That Reckless Night

“Yeah, well, right back at you. I value a man with a strong work ethic,” she said, placing the glass in the bathroom before shucking her robe and returning to bed. She slid between the covers and made a show of giving him her backside to communicate that she was ready for some shut-eye rather than small talk but it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to sleep. A strong arm hooked itself around the front of her stomach and pulled her against him, his nose nuzzling the back of her neck. Her first reaction was irritation and she let him know it as she flipped around to stare up at him as he positioned himself above her. “Listen, fun times are fun times but I have to work in the morning, so unless you want to find yourself sleeping on my old sofa, I suggest you settle down and keep your paws to yourself. Got it?”

He surprised her with a sexy laugh that set off a trip wire of crazy shivers shaking down her spine and she had to fight to remember that she was ready for sleep. “Going by first impressions, I didn’t take you for such a lightweight,” he teased, moving to caress her neck with the soft touch of his lips traveling across her skin. “A one-and-done kind of woman.”

Lightweight? “I am no lightweight,” she said, indignant. “I could wear you out in a heartbeat and ruin you for other women.”

“Strong words.” His tone was faintly disbelieving, but before she could offer an argument, he took away her ability to remember why she was irritated in the first place. His tongue delved deep in her mouth, tangling with hers, sliding in and out in a practiced move that kindled a fire as surely as a spark ignited dry tinder. Within moments she was gasping against his mouth, lost to the wonder of this beautiful, talented stranger as he coaxed pleasure from her body in ways that she never imagined possible. For the first time, she was the one left gasping and babbling, as every muscle tightened in a wonderful chorus of mind-bending sensations. By the time she crashed back to earth, she was wrung out like a washcloth after a sinkful of dishes.

A satisfied sigh sounded from her left and she smiled at the irony that she may have found her sexual match in a man she was destined to never see again by morning. Ah well, that was life, she supposed. She couldn’t help the welcome drag on her eyelids as every ounce of her strength fled in the warm wake of her extreme sexual satisfaction. She didn’t even protest when he pulled her close, manhandling her in a way that she never allowed, much less enjoyed, but somehow, when done by this man...it was okay. Actually, it was more than okay; it was sublime.

* * *

SLEEP DIDN’T FIND Jeremiah as quickly as it did his gently snoring partner but he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things than to be cuddled up to a beautiful naked woman on a frigid cold night. But his mind was moving in dizzying circles even as his body was heavy with sated pleasure. The tension that continually corded his shoulders and kinked his neck—no matter how many times his chiropractor back in Wyoming had tried to pull it out—was gone, and for that, he was inordinately happy.

However, no matter how sated his body, his mind refused to give up the images he was doing his best to run away from. Maybe he should’ve picked a tropical climate instead of a place where it snowed like it did in Wyoming, only ten times heavier.

Tyler had loved the snow; the kid had been fearless on his snowboard. The memory of his eleven-year-old son shredding the slopes elicited a brief smile that faded almost as quickly as it came. Fearless...maybe that had been the problem.

Maybe if he’d cautioned Tyler to be less fearless, the boy wouldn’t have been crushed beneath his ATV in a rollover that had happened faster than a rattlesnake strike. Maybe. Maybe. God, he hated that word.

Shake it off, Jeremiah. Nothing you say or think is going to bring him back. His own counsel always sounded so pathetic in his head whenever he tried to pull himself from that ledge of depression and grief. It’d been a year since Tyler died. Eight months since his wife had left him. Seven months since he’d been served divorce papers. A lot could happen in a year.

The woman in his arms stirred and curled her arm around his stomach, pulling him closer as she buried her nose against the side of his chest. She fit against him as if she were made to.

He touched her hair lightly, enjoying the texture of the dark strands against the pads of his fingers. He didn’t know how a woman like her wasn’t attached, but for selfish reasons, he was glad. He couldn’t imagine a better person to break the seal on his self-imposed celibacy than a hot stranger who wanted nothing more than a dirty, sweaty good time.

He sighed and allowed his eyelids to slowly shut. He was here in Homer for a fresh start with a new job. Tomorrow, he’d put a clean brush of paint on the old and battered walls of his life.

But tonight...he was going to just enjoy the simple pleasure of the feel of a woman’s body pressed against his and sleep.

* * *

MIRANDA NEVER SLEPT in on a workday and she was never late.

Except today.

She opened her eyes blearily to find the pale watery light of the morning filtering into her bedroom and for a moment she was disoriented by her surroundings. What the...?

“What time is it?” she muttered, her mouth tasting like the bottom of a dirty boot. Why had she drunk so many tequila poppers last night? Major mistake. Her head was splitting. With all the sharpness of a dull ax blade, Miranda pulled the memory of last night from her mental cache and glanced around in surprise to realize that her temporary lover had done her a solid by letting himself out before she woke.

And he’d even left her a note. She grabbed the folded paper and focused on the masculine scrawl.

Homer has one hell of a welcome party. Way better than a gift basket.

Miranda dropped the note to her nightstand and fought the growing disquiet churning her insides. On one hand, she ought to be happy that he’d saved them both from any awkward, stilted conversation exchanged in the harsh morning light, but on the other hand, it didn’t sit well with her ego that he’d been the one to simply slip out the door while she’d been dead to the world. However, the bigger issue was far more upsetting than a bruise to her ego. Her temporary lover wasn’t a tourist.

And by the sounds of it...he was taking up residence right here in Homer.

“I’ll be damned,” she said, barking a short, irritated laugh, and headed to the shower. The town was too small to hope they wouldn’t run into each other at the grocery store at some point, but Miranda wasn’t above hoping and praying Homer simply wasn’t to his liking and he would leave.

Why? Because there’d been a moment when lying in his arms had felt completely natural—almost as if she’d been waiting to find herself in those arms since the day she was born—and Miranda didn’t want any part of anything that resembled that.

Besides, she already had her plus one—her son.

And she sure as hell wasn’t auditioning anyone for the role of daddy anytime soon...if ever. Much to her mother’s chagrin, of course.

With a mild shudder at the very idea, she dropped any lingering thoughts about her overnight guest and, after double-checking with her son’s paternal grandmother that the older woman had gotten Talen to school on time this morning, Miranda rushed to shower away the night’s activities and get ready for work.

Today was a big deal, which made her oversleeping a major screwup and only added fuel to the argument that she hadn’t been ready for the position the new guy had managed to snag from beneath her nose. She wanted to look the new boss in the eye and see for herself if he was up to the job because there was no better tracker in the department than Miranda, aside from her brother Trace, of course. And no one knew the surrounding area better than Miranda.

Miranda pulled into the slushy parking lot, the crunch of dirt and thin layer of snow beneath her knobby tires a familiar and welcome sound, but as she walked up the stairs she couldn’t shake the feeling of disquiet that dogged her steps. Sour grapes and disappointment, that was all it was, she told herself.

Talen’s paternal grandmother, a Yupik Native, had always praised Miranda’s intuition, saying it was that inner knowing that helped her to navigate the dangerous Kenai Mountains when tracking the hapless lost. As Miranda pushed open the door to the Fish and Game Department field office to stride inside, it was then that she knew her intuition had been spot-on.

Oh, shit. She wanted to die. Or at the very least sink through the floor and disappear.

Standing there addressing the office, dressed sharp as a tack, looking fresh and starkly handsome, was her one-night stand—and apparently, her new boss.

Hell, she didn’t even know his name but she vividly remembered what he looked like naked in the pale moonlight.

Somehow, she didn’t think that information was going to be helpful.

Well, her mother had warned her that her bad behavior was going to catch up to her someday.

Guess today was the day. And it felt every bit as wretched as her mother had probably hoped that it would.

Yay me.

CHAPTER THREE

JEREMIAH ADDRESSED HIS new team, looking at faces that he would soon learn to know and personalities he would learn to understand, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made the right choice as he stood before strangers, especially when he knew for a fact he was running away from a particular heartache.

He had no doubt he could do the job. It wasn’t that he was having a sudden attack of inadequacy fears, rather he knew he should have been a bit more adult about his decision to leave everything he knew in Wyoming to start fresh in a town where he knew no one and felt even more isolated than ever.

Wyoming had been good to him until it wasn’t, taking the one thing from him that he’d loved the most—his son.

The sound of the door opening and the wind whistling through the open doorway caused him to pause midsentence and turn.

It was then that any misgivings he’d had about taking the job coalesced into a big ball of certainty. It was her—of all the people who could’ve walked through that door in this little fishing town, why did it have to be her? He couldn’t believe his dumb luck—some might even say it was painfully ironic but he was in no mood to appreciate the wry humor—but there she was in all her glory, only this time...she was clothed and in a fish-and-game uniform.

He swallowed and hoped his shock wasn’t plainly evident to his entire team as he stared at the woman he’d buried himself in several times only twelve short hours ago.

And he didn’t even know her name. Hadn’t that been the stipulation she’d set? And he’d been only too happy to play along. Of all the stupid moves...

Their stares collided, a combination of dismayed surprise and horror, as both processed the reality of the situation. Yeah, talk about awkward. It was his first day, and he’d already slept with an employee. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t known; all that mattered was that now they had history and it was likely to become even more complicated, which was the worst way to kick off a fresh start.

“Everything all right, Miranda?” asked a woman named Mary Calhoun, who had introduced herself the minute he’d crossed the threshold. “We were starting to worry. Is Talen okay? Did he catch that flu bug that’s going around? It’s not like you to be late.”

Miranda. Her name was Miranda. And who was Talen? He rolled her name around in his mind. It fit her—strong, bold and every bit as fierce as he suspected her personality was. Damn, if she wasn’t as beautiful in the morning as she was in moonlight. Definitely not the way he wanted to start their professional relationship. There were too many images in his head of her naked in the throes of passion to shake free. How the hell was he supposed to act? He was on unprecedented ground and he hated it.

“I overslept,” she murmured, edging her way past him as she took her place among her peers. He didn’t miss how her gaze seemed to skitter around the room, content to rest on anything but his own gaze. Not that he blamed her—if he weren’t the boss he probably would have done an about-face the minute he realized who she was. But that wasn’t the case and they didn’t have that option. He was here to do a job—there was no turning back for him—and so he had to make the best of it, which meant dealing with the fact that he’d inadvertently slept with one of his employees. They were both adults, and they would just have to handle it like adults.

“My name is Jeremiah Burke, and I’m your new director. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out for a cordial shake as if he hadn’t been holding her in his arms a mere four hours ago. She stared at his hand as if it were a snake that might bite her but, realizing that to refuse his polite gesture would raise unnecessary questions, she relented and offered her hand. As his hand closed around the warmth of her skin images of their time together immediately assaulted his brain.

He fixed a polite smile on his face even as his mind wreaked havoc on his ability to stay focused. There was no denying she was beautiful but it wasn’t as if she was the first beautiful woman he’d ever run across. There was something about her, though, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d already slept with her, that frankly messed with his ability to think straight. He refocused with effort. “I was just making introductions to the team when you came in. I’ll do a quick recap for you. I’m from Wyoming. I’m used to cold weather. I love the snow, although I’m not a huge fan of fish and that might be my undoing.”

“You just haven’t had fish properly prepared. Miranda, you ought to give him your smothered halibut and rice recipe,” Mary suggested. “If you weren’t a fan of fish before moving to Homer, you will be soon enough. We have more ways to cook a fish than you can shake a stick at. You’ll learn to love it.”

“I didn’t realize that Homer was such a big halibut outlet. As far as loving fish, I’ll just have to take that on faith because I’m probably the only guy in Wyoming who didn’t enjoy the sport.”

Miranda appeared stymied as he made small talk in the hopes of putting everyone at ease. He was relieved when she was appropriately cordial, even a little on the stiff side. “Welcome to Homer,” she said, meeting his gaze for the briefest of moments before quickly moving on.

The statement was appropriate to the situation but he couldn’t help but wonder if she was referencing his short little note that had been meant to be witty and tongue-in-cheek, which frankly made him want to clap his hand over his face for leaving a note in the first place.

“Miranda is the best tracker in the state,” Mary offered with pride, but Miranda seemed uncomfortable with the compliment and actually murmured something to the contrary to which the woman immediately disagreed. “Now, don’t let her tell you that she’s not. She’s going to tell you that her brother Trace is the best tracker, and don’t get me wrong, he is good, better than good. But Miranda has a gift and if I were lost in those mountains I’d want her looking for me.”

He lifted his brow at the praise and the way Miranda seemed discomfited by it and wondered what had happened in this woman’s life to make her the way she was. It was a mystery that he didn’t want to figure out but it pulled at him just the same. He pushed on. “Your previous director shared his admiration for Miranda’s skill. I’m pleased to have someone with such talent on my team.” And he left it at that. The previous director had also shared that Miranda was hardheaded, at times difficult, and downright ornery. One thing the previous director hadn’t mentioned was how mind-jarringly gorgeous she was. Stop going there. Was this going to be a problem? He refocused again. “I promise I’ll do my best to lead this team as well as your previous director. I know I have big shoes to fill. Or should I say snowshoes.” Gahhh...now he was just disintegrating into bad comedy because his brain had turned to mush. The polite chuckles that followed made him want to assure them that he wouldn’t be that guy who was always cracking jokes and trying to be the office card. But Miranda saved him by interjecting.

“Are we finished with the introductions...?” she asked. She was clearly impatient to get on with her day and he didn’t blame her. There was plenty of work to be done that had nothing to do with the awkwardness between them.

“Miranda, don’t be rude,” murmured her friend with a mildly worried tone. “There’s nothing wrong with getting to know our new director.”

Miranda’s face blanched and Jeremiah thought she might actually say something that would reveal their inappropriate encounter, but she recovered well and simply shrugged as if to say this is me—take it or leave it. He had to respect the way she was handling things and was happy to take his cue from her.

“No, she’s right. We all have plenty of work to do and I’m keeping you from it to blather on about my past when what’s really important is the future. I’ll trust you to get to your regular schedules and I will work to catch up. So for now I’m going to lock myself in my new office to try and get my bearings. We can reconvene at lunch. Sound like a plan?” There were murmurs of assent as everyone began to disperse, and Miranda wasted no time in disappearing. The fact that his stare wanted to follow wherever she went was troubling but he had bigger issues to deal with and that included establishing himself as the new director of the Homer Department of Fish and Game, above and apart from his personal dilemma. Work had always had the power of distracting him from whatever was happening in his life. This new complication would be no different.

* * *

MIRANDA WANTED TO PUKE. She’d never been so wretchedly embarrassed by an encounter with a one-night stand and that included the unfortunate nuisance of Luke Prather trailing her like a lovesick hound after their one night together. If her mother had been counting on karma to bite her in the ass for all of her past bad behavior it was coming to pass right at this moment. Miranda couldn’t disappear into her office fast enough but, of course, locking herself away to wallow in her misery wasn’t on the agenda. Mary, the office mate who had been singing her praises so embarrassingly to Jeremiah, was quick to follow.

“Girl, you are running like the devil is on your heels. What’s gotten into you?”

Miranda wiped the dot of sweat that beaded her brow as her adrenaline raced through her veins and wished she could get a do-over for the past twenty-four hours. She should’ve listened to Russ when he’d said to stop drinking. She should have chosen to stay home instead of dropping Talen off at his grandmother’s so she could drink herself stupid. She should have read a book, watched a movie, dug a ditch—anything that would have kept her from bedding her boss. But it wasn’t as if she could tell Mary that. It wasn’t as if she could tell anyone. In fact, the one person she could talk to about this was the one person she didn’t want to talk to about it. “I’m just not excited about meeting the person who took my job.” Well, that was half-true. She’d thought for sure the director position had been hers and it’d been a nasty surprise when she’d learned that she had, in fact, not been selected. “What do you think of him?”

Mary, a middle-aged woman who liked to consider herself hip and cool because she tweeted on her phone every five seconds like the teenagers did even though half the time she did it wrong, considered the question for a minute then nodded decisively. “I like him.”

“Why?” The question popped from Miranda’s mouth before she could stop it and Mary graced her with a quizzical expression for her sour reaction. Miranda tried to do some damage control. “I mean, how do you know that he’s good for the job? I can’t imagine anyone would do a better job than me. I know this place like the back of my hand, and that’s saying a lot considering how big Alaska is.” She was babbling, throwing out excuses for her odd behavior, but Mary didn’t seem to notice, which didn’t say much for her usual behavior. “I’m just saying, just because he’s nice on the eyes doesn’t mean he’s the right man for the job. You know what I mean?”

Mary frowned. “I think you should give him a chance. I know you’re disappointed that you didn’t get the job, and you would have been a great director, but the fact of the matter is, unless you want to start job hunting, you’d better start getting on board. You’re not going to make any points by cheesing off the new boss.”

Miranda fought to keep her expression from revealing the turmoil churning her brain but she felt off-kilter, which was something that rarely happened to her. If only Mary knew how many points she may have made between the sheets last night, not that those points could help her now. Crap. What a mess. Why couldn’t the new boss have been a troll? Someone more like their old boss. Virgil Eckhart had been a short, squat, balding man with a barrel chest and a fondness for cheap cigars that he only got the opportunity to smoke when he was ice fishing because his wife hated the smell. There was no way in hell Miranda would’ve ever wanted to sleep with him. Not even if it had meant a promotion. But then, Virgil had become something of a father figure when her own father simply checked out emotionally. She slowly refocused when she realized Mary was waiting for a response. “Don’t worry,” she said, trying to put Mary at ease. “I’ll make nice with the new boss.” Cringe. “I have no interest in job hunting anytime soon.”

Mary’s relief was evident in her wide smile. “Thank God. I was worried that you were going to be a bit of a pill with the new boss. I should have known you’d be mature about it. I’m sorry for not giving you the credit you deserve. Honestly, I don’t know what I was worried about now that I think about it. You’re not the hotheaded kid you used to be. You’re a mother, for crying out loud. Sheesh. Sometimes I embarrass myself. Jim is always telling me to stop being so dramatic.”

Miranda laughed, the sound hollow to her ears, yet Mary remained oblivious to her distress, thank heaven. “You worry too much, Mary. Now, don’t you have work to do?” she teased. “Go on, get out of here.”

Mary left the office and Miranda expelled an audible sigh. “Of all the rotten luck...”

Was karma kicking her in the ass for everything she’d been doing over the past years? It hardly seemed fair when karma had already kicked the shit out of their family.

Laughter rang in her memory, pulling her away from her present pickle and into a time before her sister had died.

“Your snowboarding skills are about as good as your cooking skills,” Wade had teased Simone as he slowed to a stop beside her with a laugh. She’d landed on her rear for the third time as she’d tried unsuccessfully to slow down properly and instead simply tumbled to her behind in a spray of snow.

“Stop laughing and help me up,” Simone grumbled, then wobbled and lost her balance, falling again. She slapped the snow and pouted. “I hate snowboarding. I want to go back to skis.”

Miranda pulled up alongside her baby sister as Wade and Trace followed on their boards. They’d all switched from skis to boards except Simone, and she was having a difficult time making the transition. “Don’t give up, Simone. We all fall when we’re learning. Are you going to be a quitter just because it’s hard?” she asked. “Give it a chance. Besides, if you don’t want to be left behind, you need to learn.”

“Come on, klutz,” Trace said as he and Wade helped Simone to her feet. “You got this. Try again. It’ll get easier.”

“It won’t. I suck at it.”

“It’s true. You kinda do,” Miranda agreed, earning a black look from her twelve-year-old sister as Simone wiped the snow from her snowsuit. “But,” Miranda added with a wink, “at least you look good doing it.”

At the small compliment, Simone broke out into a reluctant smile, which seemed to bolster her courage and firm her determination. “Okay. I’ll try one more time but that’s it.” She sighed and looked to Trace and Wade. “Show me again how to stop....”