The Player - By Rhonda Nelson Page 0,12

But that was a whole other problem she’d simply have to think about later, she decided, channeling a little Scarlet O’Hara.

Right now, she was finding it hard enough to regulate her breathing, much less anything else. She was too distracted by the disturbingly masculine line of his jaw, those sleepy hazel eyes which managed to be both wise and wicked and that shock of adorably curly brown hair.

He was clearly an alpha—from the jut of that jaw to the swagger in his step, everything about him screamed merited confidence—but that hair softened him up, made him approachable and gave him a beta boy-next-door quality that mysteriously added to his overall sex appeal. Audrey felt a smile tug at her lips. No doubt he could make an orchid bloom in an arctic winter or charm the habit right off a nun if the mood struck…then convince her it was her idea.

And she’d bet he didn’t scream like a girl when he came, either.

Mercy.

Jamie paused next to what was clearly a rental sedan. “Do I drive up to the cottage?” he asked.

Audrey shook her head and indicated an area to the side of the office. “Up there will be fine. If you’d like to leave your bags with me, I’ll wait here while you park.”

“Bag.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You said ‘bags.’” An interesting display of muscle action rippled across his back as he reached into the back seat, pulled out a small duffel and, wearing a lazy smile, handed it to her. “It’s bag. Singular.”

Audrey chewed the corner of her lip, eying the duffel skeptically. “You have almost a week’s worth of clothes in this bag?”

“With a couple of changes to spare.”

She chuckled and inclined her head. He certainly had the art of packing light down to a science. Of course, given his military training she supposed that was habit as much as necessity. The more they packed, the more they had to carry. Too bad that some of the other people who came here didn’t have that same mentality. If they had to schlep their weighty Louis Vuitton everywhere themselves, they might rethink packing everything but the kitchen sink.

Feeling herself intrigued beyond what she knew to be prudent, Audrey waited while Jamie moved the car. He made quick work of it, locked up, then loped with easy grace back down to where she stood and took the bag. “All right, then,” he said, casually taking in their surroundings. “Where to?”

Audrey set off and pointed toward the lake. “Right down there.”

“This is a beautiful place,” Jamie remarked, seemingly enjoying the fall landscape. Tall trees dressed in their finest foliage soared overhead and painted a mirror image on the lake’s rippling surface. New England asters bloomed in a purple perfusion of color along the various winding stone paths throughout camp and a couple of bickering squirrels squabbled over acorns. Stark white steep-roofed cottages were tucked along the lake and deep into the tree line, giving the impression of an old Colonial village.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m proud of it. It was in pretty bad shape when I first bought it. Beautiful land, of course.” She slid him a glance. “It’s not called Lake Bliss for nothing. But the buildings and landscaping were all in need of serious repair.”

“How long have you been in business?”

“This is our fourth season.”

“Season?”

“We don’t operate year-round,” she explained. “The winters are too intense and frankly, we don’t have enough business to merit being open beyond Christmas. We run camps March through November.”

Jamie nodded. “So what do you do those other months? Hunker down here?” He glanced around. “I’m assuming you live on site.”

“I do,” Audrey confirmed with a smile. She gestured toward her own place, a slightly larger variation of the guest cottages. “I usually spend a month recuperating, a month vegging out and another month traveling and visiting family. In February, we’re gearing up toward a new season, so even though we aren’t technically open, we’re here getting things in order.”

He smiled and she felt that grin all the way down to her little toes. “Sounds like you’ve got things down to a science.”

Audrey chuckled, shoving her hair away from her face. “Not really,” she said. “But we’ve found a system that seems to be working for us.” She mounted the steps to his cottage. “Ah. Here we are.”

Jamie inserted the key into the lock and let himself in.

“It’s fully stocked,” Audrey told him, stepping in behind him. Which was quite nice because she got a wonderful view of his delectable