Impulse Control (4 page)

“Use a wider and longer stride. Lift your legs higher, and try to be light on your feet. If anything hurts, let me know, and I’ll adjust it. Ready?”

Her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket. “Hang on.” She took off her gloves and checked her messages. Since she’d never been away from Billy for more than a workday, Holly had promised to check in every four hours. Susannah figured that was about as long as she could stand it without going nuts. She smiled at the photo of Billy sleeping in his crib, thumb in his mouth, butt in the air, and covered with his favorite blanket, and then sent a quick shot of the snowshoes in reply.

Donovan raised an eyebrow.

She smiled and said nothing. It was none of his business.

She picked up the shoes, laid them in the snow, and carefully began to attach them to her boots while Donovan watched. When she was finished, he squatted to check her work, expertly tugging and adjusting. She gritted her teeth as his touch sent tingles through her. He looked up at her, and her stomach clenched. His gaze narrowed, and his grip tightened on her knees.

“Nice job. How do they feel?” His tone was all business.

She swallowed hard. “Like a third and fourth leg.”

“You’ll get used to them.”

She would have to. The shoes, along with her insane desire to forget all the reasons she didn’t like Donovan, didn’t want him anywhere near her, and didn’t want to do this damn show. He released her knees, and for a split second she wanted him to touch her again.
No way.
Fear rose above her desire. She was
not
paying attention to her crazy hormones. She’d listened to them once, and ended up with two years of a miserable marriage. Her hormones were idiots.

He tossed his shoes onto the snow. It took him about three seconds to get them fastened. “Show-off,” she muttered under her breath.

He shot her a wink, and the desire to flip him the bird was so strong she was shocked. She’d never flipped anyone off in her life, although working in kitchens as a teenager had made her familiar with the gesture. Was this part of her transformation? Maybe she wouldn’t resist the urge next time he annoyed her. After all, they wanted drama. She’d been ignoring the camera and sound crew recording their every move, but she had no doubt they’d capture it all. Might as well give them something interesting, right? Viewers didn’t want a nice, drama-free non-adventure. They’d want to see her struggle, maybe even fail. Objectively, she could see the merit in that idea, but that didn’t mean she wanted to experience it.

Surreptitiously, she tried to lift her foot. It didn’t budge, so she tugged harder, managing to lift it a few inches before she lost her balance and set it back down. She’d spent every night of the past week tossing and turning, dreading this very moment, and it was even more horrifying than she had imagined. She’d been prepared for a hike, but snowshoes added a whole new element of awful. She glanced around, wondering which direction they’d go and how on earth she was going to get herself moving through the snow. The ranger station sat at the bottom of a mountain and was surrounded by forest. Miles of humiliation stretched out before her, but they had to stop somewhere. At least when night fell, she’d get to curl up in a ball in a tent and go to sleep, no matter how awful the intervening hours.

She looked back at Donovan, wearing his snowshoes like they were extensions of his limbs, hands on his lean hips, broad shoulders relaxed, and perma-smug tilt to his lips. Determination soared above her trepidation.
I am not going down, and if I do…so is he.

…

God, she was cute. He’d just about swallowed his tongue when she’d emerged from the bathroom, looking sleek and pissed off, ready to take on the world. The gear he’d picked up fit her like a second skin, outlining every curve. When she’d applied deodorant, he’d caught a split-second flash of her bra, a tiger print, and the vision of her clad in jungle fleece and nothing else filled his head. He’d quickly turned his attention back to the tent camera to keep from embarrassing himself.

“Take a few steps.” He gestured at the snow.

She shook her head, swaying a bit. “You first. Make it look easy, Wild Man.”

He moved across the snow, turned, and then walked back to her. “Show me your moves, Susie.”

Her shoulders squared and her lips thinned. She looked at her feet and took a tentative step. Then another. Watching her, he regretted he couldn’t take the lead position on this expedition. He needed to be able to monitor her safety, but having her fabulous ass square in his field of vision was going to make their hike a challenge for him, too. Surely the blood in his body would settle in other muscles once they got moving.

He turned his attention back to Susannah. She’d taken about ten steps and was getting the hang of it. She looked over her shoulder at him, triumph clear in her gaze, and went over sideways, hitting the snow so fast, she didn’t have time to break her fall.

He clumped over to her and held out his hand. “You caught the edge of your shoe with your other shoe.”

“I know what I did.” Her gloved hand slid into his, but instead of letting him lift her to her feet, she tugged, a dead weight. Resisting the fall would likely end up with him pulling a muscle or crushing her beneath him, so he gave in, falling to the snow beside her.

He propped his head on his hand. “Play nice, Susie. You don’t want to start a snow war with me. You won’t win.”

Her brown eyes flashed, and he saw a glimmer of the same emotion he’d seen in Bergman’s office. It affected him the way it had then, arousing his protective instincts and his curiosity. He ignored both. He didn’t need to know what made her freeze up, even though he wanted to pin her in the snow and fire questions at her until she caved. Susie’s problems were not his problems. He was here to create entertainment. Keeping her on edge was the best way to do it, and there was no need to feel guilty. She knew what she was in for, and judging from what she’d said in Bergman’s office last week, she planned to dish it back once he had the misfortune of entering her kitchen.

His gaze snagged on the snowflakes caught in her lashes, and the desire to taste them was so strong, his mouth watered. His attraction to her was no surprise, but her sudden softening against him shocked the hell out of him. Her lips parted, and her pupils widened. The urge to settle on top of her and see how their bodies fit together was nearly irresistible. How would her lips feel? What did the inside of her mouth taste like? He eased forward.

Something moved in his peripheral vision, and he remembered the cameramen, probably zooming in for a close-up right now. Susie stiffened, and the invitation in her eyes turned to ice so fast he must have imagined it. He got his feet beneath him and stood, shaking snow from his coat and pants. This time, he didn’t give her the opportunity to unbalance him. He reached down and hauled her upright.

“Daylight’s burning. Get in some more practice while I grab the sled.”

He grabbed her backpack from the porch and strapped it onto the sled. He should make her wear it, in case they got separated, but she had enough to contend with at the moment. A backpack would change her center of gravity, and compensating for the extra weight might cause muscle cramps later. He shrugged into his own pack and then double-checked their gear, aware of her pacing slowly back and forth behind him. His camera and sound crew, ready to go, recorded their movements. Stan and Dave had shadowed him since his first show, and the three of them were a great team. They’d already discussed the best way to approach the filming, and he knew the guys were looking forward to an easy shoot. It wasn’t the Amazon or the Sahara. There were no crocodiles, scorpions, or poisonous snakes. No crevasses or cliffs. For them, this was a cakewalk, and he doubted they’d break much of a sweat.

Susie, on the other hand, was in for it. Had she ever killed her dinner? Eaten beef jerky? Spam? Cold soup out of a can? He’d packed a slew of things he hoped she’d find unpalatable, just so they could film her eating them. Had the kitchen princess ever slept on the ground? He’d have to make sure the guys were ready to film the moment she crawled out of the tent tomorrow morning.

He remembered his first trip on snowshoes. His hips had felt like raw meat, and his ass had throbbed in time to the beat of his heart for days. Unless Susie secretly trained for marathons, her entire body was going to be shrieking when she woke up tomorrow. How far would they get before she needed a break today? Not far, judging by her jerky movements. She was expending more energy waving her arms than she was moving her legs, but he didn’t dare give her poles to steady her. If she didn’t poke her eye out, she’d probably aim at his.

He strapped into the harness and pulled the sled over to her.

“Let’s go, Susie.” Every time he used the nickname, she twitched. How long before she lost her temper? The cool pink princess in Bergman’s office had been replaced by an equally unruffled ice queen, but there was heat hiding under there somewhere. The elements brought out the worst in people, and he was more determined than ever to get under her skin.

He pulled two hats out of his pocket. He settled one on his head, and then stopped beside her. Instead of handing it to her, he slipped it over her hair. She held rock-still, seeming to not even breathe, and their gazes caught for a long second. Her eyes flickered down to his lips and then settled coolly over his left shoulder. He hardened, tempted to say or do something that would draw her attention back to him.

“Finished?” she asked, clearly eager to put space between them.

“Almost.” He dug two pairs of glasses out of his other pocket, put one on, and shielded her eyes with the other. Abruptly, he changed his mind about how they should move out. It was mostly powder anyway, so it would be better for him to break the trail. “I’ll take the lead, but we’ll go at your pace. Let me know if you’re struggling, hot, thirsty, or need a break.” They could switch positions after the frozen forest had cooled him down. Knowing Stan and Dave, they’d already sent shots of her curvy silhouette and his tented snow pants back to the station. He felt a grin spread over his face. If they hadn’t, they should. The station wanted to create buzz, and this was one way to do it. Deliberately he turned to the side and got the guys’ attention. When they cracked up, he knew they’d noticed his predicament.

Susie glanced back at them with suspicion. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” He stepped out in front of her with a wink. “Try to keep up.”

…

Try to keep up.
Donovan’s words drove her to take step after step behind him as he peppered her with inane questions. For the last interminable hour, he’d been bugging the hell out of her by keeping up an exhausting running commentary, which forced a response from her every few minutes. It took every bit of energy she possessed to breathe, move, and answer him without showing a hint of fatigue. She was going to have to let this one slide and hope he didn’t notice.

Her legs felt like lead. No, what was heavier than lead? And red hot? Iron? She pictured a blacksmith pounding on an anvil. That felt right. Every shuffling step rang through her body like a hammer, and heat poured from her legs, through her core, and up to her exposed face, which must be glowing red as the coals in a forge by now. She wished she
were
made of iron. Iron was strong, and she felt weaker by the minute. She envisioned her body steaming through the snow and disappearing beneath the surface, leaving vapor in her wake. Keep up? She’d kept up, all right, but now she was going down.

“Susie? Do you have any pets?”

Did a fourteen-month-old count as a pet? She loved to pet him. His little head with its downy tufts of dark hair was the most comforting thing she knew.
Billy.
She jerked to a stop, legs trembling. If she went down, what would happen to Billy? Donovan’s goading had made her forget she had nothing to prove. These guys were professionals, and she was several bumbling steps short of novice and about to drive herself into heatstroke.

The distance between them widened, and she felt a tired smile crack her dry lips. Maybe she could talk the camera crew into heading back to the ranger station with her. They could leave the Wild Man and his sled where he belonged. Her show was important, but she wasn’t cut out for the woods. She belonged at home.

Donovan turned to look over his shoulder and then stopped suddenly. He swung around, shrugged out of the sled harness, and jogged back to her. Jogged. In snowshoes. At three times the pace they’d been keeping. Her legs wobbled, and she tried to stay steady, but it was no use. Her knees turned to jelly, and she swayed just as he reached her.

“Water. Gel cube.” He wrapped his arms around her and took her weight on his chest.

She focused on staying upright and breathing. Fire coursed up and down her legs. Her shoulders ached and her head throbbed. Even with her eyes shut and her sunglasses on, the world seemed too bright, and it pulsed with the pounding in her head. She felt the others approach, and a hard plastic straw touched her lips. “Small sip.”

How had he known she wanted to drink like a horse at the end of the Kentucky Derby? The small sip of water wasn’t enough, but she did as she was told.

“Good girl.”

His words spread a balm of satisfaction through her body. She blinked hard. What was wrong with her? She hated that phrase. “Patronize me at your own risk.” Her voice sounded far away.

“She’s still in there, boys.” Donovan sounded relieved, confusing her. Shouldn’t he be thrilled? She’d obviously done something wrong, because her brain seemed to be operating about three feet above her leaden body and felt like it was about to explode. “Open up, Suz.”

Her lips fell open as he stroked them with his bare finger. She wrapped her tongue around something soft, sweet, and gummy.

“Chew.”

She obeyed, longing to sink down into the snow and take a nap, maybe pull him down with her as a blanket. He was being so nice. She snuggled closer, and his arms tightened. “Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “On fire.”