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He shrugged. “Anywhere the job or the mood took me.”
That sounded like heaven. She and Russell had intended to work their way around the country when he’d gotten out of the service, but his death on his last mission had derailed their plans.
The remainder of the meal passed with nothing but the sound of some small animal foraging for food in the background interrupted by an occasional jet overhead. After he’d packed away the dishes he extracted graham crackers, chocolate bars and marshmallows from his backpack along with a couple of skewers.
The ingredients looked familiar. “You’re making s’mores?”
“It’s a tradition. My brothers and I used to make them whenever we camped here.”
An image of him as a gangly kid chipped away at her dislike. “I haven’t had s’mores in a long time.”
She focused on his hands as he skewered the marshmallows then roasted them over the fire. His weren’t the pampered hands of a pencil-pushing millionaire. Small scars marred the tanned flesh and his palms had calluses. The imperfections didn’t fit with the Cadillac-driving, Tag Heuer watch-wearing, swaggering image she had of him from yesterday. “What do you do when you’re not killing time in Aspen, Gavin?”
“I’m a construction engineer.”
She’d been wrong. He wasn’t a man of leisure, and an engineer had to be smart despite the evidence to the contrary of his bringing her here to freeze her fanny off. But now that she considered it, she wasn’t all that cold with the warmth of the fire in front of her and the outcropping of rocks behind her to block the wind.
But his occupation told her nothing about why he’d be interested in her grandfather or the Snowberry Inn. “Working on what?”
“Bridges, dams, mines, buildings. I go wherever the project sounds the most interesting.”
“You love your job.” The enthusiasm in his tone gave it away.
“I never wanted to do anything else.”
“Then I can see why being grounded here for a year must be hard.” He had the world waiting for him.
“I’ll survive it.” He sandwiched a gooey semi-melted marshmallow and a piece of chocolate between two crackers and offered it to her.
She took it, bit into the crisp crackers and chewed, savoring the rush of memories the sweet treat brought back. She and her grandmother had made s’mores often. “Okay, I have to admit, I was skeptical about your picnic, but this was a good idea. It’s beautiful up here.”
“It’s better at night when you can see the stars.” He took a bite of his dessert.
“It’s a little late in the season for that with the night temperatures in the single digits.” She licked a sticky bit from her lip. “You still haven’t told me what my grandfather has that you want.”
“This.” His gesture encompassed the area around them.
A tiny dot of chocolate clung to the corner of his mouth. She had a weird urge to reach out and wipe it away with a fingertip. Or her tongue. Shocked by the errant thought, she averted her gaze and rescanned the setting rather than focus on that strangely tempting spot. “And what is ‘this’ exactly?”
“Five acres surrounded by Jarrod territory and a defunct silver mine started by one of my ancestors before Aspen was founded.”
When she looked back, the tempting daub of chocolate was gone, thank goodness. “Pops owns this land? But you said something about a poker bet.”
“Henry won the plot and the mineral rights from my grandfather fifty years ago. I want both back.”
“That’s all? Just this land? If he sells it to you, you’ll leave him alone?”
He picked up a stick and poked the fire, avoiding her gaze—exactly the way her grandfather had. “Yes.”
She didn’t believe him. Cradling the now-empty mug of coffee in her hands she searched his tense face. “And what do you want from me? Do you expect me to convince Pops to sell it to you?”
“We’ve already agreed on the terms.”
Something didn’t add up. “If Pops has already promised to give you what you want, then why am I here, Gavin?”
Silent seconds stretched between them. “Because I want you, Sabrina Taylor. And you want me, too.”
Her stomach swooped and burned in a way that had nothing to do with the spicy chili or the gooey, yummy dessert. Denial galloped in, making her heart pound like stampeding horses. “You’re mistaken.”
His teeth flashed in a brief, but predatory smile. “One of these days you’ll learn I rarely refuse a challenge. Looks like I’m going to have to prove you wrong.”
He hooked a hand behind her nape and pulled her forward, covering her mouth with his.
Three
Gavin took advantage of Sabrina’s surprise-parted lips to sweep his tongue across the slick surface of hers. Her squeak of protest filled his mouth, but before he could force himself to let her go, her shocked stiffness eased and the hands she’d planted on his chest flexed into his coat, anchoring him. His heart pounded approval.
He hadn’t expected a deal with the devil to taste this good, but the combination of sweet dessert, spicy chili and hot woman hit him like a prizefighter’s right hook, making his head spin.
God help him, he wanted Sabrina in a way he shouldn’t want a woman being forced down his throat as part of a business deal, but they had something between them, and while the chemistry might be temporary, it was damned impressive and worth exploring.
She returned his kiss, tentatively at first, with soft flutters of her lips against his, then with increasing pressure and hunger. Her hand slid upward until her short nails teased the underside of his jaw. Her fingertips were cool against his overheated skin, but her kisses burned hot. He snaked an arm around her waist and tugged her forward onto her knees. She leaned against him, her weight supported on his chest, her hands braced on his shoulders, digging into his muscles.
Cursing the insulating layers between them as their tongues tangled and their breaths mingled, he deepened the kiss, tunneling his fingers into her curls, surprised to find the coils soft instead of wiry. He couldn’t get enough. Air or her. His body steamed inside his coat. Skin against skin would be good right about now. He reached for the zipper tab under her chin.
She gasped, pushed his hand away and jerked back, falling onto her butt. Eyes wide with horror, her breath panting as rapidly as his made clouds in the air between them. She scooted away on the blanket and pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “What was that?”
“Proof,” was all he could force out. Her taste lingered on his damp lips, making him ache to tug her down on the blanket and cover her body with his.
Her dazed expression morphed into disbelief. “Proof of what?”
His blood slowly drifted north, reviving brain cells her kiss had decimated. “That you want me. And trust me, Sabrina, the feeling is mutual.”
Shaking her head, she shot to her feet. “No. You’re wrong. I’m not interested in getting involved with you. Or anyone. Take me home, Gavin.”
He could argue that her actions contradicted her words, that even now the flush on her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts gave away her arousal. But he didn’t want to scare her off. Instead, he rose slowly, being careful not to jar the lingering ridge behind his zipper. “Not yet.”
“Then I’ll walk.”
He couldn’t let her go. Not with the bargain he’d made. If he did she’d never agree to see him again let alone marry him. And at the moment, marriage wasn’t looking like the death sentence it once had.
He caught her elbow. “I don’t recommend walking out. It’s a long way and it’s cold. I brought you up here to show you the mine. Take a look, then I’ll drive you back.”
She scanned the area as if searching for the mine portal. Or the path to freedom.
Cupping her shoulders, he steered her to the left and pointed. She stiffened in his hold. “The entrance is behind that line of firs. I planted them when I was a teenager to conceal my hideaway.”
She shrugged off his hands. “I’ve seen old mines before. The area is littered with them. I don’t need to see another one.”
“Even though your grandparents spent time spelunking in this one?”
She bit her lip, curiosity invading her blue eyes, then stomped her feet and shoved her hands into her pockets. “Did Pops tell you that? I mean, I know you said he owned it, but how do you know he or my grandmother were ever here?”
“After I discovered Henry owned the mine I realized the initials I’d found carved into one of the beams were his, and when he told me your grandmother’s name was Colleen I guessed the set beside his might be hers.”
“Maybe he carved both.”
“Come and see. Judge for yourself.”
“I could just call him and ask.” She pulled out her cell phone.
“You get poor, if any, reception up here.”
She checked the phone, frowned, then shoved it back into her pocket. Her eyes clouded with suspicion. “Is this your version of showing me your etchings?”
Her accusation surprised a bark of laughter out of him. Sabrina was a tough case, and she really didn’t like him. He had his work cut out for him to win her over. “I confess I used that trick when I was a dumb kid, but I don’t need a cold, dark tunnel and a repertoire of ghost stories to get women these days.”
She folded her arms. “And yet here we are. I had given you points for originality with your hearty picnic, but now you tell me this is your old tried-and-true seduction routine?”
Guilty. “This is my favorite place. I wanted to share it with you. Put on your gloves and let me show you a bit of history—your history. Our history.”
Shifting on her feet, she looked back down the trail, blew out a frosty breath, then snatched up her gloves. “Make it quick.”
If she was half as curious as he hoped she’d be, “quick” wouldn’t be an option. He still had a lot to learn about his wife-to-be, and the only way to figure out if the old man had hoodwinked him into agreeing to marry a nut-job was to spend time with Sabrina. “Follow me.”
He stepped into the adit running horizontally into the side of the mountain and lit the kerosene lantern he kept inside the portal. “Once in a while we get a few bats, but they shouldn’t bother you.”
She flashed a startled glance at him. “That better not be a cheap trick to get your hands on me again.”
Give her points for intelligence. He hid a grin by ducking under a crossbeam. “Guess you’ll have to figure that out yourself. Stick close and watch your head. It’s a small mine, but I don’t want you to get lost.”
“Gee, thanks. Should I drop bread crumbs?”
“Not unless you want wildlife to come looking for you.”
She gasped and hung back.
“I’ll take care of you, Sabrina. Come on.”
He was used to the deep shadows cast by the lantern, but she wasn’t. Every now and then she jumped and hustled closer to him.
She paused at the first ventilation shaft, looked up into the dark hole and then down and stomped her foot. “I didn’t expect a wooden floor.”
“A solid surface makes rolling the ore cart out easier. The boards have held up well because it’s dry and cool in here. If you’ve toured larger mines then you know most have tracks, but this was a one-man operation for the most part, although my great-great-grandfather must have had help setting the supports.”
She eyed the square-set timbers warily. “How safe are the supports?”
He heard the apprehension in her voice and stopped, making her jerk to a halt just short of colliding with him. The small circle of light forced an intimacy between them. She stared up at him with dilated pupils and parted lips, and the need to kiss her again seized him. With the taste of her still fresh on his mind and mouth, it was difficult to remember to take it slow rather than act on his desires and risk scaring her.
He suppressed the hunger. “I spent countless hours in here as a kid and more as an experienced engineer. The mine is as safe as any mine can be. There are always risks when you’re underground.”
“There you go trying to scare me again.”
“Relax. Short of an earthquake—which is unlikely—you’re safe. I’ve been in here several times since returning home and checked to make sure there aren’t any unwelcome visitors hibernating.” He hadn’t intended that to be a cheap shot, but she startled and shuffled closer.
She scowled. “Cut it out. But I’m warning you, Gavin Jarrod, if there are any bears or fanged creatures, I’m pushing you into them and running for it while they feast on you.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” Her feisty attitude would definitely make their relationship interesting. He led her toward the mine’s newest section. “Some mines have steep drops or winzes that go straight down. Our ancestors kept the tunnels relatively level, but there are plenty of drifts to explore.”
“Drifts?”
“Dead-end tunnels. The one where your grandfather left his mark is ahead on your right.” He lifted the lantern, illuminating a broad beam as they approached the turn. “The depth and shape of the second set of initials is different from the first. It doesn’t look like the same person carved the letters.”
She stepped closer, brushing against him in the narrow space. He caught a trace of her flowery scent over the earthy smell of the tunnel and his pulse quickened. She peeled off a glove and lifted her hand to trace the letters of the second trio. “CDC. Colleen Douglas Caldwell. You’re right. These are my grandmother’s initials. She always used to put a little heart like this one after her name.”
He had a crazy urge to coil a curl around his finger, but focused instead on why he’d brought her here. “The carvings and this section weren’t here when I left for college, and I don’t remember seeing them when I came home on school breaks. Your grandparents must have dug this sometime in the last six years.”
“My grandmother died five years ago.”
The pain in her voice sounded fresh. “You were close?”
Her fingers lingered, then her arm slowly lowered, as if she hated breaking the connection. “She was more of a mother to me during those summer months than mine was for the rest of the year—not that my mother was or is a bad parent. She’s just totally absorbed with her Arctic mammals.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He reached into his pocket and dug out his pocketknife then flicked open the blade. Sabrina stumbled back, fear flashing in her eyes. He’d never had a woman be afraid of him before, and he didn’t like it.
He offered her the butt of the knife. “Keep the family tradition alive and carve your initials into the beam.”
The wariness faded from her face, replaced by a vulnerability that jump-started his pulse and made him want to take her in his arms, but if he did that he was going to kiss her again—and reinforce her suspicions that he was using old tricks on her.
“Thank you. I’d like that.” She took the knife from him.
She tucked her tongue into the corner of her mouth as she worked. The gesture was damned adorable. And sexy. Then in the lantern light he caught the glistening of tears brimming in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, and it hit him low and hard that Sabrina could be hurt by the marriage scheme.
But what choice did he have except to carry on? His family was counting on him.
She had to get rid of Gavin Jarrod, Sabrina decided as he shadowed her to the inn’s front door as the sun set. But more immediately, she had to avoid kissing him again.
Guilt and fear intertwined inside her. For a moment up on the mountain she’d weakened and let herself be swept away by the strength of Gavin’s arms as he held her and the passion in his kiss as his lips plied hers. She’d taken pleasure in the leashed power of his muscle-packed form against her, the smell of him, the taste of him—all that manly stuff her life had been lacking lately—and her body had awakened with a rush of desire.
In that moment, she’d forgotten Russell.
She’d forgotten how much loving him had cost her, how much losing him had hurt and the vow she’d made while standing at his graveside to never open herself up to that kind of pain again.
Determined to keep her distance from Gavin, she stopped at the door, pivoted and offered her hand. “Thank you for lunch and for showing me the mine.”
Eyes narrowed, he studied her extended arm, then searched her face. “You’re welcome.”
His long, warm fingers closed around hers, but instead of shaking her hand and releasing her, he anchored her in place and bent his head. Her heart sputtered in panic. She ducked at the last second to dodge his kiss, and his lips settled on her temple. She tried to pull away, but he kept her tethered with his strong grip, then he feathered a string of soft branding caresses along her cheekbone. A shudder of awareness shimmied over her. She struggled to clear her head with gulps of chilly autumn air.
