Ann Evans - The Return Of David Mckay

Glancing around at what the three of them had achieved, David wondered if maybe this trip wouldn’t be such a disaster after all.

The evening scents began to awaken and wander through the air. The wind died, making the extra clothing they’d pulled out of their packs unnecessary. They ate the dumplings with coffee and warmed corn bread brought from the lodge and talked of inconsequential things—the few glimpses of wildlife they’d seen today, the chance for rain. The likelihood of getting a good night’s sleep in strange surroundings and unfamiliar bedding.

Every so often Gran seemed inclined to turn the conversation to the past, but David noticed that Addy was quick to change the subject. If she hadn’t, he knew he would have. No point in reliving any of that, now, was there?

After dinner Gran disappeared into the tent. Addy set another pot over the fire to heat water for dish washing and bathing. When that was done, she joined his grandmother and then emerged moments later with a small toiletry bag.

“I’ll be sleeping out here tonight,” she told him.

“Why? We can squeeze three people in the tent.”

“On trips like this I usually sleep under the stars. I like the feel of the night breeze on my face.”

“Suppose it rains?”

“Then I’ll come inside.” When she saw his eye-brows knit in a solid line, she added, “Look, you don’t have to worry about your macho image on this trip. I don’t expect you to be uncomfortable for my sake.”

“I’ve slept out in the open plenty of times,” he protested tersely.

“Recently?”

“No.”

“Well, I do it all the time now, so I’m used to it. And I happen to like it.”

He shrugged. “Fine. Let’s take turns, then.”

With a resigned sigh, she said, “All right. Every other night I’ll sleep in the tent with your grandmother.”

“Starting tonight,” he added.

With an agreement reached, she moved toward the fire.

David watched her tend the campfire and send a plume of sparks skyward to meet the heavens. She’d lost the ponytail, and the rippling fall of her hair was full of fiery highlights. The glow of the flames reflected off her features, making her cheeks gleam like satin and painting the curve of her throat with golden light.

He stared down into his coffee cup, his heart jerking.

David appreciated the sight of a beautiful woman. And no doubt about it, Addy still had prettiness to spare. In fact, it didn’t seem as though she’d changed one bit in the time he’d been gone.

He hadn’t seriously dated in months, content to take refuge in the satisfaction of hard work and the respect he received for his accomplishments. That was all he needed. That was what he knew.

All right, so maybe lately it felt as though his life had lapsed into a narrow rut, full of pools he never had time to swim in and new cars that sat in garages like zoo animals. Although dissatisfaction was inevitable once in a while, he had found that discontent eventually became a comfortable, familiar routine.

And when he felt the need to be lifted out of his circumstances, there were always females circling him like honeybees. That was one thing about the women in Hollywood. They had plenty of aggressive ambition.

But certainly he was well over any interest in Addy D’Angelo.

So stop looking for trouble, pal. Think about something else .

With an abrupt movement, he rose, as if that was all it would take to cease to know Addy’s existence.

She rocked back on her heels and looked up at him questioningly.

“Fire’s too hot to sit so close,” he said, hoping that he’d managed to keep his expression flat and uninterpretable. “And I have work to do.”

He retrieved his laptop and one of the lanterns. A few feet away from the campfire he found a perfect spot where he could keep an eye on things but might be spared the constant reminder of Addy’s disturbing presence.

The Peterson agreement. Ten minutes of the new catering contract for his production company would be enough to capture his interest and kill what was left of the evening.

His grandmother was already snoring softly when Addy rummaged through the supply box for something, then disappeared into the tent. Shadows danced in the lantern light as she moved around inside.

Good. Day one almost over , David thought as he pulled up the Peterson file on his computer. He didn’t need to spend any more time being sociable or helpful tonight.

Thirteen days to go. Way to go, McKay .

The night air seemed full of sweetness, and down by the stream a frog chorus had begun a serenade. Moonbeams braided through the clouds overhead. Perfect.

David situated himself into a comfortable position and began tapping out changes to the terms of the deal his legal team had prepared. He intended to offer it to Peterson by phone tomorrow morning.

Witness that the said first party, McKay Worldwide Inc., does hereby acknowledge unto the said second party —

He heard a muffled groan of pleasure and looked up. He could tell from the shadows on the tent wall that it was Addy, massaging lotion into her shoulders and arms.

Whereas the party of the second part, Peterson Catering, has agreed to accept a payment in the amount of —

At the sound of a tiny sigh of relaxation, he glanced up again. She was still at it.

— one hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars, to be paid over a period not to exceed three months, the first monthly installment being due and payable on the twenty-first of August —

In his peripheral vision David caught a flicker of light. He tilted his head toward the tent. Elongated shadows on the tent surface indicated that Addy had risen. He could see the outlined thrust of her breasts as she stretched and lifted the heavy sweep of hair off her neck.

Willing away that awareness, David lowered his eyes to the computer. The cursor blinked at him as if irritated. He backspaced and tried to pull concentration around him like a cloak. He red-lined the amount Legal had negotiated and began typing in the amount he intended to offer.

One hundred and fifty-five thousand dollars —

He sat there, suspended, listening to the sudden mad knocking in his chest as he tried to remember what he’d intended to type next.

One hundred and fifty-five thousand —

One hundred and —

With a small noise of self-disgust and a flick of his wrist, he closed the file and shut down the computer. How was a person supposed to concentrate here?

Shoving the laptop back into its case, he rose. He hadn’t even gotten control of his frenzied breathing enough to think, but one thing David knew for sure—he needed to get away from the suffocating enclosure of the campsite for a while.

“I’m going for a walk,” he called, setting out immediately.

Every muscle seemed to ache with bow-strung tension as, impelled by the blind instinct of flight, he followed the course of the stream. It was fortunate the moon was so bright. The last thing he needed right now was to get lost and have to count on Addy to rescue him.

He stopped to sit on a huge boulder, listening to the sounds of night creatures looking for a new darkness to call home.

And trying to cool the fire in his blood.

He didn’t need this kind of excitement. He had enough things to think about on this trip without indulging fantasies about Addy’s bare body silhouetted in lamplight. What he could use right now was a session with a very good bottle of booze or a punishing workout at the gym. Maybe a cold shower that would leave a numbness for which he would be eternally grateful…