His, Unexpectedly Page 7

She wrinkled her nose. “Or we could pick a direction and see where we end up.”

  “But then we might miss something we want to see.”

  “Or find something cool and unexpected. Come on, Mark, trust in the universe.” She tossed him a grin. “I’m going to change into shorts.”

  She opened the side door of the Westfalia and went inside, not closing it after her.

  Trying not to think about her getting changed, he sat at the picnic table, his back to the camper. He’d have scanned the brochure, but she’d taken it with her. His scientist’s mind itched for information. His colleague had mentioned a reconstructed Yurok Indian village, a beach with agates, and a native plant garden.

  “I could use a snack.” Her voice made him turn. “How about you?”

  He forgot all about Yuroks, quartz, and botany. Her legs, long and lean below faded denim cut-offs, were stunning. Every bit as fine as he’d imagined, seeing them through her filmy skirt, and then some.

  “See something you like?” she teased.

  He dragged his gaze from her legs to see that she was holding out the small cooler, its top hinged back so he could see the contents. A block of white cheese, a package of multi-grain crackers, and half a dozen apples. Was that all she’d planned to eat for dinner, or had she been going to buy groceries or a restaurant meal?

  The sight of food made his stomach growl, a reminder that all he’d had to eat in hours was half a slice of pie. “Yeah, that’d be good.” She was touchy about her finances. Proud. “If you provide the snack, dinner’s on me.”

  Her eyes narrowed, then she nodded. “If you’re sure. Bet you have a knife somewhere to cut the cheese.”

  “I’ll show you where everything is.” He rose.

  “Great.” She clambered back into the camper.

  Very nice, curvy butt in those tight shorts. Oh yeah, he saw something he liked. As he followed her, his hands tingled with the desire to touch her, as did other portions of his anatomy.

  Even when he was on his own, the space inside the West-falia was tight. With Jenna in there, too, it was almost impossible to move without bumping into each other. When he reached past her to open the drawer, his hand brushed her arm, and she took a step backward, her bottom nudging his hip.

  Primal desire made him want to grab her waist and haul her against him, to grind his growing erection against her firm curves. Damn, why did this woman make him react like a caveman?

  “Sorry,” she murmured, turning to face him, the mischievous sparkle in her eyes belying the apology. “Not a lot of space in here.” The front of her body was inches from his. “People really have to be friendly.”

  “Uh, yeah.” He wished Adrienne was here to interpret.

  “I’m friendly.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve noticed that.” Not only with him, but with service station staff and cashiers. But he was the one she’d kissed. That kiss had stunned him with its force.

  “Did anyone ever tell you …” Her pink lips parted like in a kiss, and she pronounced slowly, stopping between each word, “You think too much.”

  In his opinion, it was virtually impossible to think too much. On the other hand … No, he was glad Adrienne wasn’t here. He could handle this himself. He closed the small distance between them, leaned down, and touched his lips to Jenna’s, abandoning thought and giving in to the experience.

  The overwhelming experience. She was everything at once: lips, tongue, summery scent. Breasts, hips, little sounds deep in her throat. Too much to take in. Yet, not enough, because he wanted her naked, flesh to flesh.

  Gasping for breath, he freed his mouth from hers. Somehow, their arms had got wrapped around each other; their bodies were pressed tight. His cock was rock hard, and his hands gripped her butt, though he had no memory of putting them there.

  Kissing her was like … being hit by lightning. Except in a good way. An amazingly good way. “Jesus, Jenna, you’re …”

  Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, her lips swollen and damp. “Yeah. That was …”

  His body throbbed with the urgent need to mate, to climax. A primitive need. But he wasn’t a primitive guy. He’d never felt this kind of urgency before.

  He forced himself to let go of her and step back. This whole thing was extremely odd. The theory about MHC profiles explained attraction, but he didn’t recall any studies saying that the sexual spark would be a virtual inferno and well nigh irresistible. “I need to cool down.” His voice came out hoarse with unslaked lust. “Let’s go for that walk.”

  “Walk,” she echoed. “Right. I was getting a snack.”

  “I’ll wait outside.” No way could he stay in here without following through on his body’s urging. He clambered out of the camper, erection still painfully hard, grabbing the park brochure on the way.

  Pacing slowly around the campsite, taking deep breaths, he read every word of the brochure even though his brain, usually so sharp, had trouble concentrating. Probably, little oxygen was getting to it. Most of the blood in his body had surged below his belt.

  The only thought that managed to hold his attention was this: if kissing Jenna had such a potent impact, what would making love be like? Would the two of them survive it?

  He had that feeling again, the same one he’d had when he was donning his scuba gear, ready to plunge into the ocean’s depths for the very first time.

  Chapter 4

  My hand shook as I sliced cheddar with Mark’s knife. What was up with those kisses?

  Aside from his hard-on, which was totally impressive. And irresistible. My thong was soaked, my pussy throbbed with achy need, and if he hadn’t been waiting outside I’d have applied a couple of fingers and finished myself off.

  I should be pissed at him for breaking the kiss rather than letting the tidal wave sweep us both away to orgasm.

  Except … Was it just orgasm I craved, or was there something special about the sexy scientist?

  I was glad he’d gone out, giving me a little breathing space. I hadn’t felt so discombobulated since I’d met Travis. At seventeen, I’d had sex with one guy before, and done a lot of fooling around with several. But Travis—he was different. Physically, it was a sudden revelation of what it meant to be a woman, sensual and sexual. Emotionally … Well, that was where I’d made my mistake.

  That was what I got for not listening to my mom. When we girls were ten or eleven, she’d given each of us a boringly scientific talk about becoming a woman, sexuality, birth control, STDs, yada yada. I’d heard it all at school, not to mention from Tree and Kat, so I tuned her out. I tuned in again when she said you always fall a little in love with the man who awakens your sexuality, but you shouldn’t make the mistake of believing that first love was a forever one.

  But then, from age ten to seventeen was a lot of years, and no amount of maternal lecturing could have prepared me for Travis. He was twenty, gorgeous in a dark, moody way, and he rode a motorbike. He had that whole sexy bad boy thing going on, and sex with him was a revelation. More than that, though, he’d said he loved me, and I’d believed he thought I was special.

  In my family, I’d never measured up to my two older sisters, nor to Merilee, the sweet, perfect baby. But then, with Travis, I’d believed I was the center of someone’s world, and I’d made him the center of mine. And look where my stupidity got me: infected and infertile, my dreams of love and kids shattered.

  Yes, there was adoption. But I couldn’t think about that, or I’d begin to hope again, to dream, and the dream would be a stupid one. Let’s face it, how could I look after kids when I hadn’t even looked after myself? Not only that, I honestly had no desire to settle in one place, with one job—and I’d never let myself fall in love again. There were plenty of great guys in the world to have fun with and still remain heart whole and fancy free.

  “Jenna? Everything okay?”

  I glanced around to see one of those guys peering into the camper.

  “Coming.” I’d been slicing white che
ddar automatically, and had cut too much. I crammed the extra into a plastic bag and put it in the fridge, then bundled cheese and crackers into a couple of paper towels. I handed one bundle to Mark and tossed him a Fuji apple, which he fielded in a neat, one-handed catch. Then I took my own snack and jumped out of the camper to join him.

  My little trip down memory lane had put things in perspective. No matter how stunning his kisses were, that was only pheromones, like he’d said. Mark was just another guy to have fun with. He wouldn’t get under my skin any more than any of the men I’d hung out with since Travis.

  Sunshine, the scent of pine, an intriguing guy—what more could a girl possibly want? Smiling, I closed my eyes and spun in a circle. “Let’s go”—I stopped, pointed, and opened my eyes—“that way.”

  Smart enough not to protest again, Mark fell into step. We found a well-traveled path with a carved wooden sign that told us we were heading for Sumeg Village. Hmm. We were in the woods, near the ocean. Why would there be a village? Where were my instincts taking me this time?

  Munching on sharp cheddar and crackers full of grains and seeds, we hiked at a relaxed pace on a weathered chip trail framed by tall trees. From the nearby campground, the smell of roasting wieners and hamburgers drifted on the air, mingling with the green scent of the forest.

  I loved being out in nature, feeling as if I were breathing it in through every pore. “We’re lucky to get sunshine,” I commented. “It rains a lot here.”

  “Yeah. How did you know that?”

  “How tall the trees are, the number of plants, how dense everything is. Trees and shrubs growing on rotten logs. It reminds me of B.C., with the Sitka spruce, Douglas fir, pine, red alder, hemlock.”

  “You know your trees.”

  “I hung out with a park ranger a few years ago.” Though I had no formal education past that grade twelve diploma my parents had forced me to get—imagine being grounded for an entire year!—I was interested in lots of things and absorbed information easily. I finished my cheese and crackers and stuffed the used paper towel in my pocket as Mark did the same.

  I was about to take a bite out of my apple when we came out into a grassy clearing with a few old, apparently uninhabited wooden buildings. Sumeg Village, the sign said, and a carved redwood canoe told the story. “It’s Native American.” There was a sense of peace and timelessness that made me lower my voice instinctively.

  “Yurok.” His voice, too, was low.

  “Not original?” The few wooden buildings were weathered, but didn’t look ancient.

  “A reconstruction built twenty years ago by local Yurok together with park staff. A cultural, educational project.”

  He must have read about this when he was planning his trip. I nodded, and moved toward a low structure made of rough planks and large rocks. “This is odd.”

  “Sweat house.”

  “Mmm. Like a sauna.” We wandered around, studying the family homes, the canoe, and what Mark said was a brush dance pit.

  “Brush dance,” I echoed. “That’s a healing dance for children, isn’t it?”

  He gazed at me in surprise. “How did you … oh, let me guess. Dated a First Nations man?”

  “Yeah, and I volunteered to do grunt work on an archaeology dig. It was fascinating.”

  A family arrived, noisy and excited, and we moved away. “Let’s go this way.” I pointed at random, and we started out on another trail, walking in silence and munching the crisp, sweet apples. The tall trunks and canopy of green branches made the place feel like a natural cathedral. Voices chanting or Indian drumming would have fit but not plain old chatter.

  The dull roar of crashing waves suited the place perfectly and grew louder. Soon we came out above a dramatic, rocky coastline. Off the headlands, a rocky pillar was an irresistible beacon. Heading toward it, I said, “Looks like a sea stack.” The dramatic stacks were found along the west coast—craggy chunks of rock cut off from the coast and eroded by waves and wind.

  As we got closer, I said, “Oh look, it’s still joined to the land. Let’s hike over and take the trail to the top.”

  Mark tossed the nibbled-down core of his apple far into the ocean where frothy waves caught it. I did the same, a respectable throw but not as strong as his. Invigorated by the brisk breeze, I clasped his hand and tugged him faster along the trail, enjoying the warm strength of his hand in mine. Sensual, arousing in a nice, buzzy way, but without the disturbing full-force impact of those kisses.

  The path and steps were steep, but we made our way up the rocky crag without needing to pause and catch our breath. On a viewing platform, a couple of serious looking boys peered through binoculars. Mark and I kept going up until we stood on the very top.

  Wind whipped my hair wildly, the curls stinging my face. Talk about invigorating, and what a fabulous view of open ocean and the spectacular coastline to the north and south.

  “You know what this is?” Mark asked, voice raised so I could hear him over the waves.

  I shook my head, expecting a lecture on geology.

  “Wedding Rock.”

  “Sorry, what did you say?”

  He repeated himself. “People come here to get married.”

  “You’re making that up.” Not that he seemed the fanciful type, nor a romantic.

  “Apparently it’s true.” He pulled something from his pocket, careful not to let it fly away in the wind, and I saw it was the folded-up park brochure.

  I laughed. “You’ve been studying.”

  “Once a scientist, always a scientist. Besides, I didn’t want us to get lost.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s a park, not the wilderness.” I thought about what he’d said. “For people who believe in vows, this would be a good place to swear them.” I tilted my head up to him. “Especially for someone like you who’s into the environment, in love with the ocean.”

  Would he marry? He wanted a partner, kids. The conventional route would be marriage, but he’d said life partner, not wife. From what I’d seen so far, he was an interesting mix of conventional and unconventional. What kind of woman would he end up with?

  An odd pain throbbed in my chest, and I rubbed at the spot. Heartburn, from eating while I was walking?

  Not jealousy. I never felt possessive about the guys I slept with—and Mark and I weren’t even lovers. Yet.

  A gust of wind blew my hair straight back and raised goosebumps. His arm came around my shoulders slowly, almost cautiously. I leaned into him, appreciating his warmth and solidness atop this windswept, rocky column, and put my arm around his waist. He was so firm—sleek muscle over bone. “It seems like a place to kiss,” I told him. “But …” That tornado might catch us up and hurl us right off this rock.

  His body shook slightly as he chuckled. “Yeah, best play it safe.”

  A couple of teenage boys came scrambling up the rock to join us on top. We all said hi, then one of them smirked and said, “You dudes going to get married up here?”

  I winked at him. “Married? Why ruin a good thing?”

  He flushed and both boys laughed.

  By unspoken agreement, Mark and I surrendered the pinnacle to them and began to climb down. When we paused on the now-deserted viewing platform, he said jokingly, “So much for teaching morality to the younger generation.”

  “Hah hah. Morality’s about things like respect and honesty, not about rules and social institutions.”

  “Yeah, but how do people develop morals? They don’t come out of thin air; they have to be taught.” This time it was Mark who took my hand—the guy was making progress—as we headed down from the viewing platform. “And, even so, you still need laws.”

  “Laws, rules, they can be so restrictive.”

  “Yeah, some are stupid. But others have value. Like, with the environment. People—and corporations—aren’t all going to do the right thing. There need to be laws to punish pollution and incentives to reward green policies. Same principle goes for personal relationships.”<
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  “Such as?”

  We were retracing our steps, walking the trail we’d come in on.

  “Violence,” he said. “Abuse.”

  “Laws don’t do a lot to protect people. I worked in a women’s shelter. Some guys take their marriage certificate as a license to abuse their wives.”

  “I know, and it’s awful.” He shook his head. “Almost makes you believe in primitive justice, like an eye for an eye.”

  “It does. Except, there are problems with that, too.” I enjoyed talking to Mark. For all his love of science, he understood that some issues didn’t have neat scientific explanations or answers.

  Okay, so he was bright, thoughtful, and a decent man, on top of being gorgeous and sexy. That didn’t make him special. I’d dated other guys like that. A handful, at least. Of course, none of them had been passionate about saving the environment and had traveled to exotic locations to do it. None got into sexy lecturer mode, spoke the truth unfailingly, or so adorably missed the point of jokes or the fact that women were hitting on them.

  He steered us off on a trail we hadn’t explored before. I smirked to myself, guessing he’d memorized the park map and had a destination in mind. Oh yeah, he was pretty adorable.

  Fine, so maybe Dr. Mark Chambers was special. Each person was special in their own way. He was still just a guy. A guy it might be safer not to kiss …

  “Surveying falcons,” he said, “helping at an archaeological excavation, working in a women’s shelter. What other things have you done, Jenna?”

  “Park maintenance—that’s when I met the park ranger. Art programs with autistic kids. Therapeutic riding with disabled kids. That kind of thing. I’ve had some of the most fascinating jobs imaginable.”

  “Why so many different ones?”

  I shrugged. “I like variety, same as you.”

  “My variety’s all around one theme, though. One cause that I commit to.” His tone wasn’t exactly approving.

  No surprise, considering how like my family he was. Each to their own, fair enough. But he had no right judging me. “Personally, I don’t get the value of sticking to one thing when there are so many other great ones.”