Page 1 of Chasing the Wild
Chapter 1
Jess
This was professional hell disguised as team building.
I stood at the edge of the Eagle's Peak Adventure Outpost parking area, clutching my coffee tumbler like a lifeline while twelve of my fellow corporate lawyers milled around in varying states of outdoorsy costume. Half looked like they'd raided an REI clearance rack, the other half like they were heading to a country club golf game. None of us belonged here.
"Remember, this is mandatory," Belinda Sorento, our senior partner, announced with the kind of smile that meant comply or find another job. "The firm's insurance company insists on stress management initiatives after the... incidents."
The incidents were tadehree panic attacks in depositions, one associate crying in the supply closet, and Bobby Kramer's very public breakdown during the Ferris merger. Apparently, eighty-hour work weeks and impossible billable hour requirements were finally catching up to us in ways that made the firm legally liable.
So here we were, at some godforsaken mountain outpost in Vermont, pretending that a week of wilderness survival would magically cure the burnout that years of toxic corporate culture had created.
"Ms. Madison." Belinda's voice carried the particular edge reserved for associates who weren't quite making partner track expectations. "I trust you'll approach this with the same dedication you bring to your caseload."
Translation: Screw this up and kiss your promotion goodbye.
"Of course," I said, adjusting my stiff and uncomfortable new leather hiking boots. "I'm looking forward to the learning experience."
Liar. I was looking forward to getting through the next seven days without dying of hypothermia or professional humiliation, in that order.
The sound of an ATV engine cut the morning air, and I turned to see a figure approaching by the tree line.
And then the world tilted sideways.
The man who climbed off the ATV was... I didn't have words. My vocabulary—honed through three years of law school and five years of litigation—completely failed me.
He was huge. Not gym-huge, but mountain-huge. Like he'd been carved from the granite cliffs surrounding us. Broad shoulders strained against his worn flannel shirt. Arms corded with muscle and marked with scars that spoke of a life lived dangerously. Shaggy dark blond hair that looked like he'd cut it himself and didn't care. And eyes—God, those eyes—pale blue like glacial ice, sharp and assessing as they swept over our group.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I actually pressed a hand to my chest.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I didn't react to men like this. I'd trained myself not to. In my world, attraction was a liability—something to be controlled, managed, and preferably ignored entirely in favor of billable hours and client development. I hadn't felt genuine desire in so long I'd convinced myself I didn't need it.
But this man—this gorgeous mountain of a man—made my body wake up and screamyesbefore my brain could even process what was happening.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his voice carrying easily across the parking area without any apparent effort. Deep.Rough. The kind of voice that made you think of dark bedrooms and tangled sheets and being held down while—
Stop it. Jesus Christ, get a grip.
"I'm Sam Edwards, and I'll be your survival instructor for the next week. Before we start, let me be clear about something. This isn't glamping."
His gaze swept over our group again, lingering on our pristine gear and soft, office-pale faces. When those ice-blue eyes landed on me, the world stopped.
Just... stopped.
The air left my lungs. My skin went hot and cold at the same time. Every nerve ending in my body came alive in a way that felt inevitable.
He felt it too. I saw his jaw clench, saw something flare in those pale eyes before he shuttered it behind professional distance.
Oh God. This was bad. This was so, so bad.
"Some of you are going to want to quit before lunch," Sam continued, though his eyes kept finding mine like a compass seeking north. "Some of you probably should quit before lunch. The mountains don't care about your feelings, your comfort level, or your corporate hierarchy. Up here, the only thing that matters is whether you can keep yourself and your team alive."
His voice was doing things to me. Stupid, primitive things. Making me want to prove myself to him. Making me want to show him I wasn't like the others—soft and useless and ready to quit.
Making me want things I had no business wanting from a man I'd known for thirty seconds.
