Date with a Single Dad: Millionaire Dad's SOS / Proud Rancher, Precious Bundle / Millionaire Dad: Wife Needed

‘You’re here to train your next crew?’ she said, mostly to herself.

‘Beautiful and brainy. Who knew?’

Zach tugged on one of her plaits, shot her a grin that was complete with the glint that made her common sense unceasingly fall to pieces, pulled his cap lower over his face then jogged ahead.

With the words beautiful and brainy ringing in her ears, she stared at his back until he was swallowed by the forest.

Amazing. He was well over six feet tall, with skin like bronze and the build of a world-class athlete, yet he clearly had no clue that was why half the people in the group would be wondering who he was. It wouldn’t matter if she was sitting in his lap or a million miles away.

Meg hitched her shiny new Juniper Falls backpack into a more comfy position on her shoulders, took one last glance back at the empty path, then followed on as the group turned off the running track.

They soon found a network of wide wooden walkways with the kind of gentle slope built to accommodate every level of trail rambler and Meg was truly surprised to soon find herself contentedly lost in the rhythmic pace of her feet.

Before long they were ushered through a gap in the railing as they headed off the main tourist trail. The path became instantly less clear-cut, less regularly tramped, and the gentle path gave way to one in which they had to walk single file, at times grasping at vines to pull themselves up the face of a steep rise.

Sweat dripped down the sides of Meg’s face, down her spine and behind her knees. She could feel spirals of her hair plastered against her cheeks and the back of her neck. When she licked her lips she could taste salt. She gave up trying to hear the guide over her laboured breathing and just climbed.

Meg wasn’t sure if she’d picked up her pace or Zach had slowed, but somehow right when she needed leverage to step over a particularly slippery-looking rock as she picked a path across a slow-moving stream, his hand was there to help her leap across to the opposite bank.

‘Thanks,’ she said, her voice rough from lack of use. ‘Are we there yet?’

From her view of his profile she caught his smile, this one complete with eye crinkles. Her heart skipped a beat, which, considering her fitness level and the uneven ground, was not smart.

‘Not far now,’ he said, his voice as clear as if he’d been standing still the past half-hour.

‘If I have a complaint do I really have to write to management?’

‘Hit me. I can take it.’

‘Are the super-early starts entirely necessary?’

The smile spread to laughter as though it was the most natural thing for him to do. ‘The days get hot very quickly around here.’

‘I’m not sure I believe that makes a lick of difference to your sadistic timetable planners.’

The eye crinkles deepened. ‘That’s because you’re too smart for your own good.’

‘Mmm. So does that mean you actually believe in the stuff you’re spouting? Inner health, inner happiness and all that.’

His eye crinkles faded as he gave her question consideration. The guy listened, seriously listened, to what she had to say. Most men in his position patted her on the head as if she were a clever puppy before deferring to her brothers, not caring that she might be a woman with ideas and opinions and more street smarts than they had in their little fingers. No wonder she was finding it harder and harder to pull herself away from this one.

He said, ‘I believe that what you put into your life is what you get out of it. Treat it well, it’ll treat you well. Surround yourself only with positive people and they’ll affect your life positively. Fill your body and your mind with rubbish and rubbish is all you can ever hope to be.’

Meg let those pearls sink in and then kind of wished she hadn’t asked. Because it shed a new light on how she must have appeared to others. And to him.

She attended parties to keep her profile current, so that meant she was a party girl. Nothing deeper. Nothing more. And it was entirely her own doing.

She kept hush-hush the best parts of herself; the truth about the number of women at the Valley Women’s Shelter she’d secretly helped over the years. That way nobody knew the real her. Not her family. Not even her friends.

For years she’d thought she had the best of both worlds—public affection and private fulfilment. But Zach’s words made her wish someone knew. They made her wish he knew. The urge to just blurt it all out then and there was a powerful thing.

But then what? He was too perceptive. He’d wonder why she needed to spend time with battered women and displaced children in particular, and why she’d even hidden the fact in the first place.

Nah. Better to keep things as they were. Best not to discover people might only be attracted to the light, bright, amusing, easily palatable version of herself. Zach included. She wasn’t sure she was prepared to know the answer to that one.

Realising the silence was stretching on far too long, she forced a dazzling party-girl smile and said, ‘So you are what you eat?’

His cheek lifted. ‘In not so many words.’

‘By that logic if I go home right now and marinate myself in chocolate and red wine, then at the very least I’ll die tasty.’

He laughed softly, before saying, ‘You can’t argue with logic.’

Meg’s breath caught in her throat. He’d just had to go and use the last words she’d said to him before they’d kissed, hadn’t he? Her heart beat double time. She breathed deep to control it before she keeled over.

Perhaps he hadn’t realised what he’d said, because he just turned and followed the group. Or perhaps the kiss hadn’t affected him nearly as much as it had affected her.

Good, she thought. Fantastic even. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Now they were descending again. Single file. Meg was caught behind Zach, so naturally while she ought to have been watching her feet she watched him instead. The spring of curls against his tanned neck. The athletic ease with which he strode the trail.

Surely he’d felt something when they’d kissed. She’d felt magic.

When her foot half missed a stepping stone, she stumbled and caught hold of his backpack for support.

‘You okay back there?’ he asked, snapping a hand behind him to cradle her hip.

She closed her eyes against the flow of feeling rushing through her that felt more tangible and immediate than mere magic. ‘Mostly.’

‘Take my shoulders.’

‘Why?’ she asked.

He glanced up at her, his dark eyes shadowed beneath his cap. And she was certain his voice dropped a note or two when he said, ‘Because it only gets riskier from here.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, her voice husky.

‘Meg—’

‘I’m not completely inept, you know. I may not know which direction I’m heading, but I can put one foot in front of the other without falling flat on my face.’ Most of the time. ‘I can do this on my own.’

Ignoring her outburst, Zach simply took her by the waist and physically lifted her and placed her to the left of the path so that those behind her could get past.

Once they were alone with their group bundling down the descent in front of them, Zach said, ‘Relax, Meg. I’m not offering you anything more than a hand down the mountain.’

Meg swallowed, the lack of saliva making her throat scratch so she winced. His dark eyes slid down her face to rest on her lips. His grip tightened. Infinitesimally. And she felt in his touch the same confusion of want and restraint surging through her body.

Triumph coursed through her. He’d felt every bit of enchantment in that kiss that she had.