Part 4 (1/2)
She'd had every intention of making Jackson Delacroix feel uncomfortable, and here she was tongue-tied and so self-conscious that he probably thought she was just another camper groupie who was stunned by his magnificent face and body or his reputation as a writer. The fact that he was behind her was unsettling enough, because she'd glanced over her shoulder once to find him staring at the movement of her hips and grinning as she stumbled across the gravel path between their cabins.
Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how he unnerved her!
”You aren't at all what I expected, though,” she repeated herself.
”So you said.”
”I guess I expected you to have an alligator as a pet or something.”
”No gators in Oklahoma, chere. 'Cept mebbe at the Tulsa or Oklahoma City zoos.” ”I also thought you'd be dressed in a chef's ap.r.o.n and slaving over some hot stove.” Not wearing tight jeans and a chambray s.h.i.+rt with the top three or four b.u.t.tons undone. His jeans were so tight she could visualize his pulse beating through them. Her knees weakened at the thought that he might catch her staring at his package.
”Well, you know the old sayin'... always expect the unexpected.”
Marilyn skidded on a piece of gravel when she looked back around, making her hips thrust forward and her legs buckle.
”Easy, there!” Jack helped her regain her balance by wrapping an arm about her shoulders and sidling up to scoop her effortlessly off her feet.
”You're a virgin camper, aren't you?” He looked down into her upturned face. ”n.o.body wears high heels to the trout camp. I gar-ahn-tee you gonna twist your ankle in those things.”
Marilyn was so surprised when he picked her up that by the time he'd set her down in front of the door a couple of seconds later, she was still speechless.
”Allow me.” He smoothly took the key from her trembling hand, his body so close to hers that she could smell the faint scent of his aftershave.
He handed the key back to her, and Marilyn could feel his blue gaze on her face as she took the key and said thank you.
”After you.” He went back for her luggage and followed her once again, this time into the cabin.
As Marilyn let her eyes adjust to the darkened room, Jack set her luggage on the bed and opened the blinds, pausing on his way back to the living area to glance down at the tags on her luggage.
Despite her desire not to seem impressed by Jack or any part of his lifestyle, Marilyn couldn't repress a large smile as she did a three-sixty turn around the cozy two-room cabin. Stone fireplace with an original Native American painting signed by the artist, comfortable if worn sofa and easy chair with ottoman, the full-sized bed just beyond the sofa and a small dinette set with a galley kitchen. Definitely no animal skins or gators.
”You'll find linens in the armoire opposite the bed, and all of the small kitchen appliances are in the cupboard beneath the sink.” He nodded toward the far end of the cabin. ”There's a full bath just around the corner from the sleeping area, and if you don't want the bed, there's always the king-sized mattress upstairs in the loft. Just be careful- don't try to stand or you'll whack your head.”
She looked down at her high heels and asked, ”Do I look like a woman who wants to sleep among the top rafters of the cabin?”
”No, chere, you look like the kinda woman who likes to be on bottom.” He tipped his head so that his eyes were directly within her view and grinned as he watched the color creep from her throat to her cheeks. Licking his lips slowly, he added, ”I'll see you and your friend for dinner at my place tonight. Seven o'clock all right with you?”
As if that weren't humiliation enough, he turned just as he got to the door and winked. ”Oh, and you might want to wear something not quite so...virginal looking. Wouldn't want to ruin your suit while you're roughin' it with us river rats.”
He waited briefly to gauge her reaction, remembering another Marilyn who had recently called him that term. Satisfied that she was more shocked by his flirting than the words he had spoken, he smiled and closed the door.
”Of all the nerve!” Marilyn muttered, plopping down on the bed beside her luggage.
She felt her face with her hands. Hot, just as she'd expected. Still beet red most likely. Virgin. He'd used that word to describe her twice. She'd show him virgin tonight! How could she have let him under her skin so quickly?
She fished in her purse for her cell phone and punched in Colette's number. ”What's our blabbermouth friend doing?”
”He's unpacking and setting up his laptop. Total internet wh.o.r.e. Said he has to check his email before he showers and changes for tonight. What am I going to do? I can' t spend the entire afternoon over here with him! I'm running out of excuses to stay here!”
”Just make him promise not to tell Jack who we are!” Marilyn urged. ”I need more time to think about what I want to say!”
”Why aren't you with Jack?” Colette's voice dropped to a whisper. ”I thought the two of you might be sharing a drink by now. Breaking the ice so that you can tell him about the cooking contest!”
”He wanted to help bring in our luggage, and the man has me so rattled I completely forgot about keeping him occupied until you got back.”
”You should have stayed at his cabin until I returned!” Colette chastised.
”What the h.e.l.l could I do after Chuck told him I was a writer? I figured if I stayed there we'd wind up talking writing, and I didn't want to do that!”
”So what was so bad about him helping carry the luggage?”
Marilyn groaned. ”He is the most conceited...”
”...handsome...” Colette said.
”... flippant...”
”...interesting...” Colette added.
”... man!” Marilyn finished. ”With a huge d.i.c.k if those jeans aren't lying. It'll be impossible for us to keep Jack and Chuck from talking to one another. I might as well just go over there and tell him who I am and why I'm here.”
”Don't do that-not just yet.” Colette sounded soothing. ”I may be able to persuade Chuck not to tell him anything.”
”Colette, you are one of those cute, prissy, utterly feminine and charming women who can twist men around their little fingers most of the time, but I doubt if even you can keep the lid on this.”
”So what if he does find out?” Colette asked. ”So he'll realize you're more or less his boss at the company.”
”His boss!” Marilyn snorted. ”Can you imagine telling the king of the world that you are his boss? The one who gets to make decisions regarding his livelihood?” Then she groaned. ”And now... I have to tell him not only that but that I've arranged to put him on display as a fraud!”
”I see your point. Besides, he's very charming and attractive.”
”I am not remotely attracted... ” Marilyn started to protest but sighed in resignation. ”Oh, who am I kidding? He's gorgeous, and if he weren't one of our clients...” She groaned again. ”We have to tell him tonight, Colette. Larabee's representatives will be here no later than the day after tomorrow!”
”You'll think of some way,” Colette said.
Jack flipped open his laptop, connected to the internet and typed in the name he'd read off her luggage tags. To his amazement, a formidable list of information came up. He clicked on one hyperlink labeled New York Times articles and sat back in his chair to read, but when one story came up dealing with canoeing he leaned forward and blinked. She'd written about something she'd obviously never done? He winced slightly as his conscience p.r.i.c.ked him. For that matter, they sounded like a perfect match, considering he'd deceived people for years with his cookbooks.
Not that he'd ever considered his writing deceitful. He'd never once claimed to be a chef, had never attested to actually cooking the recipes himself.
Nevertheless, the thought of challenging her just a little made his lips curve into a smile. Next time she baited him about cooking, he would suggest they all take a float trip down the Illinois River. That'd cool her jets.
Then awareness struck him. She was a writer who came here to write about cooking -about him! That must be it! This was the journalist his editor had threatened to send, and she probably didn't know any more about cooking than she did canoeing and was just looking for a good story.