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Much the same way he’d avoided Deanie.
She’d caught up with him, however, and confirmed what he’d started to suspect months before, when he’d come home to mend after breaking his leg en route to an alligator wrestling competition in Australia. Namely that she no longer carried a torch for him.
As owner and spokesperson for Extreme Dream, the South’s largest chain of extreme sporting goods stores, Rance competed in everything from snowboarding to offtrack dirt bikes. He’d skiied down the Riviera, base-jumped off the Empire State Building and parasailed over piranha-infested waters off the coast of Thailand.
Scary stuff, but not half as frightening as meeting up with Deanie, and so Rance had kept his return a secret from any and everyone.
At least he’d tried.
But then a sudden craving for something sweet had forced him to make a midnight run to the local diner. Word had traveled in the time it had taken to eat one slice of Miss Mona’s unforgettable cherry pie and he’d been screwed.
Or so he’d thought.
But in the days that had followed, Deanie had made no attempt to contact him.
Until the wedding.
She’d spotted him and he’d spotted her. They’d exchanged the usual pleasantries. And then…
Nada.
No stealing glances at him during the ceremony. No bugging him to dance at the reception. No following him home with his favorite pepperoni and jalapeno pizza. No showing up on his doorstep with his favorite silver dollar blueberry pancakes the next morning. No inviting him to the local Friday night football game or Saturday bingo or Sunday morning church.
That had been a week ago. The longest week of his life. He hadn’t slept. He’d barely eaten. He’d spent his time thinking. Worrying. Wondering. What the hell had happened?
Suddenly, his gaze collided with a pair of sizzling blue eyes fringed in dark black lashes. Her eyebrows were drawn together, her full, pink lips pulled into a tight frown. Her shoulders were rigid, her movements stiff as she sidestepped in front of the seat next to her and stepped purposely into the aisle.
She looked ready to explode, and not in an orgasmically good way.
That’s it, buddy. She’s over you. And once she gets in touch with her sexuality at Camp E.D.E.N., she’ll be on to bigger and better things and she’ll really be over you.
His gut tightened and it took all of his effort to keep the smile on his face from hardening into a frown. So she wasn’t tagging along after him like she used to? It didn’t mean she wasn’t still wildly attracted to him.
She still wanted him, all right.
He knew it. He felt it.
Even if she was doing a damned fine job of hiding it.
Remember your objective—intercept and turnaround.
While Deanie had every right to lead her own life the way she saw fit, her older brothers felt differently, particularly Rance’s longtime friend and best bud, Clay. The man was frantic. Not because his baby sister couldn’t make her own decisions and switch jobs, or even cities, if she felt like it.
But enrolling in a sex camp?
Clay had been ready to follow her himself, despite the fact that he was going to be a father any minute. But then Rance had shown up and volunteered for the job.
“You don’t have time for this.”
He could still hear Shank Murphy when Rance had dialed him up en route to the airport. Shank was the chief marketing director for Extreme Dream and Rance’s business partner. He’d had a fit when Rance had told him that he wouldn’t be flying back to Austin today because he had to do a favor for an old friend.
“You have to come back today. You’ve got to pick up your gear and catch a plane tomorrow in order to make personal appearances for the upcoming competition.”
“Pack and ship my gear and I’ll pick it up when I get there.”
“Tomorrow. You have to leave tomorrow. I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing.”
“I’ll be there.”
Which meant he had twenty-four hours to talk some sense into one very stubborn Deanie Codge.
He’d wanted to sling her over his shoulder and haul her off the plane the moment he’d set eyes on her, but that would have just made her mad. He didn’t want her mad. Mad meant stubborn, which meant she would do anything just to spite him. Including booking herself on the next flight out the minute his back was turned. No, he wanted her stuck so that she would have no choice but to listen to reason.
A sex camp, of all things. While the setup had looked respectable enough when he and Clay had looked it up on the Internet, Rance could only imagine what really went on at a place like that.
In fact, he’d spent the better part of the cab ride to the airport imagining it, and so he’d been pretty worked up before he’d seen her board the plane in her skimpy dress and do-me high heels.
Seeing her up close and personal, smelling the sweet sent of vanilla and sugar that still clung to her, hearing the slight breathlessness in her voice when she spoke worked him up even more. He knew then as he stared up at her that he wasn’t just here because of his friendship with Clay.
Deanie had been the one constant in his life. The one person he could count on to always be there. The one person who’d really liked him. The one person who’d cared.
The only person.
She couldn’t not be attracted to him anymore.
Particularly since he was about to bust his pants at the sight of her.
He tamped down his lust, shifted in his seat and put on his game face.
“Hey, there, Teeny.” He grinned when she reached him. “Fancy meeting you here.”
She glared down at him. “I’m going to kill you. First I’m going to shoot you, then I’m going to skin your sorry hide, and then I’m going to hang what’s left for the buzzards.”
“Careful with the sweet talk.” He winked. “Otherwise, I’m liable to think you’ve still got the hots for me.”
Her eyes softened and he knew then that she wasn’t as immune to him as she pretended to be. But then her expression hardened again. “In your dreams.”
He grinned, slow and sure. “Amen.”
AMEN?
As in he actually dreamed about her?
Deanie entertained the possibility for several fast, furious heartbeats before reminding herself that this was Rance McGraw.
As in the Rance McGraw who’d never so much as glanced her way romantically while growing up.
As in the Rance McGraw who’d turned her down cold the night she’d offered her body to him.
“I can’t do it,” he’d told her.
Unfortunately, rumor said he’d done it with every cheerleader who’d shaken a pair of pompoms his way and so Deanie knew that it wasn’t so much the fact that he couldn’t do it, but that he couldn’t do it with her.
Or rather, he wouldn’t.
Because Deanie hadn’t been a cheerleader. Or a twirler. Or even a pep squad member. Heck, she hadn’t been a member of anything except the auto shop club and she’d only joined that because her brother, Clay, had served as president to earn extra credit in shop class. He’d promised to rally for the club and boost its membership, and so he’d recruited his best friend, Rance, to help him. That had been enough incentive for Deanie and she’d gladly forked over two dollars in dues and worked her buns off to help Clay pass his senior elective.
Clay.
The name stuck in her head and Rance’s sudden appearance started to make sense. Her brother had a wife who was nine months pregnant. He couldn’t come running after her. So he’d asked his oldest friend to do it for him.
“Clay put you up to this, didn’t he?” she asked with tight lips.
“Up to what?”
“This.” She gestured around. “You’re following me.”
“You’re the one who came to me, Teeny. I don’t recall jumping out of my seat to walk over to you.”
“You know what I mean.”
He gave her a wide-eyed look that might have hinted at innocence if the Devil himself hadn’t danced in the bright gold depths of his eyes. “I don’t have a clue.”
“Okay, if you’re not following me, then what are you doing?”
He held up a bag of pretzels. “Just having a damned fine snack, darlin’.”
She ignored the shiver that rippled through her at the endearment. “I mean, what are you doing on this plane? On this flight?”
He winked. “I’m on my way to camp.”
“ You’re going to Camp E.D.E.N.?”
“Sure am.”
“But why? It’s a…” The word sex stalled on the tip of her tongue and her mouth went dry. She swallowed. “It’s not the sort of place you would want to go.”
“Actually, I think it’s exactly the sort of place I’d want to go.”
“Why? Because you need sex lessons?”
“I was thinking I could give a few.”
“You’re going as an instructor?”
He must have read the disbelief in her voice because his grin faltered just a little. “I’m truly hurt, Teeny, that you don’t think I have anything to offer by way of sexual expertise.” He stared up at her, into her, and his gaze added, I seem to recall a time when you felt completely different.
“You already have a job,” she said, eager to ignore the sudden memory that rushed at her. Of a moonlit creek bank and a desperately hopeful girl and… Uh, uh. She wasn’t going there.
Not now. Not ever again.
“This is just a little side project to break the monotony. I need some variety in my life.”
“You’re an extreme sports fanatic. Your life is nothing but variety.”
“Too much of anything can become routine.” He winked. “Say, maybe you’ll end up in one of my classes.”
It took everything she had not to give in to the sudden shiver that raced through her at the prospect.
First off, if he were an actual instructor, she wouldn’t get lucky enough to wind up in his class. Second, she knew full well that Camp E.D.E.N. only employed educated professionals. While Rance had the experience and know-how, he didn’t have a Ph.D. in sex education. Which meant he’d cooked up the story to cover the real reason for his presence.
Clay.
She planted her hands on her hips. “If Clay thinks I’m going to change my mind just because you’re here, he can think again. I’m going to Eden.”
“Then so am I.” He grinned. “After all, duty calls.”
SHE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN better than to leave a note.
Deanie spent the entire trip to Miami mentally kicking her own ass for being so stupid. But she hadn’t wanted Clay to worry. Unfortunately, she hadn’t wanted to lie to him, either, and so she was stuck with Rance for the entire flight.
It was bad enough that he sat just a few rows behind and she had to hear his voice. But what made things worse was that she could feel him. Her nerves tingled, her hands shook and her heart pounded with awareness. She tried to talk to Savannah, but the woman was more interested in taking a nap before they arrived. Likewise, Mavoreen was snoring away in the row in front. Deanie was left with her magazines.
Unfortunately, makeup and clothes and Fifty Ways to Make Your Man Say Wow wasn’t enough to distract her from the knowledge that he was there.
Behind her.
Watching her.
Even more, Rance himself reminded her every hour or so by heading to the men’s restroom near the cockpit. On his way back to his seat, he made it a point to meet and hold her gaze. And he grinned at her. And forced her heartbeat faster with the twinkle in his eyes. She couldn’t help but feel like the last barbecue rib at an Elks luncheon, and Rance was one hungry Elk.
Right.
No way did Rance actually hunger for her.
She told herself that as they flew the hundreds of miles to Miami, and she actually believed it by the time the plane touched down to pick up more passengers. But then they took off again and he made another bathroom trip, and the way he looked at her sparked the thought all over again.
Maybe he was telling the truth.
Maybe fate had orchestrated this chance meeting. Maybe they’d been thrown together so that their unspent lust for one another could be rekindled. At least her own would be rekindled. He hadn’t carried a torch for her back then, so his lusty fire would have just ignited at the sight of her. Maybe he’d realized what he’d been missing all these years and he would do any and everything to make it up to her.
Forget Mavoreen. Deanie was the seriously delusional one.
He was following her, checking up on her, plain and simple. Reason told her as much.
If only Rance didn’t keep stirring her doubt with his sexy-enough-to-be-a-sex-instructor grin.
Thankfully, the trip from Miami to Escapades Island was short. The Fasten Seat Belt light stayed on the entire time so Rance stayed in his seat. And Deanie managed to shake the whole attraction/fate theory.
