He nodded agreeably. Fine by him if she didn’t want to break down and admit to being lost. He enjoyed her fierceness, and the inner strength that came with it. But he still couldn’t just walk away.

Or take his eyes off her. Her hair was a deep, rich, shiny brown, sometimes up, sometimes falling softly about her face, as it was today. She wore aviator sunglasses and lip gloss, and that tough-girl expression. She was a walking contradiction.

And a walking wet dream. “You know this trail closes at dusk, right?”

She tipped her head up and eyed the sky. Nearly dusk. Then she met his gaze. “Sure,” she said with a tight smile.

Hmm. Not for the first time, he wondered how it’d be to see her smile with both her eyes and her mouth at the same time.

She retied her boots, those silly boots that didn’t have a lick of common sense to them. He was picturing her in those boots and nothing else when she climbed off the rock and pulled on her cute little leather backpack, which was as impractical as her boots. “What are you doing all the way up here?”

“Just hiking,” she said carefully. She was always careful with her words, careful to keep her thoughts hidden, and she was especially careful to keep herself distanced from him.

But Matt had his own bullshit meter, and it was deadly accurate. She was lying, which stirred his natural curiosity and suspicion—good for the cop in him, dangerous for the man who was no longer interested in romantic relationships. “Hiking out here is big,” he said. “But it can be dangerous.”

She shrugged at this, as if the dangers of the forest were no match for her. It was either cocky, or simply the fact that she’d spent a hell of a lot of time in far more dangerous situations. He suspected the latter, which he didn’t like to think about.

She moved back to the trail, clearly anxious to be rid of him. Not a surprise.

But along with Matt’s BS meter came a honed ability to read people, and he was reading her loud and clear. She was exhausted, on edge, and his least favorite: scared, though she was doing her best to hide that part. Still, her nerves were shining through, and he knew it was because of him.

He wasn’t sure what to do about that. Or her. He wasn’t at all used to explaining himself, but he needed to explain a few things to her. Such as exactly how lost she was. “Amy—”

“Look, I appreciate you coming out. I did lose track of time, but I’ll be going now, so…”

Knowing the value of a good, meaningful silence, Matt waited for her to finish her sentence.

She didn’t.

Instead, she was clearly waiting for him to leave, and he suddenly got it—she wanted to follow him out. Pride sucked, as he knew all too well. “Okay, then,” he said. “I’ll see you at the diner real soon.”

“Right.” She nodded agreeably, the woman who was the singularly most disagreeable woman he’d ever met.

Having much more time than she, he leaned back against a tree, enjoying the flash of annoyance that crossed her face. “Right,” he mirrored. It’d been a hell of a long day, and it was shaping up to be a longer night. He didn’t have enough Dr. Pepper left to get him through it, but he was perfectly willing to try.

Amy sighed with barely concealed annoyance and stalked off down the path.

In the wrong direction.

Funny, Amy thought, how righteous indignation could renew one’s energy level, not to mention make them stupid. And oh, how she hated being stupid. Even worse was being stupid in mixed company. She’d done it before, of course. Too many times to count. She’d thought she’d gotten past it but apparently not.

“Need help?”

With a grimace, she slowly turned to face Matt. Yeah, she needed help, and they both knew it.

He was still leaning against the tree, arms crossed over his chest, the gun on his hip catching the sun. He looked big and tough as hell, his shoulders broad enough to carry all her problems. His hair brushed his collar, a little shaggy, a lot tousled. Sexy. Damn him. He stood there as if he had all the time in the world and not a concern in his head.

And of course he didn’t. He wasn’t lost.

But there was something else, too. There was a sort of… crackling in the air between them, and it wasn’t a bird or insect or frigging elk call either.

It was sexual tension. It’d been a long time, a real long time, since she’d allowed herself to acknowledge such a thing, and it surprised the hell out of her. She knew men, all of them. She’d been there, done that, bought and returned the T-shirt. She knew that beneath a guy’s chosen veneer, whatever that may be—nice guy, funny guy, sexy guy, whatever—lay their true colors, just lying in wait.

But she’d been watching Matt for months now, and he was always… Matt. Amused, tense, tired, it didn’t seem to matter, he remained his cool, calm, even-keeled self. Nothing got to him. She had to admit, that confused her. He confused her. “I’m actually okay,” she said.

He expressed polite doubt with the arch of a single brow. Her pride was a huge regulation-sized football in her throat, and admitting defeat sucked. But there was ego, and there was being an idiot. “Fine,” she said. “Just tell me which way is south.”

He pointed south.

Nodding, she headed that way, only to be caught up short when he snagged her by the backpack and pulled her back against him.

She startled, jerking in his hands before forcing herself to relax. It was Matt, she reminded herself, and the thought was followed by a hot flash that she’d like to blame on the weather, but she knew better.

He turned her ninety degrees. “To get back to the ranger station and your car, you want to go southwest,” he said.

Right. She knew that, and she stalked off in the correct direction.

“Watch out for bears,” Matt called after her.

“Yeah, okay,” she muttered, “and I’ll also keep an eye out for the Tooth Fairy.”

“Three o’clock.”

Amy craned her neck and froze. Oh sweet baby Jesus, there really was a bear at three o’clock. Enjoying the last of the sun, he was big, brown, and shaggy, and big. He lay flat on his back, his huge paws in the air as he stretched, confident that he sat at the top of the food chain. “Holy shit,” she whispered, every Discovery Channel bear mauling she’d ever seen flashing in her mind. She backed up a step, and then another, until she bumped into a brick wall and nearly screamed.

“Just a brown bear,” said the brick wall that was Matt.

“Would you stop sneaking up on me?” she hissed over her shoulder. “I hate to be sneaked up on!”

Matt was kind enough not to point out that she’d bumped into him. Or that she was quaking in her boots. Instead, he set his drink down and very softly “shh’d” her, gently rubbing his big hands up and down her arms. “You’re okay,” he said.

She was okay? How was that possible? The bear was the size of a VW, and he was wriggling on the ground, letting out audible groans of ecstasy as he scratched his back on the fallen pine needles, latent power in his every move. Sort of like the man behind her. “Does he even see us?” she whispered.

As she spoke, the bear slowly tipped his big, furry head back, lazily studying Amy and Matt from his upside down perch.

Yeah, he saw them. Reacting instinctively, she turned and burrowed right into Matt. “If you laugh at me,” she warned as his warm, strong arms closed around her, “I’ll kill you.”

He didn’t laugh or mock her. For once, he was unsmiling, his jaw dark with stubble, eyes hidden behind his reflective Oakleys. “No worries, Tough Girl,” he said, his warm, strong arms closing around her. “And anyway, I’m hard to kill.”

Chapter 3

There’s more to life than chocolate, but not right now.

As Matt drew Amy in close, he thought that laughing at her was just about the last thing on the list of what he felt like doing at the moment. Kissing her was on the list. Sliding his hands down her back to cup her sweet ass and rub up against her was also on the list.

But laughing? No. She’d nearly leapt out of her own skin a second ago, and it hadn’t been all fear of the bear. Nope, a good portion of that had been when Matt had touched her unexpectedly. That bothered him, a whole hell of a lot. “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve usually got myself,” she murmured into his chest. “I’m just not much of a bear person.” Her voice was soft and full of the reluctant gratitude he knew she’d never actually express. He liked this better than the wariness she usually showed him, but not even close to what he’d rather she be feeling.

He ran his hand up and down her back, trying to soothe the quivers he felt wracking her, trying not to notice how good she felt against him. Or how… fragile.

He’d never thought of her as fragile before, ever. He’d spent a lot of time watching her carry loaded trays at the diner and knew she was actually strong as hell. “You’re not going to be bear bait,” he promised, turning her so that she was behind him. “Not today anyway.”

She grabbed a fistful of the back of his uniform shirt and pressed up against his back. “How do you know?”

“Well, you’re behind me, for one thing. So if anyone’s going to be bear bait, it’ll be me. And brown bears are extremely passive. If we take a step toward him, he’ll take off.”

She let go of him, presumably so he could do just that, even giving him a little nudge that was actually more like a push. With a laugh, Matt obliged and stepped toward the bear, waving his arms. With a look of reproof, the bear lumbered to his feet and vanished into the bush.

Amy collected herself with admirable speed, which was just the slightest bit of a bummer because he’d been enjoying the contact. “A lot can happen this far out here on the mountain,” he said. “You need to be ready for anything.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that, thanks.” In those ridiculous but sexy-as-hell boots, she moved unenthusiastically to the trail.