Page 13 of Edge of Ruin (The Edge Trilogy #3)

Chapter Ten

Vivi

I was deeply absorbed in making a list of all the furniture I wanted. A bed, a couch, a coffee table, a bookcase. A nice rug. A dresser, a floor lamp. A spice rack, by God. Such a luxury, to hang clothes in a closet. To stick a fun magnet over a favorite photo onto the fridge.

The knock on the door made me jump. “Who is it?” I called.

“It’s me.” His deep voice made the entire surface of my skin tingle madly. I braced myself as I opened the door.

Jack stood there, holding a tray of tiny, feathery green seedlings. I gazed at them, utterly confused. Then he just handed the tray to me. “These are for you,” he said.

“For me?” I repeated stupidly.

“Eranthis hyemalis,” he said. “Winter Aconite. I saw some, at the nursery. I thought of you. They’re not blooming now, of course, and it’s late to plant them, but what the hell, we can give it a try.

They like well-drained soil, and lots of shade.

We can set them out beneath those big oaks over at the far side of the lawn. If you want.”

I closed my open mouth. “Ah … wow. I, uh?—”

“If we get lucky, they’ll multiply. Make a floral carpet.”

I was so charmed, I felt my face heat up and my throat clutch. “That is so sweet of you,” I said.

He shrugged. “I’m sorry. I was a jerk today. And last night.”

The heat in my face and throat spread, a soft, warm glow. It felt good.

He stepped in the door as I laid the seedlings on the kitchen counter. “Do you want to go to the hot springs now?”

Hoo, boy. Nothing had changed, even if he had apologized, I reminded myself.

Going to a beautiful remote place to sit in a pool of hot water all alone with this man was a dumb idea.

And the fact that he was acting sweet was all the more reason to stay away.

“I don’t know much about plants,” I stalled, stroking a tender frond.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll show you,” he said. “So? Are you coming?”

“Yes,” I heard myself say, sealing my own doom.

“Let’s go.” He started down the stairs, Edna scrambling after him.

“Wait. You mean, right now? This minute? Don’t we need towels, bathing suits? Anything?”

“Bring what you want, but be sure to wear jeans. The poison oak is thick.”

“One minute.” I closed the door, shucked my clothes, and pulled on my battered old one-piece.

I yanked my clothes on over it, tossed a towel over my shoulder, marveling at myself.

About to bounce off to do the stupidest thing I’d ever deliberately done, and I could barely breathe, I was so freaking excited.

As he had warned me, the path was difficult.

We hopped boulders upstream through the rushing river for about a mile or so, until sheer cliffs began to rise from the swift greenish glacial-melt water.

Then I followed Jack up a steep gully and into a thicket of dense bushes, clambering up one steep hill and down another, through a narrow cleft between two towering boulders, under the draped fronds of a blackberry bush.

A tendril snarled into my hair. I was struggling to untangle it when he suddenly appeared beside me.

He took the long, thorny vine in his hand.

I stared at the hollow at the base of his throat.

He was so warm, and he smelled so good. My body ached to know the sensation of leaning against that solid chest.

What would I do if he made a move on me? Flirted with me? Kissed me?

Oh, please. Duh. Like there was any question at all. I would jump all over him. Eat him for lunch. Climb him like a tree. Get real.

He let go of the lock of hair, laying it over my shoulder. He turned without saying a word and started to climb. I scrambled after him, relief warring with disappointment.

The path merged with a smaller streambed from the hillside above that had carved a gully leading down to the river.

The walls of the gully were steep, the rocks covered with moss, thick with wild mint and luxuriant, spotted yellow flowers with heavy heads like snapdragons, and tufts of fragrant wild mint.

I picked my way from boulder to boulder, Edna splashing ahead of me.

At the mouth of the spring, Jack pointed upriver.

“Look there, past that tall rock,” he said. “See them?”

My eyes followed his hand, and I saw several pools, sunken into the huge, flat gray rocks of the riverbank. They were surrounded by the nodding yellow flowers and mint.

The last rays of sun that still managed to slant into the river canyon lit up the water, brightening the multicolored pebbles, making the sand glitter like gold. Faint curls of steam rose from the water. The river rushed noisily by a few yards away. He watched my face intently. “Like it?” he asked.

I looked around, enchanted. “Oh, my God. It’s superb.”

My delight was shattered when I realized that Jack had stripped off his shirt and was unbuckling his belt. Oh, God. Jack Kendrick fully clothed was already too much voltage for me to handle. Jack Kendrick naked would blow my fuses all to hell.

“Hey, you! Just wait a damn second!” I said sharply.

His hands stopped on his waistband. “Yeah?”

“Are you wearing swimming trunks?”

“No. Don’t think I even own any. It’s not an item that I’ve ever needed.” He waited patiently as I took this in.

“I’m, ah, not comfortable with that,” I said, my voice sounding so prissy and prim to my own ears. “Things are already funny between us. I’d rather not, uh ...”

“See me stark naked,” he finished.

I blew out a sharp, nervous sigh. “Right on, buddy.”

“Do you want me to leave? Can you find your way back alone?”

Ow. That would be so flat. So blah. I absolutely did not want him to leave.

Damn, I didn’t know what I wanted. I wanted the situation to be different. I wanted the world to be different. I wanted for him to be different. I wanted ... aw, shit. I wanted something that I could not have.

I wanted him to want me. The real me, Vivi D’Onofrio, in all my glory. The whole damn tattooed, itinerant, wild child, complicated, prickly package.

It was too extravagant a thing to hope for. Besides being inappropriate, silly, and way too soon. For Pete’s sake, I’d just met the guy the day before.

I just had so much intense, scary emotion about sex backed up in my system now. After six years of celibacy, anyone would be climbing the freaking walls.

And I had Brian to thank for that, too. Jerk-off butthead that he was.

“No, don’t leave,” I murmured, abashed. “Can’t you just, um, keep your underwear on?”

His lips twitched, making me feel foolish. “Yeah, whatever,” he said. “If it really bothers you.”

He pulled off his jeans, revealing simple white cotton briefs. The muscles in his torso were finger-licking delicious. Luxurious curling dark hair tapered down to his belly and turned into a furry mat that disappeared into his underwear. He had incredible glutes, and powerful thighs.

Damn. I might not survive this visual sensory experience even if Kendrick did keep his underwear on.

He stepped into the water, descending until he sat in the pool cross-legged, clouds of glittering sand wafting up from the bottom to swirl and turn in the water, glinting in the sunlight.

The water reached to his collarbone. He leaned against the rim of the pool and closed his eyes.

A nice show of delicacy while I undressed.

He was in perfect gentleman mode now—but I knew his tricks.

If I relaxed and let down my guard for so much as one instant, he’d have me in a lathered state in minutes.

I pulled off my jeans and t-shirt, wishing my bathing suit were less thin and worn, and stepped into the water. It was deliciously hot. Like an enormous, full-body kiss. A sprig of mint dangled over my shoulder, brushing my cheek. I was blushing furiously.

“Why are you blushing?” His voice was silky, amused.

“The water is hot,” I snapped. “And how did you know that with your eyes closed, anyway? That’s sneaky and underhanded. Either they are open or they are closed. Do not peek.”

He smiled briefly and made no reply.

We sat, listening to the river rushing by, for a very long time. He kept his eyes closed until it felt almost as if he were trying to hide from me.

I wanted him to reveal something about himself. I’d bared my soul in the restaurant the night before, so he owed me some freaking personal history, too. At least the basics.

“So nudity doesn’t embarrass you?” I asked.

“I grew up around people who weren’t embarrassed about it. The aftermath of the sexual revolution, I guess. They let it all hang out.”

Interesting factoid, that. I pinched off a mint leaf and chewed it, letting the fresh, clean flavor clear my head.

Jack dunked his head under the water and smoothed his hair back from his square forehead, and I noticed once again the white streak of the scar that disappeared into his hairline. “How’d you get that scar?” I asked.

He didn’t open his eyes. “Long story.”

“I’m not in a hurry,” I said.

His forehead contracted, and then he wiped his face clean of expression once again. “Another time.”

I plucked another mint sprig. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay. Talk all you want. Just don’t expect me to be scintillating when I respond. Or even coherent.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

He opened his eyes, and looked at me, with that bright, clear, wolfish gaze that made shivers of delicious terror race through me.

“I can’t concentrate,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I can barely hear you talk. All I can hear is my own heart pounding.”

The flat statement hung between us. The force of his gaze burned against my face. I closed my eyes, counted to ten.

I opened them. Looked at him. A lock of hair was clinging to his forehead. A drop of water rolled down his cheek. I leaned forward and touched it with my fingertip. His face was so hot, his wet skin so resiliant, velvety.

He caught my wrist in his hand and pulled, very gently. Enough to make me float effortlessly, inevitably closer to him, unless I put up some resistance. I didn’t.