Kiss Me (Fool's Gold 17)

Chase whooped with delight. “You mean it? That’s so great. You’re the best.” He slapped his brother’s back. “I can’t wait to get home and get to work on the cat. Thanks, Zane.”

He yelled again, then ran toward his tent. At the entrance, he paused and gave Zane a thumbs-up before ducking inside.

Zane watched him go. Chase was still a kid, but like Maya had been telling him for years, he was a good one. Funny how he hadn’t seen that before. He’d been so caught up in keeping Chase from having regrets that he’d forgotten to let him have a life. Until Phoebe had reminded him what was really important.

* * *

PHOEBE FOUND IT difficult to fall asleep, but that was pretty much her life lately. There was something about being around Zane that set her body to humming. And once that humming started, there was no way to block out the sound or vibration.

Torn between sexual longing and emotional connection, she took the route most likely to lead to sleep and thought about what he’d told her of his past. No wonder he wanted to keep Chase on the straight and narrow. Zane had been forced to live with a single mistake for years.

His father had been wrong not to forgive him. Phoebe wanted to face the man and give him a piece of her mind—a desire complicated by death and distance. She wanted Zane to understand he didn’t have to prove anything anymore. That he could let the past go. She wanted a lot of things where he was concerned.

Foolish wants and desires, she reminded herself. Although when he’d been kissing her, the passion had felt so right. And while she’d appreciated his concerns about making love out there in the open, she wasn’t completely sure she would have minded.

She needed him. Embarrassing but true. She couldn’t remember ever needing a man before. And she wasn’t just talking about clever conversation or a warm, fuzzy hug. Nope, she actually meant she needed “it.”

There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t long to be caressed. At this point in time, she wouldn’t be picky. Even a foot rub would be too erotic for words. Unfortunately Zane wasn’t likely to come calling, and there was no way she could simply walk up to his tent and announce herself. Not only was it not within the working parameters of her personality, but the night was so quiet out here. Everyone in a three mile radius would know what was going on.

Phoebe turned restlessly in her sleeping bag. At least there weren’t any rocks under her tonight. She’d picked a section of soft mossy ground when they’d pitched the tents. Zane had tried to talk her out of it, but she’d insisted. She was tired of something sharp jabbing her in her hip or her shoulder, every time she tried to doze off to sleep. She also liked being a little ways away from the rest of the camp. It felt more private.

Unfortunately, private didn’t equate to sleepy. She turned again, then sighed heavily. She needed a man...bad. But not just any man. Zane. Only Zane.

After several more minutes of tossing and turning, Phoebe tried to meditate her way to sleep. She pictured herself in a beautiful mountain meadow. She could hear the sound of birds and feel the sun’s warmth on her arms. The scent of the flowers surrounded her. Everything was perfect...right up until a woodpecker took up residence.

A woodpecker?

Phoebe opened her eyes and realized it had started to rain. The noise she’d heard was rain gently pattering against her tent. She felt along the seams and was grateful when they turned out to be watertight. At least she wasn’t going to get soaked.

She closed her eyes again and relaxed. The rain was kind of nice. Soothing. It was just the right rhythm to lull her off to sleep.

Until the rushing river of water that coursed through her tent about forty minutes later woke her right up.

Phoebe sat up with a muffled shriek. She was drowning and intensely cold. Something damp brushed against her face. She couldn’t see, couldn’t figure out where she was and—

Memory returned and with it the realization that there was freezing water racing into her tent. She was immersed in it and soaked.

Several things occurred to her at once. First, Zane had warned her about the mossy ground being a seasonal stream, or river in this case. Second, that she was never, ever going to be warm again. Third, and perhaps most important, she had to get out of here.

If getting into her snug sleeping bag was difficult, getting out of it while both of them were drenched was nearly impossible. She shimmied and shoved and squirmed and swore. Finally, she freed herself. Dressed only in a shirt, panties and socks, she stepped out into the rain and found herself more than ankle deep in water.

She could feel her hair plastering to her head and the shivers rippling through her body. Grabbing the tent with both hands, she tugged and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. Giving up on it, she ducked back inside and dragged out her saddlebags and duffel, her jeans and boots. Then she slogged through the rain and muddy ground to the closest tent.

“Z-Zane,” she said, her teeth chattering as she stood there in the darkness. “M-my t-tent is f-flooded.”

She heard a heavy sigh, then his voice. “You’re just standing out there getting wet, aren’t you?”

She nodded before she realized he couldn’t see her. “I was wet b-before. There’s a river in my tent.”

A flashlight clicked on, then the tent flap opened. “Leave your gear and get in here.”

Phoebe hesitated, not wanting to abandon her belongings, but the sight of Zane holding a large, dry towel was too much for her to resist. She dropped everything and ducked inside.