He's the One (24 page)

Chapter Three

M
ark watched as Carla raised the fork, laden with the first bite of the flaky white
fish he’d cooked, to her lips.

When she closed her eyes and released a sultry, low “mmm” from deep in her throat,
he feared he might embarrass himself right there. Her groan seemed to cut straight
through him, awakening carnal desires he shouldn’t be having in public, and especially
not for a woman he’d just met today.

“What did you put on it?” When her golden-brown eyes opened and focused on him, he
had to force his attention off her mouth and what he’d like to do with it, and on
her question.

“I didn’t do too much to it, really. Logan brought salt and pepper and a few lemons.
And Tuck had aluminum foil. I wrapped it all up with the fish, and put it over the
coals. But of course, there was one more secret ingredient I added.”

Carla lifted one eyebrow. “Is it so secret you won’t even share with me?”

Her flirtatious question set Mark’s heart speeding. “I think I might be able to,
if
you promise not to tell.”

“Cross my heart.” Her motion as she trailed a finger across the skin of her chest
exposed by the bikini top drew all of his attention. He imagined following that path
with his mouth.

It was an effort to wrestle his gaze away as his misbehaving cock woke up and took
notice.

He drew in a deep breath to settle himself and then said, “Beer.”

“Beer?” Her eyes opened wide.

“Yes. At home I would have used white wine, but since we didn’t have any with us,
I figured I’d give the beer a try.” He shrugged.

She laughed. “Well, I’m glad you did, because it worked. This tastes amazing.”

“What’s amazing?” Tuck returned from where he and Logan had the propane burner hooked
up beneath a fry pot filled with oil.

“The fish Mark cooked.” She took another bite. “Oh, my, God. Absolutely amazing.”

Carla’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head with her obvious satisfaction. Mark’s
mind went to bad, bad places as he pictured her beneath him, her face contorted with
pleasure from his loving her, rather than from the food he’d cooked.

Where had that thought come from? Mark pulled his brain off naughty thoughts of making
love to the sexy woman in front of him and back to more appropriate topics—such as
campfire cooking.

He cleared his throat. “It was nothing. Really. I just threw on what we had.”

Logan followed close behind Tuck with a plate loaded with fried catfish. “First batch
is done. Second batch is in the fryer.”

“I don’t know if the catfish I caught and you cooked can live up to Ross’s sunnie,
here. According to Carla, it’s unbeatable. Too bad it was too small for all of us
to have a taste.” Tuck grinned at Carla.

“Don’t worry, smarty-pants. There’s more. Mark cooked my bass, too, and it’s excellent.”

The sound of his first name on Carla’s lips had Mark warming further. Her calling
him by his given name sounded even more intimate in contrast, since Tuck always referred
to him by his surname.

But all this discussion about his cooking made Mark self-conscious. He tilted a chin
toward the overflowing plate Logan held. “I’d love to try a bite of the catfish you
and Tucker fried, Logan. And here, let me get you both a plate so you can try some
of Carla’s bass.”

“Thanks.” Logan put the dish of fried fish on top of the cooler, which seemed to now
be functioning as a serving table. “I was talking to a few of the guys from the phys
ed department. They set up camp right next to where I had my fryer going. Anyway,
they’re going over to see what they can catch on the other side of the lake tonight.
Tuck and I are going to join them right after we eat. You two in?”

More fishing? It had been fun once. No doubt Carla’s presence had added greatly to
his enjoyment, but even with her there, Mark wasn’t sure he was up for a repeat. Not
at night, following a day that had started very early that morning. After eating the
meal and drinking a few beers by the campfire, he was happy to not do much of anything.

They’d already fished for hours, for the better part of that day, but except for some
faculty stopping by to say hello to him on their way to the swimming area, it had
been just the four of them. He hadn’t totally embarrassed himself fishing today with
Tuck and Logan, and he’d impressed Carla with his cooking skills tonight. His instincts
told him it was time to end this day on a high note.

Who was to say what would happen tonight with these other people? It was best that
Mark quit while he was ahead. He could imagine how inadequate he’d feel next to the
iron-pumped linebackers from the phys ed department. Jeez.

With a plate held in one hand, Mark pushed his glasses up his nose with the other.

“Uh, thanks, but I think I’ll pass.” He reached out and gave the dish to Logan and
then bent to pick up the second plate, which would be for Tucker.

“You know, I’m not gonna want to go out again tonight, either. I’m thinking after
such a good meal, all I’m going to want to do is relax.” Carla’s answer almost made
Mark trip and drop the plate in his hand.

She wasn’t going fishing? When the others left, she was going to stay there. With
him. Alone.

He forced himself to pay attention to where he was walking only to find when he did
glance up from the tricky terrain, Tuck was grinning at him.

Mark thrust the fish-laden paper plate forward. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Ross.” Tucker had a way of smirking that made Mark feel like a bug under
a magnifying glass. As if Tuck could somehow know what Mark was thinking, and it amused
him greatly.

If Tuck could read minds, Mark’s romantic thoughts about Carla would amuse the cowboy
to no end, because women like Carla didn’t go for men like Mark. Historically, inevitably,
they went for guys who could wrestle giant fish with their bare hands, the way Tucker
had today.

Meanwhile, Mark had done nothing to help Tuck with his struggle in the water except
stand by, openmouthed and amazed. Then he’d whipped out his cell phone to take a picture
of the action, because really, without proof, who would believe it if he told them?

Women like Carla went for guys like the bruisers from the phys ed department who coached
the OSU Cowboys football team to victory. But men like Mark? Pale—make that slightly
sunburned, since he’d forgotten to reapply his sunscreen today—professors who spent
their days behind a desk or in front of a classroom?

No. He couldn’t see a woman like Carla with someone like him.

As unfortunate as that was, Mark feared it to be the truth. As an Oklahoma cowgirl,
Carla was used to the rough and tough outdoorsmen she encountered in her everyday
life. Her perfect man would be a fish wrestler, or a cattle rancher, not a pencil
pusher. Not even one who could cook.

Tucker took a plastic fork full of the bass Mark had so painstakingly prepared because
it was Carla’s catch and tasted it. “Mmm, Carla’s right. That is damn good.”

Logan laughed between forkfuls from his own plate. “Uh-oh, Mark. You may have just
nominated yourself camp cook for the next fishing trip.”

“Next fishing trip?” Mark paused in his path back to his chair.

“Yeah, sure.” Logan nodded. “Tuck and I go as often as we can. At least a couple of
times over summer break.”

“Really? Oh, okay,” Mark agreed, figuring when the time came, if they did invite him,
which he doubted, he’d come up with some kind of an excuse to back out. Unless of
course, Carla would be there again.

Would she? Did this group he’d fallen into today all hang out together on a regular
basis? Or was she on this trip strictly because she was part of the OSU rodeo team
and this was a university retreat?

Mark didn’t know, but he’d like to find out because although Tuck was engaged and
a taken man, Logan wasn’t. Logan was single and available and could definitely make
a play for Carla should he wish to. The university’s nonfraternization rule wouldn’t
even apply in this case since the rodeo team was classified as a club and not an official
part of the sports program.

All of his pondering raised another, more important question—was Carla even single?
She didn’t wear a wedding or an engagement ring, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in
a serious relationship with some cowboy off tending his herd somewhere.

When Tucker and Logan went off fishing tonight, and Carla was all his—and God how
he wished she were his—then Mark would have to see what he could glean. Words were
his life, and although it seemed she made him as tongue-tied as a teenage boy, Mark
would find out more about this woman. Once he set his mind on a goal, there was no
stopping him.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” Tuck asked.

Carla shook her head. “Nah. Thanks. I’m ready to turn in for an early night.”

Hands filled with what he’d need, Logan paused just on the edge of the firelight.
“You two will be okay here until we get back?”

“I’m sure we’ll be just fine.” Mark covered a yawn with his hand. “Excuse me. I’ll
probably be turning in pretty soon myself.”

“All right.” Tuck nodded. “If you’re both asleep by the time we get back, we’ll see
you in the morning.”

“All right.” Mark raised a brow. “Uh, are we fishing again at sunrise?”

The tone of Mark’s question had Carla smiling. He might be trying to hide it and sound
enthusiastic, but she saw right through that act. The last thing he wanted to do tomorrow
morning was get up before dawn to fish.

“Nah, we’ll break down camp after breakfast, maybe take a dip in the lake, and then
head out,” Logan answered.

“Oh, okay. Great.” Mark visibly perked up. “See you in the morning. Happy fishing.”

When Tuck and Logan were out of sight, Carla stood. She had a plan and now was as
good a time as any. She dumped the paper dinner plates into the garbage bag they’d
brought along and glanced up at the professor.

“So, how’s about a little dip right now?”

“Dip?” He pushed his glasses up his nose one more time, where she knew from watching
him all day they wouldn’t stay for long before they’d slip down again.

“Yeah. I love swimming at night. The air’s just starting to cool off but the water’s
still holding the heat of the sun. It’s the perfect way to end a perfect day. And
I can go to sleep feeling clean and fresh, instead of smelling like campfire smoke.”

“Is that allowed? Swimming at night, I mean?”

She grinned at his hesitation. It was adorable how he worried about every little thing.
If her last boyfriend had been even half as concerned with the consequences of his
actions, Carla might not have found him buried inside a buckle bunny on the night
he’d canceled their date because he supposedly had to help a buddy move.

Just thinking about it pissed her off, even months later. She buried that anger and
concentrated on the man in front of her. Mark couldn’t be more different from her
ex-boyfriend, and he didn’t deserve to be subjected to her anger over something he
had nothing to do with.

“Is it allowed?” Carla shrugged. “Hell if I know. I didn’t stop to read the rules
posted on the sign when I drove in.”

He smiled and started to gather the cooking utensils. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re not
the kind of woman who’d let rules tie her down.”

In reality it was because she’d been tired this morning and it had still been dark
out, but yeah, his excuse sounded good, too. It made her seem like an independent,
strong individual, which was way better than what she was—kind of smoky-smelling and
a little bit sex deprived. She wouldn’t mind getting closer to this man, much closer,
while washing away the remaining scent of dinner.

“You’re right. Nothing ties me down, so put back that frying pan and let’s go.” She
reached out and grabbed his free hand.

“I should clean that pan—” As Mark started to protest, Carla paused in her quest to
pull him toward the water. She turned to stare into his eyes. She watched as he bit
his lower lip, and a small frown furrowed his brow. Finally, he put the pan down.
“You know what? Forget about cleaning up. I can do that later.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Now let’s go.”

“Do you know where the swimming area is? Logan said there are separate designated
swimming and fishing areas.” He continued to question the rules as she dragged him
forward.

“Yup. I know right where it is.” As far as Carla was concerned, for her purposes,
the swimming area was wherever there were no people nearby. She wasn’t in the mood
for idle chatter with some OSU faculty member she’d never met. She was in the mood
for some alone time with Professor Mark, though.

Mark took her hand in his with a firm, warm grip. No wishy-washy hand-holding with
this man. When he held on to her, she felt held. It was nice. She liked the feeling.
She’d like it better if it were his arms wrapped around her body rather than his fingers
wrapped around hers, because she hadn’t had that satisfaction with a man in far too
long.