Slow Fever by Cait London Page B

invading her retreat, as he unrolled his sleeping bag. She resented her mouth watering and her hurry to tear open the box he’d just tossed her, stuffed with raspberry filled pastries. Michael Cusack was an absolute, certified beast, testing her resolve. “This won’t get you anywhere,” she managed to mumble around a mouthful of delicious pastry. “I’m on a diet. That’s why I’m working out.”
    “I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, stretching his arms high and scanning the stars. “I used to come up here. Your mom packed me lunches and your dad gave me my first fishing pole.”
    “Well, you probably haven’t had time lately. Or energy. After all, you’ve been too busy with all your womenfriends.” Kylie didn’t try to conceal her sarcasm. She swallowed the pastry hard, her heart thumping as she noted how Michael’s jeans had slipped a bit on his hips. She looked away into the brush, at a night animal foraging in it. “Leave me alone, Michael.”
    “Can’t. I promised your brother that I’d see you were safe. He’s married now, and can’t go chasing up mountains at night after you.”
    “So what are you? My guardian? I’m safe. I’ve been here hundreds of times before, and alone. I prefer ‘alone.”’
    Michael ignored her broad hint and lifted her exercise bra strap on one finger, studying it. “No cups and no hooks. Gray and no lace. What’s the world coming to? I remember when Tanner and I wrapped these around the backs of chairs and tried to unhook them without looking.”
    “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice since then.” Kylie grabbed the garment and stuffed it into her sleeping bag.
    Michael studied her closely. “My, my, my. You still blush.”
    “You just came up here to torment me. Go away.” Kylie licked the raspberry center from a pastry and Michael inhaled sharply.
    The firelight emphasized his tanned face, the unusual dark red glow in his cheeks. “I came because I wanted to give the bears and the cougars a chance to survive… I was worried, okay? I don’t like it, but I was.”
    He rummaged through her utensils, found a skillet and stoked up the fire. From his backpack, he took a wrapped package containing chicken breasts, flopping them onto the olive oil already in the skillet. While they sizzled and the water he placed on the fire was heating, Michael looked directly at her over the campfire. His expression was grim.“I had a sister. I know what it’s like to worry about her. Don’t eat too many of those. You need real food.”
    “I had a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich…. I didn’t know you had a sister.”
    Michael neatly chopped zucchini squash and added it to the sizzling chicken. “She was a lot older. My mother took Lily with her. I was left with my father. I was only three.”
    “I can’t imagine a mother leaving a child—I know it happens and for good reasons, but I could never— Where is your sister now?”
    “Dead. So is my mother. I learned later that she’d had to leave or die, and she’d tried to get me back.” Michael’s flat tone left no room for more questions, his expression dark and brooding as if an unpleasant memory had just slipped by. He finished preparing the meal, adding cooked linguine to the skillet. They ate quietly, Kylie aware that Michael’s thoughts were on his sister.
    “You’re like your mother,” he said when Kylie had helped him wash and dry the utensils. “You understand.”
    “Some things I do.” Kylie grabbed a donut and munched it to keep her mouth busy. Otherwise, she’d attack him for kissing her last night. She didn’t want him to think that kiss mattered to her. Michael lay down on his bedroll, and the long length of his body, the memory of it hard against her as they danced, set off her instincts to feast upon him. She swallowed the donut and heard her voice erupt into the night. “I didn’t understand that kiss last night, Michael. There was no cause for it. You were either