How To Sleep With The Boss

“I assumed the execs would have to cook for themselves. Isn’t that part of the outdoor experience?”

“In theory, yes. But so far, we’ve only done short trips...two days, one night. So our time frame is limited. Since we want them to do a lot of other activities, we preprepare the food and all they have to do is warm it up. We don’t spend too much time on meals.”

Once Libby had mastered the stove, she glanced up at him. “Surely you don’t expect the entire group to use something this small.”

“No. I have a group of local guys who come along to carry the food, extra stoves and extra water.”

He stared at her, disconcerted by feelings that caught him unawares. He was enjoying himself. Libby was a very soothing person to be around. When she stood up, he walked away, ostensibly picking up some fallen limbs that had littered the campsite.

Grappling with an unexpected attraction, he cursed inwardly. With Charlise, he never felt like he was interacting with a woman. He treated her the same way he did his brothers. Charlise was almost part of his family. While he was delighted that she and her husband were so happy about the upcoming birth, he would be lying if he didn’t admit he was feeling a little bit sorry for himself. Silver Reflections had been going so well. He had honed these outdoor events down to the finest detail. Then Charlise had to go and get pregnant. And his mother had saddled him with Libby. A remarkably appealing woman who’d already managed to get under his skin.

What was he going to do about it? Nothing. It would be a really bad idea to get involved personally with his mother’s beloved Libby. Not only that, but with Charlise out of commission, he had no choice but to work twice as hard. And ignore his libido.

Surely he could be excused for being a little grumpy.

Libby called out to him. “What now?”

He turned around and caught her rolling her shoulders. She’d be sore tomorrow. Backpacking used a set of muscles most people didn’t employ on a daily basis.

“I’ll show you how we string our packs up in the trees,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

He sighed, the look of befuddlement on her face the sign of an outdoor newbie. “Once we set up camp, we won’t be hauling our backpacks everywhere. We’ll use this as home base and range around the area.”

“Why can’t we leave the packs in our tents?”

“Bears,” he said simply.

Up until that point, Libby had done an admirable job keeping her cool, but now she paled. “What do you mean, bears?”

“Black bears have an incredible sense of smell. And they’re omnivorous. Anytime we’re away from camp—and at night when we’re sleeping—we’ll hang our packs from a high tree limb to discourage unwanted visitors. Don’t keep any food in your tent at all, not even a pack of crackers or scented lip balm or toothpaste.”

“I washed my hair with apple shampoo this morning.” Her expression was priceless.

“Not to worry. I should have told you. But the scent won’t be strong enough by the end of the day to make a difference.”

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled as she glanced over her shoulder, perhaps expecting a bear to lumber into sight any moment.

Patrick unearthed a packet of nylon rope. “There will be plenty of tall men around to do this part, but it never hurts to gain a new life skill. Watch me, and then you can try.”

“If you say so.”

He found a rock that was maybe four inches around and tied it to the end of the rope. “Stand back,” he said. Fortunately for his male pride, his first shot sailed over the branch. He reached for the rock again and removed it. “Now all you have to do is attach one end to your pack, send it up, and tie it off.” When Libby seemed skeptical, he laughed, his good humor restored for the moment. “Never mind. I won’t make you practice this right now. We have better things to do.”

“Like what?”

He grabbed a couple of water pouches and a zippered nylon case, then hefted both packs toward the treetops, securing them. “I’m going to show you where I teach the groups how to rappel.”

Libby’s expression was dubious. “Does Charlise do the rappelling thing?”

It was the first time she had seemed at all reluctant to approach something new. “No. Not usually. So if you don’t want to try it, you can watch me. But I do want you to get a feel for the whole range of activities we offer. C’mon...it’s not far.”

As they passed the two tents, neatly in place for the upcoming night, he felt his pulse thud. He’d never thought of camping out as sexual or even sensual. When he spent time with a woman, it was in fine restaurants or at the theater. Perhaps later on soft sheets in her bedroom. But certainly not when both parties were sweaty—and without a luxurious bathroom at hand.

He stumbled. Damn it. Libby was messing with his head.

The large rock outcropping was barely half a mile away. He strode automatically, only slowing down when he realized that Libby was lagging behind. When she caught up, he moved on without speaking.

Though she had been cooperative and pleasant all day, his inadvertent insult from Friday hung between them like a cloud. He would have to address it sooner or later, whether she liked it or not.

When they arrived at their destination, he unzipped the bag and pulled out a mass of tightly woven mesh straps. “Sometimes, if we have women along, I might ask you to help them get into their gear. If a female seems extremely modest or uneasy, it can be difficult for me or one of the guys to help with the harness...you know...too much touching.”

Libby nodded. “I understand.”

She stared at him intently as he prepared the equipment. Something about her steady regard made the back of his neck tingle. “I’m going to go around the side of that ridge and come out on top,” he said. “That cliff is only about thirty feet high, but it looks really far off the ground when you’re standing up there, particularly if you’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I can imagine.”

He tossed her a thin ground cloth to sit on. “Feel free to relax while I get up there. And you don’t have to worry about ticks or other bugs. It’s still too early for a lot of creepy crawlies.”

* * *

Libby hadn’t been worrying about creepy crawlies, but she was now. Ick. Her legs itched already from the power of suggestion.

If her companion had been any man other than Patrick Kavanagh, she might have assumed he was showing off. He could have explained how the rappelling worked without a demonstration. Maybe he just liked doing it. It was a sure bet he didn’t have any interest in impressing her.

Without Libby to slow him down, he appeared at the top of the small cliff in no time at all. She shaded her eyes and watched as he secured himself to a nearby tree. He checked all of his connections and waved. Then, looking like an extremely handsome and nimble spiderish superhero, he stepped backward off the rock shelf and danced his way to the bottom.

His skill was striking.

Something about a man so physically powerful and at ease with his body was very appealing. For a moment, she thought about other, more primal things he might do exceedingly well...but no. She wouldn’t go there.

Once before when she was young and immature, she’d fallen under the spell of a magnetic, powerful man—with disastrous results. History would not be repeating itself. She was older now, old enough to be tempted. But sex and romance were off the table. Keeping this job had to be her focus.

The demonstration took some time. Once Patrick reached the bottom, he had to go back to the top and untie his ropes.

Finally, he reappeared, striding toward her. She handed him his water. He dropped down beside her, barely breathing heavily, and took long gulps. Already, the sun was sliding lower in the sky, and a chill began to linger in the shadows.

Libby pulled her knees to her chest and linked her arms around her legs. “That was pretty cool. Have you always been fond of the outdoors?”

Patrick wiped the back of his arm across his forehead. “Would you be surprised to know that I worked in advertising for several years in Chicago?”

She gaped at him. “Seriously?”

His smile was self-mocking. “Yes. I loved the competitive atmosphere—stealing big accounts, coming up with the next great ad campaign. Brainstorming with smart, focused, energetic colleagues. It was a great environment for a young man.”

She snorted. “You’re still young.”