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Reporter Annie Wylde and Mother Nature are lifelong enemies, but she signs up
for a wilderness canoe trip anyway. When she meets the wilderness guide,
hunky former Major Leaguer Sam Kincaid, chemistry sizzles, but their baggage and
lifestyles collide. Retired from baseball because of a hand injury, Sam
finds Annie a sexy challenge but believes he's a failure and they're too
different. Having been hurt by a pro-athlete lover, Annie wants nothing to
do with Sam, except just a look from him makes her toes curl. When the
Hunter plays tracks on the camping group and stalks Annie, Sam and Annie must
borrow from each other's strengths to defeat him.
Coming soon!
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Chapter 6
After organizing her sleeping bag and duffels
inside her tent, Annie changed into her tankini. She walked along the shore with
the bag of Emma's ashes tucked in the crook of one arm. Wild raspberry bushes
lined the rough path. The sun's warmth and the sweet tang of overripe berries
filled the air.
Scanning the water for dangers, she waded one
step at a time into the tepid water. "Idiot. No sharks here. Only Sam." She
frowned. Never mind that Emma would've laughed at her fears. And at her
resistance to the attractive guide.
The water was clear enough to distinguish
individual grains of sand on the bottom and the herringbone pattern on the
sandals' straps. A school of minnows swirled around her calves. When she dipped
her hand toward them, they darted away. Tiny silver arrows.
Except for the hum of bees and a lilting spiral
of birdsong, the forest behind her and the lake lay in silence. She could no
longer hear her companions' voices.
"Well, Emma, here you are." Tears choked her
voice as she unzipped the plastic bag. "May the beauty and purity of this wild
lake bring you peace."
She sprinkled the small amount of ashes over
the waters along with a generous helping of tears.
After the ashes spread and sank, Annie dove in
and swam until her sore arms forced her to stop and lather up with the
biodegradable soap and shampoo Moosewoods required.
Feeling marginally better, she waded out and
dried off. Sensing a presence behind her, she glanced back at the berry bushes
and the dark forest beyond. No birdsong. No breeze.
Nothing.
She shook off her paranoia and spread her towel
on a flat rock. A little work on her laptop was what she needed. She booted up
and opened the folder labeled Hunter. A spreadsheet detailed each
murder--victim description, place and time of abduction, body's location.
The police had no leads, no suspects and few
clues. She owed it to Emma and her mother to do whatever she could to find
Emma's killer. Rissa had been her confidante and mentor since her arrival in
Portland. Rissa and Emma had helped her through the dark days after fleeing Ian
and the city.
Annie prayed that immersing herself in this
alien wilderness would help her understand the monster that had taken Emma and
the others.
"I'll find him, Emma. I promise," she
whispered.
A rustle in the bushes lurched her heart into a
rapid tattoo. She leapt to her feet and peered into the gathering shadows. A
moose coming to drink? A bear eating berries?
Another thump and she catapulted toward the
path, her towel flapping behind her.
A hand clamped her shoulder.
A scream rose to her throat and stuck there.
She tried to wrench away, but hard arms surrounded her.
"Whoa, whoa, princess! It's me." The instant
Sam grabbed her he knew he'd made a mistake. She stomped on his insole. She
twisted around. Before her knee could score on his most vulnerable area, he held
her at arm's length.
"Sam!" Gasping for breath, she wrenched
free. When recognition hit her, she swung her towel at him. "You scared the bejesus out of me. I broke another nail. Dumb jocks, everything has to be
physical with you jerks. What were you doing grabbing me?" She tossed the towel
over her shoulder.
Damn, she was beautiful breathing fire and
whaling at him. Her wet hair was slicked back and brushed her shoulders. Her
cheeks flamed bright pink to match her swimsuit, and her breasts heaved. Round
and high, full enough to fill his palms.
His eyes were glued to her chest until he
noticed the way her top played peek-a-boo with her navel. His hands started to
sweat. Oh man, he'd been alone too long if he got this excited about a woman's
bellybutton.
He dragged his gaze to hers. "If I'd taken the
time to be cerebral about it, you'd have tripped over that rock and sent that
baby computer to cyber heaven."
She shot a glance at the tuft of grass that
concealed a jutting stone. "Why'd you sneak up on me in the first place?"
He pointed toward the woods path. "I was coming
to get you. The fire's ready to cook the lobsters."
She narrowed her eyes. "And you thought you'd
scare me first by tromping like a bear through the raspberries?"
"Not me. I was just walking along the path. I
saw you about to trip. I yelled, but you didn't hear me." He examined the
purpling bruise on his foot. "You got some good moves. Your knee came awful
close to crunching the family jewels."
Her mouth twitched into a small, smug smile.
"Living in New York, a woman learns to take care of herself."
Ah, here was his chance. "And now you live in
Portland, Maine. A nice little city, but no Big Apple to a hotshot reporter.
Why'd you leave?"
She shrugged and wouldn't meet his gaze. "Oh, I
needed a change. The Messenger offered me a by-line. It'll look good on
my résumé when I go back."
"Uh-huh."
"What? You don't believe me? As if I care."
She bent over to pry a stone from her sandal.
The movement opened a gap in her swimsuit top and afforded him a peek at one
shadowed nipple.
He swallowed. Hard.
"As compulsive as you are about your work?" he
choked out. "No, you had more reason than needing a change."
"And how would you know I'm compulsive about
work?" She folded her arms. Her gray eyes flashed storm clouds at him.
"Supposing I am, that is."
"One, it looks like stress forced you to take a
time out."
She hitched her shoulders at that. "So you
say."
A swing and a hit. "Two, you brought your
computer. What's the hot story you can't let go?"
"None of your business."
Correction--stand-up double. He was on a
streak. "Top secret, huh?"
She started toward the lake. "I have lobsters
to cook."
"Take it easy, princess. I didn't mean
anything." He clasped her hand to halt her and beamed a fan-winning smile.
To his relief, she turned back to him, set down
the case. "And that really wasn't you in the bushes back there?"
He traced an X on his chest. "Cross my heart."
Her cheeks paled. "Could it have been a bear?"
She hadn't tugged her hand away, so he stepped
close enough to inhale her freshly shampooed hair and feminine scent. His breath
hitched. "Doubtful. Maybe a porcupine. These campsites smell too much of humans.
Bears stay away."
"So I'm safe?"
"From bears, yes." He sent her a lazy grin,
flicked a finger at the towel over her shoulders, let his hand drift down her
bare arm. Soft, smoother than the wood of a new ash bat. "But if you do see a
bear, don't run. You'd have more chance stealing home plate than escaping a
charging black bear. Wave something, like this towel. Look big and scary."
She maneuvered until she held the towel out
like a cape. "Like this?"
Man, there was that navel again, a sweet little
innie in a smooth white belly. His gaze cruised to her mouth. How soft were her
lips? He longed to run his tongue along her full lower lip and taste her. His
blood rushed south.
"Sca-a-ary. Man, if I was a bear, I'd high-tail
it." He just couldn't help it; he slid his hands around her narrow waist and
pulled her close. He'd promised Ben he wouldn't have sex with her. A few kisses
wouldn't hurt, might take the edge off, like pre-game warm-ups. "But I'm not a
bear."
Her eyelashes drifted lower as she tilted her
head back to look up at him. Her lush lips parted, inviting his kiss. "O-o-oh,
Sam?" Her voice was breathy, sexy, inviting.
"Yes?" He circled his thumbs over the silk of
her bare midriff. He lowered his head.
"You're no bear. You're a shark. And if you
want to keep the family jewels intact, let me go now."
Her voice floated so low and sweet to his ears
that at first he didn't comprehend her words. His head shot up. He backed up,
releasing her. "That was a dirty trick."
"Merely a defensive tactic." She draped the
towel around her shoulders like a royal cape and stalked off.
Annie exhaled a shaky breath at her narrow
escape. Her skin tingled where he'd caressed her, her nipples tightened and her
heart clattered. So much for resisting her attraction to Sam Kincaid. The man
was walking temptation--hard body, killer grin and more than a conman's share of
charm. She'd wanted to kiss him, oh, she'd wanted. She still wanted.
But she didn't want the distraction from
studying her Hunter notes. Involvement with another jock who thought he was sex
on a stick?
No, thank you. She didn't do casual. Her
emotions would sneak in, and her heart would get broken.
Excerpt from Primal Obsession
By Susan Vaughan
The Wild Rose Press
©Susan Hofstetter Vaughan, 2008
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