Master of the Mountain

up, tease her a bit, and watch her struggle not to give in to her need and… Hell, talk about inappropriate thoughts.

He pulled in a breath to cool off. No use. It was blistering hot, and not just from his visions of steamy sex. Nothing like global warming in the mountains. He frowned when he noted her damp face and the sweat soaking her long-sleeved, heavy shirt. Not good. The woman needed to get her temperature down.

At the far end of the meadow, the forest would provide shade. He could send her there to sit and cool off, but she'd be out of sight, and from the obstinate set of that pretty, pink mouth, she'd head right back down the trail in spite of his orders.

Shoulders straight, chin up, feet planted. Definitely a rebellious one, the type that brought his dominant nature to the fore. He'd love to give her an order and have her disobey, so he could enjoy the hell out of paddling that soft ass. But she wasn't his to discipline, more's the pity, since a woman like this was wasted on that pretty boy.

And he'd gotten sidetracked.

With a sigh, he returned to the problem at hand. She needed to stay here where he could keep an eye on her, and she needed to cool off.

“Even if you don't strip down completely, at least take some clothes off and wade in the water,” he said. “You're getting overheated.”

“Thank you, but I'm fine,” she said stiffly.

“No, you're not.” When he stepped closer, he felt the warmth radiating off her body. Being from San Francisco, she wouldn't be accustomed to the dryness or the heat. “Either strip down, little rebel, or I'll toss you in with your clothes on.”

Her mouth dropped open.

He wouldn't, would he? Rebecca stared up at the implacable, cold eyes, seeing the man's utter self-confidence. Definitely not bluffing.

Well, he could be as stern as he wanted. Damned if she'd take her clothing off and display her chunky, scarred legs. She shook her head, backing away. If she needed to, she'd run.

Faster than she could blink, he grabbed her arm.

She tugged and got nowhere. “Listen, you can't-”

With one hand, he unbuttoned her heavy shirt, not at all hindered by her efforts to shove his hand away. After a minute, her shirt flapped open, revealing her bra and her pudgy stomach. “Damn you!”

She glanced at the lake, hoping for Matt to rescue her, and froze. He was kissing the oh-so-perky Ashley, and not just a peck on the lips but a full clinch and deep-throating tongues. Rebecca stared as shock swept through her, followed by a wave of humiliation. He… As her breath hitched, she tore her gaze away, blinking against the welling tears. Why had she ever come here?

“Oh, sugar, don't do that now.” Logan pulled her up against his chest, ignoring her weak protest. His arms held her against chest muscles hard as the granite outcroppings, and he turned so she couldn't see the lake. Silently, he stroked a hand down her back while she tried to pull herself together.

Matthew and Ashley would have sex. Soon. Somehow she hadn't quite understood the whole concept of swinging and what her gut-level reaction would be. But she could take it now that she realized…what would happen. After drawing in a shaky breath, she firmed her lips. Fine.

And if Logan insisted she strip to bra and panties, that was fine too. So what if these people saw her giant thighs and ugly scars. She'd never see any of them again. Ever.

For a second, she let herself enjoy the surprising comfort of Logan's arms. Then she pushed away.

He let her take a step back and then grasped her upper arms, keeping her in place as he studied her face.

She flushed and looked away. God, how embarrassing. She had melted down in front of a total stranger, showing him exactly how insecure she was. But he'd been nice, and she owed him. “Thank you for…uh…the shoulder.”

With a finger, he turned her face back to him. “I like holding you, Rebecca. Come to me anytime you need a shoulder.” A crease appeared in his cheek. He ran his finger across the skin at the top of her lacy bra, his finger slightly rough, sending unexpected tingles through her. “You think I can talk you out of this too?”

The thought of being braless led to her imagining his big hands touching her breasts, how all his strength could hold her in place, and… God, get a grip, Rebecca. She shook her head and stepped back hastily.

He eyed her, and his look heated her more than the noon sun. “You will, at least, strip down to bra and briefs.” One corner of his mouth tipped up. “If you don't, I'll do it for you. And I'll enjoy every minute.”

Her insides turned to molten lava. How could she be appalled at his threat and excited at the same time? “Fine. But I'll take my own clothes off,” she said, her mouth dry. She shrugged her shirt off.

“I'd almost rather lose,” he murmured and tugged a lock of her hair before striding away. Closer to the water, he resumed lifeguard duty, turning his back to her. Thank God.

Her fingers clumsy, she managed to get her boots and jeans off. After a bracing breath, dressed only in her best pink underwear, she hurried toward the water. She passed him, horribly conscious of how the bright sun revealed her body's every flaw and jiggle and scar.

Ignoring the shock of the coldness, she waded out until the concealing water came up to her shoulders.

“Hey, Rebecca joined us!” The crowd swarmed her way with welcoming yells. With only her head and arms exposed, she relaxed enough to join in the play, splashing and dunking with the rest. After the first few times, she ignored the men's roving hands. Unfortunately, the touching didn't excite her in the least. Maybe because the men didn't even know her. To them, she was just another available female, another set of breasts and bottom.

Logan, at least, had really looked at her. And the look he'd given her had aroused her more than being touched by the others. Unable to resist, she glanced over her shoulder. He still leaned against the rock, arms crossed over his broad chest. His gaze was cool. Impersonal.

Good. That was good. No attraction there. Good. She turned back around and dodged Paul's hand.

The icy water precluded swimming for long. While the others rummaged through their packs for lunch, Rebecca yanked on her clothes and then grabbed her own food. Everyone scattered, perching here and there on the warm rocks to eat. Matt joined Rebecca, slinging an arm around her as if nothing had happened. As they cheerfully argued the role of women in the gold rush, she remembered why she'd dated him in the first place. Smart, polite, charming, and darned good-looking, especially now with the sun gleaming on his blond hair and brightening his blue eyes. Her perfect man. Surely they could work things out. Yes, they'd be-

“Hey, you two. I brought dessert.” Balancing a plate, Ashley crowded onto the slab of rock on Matt's other side. “Here, try this.” She fed Matt a bite of chocolate cake, giggling when he nipped her fingers.

Rebecca's hand closed into a fist. One good punch, and the big-breasted blonde would go ass over teakettle. But Ashley only did what they'd come here for. Rebecca turned her head, pretending to concentrate on Paul and Amy's conversation, trying to ignore Matt's husky laughter. Her chest tightened, making swallowing impossible, so she rolled up the remains of her sandwich.

Putting it into her pack gave her an excuse to move away from Ashley and Matt. She pulled out her sketch pad. There, she'd have an excuse to stay apart.

It didn't take long for the magic of drawing to assert itself, and she lost herself in the subtleties of lines and curves and shadows. She did a small line drawing of Brandy's bare toes digging in the dirt, her hiking boots and socks nearby. Another quick one of Christopher reclining on a granite slab, reminding her of the models who posed nude during art classes.

After a while, she glanced back at Matt and saw Ashley's hand creep between his legs. Okay, then. That's how it's going to be. She averted her gaze and saw Logan.

Slightly apart from the group, he leaned on a rock, eating his lunch. He'd removed his shirt, and good Lord but working around a lodge made for some serious muscles. The brown hair on his chest was a shade darker than his skin, an inverted triangle going from nipple to nipple and down. She couldn't see any tan lines on his arms. Either he worked with his shirt off or lay out naked. And wasn't that a thought? She slid her gaze past his six-pack abdomen to the waist of his jeans. No flash of paler skin showed, so he… Oops. Startling blue eyes in a tanned face trapped her gaze, holding her frozen. The ground under her dropped an inch, a foot, sliding inexorably out from under her as he studied her.