The Maverick's Red Hot Reunion  (7)

By: Christine Glover

She broke off from his dark brown gaze and the hot desire flickering in his black pupils to walk to his motorcycle. Behind her, the earth crunched beneath Zach’s feet as if he were a giant walking across small villages, not moss and twigs and dirt.

Kennedy slipped her helmet over her head and waited for Zach to slide on the motorcycle before fusing her body to his for the ride.

He looked over his shoulder. “Hang on. I plan to go fast.” He smiled and gunned the engine.

Kennedy clung to his waist and hid her head behind his broad back as he increased their speed and drove to the main highway. The drive to the hot springs had reawakened her craving and her long neglected urges. Not for any man. But for Zach.

The next hour would be unbearable. The next two to three months? Excruciating.

She squeezed her eyes and thought of icebergs, glaciers, and snowstorms. Anything to stop the maddening compulsion to give in to her physical attraction to her relentless, hot and sexy ex-lover.

Zach was right. Time and distance had only camouflaged her need.

Sixty minutes later, Zach parked his V-rod in front of the lodge. The sun had dipped behind the mountains and the air had turned uncomfortably cold. A cold that couldn’t ice the heat running through Kennedy’s veins.

“We’ll need two more crews to finish by December,” Zach said after they got off the bike. He took Kennedy’s helmet, his fingers lightly touching her hand.

A tiny shiver traveled through her skin and tiptoed into her belly. Her thighs trembled and her heartbeat kicked up a notch. Keep focused on business. She inhaled a slow breath, waited for her pulse to steady and her legs to stop shaking.

“I agree.” She moved with careful grace to the lodge. “I’ll post the jobs online tomorrow and get the word out on the street. Plenty of people need jobs. We’ll have no problem filling the slots.”

He opened the door. “Excellent.”

Kennedy stepped inside. The sawhorses and plats of wood had turned a ghostly cast of gray in the scant light breaking through the large floor-to-ceiling windows she’d installed. She shivered and tucked her numb fingers under her arms to warm them.

“I want additional security.” Zach snapped the lock into place, then glanced at her. “I like to protect my assets.”

Kennedy inhaled his evocative scent of man. Heat emanated from his tight muscular form. He was close. Too close. Her pulse quickened and her inner frost dissolved. Even her breasts ached with the memory of his touch.

His mouth curved into a small smile as if he could see her body’s reaction to him.

She moved to the ancient front desk and leaned against the scarred edge. “I also protect my assets.”

“Where do you want me to sleep?” he asked.

His voice sounded warm and inviting, deep and dreamy, and as tantalizing as rich whipped cream over hot chocolate sauce.

She bit her lower lip. “Rooms 101 to 125 are available. Take your pick.” She’d not allow his masculinity and aura of sexual power chip away her resolve to remain detached.

He glanced toward her wing. “After you.”

She hurried to the wing of rooms where she’d cobbled together the makings of a rudimentary apartment. The long stretch of faded carpet and peeling wallpaper seemed to shrink as she approached her living quarters. She rarely closed her door, but now she regretted her lack of formality.

Zach craned his neck and glanced over her shoulder. “Still don’t like to make the bed?”

Her cheeks heated. Her lack of housekeeping skills had always been a point of contention between them. “There’s no need,” she said. “I’m just going to rumple it up again.”

“It’s more fun when there’s two to twist the sheets.”

“It’s easier not to argue about who should make the bed.”

“You left the television on.” He shook his head. “Still afraid of the dark and things that go bump in the night?”

She watched the play of memories flash through his dark eyes, a hint of the man she’d once known behind his commanding corporate mask. Zach had often found her sleeping in front of the television with the sound turned low enough to hear, but not so high as to interfere with her dreams. He’d curl beside her and kiss her to wakefulness and a night of playful lovemaking.

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