Wild Men of Alaska Collection - By Helmer, Tiffinie Page 0,68

ready once the ice broke up, Gemma had joined a group of diehards who met one night a week at the Hamme Pool. They paddled and practiced rolls, exercising muscles that wouldn’t get that kind of a workout in a gym.

It was also where she’d first met Cub.

He was an avid river kayaker, famous in these parts. He could probably compete on a world stage if he felt so inclined. But as far as she could tell, his biggest competition was himself.

“Hey, Gemma,” Cub greeted as she climbed out of her Outback Subaru and began unstrapping her neon green river kayak. He made quick work of getting the kayak off the roof of her car. She wasn’t short, more average than tall, but Cub shouted his Viking heritage with Norse god good looks to his big feet and towering six-four foot frame. She’d never believe the man could fit into a whitewater kayak if she hadn’t seen it so herself. And while she plunked, more than slid into her kayak seat, Cub melted into his like butter on toast. There was something admirable about a man who was so comfortable in skin.

“Thanks, Cub.”

He handed her the boat one-handed and picked up his own that he’d set on the ice-packed blacktop in order to give her a hand.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking of that kiss we shared the other day.”

She flicked a look at him from under her lashes, wondering where he was going with this subject. So out of the blue too. They usually discussed technique, certain rivers they wanted to traverse, or the weather, while walking in to the pool to meet the five to seven other people who took advantage of the “evening kayaking.”

“Okay, what about the kiss?”

“I think we should try it again.” Cub stopped, and while he couldn’t really face her with each of them holding a kayak, he did pretty good job of nailing her with a look that had her swallowing a sudden—surprising—kick of curiosity. “I wasn’t really on my game the other night, and I think we should give it another go.”

She hadn’t thought there was anything between them besides common interests and friendship. But, hey, why not. Cub made a lot more sense than her Dreamweaver.

“I’d like that.” She shared a smile with him, and they continued into the building, Cub holding the door open for her.

He was sweet and thoughtful and had a corporeal body. And he wasn’t hard to look at either.

Suddenly she was glad that she hadn’t pushed off tonight since she was so tired. She was also glad she’d downed that Rock Star.

Lucky didn’t feel lucky at all. He’d been talking all damn day, but Gemma, by all accounts, hadn’t heard a peep from him. Similar to the day before, he’d been able to follow her around feeling like an attention-starved puppy, his heart weeping at seeing Tern. Hell, how he’d missed her too.

He missed everything.

He’d mentally salivated watching Gemma partake of each bite of cinnamon roll from the Bun on the Run. He wished there was some way he could experience what she smelled, tasted, felt. Definitely what she felt. How she felt.

Touching her while she dreamt was thrilling, amazing. Sensual on a level that he hadn’t been with a woman before—no shit—but he still missed that human contact. The pressing together of warm flesh, the thrusting of groins, entering the heat of a woman. Entering Gemma.

Holy hell, did he want to enter Gemma.

Should he be saying holy hell? All right, holy heaven. There, that felt somewhat better. Or more appropriate. Listening to Tern and Gemma discussing all the implications of him visiting from another plane, kind of freaked him out too. They didn’t understand that he wasn’t out to harm Gemma. He wanted to give her pleasure. But that wasn’t his only motivation. If one thing death had taught him, it didn’t do any good to lie to one’s self.

Was this a particular hell he’d been sent to because of the free-living lifestyle he’d engaged in while alive?

Too may questions.

For now, he’d learn more about Gemma. Knowledge was power. He was beginning to realize she was his soul mate. She was beautiful, smart, adventurous, and fit. So physically fit.

But who the hell was this guy she was with?

Lucky didn’t like the way she looked at him, staring too long when he tore off his shirt and revealed muscles that even made his mouth drop open.

Gemma stripped down to her sunset-orange bikini. Where the hell was her life