Kitabı oku: «Sexy, Single And Searching», sayfa 4
5
WHAT ON EARTH had happened to her? Mack wondered as he paced the corridor, hands clasped behind his back.
Damn his tendency to jump in with both feet when he wanted something, never mind that he could be barreling off a cliff.
He needed to amend his “wife” list. Under “likes to be spoiled,” he was adding, “not a flight risk.”
Kay reappeared a few minutes after she had gone inside the ladies’ room to look for Camryn. Mack raised his head, and gazed at her expectantly.
“She’s not in there.”
“What do you mean she’s not in there? I saw her go in with my own eyes.”
“I checked all the stalls. No one is in there.”
“You’re covering for her,” Mack accused.
“Why Mack McCaulley, are you calling me a liar?” Kay settled her hands on her hips and gave him a mischievous grin.
Contrite, he said, “No, Kay, of course not.”
“I will tell you that the bathroom window was hanging open.”
“You think she climbed out the window?”
Kay shrugged. “Looks like it. What did you do to her?”
“Me? I didn’t do anything.”
“Camryn’s missing after slipping off alone with you. You Alaskans have the tendency to go after what you want pell-mell. Maybe you were moving too quickly for her.”
“Then why didn’t she just say so?” Exasperated, Mack jammed his hands in his pocket.
“You’ll have to ask Camryn that question.”
“Right. And how can I do that when I don’t know where she is?”
“She’s staying at Jake’s.”
Just forget her, McCaulley. There’s millions more fish in the sea. Look around you.
But part of him could not so easily dismiss Camryn without a valid explanation for her behavior. And he really wanted to apologize if he’d upset her in any way.
He left the community center and walked across the street to Jake’s B&B. He pushed through the door into the lobby, then went over to the front desk where he found the desk clerk, crotchety old Gus, sitting on a stool reading some true-crime paperback with a lurid cover.
“Hey, Gus.”
Gus grunted and barely looked up from his book.
“You have a guest by the name of Camryn Josephine staying here. Would you tell me her room number?”
“We don’t give out that kinda information.”
“Come on, Gus, you know me.”
“Yeah, and you’re a rascal, McCaulley. I don’t trust ya.”
“That was twenty-five years ago, Gus.” The elderly man gave him grief about his long-ago transgression whenever he could.
“I gotta long memory.”
“Obviously. I apologize profusely. I was a terrible kid. Now would you at least ring her room for me?”
“You ain’t got a chance with that one. She’s too smart for the likes of you.”
“That’s what you said about Quinn and Kay and you were wrong on that score, too.”
Gus snorted, put down his paperback and dialed Camryn’s room. He waited a few minutes then hung up the receiver. “She ain’t answering.”
Gus went back to his book and Mack turned away.
Where could Camryn be? The woman had disappeared like smoke up a flue.
Sighing, he walked through the lobby and plunked down on a chair in Jake’s great room where the guests and locals often congregated. Tonight, the room was empty save for that mousy woman with the Coke-bottle glasses.
What was her name again? Tammie Jo? Maybe she’d seen Camryn come through here.
He got up and stepped over to where she sat curled up on the sofa by the low-level fire. She was reading a copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Her hair was pinned to her head in that unflattering bun and she wore a fluffy pink chenille bathrobe and outlandish Bugs Bunny house slippers. Somehow he wasn’t surprised at her silly getup. There was a half-empty glass of milk in front of her and a plate of cookie crumbs.
Party on, Tammie Jo.
He perched on the edge of the heavy cedar coffee table in front of her. “Hello, there.”
She kept her head tucked down, her eyes glued to her book. She was as bad as Gus. What was this? Blow off McCaulley night?
“Remember me?”
She nodded, still not glancing at him.
“You been sitting here long?”
She shrugged. Was she so shy she couldn’t even look at him? He recalled their encounter in the upstairs hallway. She’d acted pretty spirited then. Maybe it took sexy underwear and provocative talk to bring out the vixen in her.
“Would you happen to have seen a woman come through here? Tall. No wait, she had on really high heels.” He looked Tammie Jo over for a moment. “Actually, she might have been about your size. She had on this really amazing black dress. She’s got hair the color of pecan taffy and killer gams.”
“Sorry,” Tammie Jo snapped. “Didn’t see her.”
Okay. He’d handled that wrong. Apparently Miss Plain Jane didn’t care to hear him rhapsodize about some other woman and how could he blame her?
Mack got to his feet without a second glance at Tammie Jo. “Thanks for your help.”
She didn’t reply, just kept her nose buried firmly in her book. Hy-ca-rumba. She’d come all the way to Alaska to sit on a couch and read?
Shaking his head, Mack left the B&B. Time to go home. He was done with chasing after his fantasy woman. At least for tonight.
HE STILL hadn’t recognized her, Cammie Jo fumed as she combed through the lupines on her hands and knees outside the back door of the community center. It was after midnight, the sun had finally gone down and she had a pocket penlight clutched between her teeth.
Was the man as dumb as a post? Or was he so blinded by Camryn’s supposed beauty he couldn’t see that the blah woman right in front of him was the same one he’d been drooling over all night?
Or was the truth plainer than that? Had he instantly labeled Cammie Jo a nonsexual entity and dismissed her the same way men had been dismissing her for years? She knew the conclusion he had drawn about her. Baggy clothes + thick glasses + no makeup + books = a boring spinster woman.
The thought made her blood boil.
Men, the simple beasts. They were so swayed by appearances.
Take one push-up bra, a pair of colored contact lenses, high-heeled shoes, professional grade makeup and voilà—the cinder girl becomes a princess.
She was put out, disgusted, annoyed and still very attracted to that bothersome Mr. McCaulley.
And for some vexatious reason she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Or the way his lips had tasted on hers.
Why hadn’t she simply come out and said, “Look, I’m Camryn. That’s my real name but everyone’s called me Cammie Jo since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.”
Why? Because without the totem she was too damned shy to speak such things to him. And because she would hate to see the disappointment on his face when he realized she wasn’t the hot, sexy babe he thought she was.
Well phooey on him anyway. She hadn’t come to Alaska to snag a husband. Marriage was the furthest thing from her mind. She wanted adventure and plenty of it. She wanted to sample new foods, drink in novel sights, inhale fresh smells. She wanted to see moose and bald eagles and grizzly bears.
But she wasn’t getting her wish unless she found the missing totem.
Just when she was about to give up, her hand hit something solid in the grass and she yelped with glee. Yes! The hiking trip to the Tongass National Forest was back on for the morning. Cammie Jo shone her penlight over the necklace, found where the string had broken, tied it into a secure knot and slipped it over her head.
Instantly, she felt stronger.
There. To heck with Mack. She was brave Camryn again and as long as she had the totem, nothing or no one was stopping her from having the time of her life.
CAMMIE JO woke at the crack of dawn ready for the hiking tour. She opened her window and breathed in the fresh, clean mountain air. She dressed, laced up her hiking books, double knotted the totem and slipped the necklace over her bulky azure sweater. She wasn’t losing it a second time.
After several attempts, she finally got the contact lenses in her eyes. She tried her best to recreate Kay’s makeup job, and she managed a serviceable replication. She brushed out her hair and let the curls trail down her shoulders as she’d worn it the night before. She checked herself in the mirror.
All right! Camryn Josephine was back.
She scurried through the lobby, apparently the only one awake in the whole place save for the elderly desk clerk who never looked up from the morning paper. Once outside, she found the street filled with passengers leaving the cruise ships for shore excursions. The restaurants were hopping, and the air was permeated with the tantalizing aroma of omelettes, bacon and strong coffee. She purchased orange juice and a blueberry muffin from a street vendor, then headed for the tour bus.
The bus that was to take them to the Tongass National Forest for their four-mile hike idled at a wooden park bench just a few feet from the B&B. Cammie Jo hurried over to find more than a dozen attractive young women and a few middle-aged couples already aboard.
She plunked down in the seat behind the driver. He looked familiar and after a few minutes of studying him she recognized him, not only from the party the night before, but from the Metropolitan magazine ad as well.
He was, quite frankly, the most handsome man she had ever seen, with coal-black hair and eyes the piercing blue of a glacier. He was probably the reason the bus was packed with so many single gals at this time of the morning.
Where as Mack was handsome in a rugged way, this man was handsome in the way of perfect Greek statues and paintings of heavenly beings. She found his beauty incredibly intimidating. On the dashboard in front of him lay a well-worn copy of a book by John Muir.
Caleb, she remembered. Caleb Greenleaf, the naturalist and apparently bus driver as well.
A few more women boarded—they giggled and flirted up a storm with Caleb before finding seats. Then Caleb rose to his feet and began to count heads. He consulted a clipboard. “Looks like everyone’s here except my assistant. He must be running late. We’ll give him a few minutes because it’s hard for me to lead a group of this size by myself.”
Everyone must have been pretty happy just to sit and eyeball Caleb because no one protested too much, although Cammie Jo heard someone behind her whisper, “We’ve got to be back on the cruise ship by noon.”
At that moment, a man in a brown bomber jacket sprang onto the bus.
“Morning, folks,” greeted Mack McCaulley. “Sorry I’m late.”
A wave of forgiving female twitters sounded around the bus.
He held on to the grab bar and remained standing while Caleb closed the door and put the bus in gear. Mack picked up the microphone and held it to his mouth as if to start into the regular tourist spiel when his eyes lit on Cammie Jo.
They both inhaled in unison and their gazes welded.
Mack’s sharp intake of breath crackled over the microphone.
Cammie Jo’s heart slipped sideways in her chest. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he out flying his plane?
He recovered quickly, introduced himself and began telling everyone about the trip ahead. But Cammie Jo didn’t hear a single word he said. Her mind was a frayed ball of twine unraveling at an alarming rate.
She wrapped a fist around the totem and began to breathe easier. It was okay. She was all right.
They arrived at the edge of the forest in under ten minutes and Caleb parked the bus. He gave instructions for the people to divide into two groups of twelve. One group was to go with him, the other group to follow Mack.
Caleb climbed off the bus and the tourists followed. Mack stayed rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving her face. Cammie Jo hesitated, not knowing what to do.
Her pulse jumped like water droplets on a redhot griddle and her tummy tugged to and fro with this swishy-swashy sensation like a washing machine set to agitate.
She shouldn’t be scared. But then she realized the emotion wreaking havoc on her insides was not fear at all. But rather excitement tinged with something else. A feeling she’d never experienced with such intensity.
Sexual arousal.
The air between them was charged with more voltage than any high line wire. Every hair on her arm stood at erect attention.
Cammie Jo gulped. Hard. She was hot and wet and achy down there.
And then the bus was completely empty, save for her and Mack.
He trod slowly toward her, his boots echoing with a solid thud, thud, thud, that matched the crazy rhythm of her heart.
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” he said.
Cammie Jo jerked her head around, looking for a way out. Not because she was afraid of this bundle of walking testosterone but exactly because she wasn’t. She should have been scared to death because he was so close, so manly, so gosh darn p.o.’d at her. Instead she was turned on like a faucet twisted to full blast.
“No place to run, Sugar Plum.” He was standing directly in front of her in the middle of the aisle, his big hands planted on the backs of either seat. “If you want off this bus, you’ll have to come through me.”
Was she even breathing? All she knew was that his smoldering dark eyes had pierced her clean through and pinned her in place.
Normally, she hated conflict. Avoided it at all costs. But now she possessed a newfound bravado.
“And what kind of bone do you have that needs picking?” she asked coolly, amazing herself with her impudence. “Chicken? Beef? Pork perhaps?”
Ha! He almost smiled. She saw it flit at the edges of his mouth before he gained control by frowning deeply.
“Why did you run out on me last night?”
“Mack!”
They both jumped.
Caleb rapped on the outside of the bus window and tapped at the face of his watch. “We’re burning daylight, bud.”
“Duty calls.” Cammie Jo said with enough sugar in her voice to choke a honeybee.
“Don’t think this lets you off the hook. Sooner or later you and I are having a long talk.”
“Fine with me.”
“Fine.”
They stared at each other.
“You coming on the hike, then?” He inclined his head.
“Why, of course.”
He stepped aside, gestured with a hand. “Ladies first.”
Haughtily Cammie Jo rose, nose in the air, and started forward. She sailed past him, but then promptly tripped over her boot laces as she descended the bus steps, and sprawled face forward in the dirt.
IT WAS AN HOUR and a half into their three-hour hike through the spongy forest undergrowth and Mack couldn’t stop looking at Camryn. He smiled whenever he recalled how she’d leaped to her feet after falling from the bus and dusted herself off before he could get to her. He’d made a move to help, but she’d glared at him so hard he’d stepped backward, palms up in a gesture of surrender. She was a feisty thing; an odd combination of half regal cutie, half fierce tomcat.
Proving beyond a shadow of a doubt she possessed quality number two on his “wife” list.
He halted the group from time to time to give minilectures on the flora and fauna. During these little breaks, Camryn assiduously avoided looking at him, pretending instead to be wildly enraptured with a skunk cabbage or chipmunks or wild blueberry bushes.
Apparently she didn’t think he noticed when she cut her eyes surreptitiously at him. For his part, he stared at her boldly. He had nothing to be ashamed of.
Except she was a distraction to beat all distractions. Some nerdy middle-aged guy outfitted in the wrong kind of footwear kept asking him silly questions. Like, “Why are the Sitka spruce and the western hemlock the only variety of trees in the Tongass?”
“Because that’s the way it is,” Mack had finally snapped and he heard Camryn snicker. Was she laughing at him or the nerdy guy?
Caleb and his twelve adoring disciples were a quarter mile ahead of them in the forest. Mack brought up the rear in his group to prevent stragglers while Camryn had positioned herself far ahead of the pack, as if to put as much distance between them as possible by infiltrating Caleb’s group.
Mack admired the way Camryn’s trim little butt swayed from side to side in those snug-fitting jeans. He loved watching her hair bounce about her shoulders as she walked and the way her sweater adhered to her breasts.
He recalled the moment when they were alone on the bus together and he’d been trying to intimidate her with his maleness, hoping to wring a confession out of her concerning her strange behavior the night before. Instead of being unnerved as he expected, he could have sworn he saw sparks of unmitigated mischief in her fabulous green eyes.
“Which kind of bone needs picking?” she’d drawled, all spunk and sass.
My bone, he’d thought but hadn’t had the guts to say.
An unwitting image of that cute little butt of hers curving above his cupped palm jettisoned itself into his head and just like that, boom!, he got hard.
Taking a deep breath, Mack paused, put one hand on a tree and struggled to rein himself in.
“Oh!” someone up the trail cried and it sounded an awful lot like Camryn.
Mack’s head came up just in time to see a flash of color as she tumbled down the embankment.
6
JUST CALL ME GRACE, Cammie Jo thought as she somersaulted head over heels down a steep slope into a mossy creek bed where she ended up sprawled on her butt. The totem might cure shyness, but it didn’t seem to do a darn thing to exorcise a chronic case of klutz.
At the thought of the totem, her fingers flew to her neck.
Whew! It was still there.
Chagrined at her clumsiness, Cammie Jo shook her head.
“Camryn,” Mack shouted, “are you okay?”
She squinted up at the top of the hill and saw Mack in silhouette, the morning sun at his back. She waved perkily. “Fine.”
Cammie Jo heard him coming, crashing down through the mossy undergrowth like a bull elephant on the rampage. She was short-winded by the anticipation the sounds of those rescuing feet wrought inside her.
Mack was coming after her.
In a second, he was there, his arms going around her, lifting her out of the damp mud.
Her back was against his chest, she raised her head. His chin was at her mouth so unnervingly close, Cammie Jo forgot everything but the smell of his woodsy skin and how good his solid body felt. Rampant lust raged through her, startling her with the sheer magnitude of erotic sensations.
She wanted him. Hotly, desperately, madly. Here. Now. On the forest floor, in the woods, in the creek. With the squirrels and birds and rabbits watching. He was magnificent. He was sexy. He was…
Laughing at her.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him.
“You are, Sugar Plum.”
“I’m not your sugar plum.”
“No,” he said, “I dare say you’re not.”
“Good. So stop laughing.”
“I can’t. You should see yourself. Miss Priss is a mess. Twigs in your hair, mud on your cheek, moss stains on your jacket.”
“Who are you calling Miss Priss?”
“As if you didn’t know.”
“Where is everyone?” She plucked leaves from her curls and looked up at the embankment for signs of the other hikers.
“I sent them on ahead to catch up with Caleb.”
“So it’s just you and me?”
“Yeah.” His voice was husky. “Alone.”
Uh-oh, what was that dangerous look in his eyes?
“Why are you on this hiking trip? Shouldn’t you be out ferrying tourists back and forth from the airport or something?”
“You don’t want me here?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He cocked his head. “Ever since we ran the ad, Caleb’s been swamped with unexpected business. Tuesday mornings are usually slow for me so I’m pitching in for the summer. Helping out a buddy.”
“And getting a eyeful of the backsides of sexy young women.”
“That too.” His grin turned lopsided and he tightened his grip on her waist. “And your backside is the best I’ve ever seen.”
“Liar.”
He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were a Boy Scout?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I find that hard to believe.” She also found it hard to believe that she was standing here in a dark forest alone with the sexiest man on the face of the earth.
“It’s true.”
“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“If I kiss you again, will you run away like you did last night?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Why did you run away?”
“Er…because I had something in my eye?” That was no lie, she’d had contacts in her eyes.
“Then why did you climb out the bathroom window and leave me with a broken heart?” Dramatically he clutched a hand to the left side of his chest.
Cammie Jo snorted. “Your heart wasn’t broken.”
“But it was.” His tone was light but the expression in his eyes told her she had wounded his pride.
“A girl’s entitled to cold feet, isn’t she?”
“Oh, so that’s what happened.”
Somehow he’d shifted her around in his arms and they were no longer back to chest but chest to breasts and his face was right there, just waiting to be kissed.
“Are your feet cold now?” he murmured.
“Well, they’re pretty wet. I forgot to wear wool socks like they tell you to do in the guide books.”
He made a clucking noise with his tongue. Tsk. Tsk. She wondered what it would feel like to have him make that same sound inside her mouth.
“You’ll never be a good wilderness woman with that kind of memory.”
“Nor by the way I skim helter-skelter down embankments.”
“True enough.” He languidly plucked a twig from her hair, his rough fingers skimming through the silkiness of the loose strands. How many times had she dreamed of moments like these, of being held by a man like this? “But I’m imagining you must have other skills that’d compensate for your lack of memory and balance.”
“You’d think.”
They peered deeply into each other’s eyes. Neither of them blinked or looked away.
“I’m only guessing,” he said. “But yeah, I bet you’ve got a lot of hidden talents. Can you cook?”
“Nope.”
“Sew?”
“’Fraid not.”
“Good with numbers?”
“Sorry.”
“Hmm, so you’re completely without talents?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Ah.” His pupils widened.
“Keep your mind out of the gutter, McCaulley.”
“How do you know where my mind’s at?”
“That wicked twinkle in your eye.”
With the cool air and the dimness of the forest floor contrasting with the heat and brightness of Mack’s eyes, Cammie Jo’s body came alive like a blossoming flower.
“I would like to kiss you,” he said. “But I’m nervous about making the first move. Considering your cold feet and all.”
“That’s thoughtful of you.”
“That’s me, Mr. Thoughtful.”
“Mr. Full-of-himself is more like it.” She grinned.
“So what’s it gonna be? Do we get up, climb out of here and go find the others or…”
“Or what?”
“You tell me.”
She couldn’t stand any more of this cat-and-mouse stuff. She wanted to kiss him and that’s all there was to it.
Have an adventure. Live a little.
Cammie Jo wrapped her arms around his neck, sank to the ground and pulled him down on top of her.
CAMRYN WAS HUNGRY for him, oh yeah, but it was as clear now as it had been last night that she was no expert at kissing. And if she was a novice at kissing did that also mean she was a novice at lovemaking? Mack had trouble reconciling this—since Camryn was old enough and certainly sexy enough to have her pick of lovers—but he couldn’t deny her inexperience.
When he moved his lips from her mouth to the tender flesh at the nape of her neck and then sucked lightly on her skin she just about came undone.
“What? What’s that? What are you doing?” Her body tensed beneath his.
“Love bite.”
“You mean like a hickey?” She sounded horrified.
“Sort of. If I sucked harder it would be a hickey. But giving hickeys in places people can see is immature. I wouldn’t give you one without your permission.”
“Oh, well, that’s good to know.”
“No one’s ever nibbled on you like this?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Nooo. Not quite like that.”
“How ’bout this?” He nipped a trail up her neck to her ear, breathing in the intoxicating scent of spruce and moss and sexy woman, then slowly rimmed her ear with the tip of his tongue.
She shivered all over and goose bumps sprung up on her exposed skin. “Is that what they call a Wet Willie?”
“Uh-huh, do you like?”
“Er…actually no.”
“I’m not driving you wild with anticipation?” No one had ever complained about his technique before.
“Personally, I prefer a Dry Herman.”
“What’s that?”
“No tongue in my ear!”
He chuckled. “You’re a hoot. And I like your honesty. No more Wet Willies.”
“Hey, down there. You two need any help?” Caleb’s voice rang out in the forest, ruining everything.
Mack rolled off Camryn and got to his feet. “Nope.” He shielded his eyes with his hands and looked up the embankment at the twenty-four people grinning down at them. “I think we’ve got everything under control.”
“Is that what you call it? Are you two joining us for the trek home?”
“We’ll be right there.” Mack sighed. Just when things were getting really interesting between them, well, except for the Wet Willie misstep. How far might things have gone if Caleb and company hadn’t shown up?
Not too far. You don’t have any condoms on you and it’s a sure bet she doesn’t, either.
They made their way up the hill back to the others, then finished the hike. Mack sat next to her on the bus ride back.
“How ’bout dinner tonight?” he asked. “I don’t know. I’m thinking not.” That surprised him. He’d expected her to say yes. “Those iceberg feet of yours again?”
“Something like that.” She smiled, Cheshire Cat-like.
Mack said nothing. He was confused. Did she like him or not? Her kisses had said yes, yes, yes, but now her mouth was saying no, no, no.
“Okay, fine.” He leaned back in his seat, folded his arms over his chest.”
“Oh, why not,” she said. “All right. I’ll go out with you.”
OH GOSH, what would she wear? Cammie Jo perused the dresses Kay had loaned her. They were all so beautiful, it was difficult to choose.
Lulu sat on the floor, thumping her tail and watching her try on first this one and then that one.
The totem kept getting in the way as she tugged the dresses over her head and finally, in exasperation, Cammie Jo pulled it off and laid the necklace on the bed.
She decided at last on a pale lavender silk skirt and blouse set. Humming to herself, she grabbed clean underwear from the dresser drawer and hurried to the bathroom for a long soak in the tub before getting ready.
An hour later, after she’d finished her bath and done her hair and makeup, she padded back to the bedroom in her bathrobe. She glanced at the clock. Seven-twenty.
She’d left the door open so Lulu could depart at will, and it appeared the dog had gone. Cammie Jo shut the door and turned to get dressed. She slipped on the skirt and blouse, wriggled into panty hose and heels, then reached for the totem.
It was gone.
Odd. She could have sworn she left it on the bedspread. Maybe she’d placed it on the dresser and had forgotten about it.
No. Not on the dresser.
A bit of panic began to rise inside her. She dropped to her hands and knees, searched under the bed.
No totem.
She fluffed the bedspread, lifted the pillows. Nada.
She flung open the dresser drawers, ransacked the closet.
Zippo.
Oh jeez. Oh no.
Dread squeezed her heart as she remembered what Mack had told her about Lulu. The dog was a kleptomaniac.
And then she knew exactly what had happened. That Siberian husky had stolen her necklace!
She looked at the clock. Seven-forty. Officially time to freak out. She couldn’t let Mack see her like this.
A quick glance in the mirror told her the truth. Her shoulders were slumped. Gone was Camryn’s straight, confident posture. Her hair, which only minutes before looked perfect, was now a disheveled mop, rife with static cling. Her mascara had smeared, giving her raccoon eyes and in her worry, she’d chewed off her lipstick. She was a hopeless mess.
She had only one option. Cancel the date. She searched in the bottom of her purse for Mack’s business card with his telephone number on it. She punched in the number with trembling fingers and left a message on his answering machine, telling him she wasn’t feeling well.
WHAT? SHE WAS breaking their date, blowing him off? Mack, wrapped in a bath towel and dripping water onto the kitchen rug, poked the answering machine button with an outraged finger and played her message a third time.
He called the B&B and asked for her room. The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
She better damn well be in the bathroom tossing her cookies or she had a lot of explaining to do.
Forget her, McCaulley. A fickle woman isn’t worth the aggravation.
Good advice, but his ego wouldn’t let it lie. What had he done wrong? Mack fumed.
Women! He raked his fingers through his hair, stomped to the bedroom and got dressed. Maybe he would wander the streets of Bear Creek and find her cozied up with some other guy. Mack ground his teeth. And what would he do then?
No, better plan, go see if Jake wanted to grab a beer or two over at the Happy Puffin. It wasn’t as if there weren’t dozens of women in town eager to entertain the Metropolitan magazine bachelors.
Yeah okay, some of those women had numerous pierced body parts and tattoos and green hair but what the hey? Right now that’s exactly what he needed. A night out with his vivacious buddy, flirting with any and every female in sight. That would cure his infatuation with Camryn.
Except drowning his sorrows in beer and female companionship wasn’t really Mack’s style. Deep in his heart Mack was a one-woman man. He wanted that happily ever after and he was scared it didn’t exist. He was worried that he wasn’t any better at picking a wife than his father had been.
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