Three hours later, as Roarke followed Donald and Abby through the forest, he could have cheerfully hoisted Donald up by his orange sweat suit and left him dangling from the nearest tree branch. The guy hadn’t stopped talking to Abby since they’d left camp. Apparently he was head of a product development team for Sony, and his endless stories of life at work gave the impression that the corporation would fold if Donald Smurtz left.

He might be wearing a primo listening device around his neck, but Roarke wondered how the guy could hear a thing through his earphones with all the noise coming out of his mouth. Roarke had never been tempted to shift into wolf form just to shut somebody up, but he was sorely tempted, now.

He wouldn’t do it, but he amused himself by imagining the expression on Donald’s round face if he turned and discovered a super-sized wolf walking quietly behind him. That would be one sweet moment.

Speaking of sweet moments, Roarke decided to pull out his handkerchief, ostensibly to mop his forehead. Pale sunlight filtered through the trees, but it wasn’t nearly hot enough to work up a sweat, especially at the snail’s pace Donald was setting. Still, Roarke could pretend he needed to wipe his weary brow.

Ah, yes. The musk of Abby’s aroused body improved his mood considerably. He hated to put the handkerchief away again. Then he had an inspiration. It was a generously sized handkerchief, and by stretching the opposing corners and rolling it up, he could create a sweatband.

He’d just tied the ends behind his head when Donald raised his hand like a traffic cop, as if he was Dr. Freaking Livingstone on safari. This was a guy who deserved to have crackers dumped in his sleeping bag, but Roarke wouldn’t do that, either. With his sweatband on, he could be mellow.

Halfway through a small meadow, Donald made a dramatic turn toward Abby and Roarke and spoke in measured tones. “My friends, the Sasquatch pair has changed course. They’re coming in our direction.”

“They’re coming toward us?” Abby spun around. “Roarke, what do you—” At that moment she must have noticed his sweatband, because her eyes widened. Then they crinkled at the corners and she slapped her hand over her mouth. She was laughing.

Roarke deadpanned her, which only made her laugh harder. He pretended to ignore her and addressed Donald. “That’s excellent news, Donald. Can you calculate how fast they’re moving?”

“Not fast at all. But the sound of their progress was a steady tone as they moved in the same direction as we did, but now it’s getting louder.”

Roarke took off his new sweatband with great reluctance and tucked it in his back pocket. He needed to focus on the Sasquatch scent, and he didn’t want any olfactory distractions. Okay, now he could recognize that the faint scent was growing imperceptibly stronger.

He didn’t like admitting that Donald had been of any use when he was also a royal pain in the ass, but he had been the first one to notice that the Sasquatch pair had changed direction and were circling back. Now that Roarke agreed with Donald’s assessment, it was time to put some plans into place.

To prepare the way for those plans, Roarke would have to kiss some ass. He’d love for it to be Abby’s, literally, but sadly, it would have to be Donald’s, metaphorically.

“I’m really impressed with the efficiency of your equipment, Donald,” he said. “If you don’t have a patent on that thing, you should get one the minute you get back.”

“Don’t worry.” Donald looked extremely pleased with himself. “I wanted to field test it first, but this baby is going to make me a bundle.” He smacked the listening device vigorously and then winced and took out the ear buds. “Forgot it was on. Powerful little thing.”

“Indeed.” Roarke fought to keep a straight face. Donald was a real piece of work. “I’d say it’s just saved us a whole lot of hiking.”

“Don’t you think we should just keep going? Unless they stop, we might sight them before dark.”

“But we don’t know what the terrain will be when that happens. Here we have a nice open meadow.”

Donald nodded approvingly. “Good thinking, Wallace. So we set ourselves up to wait, with our cameras ready, so we’re not taken by surprise. I knew you’d be a valuable asset to this operation.”

“Thanks. I also have to admit I’d like a break from hiking. You’re probably still fresh, but—”

“Oh, yeah. I could go all day.”

“Well, I can’t, and I’ll bet Abby would like to rest, too.”

“I’d be very grateful,” Abby said right on cue. “I haven’t wanted to say anything, but I scraped my thigh on a jagged branch back there, and I’m afraid to look at it. It feels as if blood’s dribbling all the way down my leg.”

“Uh-oh.” Roarke’s stomach twisted as he hurried toward her. “You should have said something, Abby. Let me take a look.”

Donald turned pale. “Uh, I’ll step away, if you don’t mind. I’m not so good with blood.”

“Thanks, Donald,” Abby said. “You’ll help preserve my modesty that way, too, because I’ll have to pull my pants down to show Roarke.”

Something in her tone, something that was almost a giggle, clued him in that she might be faking. God, he hoped so. He’d asked her to start thinking, and maybe this was what she’d come up with. The thought of her bleeding profusely was simply not acceptable.

Donald wandered up the trail. “You guys let me know when you’re finished, there. Sorry about being so squeamish, but I’ve been like that all my life.”

Roarke knelt in front of Abby and reached for the waistband of her Lycra pants. “Are you really hurt?” he asked in a low voice.

She leaned down. “No.”

He sighed in relief as he worked her pants down. “Good.”

“Sorry if I worried you, but I wanted your reaction to look authentic.”

“Believe me, it was authentic. The thought that you’d ripped open this soft skin…” He caressed the inside of her right thigh and shuddered. She shuddered, too, which stroked his male ego.

“No funny business, Roarke.”

“Not even a little funny business?”

“Not now. Maybe later. Here’s what I came up with. I have a bad gash. You’ll bind it with gauze and keep checking on it the rest of the day.”

He pulled her pants down to her knees. “I like that part. God, you smell good. Which leg?”

“I don’t care.”

“Your right, then.” He raised his voice. “Damn, Abby, you should have said something! You’re a mess!” Taking off his pack, he located his first aid kit and took out the roll of gauze.

She leaned closer. “Whenever you’re ready to intercept the Sasquatch pair, you’ll check my bandage and decide my wound’s infected and you’re leaving Donald in charge while you head back to civilization and pick up some antibiotics.”

“But nobody would prescribe—”

“Just say you have a doctor friend who will. And I have ibuprofen gel caps that should look close enough.”

“Abby Winchell, you’re brilliant.”

“Thank you.”

“Now spread your legs a little.”

“Roarke, I told you not to—”

“As much as I’d love to fool around with your warm and sexy body, I agree that now is not the time. I just need room to wind this gauze around your thigh. Do you want it closer to your crotch or your knee?”

“Closer to my crotch.”

He glanced up to find her grinning at him. “Somehow I knew you’d say that. You love to torture me, don’t you?”

“Who says you’re not torturing me?”

“I sincerely hope so.” He breathed in her special aroma as he wound the gauze around her thigh about two inches from the entrance to all things wonderful. “I’m going to recommend you rest in your tent for the rest of the day.”

“What if I get lonely?”

“I’ll check on you often.” His groin tightened at the prospect of all the times he’d have to play doctor with her today.

“I think you like my plan.”

“I’m crazy about your plan.” He reached up and pinched her butt.

“Ouch!”

“I’m so sorry, Abby!” he called out loud enough for Donald to hear. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but it’s a really deep cut.”

“Smart aleck,” she murmured. “You could have warned me you were going to do that.”

“I wanted it to be authentic.”

“And I suppose you just had to pinch me there.”

“I’ve wanted to do that again ever since last night. It’s one of my favorite parts of you.” He finished winding the gauze and tied it off. “I suppose we didn’t even have to do this part. He’ll never see your bandage.”

“I never told you to actually bandage me, now did I?”

He looked up and saw the mischief dancing in her blue eyes. “Then why did you go ahead and let me do it?”

“Why do you think, big boy?”

He caressed the silky skin of her thigh. “To get me hot, I suppose.”

“And me.”

He ran a knuckle over the crotch of her panties. They were deliciously damp. He stifled a groan. “Time to pitch your tent, little lady.”

“Thank you for tending to me, Dr. Wallace.”

He pulled her pants up and stood. “Oh, I’ll be tending to you a lot more. You’re going to need some serious tending.” He raised his voice. “All done, Donald! I’m going to help Abby to that rock over there and let her sit down while I pitch her tent. She needs to get off that leg.”

Donald walked back in their direction. “Pretty bad, huh?”

“Nasty gash.” Roarke hooked a shoulder under Abby’s right armpit. “If you have a queasy stomach, you don’t want to look at it.”

“Other side,” she muttered.

“Huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s the right leg, so you want to support me on the left side so I can hop on my left leg.”

“Oh. Right.”

“No, left.”

He blew out a breath. “That’s what I meant. I can already tell you’re going to be a difficult patient.”

“I think she’s a trouper,” Donald said. “Don’t worry about a thing, Abby. Roarke and I will handle this situation.”

“Thank you, Donald. I feel like the weak link.”

“Nah,” Donald said. “One thing about all this. Neither of you will forget this honeymoon!”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Roarke eased Abby down onto the rock. He’d never given much thought to his actual honeymoon—where he’d like to go or who he’d be spending it with. Up to now, he hadn’t been able to picture anyone in that role.

He didn’t have that problem anymore. Instead he had a different one. He couldn’t picture going on a honeymoon with anyone but Abby.

* * *

Abby lay in her small tent and listened to raindrops patter on the teal-colored nylon while the guys fixed lunch. According to Roarke, Donald’s tent had a front flap that could be propped up to provide shelter for things like making food. Roarke had promised to make sure Donald’s tent was set up a good distance from hers in the hope that Roarke and Abby could enjoy some alone time later.

She still wasn’t sure how Roarke planned to get her to see the Sasquatch pair and keep Donald away, but she’d handed him the first part of the plan and it seemed as if it would work. Her plan had come to her while listening to Donald’s monologue this morning.

Although he was the hero in nearly every story he’d told her, he’d mentioned an incident in which he’d cut himself on a sharp staple and his beautiful secretary had rushed to his aid with ointment, a bandage, and plenty of sympathy. His hands, it seemed, were critical to his team at Sony. On a hunch Abby had asked whether there had been any blood involved in this industrial accident of mammoth proportions. That’s when she’d learned that Donald had a serious phobia.

“Abby? Ready for some soup?”

“Bring it on, professor.” She sat up and scooted back in the tent to give him room. They hadn’t tried sharing this space yet, and she was curious about how they’d maneuver. He was very large.

He unzipped the flap and crouched down with a tin cup in each hand. “Minestrone.”

“Sounds great.”

“It will be if I can get it in there without dumping it all over both of us.”

“Well, we can’t eat outside in the rain. Let me help.” Donald wouldn’t be able to see through the opaque material of the tent, so she gave up the pretense of her injury and crawled toward the entrance. “Give me one of the cups.”

He handed it to her, and she crawled backwards and set the cup on a bare spot on the tent floor. Careful not to kick it, she crawled back. “Now the other one.” She repeated the process so that both cups were together on the floor. Then she carefully took a cross-legged position and hoped she’d left enough room for Roarke.

“This is one small tent.” He got on all fours, pulled off his hiking boots, and tucked them just inside the entrance before coming in. Closing the short distance to Abby, he kissed her full on the mouth.

She wouldn’t exactly say she’d been bored lying alone in the tent, but that kiss made life a whole lot more interesting. Cupping his head, she delved into his mouth with her tongue and made a happy little sound low in her throat.

He drew back with obvious reluctance. “You need to make that sound more like a moan of pain than a moan of ecstasy,” he murmured softly. “At least until he starts in with his harmonica.”

She kept her voice low. “Is that likely to happen soon?”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I hope so. I told him that playing the harmonica would be a good idea so the Sasquatch couple would be drawn to this very spot.”

“Smart man.”

“The problem is, he likes his food, and I don’t think he’ll start playing until after lunch. So maybe, all things considered, we should have our soup before I…” He paused to waggle his eyebrows at her. “. . . take off your bandage.”

“Do you think you can sit down?”

“Sort of.” He maneuvered into the spot she’d left for him and copied her cross-legged position, except he had to hunch over or his head would have made a dent in the roof. “Whose idea was it to bring these tiny tents, anyway?”

“Yours and Grandpa Earl’s, if I remember correctly. I wasn’t involved, and I came out to discover you’d both agreed these would be marvelous.” She handed him one of the cups.

“Yeah, well, they’re not. And explaining the separate tent thing to Donald was quite a challenge.”

“I didn’t hear that part.” Abby picked up her cup and took a sip. “What did you say?”

“I told him that when we got married, you were a virgin.”

Abby choked on her soup.

“Sorry.” Reaching over, he rubbed her back until she could breathe again. “I should have led up to that.”

“No, really? What makes you think so?” She glared at him, but kept her voice lowered. “That was the best you could do? A virgin?”

He shrugged. “I had to think fast, because he was obviously confused when he saw that we had two separate tents. I told him that you were so shy at first that you didn’t want me to see you dress and undress, so you wanted your own tent for that.”

“If he heard us in the cave this morning, I’m sure he knows I’ve recovered from that problem.”

“Oh, yeah, he knows. I told him that after a couple of nights with me, you’d turned into a wild woman.”

“You didn’t!”

“Shh.” He placed a hand over her mouth. “No, I didn’t. I can’t seem to resist teasing you, probably because I’m getting horny as hell and we can’t do anything about it until he starts playing his damned harmonica.”

“So what did you say about me?”

“That with some gentle persuasion, you’d emerged from your virginal shell and were starting to enjoy the benefits of marriage…to a stud.”

She whacked him on the arm. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I told you. I get like this when I’m sexually frustrated.”

“So think about something else. Tell me how you see the rest of this playing out. Unless you think he has his listening device pointed this way.”

“Nope. It’s permanently set up pointing at the Bigfoot pair lumbering in our direction.”

Her pulse rate spiked. “That’s pretty exciting, Roarke. Aren’t you excited?”

“Not about that.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve dealt with these creatures before, so it’s not quite the thrill for me that it is for you. Besides, they really do stink. That part won’t be any fun at all.”

“So how will this work, exactly?”

“I’ve been thinking about it, and here’s my idea.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “You lie down close to the edge of the tent, and if I lie on my side, I should be able to—”

“The Bigfoot plan, you sex maniac.”

“Oh. I assumed you meant how we could enjoy some nookie.”

She couldn’t help laughing, but she muffled it because she was supposed to be in pain. “You assumed wrong.”

He sighed. “Too bad. All right, I’ve been thinking about the other plan, too.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Do you want to hear this or shall I just start kissing you again?”

“I do, I do.” She gestured for him to continue. “Please.”

“Okay, once I make contact, I’ll figure out a place the Bigfoot pair can hide for a day or so. A cave would be perfect. I’ll tell them they have to be absolutely quiet so they won’t show up on Donald’s surveillance equipment. I’ll set a time when the helicopter will pick them up.”

“What about me seeing them?”

He rubbed her knee. “Take it easy. I’m getting to that. We’ll figure out a way for you to watch them board the helicopter.”

“And what about Donald?”

“I’m thinking some sort of misdirection. The Sasquatch will have gone silent, so when I come back with some fake antibiotics for you, I can bring news of sightings in a different part of the forest. If this trail has gone dead, I think he’d go.”

“We absolutely can’t let him near those creatures, Roarke. For all his brains, he’s incredibly insecure. He would use them shamelessly if he thought he could make a splash in the media and get his fifteen seconds of fame.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll protect them from him.”

“This time. But he’s developed that equipment specifically so he can locate them. He’s a menace.”

Roarke frowned. “You’re right. Maybe I need to arrange for a good scare while he’s out here, so he’ll give up on this idea completely.”

“I’d be in favor of that. Something involving blood should work.”

“Right.” Draining the last of his soup, Roarke set down his cup. “And speaking of squeamish Donald, I sure would appreciate him playing us a little tune.”

“Are you sure about this idea? Even if he can’t hear anything, I’m afraid we’ll look like a couple of cats in a bag.”

“You just have no faith in me at all, do you?”

“Yes, I do, but—”

“There’s a slight breeze blowing, so I suggested that he face his tent away from it so he can sit in the doorway under the flap to play without getting wet from the rain. Turns out the breeze was very cooperative, and now the front of his tent faces in such a way that he can’t even see yours.”

She gazed at him admiringly. “I’m impressed.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Hark, is that the sound of O, Suzanna! I hear?”

The notes piercing the air threatened to pierce Abby’s eardrums, as well. “You weren’t kidding. He’s terrible.”

“Actually, I’m becoming quite fond of his playing. I can’t speak for Mrs. Bigfoot, but that harmonica is certainly sending my hormones into overdrive.”

Abby laughed. “They were already there.”

“True.” He held out his hand. “Give me your cup.”

She handed it to him, and he put both cups outside the tent and zipped it closed. “And now, my poor injured bride, I need you to take off your pants. Both pairs.”

“Do you, now?”

“Absolutely. I’m a doctor.”

“Not that kind of doctor.”

“Hey, we’re out in the wilderness, and you obviously need a doctor. Are you going to be choosy?”

She had no idea how they were going to engineer a sexual experience, but with lust raging through her body, she was more than willing to try. “Yes. And I choose you.”