Page 3 of Some Like It Hot

He waggled his finger at her, and she sauntered over to the dance floor, put her arms around his neck. “I love this song.”

And probably she was telling the truth because the tiny Alaskan town of Copper Mountain had the sum of one decent bar and grill, and he had no doubt she’d spun on this dance floor a few times.

A girl with her long, white-blonde hair and laughter certainly couldn’t have been hard up for attention with all the wildlife around here.

A couple of his cronies joined them on the dance floor, and he spotted a man—some tourist with blond hair cut behind his ears—saunter over to Skye’s table with intentions on his face. And okay, maybe Riley had a little Tucker in him because he tried not to, but did size the guy up, watching as he talked to Skye.

Let his breath out just a smidgen when another guy dragged him away from her booth and out the door.

Romeo took his place, reaching for her chili fries, and Riley let it go. She was safe with the rookie.

“Dancing Queen” had come on, and he felt a little silly, so he took Larke’s hand and dragged her back to the bar. He noticed his guys leaving and glanced at her.

“We can take my bike home,” she said, winking.

He had to like a girl who drove a motorcycle.

“You sure you don’t want me to look at that shoulder? You’re favoring it.”

He was?

“I was a medic in the army. I can spot an injured soldier who’s trying to be tough.”

“I—” He made a face. “I fell on it a couple days ago, and I think I might have knocked it out of joint.”

“C’mon. Let’s go back to the ranch and we’ll get some ice on it.”

He stepped in closer. “Or, heat?”

She laughed, pressed a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “Heat is only going to inflame it. It might make it feel better, but it’ll only make it worse.”

Indeed.

He really didn’t want to care.

But, as she took his hand and led him from the bar to the parking lot, as she kicked her bike free, handed him an extra helmet, and climbed on the bike, he couldn’t escape the idea that she was right.

No matter how good it might make him feel, the heat would probably only make it worse.

He settled his hands on her hips, holding on as she motored him into the burning sunset.

* * *

Apparently,tonight was not the night Larke turned the page, put the demons in the past, and became the girl who lived in the moment.

But her plan was doomed from the start. Who knew what she was thinking really? She’d never been the type to zero in on a man and decide to hand herself over into his arms.

Although if ever she wanted to hold onto someone, just long enough to forget, it would be Riley McCord with his soft brown eyes, tousled golden brown hair, matching ten-day beard growth long enough to run her fingertips through. He wore the build of a man used to hard work—broad, ropy shoulders, lean, strong legs, and forearms threaded with muscle. Okay, yes, she’d noticed him when he’d unloaded gear that first day he’d arrived at Sky King ranch.

Watched the way he joked with his buddies, and it stirred inside her a flicker of forbidden interest.

He was Lt. Freeman Stone all over again. And maybe that was the problem.

No, it was definitely the problem, because she clearly had a type.

Confirmed by the way Riley dove into a fight even before it started. She’d stood there, watching, blinking back memories, and doing an adequate job of actingjust fineuntil he had to mention war wounds.

Her face must have betrayed a momentary panic. Right then he’d frowned, as if seeing past her smile, her flirting, right down to her core.