He pushed away from her, holding her upper arms in his hands. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  FAR WORSE THAN she could have imagined, sharing the same space with Nolan Hersch without being able to touch him or even gaze at him was pure torture. Now that she’d decided she not only craved him with every breath but that she actually liked him and enjoyed his company, he had to go ahead and take things a step further by revealing how he interacted with his students. He might have invented the word mentor, and it quickly became clear both of them adored him, even Susan. They hung on his every word and basked in his smiles, smiles he gave generously. At the same time, he challenged them and urged them to do the same with him. She was witnessing a master class in the art of teaching, and she’d take some of the lessons back to her department when she left.

  When she couldn’t tolerate one more moment of his perfection, she retreated to the kitchenette with a stack of dishes. The aroma of barbecue—smoke and the tangy sauce Dave had mixed up—still hung in the air and clung to the plates. They’d had a fabulous meal, and now Nolan had powered up his laptop to illustrate their discussion of the elk they’d be studying.

  “This one’s Old Bob,” he said as she turned her back to the other three and turned on the hot water.

  “He’s something,” Susan replied.

  Just a few days before she’d sat in the blind with Nolan as he’d taped the animals. She’d thought him crude and sexist. Hell, maybe he had been. They’d both changed since then.

  “How old is he?” Dave asked.

  “Gayle would know,” Nolan said.

  She had to face them to answer. Anything else would be rude. “I’ve been following him for five years. He’s probably seven or more.”

  Nolan’s gaze met hers and held. For a moment, just a moment, she allowed herself to take in the strong line of his jaw and the light of intelligence in his blue eyes. She would not look at his lips. She wouldn’t.

  He glanced away first, but a hint of color appeared on his cheeks. She felt her own face grow warm. This was unbelievably awkward, but with any luck the others wouldn’t pick up on the tension between them. Taking a steadying breath, she went back to work and finally got around to adding some dishwashing liquid.

  “Now watch the female,” Nolan said. “What’s her name again, Gayle?”

  “Hattie,” she said without removing her gaze from the sink.

  “Right, Hattie. See how she’s standing her ground. She’s inviting her mate,” Nolan told the others. The sound of Bob’s bugling followed.

  “Magnificent,” Susan said. “Will we get to see that?”

  “Probably,” Nolan said. “You two can share the blind tomorrow.”

  Oh, no. This was not happening. If Susan and Dave took the blind tomorrow for some observation, that would leave Nolan and her alone together somewhere. More incredible sex and then having to face the other two at the end of the day again. They’d have to pretend all over again that they weren’t fucking each other’s brains out at the smallest opportunity. They were scheduled to be here for weeks. She’d be a basket case after a few days.

  “Can I help?” Dave said.

  Gayle nearly jumped a foot. Somehow, he’d come right up next to her without her knowing. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I can dry or wash,” he said. He was a tall, good-looking guy with an easy smile. Early twenties. She’d been that young once and so eager and thrilled to be pursuing a graduate education.

  “You just arrived,” she said. “Enjoy yourself.”

  “It’s great to be here. I’m excited to have the opportunity to work with you.”

  “You’re Dave Harris, right? You did that journal article with Nolan last year.”

  “He made me first author,” Dave said. “I collected the data, but the ideas were all his.”

  It had been a solid paper in a good journal. None of Nolan’s usual flair for overreach from data to conclusions. He’d given Dave a good start on a research career with the first authorship.

  “Susan has an article coming out with him in the fall,” Dave said. “He’s been great for both of us.”

  Just then, laughter broke out from the other side of the room. Two voices, one male and one female.

  “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Professor Hersch?” Susan said. “You want to study the females?”

  “Of course,” Nolan said. “The cows decide ultimately which of the bulls get lucky. Bob’s good, but even he can’t hit a moving target.”

  Her own words. Gayle clutched the glass she’d been washing so hard she might have broken it if she didn’t force her fingers to relax.

  “What did you do to him, Gayle?” Susan asked.

  “Nothing,” she managed to get out, staring into the dishwater.

  “Well, something sure changed him,” Susan said.

  “Let me ask you something. Did I ever . . .” Nolan’s voice trailed off for a moment. “. . . bulldoze you with my ideas?”

  “You tried a couple of times,” Susan said. “I have three brothers. I don’t bulldoze easily.”

  “Thanks for being honest,” Nolan said softly.

  “You’re welcome,” Susan said. “But I’m not writing an article with that title.”

  “Why not?” he said. “At the end of this project, I want you to write a paper on the cow’s part in mating behavior.”

  “But that title?” Susan laughed some more. “ ‘Getting her to hold still’? Come on, Nolan.”

  “If the cow doesn’t want to mate, the bull gets nowhere,” Nolan said. “With Gayle’s contribution, we’ll document that.”

  “I am not standing up at conferences to present a paper titled ‘Getting her to hold still.’ ”

  “Okay, I’ll make the presentation,” Nolan said. “It’ll be sensational.”

  “It’ll have my name on it,” Susan said. “Make him see reason, Gayle.”

  “Who, me?” She turned to find Nolan staring at her openly. For a few seconds, the gleam of sexual hunger flashed in his eyes. It absolutely stole her breath, sucking every bit of oxygen out of her lungs. Her heart beat like a drum, so loud the others might have heard it. When he looked away, her knees threatened to buckle.

  “Dave, maybe I will take you up on that offer of help,” she said. “I have a headache, and I think I’ll go to bed.”

  Nolan shot out of his chair. “Are you okay?”

  She held out her arms to ward him off. “Fine. I just need to lie down.”

  Before any of them could express concern or any other damned thing, she set the dishcloth on the counter and went into the room she’d be sharing with Susan for the rest of this trip.

  GAYLE WOKE AT dawn, slipped into her robe, and went into the kitchenette to start a pot of coffee. The fog had settled low that morning, swirling among the trees and clinging to the ground. When she approached the window to gaze out at what resembled a world full of ghosts, she discovered some very human, very real activity. Nolan was outside, loading his gear into the SUV. What the hell?

  After pulling her robe tighter around her, she let herself out of the cabin and closed the door behind her. He glanced up at her as she approached and then went back to stowing boxes.

  “You’re leaving?” she said.

  He straightened and ran his fingers through his already rumpled sandy hair. “Yeah.”

  “You weren’t going to say good-bye?”

  “I’m a coward,” he answered. “I left a note in an envelope under your laptop.”

  “What about Dave and Susan?”

  “I left them a note, too.”

  “Hersch, what is wrong with you?”

  “I can’t do this.” He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “I can’t stay here and keep my hands off you. It’s killing me.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Last night was hell. It turns out Dave snores. Every time he woke me up, I had to lie there and think of you in the next room. Just a few yards away, and I couldn’t be with you.”

  “Oh, Nolan.” She placed her hand against his chest to feel his solid warmth. “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to find a solution, a way to be together.”

  “How?” she asked. “Our jobs are in different states.”

  “Your university will have an opening, or mine will. If not, we’ll find a third place where they need two people.”

  She could only stare at the crazy man. “You know how scarce academic jobs are. The chances that we’ll find something good are just about nil.”

  “Then, we’ll make better chances.”

  “How could I have forgotten how stubborn you can be?” she said.

  “We’re at the top of our field, Gayle. Any department would consider themselves lucky to have us.”

  “Maybe . . .”

  He took her upper arms in his hands as if he could shake his crazy dreams into her. “We’ll look for a good faculty opening. We’ll both apply. Whoever wins will negotiate a research job for the other.”

  “You can’t give up teaching, as good as you are at it,” she said. “That’d be a crime.”

  “Stop putting up obstacles.” He nearly shouted that last. If he wasn’t careful, he’d wake the others. Then he did something even more stupid. He pulled her against his chest and kissed her, and the feel of his mouth on hers was good enough to evaporate reality. She answered as if an eternity had passed since their lips had last met. He’d addicted her to the taste of his mouth, and now she couldn’t get enough.

  Too soon, he pushed her away. Both of them were breathing hard, as if they’d just run a mile. If alone, they would have been pulling off each other’s clothes already.

  “All right,” he said, his voice unsteady. “I’ll start the search as soon as I get back.”

  “What do we do in the meantime? Do I sneak into your hotel room at conferences and tie you to the bed?”

  His blue eyes sparkled. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am serious . . . about both of your suggestions,” he said. “I’ve never been tied to a bed.”

  He was right, at least about sneaking into hotel rooms. There really wasn’t any reason anyone needed to know who was sleeping in what bed at a conference. Tying him to a bed held quite a bit of appeal, too. But would that make the foundation for a real relationship? “I guess we could do that.”

  “We’ll find other opportunities to be together,” he said. “Whatever it is we’ve created together, I’m not giving it up. I’m not giving you up.”

  “All right.” She threw up her hands in surrender. “You’ve convinced me.”

  He let out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it inside, waiting for her answer. Did the foolish man actually think she could turn him down? Pulling off his ideas would take luck and a whole lot of work, plus some serious negotiating skills. They’d manage because they had to. They’d crossed over a border at some point since arriving here, very likely inside the hollow trunk of a redwood. Neither of them could go back. They could only go forward.

  “You stay here with the students,” he said. “Make sure they get some good data we can use for a joint paper.”

  “ ‘Getting her to hold still’?”

  “It has a certain ring, don’t you think?”

  “It certainly sounds like one of Nolan Hersch’s sensational creations,” she said.

  “Ours, not mine.”

  “You’re right about that, too.” With the fog hushing everything around them, she snuggled into his arms and bathed herself in his warmth. Everything would turn out as he’d dreamed because it had to. He’d make sure of it.

  “And in the meantime, why don’t we come back here . . . alone?” he said. “After all, mating season isn’t over yet.”

  Liked Mating Season?

  Be sure to read all the novellas

  in Alice Gaines’s

  Cabin Fever series

  Heat Rises

  Storm Bound

  and

  Brief Encounter, an erotic short

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  Heat Rises

  Chapter One

  SO MUCH FOR making it to her job interview. Laura Barber might as well have been looking at a moonscape rather than a deserted mountain highway. Still shivering, she gazed out the window of the country store as the falling snow covered the pavement and filled in the road completely. The storm had started only half an hour ago. What would this place look like by morning?

  “You’re a mighty lucky young lady,” said the shopkeeper, handing her a Styrofoam cup with steam coming out the top. “If you’d gone off the road any farther from here, you’d still be out in that.”

  She took a sip of the coffee and did her best not to grimace at the bitter taste. The man may be right about her luck, but she’d probably ruined her shoes on the trek here. The low-heeled pumps had cost a bundle, and she’d worn them just enough that her feet felt comfortable when she dressed for business.

  “Yep,” the man said as he gazed out at the accumulating snow. “Nobody’ll be moving around in these parts for days.”

  “Mister—”

  “Beaumont,” he said, offering his gnarled hand.

  “Mr. Beaumont,” she said, studying him as they shook hands. The twinkle in his blue eyes suggested more youth than the fringe of white hair did. If you called central casting for a country store owner, they’d probably send someone like this man.

  “You’d be in a heap of trouble if you’d broken down farther away,” he said.

  “Can someone come out and put me back on the road before things get worse?” she asked.

  “You don’t understand storms in these mountains, Miss.”

  “Ms.,” she said. “Ms. Laura Barber.”

  “Well, Ms. Barber, won’t nobody get out of here until the plows come through.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Days,” he answered. “Probably not a week, though.”

  “A week?” Darn it all. She was supposed to be at the bottom of this mountain by evening and at an interview in the morning. She’d planned carefully to get ahead of this storm, but her plane had landed late. Still, she ought to have been able to make her destination. She’d grown up in Connecticut and had driven in winter weather before. Snow was snow, wasn’t it? Apparently not.

  “What am I going to do?” she asked. “I can’t stay here for days.”

  “That you can’t. I’ll be closing up and heading home in a few minutes.”

  “Is there a motel nearby?” she asked.

  “Nope. We’ll have to find a family to put you up.”

  “I can’t impose on strangers for days.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t see that you have much choice.”

  Wonderful. Not only would she not make it to her interview but she’d also have to spend days with people she didn’t know. She managed well enough in business situations where procedures and rules of engagement were clearly laid out. In someone’s home, she’d have to interact. She probably couldn’t disappear behind her laptop without appearing rude.

  “Unless . . .” Mr. Beaumont said. “Your solution might be pulling up right now.”

  Headlights shone in from outside—bright enough to blind her for a moment—a huge SUV or pickup, with its engine at a low roar. The motor shut off, and the lights went dim. A man climbed out and headed into the store. A blast of cold air whooshed in through the front as he entered. “Hey, Phil.”

  Mr. Beaumont shuffled off. “Hey, you young pup. What are you doing out in weather like this?”

  “Business down in the city. Thought I could outrun the storm.”

  The voice tugged at her memory. Low and dark. She knew it. Even though she hadn’t heard it recently enough to place it in her brain, something about the tone registered in her body.

  She glanced over at the counter where he stood, his back was to her. Tall and broad-shouldered, he commanded the space around him. She had a physical memory of that too, enough to warm her skin. Whoever this was, she’d do best to avoid him. But how?

  “Good thing you’re here,” Mr. Beaumont said, gesturing toward her. “This lady is going to need a ride somewhere.”

  The man turned, and all the memory nudges turned into one huge sucker punch. Ethan Gould.

  Good Lord, not him. It had to be five years . . . no, six. That night at the party. After three years of fantasies about the handsome guy who always sat at the front of the class, she’d decided to at least try to find out if the attraction was mutual. Tequila fortification, too much, had led to a night of humiliation. Oh God, all the things she’d said to him. A queasy feeling settled into her stomach remembering them after all this time.

  Other than that, they’d almost never spoken to each other all through business school. He’d have forgotten her by now. Women probably came onto him all the time—women more remarkable than her. He wouldn’t remember. Please God, don’t let him remember.

  Sure enough, he smiled at her as he would at any stranger. A genial expression he used so easily. The famed Gould charm would come next. So potent, it even worked on men. On women . . . well, forget trying to resist it.

  After a moment, his brows knitted together. “Do we know each other?”

  “No . . . I don’t think . . . haven’t met,” she said. Damn it all, how could he force this reaction from her after so much time? She’d actually lie about her identity if she could get away with it. She’d avoided him successfully since that horrible night. She’d actually followed his career so that she’d know where he was. He couldn’t have just happened on her on a snowy mountain, and yet, here he stood, as tempting and as terrifying as he’d been at that party.