Gatlinburg Getaway (Destination: Desire) (10 page)

“What are you thinking?” Aunt Opal cocked her head, staring at him. “You have the oddest look on your face.”

He shrugged. “Life is just funny sometimes.”

Because that fickle wench Fate had just hand-delivered the first woman to really pique his interest since his ex-wife had left him. And she was destined to leave him too.

Fan-damn-tastic.

At least he was going into it this time with his eyes wide open. That had to count for something, right?

Chapter Four

The next day was insane for Camille, but in a good way. She gave her presentation, which went well, and she made a few contacts with people in the audience who were interested in working on similar projects. So, possible new business, which never hurt. All in all, it was a satisfying start to her week. She was glad the presentation was over though. Now she could relax a bit and feel less guilty that Dalton was occupying her thoughts so often. Even hip-deep in networking and reconnecting with old colleagues and friends, memories of their lunch still teased her mind.

Her heart still skipped a beat every time she recalled that last kiss, his body pressing hers into the wall, every inch of her molded to him. God, she wanted more of that. A lot more. As much as she could get, for the next six days anyway. She had a deadline here. She needed to get to work if she was going to maximize her enjoyment. She just needed some cooperation from Dalton.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed with a text from him
. I want to show you some of the surrounding countryside. The Smokies are gorgeous.

While that sounded nice, she needed to set a few limits, even though she hated reminding others that she had them.

Where exactly are we going? My knee isn’t up for any serious hiking.

After about a minute, he replied with,
No hiking, just a drive. We’re going for a picnic, so don’t wear anything fancy.

Debating how flirty or forward she should be, she decided to play the tiniest bit coy.
Can I vote for pho at your place instead?

This time, his response time was quicker.
I wouldn’t manage to be a gentleman at my place.

Her answer to that was simple.
So?

But he didn’t rise to the bait. All she got back was,
I’ll pick you up at 6. Looking forward to it.

She let out a growl of frustration. A part of her had been hoping for dinner in bed. At this point, she was planning all the ways she could use the condoms Nora had insisted she take with her. There were so very many creative options. The knee might rule out a few of the more bendy Kama Sutra-esque selections, but that left a hell of a lot to choose from.

But if he really was as interested as he claimed, she should be able to push his buttons, shouldn’t she? Make him want her so badly he’d beg for it, which meant he wouldn’t put any more abrupt stops to their one-way trip to the bedroom.

Time to get her sexy on. She was so ready.

A few hours later, his Jeep pulled up to the front of the hotel right on time. He jumped out to open the passenger door for her. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah.” Was that her voice, all Marilyn Monroe breathy and come-hither? Yep, it was. Mama wanted to get some tonight. She slipped into the car and clipped on her seatbelt.

He hopped in the vehicle and took in the green cotton blouse she was wearing, which had more than a few buttons left unfastened. His gaze fixed on her cleavage for just a moment too long before he put his hands in the wheel and pulled away from the curb. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. I’m not wearing any underwear,” she announced.

He almost swerved into a parked car.

“Kidding. Just kidding.” She grinned, and she’d guess her expression was as impish as she felt. “Or am I?”

“You’re an evil woman.” Though his tone made it more of a compliment than an insult.

She preened. “Yes, thanks for noticing.”

A guffaw burst out of him, and he smacked the wheel. “I like you so much.”

“Likewise.” The fact that he’d laughed at that was a very good sign in her book. “So where are we actually going?”

“A little spot I like.” His smile had an air of mystery. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

“Take all your girls there?” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

He smirked. “Took my aunt there for her last birthday. We hosted a surprise party cookout. Does that count?”

“Sure, why not? Studmuffin.” She ran a fingernail down his arm. Maria had painted them a bright crimson the night before—a shade Camille would never have chosen herself—while plotting revenge sex.

“Flattery will get you everything.” His grin turned warm and just a little naughty.

“Promise?” she purred, and watched his face flush and his Adam’s apple bob. Ah, that was nice.

He cleared the throat. “Watch the view, not me.”

“Why?”

He let out a breath. “Because that’s why I’m taking you out here, to show you the prettiest part of my hometown.”

So, she did as he bid. They drove away from Gatlinburg, down a winding two-lane highway. They entered the surrounding forest, under a canopy of green. Moss-covered boulders and a stream ran alongside the road. It was breathtaking in its loveliness, and nothing like the west coast, which had a sparse, rugged beauty that called to her soul. But this was amazing too, in its own way. She wasn’t surprised Dalton loved this area—what wasn’t to love? She wanted to get out of the Jeep and walk around, soaking in the serenity.

He slowed for a turn and headed down a narrow dirt track. Or up it, because they gained elevation quickly. They bumped over rocks, and dust kicked up around the vehicle. From the depth of the ruts in the road, it was clear this was a popular track to drive down. Apparently, Dalton’s favorite spot was shared by others.

As soon as he pulled to a stop in a small field, she was out of the Jeep. The grass was soft and a brilliant shade of green. This color was only achieved on golf courses in drought-ridden California. From the edge of the clearing, she got a panoramic view of Gatlinburg and the mountains and forest around it. More green as far as the eye could see. A strong wind rippled across the valley, blowing the tops of the trees. Leaves whipped around her, and the scent of blooming flowers reached her nose.

“Wow.”

He came up beside her, close enough that his arm brushed against her. “You like it.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes. I can see why this place is your favorite.”

“It really is.”

They remained there, soaking in the splendor for a few minutes before he spun away and went to retrieve dinner from the Jeep. He came back with a box, set it on the ground, and unpacked plastic containers. He laid out a tarp and spread a blanket over the top. “This should keep the damp from seeping through to get us wet.”

Yeah, because the only kind of wet she wanted to be had nothing to do with soil. She kept that thought to herself and walked over to sit on the blanket. It was automatic to arrange her knee so it wouldn’t hurt, crossing her legs carefully until she found a good position.

He watched her. “Should I have brought folding chairs? We can—”

“Nope.” She hunched her shoulders, all her defensiveness about not needing special treatment trying to crowd in. Pushing the feelings aside, she forced the stiffness from her muscles and patted her leg. “I’m more careful than my doctor says I have to be, but I want to get as much mileage as possible out of this baby before I have to upgrade.”

“How long do replacement knees last?”

Since he seemed interested rather than morbidly curious or disgusted, she answered evenly. “Ten to twenty years. You can see why I’d like to spare myself another decade of surgery and rehab.”

“Does it bother you when people bring it up?” He handed her a bottle of water. “You went tense.”

“Not normally. Just when a cute guy makes a big deal out of it. Always makes me wonder how long it’ll be before he runs.” She hastened to add, “Not that that applies to this situation.”

Exaggerated dismay morphed his features. “I’m not cute?”

A chuckle straggled out of her. Very few people had made her laugh when the topic of her knee came up. “I won’t be here long enough for you to run. And if you do…well, we barely know each other.”

“It won’t hurt you if I bail, huh?”

“Why would it?”

Actually, she thought it might, and admitting that even in her own head scared her to death. Despite the way he lit her body up like a Christmas tree, they’d only met the day before. If they did anything, it would be a simple affair, but…she liked him. He was a nice guy, willing to help a stranger in need, unwilling to be cruel to a woman who liked him a little too much. But Camille was suddenly feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the hapless Bobbie Jo.

“I’m not going to bail. I told you, the injury doesn’t bother me. In fact, I’m pretty impressed with everything you went through and still came out determined to live a normal life.” He cleared his throat. “I wish my father had dealt with his traumas as well as you have. The PTSD was more than he could handle, in the end.”

Oh Jesus. Her heart clenched in sympathy. “Did he…”

“Commit suicide? We’ll never know.” He let out a breath. “He was found frozen to death in an alley in New York City. Did he stay out in a blizzard on purpose, hoping to end it all? Was he unable—physically or mentally—to seek shelter? No one knows.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Dalton.” She reached out and covered his hand. It had to be hard to lose a parent like that, with all hope of their working through his mother’s death evaporating. Hope was almost as difficult to lose as people sometimes.

He stared at their overlapping fingers. “Topic change. Tell me about your sisters.”

He rummaged around in his box, coming up with two forks. He handed one over, along with a Tupperware container. She pulled the lid off and found cubed watermelon. After stabbing a piece, she gave the fruit back so he could have some.

The sweetness of it burst in her mouth, the taste of summer. “Anne, the oldest, is about fifteen years older than me. She’s the one who raised me, and was more of a mother to me than my biological mom ever could be. I would walk through fire for her or my other sisters. Despite Mom’s crazy, we’re a pretty tight-knit group of girls.”

“What do your sisters do?” He crossed his ankles and popped a chuck of juicy red melon in his mouth.

She laughed, leaning her elbow on her thigh. “Anne was a gym teacher for the local middle school until I was a sophomore in college. When she fell for an outdoor adventure guide, she switched careers and travels with him now. They’ve been all over the world together—mountain climbing, backpacking, sailing, skiing, camping. They have two boys, and I think they’re going to stop there.”

“They travel with two kids?” His brow rose, and he yanked the tinfoil off a plate of fried chicken. A stiff breeze tried to snatch the aluminum away, but he caught it mid-air and stowed it in the box.

“Incredible, right? But they make it work. The boys are young now, but I’m guessing Anne’s going to home school them so they can keep traveling as a family.” She picked up a breast and bit into the flaky breading and tender white meat. The spices were better than anything on the menu at KFC. “Oh my God, this is amazing. What restaurant did you get this from? I need to eat there before I leave.”

He grinned. “I’ll pass your compliments on to my aunt.”

Waving the piece of chicken at him, she made a face. “If I grew up with someone who cooked this well, I’d weigh four hundred pounds.”

“Fortunately, my aunt is a firm believer in portion control, so we learned to indulge occasionally, not daily.” His expression was close to nirvana when he took his first bite. “But when she feels like rolling out the deep-fried, lard-heavy, frosting-covered goodness, you want to make sure you have an invitation to dinner. Like I did last night. These are leftovers, but no restaurant does it better.”

“Leftovers rock. I love any good food I didn’t have to cook first.” She craned her neck to see in the magical box. “What else did she give you?”

“Ever had collard greens?”

“Is it as slimy as cooked spinach?” Her stomach revolted at the thought, and she wished she hadn’t inhaled the chicken quite so fast.

“No, it’s a Southern experience. You’ve got to at least have a taste.” His gaze dropped to her lips.

“One taste for one kiss.” The words popped out, and she had zero desire to take them back. She most definitely wanted his lips locked with hers again. Even if she had to take a bite of slimy veggies.

Swallowing, his gaze flicked between her eyes and her mouth. “I’m trying to keep my hands to myself.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” She ran the tip of one finger up his biceps, feeling the muscle ripple beneath his warm skin. This place was secluded enough that she had no problem flirting, teasing, touching, or anything else that might rev them both up for what she hoped would come later that night.

He closed his eyes for a moment and swore.

Laughing, she took her hand back and picked up another piece of watermelon, ate it slowly, and licked her fingers. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but you playing the uptight virgin is starting to get weird.”