Instant Temptation by Jill Shalvis Page A

around her the forest pulsed with the oncoming storm. Kamikaze squirrels screeched at each other, racing frantically from branch to branch. She could hear the thumping cry of a group of tree frogs, looking forward to the impending rain.

    The fire road she was on continued through White Wolf Woods. She had a drop of about sixty feet off to her left. To her right was dense forest. As she climbed, the fire road narrowed into almost nothing. She took a moment to consult her maps and the GPS. It looked like she was on target to the two malfunctioning cameras.

    The survey she was working on for the conservation agency had several goals. The biggest was to nail down how many coyotes were indigenous in the Sierras, and whether the population was stable or growing. They wanted to figure out the best management strategies for the coyote population to coexist with the growing—and spreading—human population. There was plenty of room for both humans and coyotes out there, but for most places in the state, that wasn’t the case.

    Clouds rolled. Above her, the sharp report of thunder cracked in the distance. She jumped but kept going. It felt good to be out. Sitting at her laptop doing research didn’t exactly promote health. Sometimes she jogged in the evenings if she felt that her jeans were too snug, but overall she skipped any organized form of exercise. But she liked hiking.

    She’d been at it for several hours, and was as comfortable as she could be with the unaccustomed weight of the backpack. She wore a pair of hip-hugging cargo pants, a white stretchy tee, and hiking boots. So far so good, but then she heard an odd sound behind her. “TJ!” she gasped, whipping around, taking a quick step backwards—too quick, because she tripped over her own feet and fel to her ass.

    “Christ.” He dropped to his knees in front of her and reached out. “Are you okay?”

    Pissed, heart pounding, she smacked his hands away. “No, I’m not okay!” It was the damn backpack. Feeling like a beached whale, she had to roll to her hands and knees to get to her feet, but before she could, TJ got his hands beneath her and tugged her up.

    “You need a bell around your neck, you know that?” She brushed her hands over her butt and glared at him. “You scared the crap out of me.”

    “Bears don’t wear a bell.”

    She sighed and shook her head, knowing he was right. “I’d have seen a bear. You move more stealthily than that, like a cat, a big, sleek, stupid cat.”

    “You should look around once in a while. Be more aware of your surroundings.”

    She was incredibly aware of him—of his big, tough body, of his gaze on hers, of how her body was reacting. He wore a baseball cap, dark sunglasses, and a pair of old Levi’s, battered and beloved, the denim snug over hard thighs and probably his perfect ass, too. His light blue T-shirt stretched taut across his shoulders, biceps, and upper chest, looser over his zero-fat stomach. Bastard. “Yeah, well, chalk it up to a rookie mistake,” she said. “Why are you here?”

    “Saw you from Weststar.” He pointed to the peak above them.

    “You expect me to believe this is a chance meeting?”

    “It is. I was hiking back after taking video for a client when I saw you.”

    “How could you tell it was me?”

    “Binoculars.”

    “Wow. Good thing I wasn’t having wild sex against a tree or something.”

    He arched a brow. “By yourself?”

    She blew out a sigh. Sex with herself was all she had lately. As if she’d admit that.

    He grinned, making her realize her thoughts were all over her face.

    “Okay, look,” she said. “You’ve seen for yourself I’m fine. So thanks for the concern, but feel free to continue on your merry way.”

    “I thought maybe you’d want company.”

    “Yours?” she asked.

    “No, the Tooth Fairy’s. Yes, mine.”

    Above them, clouds bumped and exploded in a burst of lightning, and she tipped her head up to look at the churning sky.