Page 36 of Wrecked on the Mountain

"Come here," he says softly.

I stand and he wraps the robe around me, his hands linger on my shoulders as he adjusts the collar, his fingertips brushing against my collarbone with deliberate gentleness. The weight of his touch sends a cascade of warmth through my body, like three space heaters humming through my veins.

"Better?" he asks, blue eyes sparkling down at me.

He's close enough that I can smell his aftershave, see the concern in his eyes as he checks to make sure I'm warm enough.

"Much." I can't stop smiling. "You know, that wasn't nearly as terrible as I expected."

"Told you I'd take care of you," he says, his hands moving to rub warmth back into my arms through the robe. "And we raised a lot of money by the sounds of it."

"That's fantastic. I'm glad it was worth it. And I have to admit…" I take a breath and smile. "Now that it's done… that was kind of fun."

Jamie grins and suddenly we're standing so close that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. His hands are still rubbing warmth into my arms, but the movements have slowed, become more deliberate.

More... intimate.

Those devastating blue eyes are darker now, studying my face like he's memorizing every detail.

And there's something different in his expression.

Like the teasing confidence he usually has is slowly transforming into something deeper… like he has something he wants to say.

Then his gaze drops to my mouth and I can barely breathe.

"Brooke," he says quietly, his voice rougher now.

There's a muscle ticking in his jaw, like he's fighting some internal battle, and when he steps closer my heart starts pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it.

"Happy birthday."

The words hit me like another shock of icy cold water. I stare at him, speechless, because how could he possibly know?

"How did you—"

"Small town," he says with a smile. "Martha's very thorough with her paperwork. Your employment file had your birth date."

"I didn't tell anyone," I whisper.

"I know." He smiles down at me, taking another step closer so our bodies are practically touching. "But you should have. In my team, birthdays are supposed to be celebrated."

"I don't usually—"

"If you'd met me at the sunrise spot like I hoped you would," he continues, eyes locked on my lips, "maybe your present would have been different."

My heart starts pounding.

"What kind of different?" I ask.

He smirks, and instead of answering, he reaches up to cup my face in his hands. His palms are warm against my cheeks, and when his thumb brushes across my lower lip, I can't suppress the small gasp that escapes.

"Tomorrow morning," he says, his voice low and rough. "Sunrise. Will you meet me there?"

"Yes," I whisper without hesitation.

"Good." He leans closer, and I can feel his breath against my lips. "Because I've been wanting to do this since the first day I saw you."

He leans down and captures my lips with his, and it's like being plunged into warm water after the cold. A complete shock of heat and sensation makes every nerve ending sing in my body.