Just Try Me.... Jill Shalvis

hotels closer to the trailhead, three and a half hours away.

      He looked disappointed, but let her go, and by late afternoon, she was making the drive from the bay area to the Sierras. Highway 80 was wide open, the July foliage and growth in full bloom on the hills. As soon as she hit the grade, she flicked off the air conditioner and opened the windows, inhaling deeply to get the scent of the mountains: sage and pine and everything else that felt so much more like home than any city.

      She was doing the right thing. It felt like the right thing. Already, smiles were coming faster and easier than they had in too long. She took another deep breath and felt some of the terrible tension that had been with her begin to dissipate.

      Feeling like the little engine that could, she kept repeating to herself I can do this, I can do this…

      She arrived at the B&B just after dark, and got a surprise in the form of a tall, lean and lanky man sitting sprawled in a recliner in the reception area, sipping a drink.

      Short, almost buzzed hair. Casual but elegant clothes. Easy I’m-comfortable-in-my-own-skin stance.

      Jared Skye.

      At the sight of her, he rose, tugging out his perpetual earpieces. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an iPod and thumbed a switch, slipping it back into his pocket.

      So much for leaving the electronics at home.

      “Hey,” he said warmly, and the most peculiar thing happened.

      She found herself smiling at him.

      He smiled back, his eyes heating. “You staying here tonight, too?”

      “Yes.” Okay, this was bad. She’d wanted to be alone, the last time she would be for four days. “But…”

      Looking into her face, Jared laughed softly. “Look at you, ever so thrilled to see me.”

      “I’m sorry,” she managed to find enough grace to say. “It’s…nothing personal.”

      For some reason, that had his grin spreading. “Oh yeah, it is. But that’s okay.” He flashed that smile again, the one that was slightly crooked, the one that made her feel inexplicably feminine, and for some reason, also made her want to take off her clothes.

      “Why don’t you join me,” he said. “I’ll get you a drink.”

      “Uh…”

      “Come on,” he said. “I promise not to ask you if I can wear open-toed sandals on the trip.” He laughed at the look on her face. “Jack and Michelle told me. It’s going to be an interesting trip, huh?”

      “Very.”

      He steered her to the couch, and though he surely saw her limp, he didn’t say a word.

      But she had to. “About that handicap sticker,” she said. “It’s old. I don’t use it.”

      He was quiet a moment while he sat. “As one who’s had his own sticker, I get the whole love/hate thing over it.”

      She looked at him in surprise. He seemed perfectly healthy. His gaze met hers, dark, still warm but now filled with a whole host of memories, some painful, and in that moment, something happened. Something not physical, and not quite describable.

      She didn’t understand. He looked like a professor, sitting there with those glasses, the khaki trousers, the white button down shirt. A sexy professor, she’d give him that. He was studying her in that disconcerting way he had, seeing far more than she meant him to. “You’re good now?”

      “Yes.”

      She nodded. “Well, you’re going to want to leave those pretty-boy clothes at home.”

      He looked down at himself, then arched a brow. “Pretty-boy clothes?”

      She just arched a brow back.

      His eyes lit with good humor. “Pretty-boy clothes. And here I thought I was so smooth. Go figure.”

      Damn, he made her want to laugh, too. “Well, they’re fine, if you want to ruin your expensive things…”

      “It’s just money.”

      “Spoken by a man who’s probably never had to do without.”

      “Ah, there you go again. Judging a book by its cover.”

      She opened her mouth, then slowly shut it. “You know, I think I’m going to bed before I put my foot in my mouth again.”

      “Wait,” he said when she stood up.

      “I’m sorry. I’m…not really fit for company.”

      His gaze ran down the length of her, then settled on her face. “You look plenty fit to me.”

      “Yeah.” If he only knew. “I should—”

      “One drink. If I annoy you before you finish it, you can leave.” He slid a hand on her arm. “What do you say?”

      His touch electrified, and she stared down at his fingers. “Um…” Wow.

      “Now that’s interesting,” he murmured.

      He was close enough that she could feel his body heat seep into her bones, and though he was touching her nowhere other than his hand on her arm, she felt surrounded by him.

      Not to mention his scent—that intangible, male scent that was…yum.

       What was happening here?

      Slowly he lifted his other hand, settled it on her arm, too, and gently pulled her a little closer. His expression mirrored some of her own discomfort. “This isn’t the light and fluffy sort of attraction I’d told myself it was.”

      “It’s nothing.”

      A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “You don’t feel it.” He shook his head, laughed at himself. “Right. I should have figured that part.”

      Within sharing-air distance as they were, he was close enough that she could see gold specks dancing in those hazel eyes, filled with disappointment now.

      Damn. She’d have thought she’d feel this attraction for Keith, had meant to feel this for Keith, but the truth was, she hadn’t wanted to stare into Keith’s eyes, and she sure as hell hadn’t wanted to press her face to Keith’s throat and inhale deeply. Yeah, time to go. “Good night,” she said. “I’ll see you at the trailhead. In jeans, I hope.”

      No smile tugged at his mouth this time. “’Night,” he said, and dropped his hands from her.

      With a nod, she turned away and headed for the stairs, and then realized something. She’d come here to find herself, to find some semblance of the person she’d been.

      But that person she’d once been would have never shied from anything. At that thought, she stopped. “Jared.”

      “Yeah?”

      “I…”

      “You…”

      “Feel it.” She shook her head. “I just don’t want to.”

      “Huh. Have to admit, I’m not sorry.” His gaze lit with something that looked like both heat and laughter as he came toward her.

      She stood her ground, her nose quivering because God, he smelled good, he smelled heavenly, and she was sniffing at him. “I really do have to go. I have to go to my room, I need to look over some maps and—” And think about you…

      “I’m sure you’ve planned out this trip to the nth degree.” He snagged her hand. “You deserve a night to relax before four days of work.”

      Relax? She’d been doing nothing but lying around healing for months, and if she hadn’t managed to relax by now, it wasn’t going to