A Little Surprise for the Boss (Mills & Boon Desire) by Elizabeth Lane Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Lane
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But I’m still cold.” Her teeth chattered faintly as she spoke.
“Come here.” Impulsively, he grabbed a fistful of her sleeping bag and pulled her against him. Terri didn’t resist. Wrapped chastely in a cocoon of nylon and synthetic down, she nestled her rump into the curve of his body and let him wrap his arms around her. Within minutes her breathing told Buck she’d drifted off to sleep.
As he lay with his arm across her shoulders, the tingle of awareness became an ache, deepening the urge to move above her and taste those soft lips. He imagined unzipping her sleeping bag, cradling a satiny breast in his palm and stroking her nipple until she moaned.
But as long as he was fantasizing, why stop there? He could imagine being someplace else, someplace private, clean and warm where he could scoop her up in his arms and carry her to bed, where they could relive their single bedroom encounter over and over till they were both deliciously sated.
Was Terri having similar dreams? She’d climbed into his bed once. Surely she wouldn’t be averse to doing it a second time, and more…
Buck’s thoughts had triggered his arousal again. Imagining an ice-cold shower, he brought himself under a measure of control. Tomorrow they’d be back in their familiar world, slipping into their roles as boss and employee as they counted the days till her departure. The more he thought about it, the less he looked forward to it.
How could he let her walk away without taking one last chance?
By the time they reached the South Rim tomorrow they’d be sore, hungry, tired—and within a few minutes’ walk of a comfortable lodge with a good restaurant. They’d both be ready for showers, a good meal and a night’s rest before driving back to Porter Hollow in the company vehicle that waited for them. The possibilities were…intriguing, to say the least.
Holding that thought and cradling Terri close, Buck drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Phantom Ranch, at the bottom of the Grand Canyon’s inner gorge, was a cluster of picturesque stone cabins and a small lodge with beds that could be reserved by hikers, river runners and mule riders for a night’s rest. Here Terri, Buck and the four sheikhs gathered their personal gear and left the raft to be towed downriver by George and Eli.
Terri stood on the riverbank, watching the two rafts disappear around the bend. She would ask to make sure the clients had tipped the hard-working camp boys. If not, she would suggest to Buck that he pay them a generous bonus. They’d earned it on this trip.
By the time the group had taken advantage of the restroom and enjoyed snacks at the cantina, the mule train had arrived to take them up the winding trail to the rim. Terri had hiked that trail—a grueling eight-hour climb—several times in the past. Today she was grateful for the mule ride, which would cut the time by nearly half. She was hot, filthy and anxious to get back to her normal routine.
They mounted up and headed out at a plodding, swaying walk. There were seven big brown mules including one for the driver, who took the lead. Buck brought up the rear with Terri in front of him, and the sheikhs were strung out between. Riding single file on the narrow trail, there wouldn’t be much chance to talk, which was fine. She needed some quiet time to regroup for whatever awaited her back in Porter Hollow.
She was sharply aware of Buck riding behind her, but she was too emotionally raw to turn and give him a look or a word. Last night in the canyon, he’d been so kind and protective that she’d almost believed he could care for her. But back in the real world, she knew Buck was bound to become as demanding and insensitive as ever.
The person she’d been a week ago would have patiently followed Buck’s orders and accepted being taken for granted as her due. But now she knew she didn’t have to be a doormat for any man—not even the high-and-mighty Buck Morgan.
The air in the deep gorge was like a
“Come here.” Impulsively, he grabbed a fistful of her sleeping bag and pulled her against him. Terri didn’t resist. Wrapped chastely in a cocoon of nylon and synthetic down, she nestled her rump into the curve of his body and let him wrap his arms around her. Within minutes her breathing told Buck she’d drifted off to sleep.
As he lay with his arm across her shoulders, the tingle of awareness became an ache, deepening the urge to move above her and taste those soft lips. He imagined unzipping her sleeping bag, cradling a satiny breast in his palm and stroking her nipple until she moaned.
But as long as he was fantasizing, why stop there? He could imagine being someplace else, someplace private, clean and warm where he could scoop her up in his arms and carry her to bed, where they could relive their single bedroom encounter over and over till they were both deliciously sated.
Was Terri having similar dreams? She’d climbed into his bed once. Surely she wouldn’t be averse to doing it a second time, and more…
Buck’s thoughts had triggered his arousal again. Imagining an ice-cold shower, he brought himself under a measure of control. Tomorrow they’d be back in their familiar world, slipping into their roles as boss and employee as they counted the days till her departure. The more he thought about it, the less he looked forward to it.
How could he let her walk away without taking one last chance?
By the time they reached the South Rim tomorrow they’d be sore, hungry, tired—and within a few minutes’ walk of a comfortable lodge with a good restaurant. They’d both be ready for showers, a good meal and a night’s rest before driving back to Porter Hollow in the company vehicle that waited for them. The possibilities were…intriguing, to say the least.
Holding that thought and cradling Terri close, Buck drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Phantom Ranch, at the bottom of the Grand Canyon’s inner gorge, was a cluster of picturesque stone cabins and a small lodge with beds that could be reserved by hikers, river runners and mule riders for a night’s rest. Here Terri, Buck and the four sheikhs gathered their personal gear and left the raft to be towed downriver by George and Eli.
Terri stood on the riverbank, watching the two rafts disappear around the bend. She would ask to make sure the clients had tipped the hard-working camp boys. If not, she would suggest to Buck that he pay them a generous bonus. They’d earned it on this trip.
By the time the group had taken advantage of the restroom and enjoyed snacks at the cantina, the mule train had arrived to take them up the winding trail to the rim. Terri had hiked that trail—a grueling eight-hour climb—several times in the past. Today she was grateful for the mule ride, which would cut the time by nearly half. She was hot, filthy and anxious to get back to her normal routine.
They mounted up and headed out at a plodding, swaying walk. There were seven big brown mules including one for the driver, who took the lead. Buck brought up the rear with Terri in front of him, and the sheikhs were strung out between. Riding single file on the narrow trail, there wouldn’t be much chance to talk, which was fine. She needed some quiet time to regroup for whatever awaited her back in Porter Hollow.
She was sharply aware of Buck riding behind her, but she was too emotionally raw to turn and give him a look or a word. Last night in the canyon, he’d been so kind and protective that she’d almost believed he could care for her. But back in the real world, she knew Buck was bound to become as demanding and insensitive as ever.
The person she’d been a week ago would have patiently followed Buck’s orders and accepted being taken for granted as her due. But now she knew she didn’t have to be a doormat for any man—not even the high-and-mighty Buck Morgan.
The air in the deep gorge was like a
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