Snowbound

Reed Nixon was in a foul mood, and he had no trouble admitting it. His coffeepot had broken that morning, and it was a damned pain in the ass to replace, living way up north. He’d have to special order it, have it shipped to Fairbanks, and then delivered via a charter company to Endline. After that, he’d have to drive two hundred miles down Dalton Highway in his rugged SUV, and that was a trip he hadn’t planned on for at least another three months, until after the last of the worst weather passed for the season.

On top of that, he’d discovered a hole in his favorite snow boots, and one of the strings on his crossbow—that had cost almost as much as the SUV—was fraying, necessitating changing, which could be a time-consuming process, even for someone who knew a crossbow inside and out.

So, the last thing he felt like was greeting his arriving clients early. The Wyndam party wasn’t scheduled to arrive until tomorrow. He’d been toying with the idea of contacting the charter service to see if his pal Mike was flying in the guests. If so, he’d planned to ask Mike to bring him any kind of coffee machine, as long as it dispensed the thick, dark, and hot drink he needed to feel semi-human of a morning.

Knowing that wasn’t happening was part of the reason he was so surly as he shrugged on his coat and boots, stomping through the snow to the airfield he’d had put in a few years ago, when he’d launched his guide business. He’d be the first to acknowledge that he was generally surly anyway, as a rule.

When the small plane landed, he threw up his hands, waiting until the door opened, and the stairs descended. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow, Wyndam,” he started to snarl. His mouth snapped shut for just a minute as a petite figure in a bulky white parka and cumbersome white snow boots stepped down the stairs carefully.

As she drew nearer, he demanded, “Who the hell are you? Wyndam told me it’d be just him and his camera crew. He didn’t say nothin’ about his girlfriend comin’ along.” She flinched at the rough tone, and he felt a spark of regret when he noticed how young she was. That fled when she opened her mouth.

“I’m his daughter, not his girlfriend, and who the hell are you?” She asked the question in exactly the same tone he had. “Daddy said the tour guide would meet me, but that can’t be you.”

Her dismissive look rose his hackles—and brought back some of his old insecurities from growing up dirt-poor and the son of the town drunk. “Why can’t that be me, sweetheart?” He practically snarled the question at her.

If she was at all intimidated, it didn’t show. “Someone getting paid to take care of a group wouldn’t be so unprofessional.”

He opened his mouth, but then shut it for a moment, deciding she had a point. “I’m sorry,” he said, still gruffly. “I wasn’t expecting nobody ‘til tomorrow.”

She nodded. “I guess you needed that extra twenty-four hours to find your manners, huh?”

Just like that, the little hellion set his teeth back on-edge. In an attempt to control his irritation, he walked to the pilot, who wasn’t Mike. He thought this one was Vic, who mainly flew charters out of Fairbanks. “Vic?” At the man’s nod, he held out his hand, more to show the irritating kitten beside him that he had some manners than because he actually felt compelled to make a friendly greeting. “How’re you doin’?” After a quick exchange of pleasantries, he asked, “Where’s the rest of ‘em?”

Vic shrugged. “Don’t know. Got a call asking us to fly in Ms. Wyndam today, and still plan on bringing the rest tomorrow.”

With a small sigh, he turned back to face the young woman. “Ms. Wyndam, where is the rest of your party?”

She gave him a sweet smile, but her green eyes still crackled with banked anger. “They’re still in Endline and planning to come tomorrow, as scheduled. I happened to arrive early, so Daddy arranged for the charter company to pick me up in Fairbanks and deliver me here.”

He nodded just once. “Well, where’s your gear?” He expected to be hauling suitcases into the guest quarters for the next hour, so it was a bit of a surprise to have Vic hand him just one large suitcase. “You just staying overnight?” he joked, as he lifted the suitcase, bade Vic goodbye, and led the girl—young woman—toward the guest quarters.

She frowned. “No, I’m here for a couple of weeks. Why?”

He lifted the bag a bit higher. “Most women I’ve seen come here,” and he could count the number on one hand, “Bring a mountain of luggage.”

“Oh. Daddy mentioned he was packing light, but bringing lots of warm things.” Her smile seemed genuine. “I have to warn you that my dad’s idea of light packing is a lot different than mine.”

He waved a hand. “A girl who listens to her father. That’s unusual in your generation.”

She rolled her eyes. “My generation? What are you, ten minutes older than me?”

A genuine laugh burst from him. “Sweetheart, I’m thirty-three.”

As he opened the door that allowed the guests their own private entrance and exit, he moved aside to let her pass. She paused right in front of him, leaning against the doorway for a moment in her puffy white parka. “Well, sweetheart, I’m eighteen. That’s hardly another generation.”

She slipped on past him, turning back to look over her shoulder as she added, “And I only listen to my father when I feel like it.”

Feeling slightly bemused, he followed her into his house, quickly overtaking her shorter stride, to give her the brief tour. “This is the guests’ quarters. There are two rooms. A small private room, and a larger room with six bunks.” He gestured to a door nearby. “You go through there for the commode.” Farther down the wood-paneled hall, he pointed to another door. “That leads to the kitchen. It’s shared space with my residence, but you’re welcome to help yourself to anything. I hope your daddy told you to bring any special thing you wanted along. I keep the basics, and then some, but I don’t offer no fancy stuff.”

“Darn,” she said with a small hint of mocking. “I guess I should have packed champagne and caviar instead of my pants.”

The idea of this young woman running around in no pants caused a sudden hitch in his breathing. He didn’t reply to the sarcasm as he led her to the small private room with its double bed. “You’ll have to make do with this. I laid out toiletries for a man, expecting Mr. Wyndam to stay in this room. He didn’t say nothin’ about a girl,” he reminded.

“Yeah, I know. Daddy isn’t one for bragging about his children.” She said it offhandedly, as though it was no big deal, but he thought there was a hint of hurt underneath. Or maybe he was just projecting his own rotten childhood onto her.

He set her bag down on the trunk at the foot of the bed, near the rustic log footboard he’d made himself. “I’ll leave you to unpack, Ms. Wyndam. I fix dinner around six, unless you prefer to look after yourself.” He wanted to scoff at the thought. It seemed clear to him that the little princess in front of him wasn’t used to doing much for herself. Apparently, making documentaries was a lot more lucrative than he’d ever imagined, judging from her appearance and demeanor. He knew for a fact the coat she wore cost several thousand dollars. He had one from the same designer, but it was their Outlet line, and he’d had to save three years to afford it. Of course, he’d never need another one. Point was, quality costs, and she’d clearly paid a lot. Well, her Daddy’s Amex had, he thought, with a grimace of distaste.

She smiled. “Thank you, Mr.…?”

“Reed.”

“Mr. Reed.”

He shook his head, sending shaggy brown strands falling into his eyes. “Nah, just Reed. Reed Nixon.”

She chose that moment to push back the hood of her parka and take off the soft-looking light-pink hat underneath. A mass of silvery-blonde hair fell free, and even the confining ponytail couldn’t keep all the determined strands tamed. He had the insane urge to bury his hand in the tresses and tug her closer. Thankfully, it was a notion that passed quickly, and he took a step back to make sure he didn’t do anything asinine.

“Well, thanks, just Reed. I’m Beth.” She stripped off her gloves before tackling the zipper. “Goodness, my fingers are frozen,” she said. Struggling with the coat, she looked disconcertingly like a little girl for a moment.

Reed stepped quickly to the door. “I’ll get a fire started in the common area. Just through that door, same as the kitchen.” Without awaiting a response, he ducked out of the room and back into his own quarters. It took every ounce of self-control not to bolt the door that separated his house from the guestrooms, as though he could lock out his unexpected reaction by keeping the door between them barred.

“You’re losin’ it, man,” he said softly to himself, as he went to build up the fire that was little more than a smoldering crackle at the moment.

***

Beth didn’t believe in love at first sight. That was nonsense you read about in romance books, or saw in movies. She certainly hadn’t fallen for Reed Nixon on sight. He’d been surly and short-tempered, and not at all charming or warm. Nope, definitely not on sight. As she brushed out her hair and smoothed down her sweater, nerves made her stomach jump, and she tried to decide at what point she’d fallen in lust—not love—with the grouchy guide.

Her lips twitched as she remembered the pointed way he’d shaken the pilot’s hand. The only thing missing had been him sticking his tongue out at her and saying, “Neener, neener, neener.” Yeah, that was about the time she’d realized there was more to him than just a grump.

His voice was deep and rough, with a rich southern twang that seemed a little out of place in the Far North region. She liked it though, and it didn’t take too much imagination to have him whispering all sorts of naughty things in her head as she got ready to join him for dinner.

Leaning forward to touch up her lip-gloss, she met her own eyes in the mirror and grinned. He’d be the type to speak plainly, and probably earthily, rather than vaguely or whimsically. She had a feeling Reed was the kind of man who would tell a woman he wanted to fuck her, instead of asking to make love to her.

Considering the boys she knew—and none of them could be counted as men when compared to Reed—were all the romance and flowers type, she thought it would be refreshing to have a real man telling her bluntly what he wanted her to do. Or do to her, she imagined with a small shiver.

Of course, she had to get him to notice her as more than a paying client’s daughter first. It was obvious he considered her a little girl, and a real man had no interest in little girls.

A quick glance at the gold watch on her wrist revealed it was five until six, so she slipped out of the room and down the hall. Pausing at the door, she took one more deep breath for courage before opening it to enter the common area.

She let her gaze dance around the interior, finding it was more paneled wood, rustic timber supports, and some type of white stone accents. There was a large fur on the floor near the fireplace, and she frowned at it. She knew Reed ran a guide business, and that included taking clients out to hunt, but she didn’t approve. Thankfully, her daddy wasn’t one of those idiot outdoorsmen, preferring to do his shooting with a camera instead of a gun. He was here to make a documentary on the wildlife of the Far North.

The small great room led right into the kitchen, which held a dining table big enough for eight. She paused to admire the raw log legs before running a hand over the smooth wood. “This is pretty. Where’d you get it?”

He looked up from the stove for the first time since she entered the room, though she was positive he’d seen her the moment she opened the door from the guest quarters.

“I made it myself. Pretty much have to if you want something out here.”

So, he had skilled hands. That thought made her tingle between the thighs, and she pressed them together discreetly. “Can I help with anything?”

He looked surprised by the offer, along with more than a tad disbelieving. “Nah, I got it. Just some stew and cornbread.”

She nodded, taking a seat beside the chair at the head of the table, which she correctly assumed would be his. He didn’t seem to like her proximity, and she had a moment of doubt. Could she really get this man to see her as a woman, not just an inconvenient adolescent?

He set a big bowl of stew down, along with a basket of cornbread. She was a little surprised to find he’d wrapped the bread in a red-checked cloth. He was so male, so raw and rough, that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d served the stew in the pot and the cornbread still in the pan.

She helped herself to some of both and spooned up a bite of the stew. “Wow, this is good. What brand is it?”

He blinked. “Brand?”

Beth arched a brow. “You know, like what company put it in the can?”

Reed made a scoffing sound. “Ain’t no can, girl. I made it. Like I said, you want something in this environment, you gotta know how to make it.” He gave her an unreadable look. “Lot of folks like comin’ here for trips and such, but they ain’t got what you need to survive out here.”

She bristled at the implication she wasn’t tough or able to make do. Just because she never had didn’t mean she couldn’t. Still, arguing with him seemed counterproductive to trying to seduce him, so she bit her tongue. Her seduction plans were looking less likely with every passing minute though. Her dad and the film crew would be joining them tomorrow, and she doubted there’d be any opportunities after that.

“Well, it’s delicious. What’s in it?”

If he found the question as stupid as it was, he was nice enough not to be too obvious. “Potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, gravy, and caribou.”

She frowned, putting down her spoon. “Caribou?”

He nodded. “You got a problem with that? You seemed to be enjoyin’ it a moment ago.”

Beth grimaced. “I don’t approve of hunting when there’s food in the grocery store.”

Reed laughed, and it was more than a bit mocking. “Where’d you think that food comes from, girl? The cow fairy?”

She frowned. “I’m not a girl, and I know where it comes from. Those animals are raised in captivity. They wouldn’t know how to survive if you set them free, unlike the wildlife.”

He snorted. “So you’re doing a favor by killing them?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Have you ever seen a concentrated animal feeding operation, Beth?” When she shook her head, he said, “I have. I worked one summer at a pig company. It was brutal. Those animals are mistreated from the moment they’re born until they’re finally put outta their misery—and half the time, that’s done half-assed too, so they suffer ‘til the very end.” He took a big bite of his stew, as though for emphasis. “I’d rather know the animal I’m eating lived the life it was supposed to and was killed humanely. I don’t let them suffer.”

She hated to concede, but he had a point, and a way of making her look at it that she hadn’t considered before. “Okay, but what about the sport hunters you guide?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Some of them take the meat, and some don’t, but I don’t let none of it go to waste. If the hunters only want their trophies, they take whatever token they think is important, and I keep the rest. Sometimes I eat it, and sometimes it goes to folks that need it more. I usually end up dropping off a couple hundred pounds of meat in Endline for the town folks when I go twice a year to replenish supplies.”

“Oh.” She didn’t look up at him again as she took another tentative bite of the meat. “What about if you have a hunter who just injures the animal?”

He sighed. “That’s happened a few times. Usually, it’s some pansy-assed stockbroker, or somethin’, who couldn’t keep up with me for miles, so I end up tracking the animal and finishing it off. If it’s not too bad, I try to save it and let it go back to its life. And I never accept those incompetent assholes as clients again.”

“Oh,” she said again, nodding. “That’s very decent of you.”

He rolled his eyes, as though she had insulted him instead of complimented him. “Thanks, girl.”

“I’m not a girl,” she said again, more firmly.

With an ambiguous look, he turned his attention back to his bowl. “I know that,” he mumbled, saying nothing else throughout the meal.

***

Of course she wasn’t a girl. Stripped of that parka and wearing those tight jeans—were they called skinny jeans?—and a snug sweater in that same sort of some material as her hat, there was no mistaking her for a girl. She had nicely rounded breasts, long legs for her frame that seemed built to wrap around a man’s waist, and curvy hips that could take the pressure of a man’s hands holding them while he pounded into her.

Fuck, she was definitely not a girl. He stirred the fire with the poker as he listened to her sing softly while she put away the dishes she had insisted on washing. He’d half-expected to have to redo them himself, but after watching her for a couple of minutes, he’d realized she could handle the task. It might be the first time she’d ever done them, but washing dishes wasn’t exactly brain surgery.

Not that he’d count her out of that profession, or any other. She was obviously well educated and came from money. Smart and sassy, only a fool would underestimate her prospects.

Only a goddamn fool would be imagining what it might be like to taste the honeyed skin of her neck, or cup her ass in his hands, knowing the kind of man he was. He’d left most of his past behind when he’d come to Alaska eight years ago, but he was smart enough to know a woman like that was out of his league. Never mind the fifteen years separating them. His past and her future would never mesh, so fantasizing about touching that luscious woman was plain foolishness.

When her daddy and crew arrived tomorrow, he’d have to be damned sure he hid any hint of attraction he felt. The Wyndam group was paying enough for him to be able to take a season off and have some personal space again. After a few months of people, he always got fed up and had to have a breather. He couldn’t risk alienating such clients, and hitting on the teenage daughter, even if she was technically legal, was a surefire way to do so.

What was wrong with him anyway, that he was feeling lustful for a teenager? Dammit, he should have stopped by the whorehouse the last time he was in Endline. In a region where men were far more common than women, it was about the only sure thing a man could find in these parts. Most women were already partnered up with someone, and since he wasn’t the partnering-up type, whores were a viable option. The last couple of trips though, he’d passed on by the nondescript house on the edge of the city, finding the idea of meaningless sex that he paid for was no more satisfying or appealing than his own hand.

Now, he wished he’d dipped his dick in all six of the whores working there, with the appropriate raingear, of course. Apparently, his body was feeling the itch for feminine companionship, and if he’d scratched it three months ago, he wouldn’t be stifling back a groan at the sight of that sweetly rounded ass in those tight jeans as she bent over to put the stewpot into the drawer under the oven.

She joined him all too quickly, and he was equal parts disappointed and relieved when she sat down on the same couch as him, instead of heading on to her room. At least she left a cushion between them. Damn, didn’t the girl have any common sense? She was alone with a man she didn’t know, and he could take advantage of her without her consent, if he was a different sort. Hell, didn’t her daddy have any common sense? Who sent their teenage daughter to a strange man’s home alone? Without thought, he voiced his opinion. “What kind of stupid is your father that he just lets you travel alone and sends you wherever without a proper escort?”

She cocked her head, looking both amused and angry. “He didn’t let me travel anywhere. I’m an adult, and I booked my ticket. I’d planned to stay in Fairbanks and just meet up with him for a few days in Edgeline.”

“Endline,” he interrupted.

She waved a hand. “Yeah, whatever. Except I didn’t realize the distance, or the difficulty with traveling. I thought I’d surprise him, but it ended up being an inconvenience.” Beth shrugged. “Same as always, I guess.”

“Still, his solution was to send his little girl on ahead to stay alone with a strange man?” He shook his head. “Ain’t no way in hell my daughter would do such a foolish thing. I could be all kinds of pervert, girl.”

She did grin then. “Really? What kinds are you?”

That wasn’t the response he’d expected, and he was disconcerted to have his cheeks warming. “That’s not the point. I’m just surprised by how lax y’all are with safety.”

Beth’s lips twitched. “I guess Daddy figured you’d be a professional, since you have a bazillion good references from previous guests.” She shrugged. “Or maybe he didn’t think at all. I’m not high on his list of priorities.”

His frown deepened. “Then he needs to reorder his priorities.” At her careless shrug, his irritation softened, and he warred with the urge to pick up her hand and offer comfort. Only the knowledge that innocent comfort could lead to carnal actions kept his hand firmly on his own leg. “What about you? Don’t you have more regard for your safety?”

“I can take care of myself.”

She spoke with such conviction that he couldn’t help scoffing, though it probably insulted her. “Look, girl—”

“Beth,” she put in.

“Beth,” he repeated with gritted teeth. “You couldn’t take on a wet kitten and win.”

She cocked a brow. “Challenge accepted.”

“Huh?” He frowned. “I don’t actually have a wet kitten, you know,” he said drily after a moment.

Beth’s obstinate expression hardened further. “Get up.”

“What?”

She got to her feet, moving lightly. “Come on. Get off your ass and come at me, Mr. All Kinds of Perv.”

Feeling amused, and a tad indulgent, he stood up. He wasn’t going to hurt her none, but a little lesson wouldn’t be a bad idea. Ms. Wyndam needed to know she wasn’t as tough as she thought, before she was actually in a situation that led her to act with foolish overconfidence. “All right, little girl. I’m gonna school you.”

She didn’t reply, just poising on the balls of her feet as she waited for him to make a move. Something about her stance annoyed him, and he found himself taking it more seriously than he’d intended. His first plan had been a direct assault, but he found himself drawing on the training he’d learned in the Army. He came at her to the right, before switching to the left at the last minute.

He’d expected to end up with her struggling in his arms, so the knee she rammed into his stomach was a shock. Reed let out a harsh breath and dropped to his knees from a combination of pain and surprise. In two seconds, that little hellcat kicked his shoulder, sending him reeling backward. She landed on his chest with enough force to make him exhale loudly, and her fingers hesitated within millimeters of his eyes. “Now, this is the point where I’d blind you, or rip your balls off…” She patted his thigh just an inch below his package. “If you were really trying to hurt me.”

With a sunny smile, she bounded off him, offering him a hand up that he disdained. She shrugged and returned to the couch. “Poor loser.”

He wasn’t seriously injured, aside from his pride, and he was on his feet quickly, glaring down at her as he rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder. “How’d you learn all that?”

She smiled breezily. “I was into those martial arts movies for a while, so my mom got me private lessons. I know a couple of formal types of martial arts, but my instructor also taught me some dirty tricks.”

“I’ll say.” He was reluctantly impressed as he sat down in his former spot.

“So, kitten,” she asked sweetly, “Do you think I can take care of myself?”

“I sure hope so. After that kung fu shit, I’m relying on you to take care of me too, if bad guys come.”

“No bad guys here,” she said with a grin.

With more seriousness than he’d intended, he said, “Don’t be too sure, Beth.”

She regarded him for a moment, as though peering deep into his soul. “No bad guys here,” she said again, and then lightened the mood by patting his thigh. “But I’ll protect you if they show up.”

He laughed with her, all the while conscious of her hand on his leg, and the way her breasts strained against the soft sweater as she leaned across the gap separating them to be able to touch him. His amusement fled as he contemplated grabbing a handful of the hair she’d brushed into a shining curtain of silvery blonde and bridging the distance. She couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, and he didn’t think she’d resist if he lifted her to sit on his lap. It had been a while since a woman had desired him for any reason besides being paid to, but he was pretty sure he remembered that smoky look that came to her eyes, or the way an aroused woman licked her pouty lips.

If Beth wanted him, he was in big trouble. Her father couldn’t arrive soon enough to save him from making a mistake that he seemed helpless to stop. Getting through the evening without touching her was an exercise in will power, and he was relieved when she started yawning around nine and made her way to bed. Thank goodness the rest of the group was coming tomorrow. His tenuous self-control needed reinforcements.

Beth had slept well last night, despite her lack of progress in getting Reed into bed. In retrospect, she’d figured out he wasn’t the kind of man who would take a young woman to bed for a one-night stand—especially if he discovered she was still a member of the V-club. He seemed like the torn-up, angst-ridden type, who wouldn’t allow himself to easily give in to desire for someone he thought he shouldn’t want. In the light of day—though that was more a habitual phrase than a reality, with the grayish light coming through the windows—she was still optimistic. Yeah, her dad would put a crimp in her attempts, but there would be two weeks to wear down his resistance. She didn’t think she’d been wrong about the spark of interest in his blue eyes last night, and she sure hadn’t been imagining the erection he’d had, even in the midst of their mock sparring.

He looked dour when she joined him at the table. “You’re up early,” he said, making it an accusation.

She smiled. “I’m a morning person, Reed.”

“I’m not.” He glared at his oatmeal. “Even worse without coffee.”

“Do you want me to make some?”

He frowned. “I can make my own damned coffee, but the pot’s broken.”

She put up a hand. “Easy there. I’m not Snow White.” He just blinked, clearly confused. She giggled. “As in the seven dwarves, which included Grumpy?” His confusion cleared, but he didn’t look amused. For some reason, his surliness made her want to snicker instead of respond in kind today, and she chuckled.

“Laugh it up, but I got bad news.” He gestured to some expensive-looking communication equipment on a nearby table. “Your old man radioed. There’s bad weather there, heading our way, and they won’t be coming today.”

“Oh?” She could barely hide her excitement. “Tomorrow then?”

He snorted. “More like four or five days. Three, if we’re lucky.”

“Oh, then I hope I get lucky.” She said it casually, but had to bite back a grin at her hidden meaning. Her chances of doing so had just risen astronomically.

“You’ll have to find some way to entertain yourself,” he said as he pushed the serving bowl of oatmeal her way before scooping up his own now-empty bowl to take to the sink. “With bad weather coming, I need to take stock of everything. Make sure we have enough provisions, like firewood.” His large hands made quick work of washing the bowl. “First thing I gotta do is check the gennies.” He turned from the sink. “Generators.”

Beth resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but exasperation still stained her voice. “Yeah, I know what a genny is, Reed.”

He nodded. “There’s probably not much you don’t know.”

Delivered in that tone, it was difficult to tell if he was making conversation, paying a compliment, or casting aspersions. She tilted her head sideways, making her hair fall over her shoulder and down the front of the sleep tank she wore. “Why do you say that?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Rich folks, clearly a good education. I’m guessin’ some prestigious private school? You’re probably going to the best university money can buy.”

It was definitely starting to sound like a negative, and her back tensed. “I went to a private school, but not the elite boarding school my dad wanted. Fortunately, my mom likes having me around.” She smiled a bit, hoping to coax one from him. “As far as school goes, I haven’t actually enrolled yet. I’m taking a year off between high school and college.”

He snorted. “Who wouldn’t love to do that? ‘Course, most of us don’t have rich parents to pay for such an indulgence.”

The nasty tone underlying his words made her frown. “Is it a crime to be rich?”

“If it is, I sure want to be a criminal,” he said with a twist of his lips. “Ain’t no crime to enjoy your daddy’s money, but it’d be nice if you appreciate it too and acknowledge you’re luckier than most.”

“My mother’s actually,” she said softly. At his blank look, she added, “It’s my mother’s money that Daddy wastes so extravagantly. She’s from a family of Texas oil barons so embarrassingly wealthy that his ridiculous frivolities aren’t even a blip on her radar.” She lowered her voice. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Reed? I’m just some spoiled little rich girl, out for a good time?”

One side of his mouth raised, and he seemed to be poised to say something. Finally, with an air that suggested he’d changed his mind, he just said, “You ain’t a girl, remember?” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “There’s some books on the shelf in the great room. Movies and such too, but no cable or TV stations. You might have to see to your own lunch, dependin’ on how long the genny and other preps take me.”

Beth watched him go, her brain whirring. Obviously, the man had a hang-up on wealth. Apparently, not only did she have to get him to see her as a fully grown woman, but she also had to tackle his prejudice toward privilege. Toying with the spoon in her oatmeal, she wondered if it was worth it. There were other men out there. Men far easier to control. Even if she didn’t have her parents’ bank account as an enticement, she knew her own petite curves and striking blonde hair gave her a natural advantage when it came to conquering men. She’d never been one to rely on such wiles before, but it wouldn’t take much to tempt one of the men of her acquaintance into helping her dispense with the V-card. Not that she really cared about doing so. Virginity was neither something she prized nor baggage she couldn’t wait to shed. She’d always assumed she would know when it was the right guy and the right time.

Every instinct inside her was clamoring for Reed, telling her it was the right time and the right guy. He was going to make it difficult, but she decided she wasn’t ready to give up on her campaign just yet.

If she wanted something badly enough, she could almost always make it happen—often without the wealth he disparaged so obviously—and she wanted Reed very much. Despite their short acquaintance, and her only superficial knowledge of all other aspects of the man, she was convinced he was meant to be hers. It sounded silly, even to her, and she was glad she didn’t have to explain to anyone how she knew on an instinctual level that he was the man she’d been waiting for to bring her body fully to life.

***

Reed came in around two for a late lunch. He wasn’t finished with the generator yet, having decided it needed a complete tune-up, and he hadn’t even started chopping firewood, but his stomach was growling like a bear. As he stripped off his coat, a tantalizing aroma hit his nose, and his stomach growled harder. With an impatient kick of his boots toward the door, he walked farther into the house, pausing in the kitchen.

Inhaling deeply, he detected garlic and roasting meat. With an appreciative hum, he opened the oven door a bit to peek in. The sight of a bison roast neatly surrounded by chopped potatoes, carrots, and leeks made his stomach gurgle.

“It’s not ready yet.”

He straightened abruptly at the sound of her voice behind him. Whatever he’d planned to say was lost at the sight of her in a skimpy white robe that left little to the imagination. Reed couldn’t keep his eyes from dipping momentarily to her breasts, where the faintest pink from her areolas showed through the thin silk, but immediately brought his eyes upward, to lodge on her ponytail.

She put her arms around her torso. “I was just coming to baste it once more before I got in the shower.”

He nodded. “I can handle that.” Amazingly, his voice still worked, though it sounded raspy.

She smiled. “Thanks. I’ll hit the shower then.”

Reed nodded again, watching her turn around and walk back toward the guest quarters. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her sweet little ass caressed by the silk. His cock hardened at the thought of her naked underneath it, and he briefly considered putting the table to a new use, for which it had never been intended.

With a sigh that was part regret and part self-loathing for the inappropriate attraction, he turned back to the oven and quickly basted the meal she had put together. After that, he slapped together a peanut butter and jam sandwich, practically swallowing it whole in his efforts to get back outside. The farther he was from her, the better for his self-control.

After a quick glass of milk, he washed up and started to put his boots on again. He hesitated, realizing he hadn’t thought to ask her when the roast would be finished. After she’d gone to so much trouble, he didn’t want to be late. After another second’s hesitation, he left his boots by the door and walked over to the entrance to the guestrooms. He couldn’t hear the shower running, so he assumed she was finished. At the bathroom, he lifted his hand to tap on the door, but hesitated when he heard a splash.

Reed barely bit back a groan as his mind insisted on supplying him with an image of the object of his desires squeezed into that tiny tub. As he imagined her fingers working over her skin, spreading bubbles—because she had to be the bubble bath type—a moan filled the air. For a second, he thought it had escaped him, and he bit hard on his tongue. It was only when it came again, along with the sound of sloshing water in a rhythmic fashion, that he realized Beth had made the soft moan. Instantly, he knew what she was doing, and again, his mind projected an image. The only practical way she could touch herself in that tub was to hang one leg over the side, to fully open her thighs.

Her hand would have enough room to slip between at that point, to touch and tease the wet heat between her legs. She moaned again, and he bit harder on his tongue as his dick strained against his jeans. No doubt, she was stroking her clit with those long fingers of hers.

Reed knew he should walk away, but the sounds of her self-pleasure kept him glued to the spot long past when the decent thing would have been to give her privacy. His cock pulsed in time with her panted breaths and low groans of satisfaction. He gripped the doorjamb when she cried out quietly and was grateful for its support when she uttered a single word.

“Reed,” she whispered in a soft, breathy murmur that sounded like ecstasy given voice.

He clutched the wood until his knuckles turned white before he was able to regain control and walk away from the bathroom as quietly as possible. He reentered his living area and put on his outdoor gear quickly, almost running to the shed housing the generator in an attempt to flee the natural male impulse that was urging him to turn around, go back into the house, and find Beth, so he could finish what she’d started.

He cursed a blue streak in the shed as he tried to return his attention to the generator. Temptation personified was in his house, and he was out in the cold, literally. Life really sucked sometimes. Here was something he wanted desperately, but circumstances made it impossible. “Story of my life,” he said aloud as he grasped the wrench. It was going to be a long three days until the rest of the party arrived. He hoped the weather improved quickly.