Rock Solid

Three

At 6:29 a.m., Lexie’s right hand poked out from the cocoon of blankets, lifted midair and waited. When the alarm clock buzzed 6:30, her palm slammed on the sucker almost before it had a chance to screech.

Blearily she opened her eyes. She was used to insomnia, used to surviving for days on end with short-sleep. She was also used to getting up at insanely early hours. But she wasn’t used to dreaming about strange men, and it put her off her stride.

She swung her legs over the side of the unfamiliar bed, switched on the light, winced at the glare and then tested her body for complaints. A lack-of-sleep headache pounded in her temples. Her feet hurt from too many hours of traveling the day before, wearing impractical shoes. The muscles in her neck were painfully tensed from too many hours of tossing and turning. All in all, Lexie figured she should be good and miserable.

Instead, an image of Cash McKay pounced in her mind like a charge of fresh, delightful, invigorating lightning. Instantly she forgot all the creaking body parts—or else they self-healed with amazing speed. She couldn’t wait to get up and see what the day brought.

Yikes. The terrifying thought bounced through her head that she was losing what little mind she had left.

By the time she’d slipped on pale jeans, a pastel shirt and new hiking shoes—the leather soft as butter—she was scowling…and feeling more like herself. How could she possibly be looking forward to this day? If she were at home, by now she’d have made three phone calls, checked her home fax and inhaled early-morning CNN before her teeth were brushed. She didn’t know how the Dow or NASDAQ had closed yesterday. She could hear birds, but not a single sound of anything electronic anywhere. It wasn’t natural.

She wasn’t going to make it here four weeks. Heck, she wasn’t going to make it four days.

And downstairs, there he was—and not just Cash, but his sidekick. Actually, through the thick red-stone door of the dining room, a number of male bodies were milling around the laid-out buffet, but it was only the dad and son team who snared her attention. One of them was practicing spelling words for a test that day, and all Lexie could think was how adorable they were, both in worn-in jeans and dark long-sleeved T-shirts and boots, both with a cowlick, both with the same swaggering walk. The pair of them could have a matching sign on their foreheads—Cash and Son, two against the world, no women wanted.

Since she wasn’t looking to be a woman in anyone’s life, Lexie felt unsure why the two McKays put such a darn lump in her throat. They were just so…darling together. So fierce. So obviously a family, with love they wore like a protective shield. They so obviously belonged together and watched out for each other. But then the one with those sexy, battered eyes spotted her in the doorway.

“Morning, Lex, come on in and grab a plate. You met Slim Farraday and Stuart Rennbacker last night, didn’t you?”

She greeted both the guys, and yes, she remembered them from dinner the evening before. Slim was the banking mogul, a little man with kind eyes of around sixty who walked with the frailty of someone who’d recently been ill. She’d instinctively wanted to mother him, and they’d had a great time talking capital gains and futures the night before. Stuart was on his third stay at Silver Mountain, and was a blustery, gruff man in his forties, with the look of an executive and worry built-in around the eyes. They’d both been welcoming to her yesterday, but since it’d been a long sleepless night, she wasn’t capable of being friendly until she’d mainlined a couple cups of the obvious.

“Sorry, babe, no coffee.”

She spun around at the sound of Keegan’s voice. Judging from looks, the scruffy-faced kid couldn’t be more than a few years younger than her, but Lexie felt as if she were worlds older in life. Keegan was just one of those perpetual-student types of people. Sweet. Idealistic. Full of good cheer and endless ideas—which meant he was annoying first thing in the morning. She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, no coffee?”

Keegan motioned to the tray he was carting in from the kitchen. “I’ve got a high energy drink made for all of you. It’ll give you all the zoom that coffee does but without any of the negative side effects. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

On a scale between grape cough syrup and castor oil, Keegan’s high energy drink fell about in the middle. Disgusting. And it had no caffeine. In spite of the bulging buffet table, the offerings were primarily granola and fruit. No eggs Benedict, no toast slathered with guava jelly, no nice, fattening, cholesterol-stuffed doughnuts. Ten minutes later, Lexie was hustled outside with the guys, her stomach whining from starvation and deprivation both.

She wasn’t into nature—and didn’t want to be—but even a hard-core morning grump couldn’t help but savor this one. A lake cupped between two mountains gleamed like sterling silver in the morning sunlight. A whisper of fog danced around the trees, the scent of wet pines so strong it was almost a perfume. Squirrels scampered out of their path. A deer frolicked so close that Lexie tripped and almost ran headlong into a tree because she couldn’t stop staring at the darling. And the sky was downright scary. It was such a stinging-fresh blue that she suddenly realized how long it’d been since she’d been anywhere that city pollution hadn’t grayed and diluted the sky’s natural hues.

The best part of the view, though, was watching their leader. Cash hiked the group up a hill so steep that Lexie started suffering oxygen deprivation…but she still felt the emotional tug that she’d experienced the night before. She’d loved how he’d confronted her about Sammy—it wasn’t about her personally, she understood that, but about anyone who could potentially hurt the boy. She loved his protectiveness, loved the look in his eyes when he talked about Sammy, and yeah, she’d liked that personal pull between the two of them, too.

He hadn’t kissed her…but he’d wanted to. And she hadn’t kissed him…but she’d wanted to. It had been a long time, if ever, since she’d felt that kind of rope-tug for a stranger—particularly for someone so completely unlike herself.

Right then, though, he was herding his minigroup in a circle. “Okay, everybody…Lexie, you’re our new man today but as you’ll discover, we start every morning the same way, with some kind of problem-solving exercise. It’s kind of a way we warm up together, and first, we pair up. I’ll work with Stuart, and Lexie, you pair up with Slim Farraday…Slim really knows the ropes.”

Lexie immediately smiled reassuringly at the frail-looking Slim, thinking nothing sounded too tough so far. The “problem-solving” business sounded interesting rather than athletic, and surely anything that Slim could physically do, she could do as well? She pushed up her pastel shirt to the elbows as Cash continued talking.

“Okay. Lexie and Slim, this is your problem for the morning. You see the creek beyond the trees there?” Of course they saw the creek. Impossible to miss anything so dazzling in the infernal morning sunshine. “All right. You two have a half an hour to get to the other side of it. That’s all you have to do.”

“Just hold on a minute, Geronimo.” Lexie waved her hand to catch his attention. “There’s no bridge. And you didn’t give us any tools or ladders or anything—”

“That’s right,” Cash affirmed. “In fact, that’s the point. You’re going to have to use whatever you can find in nature to solve the problem.”

Hands on hips, Lexie wandered over to the dazzling creek in question. The water was so clear that she could easily see the creek-middle had to be waist deep. The distance couldn’t be eight feet, more like seven, but still too far to jump, and certainly too challenging a distance for Slim to try jumping. One dip of her finger announced that the water temperature was sub zero—if that warm—so wading across was completely out of the question.

Mr. Farraday sidled up next to her. “Cash always seems to give us what looks like an insolvable problem. But every morning so far, we’ve managed to find some way to solve it in spite of ourselves.”

“And we’ll solve this one, too,” Lexie assured him. She’d made her first paper million before the age of twenty-two, hadn’t she? How hard could it be to cross a little creek? And Cash—the cad—was already out of sight. Some gentleman he turned out to be, pairing the two husky macho guys, and leaving an undersized Ms. Klutz with Mr. Frail.

“I know we can do it,” Mr. Farraday affirmed, and then scratched his chin. “But…how?”

“Hmm…” Again, she pushed up her sleeves. Her system was still offended at being deprived of caffeine, CNN and her ticker tape, yet somehow her pulse was picking up a charge. Challenges had always been one of her favorite things. Inexplicably it made her feel…safe…when she took on something that was supposed to be impossible for her to do.

Firing up on the problem, now, she motioned to the woods behind them. “God knows, I’ve been tripping over fallen branches since we started walking this morning…so how about this. Slim, you scout out the longest branches you can find. Don’t lift ’em. I’ll lift ’em. And we’ll just make ourselves a bridge out of the fallen branches, secured by those rocks in the middle of creek…and then we’ll just walk across. Piece of cake, right, partner?” She lifted her hand.

Slim gave her a gentle high-five. “Right, partner.”

When Cash heard the sound of a female shriek, he took off at a dead run—knowing, of course, who had to be doing the shrieking.

He charged around trees and brush, barreling to the creek edge…only to see Lexie—still caterwauling—sitting on her butt in the middle of the creek, soaked right up to her neck.

Even as he clomped in the water to fetch her, he was mentally shaking his head. There was a reason he’d paired Lexie with Slim this morning for this particular problem-solving exercise—and blast it, the reason was that she couldn’t fail. The only logical way to cross the creek was to make a bridge of branches—and the terrain had the whole winter’s worth of down pine branches to make that easy. And they’d done that. Made a darn secure little bridge across the water. And Slim Farraday, with no problem at all, even with his arthritic hip, had made it to the other side with no difficulty.

But then there was Ms. Klutz.

“Cash! Help me! I’m going to die of hypothermia! It’s so cold I can’t breathe and I can’t move and I can’t—”

“You’re not going to die and it’s not that cold.” He bent down and grabbed her. For a drowned rat—and a miniaturesized drowned rat at that—she weighed a ton. The branches and mud in her hair didn’t help. And when she hurled her arms around him in a monkey-hold, she almost tipped both of them back in the water—not to mention that her soaked, clinging body completely drenched his in two seconds flat.

God knew why he had the sudden, desperate urge to kiss her. There wasn’t a hormone alive that could conceivably wake up in these temperatures or conditions, and his mind wasn’t on sex but on frustration. The first exercise he gave clients was always intended to give them a feeling of success and confidence, and he’d wanted that even more for Lexie, because she’d been so damn clear that she already expected to fail. Only damnation, no one had trouble with this exercise. Ever. Before. Her.

“I’m freezing, I’m freezing—”

He knew. He could feel her tight, wrinkled nipples, through his drenched shirt and hers. He could feel her fanny under his hands as well, maybe even feel her goose bumps. God knew, she was clutching him tighter than glue. “I know you’re cold. But you’re going to be back at the lodge and climbing in warm, dry clothes in ten minutes, tops, I promise. And after that, you partner with me,” he said irritably. Hell, his teeth were starting to chatter now, too.

“With you?”

“Yeah. With me.”

She lifted her chin so she could look in his eyes. “Um, Cash? This was my fault. Not yours. I told you I wouldn’t do well with the program, didn’t I? I don’t do well with anything physical. It’s just reality—”

Maybe it was her reality, but it wasn’t his. Any other client who’d taken a tumble, he’d give them the morning off, let them soak up some sunshine with their feet up. But a principle was on the line here.

Cash wasn’t sure what the principle was, but there had to be one. He hadn’t built Silver Mountain into a first-class executive retreat by letting clients fail. That was part of it. His whole program was based on making sure every dad-blamed exhausted executive got something good out of it, and he sure wasn’t breaking that record for her. And somehow she’d done something to him so that he couldn’t get his mind off her. That had gotten tangled up in the principle, too.

Bottom line was, an hour later, Keegan had been sent out to handle the program for the others, and Cash was fresh-showered, dry-clothed and pacing the front lobby, waiting for her. Spare minutes after that, Lexie bounced down the stairs, wearing a new pastel pair of jeans and another cute little pair of tennies and what looked like a raw-silk shirt to him—even if the pattern was a country plaid. Her hair was dry already—how long could it take to dry a couple of inches of bouncy curl? And she was smiling up at him before he’d even had a chance to erase his scowl.

“Okay. I’m warmed up and ready for the next torture,” she said lightly.

“Good.” He didn’t fill her in on the next plan until they’d hiked a good distance up the mountain. She spotted the outside climbing gym, but obviously had no idea what it was.

He unlocked the storage shed and started gearing up, first choosing the right helmet and harness for Lexie, then sorting through the obvious hexes and cams and lobster claws for the exercise…but he kept a wary eye on Lex. He knew she wasn’t going to go for this easily. Temporarily, though, the view just seemed to both bewilder and confuse her. She’d perched her hands on her hips and kept spinning around.

“This is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. What on earth are all those ropes and poles and boards for? It looks like a playground in the sky,” she joked.

“That’s exactly what it is. A playground in the sky. It’s where we teach the ropes course, the basics of mountain climbing.” He motioned to various sites over their heads. “There are about thirty different exercises you can do up there. The climbing wall is just what it looks like. So is the rope ladder. But then there are other spots, where you can practice using anchors and belaying techniques—”

“Whoa.” Her smile died faster than a switched off faucet. “Double whoa. Cash, didn’t we talk about this yesterday? I’d never have come here if I wasn’t serious about giving your whole program a go. Just because I’m lousy at athletics doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try almost anything. But climbing is honestly different—”

“Yeah. So you said yesterday. Climbing was the only thing you didn’t want to do.” He tried fitting a white helmet on her head, only to discover that it was way too big. He clipped back to the shed for the children’s sized helmets.

“Yes. For real. Because I’m afraid of heights.”

“I understand.” The red helmet fit her perfectly, even if it did smoosh down the riot of dark curls. Those soft dark eyes staring up at him were bleak with dread. “That’s exactly why I want you to do this, Lexie. Because you’re scared. When you came here, you agreed that I’d be the boss, remember? And I’m not asking you to try climbing to make you miserable. I’m asking you because of what happened this morning.”

“You mean my falling in the creek?” she asked in confusion.

“Uh-huh. I gave you the easiest exercise we have. And you flunked it. So now we’re going to try the opposite—giving you something that’s tough for you. And you’re not only not going to flunk this one, you’re going to ace it.”

“Uh, Cash. I don’t think so. In fact…see my hands? They’re already getting sweaty. And my stomach. Even thinking about heights is making my stomach turn over. The thing is…”

She never finished that sentence. She stopped talking when he started fitting the climbing harness on her. There was nothing suggestive about putting a helmet on her head—but the harness was necessarily more intimate. She was fully clothed in jeans, of course. But each leg had to be fit in a stirrup, and secured around her upper thighs. He did the securing.

Then the harness had to be worked over her hips and secured at her waist.

He did that securing, too.

He’d done it for a zillion women. And men. It was part of his job, for Pete’s sake. It was one of the ways he could guarantee a client’s safety, because he supervised the equipment use every step of the way. Only that’s what he was always thinking about. Safety. Not thighs and fannies. Not specifically the way her slim thigh tensed when he buckled the harness snug. Not specifically the way his knuckles accidentally brushed against her pelvis. Not specifically the way his fingers curled around the harness as he adjusted the leather around her hips and fanny. Not the way her eyes suddenly shot to his when he adjusted the buckle at her waist.

Since Lexie seemed to have quit breathing altogether, Cash figured he’d better finish that sentence for her. “The thing is…rock climbing is about trust. Not blind trust. Proven trust. There are different kinds of rock climbing, Lex. What we’re doing isn’t ‘free’ climbing. It’s called ‘technical’ climbing.”

She didn’t answer. When she looked down, though, to where his hands were still fumbling at her waist, she very likely saw his zipper jutting out as if someone had stuck a long, smooth rock in his jeans. Well, hell. It was a knee-jerk biological response. Nothing a guy could help. How could a man possibly touch a woman like Lex and not feel a volatile response?

“Technical climbing is especially about trust,” he said gruffly. “Because I’m going to be attached to you with equipment the whole time. You’re afraid of falling, right?”

Suddenly she was looking straight in his eyes and not an inch lower. “Yes.”

“So that’s what we’re going to do, Lex. You’re going to climb up a bit, and then we’re going to make you fall. Only I’m going to be attached to you with equipment the whole time. Nothing dangerous is going to happen. There is no possible way I would let you get hurt, do you hear me? And I’m going to prove that to you. Because when you fall, I’ll be there for you.”

Somehow anything he said seemed to be coming out wrong—as if he were talking about falling in love instead of falling off rocks. And there was this look in Lexie’s eyes that amounted to a violent “no” no matter what he was talking about.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Cash. I do. I met you and I trusted you on sight,” she assured him. “Only I’d rather eat snails than be suspended from any height. Look. Maybe I’m just not cut out to even try your program. Don’t take it personally. It’s not—it’s me. I’m fabulous with money, it’s my thing, but get me around anything physical—”

He never meant to kiss her. Didn’t even know he was going to do it. It was about her trying to be funny about being scared. It was about his feeling bad about her falling in the creek. It was because she’d gotten Sammy to talk to her yesterday, and because she looked so cute in the helmet, and because he was already turned on from fitting her in the harness stirrups, and…hell. He didn’t really have a clue why he reached for her.

He just did.

She must have guessed a millisecond before it was coming because her lips parted—as if in shock. Or as if she planned to say something. As far as Cash could tell, Lexie had something to say about almost everything.

That was about the last coherent thought he had for quite a while.

She tasted like something expensive and forbidden and desired. Her lips…nothing was that soft. Nothing in this life. Although the morning had been cool, now there was the barest breeze in the air, sweet and heavy with spring scents. The scent of longing. The scent of young dreams. The scent of yearning.

It wasn’t that Cash forgot that every single damn woman in his life had caused him nothing but trouble. It was just…he didn’t care right then.

There was a hush in the air. It was coming from her. There was a drumroll of need pounding in his pulse. It was coming from her. There was a willingness floating through his bloodstream, a willingness to do something damn stupid—like get involved with her, a woman who was leaving no later than four weeks from now…and that was rashly assuming she made it four days. But the desire punching him in the gut suddenly made all that common sense seem no-account foolishness.

Amazing. That he’d needed her all this time and hadn’t known.

Amazing. He pushed off the helmet and got his hands in her hair—amazed that he’d survived this long before giving in to such a fierce need. The texture of her wily, unruly curls, the look of the silky sunlight on her cheek, the sound of her sudden yielding sigh…ah, hell, there was no analyzing any of it.

He took her mouth and then again, tasting her, sampling her, then coming back for the whole feast. Tongues touched tongues, then tangled. He swooped her closer, half lifting her, not trying to be crude, not wanting to be, but if he couldn’t feel her breasts and pelvis layered intimately against him, he wasn’t positive he’d managed to survive another second.

Those small, slim hands suddenly willingly slid around his neck. Another sigh whispered from her throat, caught between kisses, trapped between kisses. She was still wearing the leather climbing harness, which in no way inhibited movement but only protected her from danger. Only they weren’t climbing now, and he had no harness to protect himself, not when she surged up on tiptoe and robbed him of a kiss that he wasn’t necessarily planning to give away. She could convince a saint to take up sin. And oh, man.

She was good.

Sunlight speared in the middle of the forest, washing them in that magic light. He didn’t give a damn. His work—forget that, too. The two clients finished their morning exercise, the lodge, the bills, his missing sister, Hannah—he didn’t care about any of it. When he finally yanked his head up to haul in some air, he wasn’t sure where he’d just been—where they’d just been—but it sure as hell wasn’t his Silver Mountain lodge in Idaho.