Besides, he enjoyed his single life.
A lot.
But with ocean and flowers humming in his brain, he could understand why some men committed. The way he felt right now made him think of building a house, locking Carly inside and keeping her there forever.
He smiled at the image. He could lose the forever part, but the idea of locking her up had a certain appeal.
He glanced at her again. His gaze slid over her body. She wore snug blue jeans that clung to just the right curves.
He could tell she liked what she did. She radiated that kind of confidence and enjoyment. Damn, she was beautiful, large brown eyes, delicate features, high graceful cheekbones, arched brows, the faintest indentation at her chin. Her dark brown hair, covered in a rust-colored hat, hung past her shoulders. Despite the dry, sunny climate, her complexion looked like she bathed in cream. He’d like to see her bathing in cream.
He cleared his throat and fixed his gaze elsewhere.
He hadn’t expected this on a Jeep tour in Sedona at the hind end of June. He hadn’t even wanted to take a tour. Trekking up to the Rim had been Brad’s idea.
Now he thought Brad might just be some kind of genius.
But he needed his thoughts elsewhere. He had a critical reason for obtaining the winery. In a little over a month, he had prospective clients out of the Napa Valley wine country coming into town. He’d been working the contact for the past eighteen months and had secured a commitment from three couples to visit Arizona at his invitation. Their combined investment portfolios amounted to just over two hundred million, even after the ups and downs on Wall-Street in recent years. Red Canyon Vineyards would provide the best environment to bring the deal home. He knew it in his gut the way he knew summer storms brought lightning.
Tomorrow he’d secure a meeting with the owner of Jumpin’ Jeep Tours and make an offer way beyond her expectations.
His executive assistant, Sheila, had already had a proposal rejected about a month ago, which had told him the direction he needed to go. He wasn’t concerned about the woman’s initial refusal. A first ‘no’ meant nothing.
Sheila had since collected some general data on the owner. He had the file in his trunk but hadn’t looked at it yet. He would tonight then he’d put the finishing touches on his offer.
Although, as he glanced at Carly, he thought there was a good chance he wouldn’t get to that file until much later tonight.
Who would have thought?
Something so extraordinary in Sedona.
And she drove a Jeep.
He fixed his eyes on the road.
“You take this trip every day?” he asked.
“Five days a week, four times a day.”
“Do your teeth ever rattle?”
“Five days a week, four times a day.”
He laughed.
“Hold on,” she called out.
He wanted to hold on and then some.
* * * * * * * * *
Carly shifted and urged her Jeep up the winding, gutted road. She told the tour that dynamite had forged the route in the early nineteen hundreds. Those were the days when ordinary citizens could just light up stick after stick, blast away at a hillside, and make a road. Who could do that today?
Schnebly Hill pointed the way to Flagstaff, which in turn had been a lumber town that purchased the fresh fruits and vegetables grown in Sedona. Flagstaff now housed a university and supported the trucking industry along Interstate 40.
The Japanese tourists chattered in quick bursts. Quint turned around and addressed them in their language. He spoke for some time. Carly saw in her rear-view mirror that the foreign tourists now smiled and nodded.
“Did you just translate for me?” she asked.
He said, “Sure,” just like that.
Her mind fired up in several directions all at once. What kind of man knew Japanese? Where had he learned it? When?
She spoke French un petit peu, but he had translated words like dynamite and produce. She didn’t even know plate and rug in French. That he knew Japanese did something to her.
She shifted and coaxed the vehicle over one of the many boulders that jutted from the road. She shifted again and hurried through another low patch. She knew every rut, bump and boulder of the road by heart. As she worked her gears, she talked about the ancient junipers and Ponderosa pines. Quint offered a few words to the group in back.
“How do you know what ‘juniper’ is in Japanese?” she asked.
“I lived in Tokyo for a year.”
Carly felt a little dizzy…again. Quint had been places, had adventures, had the drive to strike out and accomplish the extraordinary. Needful sensations moved through her, powering her desire, beating at her resistance. She admired him. She envied him. Not that she felt discontent with her life in Sedona, au contraire, but he had moved out into the world.
She pulled over to give the tourists a chance to take pictures of the red towering buttes. Camcorders and cameras filled her rearview. Even Brad Hansen lifted a digital and took some shots.
Quint appeared to have little interest in photography. She felt his hand settle on her arm. Her gaze shot back to him. He leaned so close that her lungs ceased working.
“Problem?” he asked, his eyes half-lidded. He glanced down at his hand and gave her arm a squeeze.
Ooo, that mountain lion appeared again.
She scrambled another breath. He stroked her arm and her gaze fell to his lips and his half-smile. Desire tightened within. She struggled to find a protest but instead shook her head.
“Good,” he murmured.
How was this in any way wise?
His lips twitched. He searched her eyes for a long moment. When Brad’s laughter floated forward, Quint released her arm and sat back in his seat.
Carly focused on the road ahead as she once more stepped on the gas. Too many thoughts jammed her mind to do much more than recite a few pieces of trivia about javelinas and their penchant for eating prickly-pear cactus.
She pulled over several times on the jolting drive up the hill to allow for pictures. Quint took possession of her arm each time and still she couldn’t find a protest with which to rebuke his sudden ownership. Instead, she found herself searching for new places to pull over.
What was she thinking?
Once.
Tina’s wicked encouragement had taken hold of her mind.
When she pulled over again, his hand slipped off her arm and drifted in lazy circles over her stomach. Her bra felt too tight and her jeans chafed her. Her skin prickled like she had a mild sunburn. Now she really couldn’t breathe.
If they’d been alone, she would have started pulling her clothes off and begging.
At last on the Rim, she had thought to remain by the Jeep. Maybe she could cool off. Maybe there was still a chance she could be rid of these overwhelming sensations. However, Quint, who had taken several steps from the vehicle turned back and waved her forward.
Her feet moved without one hint of reservation, a pair of traitors.
When she reached him, he took her right arm and wrapped it around his, then, as he held her gaze, he pulled her right glove off. He slipped the glove over his belt then took her bare hand in his. He smiled.
Damn. He had so just claimed her.
He led her away from the rest of the group and took her to the edge. He never let go of her hand, but laced his fingers through hers.
He shifted his gaze to the view beyond. She heard a deep murmur of approval as he scanned the beauty rolling for miles and miles to the distant horizon.
She knew the view, every bold, magnificent butte and the layers of peaks unfolding one after the other. This time of day the sun sat low in the west and cast a violet haze over the back-and-forth of the canyon below. It was a primeval land of soaring red, mountainous outcrops, of tall Ponderosa pines climbing the steep canyon walls, of terrain that bore the unique stamp of ancient seas that once covered this part of the world.
The
view never failed to thrust her out of her life and demand more of her. Her heart swelled.
How unexpected to be sharing this with Quint, a stranger who held her hand.
“Everything seems possible up here,” she said.
He looked down at her. She turned to look up at him and smiled. He squeezed her hand. “I love possibilities. My favorite thing.”
A man who loved possibilities.
Inordinate desire and longing swamped her again. The beauty of nature, possibilities, and a mountain lion tore through her spirit and rearranged all her thoughts. He squeezed her hand once more. She wanted to fly, straight into the wind, and ease along the drifts and eddies that traveled Oak Creek Canyon.
Fearing she might be lost forever, she shifted her gaze back to the sunset, which now added a fading orange-violet palette to the canyon.
After a few minutes, Quint turned into her, caught her gaze and asked, “You live in Sedona?”
She nodded. “Not far from Jumpin’ Jeep Tours.”
Oh, God, was she going to do this? Did she even know the rules? Was she risking something she didn’t understand?
“I’ll bet it doesn’t take very long to get back down the mountain.” He smiled. The sun dipped into the horizon and his blue eyes turned slate gray.
She shook her head. “Not long at all.”
“Good.” Again, he squeezed her hand.
Beyond his shoulder, she caught sight of his friend, Brad Hansen. He wore a huge smile and waved at her. “You know, your friend laughs a lot.”
Quint turned and growled. “I’ll take care of him.”
Still holding his hand, she leaned forward and pinched the glove at his belt. When she started to pull, his attention reverted to her like a case of whiplash.
“I need my glove back,” she explained.
He held her gaze. His eyes grew dark with passion. He growled again but this time he meant something else.
She smiled. Okay, she was so doing this.
She drew in yet another ragged breath, released his hand then headed back to the Jeep calling to her tour. She worked her glove back on.
Her group was the last to begin the trek back down into civilization.
The shadows had deepened in the failing light. She turned her headlights on. Quint’s hand found her thigh where it remained even as the Jeep bounced and lurched all the way down the hill.
At long last, she drove into the Jeep bay. She bid farewell to the Japanese tourists, shook hands with Brad, cast one succinct smile in Quint’s direction then hurried to the lobby.
She intended to sketch in the experience for her friend, but Tina had the phone to her ear and a tense frown between her brows. She stared at the computer and held up a finger when Carly started to whisper to her.
She glanced out the window at Quint. He leaned against her Jeep, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he’d staked a claim on the vehicle as well.
Carly glanced at Tina once more, but her office manager now shaded her eyes with her hand. “I told you, mom, three times. Bob and I are staying in Sedona for the Fourth. Give it up already.”
Family squabbles.
Okay then.
Carly caught Tina’s eye, nodded to her, then headed back out to the Jeep bay. She tried not to run, but seeing Quint waiting for her put jets on her feet.
She hopped back into the Jeep and gestured for Quint to do the same. He moved almost as fast as she did.
When he’d buckled up, he asked, “You can take the Jeep home?”
“Sure.” But now it was her turn to laugh. “The owner is like family. She always lets me use her Jeeps.” She laughed again.
“I’ll need my car,” he said. “I left it at The Cowboy Club. Okay if I follow you?”
“Of course.” She pushed her way into the touristy traffic then struggled not to floor it the entire very short distance to the restaurant. He directed her to a black convertible BMW.
His car was gorgeous, sleek, charcoal gray, an expensive piece of quick machinery. The top was up because of the summer heat. He moved like a flash of lightning and slid low into his car. The engine purred to life.
She led the way to her house. Thankfully, she lived only a few blocks from the tour office.
She parked and jumped from the Jeep, but waited for him. He walked straight up to her and took her in his arms, no asking for permission, no discretion regarding the neighbors. But she wasn’t surprised, not even a little.
She melted against him right there on the driveway. He was just as she imagined, muscled and perfect as her hands drifted over his shoulders, down his back and up his arms.
“This is crazy,” she said.
“Yeah, but you feel so good.” He crushed his lips against hers.
She felt dizzy and had a sensation of falling backward. She didn’t get far since he snaked an arm around her waist, but he followed her leaning body and his tongue slid into her mouth. She moaned. Oh, the man could kiss.
He drew back and pulled her upright. She had a difficult time opening her eyes. “Inside?” she asked.
“Yes…and yes,” he groaned.
She caught his meaning and her core tightened with need.
She hurried to the front door, unlocked, then pushed it open. The next few seconds became a whirlwind of stripping off useless shirts. One more second and he had her backed up against the inside of her front door.
He kissed her neck like he owned it. She guessed right now he did.
He ran his finger over the swell of her breast. Lightning-like prickles skated over her skin.
She drew in an uneven breath. “Do you feel that?”
“Electricity,” he whispered against her cheek. “I felt it all the way up to the Rim and back.”
“Yes.” Carly closed her eyes.
Quint’s finger continued to trace a line up her chest. Piercing darts of pleasure flew everywhere, to the tips of her fingers, the bottoms of her feet, the tightening coil within.
“Must be the dry air,” he whispered deep into her ear. “All this electricity.”
Delectable shivers raced down her neck. He sunk his tongue. She moaned. The dip inside reminded her of other places his tongue could go. She leaned against him and clutched at his arms.
“You’re like a mountain lion.”
He left her ear, found her lips then kissed her hard. He drove his tongue into her mouth. After a moment, he said, “Mountain lion, huh?” One of his hands became attached to her breast.
“Yes. You’re one of those men, you know the kind that roam the world and take what they want.”
“Yes.” His fingers feathered her breast causing her nipple to bead up and grow urgent and hungry.
“Oh, you have the best hands. How do you know how to touch me like that?”
“Touch isn’t anything.” He lowered his mouth to her breast and drew a nipple inside. He suckled.
She moaned.
He straightened up to face her. He slid his hands into her hair. “And why do you drive a Jeep? Are you buried in Sedona?”
“My roots go deep.”
“Mine don’t. Just so we understand one another.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him, this time driving her tongue into his mouth. A battle of thrusts ensued. He cupped her buttocks and pressed his hips against her…hard.
“You’re not coming back, are you?” she asked, her lips swollen.
“No.”
“Good. Just so we understand one another.”
“Which way to your bedroom?”
She pointed. He slid one arm around her waist, and with the other dipped down behind her knees and picked her up. When he stood upright, he smiled at her. “Don’t want you to get lost on the way.”
I’m already lost.
“Good planning.”
He took her to the bed and stripped her belt, shoes, socks and pants off. As he shucked his own shirt and pants, she turned around to pull the bedcovers back, bending as she did so. S
he heard him groan and before she could turn and face him again, he tackled her from behind.
“Give a guy a chance,” he whispered over her neck. “You should never bend over wearing a thong, especially not this fragile black-lace thing.” She felt his hands and heard the tear. He tugged the remains of her thong out from under her.
She muffled a laugh, her cheek pressed into the sheets. He pinned her flat onto the bed and it felt so good. He smoothed back her hair and kissed the base of her neck. He unhooked her bra and stripped her of this last remnant of her clothes.
His thick shaft stroked between her cheeks. He drifted his hand up and down her back then slid his fingers under her to tease her mound. He moved lower and caressed her opening. “You’re so wet.”
He worked his fingers inside and stroked her.
“Oh, Quint,” she murmured. She squeezed her eyes shut. All that foreplay up the mountain had taken a toll. She wouldn’t last long. “You’ll make me come like this,” she whimpered.
“I won’t be far behind.” He groaned against her neck. He stroked her faster.
She thought she should encourage him. “Maybe you should find your way inside…like now.”
He didn’t hesitate, not even a split-second. He rose up then lifted her hips until she was on her knees.
He positioned himself and pressed inside in one long dive. Her lungs collapsed. She sucked in as much air as she could, but all she could do was pant. Sliding an arm under her to support her, he drove into her depths. He rocked into her in a deep strong rhythm, groaning.
She lifted her head and cried out. “You feel so good.”
He leaned over her and nipped her shoulders. The hint of pain clenched her muscles. She whimpered again. He continued to bite her in short jabs as he drove into her. “I can’t wait,” she whispered, her voice a hoarse cry.
Her orgasm barreled down, a pack of horses at full gallop. She cried out in brisk intervals, the measure of his quick thrusts. His groans merged with hers. Her internal muscles contracted…hard. Her voice filled the room in a sweet agonized cry that went on and on as pleasure stormed through her.
His thrusts gathered speed. Another orgasm took her into the stratosphere.