LOST WITH YOU - Lisa Ann Verge Page 0,20
the fabric, and it wasn’t because of the pleasant chill in the water. His gaze was thorough and spoke of banked hunger, and her whole body smiled in delicious welcome. She didn’t let that smile reach her lips, though, because that would be an invitation, and she wasn’t ready for that. Instead, she bent her head and twisted her hair into a wet rope, ignoring the heat of his perusal. After last night’s conversation, they had tacitly agreed on the issue of no relationship or emotional commitments. No longer was she facing the danger that he might want more from her than just a sizzling sexual fling. Still, three weeks was too long for a casual affair, one that she couldn’t walk away from at will.
“You said you’ve never ventured much farther than this cove.” She sank up to her neck, feathering her hands through the water. “So what might be ahead?”
He grunted. “There be dragons.”
“Do you mean dragon petroglyphs?” Were there dragons in Iroquois legends? She’d have to look that up.
“No.” He hiked his hands on his hips and glanced up at the trees for no reason she could discern. “It’s a phrase an ancient cartographer would use in the margins of an old map to suggest uncharted territory.”
“Ah.”
“The first hurdle,” Dylan said, “is to find Owl’s Head Rock. It’ll be somewhere along the banks of this river.” Dylan waded deeper into the cove, water rising above the little bump of an outie navel she twitched to run her tongue over.
“Pops says you can’t miss it,” he said. “You can see it right from the river, stark against the sky.”
“How many years has it been since he’s taken these trips?”
“Just shy of eighty, I’d say.” He ducked so he, like she, was visible only from the neck up. “He gave me the impression the landmark was an obvious outcropping of stone. So it shouldn’t be obscured by trees, even after a century.”
“No contemporary hiker or backpacker has ever mentioned this landmark? Do you have any proof of it other than the old map of the French fur-trading route?”
“There’s an Owls Head Mountain, but it’s nowhere near this route. I haven’t found any other mention, contemporary or historical.” He sent up a spray of water with a flick of a hand. “Not a lot of kayakers or canoers venture this deep into the Adirondacks, and even fewer note how rock formations look against the sky.”
He sank to his chin in the water. The banks of the cove cut sharply deep, and she saw the ripples from the sweep of his arms as he treaded water.
“Finding Owl’s Head Rock is key,” he said. “It’ll lead us to the approximate area of the first portage.”
“Ah, portages. That’s when we shift from Olympic paddling to world-class weight lifting, right?” She dug her toes into the gummy bottom. “How many miles do we have to haul our gear for these portages?”
“It’ll vary.” He shrugged, one slick deltoid rising above the water. “Pops wasn’t clear on any of that. Probably because, as a boy, he didn’t have to carry much. The adults lugged the canoe and the whiskey from one stream to another. Pops just tagged along as a scout for the feds.”
“You’ll really be wishing your friend Garrick was here then.”
“Garrick would be complaining about the mosquitoes and sneaking glimpses at his cell phone.” Dylan raised a brow at her. “You haven’t complained once.”
“Yet.”
The brow lifted higher.
“The dining options could be better.” She bobbed toward him, a little deeper, the eddies of the river’s current curling around her legs. “I wouldn’t say no to a salad or a piece of fruit.”
“I’ll talk to the maître d’.”
“You do that.” She laughed. “But despite the food, I have to admit…it’s nice here under an open sky.”
“Better than living in a van?”
The muscles of her neck tightened. Why did he have to do that? The water was warm, the dappled sun gentle, and the buoyant effect of a long soak was just starting to unwind her. Then he went and ruined a perfectly pleasant, neutral conversation by probing where he shouldn’t.
“Same portability,” she said, her voice tight. “Same sense that home is wherever I lay my head.” She turned back to the bank, determined not to get caught up in confessions.
“Hey.”
He’d followed her into shallower water. His voice came from a few feet behind. She swiveled a heel in the mud to shoot him a warning glare. He was naked but for the swim trunks, hanging so