“You, too,” she said faintly. “Welcome back.”
Colt turned and trotted off to Dane’s side up the hill. Dane leaned in close, saying something in a rapid-fire, angry tone. Miranda couldn’t make it out, though. Dane said something, and both men turned and looked back at her. Then they spoke again. To her surprise, Colt patted the front of Dane’s pants and said something. Dane swung a punch, but Colt ducked out of the way, smirking. Dane didn’t look amused—he looked pissed. When Dane gestured sharply in her direction, a bit of a smile curved Miranda’s mouth. Well, at least that was something. Anger was better than nothing. When she’d first extended her hand for Dane to shake, there had been a blank look on his face, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of seeing her here.
She had to admit, she didn’t know what to make of him either. A smirk she’d have expected. A lecherous grin she’d have expected. The baffled look he’d given her? Not so much.
Brenna paused in front of Miranda, peering down at her clipboard. “Do you have your registration packet with you?”
She handed the paperwork to Brenna and was given a red bandana in return.
“You’re going to be on the red team,” Brenna announced. “The red instructor will be your leader for the next week. Wear your bandana at all times, as we’re going to have a few team-versus-team challenges later in the week.”
“Got it,” Miranda said in a meek voice. “And my instructor is Dane?”
The assistant glanced up and gave her a searching look, a hint of a frown on her face.
“I’m a hockey fan,” Miranda hastily explained, lying through her teeth. “Plus, he and I go way back. High school and all that.”
She didn’t point out that she’d gone to high school with Colt Waggoner, too.
“You’re not here for hockey or class reunions. You’re here for survival training,” Brenna said. “If that’s going to be a problem, I can switch instructors—”
“No!” Miranda squeaked, hiding the red bandana behind her back. “Not a problem at all. I just happened to notice it.”
“Well, unnotice it if you can. Mr. Croft doesn’t care to discuss hockey,” Brenna said, and peeked around, then leaned in to whisper. “You cause any trouble, and I’ll move you to the other team.” She gave Miranda a wide smile. “Okeydoke?”
Jeez. Miranda nodded. “No hockey. Got it.”
“I’m glad we had this little talk.” Brenna beamed at her and then moved down the line to the first person on the blue team. “Got your paperwork?”
“She’s a bit much, don’t you think?” The man next to Miranda chuckled. “Glad she’s not going to be our instructor, or this would really be a long week.”
Miranda gave a sheepish smile to the man. He was a tall, bordering-on-skinny guy who wore black-framed square glasses that hid his pale face. He seemed nice enough—strong jaw, thick sandy blond hair, and a friendly smile. Kind of cute, if you were into nerds.
Shame she’d always had a thing for jocks.
“I’m Pete. And you are…” He switched his bandana to his left hand and extended his right for a handshake.
“Miranda,” she said, shaking his hand and trying to do her best not to peer around him. He was blocking her view of Dane.
“So what do you do, Miranda?” Pete asked with an easy smile. “Public relations? Pharmaceutical sales?”
She gave him an odd look. “I’m a librarian.”
He laughed at that, as if anything she said was hysterically funny. “Really? Pretty young woman like you moldering in a library? I wouldn’t have figured it.”
Okay, that was definitely flirting. Miranda stared at Pete for a moment, unsure how to answer. Flirt back? Ignore the flirting? She settled for polite small talk. “I take it back—I used to be a librarian. I’m taking a new job down in Houston in a few weeks as Chief Information Officer at a start-up electronics company. What is it you do, Pete?”
“I own Hazardous Waste Games in Austin,” he said, his smile widening with pride.
“Oh, wow,” she said, her attention drawn back to him. “You own a company?”
“A billion-dollar company,” he agreed proudly. “We make the biggest first-person shooter MMO in PC gaming.”
Like she knew what that was. Miranda gave him a hesitant smile. “Wow. Biggest first, uh, shooter. That’s great.”
He nodded, glancing around the clearing in front of the lodge. “Our next project involves survival skills. I thought I’d check out the scene and see what it’s like. Get a little first-person experience of my own.”
“Good idea,” she enthused, but her interest was rapidly waning despite his friendliness. Dane was marching back toward the group, a resigned look on his face and a red bandana wrapped around his hand. Her breath expelled from her chest in a whoosh of relief—she hadn’t realized how tense she’d been.
If she’d been moved to the blue team…she’d have been screwed. And not in a pleasant way.
Now that Dane was approaching, she could look her fill at him again. Her memories of him from high school had been vague and steamy—she’d recalled a tall, lanky boy with dark, messy hair, shoulders that seemed too wide for his lean body, and an easy smile. The man who paused in front of the team seemed to be the same, but different. The Dane she’d had her hands on nine years ago had been lean—this man was nothing but solid muscle. His biceps bulged from underneath the sleeves of his black T-shirt and were tanned a delicious shade of bronze. Back in high school, Dane had almost been too pretty—with a beautiful mouth, perfect nose, lean face, and piercing green eyes.
The Dane before her still had the beautiful mouth and piercing green eyes, but his face had filled out, and his nose had been broken several times and had a large ridge in the middle proclaiming that he’d been in fights while on the ice. He had a scar just above it, and another one on his chin. She’d have thought the scars would make him less attractive, but for some reason they broke up the delicacy of his face and made him dangerous. There was even a third whisper-thin white scar running through his left eyebrow that gave him a rakish look. The rumpled black hair she remembered had been cut short and clung to his head in a thick cap that made her fingers itch to stroke it. And as he stood in front of them, she admired his shoulders. Still broad and blatant with muscles, but the rest of his body seemed to have caught up, and the entire picture was mouthwatering indeed.
She felt a bit dismayed at the sight of him. Why couldn’t he have been more torn-up looking? Why couldn’t his face be covered with hockey injuries, his nose broken beyond all hope, and his cheekbones crushed like a boxer’s? Why did he have to have those scars that made him look so damn…delicious?
All the better to seduce him, Evil Miranda whispered in her ear.
Hm. Evil Miranda definitely had a point. This was all about seduction, and it’d be a lot easier to seduce a man when he was easy on the eyes. Heck, if he was easy on the eyes, it’d make it a pleasure for her to seduce him, rather than a chore. She could be down with that.
Dane turned to say something to Brenna, and Miranda’s gaze slid to his tight ass, outlined in his camo shorts. Definitely easy on the eyes, all right. She felt a little hot and breathless just looking at the way his h*ps narrowed.
He turned and his gaze flicked to Miranda, catching her staring at his ass. A blush crossed her face and then she winked at him. To her vast delight, that seemed to fluster him even more, as if he hadn’t expected that kind of reaction from her. Evil Miranda was delighted with that response.
Right then, she decided to let Evil Miranda take the reins this week.
“Welcome, everyone, to your week of survival training,” Dane said in a low voice that made her thighs quiver. Heat flared, settling low in her hips. “For the next week, you’re going to learn how to live out in the wild on your own. It’s not going to be easy. You’ll be sleeping on the ground, catching your own food, and learning the best ways to move about in the bush. We’re going to have a team challenge against the blue team, and at the end of the week, you’re going to have to survive on your own for a day using the training I give you. Understand?”
Survive on her own for a day? Did that mean she wouldn’t be spending the full week with Dane? She hid her frown. Okay, then, six days to seduce the man and get nak*d photos of him. She could handle six days.
Evil Miranda would just have to work a little faster.
“The land we’re going to be surviving on is the private property of the Daughtry Ranch. You’re surrounded by ten thousand acres of nothing but trees and wildlife. We own this ranch, so anything you can bring down to serve as food, do so. No sport killing—this is to teach you how to survive, understand?”
He cast a stern glare over the group, arms crossed over his chest.
No one moved.
“Now,” he declared, “we’re all going to empty our packs and I’m going to make sure you’re not smuggling in anything to make this easier on you. Our instructions said to bring a utility knife”—he ticked the words off on his fingers—“a change of clothes, extra socks, and three Ziploc bags. Nothing else.”
Miranda stiffened, her hands tightening on the straps of her backpack. She was going to have to show the contents of her bag? Oh crap. This could be awkward. Or embarrassing. Or both.
As she hesitated, Dane smiled at the first person in their small line, took his backpack, and upended it on the ground. She groaned inwardly as the man’s gear came spilling out and Dane began to pick through it. “Not allowed,” he said, pushing aside the first item. “Not allowed, not allowed.”
Oh yes. This was definitely going to be bad. She watched as the man—Will, she thought his name was—stiffened and looked as if he were about to mutiny before the class even started.
Assistant Brenna was right at Dane’s side, taking the beef jerky, cell phone, and travel thermal blanket pouch that were handed to her. “You’ll get this stuff back when the class is done,” she said in a take-no-arguments kind of voice. “Not a moment sooner.”
“I need that phone. My company is securing a deal this week—”
“I’m sorry, did you want to remove yourself from the class?” Brenna said with a cheerful, innocent smile, waving the phone in front of his face. “Because if so, I’d be happy to refund you the tuition—minus your deposit, of course.”
“No, ma’am,” Will said in a resigned voice. He gave the phone a last longing look and then sighed, stepping back into line.
Dane smiled and clapped the man on the back, leaning in and murmuring a few words of encouragement that Miranda couldn’t make out. Whatever it was, it had the desired effect—Will perked up again and gave Dane a rueful smile.
He’d always been good at charming people. The prick. Even so, she squirmed a little, imagining him leaning in and telling her that she’d been a naughty girl. Even just standing in line, she was getting turned on by Dane’s presence.