“No, you wouldn’t,” she assured him, reaching for her backpack. “I was gawky and nerdy in high school and my dress was this horrible cotton candy blue that my mother picked out. It washed my skin tone out and I looked like I’d just had the flu for a month. My date went with me under the pressure of his best friend, who was going with my best friend, and he ignored me all night until he got drunk then tried to grope me. I gave him a shove and he threw up in the cab.”

“Wow. Sounds like a blast.”

“Not so much.” Imogen walked toward the tent. “How was your prom?”

“Actually, it was a good time. I took this girl Mindy. Real sweet and cute. And according to locker room gossip, a sure thing.”

Imogen paused on her way into the tent, and glanced back at him from her hunched-over position. “Was she?”

Ty winked. “Oh, yeah. Why do you think I had such a good time?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Guys devote so much time and energy to the pursuit of sex it’s a wonder they accomplish anything.”

“And explain how exactly girls are different?” Ty sat down on the rock and yanked his boots off. “How many times have you thought about sex today?”

“Hardly at all,” Imogen said. Ty had taken off his socks and he was removing his jeans, leaving him in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. Clearly the thought of a bear seeing him in the buff wasn’t a concern for him. “Okay, that’s not accurate,” she admitted, because she never could lie. “I’ve pretty much been preoccupied with sex since the moment I woke up.”

He smiled. “I like that you’re honest about it.”

Then he removed his T-shirt and his boxer shorts and was standing there in the clearing 100 percent naked. Imogen’s mouth watered and she had a sudden flashback to the feel of him inside her on the trail, her backpack against the tree trunk, her jeans partially down, his urgent thrusting inside her. She swallowed hard as her eyes raced across his hard, muscular body.

Ty pulled on his swim trunks and said, “What are you waiting for, Emma Jean? We’re burning daylight here.”

The look on his face told her he clearly knew what she had been doing and he was enjoying it.

“Don’t come into the tent,” she warned him. “If you do, we’ll never end up fishing.”

A squirrel had hopped onto the rock next to Ty and he turned to the furry creature and said, “Does she really think I care that much about fishing?”

“You’d better care. Or why else am I enduring it?”

“She’s got me there,” Ty told the squirrel.

The animal dropped his nut and ran away, and Imogen retreated into the musty, damp tent to change and try to work up some enthusiasm for dropping a wire into the water and waiting for a fish to hook himself onto it. Just the thought made her lip curl.