Heatherly Bell - More Than One Night

She could shimmy down the pole, but she’d likely cut up her inner thighs doing so. Someone would come along soon. She was almost sure of it. Her new employees would be showing up in a couple of hours. Big, strong and brawny veterans from Home at Last, the nonprofit veterans employment placement agency . She had a lot of work ahead for them if she ever expected to get Wildfire Ridge’s Outdoor Adventures ready to open in a month’s time.

She should have probably waited for them to show up and had one of them raise the flag. That would have made sense. Instead, she’d had the grand idea that she wanted them to enter onto the grounds of Wildfire Ridge and be welcomed at once by the majestic American flag.

And now she was stuck.

At first, she heard only a deep rumbling sound in the distance. But when Jill turned, from her unique bird’s-eye view she caught a puff of dust kicked up by a motorcycle headed up the small dry dirt road that led to their entrance. Salvation in the form of a Hell’s Angel? No matter, she’d take it. Jill blew out a breath. She was probably going to look a little silly up here. But hey, it wouldn’t be the first time in her life she’d been left hanging. See? She still had her sense of humor intact.

The motorcycle was definitely headed her way, picking up speed as it rounded the curve. She hadn’t expected any of the four men to arrive for a couple of hours, so this might be someone else entirely. Someone curious about Wildfire Ridge. Ever since she’d been dealing with the city council, and the various hoops they made her jump through on a regular basis, curious residents would drive up the hill known for wildfires from time to time to see how much progress she’d made.

This motorcycle rider, he or she, was probably a bit of an adrenaline junkie, being that they rode a motorcycle. Her perfect client. When the place was open and running, they’d be providing plenty of extreme sports and activities for the Silicon Valley set.

The motorcycle slowed and the rider’s helmet tipped up, seemingly to take in the view. Now Jill could see that the rider was definitely a man. He was built like a running back, tall, with long legs that slid from the motorcycle after he shut it off. The scuffed black leather boots he wore thudded against the hard ground. He still wore his helmet so she couldn’t get a good look at his face. Even so, she heard the smile in his voice.

“Hey...what’s up?”

“That’s funny. Would you mind giving me a hand, please?”

It only took him a second to right the ladder and place it close to the pole. He held it steady with both hands while she reached for it and made her way down one rung at a time. She felt a little self-conscious the closer she got to him, as she realized that from his position he was getting a real good look at her bottom. Not to mention her bare legs. Good thing she regularly tortured herself at the gym. But as soon as she got Outdoor Adventures open, she was going to do all the fun kinds of exercises like hiking and zip-lining, along with everyone else.

Anyway, what should she care what this guy thought of her butt? She couldn’t answer that, except for the fact that she liked the way he walked. There was something so familiar about it and... Dare she say it? Sexy. Unfortunately, that was probably more of a testament to the fact that she’d been celibate for three years, so every man was beginning to look good to her. Even this easy rider dude.

He still hadn’t taken that damned helmet off, which gave him a bit of a storm trooper look. On second thought, more of a Darth Vader look, seeing that he was dressed all in black. The only thing missing was the cape. If he started to sound raspy and out of breath, she was going to scream.

On the last rung, she turned to thank Darth Vader. “I really appreciate this.”

“What the hell? Angelina?” He pulled his helmet off to reveal a gorgeous head of dark blond hair and a set of bright blue eyes she’d never managed to forget.

“Chris?”

He grinned, slow and easy. “My real name is Sam.”

For a moment, Jill couldn’t take in a breath. Her Chris . She’d given him that name and asked him to call her Angelina . Her one-and-only one-night stand from three years ago. San Francisco. Too many mojitos. A Marine on leave. Jill, far too patriotic for her own good. One night. It wasn’t supposed to follow her into her carefully arranged life. She coughed, a choking sound.

He squinted. “Are you okay there?”

She didn’t speak for a moment, simply nodded. “My real name is Jill.”

“I’m going to guess that you’re Jill Davis, owner of Wildfire Ridge’s Outdoor Adventures.”

Jill found her voice, weak as it sounded to her now. “And you must be Sam Hawker, my new employee.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Jill had “Chris,” aka Sam Hawker, in her office trailer filling out paperwork. W-2 forms, emergency contact forms. As he straddled the chair, she flashed back to the night three years ago, when she’d straddled him.

Oh boy.

Humiliating. The only time she’d ever taken such a huge risk with a guy, and now she had to be his boss. She wasn’t sure how this could work, unless she put some parameters in place. No way would she turn a Marine in need of a job away. But if they were going to be working together and getting this place into shape, they were going to have to forget... Something.

“Um...want some coffee?”

He glanced up, his lips twitching into a smile. “Sure.”

“How do you like it?” She’d had wild monkey sex with the man and didn’t know how he liked his coffee.

So wrong.

“Hot.”

Well, she could have guessed that. She poured him a mug of black coffee and set it down next to him. He slid over his emergency contact form, blank. “There’s no emergency contact.”

“Why not? That’s usually where you put in family. Like a...spouse or significant other.” She slid it back to him.

“Nope.” He slid it back. “No spouse. No significant other.”

“What about parents? You have those?”

“Yeah. They’re not my emergency contacts.”

In-te-res-ting. The tone in his voice told her it was a subject best left for another lifetime.

“What should I do if something happens to you?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m apparently hard to kill.”

She swallowed hard and pointed to the form. “I think I need to put something here.”

“Call 911 if something happens.” He lifted a shoulder.

“Okay.” She made a note, feeling silly. Of course she’d call 911. But wasn’t there anyone who’d care to know if he was hurt?

He took a gulp of his coffee and set it down, then stretched his arms out and she nearly drooled as muscles bunched up under his black tee. She had a distinct memory of those muscles. Muscle memory . That was a thing, she understood, just not the way she was thinking about it.

She cleared her throat. “I think we need to talk about it.”

He set his pen down and leaned back, those deep blue eyes studying her. “Might be best.”

“I mean, we’re grown-ups here. Nothing to be ashamed of, yada yada.”

“Agreed.”

“But if we’re going to be working together... I’m your boss. So we should talk about how that’s never going to happen again.”

“Huh.”

“What does that mean? Is that a ‘yes’ huh, as in you agree?”

“With the way you’ve been staring at my ass, I thought you were going to go another way with that.”

“I have not been staring at your...butt!”

“A little bit.” He held his finger and thumb about an inch apart and sent her an easy smile.