She believed him. Believed he’d carry her off into the woods like Tarzan while she kicked her legs uselessly. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she said a prayer and hopped, throwing her legs around his waist.
He locked his arms beneath her knees and stood easily, muttering, “Lightweight.”
Arms hooked around his neck, Shane ponied her up the trail, sidestepping a low-hanging branch. “Watch your head,” he told her. She ducked, pressing even closer against him, feeling the rumble of his voice in her stomach when he spoke again. “Don’t want to add clotheslining to our first date.”
Their first date. The night she met Shane at the club, she never could have imagined riding on his back in the woods or kissing him until he stole the oxygen from her lungs.
“Here we are.” He lowered her to the ground. She landed not-so-gracefully, and he grasped her arm to steady her. The force of his charismatic smile shook her to the core.
They crested one small bump of a hill, the sound of flowing water growing louder as they approached. A waterfall stood in the distance, cascading over a rocky ledge of moss and smoothed rock before breaking into a shallow pool below.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
It was also hard to believe the Kodak-worthy spot wasn’t teeming with sightseers. Then a man stepped out from behind a tree and she understood why. Apparently, the falls were guarded by Andre the Giant.
“Leo,” Shane greeted him. “Meet Crickitt.”
Leo stepped forward and swallowed Crickitt’s hand in his, his smile lighting his oddly large features. “I like your name,” he told her, releasing her hand. He nodded to Shane. “It’s ready.”
Then Leo stepped past her, a roll of yellow Caution tape in one beefy mitt, and began stringing it around the trees.
“What’s he doing?” she asked Shane.
Shane clasped her hand, leading her closer to the falls. “Giving us some privacy.”
Chapter 19
Sunlight streamed through a maze of tree branches down to a sprawling red-and-white-checkered blanket in a clearing near the water. A traditional woven basket sat in its center, and next to it a sweating ice bucket holding a bottle of wine or champagne.
“See what your slogging through the wilderness has earned you?” Shane sat and reached for the bottle.
“A bit early for cocktails, isn’t it?” she asked. “If we finish that I’ll never make it back to the car.”
There was a sound of cracking plastic as he twisted the cap. “From grape juice?” He spun the label toward her. Sure enough, the contents of the bottle were an innocuous blend of white grapes and carbonation.
He handed her a flimsy plastic wine cup and she drank, the bubbles dancing on her tongue, sweet and tart.
“Next you’re going to tell me you don’t want to eat lobster and caviar,” he said.
Crickitt fought the grimace dying to produce itself on her face. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful. Or picky. “I’ll eat whatever you brought,” she said diplomatically.
Shane narrowed his eyes, pausing with one hand in the basket. “Really?”
“Yes.” She wasn’t sure which of them she was trying to convince. Oceanic arthropods and eggs from a fish made her stomach clench, and not in a good way.
He lifted her offering out of the basket. A cellophane-wrapped sandwich sat in the center of his palm.
“Ham and cheese?” she asked.
“Peanut butter and jelly,” he answered.
Along with PB&J, he’d packed potato chips and carrot sticks with ranch dressing for dipping. Dessert was a container filled with chocolate chip cookies. Crickitt expected to like them—they were chocolate chip cookies, after all, nature’s perfect food. But “like” wasn’t a strong enough word for the moist, chewy morsels.
Swallowing the last bite, she reached for another, holding it between them. “Where did you get these?”
“There is a bakery in New York City called—”
“You had these shipped from New York City?” She eyed the cookie with newfound reverence.
“No. But it is their recipe.”
She took another bite, savoring the subtle nutty flavor beneath the bold richness of the dark chocolate. “Think you could ask your house staff to whip up a batch for me?”
He chuffed. “I baked those myself, thank you very much.”
She couldn’t square the image of Shane in an apron with flour on his hands with the sleek, suited powerhouse he portrayed at work. And yet, the homier vision of him held just as much sex appeal.