Warm & Willing

Sam knew that snakes were in deep hibernation at this time of year. But if Sarah thought she’d been bitten, it was his duty to investigate.

“This is the ultimate humiliation. I think I’d prefer to die from the poison,” Sarah said, reluctantly tugging her jeans down.

Sam ran his hand over the gentle curve of her hip. He couldn’t see a single mark. “I suppose it could be a snakebite. Maybe I should suck out the venom.”

“Don’t you dare!” Sarah cried.

“Snake poison can be deadly,” he reminded her.

She sighed, shaking her head. “All right. Go ahead.”

God, it was fun to mess with her. “Hold still.” Softly Sam pressed his mouth to her hip, then touched her skin with his tongue.

Sarah turned around, regarding him suspiciously. “I wasn’t bitten by a snake, was I?”

He smiled. “No. But I’m sure enjoying the view.”

Dear Reader,

It’s very difficult to know what to say. For eleven years Harlequin Temptation has been my home. I’ve written over forty books for this series, and now this one is my last.

I remember my first book so well—Indecent Exposure. It seems like just yesterday that I got the call from Harlequin, telling me they were interested in publishing my manuscript. And since then I’ve had the privilege of creating many stories to share with you.

I hope you’ll continue to look for my books under the Harlequin imprint. The Mighty Quinns will be back in February with my first family saga, The Promise. And then I’ll be making the move to Harlequin Blaze, where you’ll find the rest of the Quinn family in 2006.

For now, though, I hope you enjoy Warm & Willing. And visit my Web site at www.katehoffmann.com for all the news about my upcoming releases.

Best wishes,

Kate Hoffmann

Books by Kate Hoffmann

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

795—ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT

821—MR. RIGHT NOW

847—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: CONOR

851—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: DYLAN

855—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: BRENDAN

933—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: LIAM

937—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: BRIAN

941—THE MIGHTY QUINNS: SEAN

963—LEGALLY MINE

988—HOT & BOTHERED

Warm & Willing

Kate Hoffmann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To my editors at Harlequin Temptation, who’ve provided inspiration and support over the past eleven years. And to my readers, who’ve been with me from the first Temptation novel to the last. This one’s for you!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

1

HE FELT HER WARMTH before he even touched her. The room was dark, so black he couldn’t rely on his sense of sight. She lay beside him in the bed, the warm curve of her backside nestled into his lap. Sam hesitated before he touched her, certain that she was just a figment of his imagination, another dream that would be snatched away before he could find satisfaction.

But when he reached for her, she sighed and whispered his name. It had been such a long time, Sam wondered how he’d be able to take it slow. His body ached with the need for release, yet he didn’t want to rush. He craved the sweet torture that came with losing himself deep inside a woman.

He drew a breath and then smoothed his hand over her naked belly. Her skin was like silk, so warm and soft beneath his callused fingers. He gently turned her in his arms, finding her lips and kissing her softly. She responded immediately, opening to his gentle assault.

The kiss was intoxicating, like a glass of warmed brandy on a cold night. That warmth seeped though his bloodstream, propelled by the slow, even pulse of his heart. He didn’t know who she was or where she’d come from, but he wanted her all the same.

“Touch me,” he murmured, guiding her hand to his body. Her fingers danced over his skin, teasing at the hair on his belly before dropping lower. He held his breath, waiting for the rush of heat when she wrapped her fingers around him and began to stroke his shaft.

A low moan rumbled in his throat as he gave himself over to the intense sensations coursing through his body. He was close, his release just a heartbeat away. Still, he held back. But as red-hot desire swirled within him, he felt himself losing the battle for control.

And then, suddenly, she stopped. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, his question laced with desperation.

“Is there a donut shop on the corner or will I have to go to the airport?”

Slowly, Sam found his way back from the brink and opened his eyes. He still couldn’t see her, but he knew she’d never been there at all. Gulping in a deep breath, he sat up and glanced around the dimly lit interior of the cabin. “Donut shop?” he murmured, raking his fingers through his hair. “What the hell?”

Embers still glowed in the fireplace and as his vision cleared, he realized he’d been dreaming again. He cursed at the bizarre and decidedly unsatisfying end to his dream, then flopped back on the bed, his skin slick with sweat.

“It’s time to get out of here,” he murmured, wincing at the unresolved ache in his groin.

Light filtered through the small windows, telling him it was well past dawn. He’d tidy up the cabin, pack his things, and in a few hours, hike back to the civilized world. And once he’d reached Sutter Gap, he’d find a warm and willing woman, one who wouldn’t evaporate before he had a chance to come.

Sam crawled off the bed and walked to the rough plank door. He threw it open and let the cold air hit his naked body, blasting away the last traces of his dream. The sky above the leafless trees was clear and blue, forecasting good weather for his trip.

Spring had come to his little corner of the Appalachian wilderness two weeks ago, the rising temperatures melting the dense cover of snow in the higher elevations of the Blue Ridge Mountains. He’d thought about making the hike out a few days before, but a driving rain had changed his mind. In good weather, it took a long day’s walk to reach the little town of Sutter Gap, but if he had to slog through swollen streams and ankle-deep mud, the hike could take two.

Sam went back inside the cabin and tossed another log on the fire, poking at the embers. He’d run out of coffee last month and had been existing on the last of the beans and rice for the past week. The thought of a thick, juicy steak and a baked potato made his mouth water.

Strange how a man’s needs could be reduced to just two things—sex and red meat. And a hot shower, maybe. If he could find a way to enjoy all three at the same time, then he wouldn’t have to choose which to pursue first.

He’d lived a monkish life for the past six months, a simple existence in a rough log cabin, perched on a mountainside among the thick forests of western North Carolina. Over the past three years, the cabin had become home.

Sam smiled as he remembered his first winter living in the woods. He’d craved sex and Snickers candy bars. And when he’d returned to civilization, he’d eaten twenty candy bars in two days and spent a week in bed with a pretty bartender from a road-house outside of Asheville.

During his second winter it was sex and the music of Linkin Park. After he’d gotten back, he’d driven around for over a week with their latest CD in his disc player and spent his nights with a sexy nature guide from Smokey Mountains National Park.

Sam wondered just what kind of woman would share his bed this time around. It was always a bit tricky, explaining his situation and his particular needs to a potential bedmate. Most single women were interested in a romantic relationship, one that might result in marriage. Sam’s only interest was in a wildly exciting, no-strings attached sexual encounter lasting approximately one week.

To his surprise, he’d found quite a few women who required nothing more than unbridled passion with a skilled and eager partner. After a week together, there was nothing more to experience and both parties went away well satisfied.

Sam grabbed a pair of faded jeans from the hook on the wall and tugged them on. He’d first walked into the mountains a few months after the death of his best friend, Jeff Warren. They’d climbed Mt. McKinley together and on the way down, Jeff had been swept away in an avalanche, gone in an instant, buried deep beneath the snow.

Adventure had become almost an obsession for the two of them. Every extra dime they’d made from their jobs on Wall Street had been spent searching for bigger and better thrills. And when Sam had suggested a climb up McKinley, Jeff had barely been able to contain his enthusiasm. It had all been good, the crazy thrill of standing on top of one of the world’s seven summits. And then it had suddenly turned so bad. In a heartbeat, Jeff was dead and Sam had been left to rue the day he’d ever mentioned Mt. McKinley.

The first book Sam had read after the funeral had been Thoreau’s Walden Pond and he’d gotten from it the idea of living a quieter, simpler life, what he hoped would be a remedy for his chaotic emotions. So he’d quit his job and set out on his most challenging adventure—to spend a winter in the wilderness, completely alone.

Luckily, that first winter had been mild. He’d come with just a tent, a warm sleeping bag, some rudimentary tools and a book about wilderness survival. He’d camped on a piece of privately owned, inheld land, surrounded by national forest and set on top of a small mountain range.

In his determination to live off the land, Sam had nearly starved. He’d decided not to bring a gun for hunting and was left to fashion snares out of vines and saplings. He had quickly exhausted his taste for wild roots and edible plants and the occasional rabbit that wandered into his snare, yet he’d refused to give up.

He’d left his camp that spring knowing he’d become a different man on those long, lonely winter nights—a man he could look at in the mirror again. A man who could face anything life threw at him.

Over the following summer, he’d prepared to go back to his former life, but when autumn had rolled around, Sam had packed more tools and spent the winter working on a rough log cabin. It had been slow progress all alone, but by the time spring had come, he’d had a cozy shelter with a stone fireplace and a roof over his head.

He’d begun recording his experiences and thoughts in a small diary as a way to pass his evenings. And when he’d hiked out after his second winter, Sam had decided to submit a few of his stories to an adventure magazine. The editor had been impressed and scheduled the stories to run in a regular column starting that October. But by October, Sam was back in the wilderness again.

He filled his days with finding food and chopping firewood and making improvements to the cabin. The long winter nights were a time to contemplate the man he’d been and the man he’d become. But there was a limit to his need for solitude and he’d passed it about a month ago.

Sam grabbed the water bucket and walked out the front door of the cabin. He followed the well-worn path to a small stream that carried runoff from high in the mountains. It was nice not to have to melt snow to bathe and shave. He wondered what it would take to dig a well on his mountainside.

As he walked back up to the cabin, Sam was startled to see a lone figure waiting on the front steps. He hadn’t seen another person for months. But when the man turned, Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Carter Wilbury! What are you doing on my mountain?”

The elderly man waved and dropped his pack beside him. “Sam Morgan! If I remember correctly, I own this mountain and pretty much all the land around it.”

“I was just on my way down,” Sam said when he joined the older man. “How was your hike up?”

“Not bad. Took a while for me to work the winter out of my bones. Could have done the whole thing in a day, but I camped down below last night. Just couldn’t work up the energy to climb this last bit. I thought you might see my campfire and walk down to investigate.”

Though Sam considered himself a competent out-doorsman, Carter Wilbury was a real mountain man. Carter had once broken his leg in a twenty-foot tumble off a rock ledge, then crawled for six days to get help. He’d eaten bugs and grubs and worms and drunk the dew off leaves to stay alive. Since then, he’d been a legend around Sutter Gap. But age and a bad bout of frostbite had kept Carter indoors in the winter—that and a pretty widow who had captured his fancy.

Sam picked up the man’s pack and dragged it through the front door. “I’d offer you a cup of coffee, but I ran out a few weeks back.”

“I brought some along,” Carter said, bending down to rummage through his pack. “Just show me where the pot is.”

Sam grabbed the pot from the dry sink and filled it with water from the pitcher. “So what brings you up here so early in the season?”

“Came here to warn ya,” Carter said.

Sam froze. “About what?”

“There’s a woman nosing around Sutter Gap. She found out you like to frequent the Lucky Penny when you’re in town and she’s waiting for you to come back.”

“Who is she?” Sam asked.

Carter shrugged. “Says her name is Sarah Cantrell. She won’t say what she wants, but she’s a persistent little thing. She tried to pay me five hundred dollars to bring her up here, but I told her I didn’t know where you were.”

“What did she look like?”

“Pretty. Real pretty. City girl. Nice fingernails, fancy makeup and she wears the damnedest boots with these funny little heels. And she’s always messing with her cell phone. Most of the boys at the bar have been drooling over her but all she’s interested in is you.” Carter paused. “I saw that Fatal Attraction movie on HBO a few months back. You don’t think she’s…”

“A bunny boiler?”

“No, got a Sam Jr. she wants to show you. You are quite the ladies’ man when you’re off this mountain.”

“Did she have a baby with her?”

“No, but do the math. You came off the mountain in April of last year. It’s late March now. She could have photos of a two-month-old to show you.”

“Listen, I may enjoy the company of women, but I do it responsibly.”

Carter nodded. “Well, then, I guess we can rule out the social diseases as well. Maybe a relative died and she’s here to tell you you’ve inherited a fortune. Or maybe she’s one of those reporters looking to do a story on a modern-day Daniel Boone.”

Sam considered the possibilities for a moment, then shrugged. “I suppose I’ll know soon enough. Thanks for watching my back.”

“No problem,” Carter said.

Sam considered the ramifications of Carter’s news. “Can you do it again? Watch my back, I mean. When we get back to Sutter Gap, I want you to tell this woman you know someone who can take her to see Sam Morgan.”

“Who? Besides you and me, no one else knows how to get up here. And you know how the folks are in Sutter Gap. They don’t talk to strangers.”

“Just introduce her to me, your cousin. Call me…Charlie Wilbury, your friendly, neighborhood wilderness guide. And give everyone at the Lucky Penny the heads-up. I’ll just tell her I’m going to take her to Sam Morgan and in turn, she’ll tell me what she wants.”

“So you think she’s trouble?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “But it won’t take me more than a few minutes to find out.”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’ve spent ten whole days in this backwater town with nothing to show for it,” Sarah Cantrell muttered. She glanced over her shoulder at the patrons of the Lucky Penny tavern then turned back to the old pay phone, feeling their eyes boring into her back.

The town of Sutter Gap, population two hundred, sat nestled in the mountain country of North Carolina, just a few miles from the Tennessee border. The main street boasted just two businesses—a tiny grocery store which also served as the town gas station, the post office and the bait shop; and the Lucky Penny Tavern. The rest of the town was made up of a hodge-podge of houses, cobbled together without regard for architectural style. Sarah had taken a room at the Gap View Motor Lodge just out of town, a place that usually housed visiting hunters.

“I’m a nice southern girl, but this is not the south,” she continued. “If I’m not careful, one of these good old boys is going to toss me in the back of his pickup, take me to his cabin in the woods and chain me to the bed.”

“You’re a beautiful woman and men are bound to look,” Libby Marbury said, her voice crackling back over the phone line. “They’re probably just lonesome.”

Libby Parrish Marbury had been Sarah’s best friend since they were in seventh grade. Over the years, they’d given each other endless advice on men and romance. But there was no way even Libby could put a positive spin on the social prospects in Sutter Gap, North Carolina.

“They don’t just look,” Sarah complained. “They grunt and leer and a few of them drool. I know I’ve complained about the dating scene in Belfort, but I feel like I’ve landed on another planet here. A planet where ragged flannel and faded denim is the height of fashion and a good catch is a man who can bring down a ten-point buck with his bare hands. The odds are pretty good here, but the goods are definitely odd.”

“You’re not there to find a man,” Libby insisted. “At least, not in the romantic sense, so why let it bother you?”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Sarah said. “I’m just a little frustrated with the waiting.”

For such a long time, she and Libby had been in the same boat—single and searching for love. But since Libby’s wedding, Sarah had become acutely aware of the differences between them. Libby had always taken a very cautious approach to love, waiting patiently for her Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet, knowing that some day he’d come.

Sarah had always preferred a more adventurous attitude toward men, juggling several different boyfriends at once and then discarding them when they became too demanding or too troublesome. In truth, she didn’t want love at all, just fire and heat and passion. Libby had once quipped that Sarah took a “catch and release” approach to the men in her life. Men were like fish, once she’d caught them, it was only a matter of time before she tossed them back.

“I’ve turned down three invitations since I got to town,” Sarah continued. “One guy wanted me to go coon hunting, and one offered an evening of bowling in Asheville. The other cut right to the chase. He wanted to take me home to meet his mama.”

“Do you really expect Sam Morgan to be any different?” Libby asked.

“I sure hope he is. It would take me a whole lot more than I’ve got budgeted to turn any of these guys into a television personality.”

“How long are you going to wait for this guy?” Libby asked.

“I don’t know. This is the biggest get of my career. Sam Morgan has been living in the wilderness for three years, all alone. He survives on nuts and berries. He built a log cabin with his own two hands. He’s PBS gold. Imagine the potential. The program would be part reality television, part adventure and travel and part educational. Plus, we’ve got the whole pioneer history thing going. If he’s halfway presentable, the show could be a huge hit.”

“And if he isn’t?”

“At least his name sounds rugged. I’m hoping he looks like a cross between Robert Redford and the Marlboro man. We need to attract female viewers as well as male. If he’s missing all his teeth I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“What if Mr. Morgan doesn’t want you nosing around his life?”

“Well, he obviously wants some sort of recognition or he wouldn’t have written those articles for Outdoor Adventure. I just hope I can get to him before the network guys do. Those reality show producers are always on the prowl for the next big idea and they can offer him a lot more money than I can. But all they’re interested in is ratings and drama. I’d do this right.”

“You’re a very persuasive woman when you want to be,” Libby said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get this guy to agree to your idea.”

“I hope so.”

It had been sheer luck that she’d stumbled across Sam Morgan. Two months ago, she’d been in the dentist’s office and had picked up an issue of Outdoor Adventure. After reading Sam Morgan’s article, she’d cancelled her appointment, gone back to the station and had immediately begun preparing a pitch for a new PBS series called Wilderness.

It was the perfect next step in her career. She’d begun work at the PBS affiliate in Charleston eight years earlier, as a twenty-two-year-old production assistant. She’d worked her way up to producer at WCLC, but when she’d first proposed the idea for Libby’s cooking show, of Southern Comforts, it was with the idea of striking out on her own. She’d quit her job and formed her own production company and before long, she and Libby had put together the funding to produce Southern Comforts.

They’d never expected the show to be such a resounding hit. Southern Comforts was now the jewel in WCLC’s programming crown, seen in nearly one hundred PBS markets nationwide. And from the moment she’d finished production on the second season, the station had begun clamoring for another new show.

Wilderness would be that show. And once it was a success, the production company she’d founded three years ago would finally be on firm footing. She could pay back the business loan she’d taken and maybe even give herself a small salary raise as well.

“If I can just find him, I’m sure I can convince him,” Sarah said.

“So what else do you know about Sam Morgan?” Libby asked.

“Nothing. No one in town is talking. This old guy named Carter Wilbury is supposed to be his friend, but he won’t—” Sarah felt a tap on her shoulder. She held up her hand. “I’ll be through in a sec.”

“What?” Libby asked.

“Someone wants to use the phone,” Sarah replied, annoyed with the interruption. “So, tell me, how are you feeling? Has the morning sickness gotten any better?”

“I’m much better. Trey brings me crackers in bed and I’ve found that regular servings of Rocky Road ice cream seem to settle my stomach. And my clothes are starting to get really tight, though I’m not sure if that’s from the baby or all the ice cream.”

Sarah pulled her BlackBerry PDA out of her purse and scanned her calendar. “I’ll be back home next week at the latest. We can go shopping at that cute little maternity shop on—” Sarah felt another tap on her shoulder. She spun around, angry at the second rude interruption. “I said I’d be done in—”

The words froze in her throat as she came face-to-face with the most beautiful man in all of Sutter Gap—and probably in the entire state of North Carolina as well. Sarah coughed to hide her surprise. “I—I’m sorry. I’ll just get off now.” She reached back to hang up the phone, but missed the hook twice.

“I understand you’re looking for Sam Morgan,” he said.

Sarah stared into his eyes, deep blue and ringed with impossibly long, dark lashes. “I—um, I’ll be—”