Wilderness Passion. Lindsay McKenna
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it on his long, well-muscled thigh. There was something primitive and stirring about touching her. He slid his hand down over her shapely calf. “Maybe there’s hope for you after all, Doctor,” he said blandly. “You know, you aren’t in as bad shape as I thought,” he said, more to himself than for her benefit, running his hand more firmly across her calf.
Libby blushed and compressed her lips. His touch acted like a hot brand on her nylon-clad skin. She could feel the rough texture of his fingers as they slid over her ankle. She wanted to pull away. She wanted him to continue. A tumult of emotion momentarily silenced her, and all she could do was stare at him.
Dan forced himself back to the business at hand. Taking the tape, he measured her slender ankle, the ball of her foot and the instep. Carefully marking down the information, he released her right foot. “What do you do, work out at a health spa?” he asked, reaching for her left foot and placing it on his thigh.
Libby swallowed, her heart pounding at the base of her throat. His touch was electric, triggering a myriad shocking and pleasant sensations within her body. “I—uh, yes, I work out three days a week.”
He regarded her for a moment “A city snob working up a bit of a sweat? Doesn’t that go against your image, Doctor?”
There was a pleasant tension building between them, and Libby could sense the fragile bond of trust. Since he approved so highly of honesty, she felt it best to remain on that tack. “You must hate city women.”
Dan drew her foot on the paper. “Now, whatever gave you that idea?” he drawled.
“Your whole attitude, Mr. Wagner. Taking sniping shots at me because I do try to stay fit even though I sit at a desk all day long isn’t necessary.”
“It was a backhanded compliment. Most of the women I know are country-born and—bred. They’re used to working. They have calluses on their hands.”
Libby had the sudden urge to hide her hands so that he couldn’t see her palms. She didn’t have one single callus. “And city women are weak, lazy and snobbish in your book?”
He raised his head, his blue eyes darkening. “That was my general assessment until just now. You obviously aren’t a weak woman, Doctor.”
“Weak? In what sense of the word?” Why was she interested in what he thought of her?
“There aren’t many women who care to stand up to me. Or men, for that matter.”
She smiled wryly. “I can see why. The kitchen gets pretty hot where you’re concerned.”
Dan shrugged. “You even have some old-fashioned logic. I’m impressed, Doctor.”
He finished measuring her left foot, his hand remaining around her ankle.
Libby pressed forward with her desire to know something of how Dan Wagner operated. She was acutely aware that her foot was resting on his thigh, his hand nonchalantly curled around her ankle. “So, you see me as a feminist?” she probed.
Reluctantly, Dan released her foot “I have no qualms with a woman doing any job—provided she can do it”
“Then strong women don’t get under your skin?”
A sliver of a smile touched his eyes as he watched her struggle out of the socks. “Contrary to popular opinion, Doctor, I like a woman who can stand on her own two feet.”
Libby handed him the socks, her fingers brushing his momentarily. She felt the room getting warm. Or was it her? There was a dangerous tension lingering between them, and she was feeling flustered, unable to think as quickly as she might ordinarily. “You said you feel that city women are weak, lazy and snobbish. I just wanted to know how many of those adjectives apply to me, Mr. Wagner.” She picked up her shoes, slipping them back on her nylon-clad feet.
“Well, if you’re lazy, it will show up soon enough. Being out on the trail isn’t for anyone who doesn’t have stamina.” He gave her a dark look. “And if you do manage to come through this experience in one piece, you’ll earn my respect.”
She rested both hands on her thighs, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “Obviously you don’t see me finishing.”
Wagner rose, standing over her. “Let’s just say I’ll suspend my judgment of you, Dr. Stapleton. You’ve already shown you have a backbone.”
He walked over to the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
Libby picked up her purse. “You don’t have to.” She gave him a slight smile. “We strong women can take care of ourselves.”
Before she knew what had happened, she felt Dan Wagner’s fingers on her shoulder. In one deft, seemingly lazy move he had imprisoned her within his strong, work-hardened hands. She was wildly aware of his fingers caressing the fabric at her shoulders. Her heart soared, her breathing suddenly uneven at his masculine closeness. Her eyes lifted upward to meet his dark, appraising stare.
“You know,” he began softly, “you aren’t strong in some ways, Doctor. I’ll know by the time our hike is over just who and what you are and are not.’’ The disturbing quality of his voice sent a dangerous thrill through her. She felt trapped, excited and frightened, all at the same time. Her body wouldn’t react to her commands. She should move away...away from his dizzyingly male essence, which acted like an aphrodisiac to her awakening senses.
“Now,” he continued amiably, “I’m going to walk you to your car. No protests, Doctor.” He released her shoulder, his other hand on her elbow as he led her out the door.
Libby was at a loss for words. There was a commanding presence about Dan Wagner that simply defied description. She stole a look up at him once as they were walking down the street. In some ways he reminded her of a knight from the days of chivalry. In other ways he was a cougar on the prowl, and she felt as if she were his intended prey....
On Tuesday morning Libby found a priority-mail package on her desk when she came to the office. Puzzled, she slipped the white smock on over her Qiana dress of pale pink. Betty bobbed inside the door. “Dr. Stapleton! That box just arrived. I wonder what’s in it.” She smiled brightly and stood at Libby’s desk, waiting.
Libby returned the smile. There was no return address, simply her name scrawled almost illegibly across the brown paper in which the box was tightly wrapped. “I don’t know.” And then she laughed. “The postmark is from Challis, Idaho...”
“Oh, from that gorgeous Dan Wagner, maybe? Oh, hurry, open it! I can’t believe it—he sent you a gift. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Knowing that Betty was about to be sadly disillusioned, Libby tore the paper wrapping off the huge box. A neatly folded note rested on top of the tissue paper. Peeking under the paper, Libby saw a pair of highly unflattering hiking boots in the box.
Betty’s animated expression faded. “Boots?” she asked. “Is this his way of paying homage to you?” She giggled.
Returning the smile, Libby opened the note. “I doubt it. We got along like dogs and cats on Friday night,” she confided to her secretary. “And he made it very clear that he wasn’t going to coddle me during the time we’ll have to spend together. These boots are his way of making sure I don’t hold him back when we’re hiking.” A smile tugged at her lips as she met her secretary’s bewildered gaze. “Where I’m going in three weeks, I’ll be needing these.”
Betty sniffed at the gift. “What a shame. He was so dashing and masculine. I guess his sort doesn’t think to send a woman flowers....”
Finally alone, Libby sat down, unfolding the note. Her fingers tingled as she opened the crisp white paper. Suddenly, she was anxious to read his letter.
Dear Dr. Stapleton
These boots won’t do your beauty justice, but they are practical.