STEPHANIE BOND
Just Dare Me…

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Many thanks to my editor, Brenda Chin,

for taking me on more than

one fun outdoor adventure!

And thanks to rugged outdoorsmen and

friends Steve Grantham and Phillip Giese

for giving me tips on various equipment.

Also, thanks to my dad for including me

in his paddling trips while I was growing up,

and for teaching me an appreciation

and respect for the outdoors.

Finally, this story is set in the gorgeous

Amicalola Falls area in the north Georgia

mountains. And although I’ve taken liberties

with the trail names and topography, I highly

recommend the area for hikers of all levels.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Coming Next Month

1

“SO WHO DO YOU think she slept with to get that promotion?”

Gabrielle Flannery tore her gaze away from the striking blonde in the front of the room, for whom the entire department had gathered for a send-off on a Friday afternoon, and frowned at her coworker, Tori. “Courtney has always been nice to me—and to you.”

Tori snorted. “Yeah, because we catered to her like the servants we are.”

Gabrielle shook her head at her friend and strained for a better view of the cake-cutting from where they stood behind a ficus tree in the crowded conference room. “Well, I, for one, am happy that Courtney is moving on to better things,” she said, keeping her voice lowered.

“Yeah,” Tori muttered. “A six-figure salary, a gargantuan expense account, a new company car and a corner office. Score another one for the cool kids, while we dweebs are still batting zero.”

Gabrielle shifted uncomfortably at being included in the dweeb reference. “You’re being unkind, Tori. We each contribute to the bottom line of this firm, we each have our own accounts.” Her pulse picked up a notch as devilishly handsome Dell Kingston stepped up to say a few parting words about Courtney.

“Right,” Tori said behind her hand. “Don’t you think it’s strange that all the high-profile, exciting products like sex-enhancement drugs and European cars go to people like Courtney Rodgers and Dell Kingston, and people like us get stuck with toilet paper and dog food?”

Gabrielle craned for a better view, although admittedly, the rugged profile of Dell Kingston was of more interest than the decorated sheet cake. “They have seniority,” she murmured absently.

Tori scoffed. “Both of them came in two lousy weeks before we did, Gabrielle, and their careers are light years ahead of ours. Look at us,” she said, swatting at a branch. “They’re in the spotlight, and we’re standing in a tree, spectators to their success.”

Gabrielle bit into her lip, watching Courtney and Dell, the Barbie and Ken of Noble Marketing of Atlanta, smiling at each other as if they shared an intimate secret.

“Now that Courtney is leaving, Dell’s going to be a free man,” Tori whispered in Gabrielle’s ear in a singsongy voice.

“Stop it.” But a flush heated Gabrielle’s neck and face—she wished she’d never shared her huge crush on Dell with Tori, and was glad she hadn’t shared the true extent of her feelings for him. As if Dell Kingston would ever be interested in her, except as the butt of a joke. The man teased her mercilessly about her red hair and freckles, often assuming an outrageous Irish accent for good measure.

“May I have your attention, please?” Dell asked, bestowing his trademark grin on the group assembled.

The room grew quiet, and Gabrielle could feel every cell in her body straining toward him. The man was absolutely magnetic, with big, brown eyes that tied her tongue in knots.

He turned toward the beautiful Courtney. “We’re gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses,” he began, then stopped. “No, wait—that’s only in my dreams.”

Everyone groaned, then laughed as Courtney punched him lightly in the arm.

Gabrielle joined in the laughter halfheartedly, but inside, she succumbed to a pang of envy toward Courtney Rodgers—a tall, golden-haired, voluptuous beauty queen with a distinguished Southern pedigree. She’d used all of those assets to achieve her status as a top-notch manager of some of the firm’s most prestigious accounts and parlayed them into a promotion to the New York office.

Although it was hard to fault the woman. Courtney put in long hours at Noble.

Then Gabrielle sighed inwardly—but not as many hours as she and Tori had put in.

“Seriously,” Dell continued, comfortable at the center of attention, “we’re all going to miss Courtney and we wish her only the best in her new adventure. Oh, and just so everyone knows—I have dibs on the CEG account.”

Everyone laughed at Dell’s good-natured arrogance.

“That account should be yours,” Tori whispered.

The CEG account—Cutting Edge Gear, a hot outdoor equipment account with an even hotter celebrity spokesman. The highlight of Gabrielle’s career had been acting as Courtney’s unofficial assistant on the account, hoping that someday she’d get to meet Nick Ocean, the movie-star spokesman. With Courtney leaving, Gabrielle had secretly entertained fantasies of their boss, Bruce Noble, offering her the account…but, of course, Dell would get it.

Dell said a few final words about Courtney and everyone applauded.

Courtney, who wasn’t just leaving for a new job, but embarking on a new adventure, Gabrielle mused. For some people, every move they made seemed more exciting, more exotic than that of the average person.

The average dweeb.

Dell gave Courtney a hug, leaving his arm slung around her shoulders. Gabrielle leaned forward, wondering how people reached that magical place where the world seemed to fall at their feet. She wished she was fearless, exuded charm, had the nerve to go after what she wanted. How lucky the woman was to orbit in Dell’s galaxy…to have him touching her…

Suddenly the potted tree in front of Gabrielle moved. No, she realized with horrific clarity—she was falling! Hugging the tree, she and the ficus both pitched forward and landed hard on the floor, soil spilling up her long skirt. Gasps sounded all around her, then laughter traveled around the room. Gabrielle rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, praying that everyone would ignore her—as usual—and that the festivities would continue.

“Gabrielle, for heaven’s sake, your skirt is up to your shoulders,” Tori hissed. “Mr. Noble is staring at you. Get up!”

The laughter gained momentum, although it sounded as if people were trying to muffle it with their hands. She lay there, eyes closed, limbs unresponsive, willing a blood clot to take her.

“Are you trying to upstage me?” a low voice murmured.

Gabrielle’s eyes opened to see Dell Kingston leaning over her, his rich, chocolate-brown eyes full of mirth.

“No,” she croaked.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Nothing to see here, folks,” he said in a fake authoritative voice. “Move it along to the cake table, please.”

Gabrielle’s face flamed in humiliation as people filed past them. Mr. Noble squinted at her as if trying to recall her name. She brushed soil from her tan-colored tweed jacket. Her long matching skirt had fared worse, bearing dark, wet smears. Contrasted with the bright blue silk suit that Courtney wore, her own scratchy suit seemed worse than frumpy, and completely inappropriate for the summer heat.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dell said, a smile curling his gorgeous mouth.

She nodded, mortified to have created such a spectacle. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said with a laugh, then leaned in and murmured, “That’s a nice pair of legs you’ve been hiding, Gabby.”

Her mouth tightened—she hated that nickname. But a little thrill bolted through her at his compliment.

“Dell,” Courtney called, “I need some help over here.”

“Coming,” he said, then he reached forward and touched his finger to the tip of Gabrielle’s nose, coming away with a smudge of dirt. “Watch out for those attack trees.”

Her throat convulsed at his close proximity. His features were strong and masculine, his short, dark hair sexily rumpled. His teeth were white against his bronze skin. His spicy cologne teased her nose. She couldn’t have spoken if she tried.

So instead, she turned and fled for the exit.

DELL KINGSTON quirked a smile as he watched the slender redhead escape from the room—the woman was certainly good at disappearing. And she was a bit of a klutz, he thought wryly, remembering the times he’d rescued her from an overflowing coffeepot, a copier machine that had gone on the offense and an avalanche of binders in the supply room. He righted the unfortunate tree, leaving mounds of dirt on the carpet.

He enjoyed teasing Gabby Flannery because she was so quick to blush, and didn’t lash back like most of the women in the department. It was obvious that she was crushing on him, and he smiled at the thought of little Gabby lying awake at night fantasizing about him.

It was sweet, really.

Although there was nothing sweet about the expanse of killer legs her tumble had exposed, or his gut-clenching reaction. He wondered idly what other secrets the flame-haired wallflower was hiding beneath those Puritan suits she wore, and just how daring the woman might be…in the right hands.

“Dell,” Courtney sang, her voice lilting higher.

“Coming,” he repeated, forcing his mind back to the happy occasion of Courtney’s departure.

They’d passed some good times between the sheets, but otherwise he and the buxom blonde were woefully incompatible. Her leaving was a win-win situation—she was moving up to the company’s Manhattan office, and he would have the coveted CEG account. With Courtney gone, no one else stood in his way. Gabby certainly didn’t present a threat—with the encouragement of a well-placed wink or two, she’d pass along everything she’d learned about CEG from working on the fringes of the account…and perhaps would fall into the role of his unofficial assistant.

Then his mind flashed back to the image of Gabby Flannery lying on the floor, her long, lean legs parted, and he pushed his tongue into his cheek. With Courtney gone, he’d also need to find a new…pastime.

And suddenly the idea of a blushing, tongue-tied, useful redhead in his bed was tremendously appealing.

2

GABRIELLE JOGGED to her cubicle, furious with herself for creating a scene that would make her the laughingstock of the office, yet again.

Tori was right—she was a dweeb.

“Hey, Gabrielle,” her friend called behind her. “Wait up!”

But Gabrielle marched into her cube, and grabbed her briefcase and purse. If she left now, she wouldn’t have to stand on the elevator with her coworkers.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Tori said, then she lost the battle and a burst of laughter filtered through her fingers. “Okay, that was hilarious, stealing Courtney’s thunder.”

Gabrielle expelled a frustrated sigh. “Tori, I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“That’s not the way I’m going to tell it,” Tori said with a grin.

Gabrielle swung her purse strap to her shoulder. “I’m going home.”

“But it’s Friday,” Tori pouted. “We’re supposed to volunteer usher at the Fox Theater.”

Them and every senior citizen in midtown—God, this was her social life. “Not tonight. I’ll call you sometime this weekend.”

Tori clasped her arm. “Are you okay? I mean, it’s not like you haven’t made a fool out of yourself before—” Then she stopped, her eyes wide. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

Gabrielle blinked back moisture and looked down at her stained, outdated suit, replaying the mortifying incident in the conference room and, worse, her stuttering and sputtering around Dell, who always made her feel inept and unattractive. A few months from turning thirty, and in the face of pressure, she regressed to the gawky teenager who had been the punch line of every joke in high school. Lying on the floor with potting soil up her skirt and all her coworkers laughing, she had seen her career pass before her eyes. She would never be in the league of Dell Kingston or Courtney Rodgers. Once a dweeb, always a dweeb.

“Have fun at the Fox, Tori.”

She headed toward the elevator, her shoulders hunched, her hands in her pockets.

“Gabrielle!” Tori called behind her. “Don’t be like that!”

She stared straight ahead as she rode down in the elevator, then walked outside into the summer heat shimmering off the sidewalks in downtown Atlanta. But her friend’s words looped in her head as she waited at the Marta stop for the bus that would take her to the station a few blocks from her cramped midtown apartment. Don’t be like that…don’t dream big…don’t be offended when people overlook you…underestimate you…ignore you.

In the muggy July temperatures, she was miserable in her dirty, wooly suit. When the bus lurched to a halt, she climbed on with other work-weary passengers. Predictably, within a few minutes, the bus was trapped in Friday gridlock traffic.

The traffic, she thought wryly, was symbolic of her career—at a complete standstill.

She loved the field of work she’d chosen, and believed that Noble was one of the industry’s best firms, but she’d had higher hopes for her career. Noble had always been a firm she could see herself retiring from…but she had horrible visions of herself thirty years from now, still a junior account exec, still standing behind the plants at staff gatherings.

As the relatively short drive extended longer and longer, she looked for something to take her mind off the troublesome thoughts about herself. On the seat next to her lay a copy of U.S. Weekly Review. She picked it up and leafed through the bent pages, stopping on an article titled Adrenaline Rush—Change Your Mind, Change Your Life. Intrigued, she started reading the article that asserted most people encountered some sort of plateau in their life, and the only way to get things moving was to harness the mind’s energy and take a risk.

In your mind’s eye, picture what it is that you want, then ask yourself, if you go for it, what’s the worst thing that could happen? You can recover from anything short of death, and if you fail, you probably won’t be worse off. But if you rally your talents and your inner strength, chances are you won’t fail; in fact, you are likely to succeed beyond your wildest dreams.

Gabrielle sat up straighter in her seat, her chest suffused with the strange, prickly feeling that the magazine article was written especially for her. Change your mind, change your life, take a risk.

When was the last time she’d experienced an adrenaline rush? In the evenings, she either worked late or brought work home, which had ceased to be exciting years ago. On weekends she did her volunteer stint at the Fox Theater, which required wearing a red-and-black outfit and showing people to their seats in exchange for sitting in an empty seat or on the stairs to watch the shows for free. She hadn’t dated since…a long time ago. The only special people in her life were Tori, who could be a bit of a downer, and McGee, who wasn’t even a person, but her pet bulldog.

She sighed, conceding that the only adrenal activity she’d experienced lately was when she passed Dell Kingston in the hallway, or the times he had saved her from some bumbling mess she’d gotten herself into.

God, how pathetic that the most exciting thing in her life was a reaction to someone else—someone who barely acknowledged her existence. Other women her age, like Courtney, were creating excitement in their lives by proactively stepping out of their comfort zone and trying something new.

It was time she took control of her life, she decided, lifting her chin.

Then she bit into her lip—but how?

She scanned the article again. In your mind’s eye, picture what it is that you want, then ask yourself, if you go for it, what’s the worst thing that could happen?

What did she want? she asked herself. What would make her happy? To be noticed…to be recognized…to be given the opportunity to showcase her brains and her talents…

She wanted the CEG account.

The bus stopped and the doors opened at the midtown station. Gabrielle stuffed the magazine in her bag and disembarked, her mind clicking. “I want the CEG account,” she said aloud, testing the words on her tongue.

But you heard Dell…he has designs on the CEG account…of course Bruce Noble will give it to him, her subconscious whispered. It was crazy to think that the boss would hand over one of the firm’s most lucrative accounts to her, especially after witnessing her spectacle today.

On the other hand, with Courtney leaving, she was the person who was most acquainted with CEG and its products—she had worked with the product engineers to understand the specs of each piece of outdoor equipment and helped to create brochures to highlight the premium features that CEG wanted to stress to consumers.

She climbed the stairs to her fourth-floor one-bedroom apartment. Hadn’t she walked up and down these very stairs for hours to test CEG hiking boots so she could better understand how they functioned?

She unlocked the door to her apartment, smiling and crouching down to hug McGee and rub his little, flat face. After promising him a walk as soon as she changed, she glanced around her crowded apartment with a frown.

And hadn’t she dedicated much of her and McGee’s living space to CEG products—tents, backpacks, rappelling equipment and camping gear?

With McGee at her heels, she raised her hands and grabbed onto a metal T-bar, then lifted her feet to ride a cabled zip line down the hall—another CEG product—to her bedroom. She put her feet down and set her purse and briefcase on the end of the cluttered bed, unused for the past three months because she’d been testing the comfort of a CEG tent pitched in the living room.

A sigh escaped her as she glanced at the clothes piled on the bed. And hadn’t she given up most of her closet space to CEG workout clothes and running gear?

She didn’t spend the weekends defying death, like Dell Kingston was purported to have done with his rock climbing and acrobatic rappelling and triathlons. But she’d analyzed the products, studied the specs and knew the limitations. She’d bet that she knew at least as much about CEG products as Dell did.

“I want the CEG account,” she repeated, this time with more force.

McGee barked his enthusiastic agreement.

She slowly undressed, peeling her sticky blouse from her body, and bypassed her dry cleaner’s bag in favor of the trash can for her soiled, dated suit. She pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, using her hand to smooth down the loose bits of hair that stuck up from her French braid. Good grief, the stuff was like an unruly scouring pad.

If you go for it, what’s the worst thing that could happen?

She’d be humiliated and have to slink back to her cubicle and be satisfied with her feminine hygiene and hemorrhoid cream accounts. Although, would it really be any more humiliating to be turned down by Bruce Noble than wrestling with a tree in front of the entire department—and losing?

No, she decided. But would she be able to talk to Bruce Noble without lapsing into a babbling fool? She glanced at the discarded suit, which McGee was sniffing suspiciously. And if she were going to step into Courtney’s shoes, she had to step up her wardrobe a notch. Or three.

Gabrielle reached into the back of her closet and removed a pale green suit that her mother had given her for her birthday. Fiona Flannery was a flamboyant redhead who was always pushing her daughter to play up her unusual coloring, frequently sending makeup and beauty products and clothes that Gabrielle hadn’t had the nerve to use or wear.

She held the suit in front of her and stared at her reflection in the closet door mirror. The fabric was soft and clingy, the color set off her green eyes. The jacket was fitted and flirty, the skirt was short—well above the knee.

Remembering Dell’s comment about her long, albino legs, her cheeks warmed. He’d only been teasing her, of course, trying to get a rise out of her. But it was fun to think that maybe the flash in his decadent eyes had been a tiny bit of male appreciation.

Then she smirked at her reflection. If Dell got wind of her vying for the CEG account, would he feel threatened…or would he laugh?

What’s the worst that can happen?

She could always go back to being invisible.

She put a leash on McGee and pulled the magazine out of her bag to take on their walk. McGee was the dearest dog ever created, but he moved his squatty little self like a sleepy snail—a turn around the block gave her plenty of time to reread the “Adrenaline Rush” article for tips on how to begin working toward her goal.

To prepare for an uncomfortable situation, visualize the scene, how you want it to unfold, how you will respond to resistance. Write a script, and practice what you’ll say until you can speak with authority.

Visualize…practice…

She closed her eyes and with great effort, banished the vision of her walking into Bruce Noble’s office Monday morning, her knees quaking, her voice leaving her. Instead, she visualized walking into his office Monday morning, declining his offer to sit, calling him “Bruce,” and telling him that she wanted—no, that she deserved—the CEG account.

But each time she visualized Bruce’s face, he looked incredulous, skeptical and stupefied at her request.

But when she returned to her apartment, now carrying McGee because he couldn’t maneuver the stairs, an idea popped into her head. She rifled through her briefcase, and pulled out the company’s full-color annual report. Inside was a picture of Bruce Noble, his face nearly life-size…and smiling. She tore out the photo and pasted it onto a piece of cardboard, then cut along the outline of his face. Then she fastened the cardboard face to the front of a ball cap.

“McGee, come here, sweetie.”

He lumbered over and stood patiently while she settled the cap onto his meaty head.

“Perfect,” she said, then stepped back to stare at Bruce Noble’s smiling face. “Mr. Noble, I want the CEG account.”

McGee barked, his jowls bouncing, not unlike her boss’s.

“Why?” She picked up the green suit and held it against her. “Because I’ve assisted on the account for two years—I know the products, I wrote most of the literature, and…”

McGee barked, as if prompting her.

She pulled the clasp from her braid and ran her fingers through her long hair, releasing it into all its furious glory. “And I deserve this chance…Bruce. I’ve given this firm six years of my life, and I’m good at my job. Just as good at Dell Kingston. And I’m tired of being overlooked…by everyone.”

The memory of Dell’s mocking smile as he’d pulled her to her feet flooded her with stinging humiliation all over again. He’d teased her, dismissed her, just like the others.

But Monday morning, she thought determinedly, she would be noticed…for all the right reasons.

3

DELL PRESSED the elevator button and drank deeply from his large cup of coffee, trying to wake up. He’d gone mountain biking yesterday morning in the summer heat, then spent the afternoon rock climbing. It had seemed worthwhile—even enjoyable—at the time, but this morning his ass was dragging and his joints moaning.

He nodded to the security guard, the only other person in the lobby at this early hour. But Bruce Noble was always in his office before most people were out of bed, and Dell had decided to use the opportunity to formally request the CEG account. Formally because it was a near certainty that he would get it—he was a senior account executive with an impeccable track record. And CEG was a perfect fit for him because he spent most of his free time outdoors pushing his body to new limits.

Plus, stuffing his resume with A-list accounts was the shortest route to success.

Success meant early retirement.

Early retirement meant having the time to do the things he enjoyed most.

Ergo, CEG was an important brick in his career path.

Still, he didn’t want to appear presumptuous. It was best to follow protocol and plead his case to Noble so that there would be no misunderstandings.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside. Behind him he heard the click of high heels on the tile floor, a sound that always spiked his pulse.

“Hold the elevator,” a female voice called.

He pressed the open button, then looked up to see a tall, leggy woman stride across the lobby like a beautiful colt, her slender figure clad in a trendy green suit, her long legs extended farther by a pair of those high-heeled, pointy-toed shoes that made his cock jump. God, he loved those on women.

She walked into the car and murmured, “Thank you.”

He took a deep drink from his cup to cover his frank perusal of the beauty next to him. Her hair was the color of a red maple tree in full fall flame—spectacular.

Damn, what was it about redheads lately that had him so worked up?

Actually, except for the fact that this woman was polished to a professional shine, her makeup glamorous, her posture self-assured, she reminded him a little of…

He inhaled a mouthful of scalding coffee and sputtered like a car engine. “Gabby?” he gasped.

She turned to him, eyebrows arched over the most gorgeous green eyes he’d ever seen. “Yes?”

He blinked. Wait a minute—he had seen those eyes before, only…were her lashes always so long, her mouth always so wide and inviting? “You look…wow,” he said, stumbling over his words.

The blush that pinked her cheeks was the first sign of the old Gabby. “Were you planning to push the button for our floor?”

Feeling like an idiot, he stabbed at it three times before it lit up.

“Did you have a nice weekend?” he asked, still reeling.

“Yes, thank you,” she responded, tucking a long lock of hair behind a delicate ear.

As they climbed, he tried not to stare, but couldn’t drag his gaze away from her profile. The transformation from ugly duckling to siren swan was just short of miraculous.

Desire swelled in his midsection and suddenly, the prospect of Gabby assisting him on the CEG account held even more promise. And she must be entertaining similar thoughts of a collaboration, he reasoned with smug satisfaction, or else why would she be dressed like that?

The elevator doors opened and she walked out in front of him.

“Um, Gabby,” he said.

She turned back. “Yes?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the CEG account.”

“What about it?”

He pulled out his most charming smile. “Well, I’m going to need some…help. And I know that Courtney found you indispensable.”

The tightening of her mouth told him that Courtney had not been that forthcoming with her about her value.

“I was hoping you’d be willing to share your expertise with me, now that I’ll be taking over the account.”

Her eyes clouded slightly. “Has Mr. Noble officially assigned the CEG account to you?”

“No…not officially,” he felt obligated to say. “Actually, that’s why I came in early, to talk to him about it.”

A small smile curved her mouth. “What a coincidence.” Then she turned and walked away from him.

Dell stood there nodding, too distracted by the swing of her shapely backside to fully comprehend her words. Then he blinked—what had she said? Something about a coincidence?

His eyes widened. Surely she didn’t mean…He scoffed—she couldn’t possibly think…

Alarm blipped through his chest when he realized that Gabby hadn’t gone in the direction of her cubicle, but in the direction of Bruce Noble’s office!

GABRIELLE STOPPED at the closed door of Bruce’s office, inhaled deeply and knocked. She was feeling more than a little off-kilter from her encounter with Dell, but she had to focus on her goal.

“Come in,” Bruce called.

She drew on the strength of a weekend of rehearsing with an amiable Bruce Noble cutout that followed her around the apartment and smiled at her across the kitchen table, while she picked at her microwave entrees and McGee munched the kibble in his doggie dish. She could do this. With a deep inhale, she opened the door and walked in.

“Good morning, Bruce.”

Her boss squinted at her, then his eyes flew open. “Ms. Flannery?”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Er, no…what can I do for you?”

She looked at his smiling face and as she’d practiced a thousand times said, “Bruce, I want the CEG account.”

She braced for his reaction—confusion, derision, belly laughter. Instead, Bruce removed his glasses and set them aside. “The CEG account. Well, I have to admit, Gabrielle, this is a surprise…but a welcome one.”

A short rap on the door sounded, followed by Dell Kingston walking in. “Good morning, Bruce.”

Gabrielle set her jaw at the intrusion.

“Morning, Dell. Ms. Flannery and I were just talking about the CEG account.”

She caught the flash of panic in Dell’s eyes before it was replaced by cool confidence. “Oh, good. Because I was thinking that Gabby should be given the official title of assistant on the account.”

Bruce pursed his mouth. “You do?”

“Absolutely,” Dell said magnanimously.

“Gabrielle thinks that she should be given full responsibility of CEG.”

Dell emitted a good-natured laugh that stiffened her spine. “No offense, but I don’t think that Gabby’s ready to take on a client as high-maintenance as CEG.”

“You mean as important?” Gabrielle said, crossing her arms.

Dell conceded with a nod, splaying his hands wide.

Under Dell’s penetrating gaze, a hot flush began climbing her neck. For a few seconds, her mind whirled in desperation as the familiar speechlessness threatened to overtake her. With great effort, she dragged her gaze away from Dell’s and back to the smiling face that had watched television with her and chased a tennis ball around the apartment.

“I’ve devoted six years to this firm,” she said, her voice steady. “I’ve worked with some of the most obscure, unusual and difficult products in our lineup, and the clients have always been pleased.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, and it was all she could do not to pet his head.

“I want this account,” she added, lifting her chin. “I know the products inside and out. I designed the advertising literature and wrote most of the copy. I suggested and managed the overhaul of the online store.”

Dell scoffed. “Desk work is one thing, Bruce, but you know the people at CEG—they’re outdoorsmen, and so am I. When I’m not here, I’m mountain biking, hiking, climbing, rappelling, you name it. I live this stuff.”

Bruce looked to Gabrielle, seemingly waiting for more ammunition.

She swallowed hard. “I’ve worn out the stairs in my apartment building, personally testing CEG backpacks and hiking boots. And for the past three months I’ve slept in one of their tents pitched in the living room of my apartment.”

Both sets of male eyebrows shot up at her pronouncement, then Bruce’s phone rang. He glanced at the console. “Excuse me for a minute, I need to take this call.”

Gabrielle turned and reached for the door, but Dell beat her there and held it open for her. She glared at him, then walked through. Out in the hall, the tension between them was palpable. She tried to tamp down her nervousness, telling herself that she had presented her case well. Bruce hadn’t laughed at her, hadn’t dismissed her, hadn’t reminded her that last week he and everyone else had seen her tighty-whitey underwear.

Then Dell’s soft laugh caught her attention. He looked conciliatory. “Gabby, come on, you don’t really expect Bruce to give you CEG. Why don’t you just stick to the feminine hygiene products and leave CEG to someone who can handle it?”

In that instant, her heart shriveled. She realized that all the times Dell had been flirtatiously teasing her, inside he’d been laughing at her clumsiness and labeling her as incompetent. He truly didn’t think she was capable of competing on his level. If he knew how she’d fallen for him over those fleeting shared moments, he’d have an even bigger laugh at her expense.

She felt like a fool. Her wounded pride threatened to disable her, but she hardened her jaw and spoke through clenched teeth. “My name is Gabrielle. And no matter what Bruce decides, please don’t patronize me, Dell.”

Something unrecognizable flared in his eyes—hostility? Resentment?

Bruce’s door suddenly swung open and he beckoned them both inside. Gabrielle preceded Dell, her body stiff, and wondered if she’d be able to back up the statements rolling out of her mouth, which seemed to have a mind of its own this morning.

That darn magazine article had blown her up with false bravado. If Bruce gave the account to Dell and asked her to assist, she’d be stuck working with Dell under rather tense circumstances.

Bruce Noble leaned against the front of his desk, his arms folded. “I just got off the phone with Eddie Fosser at CEG. He also wants to know who’ll be taking over the account. I told him my dilemma.” He gestured toward Dell. “On one hand I have a senior account executive who would fit nicely into the CEG corporate environment.”

Dell smiled, and Gabrielle seethed. “Fit in,” meaning a testosterone-laden male.

Then Bruce gestured to her. “On the other hand I have a junior account executive who is familiar with the client’s products and might have been, er—” he coughed “—inadvertently overlooked for past opportunities.”

Gabrielle smiled—maybe Bruce was going to do the right thing after all.

“So Eddie and I were talking, and he suggested something that might give you both a chance to prove yourselves.”

She and Dell exchanged a puzzled glance, and she felt some measure of relief that apparently he didn’t know what their boss had in mind.

“CEG is sponsoring a wilderness survival trip this weekend in the Georgia mountains with their celebrity spokesman. Eddie will be there with some other CEG execs, and a couple of their big customers. It’s a good-natured competition to showcase their products, with each player accumulating points. Eddie suggested that both of you attend and…whichever one of you scores the highest will get the account.”

A vacuum of silence pulled at her ears.

“This is based on athletic ability?” Dell asked, shooting an amused smile in her direction.

“Well, certainly athleticism will help,” Bruce said, “but it’s more like a test of wills…and logic. And it’ll give you a chance to interact with Eddie and his people.” Bruce clapped his hands together. “I think it’s a great idea. It’s on the Amicalola Falls State Park property. You’d leave Thursday and return Monday. What do you say?”

Gabrielle felt like an animal trapped in a searchlight…in a tree…having sex…upside down. Compete with Dell in a wilderness survival weekend? There must be thousands of ways for him to humiliate her in the woods.

“I think it’s a great idea, too,” Dell said, then turned to Gabrielle, his eyes alight with predetermined victory, his mouth barely able to contain a grin. “But if you’re not up to it, Gabrielle, then just say so and we’ll go back to the original arrangement—I’ll take the lead on the account, and you’ll be my assistant.”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing over the advice in the “Adrenaline Rush” article.

Then Dell lowered his head and leaned slightly toward her. “Come on, Gabby,” he whispered in a taunting voice for her ears only. “I dare you.”

At his challenging words, an unfamiliar strength swelled in her chest—at least she hoped it was strength, and not a reaction to the fact that for the first time, Dell would have to deal with her as a rival, a competitor, a peer.

The article had described moments like this—when a person’s life choices, past and future, seemed to converge into one decision that had to be made on gut instinct and self-trust.

She looked Dell Kingston square in his dreamy eyes and, after almost faltering under the sheer impact of his sexy gaze, she found her voice. “You’re on.”

A cocky grin split his face and he extended his hand to her. “Then may the best man—or woman—win.”

She stared at his large hand before clasping it with her own, unprepared for the shock of his warm fingers swallowing hers. His gaze raked her up and down, taking in every inch of the exterior she’d carefully constructed over the weekend—a facade of confidence that shook precariously when Dell looked at her that way…the way a man looked at a woman.

On a challenge bolstered by a silly dare, she’d agreed to spend four days in the woods with this man.

And four nights.

And something in his never-ending eyes told her that with all the dangers in the wild, Dell Kingston himself posed the biggest threat to her well-being…and to her state of mind.

4

“I STILL THINK you’ve lost your freaking mind,” Tori said, her eyes bleary, her sleep-mussed hair sticking up at all angles. “First you go through some Stepford executive makeover, and now you’re heading off to the mountains with…that man.”

“We’ve been over this,” Gabrielle said, handing over McGee, who squirmed in Tori’s unfamiliar arms. “I have to do this to get the CEG account.”

“I don’t know why that stupid account is so important to you.”

Detecting a note of abandonment in her friend’s voice, she laid a hand on her arm. “Tori, you were the one who pointed out the inequity of the account assignments. I’m only fighting for what I deserve.”

But instead of cheering up, Tori only looked more morose. “I’ve seen documentaries on these wilderness survival trips—they lure you in with romantic notions of sitting around the campfire, and the next thing you know, you’re running for your life, being hunted by some guy with a crossbow.”

Gabrielle squinted. “You watch way too much television. And I assure you, there were no romantic promises. I’m expecting the worst—eating bugs, dangling from cliffs—”

“Sharing a tent with Dell Kingston.”

Gabrielle blinked. “What? Now who’s lost their mind?”

“That’s what everyone in the office is saying,” Tori said, her voice tinged with a gossipy tone. “That Dell is going to get the CEG account and get into your pants.”

Anger flared in her chest. “Well, they’re wrong, and you can tell them so.”

“Just be careful,” Tori said earnestly. “I know how you feel about Dell—”

“I don’t—”

“I know how you feel about Dell, and I just don’t want you to do something that you’ll regret.”

Gabrielle inhaled a calming breath, trying not to let her friend’s comments make her any more nervous about the long drive into the mountains with Dell that stretched ahead of her. She’d never missed having a car before today. She closed her eyes against the image of his dancing brown eyes. Come on, Gabby. I dare you.

“Trust me,” she said forcefully, for her benefit and for Tori’s, “Dell Kingston has nothing on his mind for this weekend except scoring higher than me on the competition.”

“I’d say you’re right about one thing,” Tori said dryly. “His mind is on scoring, all right.”

Gabrielle massaged her temples—this she did not need. “Are you sure you don’t mind taking care of McGee?”

“We’ll be fine until you get back. Hey, have you ever noticed that McGee looks a little like Mr. Noble?”

“You think?” Gabrielle said, backing down the stairs and shoving on her sunglasses. “I’ll call you if my cell phone works in the mountains.”

“Good luck,” Tori yelled. “Get Nick Ocean’s autograph for me. And keep your tent flap closed!”

DELL CHECKED his watch, then glanced at the front of the Marta station for the hundredth time. Had he missed her? Considering the color of her hair, he didn’t think that was possible.

And considering her flair for misadventure, she might be lying at the bottom of a set of stairs somewhere, or hanging from a flag pole. The pale slip of a woman would be lucky to make it through the weekend without breaking her lovely neck. Still, he shook his head, smiling at Bruce’s genius. The man couldn’t flat-out deny Gabby’s request for the account without Human Resources climbing all over him. A competition was the perfect way to give Dell the account without making it look so obvious.

And Gabby had nearly conceded on the spot—he’d seen it in her eyes. He still wasn’t sure what had driven him to dare her to accept the challenge. Something about the woman had always piqued his interest, even before her transformation. Gabby had this air of aloof independence that made him want to rankle her. Her pluckiness intrigued him. He could have walked out of Bruce’s office with CEG in his pocket. But this way, he told himself, she’d feel as if she’d given it her best shot, and would be more willing to assist on the account. And it would give her a chance to warm up to him.

There was only one problem—

A flash of red caught his attention and sure enough, it was Gabby, dressed in loose cargo pants and a white T-shirt, her blazing hair pulled back into a long, thick ponytail. She struggled to stand upright with the large backpack strapped to her slender body. God, she looked so young and vulnerable and…sexy.

The problem that had been gnawing at him all week hit him full force, causing him to shift in his seat. Little Gabby Flannery had always been a curiosity to him, but over the past few days in the office, every glimpse of her in her new slim suits and short skirts, with her hair flowing wild around her shoulders, had him setting his jaw against an unexpected surge of lust.

How he was going to keep his hands to himself during four days of close contact with her in the great outdoors while trying to make sure she didn’t kill herself, he didn’t know.

He climbed out of his SUV and waved. She smiled and lifted her hand, but the movement threw her off balance and sent her stumbling backward to sit down hard on the sidewalk.

He rolled his eyes and hurried across the street to help her. “Are you okay?”

She looked up and nodded, fumbling with the straps of the backpack across her chest.

“Let me,” he said, then unfastened the straps, willing himself to ignore the incidental contact with her full breasts.

This was not a promising start.

When she was free, he helped her to her feet and picked up her pack, wincing at its weight. “Christ, do you have a body in here?”

“No,” she murmured. “Just trying to cover all the bases.”

“Let me guess—high heels and makeup?”

She frowned. “No.”

He winked, then headed toward his SUV. “You’re late, we need to get on the road.”

“Sorry. I had to drop my dog off at Tori’s, and the trains were delayed.”

“Do you have one of those Tinkerbell dogs?”

She gave a little laugh that he liked the sound of. “McGee is a bulldog, and I don’t think he’d take kindly to being called a Tinkerbell.”

“Nice name,” he said grudgingly, surprised that she would own such a substantial canine. He’d always wanted a dog himself, but his hectic travel schedule had always prevented him from owning one…at least that was his excuse, he acknowledged wryly.

He loaded her backpack into the rear of his vehicle, next to his own pack, which was half the size and weight. He’d been camping and hiking enough to know that most people packed too much gear. “So your friend, Tori…she’s a little gloomy.”

“She doesn’t like you, either,” Gabrielle said, climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door with a bang.

He frowned, then swung up into his own seat. “I didn’t say I didn’t like her.”

“It’s okay,” Gabrielle said matter-of-factly. “We’re used to it.”

“Used to what?”

“Used to being ignored by the senior account execs.”

He sputtered. “We don’t ignore the junior account managers.”

“Really? What’s the name of the guy who sits in the cube next to mine?”

“The new guy?”

“He’s worked there for five years.”

“Oh…right.” Dell tried to conjure up the man’s face in his mind. “Mike something?”

“Close—Oscar. Oscar White. Nice guys with two kids, puts in about seventy hours a week at the office.”

“Oh. Well, I guess our paths haven’t crossed that much.”

Her mouth flattened, and she remained infuriatingly quiet.

He started the engine and tried another tack as he pulled away from the curb. “So do you live around here?”

“No, I was coming from my friend’s place. I live in Midtown.”

“Really? So do I.”

“I know. I’ve seen you at my grocery Sunday mornings.”

“Why haven’t you ever said hello?”

“You were always with a woman. Sometimes Courtney, sometimes…not.”

He squirmed and inexplicably, he thought of Gabby waking up in his bed on Sunday morning and them running to the store for a newspaper and a carton of juice. The image very nearly made him miss the ramp to the interstate that would take them north toward the Georgia Mountains.

“I’ve seen you at the Fox Theater, too,” she said.

“Oh? Do you moonlight at the Fox?”

“I’m a volunteer usher.”

“Really? I thought only old people did that.” He winced as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Old people and me,” she said cheerfully.

How did she do that—keep him off balance, make him feel as if he were a snob? “I guess that’s a great way to see all the shows.”

She nodded and turned to look out the window. He hadn’t given much thought to her salary, but he vaguely remembered being on a tight budget back when he’d been a junior account manager. There had been no money for theater tickets.

“How old are you, Gabby?”

After a few minutes of silence, she said, “I really wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

He gave a little laugh. “I think it’s cute.”

“I don’t want to be cute,” she said stiffly. “I want to be taken seriously. You think I don’t know what everyone is saying?”

“What is everyone saying?”

“That this competition is a joke, that there’s no way I can beat a superjock like you on a wilderness survival course.”

He weighed his words, especially since he might have inadvertently fueled a few of those sentiments going round the office. “Apparently Bruce feels differently.” His conscience plucked at him, though, for giving her false hope that she could actually beat him. After all, the woman had nearly been done in with her backpack.

She fell silent again, watching the passing scenery on Georgia 400 until they were north of the city. Dell couldn’t remember a time when he’d actually wanted a woman to talk.

“Where are you from?” he asked finally.

“I grew up in a small town outside Chattanooga.”

A small-town girl—not surprising. “Sounds nice. Are your parents still there?”

She nodded.

When no other information seemed forthcoming, he offered, “I grew up in D.C.”

“I know. I helped to put together the bios for the senior account execs for the annual report. Your parents work for the Pentagon and you have an MBA from Emory.”

What his bio didn’t say was that his parents were bitterly disappointed that he hadn’t gone into law or politics, that marketing had been a compromise of his skills and their expectations. Still, she knew more about him than he knew about her. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him, but for some reason, he felt compelled to know what made this woman tick, why she was so spirited in spite of her social clumsiness.

After knocking over that tree in the conference room and sprawling in the floor, most people would have been too embarrassed to show their face again, much less have the balls to march into Bruce’s office and ask for an A-list account.

“I think it’s about a two-hour drive to Amicalola Falls,” he said.

“More like three, actually.” She pulled a sheaf of papers from one of the pockets in her cargo pants. “I’m a bit directionally impaired, but I read the information that Bruce gave us very carefully.”

Of course she had. “Then maybe you can tell me what we’re in for.”

“The instructions aren’t that specific, just that we should bring a stocked backpack, study the weather forecast and be prepared for anything.”

Weather forecast. He looked toward the sky. Hmm, maybe he should have read those papers after all.

“A guide will meet us at the site and give us more instructions from there.” She ran her finger down one of the sheets. “Says here there’ll be ten of us.”

He frowned. Not enough bodies to keep them from bumping into each other.

She pivoted her head. “Do you know Nick Ocean?”

Oh, brother—he knew that look. He’d seen it in Courtney’s eyes when she talked about the movie star. “I’ve met him a couple of times at trade shows.”

“What’s he like? He seems so macho onscreen.”

Dell shrugged and shifted in his seat. “I guess.”

“Tori wants me to get his autograph.”

“Just be careful around him. I’ve heard that he likes to hit on young women.”

“That’s funny,” she murmured, looking back to the papers. “I’ve heard the same thing about you.”

He frowned and only the ringing of his cell phone in its mounted cradle kept him from defending himself. In deference to the ban on holding a cell phone while driving, he hit the hands-free speaker button on the visor. “This is Dell.”

“Hey, gorgeous, it’s Courtney.”

He glanced sideways at Gabby. She didn’t act as if she were listening, but he wished he’d remembered to bring the headset for his phone. “Hi. This is a surprise.”

“I just called to wish you luck on your wilderness weekend—wink, wink.” She laughed gaily.

He shifted in his seat. “Uh, thanks. We’re on our way up there now.”

“We?”

“Gabby—I mean, Gabrielle is with me.”

“Oh.”

“She doesn’t have a car.”

“I see,” she said, her voice laced with innuendo. “Well, Gabby, should feel right at home in the mountains, with all the trees.” Laughter at her own joke burst over the speaker.

Dell shifted in his seat. “Courtney, you’re on the hands-free speaker.”

“Oh. Sorry, Gabby,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.

“How are things in Manhattan?” he asked, trying to reroute the conversation into safer territory.

“Great,” she said brightly. “My apartment is fabulous, the view from my office is unreal and the men here think my southern accent is exotic.”

“That’s nice,” he said breezily.

“In fact, I need to run. Have fun this weekend you two,” she said, her voice singsongy. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Thinking sourly that Courtney’s parting remark left way too much leeway, Dell disconnected the call. “Sorry about that,” he said, feeling annoyed with Courtney over her insensitive remarks, and feeling guilty that she had struck a nerve implying that in a cozy setting with a member of the opposite sex, he would behave accordingly.

Gabby didn’t respond, just kept reading, which only disgruntled him more. Why wouldn’t the woman talk to him? She just sat there, exuding some kind of light, fruity scent that made him wonder if she tasted as good as she smelled.

He wondered if she had any idea of how appealing she was, if she’d ever been thoroughly kissed or if she’d ever had those long, fabulous legs of hers wrapped around a man who knew what he was doing.

Then Dell pulled his hand down his face. He had to get a grip on himself. These unforeseen feelings of lust were messing with his head.

He glanced at Gabby’s tempting profile, groaning inwardly.

And they weren’t even there yet.

5

GABRIELLE TRIED to concentrate on the papers she was pretending to read, wishing that she hadn’t been privy to a conversation between Dell and his ex-whatever. And the last thing she needed was for Courtney to taunt her about the two of them being thrown together in an intimate setting. As if she weren’t supremely aware of the man sitting next to her.

His seemingly constant questions had rattled her, but in truth, she preferred him talking—when she was answering him, it took her mind off the fact that he looked so sexy in his khaki shorts and pale blue T-shirt. Her gaze kept straying to his tanned, bare arms and legs, thinking how much more at ease he looked in hiking clothes versus suits.

Maybe he was more at ease, but seeing his muscular limbs sprawled in the seat and the athletic way he controlled his body was causing her a great deal of discomfort. And she couldn’t afford to let her irrational attraction to Dell distract her from the competition—she needed all her faculties if she were going to have a fighting chance. With every mile that ticked off the odometer, the stone of dread in her stomach grew heavier and heavier. She nibbled on her thumbnail—what had she gotten herself into?

Dell seemed to have picked up speed since his phone call with Courtney. He turned off the state highway onto a two-lane road that led to the Amicalola Falls State Park, and with the change in landscape, her nerves ratcheted higher. Hoping to calm herself, she pulled out the “Adrenaline Rush” article that she’d torn out and brought with her for moral support.

Everyone has untapped talents, or talents that you take for granted and can apply to other parts of your life.

She reread the words she’d already practically memorized, desperate to drum last-minute courage into her brain, but her brain seemed a little…woozy. Maybe it was her imagination, but the roads seemed to be getting more steep…and more curvy…

Suddenly her stomach roiled and she grabbed the handle on the door frame above her.

“What’s wrong?” Dell asked.

“I…think…I’m…carsick,” she murmured. “You might…want to…slow down.”

“You might want to stop reading,” he said irritably. “We’re running late, remember?”

“I…don’t…ride…in cars…very…often,” she said, grabbing her stomach.

“Oh, good grief,” he muttered.

The vehicle slowed, and he zoomed her window down, bathing her with hot, but fresh, air. She hung her head out the window and breathed deeply, knowing that she probably looked pathetic to Dell, but acknowledged it was better than throwing up in front of him. Several minutes later, her stomach was feeling a touch better…but her throat was feeling scratchy and her nose had started to run.

Ragweed.

Getting back to nature had brought her dormant allergies roaring to life. This did not bode well for the weekend. “Do you have a tissue?” she asked, wiping at her watery eyes.

He tapped the brake. “Are you going to be sick?”

“No, at least not yet. My allergies are acting up.”

“Check the glove compartment,” he said, pointing.

She opened it and a box of condoms sprang into her hand. There was also a black bra, a jock strap and a jar of something called Slippery Sex. The man drove a rolling love shack.

He grinned and didn’t even have the grace to look sheepish. “In the back.”

With her face burning, she rummaged past a couple of maps, found a wad of napkins from a fast-food place, yanked one out and sneezed into it. She wanted to roll up the window, but didn’t dare until the queasiness passed. “Please slow down,” she moaned, resting her chin on the window opening.

“I’m going below the minimum speed limit,” he said. “At this rate, we’ll never get up this mountain.” But he eased off the gas and waved two vehicles around them. When two bicyclists passed them going uphill, Dell’s frustration became palpable.

“Maybe I should take you back,” he said, pushing his hand into his hair.

“No,” she said, gulping air past her clogged adenoids. “I’ll be fine once I acclimate.”

He barked out a laugh. “How long will that take?”

“I don’t know,” she said, bracing for a violent sneeze. From her lap she grabbed what she thought was the napkin, but wound up sneezing into the black bra. Afterward she held it up by finger and thumb and looked at Dell. “Sorry.”

He grimaced and reached over to take the bra, then tossed it out his window. Then he looked at the dash, his eyes wide. “Oh, no.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, squeezing the bridge of her stuffy nose.

“The engine light is on—I think it’s overheated.” He steered the SUV to the shoulder and turned off the engine. “I don’t believe this.”

“Turn on the heater,” she mumbled.

“What? Why?”

“It’ll lower the engine temperature.”

He looked dubious, but he did what she suggested, then climbed out and raised the hood. Steam hissed into the air. Dell waved his arms back and forth, looking for the source.

“Check the radiator cap for a leak,” she called, then blew her nose heartily.

“Yeowww!” he howled.

She sighed, then grabbed the jock strap and climbed out to find Dell holding his burnt fingers. “It’s hot,” she added.

“I knew that,” he said, swearing and waving his red fingers in the air. “I just forgot.”

“Stand back,” she said, then used the jock strap to loosen the cap. No radiator fluid spewed out, only more steam. She leaned in and poked at the radiator hoses, zeroing in on a hole the size of a pencil eraser. “There’s your problem—a burst hose.”

He looked at her, his expression incredulous. “You know about cars?”

She frowned. “A little. Do you have an extra hose?”

“No.”

“Radiator fluid?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Wait here.” Gabrielle walked to the back of the SUV, sneezing three times in a row and dabbing at her eyes. She opened the hatch and rummaged through her backpack, removing a roll of black electrical tape, a bottle of water, a tube of burn salve and a white bandage. She walked back to the front. “Let me see your hand.”

He worked his mouth from side to side, then reluctantly turned over his wounded hand for her inspection. Angry raised blisters formed a line across the underside of his large fingers. She made a rueful noise then opened the bottle of water and, holding his big hand steady, poured cool water over the violated skin. He sucked in a breath, then exhaled in relief.

Gabrielle’s own breathing seemed to be compromised, too, and she couldn’t blame it entirely on her allergies. Watching the water splash over their hands seemed more erotic than simple first aid. Tamping down her visceral reaction to him, she squeezed the burn salve onto her fingertips and applied it to the blisters as carefully as possible. He winced, but he didn’t complain. With her hands shaking, she tore open the bandage and wrapped it around his fingers twice before securing the end.

“There,” she said cheerfully. But when she looked up, she was caught up in his deep, brown eyes that reflected surprise and…desire? She realized that they were standing close enough for her to see the little nicks where he’d cut himself shaving this morning. Instead of his usual designer cologne, the scent of strong soap emanated from his skin. Everything about him was so male, and called to all those things in her that were female.

He wet his lips, and she knew he could sense the pheromones he’d stirred in her body. He leaned in until their lips were mere inches apart. “What now?” he murmured. “We seem to be…stranded.”

At the brush of his breath against her mouth, panic shot through her stomach. Certainly he didn’t intend to kiss her. Maybe she had something in her eye…a leaf in her hair…Yet he seemed to be looking at her mouth, and wasn’t this just how she’d always fantasized it would be between her and Dell? That he would look into her eyes and fall in love with her? That he would kiss her and realize she was the one?

Her breasts grew heavy and she forgot to breathe until her lungs contracted and she had to gasp for air. The shock to her system jarred her back to reality and into motion. “Stranded?” she said, turning back to the exposed engine. “Not necessarily.”

With renewed focus, she used her teeth to tear off a foot-long piece of the black electrical tape and reached in to tightly wrap the damaged hose. Retrieving the bottle of water, she said, “Stand back.”

He did, watching intently. She carefully poured the rest of the water into the radiator, pulling back until the steam slowed, then replaced the cap loosely. “Start it up,” she said.

Looking doubtful, he climbed in and started the engine. She checked to make sure the hose was holding and left the radiator cap loose in case pressure built up again, then lowered the hood and wiped her hands on her pants.

She climbed back inside and settled into her seat, trying to put their close encounter out of her mind. “Drive slowly to the next service station.” She blew her nose again—the brief time outside had sent her allergies into overdrive.

“Thanks,” Dell said. “That was…impressive.”

“Next time you might want to put as much thought into a roadside repair kit as you do your makeout kit,” she mumbled, stuffing the condoms and body lube back into the glove compartment, and pulling out another wad of paper napkins. Her foggy head was making her bold, she realized, and she hoped the flush on her cheeks could be attributed to the heat. With everything at stake, she couldn’t believe that she’d almost succumbed to his indiscriminate sex appeal.

And worse…how utterly lame was it that she knew more about how to fix a radiator hose than how to put on a condom?

DELL STARED at the slip of a woman slumped in the passenger seat, carsick, her nose and eyes red from unseen allergens. She’d just saved their asses…and had given him the best—or should he say worst—hard-on in recent memory.

What other surprises did Gabby have up her prim little sleeve?

He pulled back onto the road and drove slowly, keeping an eye out for the engine light to come back on. Soft snores sounded and he looked over to see Gabby’s mouth slack in sleep, her face a becoming shade of pink. The allergy attack must have zapped her, he realized, still marveling over her ingenuity and feeling a little upstaged by her preparedness.

A tiny blip of alarm zigzagged through his chest. Was this a foreboding of how the competition would play out?

Then he laughed at his own musings. A road repair that she’d learned in a women’s magazine article was one thing, but surviving in the elements was quite another. Her snoring escalated and he smirked. After all, the mere drive to the competition had put her under.

But it gave him a chance to study the puzzling young woman—the elegant, understated lines of her face, her long, graceful hands and feet, her slender figure and the lush curve of her breasts. In between teasing her in the hallways at the office, how had her quiet beauty escaped him all these years?

Because he typically went for the obvious beauties, like Courtney, he realized. Because he knew what to expect from women like Courtney-fun and fleeting involvement, with no strings. But a quiet little bird like Gabby was likely inexperienced with relationships and would probably misconstrue sex with something crazy, like love.

Dell flexed his bandaged hand. He did not need the complication of love in his life, not when his career was bulleting up and he already had less free time than he’d like to pursue the outdoor sports he enjoyed.

He forced his attention from the slender beauty back to the road. For the meantime, he’d stick to the obvious.

A few miles later, he pulled into a mom-and-pop service station and still Gabby didn’t awaken. He introduced himself to a skinny young guy named Walt who wore overalls over a shirtless, bony chest. “Can you replace a radiator hose?”

The man spat in the dirt. “No problem. Pull ’er in.”

Dell pulled the SUV into the place the man indicated, frowning when he saw the guy staring at Gabby through the window.

“Pretty girl,” Walt said when Dell climbed out to oversee the work. “Daughter?”

“No,” Dell said sharply. Christ, did she look that young, and he that old? “Girlfriend,” he felt compelled to add firmly, to divert the man’s attention.

Walt grunted and lifted the hood. “Hmm, nice repair job.”

“Thanks,” Dell said, further rankled.

“This’ll take me a few minutes.” Walt stopped and wrote something on a slip. “Take this to the cashier and she’ll ring you up.”

Dell opened the driver-side door to crack the windows in the SUV, his glance landing on Gabby’s heart-shaped face, flushed from the heat, long, golden lashes resting on high cheekbones, surrounded by curls that had sprung loose from her ponytail in the humidity. She did look more like a teenager than a woman he should be lusting after, but the swell of her breasts beneath her T-shirt and the memory of her breathless arousal when they had almost kissed under the hood proved that she was every ounce a woman.

A woman smart enough not to let him kiss her.

He frowned and locked the doors of the SUV, then walked into the area where sundries were sold to pay the cashier for the repair. While he was there, he bought a package of allergy medicine and a bottle of water for Gabby. By the time he returned, Walt was lowering the hood.

“Start her up,” he directed Dell.

Gabby stirred when he started the engine, but didn’t fully waken until he pulled from the uneven paved lot back onto the road.

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