Meg O'Reilly's heart slammed against the wall of her chest. And it had nothing to do with the altitude.
A tall, athletic man hopped off the Rocky Mountain Adventures van and Meg gulped, feeling like one of those cartoon characters with the googly eyes. The drop-dead gorgeous tourist with the short brown hair and drool-worthy body ignored her?and her googly eyes?while he helped a blonde adjust a backpack.
But she hadn't missed the dark brows shooting up to his hairline when he'd caught sight of her. Meg clung on to the strap of her own backpack, hitched over one shoulder, and scanned the group for a hidden camera or some reality TV host jumping from behind a tree and screaming, "You've been punked!"
Gabe, the driver of the van, hopped from the last step and swept his arm in Meg's direction. "This is Meg O'Reilly, your hiking guide. If you feed her chocolate chip cookies, she might tell you about her adventures climbing Mount Everest."
Impressed murmurs merged with the roaring in Meg's ears, but she pasted a smile on her face anyway, and with a trembling hand waved to the assembled group. Tall, dark and handsome broke away from the pack, striding forward, extending his large, gloved hand.
"Good to meet you, Meg. I'm John Shepherd, and this is my wife, Kayla." He jerked his left thumb over his shoulder toward the smiling blonde as he gripped Meg's hand in a clasp strong enough to snap her bones.
Meg narrowed her eyes and squeezed back. She knew darned well Ian, or rather John Shepherd, or whatever he was calling himself these days, wasn't married to some buxom blonde.
He was still married to her.
"Welcome to the tour? John. This is a rugged hike. Are you sure you're up to it?" She scanned the muscular frame that made her question ludicrous, before allowing her gaze to meander back to his face. Then she turned up her lips in a false, sweet smile.