Page 56 of Flirting with 40

“Really?” he asks.

“Definitely.”

Silence falls over the small cabin. “We’re halfway to crossing off the second one,” he murmurs.

“We are?”

“We know our history.” He shifts onto his elbow, a gleam in his eyes. “We just need to see how long those legs of yours are.”

“I figured you had plenty of time to study them last night.”

“I was a little busy enjoying other things.” His dimple deepens with his smile, and between that and the look in his eye, that delicious twist in my lower belly tightens.

He runs his hand down the length of my hip to my knee, his hand resting there like an electric shock to my system.

“And how exactly do you plan to measure their length.”

His lips twist as he fights a smile. “In hands.”

“Like a horse?” I laugh.

“I’m surprised a city girl like you knows that.” His hand runs back up to my hip, and when it moves down again, it takes the sheet with it. “There are other means of measurement, you know.”

“Like?” I ask, not trusting my own voice to speak.

“Like with my tongue.”

“Oh.” It’s little more than a squeak.

“You seem to make that sound a lot,” he teases as my pulse starts racing and the delicious soreness from last night begs to be tested again.

I’m not sure what it is that makes me turn to look at him at the exact angle that I do, but it gives me a clean line of sight to the nightstand.

And the digital clock that tells me I have ten minutes to get to my first meeting.

“I’m late!” I shriek as I bolt out of bed like a woman on a mission.

His chuckle rumbles through the room as he props his pillow against the headboard and leans back against it to watch me scramble.

I run to the bathroom, too preoccupied with being late to worry about being attacked by a bear. Five minutes later, I’m back in the room, hopping from foot to foot, trying to put my shoes on.

“What’s this morning’s meeting?” he asks.

“Who knows? How to berate your employees so they hate your guts?” I mutter.

“Sounds like a fun one.”

I glance over to him as I grab my notebook. His hand is behind his head, his hair is sticking up from the fingers he just ran through it, and one of his tanned legs is wrapped around the white sheet.

He’s breathtaking. Even in my flustered state, it’s hard not to notice.

“I’ll be back at God knows when to get ready for our first group activity,” I say with a fake pump of my fist in excitement.

“Can’t wait.” He smiles.

“What are you going to do while I’m gone?”

“Cause some trouble.” He shrugs. “Wreak some havoc.”