Holly and Rafe exchanged quick glances. “We were just watching a movie on TV,” Holly said smoothly and introduced herself to Ashlinn.
“I guess you’re wondering why we’re here,” Flint spoke up. “Ashlinn wanted to know if Camryn and Kaylin could come along on the Paradise Outdoors camping expedition, the one Carmody set up before his skateboard accident.”
Rafe gaped, dumbfounded. “You want them to join you and your girlfriend on. . .”
“She is not my girlfriend!” Flint said vehemently, lifting his hand from Ashlinn’s shoulder as if he’d been scalded. He immediately moved to stand apart from her.
Ashlinn tried to ignore her discomfort. “Can the girls come along?”
“Did you know that Camryn and her friends taught Sam Carmody how to skateboard?” Rafe frowned pensively. “We didn’t like him hanging around with high-school kids and told her to stay away from him. Whether or not she listened is a. . .”
“The girls both have their jobs at the mall,” Holly inserted. “They really can’t leave on such short notice, Flint.”
“So you two are going camping together?” Rafe arched his brows, his expression speculative as he studied Flint and Ashlinn. “Should be an interesting trip. Will you be sharing a tent?” he added, his eyes gleaming, unable to hold back from a little brotherly ribbing.
“It wasn’t planned, it just worked out that way” Flint was immediately defensive. A flush stained his cheeks, turning his skin a deep golden bronze. “This is ridiculous” He snatched Ashlinn’s hand and pushed open the front door. “We’re out of here, right now!” He left the house, dragging Ashlinn along with him.
They got into the car and sped away from the house.
“It wasn’t planned, it just worked out that way?” Ashlinn repeated. Her heart began to pound, fast and loud. “Does that mean I’m actually supposed to share a tent with you?”
“You look panicked at the thought. Fearing for your virtue? Have you bought into Camryn’s evil twin accusations?”
“I’m not panicked and I don’t think you’re evil, but I’m not sharing a tent with you or anyone else. I want my own tent! Since Tour & Travel is paying the expenses, just bill them for an extra tent. Because I will not. . .”
“Relax. I don’t want to share a tent with you either. Asher Carey and I were assigned to share one, but Ms. Ashlinn Carey is definitely getting her own. The extra cost can come out of Junior’s lunch money.”
“You were only joking.” Ashlinn tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her hand was trembling. “I knew that.”
“No, you didn’t.” He was clearly relishing her overreaction. “And I warned you the Paradise clan wasn’t one big happy extended family like yours, but you insisted on meeting the girls. Well, I was right, wasn’t I?” Flint’s voice held an unmistakable ring of triumph.
“Are you one of those annoying types who always have to have the last word?”
“I’m not annoying, but yes, I’ve been told that I do like to have the last word,” he admitted, not at all offended by the charge.
“Ohhhh! These next two weeks are going to be interminable.” Ashlinn was vexed, but more with herself than with him. For there was an unwelcome excitement bubbling inside her that she couldn’t suppress.
“Interminable,” Flint agreed.
But his grim pronouncement was at odds with the slow smile playing across his face.
Three
By the time the Paradise Outdoors expedition arrived in Custer State Park the next afternoon, Ashlinn was uncomfortably aware that she had more in common with Presley Oakes Jr. than with her fellow campers. At least the boy publisher enjoyed city life and had never escaped from a war zone or attempted to climb Mount Everest.
Jack Hall, Etienne Bouvier, Rico Figueroa and Koji Yagano had done all that and much more. They were professional out-doorsmen and adventurers, each with a long resume of successful feats and scrapes with death. In addition to writing about their escapades for their respective magazines, all four were proud contributors to The Most Dangerous Places on the Globe, a book Ashlinn had never heard of.
Flint had.
“The title is self-explanatory. It’s a kind of guidebook for the most dangerous places in the world, destinations that aren’t recommended for travelers,” he explained as he drove the party in an enormous rented van to the park in southwestern South Dakota. Ashlinn was sitting beside him in the front while the other four men sprawled two to a bench in back.
“They are places that definitely aren’t recommended for tourists,” added Jack Hall, his tone and expression making it clear that he considered tourists a threat to the quality of life, much the same as flesh-eating bacteria.
“Your state department forbids you to go to many of the places we’ve been,” Rico Figueroa added enthusiastically.
“Then why go? And why bother with a guidebook for unsafe places?” Ashlinn asked what she considered to be the most obvious questions.
She heard a groan. An impatient sigh. And then silence descended.
Ashlinn chewed her lower lip. She’d done it again; it seemed she had a talent for exasperating this crew.
She cast a glance at Flint. At least he didn’t look exasperated.
Flint caught her eye. “Maybe ‘guidebook’ isn’t the best choice of word. Think reference book instead.”
He’d responded politely to all her questions and remarks when the others wouldn’t, Ashlinn mused gratefully.
“The book is more of an anthology,” Flint continued, filling the silence. “The various contributors write about what they saw and did in dangerous cities and countries all over the world. There are plenty of armchair adventurers who enjoy experiencing danger vicariously.”
“You’re in travel publishing, Ashley, you know that,” chided Jack Hall.
“It’s Ashlinn,” she corrected, not for the first time. “And Tour & Travel features articles on places like Sausalito and Williamsburg. Our readers want amenities and charm, not threats to their lives.”
“But your new publisher is set on changing that,” Flint reminded her.
As if she needed reminding! Ashlinn sighed.
“Custer State Park probably is less dangerous than crossing any street in Paris, but our stay there will be a useful respite,” said Etienne Bouvier. “With no distractions in the evenings, I plan to polish my article on my encounter with headhunters.”
“Before you ask,” Flint murmured under his breath to Ashlinn “He’s not referring to an executive search agency.”
She knew he was kidding and chuckled quietly. “I think they’d throw me out of the van if I asked, even as a joke,” she whispered back. “They take their adventures very seriously.”
“The next two weeks are the equivalent of lying in the sun on a beach, something I rarely do,” piped up Rico. “But I intend to completely relax on this trip.”
“We’re scheduled to rock climb, mountain bike and climb a peak, among other activities,” Ashlinn pointed out, reciting their proposed itinerary from the list she’d been given that morning. “None of that can be termed relaxing.”
For her, just thinking of what lay ahead was fatigue-inducing. The possibility of relaxation during the next two weeks seemed as remote as their campsite.
“I think that climbing Harney Peak, which