Forever Flint

“I’m assuming he got a bigger place because of the half sisters you can’t stand?” Ashlinn couldn’t resist mentioning the obvious.

“Not just for them,” Flint protested halfheartedly. “Rafe got married last Thanksgiving and his wife wanted more room too.” He pulled into the double driveway of a big two-story house. “In addition to the girls, they have two foster kids, little boys, Trent and Tony.”

“They’ve only been married for about eight months and they have four kids living with them?” Ashlinn was impressed. “Your brother sounds wonderful, a guy like my stepdad. It takes a very special kind of man to share his life and his wife, especially with kids who aren’t his own.”

“Yeah.” Flint, who truly loved and admired his brother, felt an ignoble rivalrous niggling as she rhapsodized about Rafe, which was odd, because he was always the one to lead the chorus of praise for Rafe. It was unnerving to consider the possibility that he wanted to hear Ashlinn rave about Flint Paradise. Unnerving and alarming as hell!

And worse was yet to come

Ashlinn was out of the car and halfway to the front door of the house when she noticed that Flint was lagging behind. Quite purposefully, it seemed to her.

“A prisoner on his way to the electric chair probably keeps the same pace you’re doing right now,” she observed dryly, pausing to wait for him to catch up to her.

“I probably should warn you.” Flint cleared his throat.

He arrived to stand beside her, not realizing how closely until their shoulders brushed. It was unlike him to invade someone’s personal space; he normally kept a definitive distance between himself and another. Not this time. When he turned slightly, the entire length of their arms were touching, and his hand skimmed hers.

But Ashlinn made no move away from him. “About what?” she murmured.

Flint remained where he was. He inhaled deeply, and the aroma of her shampoo, a tantalizing spicy scent, filled his nostrils. He fixed his eyes on her glossy black hair that looked so soft and silky it took considerable restraint to keep himself from touching it. Stroking it.

“I guess I should warn you that this might prove to be awkward in more ways than one.” His voice lowered. “You see, there is—something of a strain between Rafe’s wife, Holly, and me.”

Ashlinn looked up at him, her dark eyes illuminated in the bright porch-lights. “Is it her fault? Or yours?”

He was instantly annoyed. “If you’re looking to incriminate someone, don’t choose Holly. She isn’t to blame for anything. I’m the one at fault.” He strode toward the door, his head held high and proud.

“I wasn’t trying to incriminate anybody.” Ashlinn scurried after him. “I was just trying to get a better handle on the situation.”

They reached the small porch. She stumbled as her heel caught on the top step, and automatically, Flint reached out to catch hold of her waist, steadying her. Ashlinn laid her hands on his forearms, bracing herself.

She lifted her head and their eyes met. Their position was not unlike that of a couple on the verge of a kiss, in those first early uncertain seconds of contact before moving into each other’s arms.

Ashlinn’s heartbeat seemed to echo in her ears. “Thanks. I—I’ve been warned that the heels on these boots will end up killing me.”

“They aren’t at all practical.” Flint frowned his disapproval. “Paradise Outdoors would never carry such useless merchandise. Luckily, you’ll get a much better, functional pair of boots tomorrow.”

His fingers tightened briefly on the curve of her waist, then he dropped his hands and stepped away from her, out of touching range.

She could feel the phantom pressure of his hands on her. Ashlinn told herself she wasn’t disappointed, she was relieved he hadn’t tried to kiss her. She wouldn’t have allowed him, of course; after all, she hardly knew him.

But he hadn’t even tried . . .

“You were about to tell me about the—the strain between you and your sister-in-law,” she reminded him.

Her body was still pulsing with the urgency he’d roused—and left unslaked. Had he been affected by their proximity at all? she wondered. Since he’d half turned away from her, she couldn’t clearly observe him. Yet he seemed calm enough. She was the one whose breathing was closer to panting.

Ashlinn looked away from him, forcing herself to study the decorative grapevine wreath on the front door. Red, white and blue ribbons were woven through it, presumably in homage to last week’s Fourth of July holiday.

“About Holly . . .” Flint was struggling with his own urgency and control.

What better way to quell desire than to remember how wrong he’d been about Holly? If he were ever asked to cite his turnoffs, being wrong would head the list.

“I made the drastic mistake of jumping to all the wrong conclusions about Holly when my brother first got involved with her,” he said dolefully. “Unfortunately, I shared my opinions with Rafe and strongly advised him against marrying her.”

“Been there.” Ashlinn gave a rueful sigh. “Done that—twice. I zealously warned both my sister Courtney and my stepsister Michelle not to get involved with the men they ended up marrying.”

“Twice?” repeated Flint.

“I didn’t learn from my mistake the first time.” Ashlinn did not spare herself. “I didn’t let Courtney’s marital success keep me from insisting that Michelle was doomed to misery. I bet if Eva started dating someone seriously, you’d think long and hard about shoving your negative opinions down her throat.”

“Yes,” agreed Flint. “I certainly would.” He couldn’t envision himself making the same mistake twice.

A peculiar sense of relief was surging through him. His gross misjudgment of Holly continued to plague him, but hearing that Ashlinn had fallen prey to similar errors twice was oddly heartening.

“I told Rafe that Holly was a calculating manipulator,” he dared to confess.

Ashlinn remained unshocked. “I told Courtney and Michelle that Connor and Steve were insincere users, the kind of smooth operators who would dump them and break their hearts And both guys turned out to be model husbands and fathers, devoted to their wives and children My stepbrother said I was a sour pessimist and my own brother told me I was jealous of Courtney and Michelle.” She winced.

“Why don’t people appreciate good old-fashioned caution these days? Just try to exercise it, and others completely misunderstand your motives!” Flint was incensed on her behalf. “I’ve only spent a short tune with you, but I can certainly tell that you’re neither sour nor pessimistic.”

“Thanks,” murmured Ashlinn. “I’m not jealous of Courtney and Michelle either. Honest.”

“I believe you.” He took a deep breath. “I originally saw Holly as a schemer with an agenda and thought it was my brotherly obligation to tell Rafe what he was up against.”

“Let me guess what happened,” Ashlinn said wryly. “Holly turned out to be the ideal wife for your brother.”

“She turned out to be a saint!”

Ashlinn smiled at the hyperbole. “You have to be dead to be a saint, Flint, that’s the rule.”

“Well, Holly is a living saint,” Flint insisted. “She’s a doctor, a psychiatrist who’s established a solid practice and is respected and admired by the medical community here. Even more important, she’s made my brother happier than I’ve ever seen him. And she’s committed to those four impossible kids who aren’t even hers.”

“She does sound like a paragon. Seems like you and I have both proven how perceptive we are when it comes to love and romance,” Ashlinn said lightly. “Which is to say, not at all. We’re definitely better off dedicating our energy to our careers.”

“Yes.” Flint nodded his agreement. “But I have to admit that hearing you made the same mistake I did—twice—makes me feel less like a paranoid lunatic.”

Her dark eyes gleamed “If I’m not a sour jealous pessimist, you certainly aren’t a paranoid lunatic.”

They stared at each other, their expressions conveying mutual understanding, mutual acceptance. Both took an unconscious step closer.

“Eewww! Look who’s lurking around our house!” A piercing young voice sharply broke the aura of intimacy enveloping them. Seemingly from nowhere, a Jeep Cherokee had appeared, and emanating from it was that girlish voice of pure disdain.

Flint and Ashlinn jumped apart, almost to opposite ends of the small porch. The vehicle came to a screeching halt m the driveway, the doors were flung open, and two dark-haired girls jumped out.

Ashlinn didn’t have to ask who they were Flint’s face was dark as a thundercloud as he watched his two teenaged half sisters saunter to the door, their young faces surly as they stared from him to Ashlinn.

“Make sure you get your cash from him upfront, honey,” one girl addressed Ashlinn, her tone and her dark eyes insolent. “And I hope you’re up to date on your shots, especially your rabies shot.”

The other one snickered.

“You can apologize to Miss Carey right now, Camryn,” snapped Flint. “And you too, Kaylin.”

“’Cause you told us to?” Camryn laughed. “Yeah, right. That’ll happen.”

She brushed by Ashlinn and Flint and entered the house, her younger sister close on her heels.

Flint automatically moved to follow them inside. The door slammed shut.

“Well, now you’ve met them,” he growled. “Was I exaggerating?”

“I’ve never seen a door literally slammed in someone’s face before,” Ashlinn said uneasily. “Do they do that often?”

He didn’t bother to answer. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Ashlinn wasn’t about to argue. The teenagers couldn’t have made it more clear that she and Flint were unwelcome. And just like he’d said, taking them camping was out of the question. But just as the two turned to leave, the door opened again.

“The girls said you were here, Flint. With a, er, a friend.”

Ashlinn gaped at the man standing in the doorway, whose voice sounded exactly like Flint’s. He looked exactly like Flint, too.

She stared from one brother to the other. If she didn’t know that Flint was wearing the white shirt and khaki trousers, she wouldn’t have been able to distinguish him from the other man, who wore a pair of faded old jeans and no shirt at all. His bare bronze chest shone in the light.

“You’re twins!” she exclaimed, then grinned, unable not to. “I do have a remarkable grasp of the obvious, don’t I?”

“I’m Rafe Paradise.” He extended his hand to her to shake.

She took it and introduced herself while scrutinizing Rafe closely. The resemblance to Flint was uncanny, but on closer inspection, she noticed a few subtle differences. Rafe’s face was more open, his expression friendlier in comparison to Flint, who appeared more guarded and aloof. Rafe’s smiles came more easily; she already knew that Flint’s were rare.

Rare and thrilling, she mused, remembering the potent impact Flint’s smiles had upon her. But Flint was not smiling now.

“We were just leaving, Rafe,” Flint said tersely. “Sorry to have disturbed you this late.”

“It’s my fault,” Ashlinn interjected. “I was the one who insisted on coming.”

Rafe didn’t ask why. “Glad you’re here. Come in.” He cupped Ashlinn’s elbow and ushered her inside, giving her no choice but to accept his invitation. Which gave Flint no choice but to follow them both into the house.

“Holly, we have company,” Rafe called up the stairs.

“The evil twin’s out of his crypt again,” announced Camryn who stood on the stairway, eyeing Flint and Ashlinn. “And he brought the queen of Darkness with him.”

“Be quiet, Camryn!” snapped Flint.

“Camryn, go to your room.” Rafe heaved a sigh. “Now.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice!” Camryn flounced up the stairs.

“I know that little brat thinks she has a genetic right to insult me, but Ashlinn should not have to put up with it’” Flint, standing behind Ashlinn, placed a protective hand on her shoulder. His fingers tightened, drawing her back a little toward him.

“What’s going on?”

Ashlinn turned at the sound and was sure that the tall slim brunette gliding regally down the stairs just had to be Holly, Rafe’s wife. She studied the other woman. Flint had neglected to mention how beautiful his sister-in-law, the doctor, was.

Both Flint and Ashlinn stared at Holly, who was tying a knot in the navy silk belt that matched her robe. Her cheeks were flushed, her brown curls tousled. And then there was Rafe wearing only his—hastily pulled on?—jeans.

Ashlinn gulped. It did look as if they had intruded on a private moment between the couple “We’re so sorry to disturb you.”

Holly and Rafe exchanged quick glances. “We were just watching a movie on TV,” Holly said smoothly and introduced herself to Ashlinn.

“I guess you’re wondering why we’re here,” Flint spoke up. “Ashlinn wanted to know if Camryn and Kaylin could come along on the Paradise Outdoors camping expedition, the one Carmody set up before his skateboard accident.”

Rafe gaped, dumbfounded. “You want them to join you and your girlfriend on. . .”

“She is not my girlfriend!” Flint said vehemently, lifting his hand from Ashlinn’s shoulder as if he’d been scalded. He immediately moved to stand apart from her.

Ashlinn tried to ignore her discomfort. “Can the girls come along?”

“Did you know that Camryn and her friends taught Sam Carmody how to skateboard?” Rafe frowned pensively. “We didn’t like him hanging around with high-school kids and told her to stay away from him. Whether or not she listened is a. . .”

“The girls both have their jobs at the mall,” Holly inserted. “They really can’t leave on such short notice, Flint.”

“So you two are going camping together?” Rafe arched his brows, his expression speculative as he studied Flint and Ashlinn. “Should be an interesting trip. Will you be sharing a tent?” he added, his eyes gleaming, unable to hold back from a little brotherly ribbing.

“It wasn’t planned, it just worked out that way” Flint was immediately defensive. A flush stained his cheeks, turning his skin a deep golden bronze. “This is ridiculous” He snatched Ashlinn’s hand and pushed open the front door. “We’re out of here, right now!” He left the house, dragging Ashlinn along with him.

They got into the car and sped away from the house.

“It wasn’t planned, it just worked out that way?” Ashlinn repeated. Her heart began to pound, fast and loud. “Does that mean I’m actually supposed to share a tent with you?”

“You look panicked at the thought. Fearing for your virtue? Have you bought into Camryn’s evil twin accusations?”

“I’m not panicked and I don’t think you’re evil, but I’m not sharing a tent with you or anyone else. I want my own tent! Since Tour & Travel is paying the expenses, just bill them for an extra tent. Because I will not. . .”

“Relax. I don’t want to share a tent with you either. Asher Carey and I were assigned to share one, but Ms. Ashlinn Carey is definitely getting her own. The extra cost can come out of Junior’s lunch money.”

“You were only joking.” Ashlinn tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her hand was trembling. “I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t.” He was clearly relishing her overreaction. “And I warned you the Paradise clan wasn’t one big happy extended family like yours, but you insisted on meeting the girls. Well, I was right, wasn’t I?” Flint’s voice held an unmistakable ring of triumph.

“Are you one of those annoying types who always have to have the last word?”

“I’m not annoying, but yes, I’ve been told that I do like to have the last word,” he admitted, not at all offended by the charge.

“Ohhhh! These next two weeks are going to be interminable.” Ashlinn was vexed, but more with herself than with him. For there was an unwelcome excitement bubbling inside her that she couldn’t suppress.

“Interminable,” Flint agreed.

But his grim pronouncement was at odds with the slow smile playing across his face.

Three

By the time the Paradise Outdoors expedition arrived in Custer State Park the next afternoon, Ashlinn was uncomfortably aware that she had more in common with Presley Oakes Jr. than with her fellow campers. At least the boy publisher enjoyed city life and had never escaped from a war zone or attempted to climb Mount Everest.

Jack Hall, Etienne Bouvier, Rico Figueroa and Koji Yagano had done all that and much more. They were professional out-doorsmen and adventurers, each with a long resume of successful feats and scrapes with death. In addition to writing about their escapades for their respective magazines, all four were proud contributors to The Most Dangerous Places on the Globe, a book Ashlinn had never heard of.

Flint had.

“The title is self-explanatory. It’s a kind of guidebook for the most dangerous places in the world, destinations that aren’t recommended for travelers,” he explained as he drove the party in an enormous rented van to the park in southwestern South Dakota. Ashlinn was sitting beside him in the front while the other four men sprawled two to a bench in back.

“They are places that definitely aren’t recommended for tourists,” added Jack Hall, his tone and expression making it clear that he considered tourists a threat to the quality of life, much the same as flesh-eating bacteria.

“Your state department forbids you to go to many of the places we’ve been,” Rico Figueroa added enthusiastically.

“Then why go? And why bother with a guidebook for unsafe places?” Ashlinn asked what she considered to be the most obvious questions.

She heard a groan. An impatient sigh. And then silence descended.

Ashlinn chewed her lower lip. She’d done it again; it seemed she had a talent for exasperating this crew.

She cast a glance at Flint. At least he didn’t look exasperated.

Flint caught her eye. “Maybe ‘guidebook’ isn’t the best choice of word. Think reference book instead.”

He’d responded politely to all her questions and remarks when the others wouldn’t, Ashlinn mused gratefully.

“The book is more of an anthology,” Flint continued, filling the silence. “The various contributors write about what they saw and did in dangerous cities and countries all over the world. There are plenty of armchair adventurers who enjoy experiencing danger vicariously.”

“You’re in travel publishing, Ashley, you know that,” chided Jack Hall.

“It’s Ashlinn,” she corrected, not for the first time. “And Tour & Travel features articles on places like Sausalito and Williamsburg. Our readers want amenities and charm, not threats to their lives.”

“But your new publisher is set on changing that,” Flint reminded her.

As if she needed reminding! Ashlinn sighed.

“Custer State Park probably is less dangerous than crossing any street in Paris, but our stay there will be a useful respite,” said Etienne Bouvier. “With no distractions in the evenings, I plan to polish my article on my encounter with headhunters.”

“Before you ask,” Flint murmured under his breath to Ashlinn “He’s not referring to an executive search agency.”

She knew he was kidding and chuckled quietly. “I think they’d throw me out of the van if I asked, even as a joke,” she whispered back. “They take their adventures very seriously.”

“The next two weeks are the equivalent of lying in the sun on a beach, something I rarely do,” piped up Rico. “But I intend to completely relax on this trip.”

“We’re scheduled to rock climb, mountain bike and climb a peak, among other activities,” Ashlinn pointed out, reciting their proposed itinerary from the list she’d been given that morning. “None of that can be termed relaxing.”

For her, just thinking of what lay ahead was fatigue-inducing. The possibility of relaxation during the next two weeks seemed as remote as their campsite.

“I think that climbing Harney Peak, which is 7,242 feet high, might qualify as relaxation compared to the twenty-thousand-some feet they scaled on Everest,” observed Flint.

“I guess when you put it like that . .” Ashlinn’s voice trailed off.

The thought of attempting to climb over seven thousand feet still did not strike her as child’s play. She pictured rocks and falls and broken bones.

“Glad you’re along to translate for the lady, Flint,” Koji said gratefully.

Ashlinn knew he wasn’t referring to language difficulties, because all the men spoke English fluently. Nor was the lack of understanding between her and her fellow campers the result of typical male/female differences so well-documented in the pop psychology books proliferating on bookstore shelves.

No, she and the four international risk takers were like creatures from separate universes with absolutely no common frame of reference. She found their bold mindset, their casual bravado, so incomprehensible that even small talk posed a difficulty. Since they’d met this morning, she’d invariably said the wrong thing, irking or boring the four happy wanderers.

But as Koji had mentioned, Flint was proving valuable as a translator cum peacemaker, interpreting her to the men and vice versa. Though he hadn’t risked his life on seven continents, somehow, fortunately, he was able to relate both to those who had and to Ashlinn.

“Since she’s offering no fringe benefits, we’re grateful you don’t mind baby-sitting her, Flint,” said Jack Hall in a relieved better-you-than-me tone.

Ashlinn couldn’t let that remark go unchallenged. “That crack about fringe benefits is too low to dignify with a rejoinder, and I don’t need a baby-sitter!”

The four men laughed, as if she’d told a hilarious joke.

“You need a baby-sitter a helluva lot more than we need a guide, chica,” said Rico. “The four of us have had more than enough experience to be on our own in a state park in South Dakota. You can’t say the same.”

More hearty macho laughter. More stories of being held at gunpoint, of drinking snake blood, of bribing their way in and out of the hellholes of the world while loving every minute of it.

Ashlinn leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, pretending she’d nodded off to sleep. She had already had enough interaction with her campmates. Two whole weeks with them loomed like an eternity.

It seemed ironic that last night, she had been apprehensive about spending the next two weeks with Flint. Who could have guessed that today she would consider him the closest thing she had to a friend and ally?

But it was true. Flint was courteous, treating her as an equal member of the expedition, not an unwelcome pest. The same couldn’t be said for the others in the group.

Ashlinn’s mind drifted back to her meeting with them this morning, after her predawn trip to Paradise Outdoors’ company headquarters with Flint. To the fateful moment when she’d informed the men that she not only wasn’t a good cook, but her campfire cuisine was even worse than her everyday efforts.

“But cooking is what women are created for!” Rico exclaimed, shocked.

Ashlinn had felt obliged to offer a rebuttal. What woman wouldn’t? But Flint had caught her hand, pulling her out of earshot of the group.

“For the sake of congeniality, I recommend just letting that one pass,” he suggested quietly.

“But he just relegated women back to the Stone Age!” objected Ashlinn. “On behalf of women everywhere, I. . .”

“You can talk till you’re hoarse, but you’ll never convince him otherwise. Anyway, the men agreed to do the cooking for themselves,” Flint pointed out. “You won’t be slaving over a hot campfire, except to make your own meals. Can’t you view that as a victory on behalf of women everywhere?”

“I guess so.” Ashlinn was very aware that Flint was still holding her hand. A small shiver rippled along her spine.

“Cooking isn’t the only thing women are good for,” Bouvier had interjected, his eyes raking Ashlinn’s trim blue-jeaned figure. “Don’t forget about sex.”

“As if we ever could!” Jack Hall had laughed rakishly “Maybe you’ll share your tent with one of us, lovely lady? Or all of us, if the gods are smiling”