Just Try Me.... Jill Shalvis

her came a familiar sense of energy and excitement, and she was assaulted with memories.

      The first time she’d set foot in here, she’d been awed and thrilled and…excited. During her interview, Keith had sat on his desk, right in front of her, larger than life, gorgeous and sexy. He’d agreed to teach her to guide that day, a promise he’d kept.

      After she’d lost her virginity on that desk.

      Now the reception area was filled with a group of people, drinking sodas and nibbling on munchies—the custom pre-trip meeting. She took in the faces, and then one in particular—Keith’s, and just like that, she was no longer quickly approaching her thirtieth birthday without a plan, but was a nervous eighteen-year-old.

      “Lily,” he said, and crossed the room toward her. His sun-kissed-wheat hair was still long to his shoulders. His baby blues, always smiling, had a few more laugh lines, but as was typical of a man, they only added character. At five-ten, his body was still whipcord-lean and tough, ready for his next trip or climb or adventure or whatever.

      One never knew with Keith.

      It’d been part of his appeal. She waited for the onslaught of more emotions, but interestingly enough, they didn’t come, and that disappointed her even as she knew it was silly. What had she expected, to immediately be transported back to “herself”?

      Maybe a little, she admitted, no matter how unrealistic that had been.

      Keith put his hands on her arms and pulled her in, kissing one cheek, then the other, lingering with both far longer than social decorum called for.

      Not that Keith had ever been concerned with social decorum. He’d always done what he wanted, when he wanted, never caring what anyone thought. That had been incredibly appealing to her back then, and she smiled now, leaning into him as if he could infuse her with his strength, his zest.

      “You look amazing,” he said for her ears only, handing her a drink from a nearby tray. “Now let me introduce you to your group. Everyone,” he called out, stopping the light conversation and chatter in the room with just the one word, apparently clearly still carrying charisma around in spades. “This is Lily Peterson.” He squeezed her shoulder, smiled down into her face. “I’ve put her bio in your packet, but here’s your chance to meet her in person and ask her any questions you’ve stored up.”

      Everyone began chattering at once, and Keith laughed.

      Not Lily. She didn’t often get nervous. After all, she’d once been stuck on a mountain in a blizzard with no hopes of survival, and she’d gone down a class-six rapid and had her kayak break apart on the rocks all around her. Hell, she’d fallen off a cliff and broken her back, to be told she’d never walk again.

      But this first meeting of people…this got to her. She took a quick sip of her drink and forced a smile. “Hello, everyone.”

      “Let’s start with Rose McCall.” Keith gestured to the woman closest to Lily. “Rose is a real estate agent from downtown, and is looking for something new and fun to do with herself. Hence the hike.”

      Rose waggled her fingers at Lily. Her nails were long and purple-tipped, encrusted with diamonds. “Looking forward to this, let me tell you.” She wore designer jeans, low on her curvy hips and so tight Lily had no idea how the woman moved. Her black halter top was covered in sparkles that matched her five-inch heels. Her carefully applied makeup masked her age, but Lily would have guessed late thirties.

      The Woman on the Prowl, Lily thought as she shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

      Rose smiled. “Likewise. I have a question. How do you feel about sandals?”

      “On the trail?”

      “Yes. My feet like to be cool. My toes need to breathe.”

      “Probably they’re going to want to breathe before and after the trip,” Lily said as diplomatically as she could. “Boots are definitely best.”

      “Agreed,” Keith said, and with his hands on Lily’s shoulders, turned her toward the next group member. “And this here is Roland Rocklin.”

      Roland was a twenty-something guy dressed in all in black from head to toe, black fatigues, black form-fitting T-shirt, black combat boots, and he was so gorgeous Lily actually blinked.

      “Rock,” Roland corrected, and held out his hand, a movement that set off all kinds of rippling muscles to go with his engaging smile.

      “Wrestler?” Lily asked, thinking The Hottie. She’d never say her labels out loud, but she’d always had fun characterizing her groups. And she was already— shocking—having fun.

      “Boxer,” Rock told her with a quick grin. “My trainer bought me this trip for my birthday, said I was a pansy-ass—er, a wuss if I didn’t make it to the end.”

      “Oh, you’ll make it to the end,” Lily assured him. No one was giving up on her watch, not even her, not if it killed her. “We all will.”

      “Good to hear.” Rock’s gaze slid over to Rose, who was retying her halter top. When the material slipped, she caught it just before exposing a nipple.

      “Oops.” She laughed gustily. “Sorry, don’t mind me. But let me just say, I do like the idea of all of us getting to the…grand finish.”

      Rock’s tongue fell out. Lily figured he was lucky he didn’t start drooling.

      Keith cleared his throat. “Moving on. Lily, meet Jack and Michelle Moore.” He gestured to the young couple on the other side of Rose. They were both dressed to the nines, and built like they lived in a gym, not to mention California-perfect blond. “The trip is their one-year anniversary present from Michelle’s father.”

      “Present…or torture rack,” Michelle said as they both shook Lily’s hand.

      “No torture,” Lily assured her.

      “Yeah. Um, I was wondering.” Michelle leaned in. “If there’s any way you could just pretend we went on this trip. You know, if my father asked.”

      Lily blinked. “Pretend?”

      “Don’t listen to her,” Jack said. “We’re going.” He looked at his wife. “You agreed to go so you don’t lose your allowance. If it’s that important to you, you go.”

      Michelle sighed. “Fine. But…could we arrange for a later start time so we don’t have to get up quite so early?”

      Lily shook her head. “I’m sorry, no. We have to leave at eight.”

      Michelle pursed her perfectly glossed lips. “Eight is ungodly.”

      “That may be, but we have a schedule. It’s the start time.”

      “Huh.” She considered that a moment. “Well, what happens if someone’s…say, like, late?”

      Lily glanced at Keith, who simply raised a brow. Passing the buck. Something he was good at, she remembered. He didn’t like to be the bad guy. “If you’re late,” she said gently but firmly. “You’ll probably get left.”

      Michelle looked intrigued by that, but Jack shook his head. “Michelle.”

      “Oh, fine. We’ll be there.”

      Behind them, the office door opened, and in came…

      “Ah,” Keith said, with a welcoming smile. “The last member of the group, Jared Skye.”

      The man who gave up parking spots, stopped to pet stray dogs and opened doors for temperamental women now had a name.

      He smiled at Lily, and the oddest thing…something happened low in her belly. It was a pit of knowledge— by the end of this trip, they would have a history, this man and herself. Somehow, in some way, she knew it.

      She just didn’t like it.