Chapter 3“What’ll we do now? Are you sleepy?”
Bret’s words drew Kit’s attention. She glanced at him, catching the alert, watchful expression with which he regarded her.
“Oh no. Not at all. It’s only seven-thirty—much too early to go to bed.” Bed, still only one sleeping bag unless her wishes materialized another option, was the last thing Kit wanted to think about.
She’d survived two more MRE meals, the repairing of the table, which now stood on shorter but much steadier legs, and finished a complete game of chess. But another night in the confines of that sleeping bag? If only it wasn’t quite so tempting. Even at Harvard, she’d never seen a man as drop-dead gorgeous as Bret McClintock. And to make it even worse, he was nice. Maybe it was just biology and proximity, but he had her hormo
