Fire on the Island (3 page)

"Not at
all. I'll just be over here paper pushing if you need anything. I lost the coin
toss today." Callum grinned and winked, as if there were some inside joke
that Jere was supposed to get. Shaking it off, he turned his attention to
exploring.

Finding a gift
shop, Jere browsed for a bit before getting bored and moving on. He popped his
head into the locker room, eyes lingering on the door to the sauna with
longing. "Maybe later, buddy. Gotta do the outdoorsy stuff first," he
told himself. While he didn't consider himself a city slicker by any means, he
was no outdoorsman, and he hadn't had the heart to turn Callum down when the
man had generously offered to throw in a hike at his outdoor company.

Turning left,
Jere found himself in a room that resembled a giant mountain cave. He saw a
tall blonde straining to hold a climbing rope. She turned to smile at him
briefly, her eyes making an appreciative trip from his face to his toes and
back again before turning her attention to what was going on above.

Allowing his
eyes to travel the direction of the rope, he looked up...up...up, until he
finally caught site of a tiny woman suspended from the ceiling. She was in a precarious
position with one foot still on the vertical wall, one hand and the other foot
clinging fast to holds on the ceiling of the cave, and the other hand clipping
her rope into an anchor.

Even knowing
the other woman was spotting her, Jere's heart leapt to his throat as he
imagined her plummeting 30 feet to land flat on her back. The woman, however,
didn't seem to be phased by the danger at all. Hell, she wasn't even breathing
hard—as if defying gravity was somewhere between reading on the couch and having
a cup of tea.

From his
vantage point, Jere couldn't see her face or much detail at all, but what he
could see was magnificent. Long, black curls were doing their best to escape a
waist-length braid that now hung down away from her body as she executed a
horizontal spider crawl across the ceiling. Her skin looked as though it would
have been pale, but was a toasted, golden brown dusted with freckles from the
sun, and it was glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. Well-defined muscles in
her arms and legs bunched and strained from maintaining her handholds, but he
had a feeling she would be soft to the touch.

Get a grip,
man
, Jere told himself,
shaking his head. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when the woman reached
the opposite wall and began to repel down to the floor.

"Thanks,
Amy. I needed that," she said, dusting chalk off her hands and wiping her
face with a hand towel.

"No
problem, Bo—er, Isla."

Jeremiah
watched as the blonde sashayed her way over to him with a seductive bounce in her
step. Feeling like meat on a hook, which made him a bit uncomfortable, he
looked down at his feet and shuffled them a little.

The woman came
to a halt about two feet in front of him and stuck out her hand. "Hello
there! My name's Amy Wyatt. And you are?"

Jere felt the
familiar twin spots of red appear over his cheekbones, disconcerted by the
woman's predatory gaze.

"Dr.
Jeremiah Rousseau, ma'am. I'm here for the hiking tour. I'm a little early, so
Callum said I could look around." There were times when Jeremiah cursed
his smooth Cajun drawl, as it often attracted unwanted attention.

Amy's eyes lit
up and she sidled so close, Jere had to take a step back. "Ooh, a
doctor!" she said excitedly, placing her hand on his arm.

Shifting
uneasily, Jere tried to dispel her misconception. "PhD, ma'am. Not a
medical doctor."

Seemingly
unaffected by that revelation, Amy looked up at him and Jere actually thought
she batted her eyelashes. "Where's that accent from? Too cute. And polite
too!"

The smaller
woman had finished cleaning up and walked up behind Amy. Clapping a hand on
Amy's shoulder, she gently tugged the blonde away from him. "Down girl,
give the man some breathing room. You're sucking all of the oxygen out of the
room."

Amy just
grinned unapologetically and bounced off to collect the equipment.
Unaccountably grateful for the save, Jeremiah raised his eyes to her face to
thank her.

"Thanks,
I—" His words stuttered to a halt when huge jade green eyes looked up at
him from under a thick fringe of bangs, and he felt as if he'd been punched in
the gut. He thought she'd been magnificent while climbing, but up close, she
was breathtaking. Her face was dainty and heart-shaped, with high cheekbones
and full lips, the lower one slightly larger. It was her eyes that struck him,
though—a clear, sparkling green rimmed in thick, black lashes, slightly turned
up at the corners. It was the shadows under them, however, that reached out to
him.

Shaking himself
out of his reverie, Jere cleared his throat and held out his hand. "Jeremiah."
Eloquent, dumbass
. He hadn't been this flustered by a woman since, well,
ever.

That gorgeous
mouth quirking up on one side, she took his hand in a firm grip and shook it.

"Isla
MacAllan. You must be the tenant."

"Huh? Oh,
right. Yes, I'm renting Callum's cottage."

Jeremiah had a
chance to look at her some more while she bent to remove her harness and other
gear. She was short—the top of her head barely came up to his chest—and what
little height she had was mostly legs. While on some women such muscle
definition would make them look masculine, on her it was just unbelievably
sexy.

Isla
straightened and gave him a slightly impatient look. "You're a wee bit
early. I've got to hit the showers and change for the hike. Callum will be back
in the lobby if you want some company."

"Isn't
Callum leading the hike?"

"Nope. He
wanted you to have the best. That'd be me."

"Modesty.
Always a good quality," he said with a wink, inwardly groaning at his lame
comment.

She just raised
an eyebrow, did that half-smile thing, and turned to leave. Jere followed her
out, hoping his tongue wasn't lolling out of his mouth like a happy puppy dog.
He began to wonder how he was going to get through a half-day's hike staring at
the back of her.

Chapter
Four

I
sla drove the Expeditions tour van and its five
passengers to the town of Whiting Bay to find the trailhead for the Glenashdale
Falls. She had originally planned on taking the group to Machrie Moor, which is
a much easier walk, but all of the people in her group were experienced
hikers—with the exception of Dr. Rousseau.

Part of her
wanted to take him there because the falls were magnificent, and she wanted to
show him the best their little island had to offer. Another part of her wanted to
push him because of the way he had affected her. He had gotten under her skin
from the minute she saw him. His embarrassment over Amy's flirting had been
endearing, but when she'd gotten close enough to see him, she couldn't stop
looking.

When Callum had
told her about his new tenant, she had expected a white-haired, professor
type—not tall, tan, and gorgeous back there. The man had sharp chiseled
features that were softened by the mop of sun-streaked, brown hair that was
just a bit too long. His hazel eyes were sparkling and friendly, with laugh
lines crinkling at the corners. But it was his smile that had stunned her. She
had no idea how he managed to look boyish and predatory at the same time, but
somehow he pulled it off. He had sensuous lips that covered a decidedly
wolf-like set of pearly whites, which naturally had Isla thinking back to her
wolfish encounter that morning and brought her back to reality.

No one rattled
her. No one. So if she wanted to push the good doctor a little bit on a
not-exactly-easy hike, who could blame her.
He's a big boy, he can handle
it.
As the devil on her shoulder laughed its head off at that thought, Isla
found a parking spot and began to unload passengers and gear.

The rest of the
group consisted of Ethan and Katie, a pair of honeymooners from North Carolina,
and a father and son duo. Robert and Fletcher were mainlanders on holiday from
Edinburgh.

"Right
then," Isla began when they were all unloaded, "we need to go over
some safety precautions." She motioned for everyone to gather around so
they could hear.

"The most
important rule is to stay with the group. Don't go wandering off alone. It can
be very dangerous if you don't know the terrain. If there's something you want
to stop and look at, just yell up ahead for me and we'll all stop. Got
it?"

She waited
until the five of them nodded before she continued. "This isn't a climb by
any means, but it is a steep trail. Keep well hydrated and signal me if you
need to take a rest."

"Lastly,
remember the hiker's code: 'Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but
footprints.' And don't touch anything that looks poisonous!"

Isla checked
everyone's pack to make sure they had everything they needed and then started
down the side road that led to the trailhead.

When they first
set out, Jeremiah was having trouble concentrating on the scenery—and the
ground he walked on—because he was too busy watching Isla up ahead. She moved
with the same cat-like grace that she had on the climbing wall as she
negotiated the steepening trail. His eyes traveled from her slender ankles to
her shapely calves and thighs then promptly came to rest at her denim cut-off
clad backside.

Jere stumbled
for about the fifth time, so Isla stopped the group and turned to look at him.
Lifting her chin a notch and raising her eyebrow, she said, "Need a break,
Doc? Can't have you tumbling back down. Expeditions frowns upon losing
hikers."

He mumbled that
he was fine to continue and did his best to pay attention to where he was
going. Soon he became so absorbed in the rugged landscape of the forest that he
almost forgot there was anyone with him.

Jeremiah
thought he heard rustling in the brush off to his left. Thinking it could be
some wildlife, he took one step toward it and then another.

"Dr.
Rousseau, stay on the trail please," Isla said firmly without turning her
head.

Did the woman
have eyes in the back of her head or just supersensitive hearing?

"Yes,
ma'am," he drawled when she peeked over her shoulder at him to make sure
he'd heard. It was insane that he had known this woman for less than a day and
already one look from her set his heart racing.

The forest
became thicker with moss-covered birch trees and tufts of fern and the trail
sharply sloped upwards. Jeremiah began to hear the mighty rush of the
waterfall. He also began to notice something strange.

He had glimpsed
a couple of red squirrels that he learned were indigenous to the island. The
squirrels that would normally be darting about and skittering up trees seemed
to be...following the group. Or, more specifically, following Isla. The animals
slinked through the ferns that lined the trails, always keeping about three
feet behind her.

Jeremiah was
interested in the curious squirrel behavior, but he was also starting to breathe
harder from the extra strain of the incline, so he focused back on the trail.

Finally Isla
drew them to a stop in front of a wooden overlook. "We can stop here for a
bit of a rest and some pictures," she said, making a sweeping gesture
toward the valley beyond. There, across the valley, was an enormous waterfall
that came plunging down over a rocky outcrop to the river below. A smoky cloud
of mist rose up from the rushing water, giving the scene an ethereal quality.

The other
hikers gasped and chattered excitedly as they all crowded onto the structure to
get a better look. Jeremiah hung back and stepped up beside Isla, who watched
the group with a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I never
get tired of seeing that," she said so softly Jeremiah wasn't sure she
knew it was aloud.

"Tired of
what?"

"Their
sense of wonder."

"Is that
why you work for Expeditions?"

She turned to
look at him, her mouth twitching. "Something like that."

Jeremiah walked
over to the overlook to look over the railing, giving Isla a chance to study
him. The man was two parts bookish professor with his clumsiness and childlike
interest in everything around him and one part bad boy with his bulky, muscular
physique. He had impossibly wide, well-muscled shoulders that formed a V down
to a trim waist. He was wearing cargo shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt that
showed off his darkly tanned arms.

On his left arm
he had a tattoo of a snake wrapping around his forearm that went halfway up his
bicep, where it coiled around a large bird with flaming wings. Isla had never
been a fan of tattoos, especially with the mystery surrounding hers, but on him
she found it incredibly sexy. Isla found herself quelling the urge to reach out
and trace it with her fingers.

As if sensing
her scrutiny, Jeremiah looked back at her and smiled like a kid in a candy
store, obviously enjoying the waterfall as much as the others. Ignoring the
little flutter in her stomach, Isla cleared her throat. "All right
everyone, time to head back. It's getting late and we don't want to get caught
up here when the storm comes."

Fletcher, a
baby-faced boy who looked about twelve but was probably close to sixteen,
looked at her like she had grown a second head. "What storm? The sky is
crystal clear. What makes you think it's going to storm?"

"I can
smell it," Isla said, only half teasing. "I can always tell when the
weather is going to change. But also, there was a cloud over the summit of Goat
Fell. That almost always means a storm."

As the group
started the descent back down the steep trail, Jeremiah sped up to fall into
step beside Isla. "So what do you do for fun on the island?"

"We have
kayaking, abseiling, rock scrambling, and horseback riding to name a few.
Obviously the most popular activity is hiking. There are dozens of beautiful
walks."

"That's
helpful, but I actually meant what do
you
do for fun?"

"I do all
of those things, for work and pleasure. I'm almost always either at Expeditions
or at home. Expeditions only has four full-time guides, so I keep pretty busy
working."

There was a
note of sadness in her voice, but Jeremiah didn't push. He had a tendency to
come on pretty strong when it came to mysteries. He could tell from the guarded
way Isla spoke that she wouldn't be an easy egg to crack, which only made him
more interested.

When the group
made it back to the trailhead, they were all pretty winded, with the exception
of Isla. The six of them piled back into the van and headed back to
Expeditions. As Isla drove, Jeremiah tried to ignore the honeymooners necking
in the back, and he chuckled when he saw Fletcher trying not to fall asleep
against his dad's shoulder.

They pulled
into the parking lot of Expeditions where all the passengers were unloaded and
all the gear was put away. Jeremiah hung back while the other hikers said their
goodbyes and drove off in their rental cars. Once they were gone, Isla turned
back to go inside and Jeremiah followed. He found her at the front desk,
presumably going over the next day's schedule. She was chewing on the eraser of
her pencil, a line of concentration forming between her brows. He thought she
looked
hauntingly beautiful
and unbearably lonely.

"Come have
a drink with me," he blurted before he thought better of it.

Her head flew
up, her gaze colliding with his, and she looked genuinely surprised.
"Pardon?"

"I'm on
sort of a forced vacation here. My publisher thinks I need to 'clear my head.'
The only other person I know on the island is Callum and”—Jere made a show of
looking around the empty lobby—“he's not here. I could use the company."

She gave him a
sympathetic smile, and he thought her eyes lingered just slightly on his lips,
but he probably imagined it. "I appreciate it, but I don't think that's a
good idea," she said, shaking her head.

Not willing to
give up so easily, Jere leaned on the counter and cocked his head at her.
"Why not?"

"I've
still got some things to finish up here."

"So
tonight then," Jere said, flashing her that toothy grin. "Meet me at
the pub around six?"

She simply
stared at him for a few moments and it looked like she might refuse. But then
she sighed, and gave him a tentative smile that made his heart flip-flop
dangerously.

"Alright,
six it is then," she said.