How To Sleep With The Boss. Janice Maynard
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it,” she blurted out.
“Were you expecting a five-star hotel?”
His sarcasm on top of everything else made her angry, but she didn’t want him to get the best of her. So she kept her mouth shut. If he wanted her to talk, he was going to have to initiate the conversation.
Somehow, it seemed almost obscene to be at odds with another human in the midst of such surroundings. Though it would be several more weeks until the new green of spring began to make its way through the sun-kissed glades, even now the forest was beautiful.
She dropped her pack and managed not to whimper. Though it galled her to admit it, maybe Patrick was right. Maybe this job was not for her. It was one thing to come out here alone with him. But in the midst of an “official” expedition, Libby would be expected to pull her weight. Her new boss wouldn’t be free to coach her if she got in over her head.
He knelt and began pulling things from his pack. “The first thing Charlise usually does is put up our tents. I’ll be teaching the group how to do theirs.”
“Okay.” How hard could it be? The one-man tents were small.
“First you’ll want the ground cover. It’s the thing that’s silver on one side and red on the other. Silver side up to preserve body heat.”
Libby was a fast learner. And she was determined to acquit herself well. “Got it.”
Patrick pointed. “Leader tents go over there.” He stood, hands on hips, while she struggled to spread the ground tarps and smooth them out.
Next came the actual tents. Claustrophobically small and vulnerably thin, they were actually not that difficult to set up. Lightweight poles snapped together in pieces and threaded through a nylon sleeve from one corner of the tent to the opposite side. Repeat once, and it was done. The only thing left was to secure the four corners to the ground with plastic stakes.
All in all, not a bad effort for her first time. Even Patrick seemed reluctantly impressed. He handed her a rolled-up bundle that was about eighteen inches wide. “Look for a valve on one corner. It’s not difficult to blow up. And it won’t look like much when you’re done. But having this pad underneath your upper body and hips makes for a much more comfortable night.”
He was right. Even when she inflated the thin mattress, it didn’t seem like much of a cushion. But she wasn’t about to say so.
To give Patrick his due, he didn’t go out of his way to make her feel nervous or clumsy. Still, having someone watch while she learned new skills was stressful.
At last, both tents were up, pads and sleeping bags inside. The full realization that she and Patrick were going to spend the night together hit her hard. No television. No computers. Nothing at all for a distraction. He was gorgeous and unavailable. She was lonely and susceptible.
Nevertheless, the job was what she needed. Not the man. She couldn’t let him see that she was seriously attracted to him. Cool and casual was the plan.
She stood and arched her back. “What next?”
Patrick hadn’t expected much from a young, pampered, New York socialite. But perhaps he was going to have to eat his words. During the morning, he had set an intentionally punishing pace as they made their way through the woods. Libby stayed on his heels and never once complained.
Was it the past year that had made her resilient, or was she naturally spunky and stubborn? That would remain to be seen.
He glanced at his watch. Even with this current spring-like spell, it was still February, which meant far less daylight than in two months when he traditionally scheduled his first team-building treks. Kneeling, he pulled a small camp stove from his pack. “I’ll show you how to use this,” he said. “The chef at the retreat center has a couple of part-time assistants who prepare our camping meals the day before.”
“I assumed the execs would have to cook for themselves. Isn’t that part of the outdoor experience?”
“In theory, yes. But so far, we’ve only done short trips...two days, one night. So our time frame is limited. Since we want them to do a lot of other activities, we preprepare the food and all they have to do is warm it up. We don’t spend too much time on meals.”
Once Libby had mastered the stove, she glanced up at him. “Surely you don’t expect the entire group to use something this small.”
“No. I have a group of local guys who come along to carry the food, extra stoves and extra water.”
He stared at her, disconcerted by feelings that caught him unawares. He was enjoying himself. Libby was a very soothing person to be around. When she stood up, he walked away, ostensibly picking up some fallen limbs that had littered the campsite.
Grappling with an unexpected attraction, he cursed inwardly. With Charlise, he never felt like he was interacting with a woman. He treated her the same way he did his brothers. Charlise was almost part of his family. While he was delighted that she and her husband were so happy about the upcoming birth, he would be lying if he didn’t admit he was feeling a little bit sorry for himself. Silver Reflections had been going so well. He had honed these outdoor events down to the finest detail. Then Charlise had to go and get pregnant. And his mother had saddled him with Libby. A remarkably appealing woman who’d already managed to get under his skin.
What was he going to do about it? Nothing. It would be a really bad idea to get involved personally with his mother’s beloved Libby. Not only that, but with Charlise out of commission, he had no choice but to work twice as hard. And ignore his libido.
Surely he could be excused for being a little grumpy.
Libby called out to him. “What now?”
He turned around and caught her rolling her shoulders. She’d be sore tomorrow. Backpacking used a set of muscles most people didn’t employ on a daily basis.
“I’ll show you how we string our packs up in the trees,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
He sighed, the look of befuddlement on her face the sign of an outdoor newbie. “Once we set up camp, we won’t be hauling our backpacks everywhere. We’ll use this as home base and range around the area.”
“Why can’t we leave the packs in our tents?”
“Bears,” he said simply.
Up until that point, Libby had done an admirable job keeping her cool, but now she paled. “What do you mean, bears?”
“Black bears have an incredible sense of smell. And they’re omnivorous. Anytime we’re away from camp—and at night when we’re sleeping—we’ll hang our packs from a high tree limb to discourage unwanted visitors. Don’t keep any food in your tent at all, not even a pack of crackers or scented lip balm or toothpaste.”
“I washed my hair with apple shampoo this morning.” Her expression was priceless.
“Not to worry. I should have told you. But the scent won’t be strong enough by the end of the day to make a difference.”
“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled as she glanced over her shoulder, perhaps expecting a bear to lumber into sight any moment.
Patrick unearthed a packet of nylon rope. “There will be plenty of tall men around to do this part, but it never hurts to gain a new life skill. Watch me, and then you can try.”
“If you say so.”
He found a rock that was maybe four inches around and tied it to the end of the rope. “Stand back,” he said. Fortunately for his male pride, his first shot sailed over the branch. He reached for the rock again and removed it. “Now all you have to do is attach one end to your pack, send it up, and tie it off.” When Libby seemed skeptical,