The Bachelor Boss (O'Rourke Family 3) Read online

  The trail into the trees behind Huckleberry House was wide enough to walk side by side, and the whisper of their shoes on the forest floor melded with the twitter of birds and the scolding chirp of squirrels, upset by the intrusion of humans into their domain. He noticed that Libby climbed easily, though a drop of perspiration gleamed in the hollow of her throat. It rolled downward, disappearing beneath her blouse, and Neil let out a pent-up breath.

  Did she still wear a cotton bra, or had she switched to sexier lingerie along with her more stylish clothing? Libby’s transformation from sweet preacher’s daughter to assured businesswoman had been so gradual he’d hardly noticed it happening, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that her new look drew a man’s attention.

  Especially his attention.

  The gurgle of water ahead of him was a welcome distraction and his stride quickened until he realized that Libby couldn’t keep up. He slowed and tried to quell his unruly thoughts.

  To his surprise, a few minutes later she veered from the main path. Neil followed, twisting and turning along a trail that only Libby seemed able to see, his curiosity piqued. After a few hundred feet they pushed through a thicket of bushes until they reached the center of a small clearing, defined by a moss-covered fallen log.

  Libby plucked several dark, bluish berries from one of the bushes and held out her hand. “They’re small and late this year, but the flavor is good.”

  Eating wild fruit was new to Neil, and he looked at the bb-size berries on Libby’s palm with a faint frown. He didn’t think she disliked him enough to poison him, but there was always a chance she could make a mistake.

  “What are they?”

  “Huckleberries,” she said.

  “Ah, as in Huckleberry House.”

  “Yes. They grow all over the mountain, and used to cover the slope the house is built on. People say they’re the best berry you can get. I make jam every year and I won first place at the town fair three years running for my huckleberry pie. That’s when you have to retire as a competitor.”

  Her hand shook, though she kept it extended. “This is my own berry patch. I don’t think anyone else knows it’s here.”

  “Aren’t you worried I’ll tell?”

  Her shoulders lifted in an unconcerned shrug. “Who would you tell?”

  “And how would I find it again?” Neil drawled. So this was one of her secret places; he felt like an intruder, even if she had invited him. “That can’t be the water I heard earlier.” He motioned to a tiny trickle of water, falling into a pool that was a bare foot and a half across.

  “It’s a seep. Even in the driest years this one doesn’t dry up. The water is pure—I can wash the berries if you’d prefer,” she offered.

  Neil smiled. “They’re fine just the way they are,” he murmured. He caught her outstretched wrist, and before she could object, lowered his lips to the huckleberries.

  He felt Libby’s pulse quicken beneath his fingertips as he nibbled her offering into his mouth, berry by berry. He bit down on the small bits of fruit and flavor burst across his tongue. It was both sweet and tart and every bit as delicious as she’d promised.

  “Wonderful,” he said hoarsely.

  What was it about Libby? He’d barely touched her and the top of his head was ready to come off…and that was nothing compared to the demanding pressure from another part of his anatomy.

  Hell, he didn’t even know what he was doing alone on a mountain with her. Turning, Neil plucked a few of the berries. He could well imagine Libby patiently picking them, though it would take forever to get enough to make jam or a pie.

  How many people would do something like that? No matter how great the reward?

  Not many.

  And he was certain that Libby freely gave the efforts of her labor away, to her family or friends. Her sweet nature had never been more evident than when she’d tried to preserve her mother’s dignity by pretending that Faye—who was obviously somewhat frail—had really cooked their lunch.

  “For you,” he said, holding up a plump berry.

  Her eyes widened further and her mouth opened in surprise. Neil slid the berry inside, his thumb brushing the velvet curves of her lips.

  “Chew,” he whispered.

  Libby bit down automatically, barely tasting the fruit. What was Neil up to? She thought she recognized the heat in his eyes, but surely she was mistaken. They’d lost their heads that morning, a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.

  Well…twice-in-a-lifetime, if you counted their silly, best-forgotten date.

  “Have another,” Neil breathed.

  She shivered and took a half step backward just as he released the berry. It disappeared into the deep V of her collar and her breath caught. Neil’s gaze became heavy-lidded as he focused on the exact spot the berry had settled as if he could see through the fabric.

  “You…I think you should, um…” her voice trailed off.

  “Get it out of there. You’re right,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding. “It could leave a stain.”

  “Yes,” Libby whispered.

  She could stop him, but she didn’t want to. Her nipples had tightened into tingly, aching knots—a sweet explosion of awareness. The last few days she’d felt more alive than she could ever remember feeling.

  The rational part of her brain argued she was just excited about her promotion, only she wasn’t so certain. She’d been promoted before, but she’d never matched wits with Neil. Going head-to-head with him was the last thing she’d expected to ever do, but it was curiously satisfying.

  He lifted his finger and traced the path of the lost huckleberry, but when he dipped into her cleavage he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to collect it, instead following the taut line of her bra.

  “Silk. Nice,” he whispered, his voice heavy with male satisfaction. “Very nice.”

  What? Libby felt vaguely insulted. “You’re copping a feel of my bra? Don’t tell me you have an underwear fetish, O’Rourke. I’d really be disappointed.”

  “It wouldn’t be proper to cop a feel of anything else,” he drawled with a self-directed, rueful humor. “Unless really provoked, of course.”

  Neil’s finger slowly slid around the curve of her breast and located the lost berry. He scooped it out, regarded the tiny object for a long moment, then popped it into his mouth. “Delicious,” he said, his voice sounding huskier than before. “I have a new favorite flavor.”

  Libby’s knees wobbled.

  She’d never seen the teasing, sensual side of Neil, with every bit of his electric personality focused entirely on her. When they were younger he’d been brash, bold, cocky, wanting everything at light speed, but if this was how he’d learned to seduce women, no wonder they fell at his feet like swathes of wheat cut down by a sickle.

  “What a curious expression you have,” he said, brushing his thumb so lightly across her cheek it sent tingles through her nerves. “Am I the big bad wolf?”

  “It wouldn’t matter, I’m not Red Riding Hood,” she quipped back, though her voice cracked, betraying her tension.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But…uh…getting back to our fascinating discussion this morning about kissing…”

  “Were we getting back to that?”

  Neil smiled. Libby had more spunk than he would have ever guessed. Adversity either destroyed people, or put steel into their backbones, and she’d come through her share of fire as pure, high-grade titanium.

  “Yes. We never actually finished the experiment to see if a kiss would clear the air. In the interest of science we should test your theory.”

  Her eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly. “That isn’t why I brought you up here.”

  “Yeah, but you know men, we don’t need a reason, we just need a place. And this one seems better than most.”

  “I said a kiss might clear the air, not sex,” Libby snapped. This time her flush came from temper, and Neil knew she was more likely to hit him at the moment, than kiss him.

  “You�
�re right, sex would complicate things too much. We’d better forget that part. I am, however, more than willing to kiss you.”

  “Neil O’Rourke, you are the most impossible man I’ve ever met. You can take anything I say and twist it to suit whatever you think is funny.”

  Hell.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. Libby’s mouth was too tempting, and he had been copping a feel earlier, just like an underage boy with his britches on fire.

  Clenching his hands at his sides, he leaned forward and kissed her.

  Chapter Six

  Libby didn’t have time to think about responding before Neil stepped back again.

  “What?”

  “Just giving you time to hit me,” he muttered.

  “Hit you?”

  “Yeah, for not asking first.”

  Was she mad about that? Libby tried to decide, then gave a mental shrug. He hadn’t asked, but she also hadn’t been saying no. Neil would never lose control and force her into something she didn’t want. He’d stopped all those years ago, the moment she’d stiffened and pushed away from him.

  Of course, he might not have been all that aroused that night, either.

  The thought was too depressing for words.

  She was an average woman, neither especially beautiful or particularly plain; wholesome was the best description for her. She ought to have married a guy from Endicott who’d appreciate wholesomeness, but it hadn’t happened and now all her male friends were married to other women.

  “I’m not going to hit you.” She sighed and leaned against a moss covered tree trunk.

  The little clearing wouldn’t remain private once their B and B clients started arriving in Endicott. It wasn’t the only huckleberry patch on the mountain, but she did love it. As a kid she’d come here to read and study, or just sit and dream about the future.

  Libby closed her eyes and let the trees and water and wind whisper to her. She loved the Cascades, though life under an active volcano like Mount Rainier had its moments of concern. They weren’t far from Mount Saint Helens…or what was left of the mountain after the top third had blown away in an eruption.

  Soft, warm air disturbed the hair at her temple and Libby’s eyelids shot open. Neil stood so close she could feel his body heat from her shoulders to her knees.

  “Thought you’d forgotten me,” he said, putting his hand on the tree above her head.

  Forget him?

  Not a chance.

  Even if she wanted to.

  “I was thinking about the mountain.”

  Neil glanced upward. The snow-shrouded monolith of Mount Rainier stood sentinel over them, a reminder that their lives were nothing but a flicker in the existence of the old giant.

  “Never thought I’d be jealous of a mountain,” he mused.

  Libby made a huffy sound. “You aren’t jealous. You have to actually care to be jealous.”

  “Of course I care—I just kissed a woman, but she’s thinking about a mountain. A very attractive mountain to be sure, but it is just a mountain.”

  “Maybe you should do it again and get it right.”

  For a moment Neil wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Libby, the preacher’s daughter, sassing him over a kiss. His blood pressure went up a few notches.

  “I always do like getting things right.”

  Yet he hesitated, wanting to be certain. It was pure madness pursuing any kind of personal contact with Libby, but he couldn’t seem to help himself, not when she seemed equally interested.

  “Neil…I, uh…”

  The sound of his name was all he needed.

  His mouth settled slowly, rubbing gently over Libby’s in a chaste kiss that nevertheless sent blood rushing to the top of his thighs. He let it stay that way for a long moment, then stroked the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue until she opened for him.

  Yes.

  Warning himself to go carefully, he explored deeper, tasting the lingering hint of huckleberry and something that seemed to be uniquely Libby.

  Slim arms grasped his waist, then her hands moved up his chest, kneading and exploring like a curious cat.

  Neil inhaled sharply and realized her perfume was far more subtle and complex than pure vanilla, it was a mixture of vanilla and spice and herbal scents that blended perfectly into a fresh, seductive whole.

  He hadn’t always enjoyed long, lingering kisses, seeing them merely as a prelude to the main event. But he liked them now. Slow, deep kisses that went on forever. Problem was, now that he’d started liking them that way, it seemed women were the ones in a hurry.

  But not Libby.

  She smelled good, tasted good, and oh my, did she kiss good.

  Sometime in the past decade she’d picked up some experience in the kissing department, and a stab of jealousy left Neil wondering who might have been responsible. It was illogical and arrogant, but he was alone on a mountain with a woman who kissed like the first Eve and had the smile of a Christmas angel. Nothing about Libby was logical.

  “Neil?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Is it working?” she whispered between kisses.

  “What?”

  “Is the air getting cleared?” Libby asked, her head spinning. Here she was, kissing Neil O’Rourke again, something she’d sworn never to do, and liking it far too much.

  “I think it’ll take a little longer,” he whispered. “And a little of this.”

  The “this” was obvious when his hand covered her right breast, thumb flicking over the sensitive peak. The tense, grabby sensation in Libby’s abdomen suddenly got a lot worse, and she wriggled, hoping to make it go away.

  Neil’s other hand grasped her hip, halting her gyrations. “Don’t do that,” he growled.

  “Do what?”

  “Move.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “Yeah, I like it.” He backed away, dragging deep breaths into his lungs. “That was some experiment.

  At least it got you to call me Neil, instead of Mr. O’Rourke.”

  Neil.

  She had called him by his first name, and Libby shook her head with anger. She didn’t know who she was maddest at—Neil or herself. What an idiot she’d been. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know better.

  “Then you win. I hope you’re happy.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Neil winced at Libby’s outraged expression as she spun and stalked out of the huckleberry patch. He started to straighten, then groaned; he was still aroused to the point of pain.

  “Hey, I need a couple of minutes,” he called after her, but she kept marching.

  It was a while before he could stand straight without discomfort, and by then Libby was long gone. He didn’t think he’d get lost on the way back to Huckleberry House—he wasn’t that far from the old place—but he would have preferred a different end to their kiss.

  “Damn,” Neil muttered as he leaned over the small seep Libby had pointed out earlier, splashing water on his face and longing for a cold shower. He had a feeling he’d be taking a lot of them in the next few months if he kept working in such close contact with Libby.

  Birds twittered in the trees above him and a squirrel scolded from a high perch, periodically tossing down pieces of a pine cone. They knew he didn’t belong. It was just like in Endicott that morning, when he’d realized that somehow he was no longer in charge of the situation—a city slicker who didn’t have a clue. It wouldn’t matter, except he was supposed to be starting a small town B and B line.

  He was supposed to be starting the line?

  Neil frowned.

  Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t the only one responsible for the project, Libby shared in that responsibility and she knew small towns from the inside out. Like it or not, she could mean the difference between success and failure. It was a hard pill to swallow, because he’d always done things alone, his own way, and now he really needed someone else.

  A glance at his wristwatch showed
it was less than an hour before their appointment with the real estate agent. Trying to ignore the nagging ache in his groin, he followed the winding path out to the main trail, then down to Huckleberry House.

  Libby sat on the sagging front step of the house, looking straight ahead.

  “I might have gotten lost,” he said to test her mood.

  “It was only a quarter mile, I would have heard you bellow for help long before you really got lost.”

  Bellow?

  Okay.

  Her mood hadn’t overly improved.

  Neil stuck his hands in his pockets. “Libby, I didn’t kiss you because I wanted to win something and it had nothing to do with getting you to stop calling me Mr. O’Rourke.”

  “Fine.”

  “It isn’t fine. I didn’t know what to say, and then I realized you’d called me Neil. I really liked it. Hell, you’re right about me being stuffy at work,” he admitted. “It’s just hard knowing I’m good at my job, but having everyone think I’m only around because my brother owns the company.”

  “Nobody thinks that.”

  Libby pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, wishing she could stay angry. But she knew Neil hadn’t meant to insult her, and the frustrated pride in his explanation struck a sympathetic chord inside her. She’d struggled at O’Rourke Enterprises in her own way.

  “Everyone thinks I went from the typing pool to an executive position so quickly just because Kane likes me,” she said finally. “Some of them probably think we were involved, though they’re too polite to say so to my face.”

  “You know better.”

  “So do you. Does it help?”

  “I guess not.”

  She stood up and grabbed the sweatshirt she’d been sitting on to protect her skirt. “Nobody thinks you aren’t qualified, Neil. The whole company is in awe of the way you cut business deals. You’re smart and decisive and don’t have to prove yourself to a single person.”

  “Except to you.”

  Libby let out a humorless laugh and looked up. “You’re the division president with a master’s degree in business administration. I’m just a vice president with a fraction of your experience. I’m the one who has to prove myself, and I’ve done a lousy job of showing I’m capable.”