over it.
“You did bring a tent, didn’t you?” He glanced toward her overstuffed pack lying where he’d dropped it.
“No, I don’t think I did.” She tried to remember the list of items the clerk had stuffed into the pack. She didn’t remember a tent being among them. “I wasn’t planning on staying an hour let alone the night,” she explained, then shuddered. She’d have to sleep out here, at night, in the dark, with all those beady-eyed creatures watching from the trees and scurrying along the ground.
“Have you ever been backpacking before?” he asked. There it was—laughter in his voice. She swung her gaze from the dark depths of the trees and met the twinkle in his eyes head-on.
“Sure, lots of times,” she said, stiffening her back. There she was, lying again. And to a pastor no less. Although she had to admit he didn’t look like a pastor. At least not any pastor she’d ever conjured up. She took in his muscular legs, wide chest, and strong, tanned arms. Nope. More like a construction worker. She could easily picture him with a hammer in his hand. A very large hammer.
“Found it!” The rosy-cheeked boy held up the first-aid kit in triumph.
“Thanks, Charles,” Jeff said, and took the kit from him. Willa smiled as the boy shuffled his feet and spent an unusual amount of time studying the ground beneath them. She would never understand kids.
Bending before her, Jeff lifted her foot. She jumped at the unexpected contact, causing her chair to tilt. “Oh!” With her right hand, she braced herself, taking all her weight on her already sprained arm. Pain shot through her as her arm gave out.
“Whoa, there.” Jeff caught her just before she fell, his hands on either side of her grasping the arms of her chair. She couldn’t tell if it was from the shock, the pain or this incredibly handsome man’s close proximity, but what had happened to her breath?
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she muttered, unable to tear her gaze away from him. “It’s a sprain, is all.”
“I was only going to put antibiotic ointment on your blisters.”
“I’m sorry. You startled me. Your hands, they’re very…” Warmth moved up Willa’s chest and into her cheeks. She stifled an overwhelming urge to shuffle her feet and stare at the ground.
“Just how new are those boots?”
“Very,” she answered. She reached for the cream. “I think I’d better do my own feet.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Hmm.” She had the feeling she didn’t want to get that close, shouldn’t get that close to this man, but the image of him rubbing her feet left her breathless. A peculiar tingling on the back of her neck had her turning to find the rapt attention of six curious budding teens. “Oh, boy,” she moaned, then went back to work on her sore feet.
She had to get to the business at hand. Jeff was still wearing the jeans she’d slipped the camera in. The question was, had he found the pen and taken it out? And if he hadn’t, how in the world was she going to get close enough to get it back from him?
She should tell him who she was and demand the pen. That would be the smart thing to do, the right thing to do, the easiest thing to do. It was exactly what Captain Ben Armstrong would do, but not what she would do.
Everyone would find out about Tracey’s involvement with Jack Paulson soon enough. Bringing it all out into the open now would only fuel Jeff’s instincts to protect the girl, and his actions could possibly jeopardize the case. No, she’d find a way to get the pen, then get out.
Willa glanced at the slight brunette across the fire pit. Haunted was the word that came to mind. The poor thing looked haunted. If she only knew how lucky she was to be here tonight, among creatures and friends, and not with that monster, Jack.
Jeff dropped an armload of wood beside the fire pit and began to strategically pyramid the logs. He was quite handsome. Willa shook the thought right out of her head. He was a pastor who loved kids. Never had she run into anyone more out of her league than that. Even if his voice did shoot shivers down her spine, she couldn’t allow herself the luxury of fantasizing about that or about him right now.
Right now, she had to find a way to get into his pants.
Chapter Three
Beyond the fire’s flickering flames, Jeff watched curiously as Tracey stared at Willa. The girl’s jaw was hardened and a slight scowl creased her brow. Tracey was overcome with anger. A feeling he knew only too well and had spent most of his life wresting to control. He rose and turned to their unexpected guest. “Willa, would you mind keeping an eye on the kids for a few minutes?”
“Me?” Willa’s eyes widened in surprise. “Um. Sure. Okay, I guess I could do that.” Skepticism lay thick in her voice. She stood up, looked around, then sat back down again.
Jeff smiled at the uncertainty playing across her face. Her eyes locked onto his. He didn’t break the contact, but stood there baffled by the strange warmth spreading through him.
She blew back a stray, red curl that had fallen loose from its clip. “They won’t wander off and get lost or anything, will they?”
“I don’t think so,” he murmured. “I mean, no, they won’t. But if they do, they all have their whistles and they’ve been taught to hug a tree.” He wondered what her hair would look like falling free around her shoulders.
“Hug a tree? Do you belong to some nature lover’s organization or something?”
She couldn’t be serious, Jeff thought. Certainly, she was teasing him. But he couldn’t discern even the faintest flicker of amusement in her eyes. He stepped closer, close enough to smooth a smudge of dirt off her nose. He draped his whistle around her neck, then rested his hands on her shoulders. Something sparked in his fingertips. He almost pulled back, as a strong current quickened his pulse. He stared into the fathomless depths of her blue-green eyes. Did she feel it, too?
“If you get lost, find a tree, hug it, and blow the whistle.” Caught on a lump in his throat, his voice sounded no louder than a whisper. He cleared it. “Don’t keep wandering around or I won’t be able to find you. It’s basic wilderness rule 101.”
Her mouth formed a perfect little O then widened into an embarrassed smile. “I knew that. Of course, I—” she clutched the whistle. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” he said, feeling suddenly inane. Somehow this woman had him turned inside out. “God, grant me strength,” he whispered and tried to clear her from his mind. But her faint vanilla scent lingered, toying with his imagination.
Suddenly, his resolve to stay free of romantic entanglements and concentrate on firmly establishing connections with the kids in his church wavered. But, he reminded himself, courting a woman, discovering if she had values and character traits that were in alignment with his took time. Time he needed to devote to his youth group. He’d once found a woman he thought could have been “the one,” but he’d been wrong. And the distraction had cost him Dawn. He wouldn’t make that mistake again—especially with Tracey. The troubled teenager would have his complete attention.
He turned to the girl. “Walk with me?”
She nodded, and keeping pace a few steps behind him, they left the camp and climbed deeper into the woods. Dusk came quickly here, bringing with it a multitude of insects, big and small. He swatted a flurry of mosquitoes out of his face, and tried to focus on the task at hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Her short, sweet, and clipped answer left him nothing to build on.
“Want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
About how you ended up on the strip poised to flush your life into L.A.’s almighty sewer, he thought. He shouldn’t expect her to