Hidden Summit (Virgin River Book 17)

Leslie walked right over to where Conner sat. “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“What do you think?” he returned. “Hoping to run into you. How was your week?”

“Fine,” she said. “Do you expect me to believe you’re just being friendly?”

“I haven’t been anything else. I haven’t seen you all week and I thought maybe you could use a piece of pie. Or something.”

“I thought I told you—”

“Yes, you told me. You can’t eat pie and you can’t get involved and you can’t be uninvolved. That’s going to be tricky. Sit down anyway—I got you some tea and a slice of pie. It’s apple.”

“I’ve been trying to watch my weight….”

“I heard all about that. Just a taste,” he said. “I’ll eat whatever you leave. You don’t have to watch your weight, Les. You’re perfect. You’d still be perfect twenty pounds heavier, so don’t punish yourself.” He shook out a paper napkin, slid forward on his chair, put a small bite on the end of a fork and held it toward her. “Come on. I’ve given you a week to stew and now it’s time to sort it out. With pie.”

She wondered if this was a good idea, but with a fork of apple pie hovering at her lips, she let him feed her. It wasn’t the pie that tempted her.

“It’s been an interesting week,” he said. “I worked in town some with Dan and Paul and some others, getting that school building up. Everyone who worked on that project did it without pay. It’s been a long time since I did anything like that—volunteer work. Community service. Felt good. And I drove by your house a couple of times to see how the flowers were holding up—I’d say we did a damn fine job on the yard.” He took a sip of his coffee. “If you’re not planning to plant the back forty tomorrow, I think we should grab a movie and dinner. I helped out on that school today and they’re going to be there again tomorrow but I could use a day off.”

The student seated behind Conner snapped closed his laptop and tucked it under his arm to leave.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to tempt fate….”

“Fate? No. Just you.”

“Oh, that was blunt,” she said.

“I know, I’m bad that way. Sometimes I’m too honest. It can make people uncomfortable. I didn’t really mean what you think, Les. I understand some of your worries. They’re an awful lot like mine. I haven’t asked a woman out on a date of any kind for a long, long time. I haven’t even asked for a phone number or bought one a drink. I just didn’t want to—as you put it—tempt fate. I know you don’t want to be in a position where you end up getting disappointed. Me, either. I had the same thing happen—she cheated. We divorced. I’m still pissed off about it.”

Leslie was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry we have that in common.”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t happen to anyone. And we have more than that in common, I’m afraid. You have parents in Oregon and you made it clear, you’re going back there eventually. Well, lots sooner than eventually, I’ll have to find work near my sister and nephews, my only family. I’m going to have to go home or move them. I told you, didn’t I? She’s alone—her husband was in the army and was killed several years ago in Afghanistan. I want to be closer than this. I want to be part of their lives, especially since the idea of a family of my own isn’t on my chart anymore. So, just like you, I’m not interested in getting in over my head. As far as I’m concerned, another marriage is out of the question for me. And up until just lately, I wasn’t even ready for friendship with a woman. But then I met you. I think we can be friends. I think we already are.”

She frowned. “Why me?”

He laughed in spite of himself. “Seriously?”

“Why don’t you hang out with Dan? Or some of the guys on Paul’s crews?”

He grinned at her. “Well, let’s see… Their necks are so scratchy,” he said, rubbing his hand over his goatee. “You’re pretty and you make me laugh. I like the way you boss people around. That whole toilet seat mission—that kind of thing used to just annoy the hell out of me…. My sister does that. She’s little, you know? But she has no trouble getting the men in her life to put the seat down.”

She stiffened. “It’s common courtesy when you share space with a woman!”

“That’s what she says. So how about the four-o’clock show in Fortuna, dinner in Arcata after? I say four o’clock because it’s such a damn long drive. Going anyplace around here is a damn long drive.”

“I haven’t been on a date since… I don’t remember.”

“Think of it as a couple of friends catching a movie and a meal,” he said. And then he flashed her the dimple, and she knew what kind of friends he’d like them to be. It made her gulp and shiver in need. “I could lower my standards and make it a chick flick,” he said.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No chick flick.”

His blue eyes grew smoky and dark. “Leslie, you could do a lot better than me, there’s no question about that. I think it’s pure coincidence we have the same post-divorce trust issues. So no expectations, just whatever good times fall our way.”

“Listen,” she said, “I think I know where you’re headed with this idea—this friendship idea….”

“I don’t think you really do, Les. Because anything beyond a movie, dinner and some laughs is entirely up to you. Your call. I swear to God.”

Conner was serious about a day off. He needed to relax and enjoy himself, though he had to admit that hanging around with some of the guys from town filled a certain need. He liked the masculine camaraderie; he liked working on a project with people as opposed to alone.

But while Luke Riordan went into town on Sunday morning to help on the school, Conner helped himself to a rod and reel from the storage shed. When he made it to the river, he found Luke’s helper, Art, already casting. They exchanged their greetings, and Art told him which rocks were the slippery ones.

Conner had been here four weeks and something had happened to the place since April had arrived—it had exploded with new growth and color. The sun was out almost every day, the river, as Jack had promised, was swollen, and the trout were jumping. Wildlife, from deer to wolves to bear, had begun to appear here and there with new young—in meadows, at river’s edge, even in backyards. After a long, dark, snowy winter it was officially spring and the town’s spirits rose with the temperature. It had been a good-natured place since the day he arrived, but now there was an uplifting mood and lots more laughter—spring fever. He’d heard all about their winter of record snowfalls and how the men of the town, including his boss, had had to get together to deliver supplies to those in need, clear the roads, rescue people who’d been snowed in.

That whole business of one for all and all for one that they had going on—that held an appeal for Conner. As a big-city guy, he hadn’t had that in a long while, not since his army days, if you got right down to it.

He caught a fish, a nice, fat trout. He briefly wondered if he’d made enough progress with Leslie to convince her to cook it and decided he’d better move slowly. “Art, you think your boss would like this fish?” he asked.

“Boss?” Art asked.

“Luke?”

Art laughed. “Luke’s my partner. Luke and Shewby are my family. They found me. And kept me.”

Yeah, the danger was not falling in love with a woman, Conner thought. He risked falling in love with the whole damn town.

By the time Conner arrived for Leslie on Sunday afternoon, she had already spent an entire day being tense and unsure of herself—big surprise. She had come to a few conclusions. Such as, life wasn’t going to get a whole lot easier and more enjoyable if she avoided gorgeous men like Conner. And she hadn’t been tempted by a man in a very long time. Very. Long. Time.

She had decided she wasn’t going to try too hard. She wore her hair in the usual way—loose curls. Her makeup was the same as she’d put on for work every day. She did choose an extra nice pair of jeans, boots, crisp white blouse and blazer, however. Nothing special. They were just friends catching a movie.

When she opened the door for him, she found him just plain dreamy-eyed. “God, you look fantastic,” he said almost weakly.

And she burst out laughing.

“This is funny, how?” he asked.

“I don’t look any different. Well, the jacket, that’s a little different. You, on the other hand, are wearing pants. Not jeans but pants. Whew. Should I change?”

“Are you a little fidgety?” he asked, smiling at her.

“I haven’t been on a—” She cleared her throat. “I haven’t been a couple of friends catching dinner and a movie in a really long time.”

He stepped into her house, slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her very close and asked, “Did I give you too much to think about, Les?”

She looked up into those vivid blue eyes. She nodded, and she could tell he smiled because the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened a little bit.

“Then maybe we should just get it over with,” he said and came down on her mouth. He moved expertly; his bristles coaxed open her lips. His tongue tangoed with hers briefly; she made a little noise as her hands slid up his arms toward his shoulders. His kiss grew a little more penetrating; he pulled her a bit closer. Without leaving her lips, he whispered, “You taste good. Good.”

“You’re my first mustache,” she whispered back.

He lifted his brooding, thick brows. “Like it?”

She nodded, and he went in for the kill a second time, overpowering her lips, going deep, bending her back over his arm. He gently licked her upper lip, her lower lip, then devoured her once again. That was three, she thought. Three deep, wonderful, wet, hot, amazing kisses.

She was screwed. She wanted him. All of him.

“We should probably think about that movie,” he whispered.

“What movie?” she asked.

And he laughed, releasing her slowly so she wouldn’t collapse. She righted herself, grabbed her purse, left a kitchen light on for later and joined him at the front door.

“It’s harder now, being older and knowing the pitfalls and consequences, isn’t it?” he asked her. He held the front door for her. “I remember being sixteen, going out with a girl in a car for the first time and being pretty strung out, but more excited than scared.” He chuckled. “I should’ve been scared—she ate me alive. She wasn’t happy about too much—she didn’t like the movie, the food wasn’t right, she didn’t want to make out….”

She laughed at him. “Poor Conner.”

He opened the passenger door to the truck and helped her up and in. “I learned to pick ’em better after that.”

“Went straight for the ones who wanted to make out, huh?”

“Well, of course,” he said, slamming the door. He came around and joined her in the cab. “I didn’t pick you solely based on the making out aspect, though I do see the potential, it being your first mustache and all.”

“I never dated much. I had a couple of boyfriends before I met Greg, but nothing too serious. But I bet you always had girls.”

“Not always, just sometimes. I kept pretty long hours at work, it seemed. One short marriage.” He looked over at her. “I am going to tell you more about that, you know. But not tonight. I don’t want to spoil tonight. I want to have fun.”

“I understand completely. It’s been a year and a half for me, too. Not so much as a cup of coffee.” She let go a little laugh. “What a couple of go-getters we are.”

“But this isn’t really our first date,” he said. “More like our third with lots of contact in the middle. We had a couple of coffee dates, I’ve insulted you at least once, we had a flower planting date with a take-out dinner chaser, and this is a dinner and movie date. And we saw each other almost every day for three weeks until you moved the trailer. If we were in high school, that would equal carrying your books to class all week, then meeting you at the burger barn on the weekend with the gang….”

“Then making out,” she added.

He grinned at her. “Absolutely.”

Leslie found the nervousness of her first post-divorce date had gone within ten minutes of getting in the truck with him. Being with him was so easy. He had this gruff exterior and a deep sexy voice, but he had a very soft center. His honesty charmed her to the marrow of her bones. Everything about Conner seemed spontaneous and real as opposed to premeditated. He was what he was, take it or leave it.

The movie was a sci-fi thriller, very tense. When she gripped his arm, he put it around her shoulders and pulled her protectively close. When they went to a nice restaurant in Arcata, she spent the whole meal praising the food and telling him all the things she liked to cook; he told her everything he liked to eat. On the long drive home she talked about how much she’d like to travel more than she had, which was very little, while he talked about how little wanderlust he had. Home was all that mattered to him. If he could stay in the same place forever and always know where a couple of beers and his TV broadcasting pro football games would be, he’d be content.

“I love football,” she said. “But I’d still like to travel.”

“I’ve never really had the time or money for travel, but if I did, I can think of a few things I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

“Like?” she pushed.

He shrugged. “The Super Bowl?”

She laughed. “I don’t know if we have a lot in common or nothing in common.”

“It’s really too soon to tell.” He parked the truck in front of her little house. He turned in his seat and faced her. “Let me come in, Les,” he said.

“Oh, right. The making out part,” she teased.

“Or coffee,” he said. “But I’m not done yet. Are you?”

“I am not,” she said, surprisingly happy about it.

He came around the truck to help her out. He lifted her to the ground. His arm around her waist both supported and hurried her, and when they were inside the house with the door closed, he swept her up to him, his lips on her lips, kissing her deeply once again as though he’d waited all night to do it. She dropped her purse on the floor and gave herself over to this kiss, wondering how she’d made it this long without it.

And that fast she decided—she was going to enjoy her life rather than subject herself to some kind of torture of denial to avoid ever being hurt again. If he wanted to devour her with these fabulous kisses, and more, she’d just have to endure it.

He backed off the littlest bit and said, “You have a very good mouth for this. Perfect, I think.”

“Are you just getting it out of the way again?” she asked.

“Nope. Just getting started. Do you have to listen to messages or let the cat out or anything?”

She shook her head. “Are we going to stand inside the door and make out?”

“I could. Where do you want to make out?”

She thought about saying the bed. Or the shower. Or maybe up against a wall? “Sofa?” she asked.

“You don’t sound too sure,” he said, slipping the blazer from her shoulders. He shed his lightweight jacket and tossed them both on the living room chair. Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. “Do you need anything? A drink? A little more conversation? How’s the mustache? Too bristly?”

She just shook her head, bringing a chuckle out of him. Once she was seated on the sofa he knelt on one knee and helped her out of her boots. Then he sat down and took off his. And then he had her in his arms again pulling her across his lap, going after her mouth with all his heat and power.

“I don’t want to jinx this,” he whispered, “but you’re a natural.”

“Are you saying I’ve missed my calling?”

He reclined with her on the sofa. “I’m saying, you’re very tasty and desirable and I could do this clear into next week.”

Then, with a hand on her butt pulling her against him, he pressed into her. She chuckled against his lips. “No, you can’t,” she said. He was hard. Ready. “All you want is sex.”

He grew still and serious. He gave her lips a little peck. Then he kissed her nose. “No, Les. That’s not all. But it’s not a bad place to start.”

Leslie could remember making out, but she certainly couldn’t remember anything like this. And she’d never been romanced this way—with a truckload of flowers and comments like, that’s not all, but it’s not a bad place to start. Although Conner was a large man, they somehow managed to lie on the couch together, bodies pressed close, mouths pressed closer. And hands, gliding up and down bodies. Leslie kissed his mouth, his chin, his brooding eyebrows, his cheeks, the place where his dimple would be when he smiled. She licked his upper lip, touching the mustache with her tongue, and made him moan.

“You like that, I think,” he said.

“I like it,” she confirmed. She tugged his shirt out of his pants so she could run her hands up his hard belly and over his sculptured chest. “You’re hard everywhere.”

He unbuttoned her crisp white shirt to find a very sexy, transparent lace bra. “And you’re soft everywhere. Did you wear this for me?” He bent his head and kissed the lace.

“I might’ve, yes. I wasn’t sure what would happen, but I did think about having the right underwear for it.”

His big hand slid down to the crotch of her jeans. “I can’t wait to see the matching panties.”

“One thing at a time.”

“You’re right.” He popped the front latch of her bra and enjoyed himself for a little while with her breasts, first fondling and then kissing and finally sucking. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “How’s that bristle on your breasts?”

“It’s very good,” she said breathlessly, without opening her eyes.

“Les, are we gonna get naked?”

“You mean more naked?”

“It’s up to you,” he said. “And if the answer is yes, let’s trade this couch in for a bed. If the answer is no, let’s put on the coffee.”

“I’m very nervous. I wonder if I’ve thought it through….”

He chuckled and ran a rough finger down her chest all the way to her navel. “You have no reason to be nervous. And I have a couple of brand-new condoms in my pocket. One week old.”

“You planned this?”

“No, sweetheart. I wanted this. Hoped for this. Wanted to be prepared for this.”

She bit her bottom lip for a second. “Will we still be friends after?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Oh, Leslie, better friends, I hope. Are you worried I’m just here for the sex? Because I’m here for the sex with you, but only because it’s you. I haven’t felt this in a long time. I was a little afraid I’d never feel it again. But…” He started to pull her shirt closed over her breasts. “I want you to be ready. This has to be about both of us, not just one of us. We can put on the coffee….”

She grabbed his wrists. “I’m nervous, but I’m ready.”

“Are you nervous because it’s me?”

“Because it’s been so long and because I really like you. And because I’ve never done anything like this before, this ‘friends with benefits’ kind of thing.”

“It’s more than that,” he said. “I think it’s friends with chemistry. You really turn me on.” He nuzzled her neck with a low purr that almost turned into a growl. “I’m going to take very good care of you, Leslie.”

“What if I don’t take real good care of you?” she asked him.

He looked surprised. “Not possible.” He put his lips against hers, and then in a remarkable move, never breaking the kiss, he shifted her weight until she was sitting on his lap again. With one arm behind her and the other under her knees, he lifted her. “Which way?”

“Left,” she said.

When he reached her bedroom, he stood at the side of the bed, holding her, looking down. The comforter was folded back, the pillows fluffed. “Perfect,” he said. And he slowly lowered her.

Leslie lay on her bed in her jeans, socks and opened blouse and watched as Conner went through the ritual of emptying his pockets onto the bedside table. He took out condoms and wallet; his watch joined them. Then he pulled off his shirt and opened his belt. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, his process of getting ready for her. But it was hard to concentrate. He had an enormous bulge in his dress pants. And when he lowered the pants, leaving only black boxer briefs, it was all she could do not to gasp.

He knelt on the bed and gently touched her, his fingertips gliding over her lips, then her neck and breasts, her belly. Then he opened her jeans and gave them a little tug. She lifted up so he could draw them off, and he groaned at the sight of her transparent lace panties. He tossed the jeans and ran a finger around the elastic. “God,” he muttered.

She reached for the waistband of his briefs. “Come on,” she said. “I’m cold.”

“You won’t be cold for long,” he said. And he quickly got rid of his boxers, removing the mystery. She bit on her lower lip to keep from saying, Wow. It was a little intimidating. Very large. Very hard.

He sat down on the bed and pulled her into a sitting position. He pushed the opened blouse and unsnapped bra over her shoulders. “Let’s get rid of this,” he said, his voice gravelly.

“And these?” she asked, her hands going to her panties.

“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet.” He ran his finger under the elastic again. “Let me play with these awhile. God, Leslie. What an incredible beauty you are.”

“Because I say no to pie,” she weakly informed him.

“No, you can still take on plenty of pie and be beautiful. But, my God, I’m losing my mind.” He ran his fingers under the elastic at her legs, first one, then the other. “Hmm, you’re killing me.”

“We can take them off,” she offered.

“Not yet,” he said. “Let me have my fun.” And then his hands were spreading her, and his fingers were moving into that very personal territory beneath the panties. Of course she was completely ready. Swollen and hot and wet. He leaned down to her lips just as he let one finger slide into her, and his kiss carried a deep throaty moan with it. “Man, I’m having a very hard time waiting for you.”

“You don’t have to wait,” she offered. And without meaning to, without planning to, her pelvis rose into his hand. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to wait long.”

“Good,” he said, nibbling at her lips. “Good.” He sat up again and slowly, tenderly, drew down those lace panties. She was waxed except for a small patch on her pubis. He met her eyes, smiled, lifted one brow. “Maybe I should see your barber.”

She reached out and touched his mustache. “Don’t you dare.”

He tossed the panties and reclined, pulling her into his arms, holding her close. His hand was on her again, now rubbing that sensitive little bump that brought all the joy of the universe to her. “Stop,” she whispered. “I can’t wait if you do that.”

“Ready?”

“I’ve been ready since you brought me lantana in three colors.”

His laugh was a deep rumble. “I knew when it got down to it, you were easy.” He rubbed more ferociously. He put a finger inside and rubbed with his thumb.

She reached for him, filled her hand with him and said, “So, you wanna play dirty?” She stroked him. Not gently. She brought deep noises from him, and he pinched his eyes closed.

He kissed her again, deeply, wetly. “Dirty is the only way I want to play.” But he pulled his hands and lips away and went after that condom, suiting up. Then he covered her body with his, holding his massive weight off her. With a gentle knee, he parted her legs. “I just can’t right now. I’m on a pretty short leash.” And again he touched her with his fingers, getting her hotter than hot.

With slow and smooth searching, he found her and let himself inside just a small amount, checking her reaction. She nodded at him, and he pushed in a little more. Again she nodded and again he gave her more. Then he took her mouth, his tongue playing with hers, and he slid all the way in. She gasped.

“Okay?” he asked her.

“God,” she whispered. “Okay,” she said weakly.

“Tell me if it’s not comfortable. Don’t put up with anything that feels wrong.”

“God,” she said again. “It feels right….”

And she saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes along with his smile. Then he began to move in and out, slowly. Too slowly. He kissed his way down her neck, across her collarbone, over her breast and pulled a nipple into his mouth. In and out.

She rose against him. “More.”

“Try this,” came his throaty whisper. “Just try it this way. Let me get you there nice and easy. Let it build. Then when it’s time—”

“Oh, God, it’s time….” she nearly cried, pushing against him.

“You’re killing me,” he told her. “Almost time…”

“Harder,” she asked in a whimper. She couldn’t believe it was her! She’d never cried out for what she wanted before! “Faster!”

And he laughed deep in his throat. “Almost time,” he said, slowly and deeply invading, one long stroke at a time, torturing her.

She moaned and rose against him. Her knees bent, her heels dug into the bed, she whimpered and moaned again and again. A cry came from her, and he must have known that her orgasm was on him; his fingers found her most erogenous spot, his lips bruised hers in a hard, possessive kiss, and he pounded himself into her. Deeper and faster. And she broke apart, exploding all over him. He growled low and with appreciation. And then he said it. “God…Leslie…” It went on forever, the pleasure, the whimpering and growling, and she wasn’t quite done when he suddenly let go of her mouth, moved his lips to her nipple, and he grabbed her hips to plunge himself deep inside of her, holding her still but for his powerful throbbing. He groaned in ecstasy. She wasn’t sure where her orgasm ended and his began, and it was beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. Then he grabbed her chin in one big calloused hand, tilted her mouth toward his and took her mouth with almost the same force.

She thought it was a wonder she didn’t faint.