Dream Wedding: Dream Bride / Dream Groom. Susan Mallery

a kid. I had no concept of quality, so I made it up in volume. She taught me they weren’t interchangeable.”

      “I see. And the second time it happened?”

      He drew in a deep breath. “I was on a lecture tour in Europe a couple of years ago. There was a particular young woman who developed a crush on me. I didn’t encourage her at all, in fact I barely knew who she was. One night I came in late and found her waiting for me in my bed.”

      Chloe’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

      “I explained that I was flattered, but not interested. When she wouldn’t leave, I got another room for the night, then in the morning, I changed hotels.”

      Chloe burst out laughing. “The most trouble I’ve ever had with the opposite sex is when old man Withers, the seventy-year-old misogynist who takes care of the grounds of the house, calls me a ninny. He calls all women ninnies.”

      “Are you going to put that in the article?” he asked. He hadn’t requested that any part of their conversation be off the record. Perhaps he should have. When he was around Chloe he thought of her as a woman first and someone he would like to get to know second. He rarely remembered she was a journalist.

      “I’m not out to make you the bad guy,” she said. “I want to show a different side of you and connect that with your work. Neither my editor nor I is interested in a hatchet job.”

      “I appreciate that.”

      “I find it interesting you’re asking me this after the fact. Isn’t that dangerous?”

      “Yes.”

      “You’re not concerned?”

      “You’ve just explained that I shouldn’t be.”

      They were still walking side by side. Their hands brushed. Without thinking, Arizona laced his fingers with hers. Chloe stumbled a step, but didn’t pull away.

      “But how do you know you can trust me?” she asked.

      Was it his imagination or was her voice a little breathless? He wanted to know that she was reacting to him the same way he reacted to her. He wanted to know that she felt it, whatever the it was, too.

      “Gut instinct,” he said. “I’ve met a lot of people in my life and I’ve learned how to read them.”

      Her hand was small but strong. He liked the feel of her next to him like this, walking together on the trail. He found himself eager to show her the site, to explain his world to her. He wanted her to enjoy their time together, to be impressed by him, to think he was nearly as exciting as his image.

      “Is there anywhere on this planet you haven’t been?” she asked.

      “If you’re talking continents, I haven’t been to Antarctica. Otherwise, I would guess I’ve hit most of the major points.”

      “Why am I not surprised?” She gave him a quick, sideways glance. “You can be a little intimidating,” she admitted. “I’ve interviewed fairly powerful people in the past. Government officials, celebrities. You’re the first one who has made me feel like the country mouse come to town for a visit.”

      He leaned close. “You don’t look anything like a country mouse. In fact, there’s nothing rodentlike about you at all.”

      “Gee, thanks.”

      Gently, reluctantly, he thought, although that could just be wishful thinking on his part, she pulled her hand away from his. “Back to business,” she told him. “I have a lot more questions.”

      “Ask away.”

      “About your travels. From what I’ve been reading, most of them were financed privately. You don’t work with a particular foundation or for a university.”

      “That’s true. There’s a rather impressive family trust fund that has paid my expenses. I’ve had opportunities to work for charitable organizations, helping them raise funds. I do that frequently. When I do guest lecture series I tend to donate my fees to the local children’s hospital and women’s shelters. I’ve done specific tours for museums, and then they keep the proceeds.”

      “You don’t keep any for yourself?”

      “I don’t have to.” At her look of confusion, he shrugged. “My family has a lot of money. I don’t need more so why wouldn’t I give some of it away?” He replayed his last couple of comments in his mind and frowned. “I’m not some do-gooder,” he said. “I was taught it was my place to give back. But don’t make me out to be a saint. I’m very much a man with as many flaws as the next guy.”

      “I see.”

      Her words didn’t give anything away, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He almost didn’t want to know. Better to imagine she was thinking about being with him, touching him, holding him close. Because that was what he wanted her thinking. He wasn’t willing to explore the realization that it was much easier to deal with Chloe wanting him than her actually liking him.

      * * *

      THEY STOPPED AROUND one o’clock to take a break. Chloe let her backpack fall to the ground, then rotated her shoulders.

      “Cassie warned me it was going to get heavier as we walked, but I didn’t believe her. I see now I was wrong.”

      “Sore?” Arizona asked.

      “I’ll survive.”

      She watched him release his pack as if it weighed nothing. It had to be twice the size of hers, but then he was not only male and stronger, but used to this sort of thing.

      The afternoon was warm, but not too hot. She eyed the clear sky. “I thought the Pacific Northwest was known for rain.”

      “It is. Looks like we’re going to get lucky.” He hesitated just long enough for her breath to catch. “With the weather.”

      “Of course,” she murmured. With the weather. What else? Certainly not with each other. It wasn’t her fault that she found the man wildly attractive. The more she got to know him, the worse it got. It wasn’t enough that he was good-looking. No, he had to be smart, funny and kind as well. She was going to have to be very careful when she wrote her article, or she was going to come off like some teenager with a major crush.

      “Ready for lunch?” he asked.

      He sat on a fallen log and reached for his backpack. Chloe settled next to him. She had two canteens hanging from her pack. They’d stopped at a rapidly flowing stream about a half hour before and refilled their water supply.

      “Here you go.” He handed her two protein bars, a small plastic bag filled with what looked like cut-up dried vegetables and fruit, and an apple.

      “Goody, five-star cuisine,” she said as she eyed what was supposed to pass for a meal.

      “Don’t wrinkle your nose at me, young lady. There are plenty of vitamins and minerals there, along with enough calories for energy.”

      “I didn’t say anything.”

      “You didn’t have to.”

      Usually she was more difficult to read. Was she so open around him, or could he just see inside of her? “I wasn’t complaining. This is different from what I’m used to. I don’t have your ‘bush’ experience. What with how you grew up and all.”

      “It wasn’t like this,” he said as he stretched out his long legs in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. Worn jeans hugged his powerful thighs. “My grandfather didn’t believe in living with physical discomfort. We always traveled first-class.”

      “There are a lot of places you can’t get a jet or a limo.”

      “True. We used carts and camels, boats, whatever was necessary to get us where he wanted to go. But he arranged for the best. Plenty of staff along to handle the luggage