“You were joking. I know that. Forget I opened my big mouth. Talk about unprofessional. Good God, I—”
“Our relationship doesn’t feel professional. You’re family friends with Walton, and we’re very close.” She stiffened. “Please don’t take that out of context. I didn’t mean we’re—”
“No worries. I know how you meant it. Anyway, my godfather isn’t the cheating type, and he loves his wife.” Sawyer gave her a reassuring smile. “There’s also the Griff and Ainslee connection. Maybe all these interlocking relationships are why you don’t seem like just another client on a rafting trip.”
Somewhere in the night, a cricket chirped, breaking the silence that fell between them. At their feet, the fire snapped and popped as the last of the branches he’d added settled into the glowing coals.
“I wasn’t completely kidding.”
He swallowed hard. “You weren’t?”
“Nope, I like your genuineness. A refreshing change.” Her voice hardened. “But let’s give it a couple of days to get to know each other better. Despite the impression I probably gave you, I don’t share a…tent with every good-looking man I meet.”
“I never imagined you did.”
“Good night, Sawyer.” With a final backward glance, she turned and disappeared into the darkness.
“Wow.” The whispered word melted into the night. Sawyer dropped to his knees then crawled into his sleeping bag to stare up at the inky sky. Devin wasn’t the kind of woman he was looking for, but the erratic beat of his heart argued the point despite all the evidence to the contrary. She favored cities and dated men who wore suits. He spent half the year living in a tent and put on a clean pair of jeans when he wanted to dress up. Their lifestyles were polar opposites.
Maybe different wasn’t so bad. Change was good for the soul, wasn’t it? Stimulating. He grimaced. Right now, imagining the soft curves beneath those damn penguin pajamas, he was so stimulated he’d probably never get back to sleep.
Turning on his side, he gave his pillow a couple of whacks then bunched it beneath his head. If Devin was interested, he sure wouldn’t turn her down. Hell no. Like the river behind him, he’d just go with the flow and enjoy her company for the next few days. Not let himself worry about what would happen when the trip ended.
His problem was he thought things to death. This time he’d turn off his brain and go with his gut. A grin slipped out. Or possibly other parts of his anatomy. As long as his heart wasn’t involved, it was all good.
* * * *
Devin stretched her legs out in front of her on the rocky ground, took a sip of her raspberry-flavored drink then closed her eyes to soak in the afternoon sun. Some of the others in the group were talking together while they munched chips and drank sodas, but the details of their conversation were drowned out by the roar of the nearby rapids. Which was just fine with her. She was sorely in need of some alone time. Between the off-color jokes and constant bickering about sports, she was on a testosterone overload.
When her cell rang, she nearly toppled off her perch. Talk about an intrusion… By the time she dug her phone out of the waterproof container in her bag, the call had gone to voicemail. After listening to Syd’s urgent message, she called Walton’s campaign manager back.
When he answered on the first ring, she got straight to the point. “Everything is fine here, honestly. No need to stress out since the media is playing by the rules we set up ahead of time.”
“Glad to hear it.” The gruff voice paused. “When neither you nor Walton responded to my messages, I started to worry.”
“Service is super spotty on the river. I was shocked when my phone rang.”
“Oh. Then we’ll make this quick. How’s Walton handling the rapids? Does he look presidential or like he might cave in under a little pressure?” His voice deepened. “This whole plan could blow up in our faces.”
Devin grinned as she pictured Syd’s mustache twitching while he paced in a circle. “Actually, our boss is handling the river pretty darn well, all things considered.”
“What things?” His voice took on a dire tone.
“Just a touch of food poisoning. He’s fine now.”
“Goddamn it, I knew there’d be adverse consequences to this trip!”
A shout came from upriver. “I see the raft. Get ready to film.” Liam stood atop a boulder, video camera poised.
Devin craned her neck toward the action. “Syd, I have to go. I’ll talk to you next time I have service, but you don’t need to worry. I’m doing my job.”
“You’d better. I—”
She clicked the phone off and dropped it in her bag.
Yancy, the older member of the two-man media team, hefted a camera to his shoulder and pointed it at the heart-stopping Pistol Creek rapids. They’d all managed to survive the descent before taking a short break. Most of the group had survived, anyway. The jury was still out on the fate of her boss, Dwight and Alex, who were in Sawyer’s raft coming through now. Liam had insisted on filming a segment featuring Walton and the two boys, guaranteed to entertain and excite the viewing public.
Devin had complete faith in Sawyer’s ability to muscle the raft through the drops and turns in the long set of rapids with style. She wished she was as certain Walton and the two teens would master the experience without disgracing themselves. Expressions of extreme terror in the face of nature in the raw were the exact images the campaign manager feared most.
“Whoo-hoo! This is epic. When they get closer, focus on Hinsdale’s face if you can. I’m getting background footage.” Liam’s shout was barely audible over the roaring river.
“You know it!” Yancy anchored his feet on the river’s edge and swung the camera, presumably to better follow the raft’s progress as it careened through the rapids.
Bouncing and dipping, the occupants paddled hard at Sawyer’s barked instruction. Even Dwight was putting in maximum effort. Devin grinned. Apparently the kid didn’t want to look lame on national television. The congressman sat erect, face composed, though she sensed a nervous tension in the way his jaw clenched as they dropped down the final chute into calmer waters. Below her, the others cheered as the raft nudged up to the shore.
“Nicely done.” Jon held the front of the raft while the two boys scrambled onto the rocky beach. “You looked like pros out there.”
“Scared the crap out of me.” Walton let out a long breath then glanced her way. “Did it show?”
“Not at all. America will be impressed.”
“Let’s hope. What a day.” He climbed up to her viewpoint and collapsed beside her.
Devin forced her gaze away from Sawyer, who’d just pulled his soaking wet shirt off to wring it out, and focused on her boss. “How’re you feeling?”
“Not my best. All that heaving last night made me sore.” He pressed a hand to his stomach. “Whatever it was, I got it out of my system.”
“Be thankful you did. I’m not sure how medical emergencies are handled out here in the middle of nowhere.” She frowned. “Still, it’s odd you were the only one to get sick.”
“I’ve never been able to tolerate spicy food. Maybe it was the barbecue sauce, not the potato salad.” He let out a sigh. “It’s over. I’m sure it’ll be smooth sailing—or should I say rafting—from here on out.”
“Let’s hope.” Her attention returned to Sawyer, who was talking to Jon. The object of her midnight fantasies shook his head then pulled his shirt back