Lexi smiled as she headed for her cabin. Finally, she had a writing task she could actually accomplish.

Sure, it was only a list. But that list could lead to ideas sparking, and ideas always led to a plot. By the time she got out of here, she might actually have the beginning of her next book. Any hint of a story would be better than the cursor blinking at her, from the top of a blank document.

She shook herself off on the small porch, and hung her still dripping jacket just inside the door, on a convenient hook. The camp had been much more rustic when she had been here as a kid. Now that it catered to adults, everything was still rustic, but in a “I’m in the woods but I want comfort” way.

Until Lexi had learned the real theme of this week, she had been enjoying her surroundings—and the memories that came with being here again.

Her friends were going to get the lecture of their lives when she got back home. Starting with Jamie.

She sat at the small desk, and pulled out her original list. She’d given Nick a hasty copy, not wanting to let go of hers. He had glanced at it, then almost tossed it aside, like all her work had been nothing—

“Stop projecting, Lex,” she muttered. “You don’t know what he was thinking.”

She didn’t want to explore what she had been thinking, watching his lean but muscular body as he moved around the office. Like a cat, with the barely contained energy of a predator.

“Okay—enough of that. Time to focus.”

And she did, for the next hour, until her rumbling stomach demanded attention. She gave in and wrapped herself up again, not wanting to face the rain just so she could eat.

There was her stash in the desk, but at this point she needed real food. Maybe she could sneak something back to her cabin, to beef up what she had here. That way, she could avoid going out again, at least until lunch tomorrow.

Thankfully, the rain had leveled off, and she didn’t even need a hood to get her from her cabin to the rustic dining lodge.

The second she stepped inside, all eyes were on her. Candy had been blabbing.

Several people stood and rushed toward her, holding recognizable books. Her books.

“Lexi Granger.” A short, heavyset woman waved her first book at her. Murder by Midnight. “I’ve been reading your books since I found your first one. Would you—sign this?” Her voice cracked at the end of her sentence and she blushed.

“I would be honored.” She took the obviously well-read book. “This is still one of my favorites.”

“I love it.” She leaned in and whispered. “I still read it at least once a year. Jack is so dreamy.”

“I like him, as well.” Her enthusiasm waned as she headed for a place to sit. Nick reminded her far too much of Jack, her first hero, and the star of her longest series. She pushed the unwanted thought out of her mind and sat at a small table. “Who should I make it out to?”

“Geneva Moore.” She smiled at Lexi’s surprised glance. “I was born in Geneva, and my parents thought it was romantic.”

“I like it.” Lexi touched her wrist. “It suits you.”

Geneva blushed deeper. “Thanks. Is it true you’re going to solve the jewelry thefts?”

She said it loud enough for half the room to hear.

“I gave my conclusions to security, and they promised to take it seriously.”

“But—you will keep investigating, won’t you?”

Lexi finished signing the book and handed it to Geneva. “If they ask for my help.”

She hoped that was the end of it.

Unfortunately, as a line formed behind Geneva, and she ended up signing at least twenty books, Lexi was pelted with questions. She did her best to field some, and deflect others. By the time the last person walked up, she had a headache, and her stomach was seriously unhappy with her.

Candy was the last person, and she gave Lexi an apologetic look as she handed over her book. “I’m so sorry. I’m afraid this is my fault. I’ve been telling everyone about you—but not about the investigation. That was Andrea.”

“No problem.” Lexi signed her book, surprised that it was a limited edition of the latest in her series—also starring the dreamy Jack. Murder in Spades had pushed her from midlist seller to almost bestseller. If she could just write her next book before the looming deadline, that might blow her past the elusive line. “I hope you enjoyed it.”

“I loved it! That ending had me up half the night reading, and I seriously never saw the twist coming.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” She’d worked hard on leading readers down the false path, then springing the twist on them. It was one of the reasons she loved writing mystery. Sometimes, she even surprised herself. “I’m going to get something to eat, before my stomach starts a rebellion.”

“Oh, gosh—I’m so sorry to keep you!”

“Don’t worry about it.” She stood, and patted Candy’s arm. “I enjoy meeting people who read my books.”

Before Candy could open her mouth to respond, Lexi escaped, heading for the half empty buffet. She created a small, jumbled meal from what was left, and managed to snag two apples, a bunch of grapes, and three cheesy jalapeno bagels with four individual tubs of cream cheese. Adding this to her stash would tide her over until lunch tomorrow.

She sat down, and discreetly stuffed the extra food in her coat pockets before she started eating.

Because she would forget to eat when she wrote, stocking up on easy to grab food made her life simple. The fruit would make a nice, light breakfast, and the carbs would help her sleep tonight. Her mind was already on overdrive, between her conversation with the women and the exchange with Nick.

God, did he challenge her—and she’d enjoyed every second. She was so tired of men who wanted to talk about their feelings, and argue the merits of mousse over pomade. She obviously met the wrong kind of men. Not one of them had challenged her, made her laugh, or left her as needy, as hot, as five minutes with Nick Standish.

Her ex, Lance, had taken up more of the bathroom counter with his “men’s products” than she could in a lifetime. Lexi had to start keeping her expensive moisturizer in her office after she’d caught Lance using it.

That had been the beginning of the end, for her. Of course, finding him in bed with one of her friends when she came home early from a book signing had something to do with kicking him out.

She let out a sigh, and pushed Lance out of her mind. She let out another sigh when she opened the door, and it was pouring again.

After zipping up, and pulling up her hood, she started trudging toward her cabin.

She heard footsteps behind her. Before she had time to turn around a heavy weight slammed into her. She hit the path. Hard.

“What are you—”

One gloved hand wrapped around her throat, and she stilled. The owner leaned in, whispering in a muffled voice. “Leave now, mystery writer. You won’t like what happens to you if you stay.”

Before she could think of a smart comeback, her attacker jerked her to her feet, and shoved her into the mud next to the path.

She skidded, and let out a pained cry when a tree stopped her. By the time she could see straight, whoever had jumped her was gone.

“Lexi!”

Nick crouched next to her. Fabulous—the last person she wanted to see her covered in mud.

Wait—where did that come from?

“Okay,” she whispered, and flinched when she tried to sit.

“Did you see who attacked you?”

“The coward jumped me from behind. Ouch—”

Nick stilled. “Where are you hurt?”

“Not hurt—I smacked into the tree after the coward shoved me.”

“Shoved you—”

To her horror, Nick picked her up in his arms and started carrying her toward the lodge. Where other people would see her like this. Helpless, fragile. She swore no one would ever say that about her again.

“Put me down. Nick—”

“Once I assess the damage, Miss Granger.”

She didn’t even think about arguing with that growling tone.

Nick carried her past the lodge, and to a small cabin behind it, settling her carefully to a chair on the covered porch.

“What are you—oh,” she whispered, when he lifted her muddy shirt.

“Where are you hurt?”

“I hit the tree with my left hip—and no, you are not going to peel off my jeans and check for bruises.” The thought appealed to her more than she wanted it to.

“I am going to get you inside, and out of these wet clothes. You can shower while I scrounge something dry for you.”

“I can go back to my cabin…” Her voice faded when the rain behind him turned to hail, pinging off the metal roof of the porch. “Okay, you win.”

She started shivering, now that the adrenaline had worn off. Nick sept her up and carried her inside. If she wasn’t so annoyed with his “I’m the man and you’re a frail, dainty woman” vibe, she would think it was romantic.

Nick kept going, through the neat cabin, and into the small, equally neat bathroom. He helped her out of her muddy coat before setting her on the edge of the tub.

“Get in the shower. I’ll have dry clothes for you by the time you’re done. Don’t come out until you’ve lost the chill.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, after he closed the door. She hated men who thought they were the superior gender, that they—

“Not Lance,” she muttered, and pushed to her feet. “He is not Lance.”

It took more effort than she expected to undress. When she got to her soaked jeans, her left hip protested, loudly, and she slowly eased them down. She was afraid to look at the damage, but she did, moving to the back wall so she could see her hip in the small mirror.

A bruise marked her pale skin, already purpling. Her thick jeans had protected her from more damage, but both of her palms were scraped from falling on the path. And she found a small cut on her forehead, hidden until now by her dripping hair.

Thank God Nick hadn’t seen that. He probably would have called in the National Guard—

“Stop exaggerating, Lex.” She let out a sigh, and turned on the water in the tub.

He was security for the camp; of course he was going to do whatever was necessary to keep the campers safe and happy.

Once the water was nice and hot, she turned on the shower, and carefully climbed in. The steamy warmth helped take off the chill, and as long as she kept her hip directly out of the pounding spray, it didn’t hurt.

She gently washed her abraded palms, wincing when the soap hit raw skin. Since there was a brand of shampoo and conditioner she liked, she decided to wash her hair. With it shorter, that part of showering took so much less time and effort.

By the time she finished, and grabbed one of the thick white towels, she was ready to sit down, have something warm to eat. Her meager lunch hadn’t done much to fill her still rebelling stomach.

As much as she wrote about being attacked by suspects in her books, having it actually happen to her turned out to be more exhausting than she imagined.

When she opened the shower curtain, she spotted a hoodie and sweat pants on the edge of the sink, bearing the Camp Firefly Falls logo. At least she’d be warm. Her pile of wet clothes had disappeared.

She dressed slowly, her hip really aching now, and her head starting to do the same. When she limped out of the bathroom, the scent of fresh bread and soup had her stomach growling.

Nick glanced over at her from the small table in the kitchen. Heat flushed her cheeks when she saw the food she’d nicked neatly lined up on the counter. “Stocking up for the flood?”

“I wanted to avoid leaving my cabin until tomorrow.”

He eyed her selection, then turned to her. “You’re not a vegetarian, or vegan, or a tree hugger, are you?”

She burst out laughing, her embarrassment forgotten. “I love meat, and I only hug trees when I’m feeling especially nature loving. I do like vegetables, as long as there’s meat on the plate with them. What’s cooking?”

“Scotch broth. It’s a family recipe.”

“Smells amazing.” Her stomach growled again, loud enough for him to hear. “My stomach agrees with me.”

He smiled, and headed over to the stove. Lexi noticed that he had taken his jacket off, and his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, revealing tanned, muscled forearms. He also moved with catlike grace, and it was a pleasure to watch him.

Unlike Lance, who had preened at every reflective surface, and kept nagging her about his appearance.

“Do I have something on my face?” Nick’s deep, growling voice jerked her out of her thoughts. “You’re staring.”

“Sorry.” She felt heat flush her face. Again. Damn her pale skin—it showed everything. “I was—thinking.”

“About something unpleasant, judging from the frown.” He dished up a bowl of soup and set it in front of the chair closest to her, adding a crusty roll. “Come and eat. I don’t like your color.”

“That’s called embarrassment.”

He chuckled, and joined her. Even with the table between them, his presence threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to eat, and get the hell out of here, before she did something stupid.

Nick’s intensity attracted her, and she didn’t want to be attracted to him. Couldn’t be attracted to him. She wasn’t ready for—

“Lexi.” The way he said her name, in that growling voice, made her heart pound. “You’re bleeding.”

“Oh.” She set her spoon down, her hand going to her temple. “I found a small cut, but I didn’t think it would bleed anymore.”

“Let me take a look.” He grabbed a first aid kit from under the sink, and crouched in front of her. She swallowed when he cupped her chin, tilting her head to examine the cut. “Not bad, but head wounds tend to bleed more. I’m going to put a butterfly bandage on it, to keep the edges of the cut together. That should take care of it.”

“Were you a paramedic in your former life?”

His hands stilled. “No,” he said. He took a deep breath, then focused on her cut. “That should do.” He stood, and she felt him withdraw, even though he was right in front of her. “I want you to check in with the camp doctor, before you return to your cabin. You might have a concussion.”

“Any other orders, sir?” She knew she sounded sarcastic, and ungrateful, but she was tired of men telling her what to do.

“You wouldn’t like the orders I want to give you,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Lexi pushed to her feet and followed him into the kitchen. “Don’t talk if you’re not willing to share.”

“I said, you wouldn’t like the orders I want to give you.”

She took a step back when he turned around, recognizing the glint in his eyes. She’d seen it enough times when Lance had stared at her—right before he’d jumped her.

“I should—go.” She tripped over the chair behind her, and cursed when she almost lost her balance. Nick’s hand closed over her wrist, steadied her, and shot heat through her. “Let me go.”

“Sweetheart, I wish I could.” He reeled her in, slowly, until she stood between his legs. “You’ve been distracting me since the second you stormed into the security office.”

She managed a halfhearted protest before he kissed her.

Need had her twisting her hands into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. He answered her wish by hauling her off her feet and setting her on the counter. With a low moan, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and tangled her hands in his thick hair.

Nick slid his hand under her hoodie, and she shivered when he touched bare skin, arching into him. He deepened the kiss, and she gasped when his hand closed over her breast. Heat coiled through her, and his rough, calloused thumb left her aching as he circled her nipple.

He started rocking against her, his kiss hotter, his other hand spreading over her stomach, slipping under the waistband of her sweats. God help her, she wanted him to touch her. Lance had been so selfish with his lovemaking, she had felt like she could have been any woman, and he would have been just fine with it.

But Nick—he kissed her like she was the only woman in the world, his hands on her so gentle, but so insistent.

She wanted to feel bare skin. Before she could talk herself out of it, she let go of him and reached for the buttons on his shirt.

“You’re killing me, Lex.” Nick pushed her fumbling fingers aside, and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a muscular chest, abs she could do laundry on—and what looked like bullet scars on his left shoulder. He stopped her before she could touch them. “I’ll tell you later.”

“You better.” She traced her fingers down his chest, spread her hand over his stomach, smiling when he shuddered. “Nice abs.”

“Thanks.” He sounded like he was strangling. She kept moving down, and he jerked when she spread her hand over the bulge in his jeans. “Damn it—Lex—”

She gasped as his hand slid under her sweats again, and he slipped one finger inside her. He hesitated, like he was waiting for her to reject him. Instead, she opened herself to him, and ran her hands down his chest, around to his fine ass. She desperately wanted to feel more, to feel all of him.

He watched her face as he slipped a second finger into her.

“Lexi—”

“Don’t stop.” She let her head fall back, rocking against his hand. “Nick—”

“I want you, Lexi. God help me, I want you.”

He stroked her with his fingers, and Lexi let out a raw cry, gripping his arms. His lips cut her off; with a moan, she opened herself to his heat, his passion—and let out a sharp gasp when his fingers dug into her bruised hip.

Nick ended the kiss and slipped his fingers out of her before he stepped back. “Shit—sorry. I’m sorry, Lexi. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s not like I said no.” She slid off the counter, her hip aching. Her mind screamed at her to run, before she embarrassed herself further. Her body wanted him to keep doing what he had been doing. Touching her, filling her— “I should get back.”

“Finish your soup first.”

“I don’t think I should.” She knew she wouldn’t be able to sit across from him, like nothing had happened between them.

“Lexi—”

“Stop ordering me around, damn it. I’m tired of it, Lance.”

She clapped one hand over her mouth, too late to stop the slip.

Oh, God—

On top of embarrassing, she had just added mortifying.