Impulse Control (Entangled Indulgence) (Men of the Zodiac) Page 3

  An odd light entered Holly’s gaze. “But I wouldn’t mind trying it on for size, just for the weekend. Don’t make me beg.”

  Susannah thought about it while she turned on the broiler and got the ingredients for their nachos out of the fridge. Billy adored Holly, and she was amazing with him. If Holly was willing, Susannah would be stupid to say no. “Then yes, and thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Susannah slumped onto a barstool and propped her head in her hands. “But now I have to go camping in the snow.”

  “Look on the bright side. Your fleece wardrobe will be a plus.” Her grin was a mocking flash of perfect, white teeth. “And warmth will be of paramount importance. Gosh, I wonder how you two can keep warm in a tent in the snow. Hmm…” She tapped a finger on her chin.

  “Goose-down sleeping bag. I’ve got one in the basement.”

  “One sleeping bag. Two people. Naked.”

  Susannah’s face flamed. “I’m not getting naked with the Wild Man. Sex is the last thing I need.”

  “Honey, I know it isn’t PC.” Holly gave her a level look. “Women don’t need men to be happy…says no happily married woman anywhere. You’re a throwback, kid. I know my company is fabulous, but can you honestly say you don’t want a man rolling in the door at dinnertime? You love to take care of people, and that is a beautiful thing. I’m blessed to have you in my life, and if we were gay, I’d ask you to marry me in a heartbeat. But I don’t believe wearing a Polartec jumpsuit 24-7 truly makes you happy. If I did, I’d buy you a dozen fleece bra-and-panty sets to complete your fuzzy ensembles. You haven’t been happy for a very long time, maybe ever, and burying yourself in loungewear because Ethan made you feel unattractive isn’t going to do anything but make you more miserable.”

  “I like being alone. I rock this fleece. I’m awesome.” But tears prickled her eyes, and she knew Holly wasn’t fooled.

  Susannah opened a cabinet and pretended to search for a bag of chips. When her eyes stopped stinging, she plucked a bag from the top shelf and poured chips onto a parchment-lined sheet tray. She layered them with chipotle sour cream, black bean dip, roasted sweet potatoes, and four kinds of cheese and popped the tray into the oven. She pulled a Mexican chocolate cake out of the fridge to warm up for later. As she mixed two more drinks, she glanced over at Holly, who was smashing black beans one by one on Billy’s tray while he gobbled them up. Holly met her gaze and then looked pointedly at the oven, the cake, and the glasses in Susannah’s hands. The irony was not lost on Susannah.

  “Russ Donovan was looking at your ass.”

  Susannah thrust a fresh drink into her hand. “Russ Donovan is not the kind of man who will roll in the door at six for dinner.”

  “Hell, no. I’m sure he’ll be on the other side of the world next month jumping out of a helicopter into a fire swamp filled with Megalodons. But Russ Donovan could get you over the hump. Literally.” Holly picked up the remote and pointed it at the television mounted on the wall. After a quick search, the opening credits for In the Wild rolled across the screen. “Might as well see what you’re in for this weekend.”

  Susannah chugged her drink, and Holly laughed.

  As a grinning, bare-chested Wild Man filled the screen, her mouth went dry. Her pulse beat a wild jungle tattoo, and her skin felt tight and hot. She blamed Holly for the image that flashed in her mind’s eye: two sweaty naked bodies twined together in a sleeping bag.

  Chapter Two

  Russ grinned when he saw Susannah walking toward him. She was bundled up so tight, she could barely move. Her puffy pink coat had a furry hood and extended to her shins. He could only imagine how many layers she was wearing beneath that behemoth. Should he put her on snowshoes and see what happened or have her change into the gear he’d picked up for her? He chuckled under his breath. As much as he would enjoy seeing her totter and flail, he didn’t want her to get hurt.

  “Time to get dressed, Susie.”

  “I am dressed.”

  Her dismissive expression made him grin. He was going to enjoy this even more if she kept up that attitude. “Maybe I should have said time to get dressed appropriately for the weather. You can’t move in that getup, and if you can’t move, you’ll get cold. Plus, we’re snowshoeing, and I can’t attach shoes to a marshmallow.”

  The camera was rolling, catching every interchange. Her dark eyes glittered; he would trade his Bear Grylls survival knife to know what she was thinking.

  “Everything I’ve packed is a variation on what I’m wearing now.” She gestured at the enormous backpack behind her, and he snickered.

  “I am so looking forward to seeing what little Susie Homemaker thought she needed for this weekend.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Let me guess: a batch of homemade cookies, a curling iron, and…” He pretended to think. “A sewing machine? Scrapbook paper?” He tugged her pack off her back.

  “Don’t touch my stuff.”

  “Have you ever been on snowshoes, Susie?”

  She shook her head.

  “Skied?”

  She stared back at him.

  “Ice skated?”

  “I don’t like being cold. This wasn’t my idea, remember? I’m here. I’m packed. Let’s go.”

  He shook his head. “You can leave your things safely in your car or you can dump them along our route and lose them. But you are going to fall on your ass if you try to snowshoe wearing that outfit with a backpack strapped to your back. Most people go headfirst into a snowbank the first time they try to snowshoe anyway, and if you don’t change, I guarantee you’ll go belly-up like a big pink turtle.”

  Color climbed in her cheeks, and he sensed she was going to fight him. Good. “What’s in the bag, Susie?” He hefted it again and pretended to fall over. “C’mon, let’s see what the average American woman thinks is necessary for survival. I bet you’ve got a fat, juicy romance novel and a bottle of hair spray in here.”

  She crossed her arms, struggling to get them linked with all her layers. “Be my guest.”

  He unzipped the pack. The item on top was a survival kit. He dug lower and found doubles of nearly every item he’d also packed. Looks like Susie finally did her research. She said nothing, but there was a stillness to her that made him keep digging. What was she hiding? His hand hit the edge of something hard, several things, actually. He pulled them up, one by one, and fanned them out in front of him. “I’m honored to be included in such rich company.” Four high-caliber chocolate bars and his first book, Living Wild.

  “You don’t need the book when you’ve got the man himself.” He tucked it back into her pack, but he carried the chocolate bars over to the sled and put them into the lightweight, waterproof backpack he’d packed for her. “Here. This is all you need. I’ll haul the rest.”

  “I want my stuff.”

  Judging from the items in her backpack, the only things she knew about camping she’d learned from his book. It was fun to tease her, but there was no way he’d put her safety in jeopardy. She needed to do what she was told. He bent, putting his mouth at her ear. She smelled like cold, crisp apples, and he couldn’t stop himself from inhaling deeply before he spoke. “This is my turf. You get your turn, remember? I want to get rid of the doubles so we aren’t hauling unnecessary items for twenty miles through the snow. And I want you properly dressed so I don’t have to carry your frozen body out of the woods. But thanks for showing up looking like the abominable snow-woman, so I can include a section on what to wear for mobility in the revised edition of my book. Safety first.”

  The look in her eyes promised retribution, but she finally nodded. Her hair brushed his lips, soft, silky, and an arrow of hunger shot through his center. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and feel more of it. Instead, he grabbed the backpack from the sled, walked back to her pack, and hoisted both of them onto his shoulder.

  “Come on. I’ll show you.” He pointed at the ranger station where her clothes were waiti
ng.

  A muscle jumped in her jaw. Her shoulders straightened. As she walked in front of him, he was glad the lush outline of her body was completely disguised by the bulky winter coat. It gave him a second to get control of the unexpected attraction that gripped him every time he saw her. Unfortunately, the gear he’d bought was formfitting, so his reprieve would be short-lived.

  The crew tumbled in behind them. Russ slung the backpacks onto a table and started to unpack hers. When he found her underthings, he blinked hard. Fleece? Leopard-print fleece? He held them up. “These are keepers.”

  Her cheeks turned bright pink, and she bit her lip, clearly holding back a retort.

  He set the underwear and bra on the table and added the chocolate bars, her phone, and a battery-operated charger. He had one, but hers didn’t weigh much, and he knew she had a family. She’d want to keep in touch. Suddenly he was curious about that. There had been a scandal a while back, but he hadn’t paid attention.

  He unearthed lip balm. Keeper. A flask? He unscrewed the top and sniffed, expecting to smell brandy. Tequila lit up his sinuses instead. As much fun as it would be to pass a flask around the campfire, they needed to stay sharp to stay safe. He couldn’t risk Susie hitting the bottle for liquid courage. He tossed the flask aside.

  Soon there was a mountain of high-quality camping gear on the left side of the table, all stuff he’d already packed for them. The right side of the table held the few keeper items he’d separated out.

  He picked up the backpack he’d packed for her, sighed, and began to repeat the process. “Joke’s on me, Susie. Check this out.” He showed her the duplicate items.

  She reached into the discard pile and grabbed her deodorant.

  He shook his head. “Double up. We won’t be changing clothes much, so no need to haul that around with us.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She pointed at her makeup bag, also in the discard pile.

  “Au naturel is part of the fun of camping.”

  He picked up a stack of clothes and thrust them into her arms. “Bathroom is over there. Go put this stuff on, and say good-bye to the pink marshmallow coat.” He set a pair of boots on top of the pile.

  He could barely make out the straight line of her spine through the bulky coat as she walked across the room. “But if you’ve got a fleece teddy on under that outfit, keep it.”

  The bathroom door shut with a satisfying bang.

  …

  Pink marshmallow? The selection at the sporting goods store hadn’t been great this late in the season, but she’d chosen a windproof coat rated for thirty below. She hadn’t thought about mobility, but now that he mentioned it, it was more of a soccer mom spectator coat than a winter sports coat. A chill washed over her at the thought of putting on snowshoes. She was pretty sure the only time she’d ever seen them was in Little House on the Prairie book illustrations when she was a child. After Billy was born, she’d done some yoga and Pilates. Nursing had also helped get her back into shape, but she was nowhere near ready for a trek through the woods. He must have noticed her soft body in Bergman’s office and decided the best way to humiliate her was with feats of strength and endurance.

  She’d show him. She might not have a hard body, but she was strong enough. She’d sweat, huff, and puff, but she wouldn’t quit. If she could live through two years of Ethan’s bullying, she could survive a hike through snow and ice. This was bush league. A physical challenge. Well, mental, too, but only if she let him get to her.

  She shrugged out of the coat and hung it on the back of the door and then inspected the garments he’d given her. They were thin and sleek. Was he trying to turn her into a Popsicle? The tags had been snipped, so she couldn’t read about the material. Who’d purchased them? Wardrobe, probably. They had all her sizes, and these looked perfect. Two pairs of socks, one thick, one thin. Thermal underwear, snow pants, a long-sleeved shirt made out of some shiny, space-age looking material, a wool pullover, and a hip-length fitted coat.

  She shucked down to her fleece bra and panties. Holly had scoured the city and gleefully produced two sets, the leopard and the tiger print she was currently wearing. She doubted it was sportswear, more along the lines of fetish wear, but considering her boobs and butt were nice and toasty, she didn’t care. She pulled on the new layers and looked in the mirror. A sporty-looking stranger stared back at her. What was Donovan’s game? If he’d wanted to embarrass her on film, he should have left her in the pink coat and stood back while she fell in a snowbank.

  Then she got it. As funny as it would be, a move like that would make women viewers hate him. This way, he’d done his best to prepare her. At least now when she pinwheeled and got snow up her nose, he’d look like he’d tried to help, the bastard.

  If I fall, I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing my embarrassment. I will laugh, not cry. I will transcend, transform, and triumph. Those three words had been her mantra since the moment she decided to divorce Ethan. They’d gotten her through bitter fights, public humiliation in the media, and every rough day since, as she forced herself to pretend her old doubts were gone and that she’d emerged stronger. The truth was more complicated. Her doubts and fears were still there, but she was determined not to let them control her actions. She might feel like crying, screaming, complaining, and seeking reassurance, but she wasn’t going to do it. Determination filled her, reminding her she didn’t have to stand there and whine while he packed her bag as if she were a child.

  She slid her feet into the new boots, noting they were lighter and more flexible than the ones she’d chosen. After one last look in the mirror, she folded her clothes and carried them out of the bathroom. Donovan was talking to one of the cameramen, examining a tiny device with the delight of an utter techno-geek, so she left him to it. She surveyed the table, strewn with piles and backpacks. Since she could appreciate the merits of the lighter-weight backpack, she chose the one he had selected and carefully repacked it with the items he had deemed “necessities.” She left the doubles on the table. Spotting the deodorant, she hesitated, and then carefully dug beneath her layers to double up, as he had suggested. He might have it in for her, but he had a point. There was no reason to carry any more than she had to. She left the makeup bag, too, even though it hurt. Her psyche wasn’t so fragile that she’d insist on wearing makeup on a camping trip. In fact, she wished she hadn’t packed it at all. Now he believed she was vain. She straightened her spine and pulled her shoulders back. I don’t care what he thinks of me.

  Her sleeping bag had apparently passed muster, but he had tucked it into a slick bag. Trying not to think of her inappropriate sleeping bag fantasy was like trying not to think of a white elephant. It flashed through her mind again, making her cheeks heat. She exhaled a silent growl, deep in the back of her throat, and glanced over to where he was still deep in discussion.

  He was in his element, on his turf, and she sensed that everyone in the room was waiting for his cue. He wore the mantle of command comfortably, as at ease in his well-broken-in winter wear as she was stiff and uncomfortable. He looked alive as he talked to the cameraman, invigorated by their imminent adventure, while her brave facade concealed her quailing heart, trembling muscles, and a deep longing to close her eyes and pretend this wasn’t happening.

  Oh, it’s happening. Cue my personal nightmare. Resolutely, she attached her sleeping bag to the bottom of her backpack, zipped everything, and carried it over to join the men.

  Donovan held up a silver square about the size of a Brazil nut. “Check it out—it’s a camera. It sticks to the top of the tent to record our pillow talk.” His grin widened. “Voice activated, so I hope you don’t snore.”

  Pillow talk? Did that mean they’d be alone in the tent? They wouldn’t bother with a tent cam if the crew were bunking with them. A wave of heat that had nothing to do with her new layers rolled through her. She shouldn’t have watched so many episodes of In the Wild with Holly this week. Given some of the conditions he�
�d faced during filming, she’d seen him mostly naked, every muscle pumped and straining. The camera had shown too-brief flashes of the tattoo Holly had mentioned, never quite catching the whole thing. It had taken every bit of self-control she possessed not to watch the shows again and freeze-frame until she could figure out how the flames, horns, and eyes fit together. Irritation simmered inside her. She needed to nip her little obsession in the bud right now. He might have a hot tattoo, but he was still a man. Thankfully, she was well-versed in the inherent flaws of men.

  She rolled her eyes. “And I hope you don’t fart in your sleep. Are we ready to get this show on the road?”

  Donovan chuckled and gestured at the door. “After you.”

  He snapped his fingers and one of the crew detached from the group and began to gather the unneeded camping equipment.

  He opened the door for her. “Let’s get our shoes on and get moving. You must be hot in your layers. I know I am.” He looked her over from head to toe, probably just making sure she’d put on everything he’d ordered, but his slow gaze made her boil, and she couldn’t prevent her lips from tightening. A small smile curved one side of his mouth, and his pale blue eyes gleamed.

  Deliberately, she erased all traces of emotion from her expression. She didn’t want to give him any ammunition. She slung her backpack onto one shoulder and stepped outside. Four pairs of snowshoes were waiting for them. Her heart skittered, and she tried to look at the bright side. Anxiety would keep her warm. However, the sweat that trickled down her back was cold as she listened to him explain how to fasten the shoes to her boots. Apparently, it was very important not to get them too tight. Since she didn’t want blisters or abrasions, she listened closely.

  “Use a wider and longer stride. Lift your legs higher, and try to be light on your feet. If anything hurts, let me know, and I’ll adjust it. Ready?”

  Her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket. “Hang on.” She took off her gloves and checked her messages. Since she’d never been away from Billy for more than a workday, Holly had promised to check in every four hours. Susannah figured that was about as long as she could stand it without going nuts. She smiled at the photo of Billy sleeping in his crib, thumb in his mouth, butt in the air, and covered with his favorite blanket, and then sent a quick shot of the snowshoes in reply.