Well. If she had to…

“Where did you sleep last night?” River asked, settling cross-legged near the tent’s side.

“I bunked up with Ben.” Still pitching his voice softer, as if her headache were lingering. His consideration bumped River’s already high opinion of this man up a few notches. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me in your tent, and you weren’t available to ask.”

And there it went, even higher. He was dangerously close to being one of the nicest men she’d ever met.

“You didn’t stay with Jessie?” River teased.

Easton shook his head. “Something is seriously wrong with him. That guy has the worst apnea I’ve ever been forced to listen to. He’s going to bring an avalanche down on us if we’re not careful.”

“Bree’s planning on dragging him to the doctor when we get back to LA.”

“Good. Because that’s torture.” He paused, then said, “I woke up with the marmot staring at me. I don’t know how it got into Ben’s tent, but I think it watched me sleep.”

River couldn’t help her giggle. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he pulled his shirt off and set it to the side. She hadn’t intended on peeking. There was so much sheer muscle in the tent with her, it was hard to find a place to look where she couldn’t see Easton’s broad, triangular back.

A low chuckle rumbled through the tent. “Why am I keeping my back turned if you’re going to stare at me?”

“Why am I trying to stare if you’re going to keep your back turned?” she replied.

Seeing that same flush reddening the nape of his neck was more than worth it. River grinned, closing her eyes to preserve his dignity. “In my defense, I was trying. I’m sorry. I’ll keep them squeezed shut.”

“Were you?” Easton didn’t have to sound so smug.

“It’s a man’s chest,” River reminded him. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, in your own house.”

“I didn’t say you needed to close your eyes.”

That sexy rumble was even sexier when it deepened like that. And maybe they were on one of the tallest mountains in North America, but someone had cranked the heat up in this tent a few degrees hotter than a sultry Southern California night.

“I don’t know if I’m willing to risk your new love interest’s wrath.” Opening one eye, River watched the dry replacement shirt settling down over deliciously hard abdominal muscles. With a lusty sigh, River decided playing coy wasn’t her style. “You drive me nuts, you know that?”

“At least it’s going both ways, sweetheart.” He turned, those warm brown eyes sliding over her features. “You really do look better,” Easton murmured, repeating his earlier words. “I’m glad. I didn’t want to have to take you back down. I know how important this climb is to you.”

“It’s the film, not the climb. That’s just the fun part.”

“The Old Man can sense a bullshitter from a kilometer away. If you’re not up here for him, he’s going to toss you right back off.”

“I hate to disappoint his majesty, but I was born with glue on the seat of my pants.” River shifted closer, her knees mere inches from his. “Lanes don’t get bucked off.”

“Your redneck roots are showing.”

“And?” She raised her eyes to him in challenge.

Easton lowered his face, mouth near her ear. “And I like it.”

• • •

What was he doing?

It would be a lie to say that Easton had never flirted with a client before, but that was always after a climb was through and never more than the friendly camaraderie that accompanied the heady accomplishment of summiting.

River was something else.

The morning had started weird. Still half-asleep, Easton had opened his eyes, half hoping prettier ones would meet his. On the side of the sleeping bag where River had been in his dreams, the marmot sat curled up in a ball, watching him with much darker eyes.

Eyes that stared…unblinkingly.

The marmot was going to be a problem. Spending the night with it had crossed some sort of significant barrier, and they now had a new relationship status. Apparently, they were committed. The whole situation was more than a little embarrassing and not only for the fact that it was all being caught on film.

He had a suspicion the marmot knew he’d started dreaming about River every night.

Easton had been worried about her, but when he’d unzipped the tent, River had momentarily stolen his breath away. Her hair was loose across her shoulders, and she was blinking up at him as if she’d gotten caught. Easton couldn’t help but stare. And when she’d flashed that perfectly innocent, heart-stopping grin at him, Easton knew that, one: he’d definitely caught her up to something. And two: if anyone was in danger of being caught here, it was him.

Falling for River wasn’t a bad idea. It was epically bad. He wasn’t interested in being some actress’s part-time fling on location, and whispering in her ear was exactly what Easton shouldn’t be doing. Getting drawn in like this, so close all he had to do was inhale and she would be in his arms, was even worse. Easton was starting to lose his ability to say no to the woman in front of him. All she had to do was turn those pale-blue eyes his way and—

Her eyes. That was what had happened.

“Your eyes.” He could have kicked himself for not being more on top of this.

“What about them?”

“It’s your blue eyes,” Easton explained. “We’re so close to polar north up here, and the elevation has us closer to the sun. The brightness of the light is more than your eyes can handle.”

She frowned. “It wasn’t a problem on any of my other climbs.”

“Your other climbs weren’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, weren’t the Old Man,” she finished for him with a sigh, leaning back on her hands. “Do you realize I was dangerously close to kissing you? And it would have been great, Easton. Fabulous. Now a not-kiss is all you get.”

Easton reached for his pack and pulled out a pair of snow goggles with darker tinting than the ones she had brought with her. “I think you’ll do better wearing these. Otherwise, the headaches are going to keep coming. A few more, and you won’t care about the documentary or anything else. You’ll be fighting to get back down as hard as you fought to get up here.”

“Don’t underestimate my stubbornness.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t dare.”