Hill Country Hero (10 page)

This was officially the most terrifying day of CiCi’s life. Was Jake really going to jump into the river roiling with debris, and snakes and who knew what else? It would be a miracle if he made it out alive.
Please, God. Please, God. Please, God!

CiCi muttered the prayer over and over. She didn’t notice when Greg had joined her.

“I just thought you’d want to know. The kids are all okay,” he said. “A couple of the boys are hot to come down and help. But don’t worry, my crew has everything under control. And I’ve stationed someone at the front gate to show the emergency folks where we are when they get here.”

CiCi couldn’t keep her eyes off the activity at the water’s edge. “Good. We don’t need anyone else getting hurt.”

“Do you want to go down there and see if we can help?” Greg asked, referring to the area where Jake and the counselors were mounting the rescue effort.

“Jake’s going to have a fit, but yeah, let’s go. But first let’s put these on.” CiCi handed Greg one of the extra life preservers.

“Good idea,” he said as he slipped into the orange vest. “Let me go in front. Maybe I can stop us if we start to fall.” Greg grabbed a branch and took one step and then another.

CiCi didn’t think she was a coward, but his suggestion did make sense. “Okay.”

A slip, a slide and a few heart-stopping moments later, they made it to the riverbank. She was breathing hard but that was probably from sheer terror.

The counselors were lined up as if they were participating in a game of tug-of-war, but this time winning was a matter of life or death.

“I’m going to help them.” Greg started to walk away but CiCi stopped him.

“Do you think he’s strong enough to swim out there?” Not many people were as big as Jake Culpepper but pitted against an out-of-control river, that didn’t mean much.

“If anyone can do it, he can.”

CiCi wasn’t sure that was the answer she wanted, but it would have to do.

Jake’s first attempt missed. The guys pulled and slid and cussed until they finally retrieved him. CiCi’s knees were about to buckle, she felt light-headed and, even worse, she was afraid she was going to lose her lunch—and she wasn’t the one risking her life.

Thirty minutes—and a couple of terrifying misses—later, Jake and Angel were safely on the shore. Although they were both covered in scrapes and bruises, they were alive.

Alive! Thank God!

T
HE MINUTE
Jake touched dry land he decided to never underestimate the power of water again. He was a strong guy, but still there had been several times he’d thought he was a goner. He was tempted to drop to his knees and kiss the ground.

Fifteen minutes later, the sheriff and a fire truck arrived in an impressive display of lights and sirens. They were a day late and a dollar short, but at least the emergency medical technicians could check out Angel. When it came to the physical well-being of someone that small and fragile Jake was out of his element.

Whap, whap, whap.
That was the unmistakable sound of a helicopter.

“Why are they here?” CiCi pointed at the sky and yelled to be heard over the noise.

“I suspect we’re about to get a visit from a San Antonio TV crew,” the sheriff answered. “They were here for the bus accident and it went out over the scanner that Jake Culpepper was involved in a rescue, so…” The lawman didn’t need to finish his sentence.

Great! It hadn’t taken long for the news to spread. Jake was still trying to catch his breath when one of the choppers landed and an opportunistic reporter with his cameraman hopped out.

“Hey, we heard that you’re a hero!” the man yelled. Jake didn’t have time to respond before a camera was stuck in his face.

“What are you doing in the Hill Country?”

Jake thought a second before answering, trying to come up with the most innocuous explanation possible. “I’m a volunteer at the camp, and now I have things to do, like get into some dry clothes. I’m sure you understand. Come visit me when we’re having the Road Runners’ training camp. I’ll give you an interview then.” By that time, several other reporters had arrived, lured by the news that Jake Culpepper had been involved in a rescue.

He’d had plenty of experience dealing with the media so he was able to extricate himself with a small measure of grace. Or at least he thought he had.

“Look, I’m fine,” Jake assured the emergency medical technician who had insisted on checking him out.

“I’m sure you are.” That didn’t stop the man from taking his blood pressure—again. “So how do you think the Road Runners will do this year?”

Ah, that was it. Jake’s brain must be full of water, or mush,
not to immediately figure out what was going on. If he didn’t watch out, he’d end up signing autographs.

Football in Texas was king, and the men who played it, from high school kids to college stars to Pro Bowlers, were the crown princes.

“I’m through here.” The technician stowed his blood pressure cuff. “Would you autograph this?” He tore a piece of paper out of a notebook and handed it to Jake. “It’s for my kid.”

He’d sure called that one right.

C
I
C
I’S FIRST JOB WAS
to check on Angel. The teen had some scraped and abrasions, but other than that she was fine—and that was all thanks to Jake. The man would never admit it, but he was a hero.

And speaking of the hero, he was surrounded by a crowd of men who, from the looks of things, all wanted an autograph. Oh, boy, fame had to be quite a pain in the butt.

Maybe this time Jake would appreciate being rescued himself. “Hey, guys, would you all like to come to the dining room for a cup of coffee?” she called.

“Sure!” A sheriff’s deputy was the first to answer, but there were nods all around.

T
HE NOISE LEVEL
in the dining hall was only marginally lower than a rock concert. But what would you expect after that kind of adrenaline rush?

“Hey, Greg.” Despite the pandemonium, CiCi managed to get his attention. “These folks would like to get Jake’s autograph. Could you please keep the kids occupied?”

“Sure. Hey, you guys,” Greg yelled to his staff. “Drag out the boom box. We need to lighten up, so we’re going to have a dance.”

“Let’s go back to the kitchen,” CiCi suggested to the au
tograph seekers. “In about five minutes we won’t be able to hear ourselves think.”

Jake made his way through the kids like a modern-day Moses striding through the Red Sea. They’d almost made it to the kitchen door before the music started.

Bumpety bumpety bump!
It was so loud CiCi could feel the bass thumping through her shoes. There were kids everywhere—rocking, grinding and generally turning themselves into contortionists. Rondelle was poppin’ with a couple of his buddies. A crowd of admirers had formed around Angel. She had bumps and bruises, but according to the medics she was going to be okay.

“That’s better,” Jake said as he closed the door to the kitchen. “At least we can talk.”

“Are they always that…enthusiastic?” the sheriff asked.

It appeared that even John Law wasn’t immune to football fever. Hopefully, this little autograph session would go a long way toward building a good rapport with the local constabulary—something they might need later if any of the campers crossed the line again.

“Most of the time,” CiCi admitted. “But they’re good kids.”

A couple of days after the storm Jake and the counselors were clearing debris from the natural swimming hole. Just looking at him was enough to send CiCi into cardiac arrest. He was stripped down to nothing more than a pair of cargo shorts, a straw cowboy hat and running shoes, and man oh man, that bod was impressive. Broad shoulders, massive biceps and that chest—well, it was…it was…tanned and buff and, good God!

Cease and desist! She needed more than a good body. Tank had one, but that didn’t stop him from being a worm.

“Jake!” Oops, that sounded snippy. When he glanced up, she softened her tone. “May I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure.” Jake wiped the sweat off his face with his discarded T-shirt. “We’re almost finished.” He turned to his coworkers. “Can you do without me for little bit?”

“Sure,” answered the burliest of the three counselors. Texas Bob hadn’t hired any pencil-necked geeks.

“This humidity is hell.” Jake pulled his T-shirt over his head.

Why had he covered such a nice view?

“What do you think?” He indicated the work they’d done on the swimming hole.

CiCi had been so immersed in her prurient fantasies that
she hadn’t noticed. It took a mental slap to get her back on track. “It’s fantastic. The kids will be thrilled.”

Blue Hole was a spring-fed swimming hole that was a favorite with the campers. And considering CiCi was a big fan of keeping hormonal teens well-fed and entertained, she was thrilled with the result.

“Thanks, guys,” she said, expressing her appreciation to the crew of workers.

“So, what can I do for you?” Jake dropped down on a tree stump, wiping his face again with the hem of his shirt. “Want one?” he asked, reaching into a cooler for a bottle of Gatorade. “No, thanks.”

“Okay,” he said, taking a big swallow.

How did he make drinking an energy drink look sexy?

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” What
did
she want to talk to him about? Oh, yeah. “I just wanted to pick your brain about how to keep the kids busy with something they enjoy so they don’t have time to think up any more shenanigans. I don’t think I can take any more of this angst.”

There was so much riding on her success with Camp Touchdown—her pride, her self-esteem and last but certainly not least, Daddy’s approval.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Jake began, but before he could continue they were interrupted.

“Coach, Miz Hurst!” Javier, Rondelle’s buddy, came running up out of breath. “There’s somthin’ bad goin’ down at the main lodge. You’d better come quick!”

Jake frowned but didn’t say a word before he sprinted across the lawn. CiCi was right behind him.

What the heck was going on? Rondelle was sitting on a stringy-haired man in a cheap suit while Schwartz and a couple of other kids stood guard, armed with sticks.

Heaven help her!

“You.” CiCi pointed at the intruder. “Get up and tell me what you’re doing here. I won’t tolerate violence. It’s not good for the kids.”

She ignored the “are you kidding?” look Jake gave her. He was probably thinking juvie records, car theft, shoplifting and now assault.

“Get. Up!” she repeated when the man stayed down even after Rondelle released him.

The refugee from Sleazy ’R’ Us was writhing on the ground with his hands plastered on his head. “Keep…them…away…from me.”

“Coach. Coach!” Rondelle was trying to get Jake’s attention. “He was crawling around in the bushes with a big camera. It looked as if he was trying to get close enough to take a picture of you. I think he’s one of those papa sans.”

“A papa san?”

“I think he means a paparazzi,” CiCi guessed.

“A paparazzi?” Jake squatted to get eyeball-to-eyeball with the intruder. “Hey, man, what’s this all about?”

The man moaned.

What a dweeb, CiCi thought. “You’re a trespasser and I’m calling the cops.” She yanked the cell phone out of her pocket.

“Don’t do that.” The photographer got on his knees and waved a hand in Jake’s direction. “He’s a hot commodity, big-time hot. Getting an interview would make my career.”

“Not your call, buddy.” This guy had tabloid reporter written all over him. Knowing how newsworthy Jake was, she should’ve seen this coming.

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’.” He jumped up and ran to the front gate. The next thing they heard was an engine firing up.

“I wonder how long he’s been slinking around here.” CiCi
also wondered whether the trespasser had seen Jake kissing her the night of Angel’s rescue. She’d been distraught and he’d been comforting.

Two days later, while Jake was still pondering his paparazzi encounter, more trouble came a’calling in the form of Cousin Dwayne. That man was a true idiot. Not only was he driving Jake’s Porsche—which had made it through auto rehab—he was accompanied by none other than Brenda Olson. How had he gotten that car key?

No doubt about it, Dwayne was roadkill.

Brenda spotted him almost immediately. She jumped out of the sports car and launched herself at him—arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist. Unfortunately, Jake’s brain didn’t engage fast enough to block her.

Oblivious to their growing audience, Brenda rained kisses all over his face. Jake was trying to disentangle himself when he spied CiCi watching them. If looks could kill he’d be six feet under.

“Jake, Jake,” Brenda whined. “We need to talk. Really, honey, we do.”

Prying her off was like pulling bubble gum from a hot side walk, but Jake was determined. “Please get your hands and your body off me.”

“Aw, Jake. We could—”

“No, we couldn’t. Let go. I mean it!”

Brenda demonstrated a pout worthy of Paris Hilton but
dropped to the ground. “I just wanted to congratulate you on being so famous.”

“Famous? What are you talking about?”

She looked at him as though he’d just lost his mind. “You’ve had millions of hits on your YouTube video. Everyone in Houston thinks you’re a hero. In fact, I heard a rumor that
People
magazine wants to do a spread on you, or was that the
National Enquirer?
” She propped her chin up with a manicured nail to signal how hard she was thinking.

“A video of what?”

“You silly man.” Brenda poked that same finger at his chest. “It’s a film of you rescuing that girl.” She pointed out Angel in the crowd of teens. “It’s quite the hit.”

Jake glanced at Brenda and then Angel. Obviously someone had filmed that near disaster and then put it on the Internet. It wouldn’t have been his first choice, but with his con tract coming up for renewal, some good publicity might be useful—but maybe not.

C
I
C
I HAD BEEN
on the porch of the lodge contemplating the past three weeks when the sleek black Porsche rocketed up the gravel drive and crunched to a stop. She took one look at the blonde’s big hair, Miss America body and toothpaste-white smile, and her heart sank like the
Titanic
. She couldn’t compete with that.

Wait a minute! Her insecurities were showing, and dammit, she wasn’t going to let them rule her life.

CiCi was too chicken to get close enough to hear what was happening so she was trying to read Jake’s expressions. At first, he looked as though steam was about to pour out of his ears. And when the bimbo wrapped around herself around him like Saran Wrap, he seemed embarrassed. But the more they talked, the more baffled he appeared. So what
was
going on?

T
HE MOMENT
Jake processed what Brenda had told him, he steered his cousin toward the Porsche. “It’s time for you guys to leave. It’s late and I don’t want you driving my car after dark.” He didn’t yell, but his cousin got the message.

Dwayne put his hands up in the classic signal of surrender. “Hey, man. Don’t get in a dither. I thought I’d run up and let you know your car’s as good as new. And Brenda wanted to come say hi, so here we are.”

Jake opened the car door and pushed him in. “That was a very bad idea. When you get back to Houston leave my car at my condo and give the keys to the concierge. Do not go near any of my other vehicles. Don’t call me, don’t call my mother and don’t contact Aunt Pallie. When I want to talk to you, I’ll let you know. If I hear even a peep that you’ve been driving this car again I’ll report it stolen and let the cops take care of you.”

After he’d dealt with his cousin, Jake turned to Brenda and softened his voice. “Please go with him, and believe me, we’re not an item. We’re not dating and we’re certainly not engaged. I’m not going to call you. We’re not going to see each other.”

Brenda put both hands on his chest and gave him a push. It was as effective as a kitten taking on a lion, but it seemed to make her feel better. She pranced to the car and jumped in.

Dwayne’s first attempt to put the car in gear resulted in a stall. On the second try, the car leaped forward.

“If you strip those gears, I’ll—” Jake’s threat was lost in a cloud of dust as Dwayne and Brenda made their escape.

“The excitement’s over. Now everyone can get back to whatever you were doing,” Jake said, before he stomped off to the river.

T
HIS WAS
a side of Jake CiCi had never seen before. He was always so laid-back and charming, except perhaps when he was dealing with Rondelle and crew, but even then he kept his cool. In fact, the only time she’d ever seen him lose his temper was during the infamous chicken incident, and that time he’d been provoked by the very same cousin. When Daddy blew his top, Jake had let it roll off his back. But his family obviously knew exactly how to push every one of his buttons.

Once the commotion died down and the kids were settled in for the night, CiCi adjourned to the kitchen for an orgy of chocolate cake. To her way of thinking, chocolate was the only civilized answer to an uncivilized problem.

She might as well admit it. She was incredibly attracted to Jake Culpepper, but no matter how she looked at it, it wasn’t going to work. This episode with the blonde had put a final nail in that fantasy’s coffin. And it brought her back to the question of whether famous men were actually capable of keeping their drawers up.

“Are you willing to share the goodies?”

She hadn’t heard Jake come in, but there he was in the door way, looking more luscious than a slab of gooey Texas sheet cake, and it didn’t come much better than that.

“There’s plenty. There’s also milk in the fridge. After the day we’ve had, we deserve a treat.” CiCi was determined to be cordial.

When Jake grinned, her heart went slam, bam, thank-you ma’am. Maybe there
was
something better than chocolate. If he could bottle that charm, he’d be able to put Snickers out of business.

Jake pulled the cake out of the refrigerator and cut himself a huge piece. “You’ve talked me into it.”

“It’s mandatory to have milk with chocolate.” CiCi got up to find him a glass. “As a matter of fact, I’m fairly sure it’s
one of the commandments.” She knew she was prattling, but did she care? Nope.

C
ALL HIM A PERV
, but watching CiCi toy with the chocolate icing was giving Jake a hard-on that would make any red-blooded American man proud. However, lusting over the boss’s daughter was out of the question. No telling what Texas Bob would do if Jake laid a pinkie on his “baby girl”—probably something nasty to a favorite part of his anatomy. And if that wasn’t enough to silence Jake’s pesky libido, he didn’t know what was.

“It’s been quite an afternoon, hasn’t it?”

“Brenda told me why the tabloid guy was here,” Jake said, forking up a bite of cake.

CiCi looked surprised. “Why?”

“Apparently, I’m a YouTube star.”

“You are? What for?”

“Someone filmed Angel’s rescue, and now Brenda says there’s been something like three or four million hits.”

“Million!” CiCi squeaked.

“Interesting, huh?”

“I wonder if Daddy has heard about this. I talked to him after Angel’s rescue to let him know everything was okay. He wanted to come see for himself but I managed to fore stall him. But with the YouTube thing, I suspect he’ll make an appearance.”

Jake was about to comment when the camp phone rang.

Another midnight call. He grabbed the phone before CiCi could come around the table and get it. “Camp Touchdown.”

W
AS
M
ERCURY
in retrograde or what? All CiCi wanted was a piece of cake and a good night’s sleep. Although stripping
off Jake’s Road Runner T-shirt and having her way with him was appealing, that was a nonstarter.

“Where?” Jake demanded. It was only one word, but it held a world of meaning. She’d been at camp just three weeks and already she’d had more excitement than she’d had in the past several years.

“When?” He gave her a look she couldn’t quite read. “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

It was Code Red time again.

“What is it?” CiCi was trying to keep her cool but knew she was failing miserably.

Jake propped his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. “That idiot Rondelle and his friends snuck out and hitched a ride into town. I’m gonna kill that kid.”

“Oh, great.” CiCi felt herself deflate. Teenagers should come with a
Hazardous Cargo
sticker on their foreheads.

“It gets worse.”

“How?” A lump formed in her throat and that meant tears weren’t far behind.

“They got in a fight with some townies and the cops took all the underage combatants to juvenile detention.”

Jake made a quick call to Greg, explaining the situation. He told the head counselor to commandeer the gardener’s truck, again. It was a replay of the last Rondelle debacle, except this time the law was involved.

“No! No! No!” CiCi thumped her head on the table. She was tempted to beat herself senseless.

“It’ll be fine, honest it will.” Jake massaged the nape of her neck.

His touch was her undoing. It started with a sob, and then turned into a torrent of tears. CiCi wasn’t crying because of some teenage antics. Instead, she suspected she was having a long-delayed reaction to the way her life was spiraling out of control. But whatever the reason, the tears kept flowing.

“Oh, God! Please don’t cry. Please.”

Jake sounded distraught and who could blame him? He hadn’t signed on to deal with a full-blown lunatic. “Come here.”

A second later she found herself on his lap with her head cradled against his chest. He was rubbing gentle circles on her back as if comforting a small child.

The tears soon dried up, but she was hesitant to leave his arms. They felt so safe, and comfortable and right around her.

“Are you okay?” He tipped her chin up, hesitated for a moment and then slanted his lips over hers. The kiss started off as a soft exploration of her lips but quickly became an erotic exploration of her mouth, her heart and her soul.

Multicolored stars danced in front of CiCi’s eyes as she tried, unsuccessfully, to catch her breath. Now she knew exactly what being ravaged meant—and hot damn, it was scrumptious.

“You are so beautiful,” he muttered as he slowly inched her tank top up to reveal her breasts. Jake gently played with her nipples but quickly replaced his hands with that magical mouth of his, rubbing her midriff as he suckled. Holy Mother!

CiCi was about to make a complete fool of herself when Jake pulled slowly away, putting his forehead against hers. “Believe me, I really hate to mention this, but we have to go.”

“Why?” Then it hit her. Rondelle and his partners in crime were in trouble again. “Oh, right. Um, why don’t you go on out? I’ll be there in a second.”

When she hazarded a glance in the mirror she almost croaked. There were some major repairs to be made before she’d be presentable.

“Good grief!” She had a red nose, smeared mascara, puffy
lips and hair that would give the Bride of Frankenstein a run for her money. CiCi touched her lips. How could Jake even want to kiss her, much less become intimately familiar with every inch of her body?