Miranda worried at the tense set of his shoulders and the frown on his face. Shit. This wasn’t working the way she planned. Her temper had gotten away from her when that creep had touched her boobs.
This wouldn’t work. She needed to clear her head and concentrate. She wouldn’t be able to seduce Dane if she got sent home for fighting with her partner. When Dane returned, she tilted her head and offered him a half smile, her hand fluttering back to her collar protectively. “Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction.”
“You sure you’re okay?” He said, not moving from in front of her. He scratched his head, rubbing at the closely cropped hair in a gesture she remembered from high school. “Do you want to go back? I can take you to the lodge if it’s going to bother you being out here with six men. I don’t want any problems this week.”
“I’ll be fine. He just took me by surprise and I reacted.”
Dane looked skeptical.
“Look,” she said and took a step forward. The smile curved her mouth, and she forced her voice to be teasing again. “If anyone gives me any trouble, I’ll let them apologize before I hit them. I’ve only got one good hand left.” She tried to put her hand on his chest, bridge the space between them.
He stopped her, catching her hand in his, and examined her knuckles. His fingertips brushed over them and he pulled her hand close to his face. “Did you hurt yourself?”
She watched him curiously, her gaze focused on her hand in his. She could feel the rough callus of his hands against hers, and she had to admit that it sent a tingle through her. “I’m all right. I took a self-defense class in college. I know how to punch a creep without hurting myself.”
Dane glanced up at her and gave her a wry smile, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “Can you refrain unless it’s absolutely necessary? That creep paid the same two grand you did for the survival trip. And if he needs to be hit again, I might have to be the one to do it.”
She laughed, and then was horrified at the giggle that escaped her throat. Evil Miranda never giggled. She should have given a sultry chuckle instead. But it made Dane smile, and so she moved forward to lay her hand on his chest again, giving him a very interested look. “Want to kiss my boo-boos and make them better?”
He released her hand as if he’d been burned, turning to the campsite. “We need to start building the fire. Bring over some of that wood, will you?”
Miranda resisted the urge to put her hands on her hips, frustrated at his skittishness. “Fine,” she said, careful to hide the annoyance she felt. She had Dane alone for a few precious minutes, and she needed to capitalize on it. She glanced over at him as he crouched near the spot he’d selected for the fire, tossing a few rocks out of the area. Her gaze slid to his ass, tight in his shorts.
And she got an idea. Moving to the firewood, Miranda bent at the knees and crouched in a way that would make her shorts ride low and expose her black lace thong and the pale expanse of skin it drew across. She glanced over her shoulder, but Dane was facing the other direction. Dammit. She turned and looked at the biggest log—no more than the size of her arm around. She could pick that up no problem, but doing so wouldn’t serve her purposes. So she feigned a deep sigh. “I think this one is too heavy. What do you think?”
She glanced over her shoulder again to see if he was looking at her.
This time, he was. He turned and she saw his expression change from exasperation at her weakness to…something else. His gaze slid down to her skimpy black thong, evident over the low waist of her shorts, and she resisted the urge to stand up and cover her backside and then clutch at her neckline.
Evil Miranda would not approve of covering up.
He seemed to swallow hard. “Are you wearing a thong?”
“What, this old thing?” she drawled, and gave her h*ps a little wiggle that caused her to wobble slightly on her feet. “Of course.” As if she never left her house in anything but Victoria’s Secret’s tawdriest.
He moved closer to her, his gaze still on the expanse of flesh she was exposing. “You do realize that’s not exactly camping appropriate?”
She shrugged and tossed her long hair over her shoulder, watching as his gaze flicked to it, then back down to her thong. “It’s a little tight against my skin,” she admitted in a coy, secretive voice. “I don’t suppose you could…help me with it?”
Even that was a little forward. Very Evil Miranda. Good Miranda would have been totally mortified.
But Dane moved down next to her, his voice low and husky in her ear as he spoke. “Sure thing.”
She arched her back and closed her eyes, anticipating his touch.
His hand grasped the back of her panties roughly, and her eyes flew open at the uncomfortable wedgie. Before she could protest, he pulled the thong away from her skin. She heard the click of his knife, and then the chopping hiss as he sliced through the fabric.
Dane let go of her and she fell forward, the fabric loose between her legs. Her hand flew to her bottom and sure enough, he’d cut the thong square up the backside. The crotch of it dangled against her leg. She gasped. “What did you just do?”
“We’re on a survival trip, Miranda.” The look in his cool green eyes was no-nonsense. “First rule of survival is to be as comfortable as you can, and you should remember that.” He stood and turned away, then extended a hand toward her. “Or wasn’t that what you had in mind when you asked me to help you with them?”
His eyes were knowing as they looked at her, glimmering with amusement. Dane knew her game and he wasn’t going to make it easy for her.
She glared at him.
He gestured at the wood behind her. “Hand me one of the lighter logs, would you?”
“I can’t believe you just cut my panties!”
“Probably a good thing you packed a whole bag of them, then, eh?”
Forget revenge and ruining his life. She was going to kill him before the week was out. Forcing a tight smile to her face, she slapped a piece of wood into his hand. “Good thing,” she echoed sourly. “I’d hate to have to go without.”
His laugh strangled off and he gave her an intense look, and then stomped away.
Evil Miranda two; Dane Croft zero.
Miranda was going to be the death of him this week.
Dane couldn’t get the sight of her thong out of his mind. He tried not to think about her panties when the others returned with enough wood for the evening. He tried not to think about it when he cut a few longer branches and began to show Steve (who had been designated as the shelter expert) how to build a shelter. He tried not to think about the pretty thong or the sweet curves of skin it laced over as he showed Will how to strain water using a waterproof hat. He tried not to think about it when he showed Miranda how to build a fire using the bow method and her long, glossy hair swung over her shoulder as her arms worked. And he really, really tried not to think about the fact that he hadn’t had sex in more than three years.
But he thought about it anyhow.
It was like the image was burned into his memory and no matter what he tried to focus on, the vision of it kept rising in his head. Of the soft globes of her ass, pale against the thong, making him think of how she’d look riding his cock, that delicious ass bouncing as he pumped into her. He’d been hot for the teenage Miranda, but the Miranda nine years later was burning a hole in his mind and making his dick primed for sex 24/7.
Correction, he thought, his mind going back to that damned thong. Nothing but sex with her. No one else. You’ve been waiting nine years for this. And she wants it—wants you.
They banked the fire and prepared for sleep. It was early in the evening but the team was drooping and the sun was down. They looked exhausted and tired, and even water and their PowerBars couldn’t perk them up.
“We’ll call it an early night,” he announced, throwing a heavy log over the fire’s coals, steering his gaze away from Miranda, where she looked slightly sweaty and disheveled and completely and utterly delicious. “Be ready to get going first thing in the morning, as we’re going to change campsites and the real survival will begin.”
One of the men groaned, but the others got up and stretched, heading to the larger of the two shelters. It was a lean-to with a thick amount of deadfall tossed on the wind-facing side and crosshatched with leaves and branches. The ground had been smoothed and the packs lay underneath.
“How’s this going to work?” Steve had said earlier. “We have one shelter, six guys, and a woman.”
They had ended up building Miranda a separate small lean-to a few feet away so she didn’t have to huddle with the men. She went and sat under it, adjusting her pack before lying down on the hard ground and using it as a pillow. As Dane watched, she crossed her arms over her chest and seemed to huddle in, bracing against the cold. She looked small and alone as the other men piled into the larger shelter, and Dane couldn’t help himself—he went over to check on her.
“You going to be okay over here?”
“No problem.” She gave him a tired thumbs-up, then hugged her arms close again.
He hesitated. “If you get too cold, just crawl in with us. We’ll be fine thanks to body heat.”
“I’d rather not, but thanks for the offer,” she said, closing her eyes to end the conversation. “I’m good here.”
Dane nodded and went back to join the others. He glanced over at Miranda one last time, but she had her back to him.
Dane’s offer was the perfect opportunity, Miranda thought as she shivered in her shelter. Sleep wasn’t happening—not with the chill bite on the ground and the fact that she really didn’t have anything much warmer to wear. This camping trip was an exercise in survival, but the next time she opted to “survive” she’d pack some thermal underwear first. As it was, her light jacket wasn’t helping much.
The men didn’t seem to have the same problem—she could hear them snoring quietly. Occasionally one would move around, shifting to try and get comfortable. The fire popped, but other than that, the camp was silent.
It gave her a lot of time to think. And the main thing she thought about? Her battle plan to seduce Dane. The fact that he’d sliced her thong off had thrown her for a loop. He’d seemed interested—really interested—but he’d given her the worst kind of brush-off with that insulting move.
Did he not find her attractive? Was that it? In high school, he’d been a flirt and had teased all the girls—including her. When he played hockey for the Vegas Flush, she’d heard all kinds of rumors about whom he was dating—London Harris, the sexy socialite who loved to be in the tabloids. Molly Sun, the starlet with the yellow curls and huge br**sts. Susie Lynn Jacobs, the ingénue country singer. The list read like an issue of People’s Most Beautiful. And he was totally ignoring her.
Miranda’s hand went to her collar and she grasped it, making sure that it didn’t gape open. Men flirted with her occasionally—at the library, at the county fair, when she’d gone for her job interview. Even Pete had shown interest. Why was Dane not interested? She was practically throwing herself at him.