He emerged from the cabin to her right and set a chipped white mug down on the table beside her. The coffee was black, and Ivy preferred hers white, but she was damned if she was going to mention it. Steam rose off it, luring her in with the promise of warmth, and she grabbed it and lifted it to her lips, and breathed in the aroma.
A contented sigh swept through her.
While he lacked milk and manners, he had good taste in coffee, clearly made it using grounds and not instant granules.
She would have thanked him if he hadn’t chosen that moment to speak.
“So, you have your coffee, where’s my proof?” He remained standing, a glowering tower of muscle and menace, his eyes dark and stormy again as he fixed her with a hard look and nursed his own cup of coffee.
Clearly the caffeine hadn’t improved his manners.
She reluctantly set her mug down, rifled through her backpack and found her stash of memory cards. She inserted one in her camera, found it was blank, and tried another, growing increasingly aware of the man where he stood over her, waiting.
“I have proof,” she muttered, sure he was convinced otherwise by now.
Her heart did a flip in her chest when the camera revealed pictures on the card she had inserted, and she quickly flicked through them, her hands shaking as she hunted for the ones she had taken last fall. There were a lot of eagles, and some deer, and other animals, but no bears. Damn it. She wiped the back of her hand across her brow, clearing the sweat gathering on it as she stewed under his fierce scrutiny, and kept skimming through the photographs.
Relief crashed over her when she found the shots, and she looked up the height of him, into eyes that were definitely more gold than grey now. “No stealing my camera.”
He arched an eyebrow at that, and how fiercely she clutched it to her, and even sighed as she placed the strap back around her neck so he couldn’t easily grab it off her.
Of course, she hadn’t considered something important when she had chosen to protect her camera by placing the strap around her neck.
The fact he would have to get close to her to see the pictures on the screen.
When he hunkered down beside her, his big body crowding her and making her feel small despite her generous curves, and his masculine earthy scent and heat flowing over her, she swallowed hard and did her damnedest to ignore the way it lit her up inside, warmed her better than any fire could have.
He prodded the screen. “That’s a grizzly.”
Duh.
The huge brown bear was unmistakable with its long nose and hump on its back above its front legs.
“I took it around a hundred miles from here last fall. It’s part of a series I’m shooting about Canadian bears.” She wiped the smudge from his finger from the screen, trying not to huff as she did it, using it as something to focus on other than how near he was to her and the way her blood was turning to molten fire in her veins, burning hotter the longer he remained hunkered down beside her.
She flicked to the next picture, and then the next, until he had seen all of them and she was sure he would move away again.
She lifted her eyes at the same time as he did and stilled as they locked, that heat rolling through her rapidly reaching boiling point.
Hell, he was closer than she had realised, so close she could pick out flecks of gold and blue against the stony grey in his irises and that the dark stubble coating his square jaw concealed a slight dip in the centre of his chin.
He stared at her, his pupils slowly dilating, a hint of blue-green emerging around them as they devoured the grey. The tension in the air thickened, the heat like an inferno now as she lost herself in his eyes, couldn’t shake herself out of whatever trance he had placed her in.
Or maybe it was a trance that had come over them both, because he shook his head and a flicker of a frown caused his eyebrows to dip, and then he eased back on his haunches.
He cleared his throat and the banked heat in his eyes was devoured by a glacial abyss. “That proves nothing. Hunters often take pictures during recon missions to new areas, so their friends can see proof there are bears.”
Good grief, he had to be the least trusting person she had ever met. It was infuriating.
“Well, it’s all I have. My laptop is back in my Jeep and even then I could only show you more pictures and some official documents, and I’m guessing you want to see something like my website or awards or maybe my damned passport and a certificate that states in big letters that I’m not a hunter!”
Her outburst didn’t even make him flinch.
He just regarded her coolly for a few seconds before pushing onto his feet, setting his mug down beside hers, and striding back into his cabin.
What the hell was he up to now?
She snagged her coffee and sipped it, trying to get her nerves back under control as her heart jittered around in her chest. He was being unreasonable. She had given him all the proof she could. When he came back, she was just going to ask him whether or not he was going to let her stay on his land to photograph the bears.
She set her mug back down and focused on switching the memory cards in her camera again, and looked at the pictures she had taken.
Including a shot of him.
Hell, he fitted right into his wild surroundings, as rugged as the mountains and alluring as the big cats that roamed them.
The man emerged from the cabin again, and she switched off her camera and opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again, her eyebrows drawing down as she spotted the silver laptop he carried. He leaned against the railing that ran around the deck, his back to the valley, opened the computer and looked down at the screen as it lit up, holding the laptop in his left hand, resting against his thighs.
The light from it made his eyes look blue again, and she found herself staring up at them, wondering how they changed depending on the light or the angle she was at to him. She had never noticed anyone else’s eyes do that. Maybe it was the flecks of colours in them catching the light, creating the illusion they had changed colour.
Her eyebrows rose.
Did her eyes change like his?
Hers were hazel, flecked with gold. Maybe they appeared more gold at times to people.
His gaze shifted to her, he twisted the laptop towards her and jerked his chin. “Show me this website of yours.”
She took the laptop, shifted her camera to one side so it didn’t get in the way, and settled it on her lap. In the corner of the screen, the computer showed a strong internet connection. Not surprising, although it probably would have shocked most people. She hadn’t missed the row of solar panels he had peeking out from beneath the trees to her right. If he was generating his own electricity, it stood to reason he had a few modern conveniences like satellite internet.
She typed in the address of her website and handed the computer back to him, her gaze drifting to the river as he took it from her. She wanted to be there, with her camera poised, waiting for a bear to show up. The sun was creeping higher now, and the mist was growing thinner. It would be gone before long, and so would the opportunity to get the picture she had envisaged.
“Ivy Wentworth,” he drawled, voice so smooth and deep that warmth curled through her in response, and she had to shake her head to push out that image of him stalking towards her through the mist, his eyes locked on her, intense and focused.
“That’s me.” She swallowed to wet her dry throat, reminded herself that she wasn’t looking for a man, had been burned one time too many, and lifted her eyes from the river to him.
He glanced at her, and then frowned back at the screen, tapping the tracking pad. He was silent for so long that she had half a mind to ask whether she could at least go back to the river and look for bears while he pored over her life’s work.
He finally huffed, snapped the laptop closed and regarded her with a cool gaze that gave nothing away.
“Satisfied now?” She tipped her chin up and held his gaze, refusing to let him fluster her as he stared at her in silence.
He hiked his wide shoulders. “You seem legit… and not a hunter.”
The dark way he said that left her feeling it was a good thing for her, that he was being positively polite compared with how he would have been treating her if she had turned out to be a hunter.
“So am I still being kicked off your land?” Land she wasn’t sure he owned or had any right to kick her off of anyway.
He placed the laptop down on the other chair, resumed his position against the railing, resting his backside against it, and held his right hand out to her.
“I want to see the pictures you took today.”
Ivy held back her sigh, switched her camera on again, and angled it towards him. He stooped beside her, that heat curling around her again, making it difficult to focus on the fact he had been nothing but a bastard to her. She’d had her fair share of bastards and was done with them. Yasmin was right about the fact they didn’t deserve her.
She flicked through the pictures, frowned at him when he tried to touch the screen again and moved it away from him, fielding a black look from him that lasted only a second before he looked back down at the screen.
And his entire face darkened.
“Delete that.” His voice was a low growl in her ear.
She looked down at the photograph. One of him. Clearly he didn’t like being photographed. She shifted her thumb to the delete button and paused with it hovering over it, her eyes on the screen and the image of him emerging from the mist. Damn, he had looked magnificent.
It was a shame he had turned out to be as growly as the grizzlies in these parts.
He pressed her thumb down on the button, and she scowled at him for taking the decision out of her hands. When he saw there were other pictures of him, he seized the camera and tugged it towards him, and glared at it as he deleted them.
Every single one of them.
Erasing himself from history?
Maybe the solitude had gone to his head and he had gone a little crazy.
A chill swept down her spine.
Or maybe there was a reason he was hiding out here in the wilderness and got jumpy when a stranger strolled onto his perceived property.
She slowly, cautiously took the camera from him, and he rose back onto his feet to tower over her, a six-six wall that looked just as formidable now as he had when he had been dragging her along the riverbank.
Her heart pounded as their eyes met, heat blooming unbidden in her blood as his narrowed on hers and darkened with something she couldn’t call anger this time.
She wanted to look away, but held his gaze, breathed through the strange surge of sensation that went through her and focused on the reason she was here, using it to shut down the unruly part of herself that kept responding to him in a highly inappropriate, and unsettling, way.
“So are there bears here?” Her voice sounded small, fragile, weak in her ears.
He nodded and averted his eyes, fixing them on the river to his right. She had the damnedest feeling he was avoiding her.
Maybe he had been burned too.
Maybe that was the reason he was out here, alone in the middle of nowhere.
“Can I wait and see if I can get a picture of them? Just a few shots. That’s all I need.”
His stony eyes landed on her again. “No. I want you gone now.”
Damn him. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight, not now she knew there were bears here.
“Fine, I’ll go further up the valley.”
He met those words with a black look and bit out, “No, you won’t. It’s dangerous beyond this point.”
“Do you own that land too?” She felt sure she was getting somewhere now, used the tiny sliver of compassion and concern he had revealed to her to her advantage. When he shook his head, she shrugged. “So you have no way of stopping me going up that way. I’ll be off your land.”
He folded his thick arms across his broad chest and glared down at her, his jaw muscles popping beneath his dark scruff. He had done enough intimidating her for one day. She was done with it.
“I either go up the valley or photograph the bears here. Your choice.” She bit back her smile when his expression darkened further and he looked as if he was chewing on a wasp.
“I can’t let you go up the valley.” His grey eyes looked more gold again as he stared into hers, his pupils dilating to darken them. “You can stay here for the morning, but I want you gone in the afternoon.”
She smiled up at him. Score another one for her.
He looked away from her, frowning at the river, and when his eyes slid back to her, they were definitely more gold than grey, sent a shiver through her as they met hers and had that banked heat threatening to burst into wildfire as he spoke, his deep voice rolling over her, through her, lighting her up in a dangerous way.
“But I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
