Snowbound Suspicion

by Cindi Myers

He stood and moved toward her. There was nothing subtle about his stance, or the look in his eye. She felt that look like a bottle rocket straight to the middle of her chest, the heat of the explosion radiating down through her middle to pool between her legs. Something pulsed between them, and her gaze shifted from the almost painful fire in his eyes to his lips, the bottom one a little fuller than the upper, the black shadow of whiskers above the upper lip.

  He took the pillow from her and tossed it aside, then pulled her up to face him, one hand at her waist, the other beside her left breast as his lips crushed hers. She returned the fierceness of that caress, kissing him as if her next breath depended on it, opening her mouth and tangling her tongue with his, wanting—insisting—on having all of him, right this minute.

  It was a long time before he dragged his head up, breaking contact and staring into her eyes with a look that was equal parts desperation and defiance. “If you want me to leave now, I’ll go,” he said, his voice a rough growl that scraped across her nerves. “But you’d better be sure it’s what you want.”

  “What do you want?” she asked. It wasn’t a question so much as a dare.

  “I think you know that.” His lips closed over hers again and she surged up, her whole body bowing toward him, her hands clutching his biceps, fingers digging into his taut muscles. He grasped her hips and ground against her, leaving no doubt of his desire.

  Her need for him thrilled and frightened her. Some small voice in the back of her mind said she was being too reckless. It was too soon. She hardly knew this man. He—

  She told the voice to shut up and grabbed the hem of the fleece pullover he wore and shoved it upward. Then they were tearing at each other’s clothes with an urgency that would have destroyed less sturdy garments.

  She pulled him down to the bed on top of her, then he rolled until she was straddling him. She laughed at the heady feeling. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Haven’t you ever laughed simply because something felt so good?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. If I ever did, it’s been a while.”

  “Then I’ll have to see if I can change that.” She slid down his body and took him in her mouth, surprising a gasp from him. He caressed and kneaded her shoulders as her mouth worked on him, then he dragged her back up to meet his mouth with hers. “Let’s not end this too soon,” he said, with some effort. His gaze searched hers. “Are you sure you’re up to this? I forgot you had a pretty hard blow to the head.”

  “I read an article once that said sex was better than painkillers for getting rid of a headache,” she said.

  The slow, sexy smile he gave her could have melted chocolate. “Then I’ll do my best to make you forget the pain,” he said. It was his turn to surprise her, as his skillful fingers delved and fondled. When he began licking first one breast, then another, she squirmed against him. “Do you like that?” he asked.

  “No, I hate it. Can’t you tell?”

  In answer, he drew the tip of one breast into his mouth, while his fingers moved more deftly.

  Her climax rocketed through her, fierce and freeing. She collapsed against him and he held her—rather tenderly, she thought, which made her blink back foolish tears. She propped herself up on her elbows and met his gaze. “It’s, um, been a while,” she said, almost sheepishly.

  “I’m a very lucky man,” he said. He flipped her over on her back and moved between her legs.

  She grasped his shoulder. “Wait.”

  His eyes met hers, and she saw the moment he recognized the problem. “We don’t have any protection,” he said.

  “Hmm. Then we’ll have to work around that.”

  She started to slide down the bed, but he pressed her back against the pillows. “Wait a minute,” he said, and got up.

  He disappeared into the bathroom and returned seconds later, a gold foil packet held aloft. “Where did that come from?” she asked.

  “The medicine cabinets in these cabins are fully stocked,” he said. “The Walkers think of everything for their guests’ comfort.”

  “I didn’t see those before,” she said.

  “You weren’t looking.” He parted her knees and knelt between them. “I was.”

  She wanted to ask him what he meant by that but was distracted by the sight of him sheathing himself. And then he was moving into her, and she didn’t want to think about anything for a while. She only wanted to lose herself in the sensation of being filled and surrounded and uplifted by this man.

  Such a wonderful feeling.

  And a dangerous one. But she didn’t want to think about the danger now. She’d have all kinds of time for thinking later.

  Chapter Nine

  Bette untangled herself from the bedcovers the next morning, aching in body and mind. Her head hurt and her muscles ached, but worse than that, her emotions felt bruised. Cody had stayed long into the night, making love with such tenderness and ferocity, before slipping away some time very early this morning. What was it about him that made her want to be so reckless? He had given her probably the best night of her life, but this morning she was no more certain about where she stood with him than she had been at this time yesterday.

  She dressed and emerged from the cabin into a world frosted in white. Sunlight sparkled on the drifts of snow that covered everything, transforming woodpiles and old machinery into glittering confections. The air was so sharp and clean it hurt to breathe. She felt energized with every inhalation. She found Emily, Lacy, Travis and Cody in the dining room, digging into an egg-and-ham casserole that smelled mouthwatering. “How are you feeling this morning?” Lacy asked. “Does your head hurt?”

  “Only a little. I feel fine.” A little beat up, perhaps, emotionally and physically, though for long moments last night she had forgotten all about her headache, or anything else. But all the closeness and compatibility that had come so naturally last night in the intimacy of her cabin felt a lot shakier and out of reach here in the real world. She poured coffee, avoiding looking at Cody, though she was as aware of him as if he were the only person in the room.

  “I’m so glad,” Lacy said. “I had to make myself not go out there in the middle of the night, just to make sure you were okay.”

  Bette was glad she had her back to the table as she served herself from the buffet. Her cheeks burned with the memory of what Lacy might have found if she had decided to visit the cabin last night. “I’m glad you restrained yourself,” she said. “I was fine.” Though fine was a poor word to describe what she had been feeling last night—elated, transported, even awed would have been better choices.

  “I have something fun for all of us to look forward to,” Emily said. “Gage and I have decided we should have an old-fashioned sleigh ride to take advantage of the snow. Dad agreed we could use the old sleighs that are in the barn—he and Mom are out there now, checking the harness.”

  “When did you and Gage decide this?” Travis asked.

  “Yesterday. He telephoned the ranch, wanting to talk to you, but you were in the kitchen with Rainey, so he and I got to talking. Casey has been begging to go on a sleigh ride ever since he showed her that album of family pictures that Mom gave him. We figured with all this snow, now is the perfect time.”

  “When is the sleigh ride?” Travis asked.

  “Tonight, after supper,” Emily said. “We’ll hook up both sleighs and ride over to the little line shack in the south pasture. We can have hot chocolate and maybe s’mores.” She nudged him. “Don’t look so stern—it will only be for a few hours, and it will be a nice break from all the tension. We’ve all been feeling it, you know—not just you.”

  “It sounds like fun,” Lacy said. “Romantic.”

  “Very romantic,” Emily agreed. “We’ll have lots of fur robes and blankets for snuggling under, and Gage promised to bring a flask of peppermint schnapps for spiking the hot cocoa.
”

  “That sounds like Gage,” Travis said drily.

  “Oh, you’re going to enjoy it,” Emily said.

  “I wouldn’t dream of disobeying orders.” Travis kept a straight face, but Bette didn’t miss the sly look he sent Lacy across the table.

  Lacy sat up straighter, her cheeks only slightly pink. “It does sound like lots of fun. I’ll be looking forward to it. In the meantime, I have a Skype meeting with the wedding planner this morning.” She looked around the table. “What are the rest of you doing today?”

  “I’m working here for a while, then heading to the office,” Travis said.

  Cody made no comment, eyes focused on his plate. Bette had the strong impression he was pretending not to have heard Lacy’s question—when, really, he didn’t want to answer it. “I’m a little concerned about how a couple of my recipes will turn out at this altitude,” she said. “I thought I’d make some test batches, in case I need to tweak things.”

  “I’ve talked to Rainey,” Travis said. “She shouldn’t give you any trouble.”

  “Thank you.” Bette settled in the chair across from the sheriff. He really had been so kind to her—Lacy was lucky to have found a man who was so perfect for her. “If they turn out well, we can use them for more refreshments for tonight.”

  “Any idea when the road might reopen?” Cody asked.

  Travis shook his head. “They’ll be working this morning to clear the avalanche chutes.”

  “What does that involve, exactly?” Bette asked.

  “They use dynamite, or sometimes a grenade launcher, to explode the snow out of the chutes and create a slide—an intentional avalanche,” Travis said. “All the snow ends up on the highway and they have to haul it off. There are twenty-four chutes in that section of highway, so clearing them can take several days. And there’s more snow in the forecast.”

  “Why don’t they build another road?” Bette asked. “It’s crazy to have a whole town full of people who can’t go anywhere every time it snows.”

  “The road usually only closes for a few hours, maybe half a day, at a time,” Lacy said. “Some winters it doesn’t close at all. This winter is just particularly bad.”

  “There’s nowhere to put another road,” Travis said. “Not without spending hundreds of millions of dollars to blast through mountains. And it would probably be subject to avalanches, too. The people here are used to it. They know how to cope.” He slid back his chair and stood. “I need to get to work.”

  The rest of them finished breakfast and left the table one by one, until Bette was the only person left. She lingered over coffee, wanting to give Rainey time to finish the dishes and clear out. She wasn’t afraid to confront the cook, but it would be easier on everyone if she didn’t have to.

  About ten o’clock, she retrieved the ingredients she needed from her cabin and returned to the kitchen, relieved to find it empty. She pinned up her hair, then slipped her apron over her head, some of the tension draining from her body as she did so. She smiled to herself as she began assembling the tools and ingredients she needed. This was the best therapy. So many times, when her life had felt out of control, she had found solace in the kitchen. Mixing, kneading, stirring, basting—here she was ruler of her own domain, a magician who had the power to conjure beautiful things from simple ingredients.

  She went into the garage to get the cream and butter she needed for the tea cakes. She found the butter immediately, but where was the cream? She moved items around and even looked to see if somehow the carton had slipped behind the cases of beer. But the cream simply wasn’t there. She shut the door, confused. Had the cream been left behind when Cody transferred the groceries from her car to his? No—she was sure it had been there last night when she rearranged everything.

  She returned to the kitchen and began opening doors and searching everywhere for the missing cream. She was being silly—there was no reason the carton would have ended up anywhere in these cabinets. But she couldn’t shake the compulsion to look.

  And then she found it, sitting on a middle shelf in the kitchen’s walk-in pantry, next to a jar of roasted peppers. The carton was warm in her hand, and before she even opened it, she knew it would be spoiled. Disgusted, she dumped the contents in the sink, rinsed the carton and tossed it in the recycling bin. She knew she hadn’t put the cream in the pantry, which meant someone else had—probably Rainey or Doug.

  A shadow passed in front of the window. She looked out and spotted Doug, shoulders hunched, hood pulled over his head. She grabbed a coat from a peg by the back door and shoved her feet into a pair of women’s snow boots—no doubt Rainey’s. Let her complain about Bette borrowing her coat and boots and she’d get more than an earful in return.

  She found Doug huddled next to a tall stack of split firewood, cupping his hand around a cigarette to light it. “Doug!” she called.

  He jumped and almost dropped his cigarette. “What do you want?” he asked, half turning away from her.

  “Someone took a quart of cream from the garage refrigerator and put it in the pantry to spoil,” she said. “Did you or your mother do that?”

  He blew out a stream of smoke, which hung in the cold air between them. “You probably did it yourself. I heard you got hit in the head. It probably made you loopy.”

  She took a step closer; he moved a step back. “What do you know about that? Did you hit me in the head?”

  “Why would I do that? I never laid eyes on you before you showed up here.”

  “So why do you and your mother hate me?” The answer to that question was behind all this, wasn’t it? “It’s not like I’m trying to take your jobs,” she continued. “I’m just catering the wedding of a friend. Then I’m going to go back to Denver and you’ll probably never see me again.”

  “You should just go back now.” He flicked ash into the snow.

  “You’re the one who painted that message on my door, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just think it would be a lot less trouble for everyone if you went home now.”

  “Since the pass is closed, that’s impossible. But why do you care if I’m here or not?”

  “Who said I cared?” He dropped the cigarette on the snow and ground it out with the heel of his boot. “If you’ve got a beef with my mom, take it up with her.”

  “I’ll do that. Where is she?”

  “She went to her room to lie down. Said she had a migraine. You won’t get anywhere talking to her right now.” He left, moving along the edge of the woodpile and staying as far from her as possible, keeping his head down.

  Bette stared after him. What was up with this guy? He wouldn’t even look at her.

  She returned to the kitchen and shed the coat and boots. She’d make do without the cream today and go into town tomorrow to buy more. For the moment, she would leave Rainey alone. She wouldn’t get anywhere if the woman really did have a migraine. Instead, she would focus on baking, and getting ready for the bridesmaids’ tea. Those were things she could control, in a world where so much was out of her hands.

  * * *

  CODY WALKED BY the kitchen, refusing to give in to the temptation to go in and talk to Bette. He could hear her in there, opening and closing doors, rattling bowls and pots. He imagined her, focused on her work, the scents of vanilla and cinnamon clinging to her, mingling with her own sweet essence, the memory of which made him hard.

  He hadn’t gone to her cabin last night intending to take her to bed, but he wasn’t sorry he had. She got to him. He hadn’t talked to anyone about what had happened on his last assignment—not even the shrink his bosses had made him see—before last night. He had been certain that he didn’t need to talk about it. Talking didn’t do anything but pull the scab off the wound.

  But telling Bette had been easy somehow. Once he had made up his mind to talk to
her, he had wanted her to know. He didn’t feel the need for barriers with her. He couldn’t say that about many other people. Last night had been powerful, but he wasn’t sure what it meant for the future.

  Hell, he didn’t know if he even had a future. He might as well admit that, if only to himself. He didn’t know if he would have a job waiting for him when he reported back to the US Marshals Service in February. He had heard rumors of budget cuts and restructuring for months now. An officer they saw as “damaged” would be first in line to be let go.

  He needed to work—to prove he could still do the only job he had ever really wanted. With this in mind, he knocked on the door of Travis’s home office, half of a suite of rooms he occupied on the ground floor, just off the kitchen. “Come in,” the sheriff called.

  Dressed in his sheriff’s department uniform, as if at any minute he might be called out, Travis sat behind a scarred wooden desk in a small, cluttered room that resembled, in many ways, the cramped space he had claimed at the sheriff’s department in Eagle Mountain. Cody stepped in and closed the door behind him and Travis looked up from a laptop computer, but said nothing.

  “What can I do to help?” Cody asked.

  Travis pushed the laptop to one side. “Aren’t you supposed to be on leave?” he asked. Cody had told his friend some—but not all—of what had happened.

  “I’m not an invalid,” Cody said. “I need something to do and you need help. Deputize me or something.” He sank into a cowhide-covered armchair across from the desk. “Besides, with the pass closed, you’re not going to be able to call in help from the state. I’m the best you’ve got.”

  “Then I’d better not turn down your offer,” Travis said.

  “So what can I do? Is there someone you want me to interview? Something you need researched?”

  “You’ve spent more time with Bette than I have—what’s your feel for her?”

  Cody had an immediate, intense image of heated, satiny skin sliding beneath his fingers. He kept his face stony, betraying nothing, hoping Travis wouldn’t notice how tightly he gripped the arms of the chair. “What do you mean?” he asked.