Nobody does it better, p.1
Nobody Does It Better, page 1
“You…haven’t even asked why someone would want to kill me.”
Jared’s gaze moved over her face, lit briefly on her bandaged arm and met her eyes with renewed grimness. “Doesn’t matter why, just that someone’s trying.”
She didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.
“I know that arm is hurting like hell. I’ll do what I can to help you, but we’ve got to keep going. The best way to conserve your energy is to use the ‘rest step.’”
Hope rolled her eyes. “I can’t move fast, walking like Frankenstein’s monster.”
“Yeah? Well, pretend the villagers are right on your butt and the sniper’s carrying the lead torch.”
She suppressed a shudder. “I’d rather just focus on your butt, if you don’t mind. I’ve always thought you had a tush worth following.” She tried for a cocky grin and failed miserably.
“Aw, hell.” He scowled and a steely arm circled her waist. “I’d die before I let him hurt you,” Jared said gruffly. Then he kissed her.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jan Freed is proud to write in a genre that presents a “hopeful view of life without diminishing its hardships.” She loves the great outdoors and describes herself as an urban camper. “I enjoy hiking and don’t mind a little dirt and sweat—as long as there’s a hot shower waiting for me at the end of the day.” Her attitude led to the creation of a tough executive heroine wrenched out of her preferred environment and forced to focus on elemental issues. “Spending time in the wilderness tends to make us step back and get our priorities straight I had fun opening my workaholic heroine’s eyes and placing the Boy Scout/bad-boy hero smack-dab in her line of vision.”
Jan lives in Texas with her husband and two children. She loves to hear from readers and invites you to write her at: P.O. Box 5009-572, Sugar Land, Texas, 77487.
Books by Jan Freed
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
645—TOO MANY BOSSES
676—THE TEXAS WAY
713-MY FAIR GENTLEMAN
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NOBODY DOES IT BETTER
Jan Freed
To Philip and Phyllis Freed,
who opened their hearts and let me in.
Every daughter-in-law should be so lucky!
CHAPTER ONE
HOPE MANNING slouched in her back row seat and undressed Jared Austin with her eyes.
Not completely, of course. That was a man’s sophomoric trick. She’d fine-tuned the technique to suit her own purpose. Lechery was not involved.
The key to her satisfaction hinged on picturing a man’s clothes replaced with…inventive substitutes. Black kneesocks and a red Speedo swimsuit, for example. Or high-heeled gold mules and a pink feather boa. Many an investment shark had lost the teeth to intimidate her after such a poignant Kodak moment.
Smirking for the first time in hours, she visualized the speaker up front wearing black cotton and red spandex. Her spine slowly straightened.
She’d forgotten about Texan men. Forgotten that daily outdoor labor beat the Armani pants off hailing cabs as a muscle-toning exercise. And this particular man had spent years working out in his Big Bend wilderness gym. Hoo-boy.
She should’ve gone with the high-heeled mules and pink feather boa.
“Some of you have traveled thousands of miles to take our Wilderness Leadeship course,” Jared was saying. “I can guarantee that you’re in for the challenge of a lifetime…”
Yeah-yeah-yeah, Hope thought, ignoring his welcoming speech to look him over with his clothes intact.
The founder of MindBend Adventures stood in a relaxed pose, one hand thrust deep into his khaki shorts pocket, the other pressing a clipboard against his matching camp shirt. Sandy brown hair worn shaggy over the collar, gold wire-rimmed glasses and dun-colored hiking boots completed the unassuming portrait. Nice-looking, in a nerdy sort of way. Nothing to blow her skirt up. About an olive’s worth of description over martinis with Debbie Stone—if Hope ever spoke to her vice president again.
Debbie’s blackmailing threat to resign would be hard to forgive.
Hope’s narrowed gaze refocused on Jared. The man’s body was good, she conceded. Not an ounce of fat on him that she could see. Sniffing, she tugged her linen vest over the five extra pounds super-glued to her hips. Clothes could hide a lot of body flaws. Any thirty-five-year-old woman worth her weight knew that.
Inner flaws could be hidden, too. She stared at Jared’s glasses, trying to penetrate the reflection of overhead fluorescent light. No clues there.
But he smiled too often to be trusted. And those teeth, startling white against his deeply tanned skin, had to be capped. Mr. Natural Man was a hypocrite, she decided. Worse, he was keeping her away from Manning Enterprises, the venture-capital company she’d nurtured from obscurity to Wall Street Journal recognition. That made him fair game.
An idea germinated and took root. She was a pro at harassing men. Maybe if she baited this guy into losing his cool, he’d expel her from the course and send her home. Yeah, that was the ticket. And if it didn’t work, if he withstood her needling the entire two weeks, at least she would’ve had some fun. The question was, what to target first?
In a New York City boardroom his Boy Scout getup would’ve been the perfect bull’s-eye. But in West Texas…
Casting a hesitant glance out the classroom windows, she shuddered. In the godforsaken Chihuahuan desert he’d blend in like a dropped contact lens. She might be wise to learn his weaknesses before shooting off her mouth.
“Hope Manning,” a baritone voice boomed.
Her gaze jerked guiltily to the front.
“Hope Manning?” Jared repeated, looking up from his clipboard and scanning the first three rows. She sat by herself in the fifth.
Roll call. Of course. She lifted her hand and wiggled sheepish fingers.
His glasses flashed her way. “In the one-hundredplus expeditions I’ve led, Hope, can you guess what caused the few student injuries on record?”
A pop quiz already? Twenty faces spanning a diverse range in age focused on her blank expression. She blinked.
“Inattention,” Jared said meaningfully.
Twenty faces grinned as her cheeks grew hot. Examining one red-lacquered fingernail, she notched her arrow.
“If you want all eyes on the trail, Scout, I’d nix the shorts,” she drawled, her native Texan accent rusty from disuse. “Your legs could sell Speedo swimsuits in the desert.”
She peeked up through her lashes.
Jared’s wire-rimmed glasses angled a bit, reflecting the room’s rectangular windowpanes now. “In desert brush country we’ll all be wearing pants. And even if we weren’t, I doubt you’d notice my legs after carrying a thirty-five-pound backpack in ninetydegree heat for hours.”
She flapped a dismissive hand. “Don’t be so modest. Besides, I haven’t even seen your tush yet. I’m sure it’s worth a few stumbles over cactus.” Twirling her index finger, she cocked her head. “Turn around and give us a peek.”
Sensing a collective indrawn breath, she waited for the explosion.
He carefully removed his glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket, then passed his clipboard to a plump blond woman sitting in the first row.
The man who looked up had heavy-lidded dark blue eyes and a vaguely familiar sneer. Flipping up the collar of his shirt with both hands, he smoothed back an imaginary pompadour with one palm and executed a lazy turn and straddle. His bump and grind, complete with whirling arm, was vintage Elvis Presley.
The group howled in appreciation.
Hope smothered her own startled laugh. She wouldn’t underestimate the man—or his tush—again. Those khaki-covered buns of steel were worthy of a whole martini’s description. Maybe two. Debbie, a second-generation Elvis groupie, would’ve swallowed her olive whole just watching this guy in action.
After a final pelvis thrust, Jared turned back around and curled his upper lip. “Thankyouverymuch.”
Hope waited for the chuckles to fade, then inclined her head in tribute. “Definitely worth a few stumbles, Scout. I can see I’ll have to watch my step around you.”
His gaze sharpened, as piercing as any she’d met across a boardroom table. “Why are you here, Hope? What motivated you to join a MindBend Adventures expedition?”
Hoo-boy. “My…friend saw a feature story about your company on ‘Good Morning America.’ She was impressed with the executives who raved about their expedition experiences. She…suggested I take one of your Wilderness Leadership courses.”
A hiatus, Debbie had called it, threatening to resign from Manning Enterprises unless Hope cooperated. She was not to come back until she’d completed the expedition and “chilled out.” In the Texas desert, for heaven’s sake!
“That’s flattering,” Jared said. “But what impressed you about our expeditions?”
The fact that people paid good money to join them, for starters. “The chance to get away from the office grind, for one thing. Plus the opportunity to meditate in one of the last unspoiled environments in the nation.”
He seemed to want more.
“And, of course, I hope to make lifelong friends and grow as a person,” she added.
His lips twitched once and stilled.
Corporate burnout?
He leaned over and retrieved his clipboard from the matronly blonde in the first row. “Thank you…Karen, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Karen Kent.” She sounded surprised and flattered, as if her name tag hadn’t been right in his face.
Jared put his glasses back on and smiled. “Why don’t you tell us what you hope to get out of your experience, Karen?”
“We-ell. My husband and two sons love to camp in the summer, but I’ve never been very good at it, so I’ve always stayed at home.”
Corporate burnout? A victim? Hope crossed her legs and bobbed her platform sandal hard enough to drive in nails.
“But I feel so left out,” Karen admitted in a small voice. “And your catalog said you teach outdoor skills and wilderness self-sufficiency. Since the kids are visiting their grandparents for three weeks, Jim thought this would be a good time for me to join an expedition.”
“Your family must be proud of you.”
I’m a victim of blackmail, dammit, not burnout! Hope fumed.
Karen didn’t answer.
“Excuse me,” Hope said loudly, capturing Jared’s startled attention. Weeks of simmering resentment boiled to the surface. “I’ll have you know I am not burned out. In fact, I love my job. I need stress in my life. Oh, I agree that not everybody’s cut out for fourteen-hour workdays and pressure-cooker negotiations, but I happen to operate best under those conditions. And if I demand a lot from my employees, it’s because I know they can meet my high standards. It is not because I am stressed out, maxed out or any of the other pat labels psychoanalysts stick on ambitious hardworking executives. I am sick to death of people making that assumption, and I resent the implication that peeing behind a rock or chanting under the moon is going to change me into a better per—”
A shrill bell cut off her tirade. She closed her mouth and looked around in dawning horror. Had that been her voice escalating in volume, ranting against a situation these people knew nothing about?
Twenty faces ranging in expression from shocked to morbidly fascinated told her it had been.
Jared broke the uneasy silence. “Sorry about the interruption. When MindBend Adventures took over this old elementary school we left the bell system in place. It keeps us on schedule, but it takes a while to get used to.” Studying Hope as if she were an Xray revealing terminal cancer, he added, “Why don’t you take a deep long breath through your nose and count to five?”
Why don’t you wipe that supercilious concern off your face? “I’m fine.”
“Changing one’s breathing pattern can bring instant stress relief for many people.”
“I’m not stressed,” she said through clenched teeth.
“No?” His gaze mocked her denial, then swept the entire group. “This seems like an appropriate time to teach you a quick body-stress checkup. Starting at the top your head, I want you to scan your scalp, forehead and cheeks for muscle tension. Are you frowning? Are you grinding your teeth?”
Hope hastily relaxed her brows and jaw.
“Now try rolling your neck and shoulders.” He demonstrated the technique, his obedient students following suit.
Eyeing them suspiciously, Hope tilted her head, lifted her shoulders—and winced at a sharp stab of pain.
“Do you notice any tightness or discomfort?” Jared asked, sending her a knowing look.
She glared back, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Check your breathing now. Is it fast and shallow, rather than regular and deep? What about your legs and toes? Do you feel any muscle tension or nervous spasms?”
Hope stopped bobbing her foot, lifted a hand and massaged the headache beginning to pulse at her temples. Her cool fingers brought instant relief.
“Finally, I want you to check the temperature of your hands. Are they abnormally cold? If your fingers are cooler than your neck, they probably are.”
Refusing to fondle her neck or meet Jared’s eyes, she lowered her arm and sat very still.
“If you exhibited one or more of the symptoms I described, chances are your body is stressed. Throughout the first few days of this course you’ll be learning how to reduce body stress, as well as how to survive in the wilderness—equally useful skills, I assure you. Now then, Hope, did you want to add anything to your earlier comments before we continue with roll call?”
And dig her grave deeper? “No thanks. I’ll let Carol take back the floor.”
His gaze cooled noticeably, moved to the rumpled blonde and warmed back up to room temperature. “How about you, Karen? Is there anything you’d like to add to your reasons for joining a MindBend expedition?”
Karen?
The woman ducked her head and mumbled, “Not really.”
Karen, Carol—pretty damn close, if you asked Hope.
“Okay, let’s get back on track.” Jared referred to his clipboard again. “Bill Harper?”
“Here.”
“Hank Thompson.”
“Here.”
Hope tuned out the remaining names, knowing she wouldn’t remember them, anyway. While she never forgot a mathematical equation, people were another matter. Her analyst said she feared intimacy and the chance of rejection. Hope had her own theory. She simply didn’t clutter her mind with unimportant details.
Roll call completed, Jared lowered his clipboard. Several people shifted in their chairs. “Why don’t we take a short break? Rest rooms are on the right, vending machines on the left. Meet back here in ten minutes, and we’ll go through some last orientation items.”
Chairs scraped against linoleum. Chatter broke out as students turned to their neighbors with idle comments and headed for the door.
Uncrossing her leg, Hope stood and smoothed her oatmeal linen slacks, trying not to notice how many eyes avoided hers. So she wouldn’t get voted most popular. Big deal. Once the UroTech sale went through, she’d have friends crawling from under every rock. All the world loved a millionaire.
“May I speak with you a minute, Hope?”
She turned and watched Jared close the gap between them. “Do I have a choice?”
He stopped at the end of her row. “Always. In everything.”
The man was really getting on her nerves. “Your disciples are gone now,” she said dryly. “You can drop the wise-guru act.”
“All right, I’ll be blunt. Are you certain you’ve given enough thought to joining a MindBend Adventures expedition? It really shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
She bumped past folding metal chairs and stood platform sandals to hiking boots, her head tilted back to accommodate his irritating height. “Just how should your little adventure be taken, Scout?”
“Not as a vacation. Not as therapy, either.”
“Excuse me?”
“I just want to make sure you understand what the course entails. You were right that you’ll have a chance to enjoy unspoiled nature. But it won’t be any picnic. We won’t cook for you, set up your tent or carry your gear. You’ll do all that for yourself. The trail is strenuous, the heat is hellish, and your fellow students may not always be agreeable. You’ll have to cope with that, too. Most importantly, you’ll have to put the welfare of the group before your own.”
He didn’t think she could hack it. His expression clearly said so. “Are you telling me to quit now and go home?” Perversely, she was outraged.
“I’m telling you what to expect. I’m asking you to think carefully about your decision. If you’re not up to the physical and mental demands of the expedition, you’ll be a hazard to yourself and the group and I’ll have to ask you to leave. There’s no shame in changing your mind now. The company will refund your money, and you can hitch a ride to Alpine this afternoon on the grocery run.”
It was one thing to harass the teacher with the vague idea of getting expelled, quite another to actually get expelled—and before school had even started! “I don’t want a refund, thankyouverymuch.”
