The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild (19 page)

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

Because you might see my scars
. She forced herself to keep her gaze on his face, since he seemed offended by any less. And her heart fluttered when his hard mouth curved a bit on one side, hinting at a smile. It tugged at the piercing on his lip in the sexiest way.

“Not scared,” she blurted again.

“You shy then, Bo Peep?”

Shy
was only the tip of the iceberg. But it was hard to describe exactly how she was feeling when her tongue was locked to the roof of her mouth. She averted her eyes again, only to have her gaze alight on those arms corded with dark tattoos. His entire look was one of roguishness and utter sexiness. Totally forbidden.

Totally hot. He’d be in her dreams tonight, that was for sure, provided that she allowed herself to fantasize about a man like him being interested in a mouse like her.

He chuckled. “I’m going to guess that’s a yes.”

“Yes,” she said, and the word was so quiet that she cringed internally.

“You don’t have to be shy around me,” he said easily. “I’m not anyone important.”

Just the most stunning man who’s ever talked to me
, she thought to herself, but said nothing aloud.

The front door to the lodge banged, and Elise jumped backward a step, retreating away from him. Brenna wandered in.

“Well, Elise,” she began, undoing the chin strap of her bright pink ATV helmet as she strode to her desk. “They’re all in hiding from me, so unless you want Pop, we’re going to have to do this thing without a model—” She stopped in her tracks at the sight of Rome and a beaming smile crossed her face. “Why, lookie there.” Her tone became sugary sweet. “Hello, Rome, you sweet thing you.” Brenna sashayed over, grinning like a madwoman. “Did Elise already tell you that she needs a man?”

Oh no.
Elise felt her face get hot. She stared at the floor again, wishing it would swallow her up. Did Brenna have to word it like that? It made her sound desperate and lonely.

Not that she wasn’t, of course. She just didn’t want it to
sound
like she was.

“A man, huh?” Rome’s voice sounded amused, but he wasn’t laughing at her at least.

“For her photo shoot. She needs a male model and Dane and Colt are hiding out from us. You want to volunteer?”

Volunteer? Elise wanted to protest. Rome made her too uncomfortably aware of who and what he was. She needed someone like Dane, who she’d known since grade school and thought of more like a brother than a grown man. Or Colt, who’d be all business the entire time and never make her feel uncomfortable. Not Rome with his gorgeous eyes and long lashes and dark tattoos and that sexy lip ring. She had to concentrate for her photos and if he was distracting her, she’d get nothing but lousy shots.

And she really should have said some of this aloud. But her tongue remained glued to the roof of her mouth and she gave Brenna a mute look of appeal.

“Is this part of my new job?” Rome asked. “Cause if so, I suppose I don’t mind.”

“It is,” Brenna told him firmly, her voice cheerful. “We require all our men to strip down and oil up.”

“This a survival business or a strip joint?”

“Which one did you want it to be?” Brenna teased him.

Elise stood by mutely, listening to their banter. Brenna was so easy with Rome—so easy with all the guys, actually. Elise was wildly jealous of her. Not only was she pretty, she was fun and outgoing. Elise was none of those things.

Brenna could get a man like Rome. Not Elise. Boring, plain, unable to speak to men Elise.

“You sure you want to take pictures of me? I’m not exactly clean-cut,” Rome said, and his hand went to his flat stomach and he idly scratched it.

“You don’t have any scary tats, do you?” Brenna asked bluntly. “No obscene pickle-fucking or racist symbols or anything?”

Rome snorted. “Hell no.”

“I think we’ll need to see some proof,” Brenna told him, and moved to Elise’s side, elbowing her in camaraderie. “Right, Elise?”

A small squeak that might have been assent escaped her throat.

Rome looked over at her. “Was that a yes?”

She looked back at Brenna with mute appeal. But when there was no help coming from that quarter, she turned back to Rome. “Um . . . okay?”

“All right, then.” He reached for the hem of his tight shirt and pulled it out of his jeans, then dragged it over his head.

Elise was struck dumb at the sight of him without his shirt on. Big, brawny shoulders framed flat pectorals and washboard abs. A large, dark series of lines covered the front of his chest, going from collarbone down to below his pectorals. Skulls, knives, and other symbols were woven into the intricate design. It wasn’t typical, but she was fascinated by it. And by him.

“Hmm. I don’t know if that’s too much for the photo. What do you think, Elise?” Brenna turned to her.

“Beautiful,” Elise said softly, still staring at those tattoos. They were a work of art all their own, the way they flowed together. That chest tattoo even flowed to the ones covering his arms, so they were almost like another skin on him. And they were done with the greatest of care—that much was obvious. She wanted to run her hands over the tattoos and the hot skin they covered, just so she could admire them with her touch.

And then she realized she’d said he was beautiful aloud. Her face flushed and she took a step backward involuntarily. “I, um, have to set up my equipment,” she told Brenna. “He doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to.”

Before she could hear Rome’s answer, she grabbed her case of camera equipment and rushed out the front door.

So humiliating!
Part of her prayed that Rome would decide he was too busy to fool around with the photo shoot. The other part of her wanted to get pictures of that gorgeous man so she could admire them at her leisure. It would almost be as good as the real thing. Almost.

 • • • 

“God, I wish I had your job,” Brenna said to Beth Ann, sipping a straw as she sat in a folding deck chair, a big floppy hat on her head as she drank her blended homemade margarita.

Next to her in an identical chair and wearing an identical hat, Miranda lifted her bottle of beer to her lips, gaze riveted ahead. “I don’t want her job. I like watching.”

Beth Ann grinned and considered the man standing in front of her with a tilt of her head. “Do you think we need more mud or more mist?”

“More mud,” Brenna said. “Baby likes ’em dirty. Rowrrr.”

“I vote mist,” Miranda chimed in, lifting her beer.

“Do I get a vote?” Rome asked. He stood next to Beth Ann in the midst of the trees, on a rocky outcropping situated just behind the lodge. He wore no shirt and his face, neck, and one shoulder were spattered with mud, as were the dark BDUs he wore, and combat boots. Two camo streaks had been painted under his eyes.

“No vote,” Brenna said. “You are simply a canvas for greatness.”

Rome snorted.

Beth Ann considered him a moment longer, and then spritzed him with another fine mist. “I think the gleam on the tattoos is a nice touch. What do you think, Elise?”

“Not too much mist,” Elise said in a soft voice. She leaned over her camera tripod, adjusted the settings, and then moved forward to where Beth Ann stood. She reached for Rome’s arm and positioned it carefully, just below his belt and on his hip. Then she adjusted his fingers, stepped back, regarded him, and then moved forward again.

“What’s the problem?” Miranda asked.

“He’s stiff.” Elise frowned, staring at his hands.

Miranda tittered.

Elise jerked up, turned bright red, and staggered backward. “That wasn’t what I meant. I . . . I . . . he’s fine.”

“I’ll say he is,” Brenna commented. “Rowwrrr again.”

Elise shot her another mortified look and retreated back to her camera. She said nothing, but her hair hung in front of her face, as if she could hide behind a wall of long, swinging tresses.

Brenna wasn’t deterred by Elise’s shyness. How could she not stare at Rome’s tatted-up hotness? Heck, Elise had even said aloud that she thought Rome was beautiful. That counted for something. He’d be good for her, provided she looked up from her shoes every now and then to notice what a gorgeous piece of man-meat was there for the taking. And Grant’s sister was nice, but she was so uptight that she looked like she could use a few rounds in the hay with a much wilder guy.

Rome brushed a hand across his brow, absently wiping sweat—or spritzed water—from his brow. Immediately, Elise’s camera began to whirr as she started snapping photos of the casual motion. “Remind me again,” he said, “why I’m the one stuck out here getting basted in mud and squirted with water?”

“Because Colt and Dane are busy,” Beth Ann said in an easy drawl, taking a step backward to proudly survey her handiwork as Elise continued to take photos.

“Busy hiding,” Rome muttered, but then flexed and winked in Elise’s direction, clearly not as miserable as he pretended. “What about Grant?”

Brenna was pretty sure that a choked little sound erupted from Elise, despite being shielded by the camera and her hair. “Yeah,” Brenna commented, sitting up. “What about Grant? I could stand to see him a little filthy.”

“I’m guessing you’re an expert at seeing him filthy already,” Miranda quipped.

“Maybe.” But Brenna grinned.

Elise looked over at Brenna curiously. “I thought you guys were fighting?”

“We kissed and made up. Lots, and lots of kissing.”

“Please don’t tell me any more,” Elise said, raising a hand in protest. “He’s my brother.”

Beth Ann came over, a wrinkle of surprise between her perfect blond brows. “You guys were fighting?”

“When are we not fighting?” Brenna said, taking another sip of her drink. “But I like to think of it as just a precursor to some really good makeup sex. It just means that the makeup sex is frequent, right?”

“I guess so, honey.” But Beth Ann didn’t look convinced. She shared a worried look with Miranda. “It’s tearing up the boys, you know.”

By “the boys,” Beth Ann clearly meant Dane and Colt. And that made Brenna curious. “Tearing them up? How so?”

Miranda chimed in. “When you guys aren’t speaking, they never know whose side to take. Grant’s their buddy, but they look at you like a little sister. It makes things difficult for them.”

Why was everyone suddenly interested in her sex life? Why had their casual sex started to affect others? Brenna began to feel that uncomfortable, smothering sensation of being trapped. They thought of her and Grant as a pair. That the health of their relationship suddenly affected theirs. And she felt the sudden, irresistible urge to escape. “I think I need a refill,” she announced, ignoring the fact that her glass was still half-full. “Be right back.”

Before anyone could volunteer to accompany her, she hurried away. She needed a few minutes to herself, to get her head straight. Get a breath of air. Something.

But as soon as she walked back into the main lodge, Grant was there. And she sucked in a breath. Speaking of wet and delicious . . . he looked as if he’d just recently come out of a shower. His skin was lightly flushed, and his hair had been combed into slick waves that were only half-dry. He wore a dark Polo and khaki pants and was watching a stock report scroll across the flat-screen TV, remote in hand.

And even though Rome, who was far more her type with the tattoos and roguish attitude, was just outside? He hadn’t done a thing for her. But seeing Grant in his straitlaced office wear? It made her instantly want him.

And a little sigh escaped her throat.

He glanced over at the sight of her, and a warm smile tugged his mouth. “Nice hat. You look ready for a day on the beach.”

“Why, are you planning on taking me to the beach in November?” She gave him a saucy wink, her tongue lightly running over the end of her straw. All that worry about not being able to breathe because she was smothered? Kinda forgotten in the presence of Grant’s dominating sexiness. He tended to make her forget all her resolutions when he smiled at her.

And she figured that wasn’t entirely such a bad thing.

“I could be convinced,” Grant chuckled, moving to her and looping an arm around her waist. “But you’d have to borrow a bikini from someone.”

She made a mock-pout. “You mean I’d have to wear a swimsuit?”

“As much as I like to see you totally naked, you might want to save that for when we’re alone.” The words were admonishing, but the tone—and the teasing look on his face—was so affectionate and easy that it made her heart melt—and her pulse throb.

Let the others think what they wanted. She and Grant knew what they had.

T
hunder crashed overhead, and the lights flickered in the main lodge. From her desk, Brenna looked up and winced, glancing over at Grant. “It’s nasty weather today.”

“It is,” he agreed, seemingly unconcerned as he worked on a series of brochure proofs, his gaze intent on his computer monitor. “But our clients pay to get the full survival experience, remember? This is just part of the lessons—how to survive in the elements.”

“But this isn’t one or two elements,” Brenna protested, hugging her coffee close and frowning at the windows. She moved toward one, staring out at the dark blue skies, and shivered at the wall of clouds that crackled with electricity. One of the trees near the gravel parking lot was nearly bent sideways with the wind. “This is like, all of the elements. At once.”

Grant glanced over at her, a hint of a scowl on his face. “It’s Texas. We get bad weather all the time. What’s got you all bothered today?”

She shrugged. “It’s Rome’s first class on his own today. I’m worried about him.”

He got up from his desk and moved to her side. Coming up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled at her bare neck, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. “He’ll be fine, Brenna. We hired him because he’s good at this sort of thing. This is what he does. He’s had intensive training for these kinds of situations, remember?”

There were a few fallacies in his thinking, which worried Brenna. First of all, she’d hired Rome because he’d showed up, not because he was the most qualified candidate. She figured he needed the job and he’d work all the harder because of it.

She hadn’t been the only one to take Rome at face value. Pop had adopted the guy as if he was just another one of his sons who had shown up on the doorstep, looking for work. Colt and Dane had been leery about him at first, but when a few days had passed and no one had raised the alarm, she breathed a sigh of relief. Rome was a hard worker and a quick learner. If he was missing a few gaps in his knowledge, no one had noticed yet, and she didn’t plan on ratting him out.

Of course, now that the weather had taken a turn for the worse, she was rethinking her brilliant plan. Rome had taken out a small group that morning, three men, all first timers. If something happened, she wasn’t sure that any of them could take care of themselves.

A new bolt of lightning lit up the sky and illuminated a small group of men coming in from the woods. Brenna gasped and pointed. “Someone’s come back.”

Grant kissed her cheek and then moved to the coat rack, grabbing his rain slicker. “You stay here. I’ll see what’s going on.” He tossed it on, flipped up the hood, and then trotted out into the pounding rain.

Brenna pressed her face to the glass, trying to make out who it was as the trail of men came in from the woods. Her heart sank when four heads emerged, then two more, then two more. That was too many to be Rome’s group, unless he’d come in with either Dane or Colt. She forced herself to wait, drumming her fingers on her arm impatiently as the men headed across the sodden clearing toward the main lodge.

When the men came inside, though, she saw her worst fear had been realized—Dane and Colt had brought their groups in and were chatting with Grant. “The river’s flash flooding,” Colt said. “It’s not safe to hit our usual areas, and there’s a chance of tornados. I’d rather wait a day or two and see how things shake out.”

“First rule of survival’s knowing when you’re licked,” Dane agreed.

Grant took in the conversation, grimly nodding. “You guys know best. We’ll make arrangements for our guests, then.” He gestured that the wet, bedraggled men should make themselves comfortable on the lodge couches. “Brenna can get some towels and hot coffee—”

“Brenna’s busy,” she butted in, moving to Dane and Colt’s side. “Did you guys see Rome anywhere?”

Dane shook his head.

“The trail was pretty washed out,” Colt said, rubbing his chin with concern. “We should go back out and look for him. He’s not as familiar with the grounds as we are.”

“I’ll go with you,” Brenna said, running back to her desk and grabbing the keys to the ATV shed. “Just give me a moment—”

“What? You’re not going with them,” Grant interrupted, a furious look on his face.

Brenna tilted her head, staring at him, then snapped her fingers. “You’re right. We’ll cover a lot more ground if we split up.”

“No, I mean you’re not going out in this weather.” Grant moved to her side and grabbed her elbow. “Absolutely not. If it’s that dangerous, I don’t want you out in it.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t be ridiculous, Grant.”

“Trust me, I’m not.”

She ignored that, and the steely tone in his voice, and tried to simply move around him. He stood in the way, blocking her, and her jaw dropped in surprise. “Grant, I’m going after him.”

“
No
, you’re not.”

On the far side of the room, Dane pointed at the door. “Colt and I are going to hike down to where his group was and see if they need any help.”

“I’ll be along, too,” Brenna called over Grant’s shoulder. “Give me a few minutes.”

“No, she won’t,” Grant said. “I mean it, Brenna. You’re not going anywhere. Not on my watch.”

“You’ll let them go out?”

“They’re trained survivalists.”

“I’m the assistant! It’s my job to assist!”

“Not this sort of thing. Let the others handle it. Rome doesn’t need you going after him.”

“Funny, I’m not sure we agree.”

“It doesn’t matter if we agree. I want you staying here with me.”

She stared at him for a long, searching moment, trying to understand him. “Please tell me this isn’t some sort of wacky plot to keep me here because you’re jealous of Rome.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Grant said, tight-lipped. “I’m not jealous.”

“Then step aside and let me go out. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not leaving this lodge as my employee.”

“Fine. Then fire me and I’m still going after Rome. You can’t stop me.”

“Goddamn it, Brenna!” His face was white with fury. “I won’t let you get hurt!”

Exasperation swept through her. He was making her crazy. “No one said I was going to get hurt!”

“There’s a million things that could go wrong. You could get a flat tire. Skid into a ditch. Lightning could strike your vehicle. You could flip over. Those things aren’t safe. In fact, I don’t want you driving them at all anymore.”

She stared at him as if he’d grown another head. “Are you kidding me? Lightning striking the vehicle? I have better odds of a sinkhole opening up underneath me.”

“Another very good reason why you’re not going out there.”

“Grant,” she protested.

“No. Absolutely not.” His mouth was tight, his gaze unforgiving. He looked ready to snap. Tension was vibrating off him in almost palpable waves.

She’d never seen him like this. “Why are you being so controlling?”

Grant’s fists clenched at his side and he turned away from her. “You can go after him. But if you do, you’re destroying any sort of friendship that we have between us.”

Her jaw dropped. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“That’s how I feel. I don’t give a fuck if it’s ridiculous. But if you do, go ahead and leave, then. Clearly how I feel doesn’t matter to you at all.” And he turned and stormed out of the main lodge, heading for his cabin.

Brenna’s mouth worked silently. She stared after his retreating back, wondering what the hell just happened.

One of the men in the lodge cleared his throat and gestured at the window. “Uh, miss?”

“Huh?” She turned toward him, her cheeks flushing. That strange argument with Grant had been witnessed by all of their clients.
How embarrassing.

“There are a few men coming up the path right now.” He gestured to the window.

Brenna rushed to it and counted heads. Three men in Wilderness Survival Expeditions slickers, and three men in various gear. Their missing campers. Perfect. She didn’t have to go out after Rome after all.

Now she could go after Grant and figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

Irritation making her steps quick and crisp, Brenna marched out of the main lodge and down the path to Grant’s cabin, ignoring the pounding rain that quickly soaked her to the skin. She pushed open the door to Grant’s cabin and didn’t see him in the living room. A quick peek up the ladder didn’t show him either. On a hunch, she headed toward the bathroom and saw a narrow strip of light under the door. Just over the pounding rain she could hear the shower going.

Good.
If he was just taking a shower, then they could still talk, because she had
plenty
to say to him.

She pushed the door open . . . and halted, her anger deflating at the sight of him.

Grant sat on the side of the tub in his jeans, his shirt tossed in the sink. The shower was running, but he wasn’t in it. His head was buried in his hands, as if he were trying to compose himself. And when he looked up when she opened the door, there was such stark pain in his pale face that she forgot all of her anger.

She moved to sit next to him on the tub. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, sitting up straight. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Her hand moved to his and, to her surprise, he clasped it hard. “Talk to me. Is it Rome?”

A short, bitter laugh escaped him. “It’s definitely not Rome.”

“Then what is it? You can talk to me.”

Grant scrubbed a hand over his face, but still said nothing, the tortured look remaining.

She stroked her fingers over his nape, rubbing him. “Something’s clearly upset you deeply about the situation. Something deeper than what you’re telling me.”

“My wife . . . my first wife. I guess . . . I have strong reactions to unsafe situations.” Each word seemed like a struggle for him to admit. He paused, then sighed.

“Go on,” she coaxed gently. “What happened with her?”

“When we first got married, she was happy as could be. We were both going to college—I majored in business, and she majored in economics. We were very normal. And then for her twenty-first birthday, a friend took her bungee jumping. We thought it would be funny but harmless, something to laugh about afterward. I didn’t realize it was going to change everything.”

“How so?”

“Heather loved it. She loved it so much she went again the next weekend. And then after that, she went parachuting. And then extreme caving. Rappelling down sheer cliffs. And anything else that she could find within a decent drive from our apartment. And then she started doing stuff that involved longer than day trips. Scuba-diving with sharks in the Great Barrier Reef, rhino hunting in Africa, whatever she wanted to do that she could think of. Didn’t matter if it was illegal or not, as long as she got a rush out of it. She was addicted to the adrenaline high, and it changed her. If she wasn’t home, she was away on a thrill-seeking trip. And if she wasn’t on a thrill-seeking trip, she was . . .” His voice trailed off and he swallowed hard. “. . . thrill-seeking here.”

Brenna shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“She brought home strangers because it excited her, and when I got upset, she promised she’d stop. And then she just met them at clubs. Two or three at a time, it didn’t matter. Part of the excitement was the forbidden. I was pretty sure she was into drugs at some point, too. Not because she wanted them, but just for the high. After a while, she thought everything was boring—me included.”

Brenna said nothing but simply rubbed his neck and let him keep talking.

“It got out of control and our marriage became miserable fast. I still loved her, but it was obvious that I wasn’t enough for her anymore. Her trips got longer and more dangerous. It wouldn’t matter if I told her no or that I worried about her. She just needed that next ‘thrill’ fix.” His hand clenched tight in hers, clearly struggling with his thoughts.

“What happened?” Brenna asked gently.

“She died, of course.” Grant’s words were bitter with resentment. “Even though she had asthma, she got it in her head that she should climb Mount Everest. It doesn’t matter that people have died repeatedly doing it. Someone told her that it was the biggest thrill you could undertake, and that was all Heather needed to know. She signed up to climb to the summit, and she declined an oxygen tank. It’d be more daring, she decided, if she went without one, and if it was more daring, it’d mean more to her. And those bastards who were supposed to be her guides let her do it. She died without ever reaching the summit.”

Oh no. Brenna felt a sick clench in her stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s the worst is that it was preventable. She didn’t have to die. She could have put on an oxygen tank, but no one stopped her. We just all let her do whatever she wanted, because she was lively and fun and determined and so full of life that you never thought anything bad would happen to her.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “I’m told that when she died, there were seven other people hiking to the summit, and that they all stood by and watched her collapse and die without helping her. Because helping her would have meant that they’d have to give up their chance at going to the top of the mountain, and they wanted that more than anything. She died surrounded by even more adrenaline junkies. And you know what I can’t stop thinking about?”

“No, what?” Her words were achingly soft.

“It’s not safe to pull bodies down from Mount Everest. The air’s so thin that helicopters can’t fly, and it’s too risky for rescuers to drag the dead down. So they just . . . sit there. In the snow. Her body’s still up there, somewhere. And everyone else who climbs the mountain just walks past it to get to the summit, because they need that fix, too. And meanwhile, I wasn’t able to bury my wife because her thrill-seeking was more important to her than marriage.”

Brenna said nothing for a long moment. There was so much self-loathing and self-hate in Grant’s words that she wasn’t entirely sure how to process it at first. Then, she gently asked, “So why do you blame yourself?”

“Because I didn’t stop her. I didn’t put my foot down when she started putting herself in danger. Because I loved her and thought that she’d have enough common sense not to get into dangerous situations. Because I didn’t tell her no. Because I cared for her and supported her even when she started sleeping around and doing drugs. Because I thought if I was patient, she’d grow out of the phase and we could go back to being just us again.” He sighed heavily. “And because I wasn’t exciting enough for her. I always wondered if I could have done more to make her happy.”