How To Sleep With The Boss. Janice Maynard

      He grabbed a couple of water pouches and a zippered nylon case, then hefted both packs toward the treetops, securing them. “I’m going to show you where I teach the groups how to rappel.”

      Libby’s expression was dubious. “Does Charlise do the rappelling thing?”

      It was the first time she had seemed at all reluctant to approach something new. “No. Not usually. So if you don’t want to try it, you can watch me. But I do want you to get a feel for the whole range of activities we offer. C’mon...it’s not far.”

      As they passed the two tents, neatly in place for the upcoming night, he felt his pulse thud. He’d never thought of camping out as sexual or even sensual. When he spent time with a woman, it was in fine restaurants or at the theater. Perhaps later on soft sheets in her bedroom. But certainly not when both parties were sweaty—and without a luxurious bathroom at hand.

      He stumbled. Damn it. Libby was messing with his head.

      The large rock outcropping was barely half a mile away. He strode automatically, only slowing down when he realized that Libby was lagging behind. When she caught up, he moved on without speaking.

      Though she had been cooperative and pleasant all day, his inadvertent insult from Friday hung between them like a cloud. He would have to address it sooner or later, whether she liked it or not.

      When they arrived at their destination, he unzipped the bag and pulled out a mass of tightly woven mesh straps. “Sometimes, if we have women along, I might ask you to help them get into their gear. If a female seems extremely modest or uneasy, it can be difficult for me or one of the guys to help with the harness...you know...too much touching.”

      Libby nodded. “I understand.”

      She stared at him intently as he prepared the equipment. Something about her steady regard made the back of his neck tingle. “I’m going to go around the side of that ridge and come out on top,” he said. “That cliff is only about thirty feet high, but it looks really far off the ground when you’re standing up there, particularly if you’ve never done anything like this before.”

      “I can imagine.”

      He tossed her a thin ground cloth to sit on. “Feel free to relax while I get up there. And you don’t have to worry about ticks or other bugs. It’s still too early for a lot of creepy crawlies.”

      * * *

      Libby hadn’t been worrying about creepy crawlies, but she was now. Ick. Her legs itched already from the power of suggestion.

      If her companion had been any man other than Patrick Kavanagh, she might have assumed he was showing off. He could have explained how the rappelling worked without a demonstration. Maybe he just liked doing it. It was a sure bet he didn’t have any interest in impressing her.

      Without Libby to slow him down, he appeared at the top of the small cliff in no time at all. She shaded her eyes and watched as he secured himself to a nearby tree. He checked all of his connections and waved. Then, looking like an extremely handsome and nimble spiderish superhero, he stepped backward off the rock shelf and danced his way to the bottom.

      His skill was striking.

      Something about a man so physically powerful and at ease with his body was very appealing. For a moment, she thought about other, more primal things he might do exceedingly well...but no. She wouldn’t go there.

      Once before when she was young and immature, she’d fallen under the spell of a magnetic, powerful man—with disastrous results. History would not be repeating itself. She was older now, old enough to be tempted. But sex and romance were off the table. Keeping this job had to be her focus.

      The demonstration took some time. Once Patrick reached the bottom, he had to go back to the top and untie his ropes.

      Finally, he reappeared, striding toward her. She handed him his water. He dropped down beside her, barely breathing heavily, and took long gulps. Already, the sun was sliding lower in the sky, and a chill began to linger in the shadows.

      Libby pulled her knees to her chest and linked her arms around her legs. “That was pretty cool. Have you always been fond of the outdoors?”

      Patrick wiped the back of his arm across his forehead. “Would you be surprised to know that I worked in advertising for several years in Chicago?”

      She gaped at him. “Seriously?”

      His smile was self-mocking. “Yes. I loved the competitive atmosphere—stealing big accounts, coming up with the next great ad campaign. Brainstorming with smart, focused, energetic colleagues. It was a great environment for a young man.”

      She snorted. “You’re still young.”

      “Well, you know what I mean.”

      “Then what changed?”

      He shrugged. “I missed the mountains. I missed Silver Glen. I didn’t know how deeply this place was imprinted on my DNA until I left. So one day, I turned in my notice, and I came home.”

      “And started Silver Reflections.”

      “It took a couple of years, but yeah...it’s been a pretty exciting time.”

      “So who’s the real Patrick Kavanagh? The man I just watched scramble down a cliff? Or the sophisticated guy who roams the halls of his übersuccessful, private, luxurious executive getaway?”

      His quick grin startled her. “Wow, Libby...was that a compliment?” Without waiting for an answer to his teasing question, he continued. “Both, I guess. Without the time in Chicago, I doubt I would have understood the needs of the type A men and women who eat, sleep and breathe work. I was one of them...at least for a few years. But I realized my life was missing balance. For me, the balance is here. So if I can offer rest and recovery to other people, then I’m satisfied.”

      “And your personal life?” Oops. That popped out uncensored. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

      He chuckled but kept silent.

      They were sitting so close, she could smell his warm skin and the hint of whatever soap he had used that morning. Not aftershave. That would be the equivalent of inviting bears to munch on his toes. Even mentally joking about it gave her a shiver of unease.

      Not long from now, it was going to get dark. Very dark. Her nemesis, Patrick Kavanagh, was the only person metaphorically standing between her and the wildness of nature.

      To keep her mind off the upcoming night, she asked another question. “Do you have any regrets?”

      “Yes,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I said something so stupid and unkind, and I’m sorry you heard it.”

      She flushed, though in the fading light, maybe he couldn’t see. “I told you I don’t want to talk about it. You’re entitled to your opinion.”

      He touched her knee. Briefly. As if to establish some kind of connection. “I admire the hell out of you, Libby. I didn’t mean what I said on Friday night. My mother is one of the best people I know. Her instincts are always spot-on. Her compassion and genuine love for people have influenced my brothers and me more than we’ll ever know.”

      “You called me a misfit.”

      Patrick cursed beneath his breath. “Don’t remind me, damn it. I’m sorry. It was a crappy thing to do.”

      “I think the reason it hurt me was because it’s the truth.”

      Patrick leaped to his feet and dragged her with him, his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

      He looked down at her, his jaw tight. He was big and strong and absolutely confident in everything he did. With the five-inch difference in their heights, it would be easy to rest her head on his shoulder. She was tired of being strong all the time. She was tired of not knowing who she was anymore. And she really wanted the luxury of having a man like Patrick