Jackson didn’t press the issue.Vanessa would look for a hotel tomorrow.Camping had lost its appeal, and today’s interaction with Paul left a lot to be desired—in more ways than one.She couldn’t get his kiss out of her mind.
It was a shame he’d ruined his chances with her by claiming he wasn’t interested and acting like a jerk.She hadn’t been with anyone since Bennett, and she needed a sexual palate cleanser.
She pushed aside thoughts of Paul and considered vacation options.It wouldn’t be easy to find a better spot.The closest option was Last Chance, more than an hour away.There were several budget hotels in that area and some pretty parks to visit.Staying in a hotel for several weeks would strain her finances but it wasn’t the end of the world.She could also swallow her pride and stay with her father.
She fingered her margarita glass, contemplative.The prospect of reuniting with him didn’t bother her as much as it once had.Maybe she could overcome her bitterness and move on.Her father wasn’t Bennett.
Forgiveness didn’t come easily to her, however.She held strong convictions, and she committed to them.Now that she’d been betrayed by her own husband, she felt no mercy for cheaters.It was hard to believe there were loyal, decent men in the world after being confronted with so much evidence to the contrary.Even Jackson seemed disinclined toward monogamy.She wondered if he’d been faithful in his relationships.
“I have tomorrow off,” Jackson said.“I’ll camp with you tonight.”
“Can we make s’mores?”Emily asked.
“We can if you eat your dinner.”
The little girl nodded happily.
“You’re a good brother,” Vanessa said.
“The best,” Jackson agreed.
Chapter Ten
The cold showerhad little effect on Paul’s overheated body.
He emerged from the bathroom, pulled on a pair of dry shorts, and prowled around the cabin in restless strides.He’d left his shoes outside on the dock in his haste to flee the scene with Vanessa, so he had to go barefoot.His phone chimed with a text message notification, probably from his brother.Paul ignored it.He wasn’t in the mood to talk.He needed to slow down his racing thoughts and figure out what the hell had happened with Vanessa.Thirty days in the field and he was already cracking up.
Making a strangled noise of frustration, he strode into the kitchen for a glass of ice water.While he chugged it, he pictured his face imploding from sourness, collapsing in on itself.He sputtered with helpless laughter.
Vanessa Nava was driving him insane.That was the only explanation.She kept seeing him at his worst, prying into his personal business, and offering him assistance he couldn’t refuse.Last night, she’d helped him navigate respiratory distress.This afternoon, she’d rescued him from an excruciating muscle cramp.He was falling apart, mentally and physically, and she was right there to witness it.She’d done something to him that was part massage, part sorcery.And, God help him, he’d liked it.
He didn’t blame her for his sexual reaction, or for the kiss he’d planted on her.That was all him.Or it was them, in combination.They were combustible together.She was a sensual, beautiful woman, and he wanted her.
Unless he was mistaken, she wanted him, too.He’d read her signals and responded.
He’d been in agony when the muscle spasm hit.He’d tried not to panic, though the urge to thrash around had been hard to resist.When he’d noticed her coming toward him, he’d forced himself to relax and tread water.He hadn’t wanted to look weak in front of her.Maybe that was why he’d kissed her.He’d needed to take her attention away from his gunshot wound.He’d also been desperate to change the dynamic between them, to reassert his male power.Fear of drowning had heightened his senses and brought a rush of endorphins.Also, the sight of her lush, wet curves in that barely-there bikini had made him dizzy with lust.
He’d kept his gaze on her face, though he’d been tempted to ogle her breasts like a horny teenager.But that modicum of control hadn’t helped.She’d met his gaze boldly, her eyes half-lidded and her lips parted in invitation.
Jesus.
As soon as he made contact with her mouth, he’d been lost.He’d forgotten where he was and who he was supposed to be.He’d forgotten about his injury and how he’d sustained it.He’d forgotten about everything but her.
He couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had transported him so completely.His previous relationship had fizzled before he left Houston.He didn’t have casual affairs.Vanessa wasn’t a casual type, either.Paul frowned at the label, uncertain how to categorize her.They’d spent hours together playing Scrabble.They’d shared a series of intense moments.Their exchanges, while brief, had felt meaningful.
He shouldn’t have made a move on her today, regardless.She’d been trying to engage him in a conversation, not attempting to seduce him.But she hadn’t said no when his head dipped, and she’d kissed him back with a hunger that surprised him.Apparently he hadn’t scared her away with his boorish behavior.Maybe she saw through his façade, or she didn’t care how rude he was.She was on the rebound from a bad divorce.She wasn’t looking for a nice guy to settle down with.She was looking for a good time in bed.
Damn it.
How was he supposed to say no if she offered him her body?He wasn’t made of stone.Memories of her taste and feel swamped his senses.She’d been so deliciously sweet and hot.He’d wanted to peel away her bikini and bury himself in her.He wouldn’t have gone that far, not out in the open in broad daylight.But if they got the chance to be together, somewhere private… he’d take it.
Paul forced himself to stop fantasizing about Vanessa and focus on dinner.He chopped vegetables, cooked some rice, and tossed up a decent stir-fry.When he was finished, he washed the dishes.Then he tugged on a shirt and resumed pacing.He normally didn’t mind spending quiet evenings by himself.Tonight, he felt restless and trapped, like a prisoner in his own skin.He decided to retrieve the shoes and shirt he’d left on the dock.
As soon as he stepped on the back porch, he thought of Vanessa, helping him with the panic attack he’d suffered the night before.All she’d asked for in return was a game of Scrabble, and he’d turned her down.Feeling guilty, he strode down the tree-lined path and made his way toward the dock.The early evening air felt cooler, but still warm enough to swim.The sun lingered on the horizon, as if refusing to let the day slip away.
His shoes were at the end of the dock, where he’d left them.He slipped them on and stood there with his hands in his pockets.People on vacation watched sunsets, and enjoyed quiet contemplation.He attempted to do this and felt nothing.If anything, the strain of trying to relax gave him a slight headache.
As he strolled back toward the cabin, his unease grew.He pictured Vanessa at her campsite, roasting weenies with her daughter.Paul wanted to forget her face, to deny their connection and ignore his feelings.Then something clicked inside him, an understanding that he’d wronged her.He’d been so rattled by their kiss, he’d almost forgotten about the careless words he’d spoken after Emily had caught them.
