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  Reluctantly letting her legs drop until her feet hit the ground, only to discover that she was trembling, she let Remy shield her from the visitor’s view until she gathered her composure. When she was able, they turned toward a man sitting in a golf cart with a little trailer hitched to it.

  “Eve, this is Jack Miller, the owner of Sweetwater Campgrounds,” Remy introduced, sweeping one hand out, the other he kept at her back. It felt so protective she nearly swooned.

  “Hello,” she greeted. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Miller.”

  “No need for formalities,” he replied, shutting off the golf cart and climbing out.

  He looked to be in his fifties, his hair was mostly gray and he had a bushy mustache. In his hand was a cowboy hat that he’d taken off when Remy introduced him and worn cowboy boots were on his feet.

  “I’m sorry it’s an imposition to wait a few days for a set of tires,” Jack said.

  “With all the other cars that received worse damage, we’re just grateful no one was hurt,” Remy replied.

  “Were you able to find enough to eat? Those teardrop campers are popular, but also limited in food storage,” Mr. Miller asked, looking over at the small camper decorated to reflect with the New England Paranormal Investigators logo, a friendly ghost with a video camera in its pale hand.

  Remy bent down and picked up the big overstuffed paper bag, keeping it in front of him.

  “Got fixings for s’mores, hotdogs, coffee, a half-dozen eggs and bread for toast in the morning,” he said. “I also picked up some lemons and peppermint sticks, makes for a tasty treat.”

  “Great, don’t forget the diner at the entrance to the campground. They have excellent meals, on the house, considering what you two have been through. Anything you need, give me a call on my cell phone. I’ve given you my card,” Jack Miller said kindly.

  “Will do,” Remy said.

  Eve thanked the other man again, watching him walk away. But once the golf cart headed down the gravel road, Remy withdrew all the way to the chuck wagon-style kitchen built into the back of the camper, where he was busy storing food in ice chests and a tiny fridge.

  “Can I help with that?” she offered, though it seemed as if the job was done in the matter of a few seconds.

  “Not necessary,” Remy answered.

  “How about the inside of the camper, can I make up the bed or something?”

  “Won’t take but a few minutes to unroll the sleeping bags and fluff the pillows.”

  Translation, he was putting up the boundaries and treating her with kid gloves again. Damn, their first chance blown by the honk of a horn.

  “Remington Sinclair, don’t you dare do this,” she warned.

  “Do what?”

  “Pretend our kiss didn’t happen. It did. I’ll never forget it.”

  Remy stopped what he was doing, straightening to his full six foot six height. “Tell me something, sugar. Does the erection in my pants look as if I’ve forgotten?”

  Lowering her eyes to his well-worn black jeans, she instantly felt the pang of desire deep in the heart of her pussy. Whoa! Remy Sinclair’s bulge was so significant she actually started to drool.

  “Remy,” she murmured, stunned even as he headed right for her.

  “Does it, Eve?”

  Backing up against the truck, she was stunned when she could go no further and Remy kept coming at her. At last he was there, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck, pushing his cock right into the vee between her thighs.

  “Does it?” he repeated himself, rocking into her.

  The heat of his cock, the thickness and rampant need driving him to thrust his hips had her right where she’d longed to be for months. If Remy stripped her right then, she’d have spread her legs and invited him to end their sexual frustrations once and for all.

  “You’ve not forgotten,” she answered.

  “Now that you know I want to fuck you, take some time to make sure you’re ready for me.”

  “I don’t need time,” she stated.

  “Being with me goes beyond the norm, Eve. You need to be prepared. Once we’re hidden inside that trailer tonight, if you’re still willing, you’re mine.”

  With kisses and bites, Remy’s mouth carved a heated path from her throat to her lips. Temptingly his mouth lingered over hers, testing her, his tongue tangling with hers in a little dance before drawing back.

  Drawing back, he pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing in and out, calming himself perhaps.

  “Promise you won’t let me hurt you, Eve. If I push you too much, ask too much of you there’s always an out. Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” she said. “Do you mean a safeword?”

  “Eventually you’ll need one, but we’re nowhere near ready to talk about what that means,” he answered. “Think on it for a bit. Please. Be sure, sugar.”

  “I’d like to grab some things out of my suitcase and head to the bathhouse to wash up. Do you mind?”

  Remy stepped back. Naturally, her eyes went to the zipper of his black jeans. Whoa, he was still hard. If only she could reach out and touch…

  “Eve, eyes up,” he warned in a soft voice that commanded more response than if he’d shouted. “That’s for your benefit, okay? Grab what you need and I’ll escort you to the bathhouse.”

  That made Eve smile. “Are you getting protective on me, Boss?”

  “Yes. If something happens to you, it’d kill me.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Remy, but it’d be very nice to have company.”

  “Give me a sec to get a change of clothes too,” he said.

  His easygoing charm returned and Eve became more settled. Joining him at the back of the truck, she waited while Remy opened up the canvas top to reveal where their suitcases were stored.

  It took a few minutes to grab something to wear for the rest of the evening. Tucking her clothes, toiletries and a bath towel into a small knapsack, she watched Remy remove two camp chairs and carry them over to a fire pit. Shortly, he returned to refasten the canvas top.

  Knowing there was a lot of expensive equipment stored in the back she paused.

  “Remy, are you sure one of us shouldn’t hang back and guard the equipment? I know you just got a new thermal-imaging camera.”

  “It’s doubtful anything will happen to it way out here. Even so, equipment is replaceable. You’re not.”

  Suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating, she had to take a breath and calm down. Wow, Remy Sinclair was many things, a gentleman among them. To think her father had been against the idea of her driving across the country with her boss.

  Granted, as the CEO and CFO of Stratham Investments, her father wasn’t always the easiest man to deal with on a daily basis. But after his younger business partner and his mistress were revealed as killers, he’d developed serious trust issues, running background check after background check on his employees from top to bottom.

  Additionally, he’d attempted to lure Eve into accepting a lucrative position in his company rather than preferred her current job as Remy’s history consultant and her part-time gig as a history and genealogy instructor at Salem Community College.

  Fortunately, she was able to handle the workload because the classes were mini-semesters and she’d worked out a schedule with Remy that allowed her to concentrate on teaching when the classes were in session.

  The problem with her father was multiplied by the fact that he’d reluctantly agreed to back off pressuring Remy with details about their road trip after she agreed to think about dating his VP of marketing, Matt Bucher. There were a lot of reasons she’d never date Matt, but those stemmed from circumstances when she was a teenager.

  “Can I help you with that?” Remy offered, reaching for her knapsack.

  “I’ve got it,” she said.

  Remy confiscated it anyway. Flinging the bag over his big shoulder, he manipulated his stack of folded up-clothes so that he could fall into st
ep beside her and place his arm at her waist. Loving the way he stayed at her side, she walked with him to the gravel road that led to the campground entrance.

  At the door of the bathhouse, they kissed and separated, with Remy promising he’d come running if she needed him. Eve snagged her bag and ducked into the women’s side, noticing in an instant that the facility was clean and felt very safe.

  A couple of teenaged girls were fawning over their makeup in a mirror and talking about some boys they’d met at the indoor pool. A mom and her young daughter were setting their shower supplies up outside of a shower stall.

  The bathhouse itself looked like a log cabin with vaulted ceilings, paddle fans, exposed beams and it had a fresh pine scent. Better yet, it was heated, which was lovely since it had grown a bit chillier with the sun beginning to go down.

  Proceeding to a far shower stall, she went inside and locked the door. The stall was two sided, with the shower closed off by a curtain, a stool to sit on and a narrow table, where she placed her pajama pants, underwear and a Boston Red Sox tee shirt.

  She wouldn’t have to take too long. She’d washed her hair and taken a hot bubble bath late last night in anticipation of leaving early in the morning. After spending so long in the truck and then the mishap on the road that temporarily stranded them at the campground, a shower was definitely in order.

  Stripping quickly, she was careful to check that her hair comb still bound her locks up off her shoulders to keep it from getting too damp and slid the curtain aside, reaching in to turn on the water. Taking soap and the travel-sized package of feminine cleansing tissues, she stepped inside the shower.

  She didn’t know if it was her imagination or not, but she thought heard water running beyond the wall she was facing. Maybe Remy was on the other side taking his shower. There was no way to know, but it sure was nice knowing he was close.

  Concentrating on her task, she picked up her soap and scrubbed herself clean. A few minutes later, she watched the last tendrils of suds swirl down the drain as she washed between her legs with cleansing wipes.

  If this night was going to happen, she wanted to smell nice and look nice for Remy. It was still if in her mind. Hopefully, he wouldn’t talk himself out of it while he was away from her.

  He’d told her point blank that he was a bisexual switch and she’d known with a little help from her friends back home that he’d recently joined Druid Creek Castle’s BDSM club. Once she’d learned that, she began researching the lifestyle but she was a long way from understanding or deciding if she wanted to engage in it.

  Honestly, certain aspects of BDSM were an absolute turn-off. She had no wish to be beaten or whipped or turned into a Dominant’s slave. But she knew the lifestyle was more complicated than that and was intrigued by bondage and surrendering control to a lover.

  Maybe when the time was right, Remy would help her understand the cravings within herself. The few times he showed dominance today, her body responded, her mind had been engaged, interested.

  And yet, she couldn’t forget what her friend Morgan Maddox, a gifted psychic, told her before she left Massachusetts. She’d claimed Eve and Remy would become lovers during an unscheduled stop in their itinerary…and soon after their lives would be changed by a man who was the polar opposite in physical features and coloring to Remy, but would in fact be the yin to Remy’s yang.

  Curious to find out what would happen when she and Remy reached Dare, Eve refocused on the here and now. Tonight was their night, their first time. She only hoped Remy didn’t come to regret it.

  Remy took five minutes to shower, turning the water cold toward the end to douse his erection for the time being. After drying off with his towel, he knotted it at his waist and went over to a sink with a mirror to shave and brush his teeth.

  He didn’t want to linger as he didn’t want to leave Eve alone for too long in a strange place. He didn’t get a sense that anything was amiss at the bathhouse, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

  He’d meant it when he said it’d kill him if something happened to her. His reality TV show had become a success faster than he’d anticipated and Eve was a welcome addition to his small team a year ago and they’d become friends. But she meant more to him than that.

  In private, he’d imagined all the ways he wanted to fuck her. In reality, he’d kept his hands off her until today. Now that they’d kissed, all bets were off. He couldn’t very well tuck her back into a neat little box and pretend he didn’t want her.

  But she had to understand the kind of man he was first. As much as he intended to be the man she deserved, there was a very real part of him that reared its head whenever he’d thought he’d found love with a woman—the desire to fuck men.

  The same desire that broke his ex-fiancée’s heart.

  It was true he’d dated Beth all through high school, proposing to her before she went to Holy Cross. But when he’d gone to Yale, he’d experienced his first man-crush on the RA in his dorm.

  He’d tried to keep his distance, then his little brother Blair disappeared and Stefan opened his arms. After tears and tequila-induced confessions, Remy woke up the following morning in a tangle of a man’s arms and legs, his ass still smarting from the fucking his new lover had given him.

  One night with Stefan turned into much more, with his lover introducing him to bisexual orgies that had no rhyme or reason, only pleasure. There was never any commitment from Stefan, simply the promise to not ask any questions as Remy sought to understand why Blair haunted him and why his family didn’t believe in him.

  By the end of his senior year in college, his engagement to Beth ended when he confessed that he had a male lover, sending her into a tailspin that led to her accident. To this day, he regretted that he hadn’t broken things off after high school.

  Back then he’d been scared of many things, primarily upsetting his parents who’d looked to his and Beth’s wedding day as a means of healing after his brother disappeared. Dresses had been ordered for the bridesmaids, tuxes were fitted, a church and reception hall reserved, invitations were to be mailed.

  That was when he knew he couldn’t live a lie anymore. To that end, maybe it was time to let go of what happened to Beth and trust that he’d never repeat his mistakes with Eve. Once they became friends, he could honestly look back and say there’d not been a single man or woman he’d wanted to fuck more than Eve.

  There’d been a brief time when he’d pretended to have an attraction to Morgan Everhart, who was now married to Ethan Maddox. Once he realized she wasn’t available, he’d flirted with Alex Grant and Dr. Ryan Hathaway in order to hide his feelings for Eve.

  Now he adored Morgan as he did a little sister and the men were more like brothers than potential lovers. A lot had changed since then, within himself and with Eve.

  Turning away from the mirror, Remy went back to the row of benches where he’d left his things and got dressed in a pair of old jeans, a black tee shirt with NEPI—New England Paranormal Investigators—initials in red, and a pair of Crocs.

  Finished, he packed up his dirty stuff, grabbed his leather jacket and headed out of the bathhouse to wait for Eve. She came out a few minutes later, her almost-straight brunette hair worn down. Whenever she read or used the computer, she tended to wear reading glasses, but right now the glasses were gone.

  Seeing her hair hanging loose and falling to her elbows, he realized it was the same color as the milk chocolate he’d bought for s’mores. Fighting off the urge to run his fingers through her hair, he dropped all he was carrying except his jacket.

  “Everything okay in the bathhouse?” he asked, draping his jacket over her shoulders.

  “It was awesome and heated,” she answered, huddling under his coat. “I met a nice woman and her daughter. They warned me that it’d get pretty cold tonight. Sorry if it took too long.”

  “No problem,” he assured, taking the backpack she’d carried and stuffed his things inside. Belatedly thinking he should ha
ve checked with her first, he looked up to catch her staring at him. “What’s wrong? Sorry if I should’ve asked.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. It’s kind of cool to see my boss loosening up,” she admitted.

  “Makes sense to pack together,” he said, shrugging.

  “Remy, if you’re having second thoughts, I won’t push this between us,” Eve said.

  Zipping the backpack, he stood and hung it from his right shoulder, facing her.

  “Sugar, the cold shower I took means it’s a little too late to have second thoughts. Let’s get back to camp and make dinner.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, going up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “I adore you, Remy Sinclair.”

  “I feel the same way about you. I may have tried to fight it, but now that the cat’s out of the bag I’m not going to retreat.”

  She made a cute little kitty-like hiss. “Careful, these claws can leave marks.”

  He hoped so. He’d relish scratch marks from her French manicured nails as badges of honor.

  Eve was a pretty woman with hazel eyes, wholesome features, a heart-shaped face and a mouth with a slightly fuller upper lip. Once she’d compared herself to a duck. He didn’t see the resemblance, he thought she was beautiful.

  Focusing on Eve, Remy ran his hand down her spine to the small of her back and noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra even through the thickness of his coat. He was a good deal taller than her. He liked that.

  He also liked how easily he could tuck her in nice and close. Just the slightest contact with the small of her back turned him on.

  Man, he really wanted to get her naked and explore her at length. She had a slender build, nice hips and legs. It’d be great to pick her up, wrap those legs around him and drive himself into her deep.

  “Remy, what made you decide to be a ghost hunter?” Eve asked out of the blue. “I’ve known you for a year and never thought to ask. I should have.”

  “Blair’s the reason,” he answered.

  “Blair?”

  Leading Eve away from the bathhouse, he thought about what to say. “He was my younger brother. He was ten when he died.”