by Rebecca York
Yet Amy couldn’t find it in herself to walk away. Deep down, she knew he was hurting and lonely.
Following an impulse, she pulled back. “I think we should leave and try to find some moose tracks ice cream.”
He looked down at her as if she were crazy. “Ice cream? I thought you said it was cold.”
“It is,” she said. “But sometimes you just need some moose tracks ice cream.”
“There’s nothing rational in that statement,” he said, clearly not convinced.
“That’s the beauty of it. Irrational, impulsive enjoyment.” She paused. “Or we could always rejoin the party.”
He frowned. “Wild-goose chase for ice cream or a party. Great options,” he muttered, then shook his head. “We might as well try to find this deer droppings ice cream.”
“Moose tracks,” she corrected with a chuckle. “We brought separate cars, so—”
“Let’s take mine. We can pick yours up in the morning.”
“Okay, I need to get my coat.”
He shook his head. “If you go back in there, you’ll never get out before midnight. Frank will grab you and hold you hostage by the mistletoe.”
“I’ll freeze,” she complained as he led her around the perimeter of the house.
“I’ll turn the heater on high.”
Lucas figured he had covered about eighty-seven miles and visited seven backwater convenience stores before they’d hit pay dirt. So now they sat in his truck with the heater blasting in the parking lot of Rob’s Hop-In. He was so hot he’d tossed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt down to his waist and wanted to ditch the rest of his clothes. His body temperature wasn’t exclusively the result of his truck’s roaring heater.
Just across from him, Amy sat on the seat in her black stocking feet with her legs splayed to the side, making her little velvet dress ride up her thighs. That was bad enough, but if he watched her lick the spoon from her carton of ice cream one more time, he thought he might explode.
She dipped the plastic utensil into the carton and lifted a heaping spoonful of ice cream. Lucas felt a trickle of sweat roll down his back. He prayed she wouldn’t eat it. He prayed she wouldn’t lick that spoon with her wicked pleasure-promising tongue.
She smiled and extended the spoon. “Wanna bite?”
He let out a hiss of breath. “Of moose droppings,” he muttered, still unable to believe that he’d run all over two counties to get ice cream. He had lost his mind, and it was all because of Christmas. He never should have gone to his sister’s party.
“Moose tracks,” Amy corrected and lifted the spoon closer to his lips. “Better hurry or it’ll drip.”
He covered her hand with his and lifted it to his mouth. The creamy combination of vanilla, chocolate fudge, and peanut butter filled his mouth while Amy licked her own lips. He stifled a growl. “Not bad,” he said.
“Moose tracks ice cream has magical restorative powers. I discovered it in college,” she said, lifting another spoonful of ice cream to his lips.
He guided the spoon into his mouth and a nudge of curiosity. “Who introduced you?”
She furrowed her eyebrow in confusion. “Who introduced me to whom?”
“Who introduced you to Moose Droppings?”
“Tracks,” she said again with a mock-glare. “A group of girls in the dorm introduced me.”
Lucas relaxed slightly. “Hen party,” he said with a wry grin.
She looked affronted. “We were a group of intelligent, liberated women discussing—”
“Men and PMS,” he finished and took the spoon from her when she gaped at him. He dipped a spoonful and rubbed the bottom of the spoon on her lower lip. She sucked the ice cream into her mouth and he felt a visceral tug in his gut. He wanted to see her mouth on his flesh.
She lifted her chin. “We were discussing British Literature.”
“And?”
“Men,” she reluctantly admitted.
“And?”
“Women’s issues,” she said in a snooty voice.
Lucas threw back his head and roared with laughter.
Amy stared at him.
“What?” he asked.
“You should do that more often,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Laugh,” she said. “It makes you look so—You look—” She broke off and shook her head. “Then again, maybe you shouldn’t.”
“I look what?” he demanded, curious about the look in her eyes.
“Never mind,” she said, eating another bite of ice cream.
He covered her hand. “You started the sentence. Now finish it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Tough. You owe me. I went all over the place to get you ice cream.”
“I thought this was a gift from the heart,” she said with a mock-lovelorn expression.
“It wasn’t. Finish the sentence,” he said, refusing to be dissuaded.
She rolled her eyes. “Okay. If you answer one of my questions first, I’ll answer your question.”
He nodded. “Ask your question.”
“Name three things you want for Christmas,” she said.
Drawing a complete blank, Lucas groaned and wiped his hand over his face. “All I want for Christmas is for it to be over.”
“Sorry, Ebenezer, that’s not an answer.”
Lucas swore. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked him what he wanted for Christmas. Even his sister knew better than to ask him such a question. Racking his brain, he threw out the first things that came to mind. “Socks, a new rack for my truck, and…a Maserati.”
Amy stared blankly at him. “Socks,” she echoed. “You want socks and a new rack for your truck for Christmas. That’s the lousiest Christmas wish list I’ve ever heard.”
He grinned. “Don’t forget the Maserati. Your turn.”
She took another bite of ice cream and slowly licked the spoon clean, torturing Lucas with her tongue so much he nearly jerked the plastic utensil out of her hand.
“When you laughed,” she finally said in a low voice, “you looked very, very sexy. Satisfied?”
“Not nearly,” he said and gave in to what he’d wanted to do all evening. He took her impudent, sassy, drive-him-crazy mouth with his.
With Lucas’s lips on hers, Amy felt herself melt into the leather seat. The texture of his mouth was both firm and supple, irresistibly sensual. He nibbled at her with his lips as if he wanted to consume her. His tongue slid over hers, invading, inviting. He tasted like ice cream, felt like sin, and she drew his tongue more deeply into her mouth.
She was peripherally aware that Lucas moved the nearly empty carton of ice cream from her hand and pushed back his seat. Before she knew it, he pulled her onto his lap. One of his hands slid up her thighs, and her head began to spin.
The kiss turned carnal, cranking up her internal heat. He shifted so that his hardness intimately rubbed where she grew damp and swollen. He guided her bottom in a primitive mind-robbing rhythm that snatched her breath and good sense.
“This is crazy,” she breathed, but opened her mouth for his kiss.
“Damn, you get me hot.” He squeezed her bottom and groaned again, this time in frustration. “Panty hose should be outlawed.”
Pulling back, he stared into her with eyes nearly black with arousal. “I want you,” he said, his rough bluntness sending a shocking but euphoric adrenaline through her veins.
He lowered his lids, and his outrageous eyelashes concealed his expression. “I want you naked in my bed. Under me. I want inside you.”
His raw need echoed inside her. She moaned as he took her mouth again for a quick, illicit caress.
“If it weren’t the dead of winter, I would take you right now in this damn truck,” he muttered.
The urgency coursing through her turned her equilibrium upside down. Lucas had no idea how much his agreement to find moose tracks ice cream had weakened her defenses. It was a small thing, but his determination to plea
se her filled her head with crazy thoughts. Thoughts like maybe, just maybe, if Lucas wanted her, maybe he could grow to love her. Maybe he could grow to need her.
Dangerous thoughts, but now, in his arms with matching need pulsing from him to her, Amy couldn’t turn him away. “Maybe we should go back to the house,” she said.
His gaze met hers. “You need to know that I’ll do everything I can to get you in my bed. No-holds-barred.”
Her stomach danced at the possibilities. She inhaled deeply. “You make me curious what no-holds-barred means.”
“Hang around and you’ll find out,” he promised, reluctantly returning her to her seat. “Nothing will stop me except you.”
He put the car in gear and drove toward his house. They said little, the air in the truck heavy with anticipation. He slid his hand behind her nape and caressed her with his fingers while he drove. Stopping the vehicle just before he turned onto his driveway, he tilted her chin upward while he lowered his mouth to hers for a scorching kiss that left no doubt of his need and intent.
A trickle of nerves skittered through Amy. “What about Flora?”
“She sleeps through everything.”
Except a call from the emergency room, Amy learned within three minutes. Dressed in her robe, Flora greeted them at the door with the telephone in her hand.
“My niece has gone to the emergency room. She was in terrible pain. They don’t know what’s wrong with her.”
“Which niece?” Lucas asked.
“Valerie. She has five children and—”
“Lives on the other side of St. Louis,” Lucas recalled.
Flora nodded. “Her mother died a few years ago, and I don’t have any children, so Valerie and I have become much closer. I realize I’ll never take my sister’s place, but if she needs me, then I will have to go.”
Lucas squeezed Flora’s shoulder. “If Valerie and her family need you, then I’ll understand. I know you’re upset, but you don’t have all the information yet. You may get another call telling you she’s fine.”
Flora gave a long sigh. “You’re right. I’m still worried, but you’re right. You have to be the most rational, levelheaded man in the state.”
Lucas looked at Amy, his gaze filled with irony, and she could see that he was thinking about how both of them had been anything but levelheaded just an hour ago when he’d wanted to make love in his truck. With Flora’s crisis, Amy knew she and Lucas wouldn’t be sharing a bed tonight. His gaze, however, promised the time would come.
Flora wrinkled her brown. “Where’s your coat?” she asked Amy.
Heat rising to her cheeks, Amy didn’t dare look at Lucas. She shrugged. “Crazy, but I walked right out of Debra’s house without it.” Diverting attention away from herself, Amy motioned toward the kitchen. “Let me fix you something to drink while you wait for your call.”
“Oh, no,” Flora protested, but allowed Amy to fix her a cup of herbal tea. Lucas and Amy kept Flora company until early morning. When both of them urged her to get some rest, Flora shook her head, insisting she couldn’t sleep until she received word on her niece’s condition.
Amy climbed the stairs to her guest room and pushed open the door. Lucas snagged her wrist and gently whirled her around to face him. He lowered his head and gave her a kiss that made her dizzy. Or maybe her dizziness was due to the lateness of the hour. Wishful thinking.
“This was just a temporary delay,” he told her in a velvet voice that stroked her secret places.
“Or an opportunity to gain a little sanity,” she said.
“Can you honestly say you don’t want me?” he dared her.
“No, but—” She inhaled deeply and the scent of his aftershave slid past her protests. “But I can’t honestly say it would be rational or levelheaded, either.”
“You’re right. It wouldn’t,” he said, running his finger over her bottom lip.
Amy barely resisted the urge to slide her tongue over his finger. She’d like to see him as off-kilter as she felt.
“It sure as hell won’t be sensible. It will just be unforgettable.” He dropped his finger from her mouth, but his gaze lingered on her lips. “’Night, Amy.”
She swallowed over her dry throat. “G’night,” she said, and wondered how she could say no to this man. Especially when everything inside her wanted to say yes.
The following morning, Flora learned her niece had suffered appendicitis. The emergency surgery was a success, but her niece would still need help for a few days, so Flora left and assured Lucas she would return as soon as she could.
Not long after Lucas left to tend to the stock and Flora left for her niece’s house, the snow began to fall. Amy put a pot of homemade chowder on the burner and did some last-minute shopping on the Internet.
The day wore on, and the snow continued to fall. Amy checked the weather forecast and heard the weatherman admit he had missed the mark with his prediction for a light winter snow. Kent, Missouri, was being hit with a blizzard.
As the hours passed, Amy told herself not to worry about Lucas. If any man could handle himself in a crisis, it was Lucas. When she looked out the window at the whiteout conditions, though, a knot formed in her stomach. What if he had hurt himself and couldn’t get back?
Day turned to night, and Amy watched and worried. She ate a bowl of chicken corn chowder. Taking comfort in Cleo, she rubbed her cat and listened for the door. When the clock struck eight o’clock, she couldn’t stand the images in her mind of Lucas hurt and freezing. Putting on so many layers of clothing she could barely walk, she grabbed a lantern and stomped through the fresh-fallen snow.
Lucas finished securing the horse barn for the harsh weather and stretched his back. He always kept a skeleton crew in the winter, and during Christmas most of his ranch hands visited their families. Ordinarily Lucas welcomed the distraction of long hours during the holidays, so he didn’t mind the lack of help. This year, a different distraction burned inside him. This year, a warm woman waited for him in his home. He’d slept alone too long.
The door to the barn swung open, making him jump. Someone wrapped up like a mummy appeared in the doorway. A hat covered the head, a scarf shielded the face.
“What the hell—”
“I was worried about you,” Amy said in a voice muffled by the scarf. She lowered the scarf slightly. “You were gone a long time and the snow kept falling, and I was afraid you were hurt and freezing to death.”
His heart swelled at her concern. “I’ve been through plenty of these winters. I know how to handle myself.”
She lifted a shoulder uncertainly. “I know, but just in case.”
He shook his head. “You’re not exactly Amazon Woman. What did you think you could do?”
“Rescue you?” she ventured doubtfully.
He turned his head and looked up at the barn ceiling for help from on high. “You shouldn’t have come out. You could have gotten lost. It’s not like you could carry me.”
“I might be able to drag you,” she said, lifting her chin a millimeter. “What was I supposed to do—leave you hurt and freezing to death?”
“I wasn’t hurt or freezing.”
“How was I supposed to know that?”
Unaccustomed to having anyone check on him, he opened his mouth, then closed it. “You were supposed to trust that I can handle myself.”
“That thought did occur to me.”
“That’s good to know,” Lucas said dryly as he pulled on his gloves.
“But I just couldn’t stand the idea of you hurt and freezing to death.”
She was so wrong, but so earnest. Feeling an odd tug in his chest, he chuckled despite his frustration. “Next time just sit tight. I’ll be okay. Now let’s get back to the house.”
As they walked through the windy, snowy night, his houselights shined like a beacon in the darkness. Lucas noticed Amy seemed to struggle with her progress through the snow. “You need me to carry you?”
In mummy mode again, s
he shook her head. “I’m okay, just slow. I put on a couple extra layers, and it’s a little bulky,” she said in a muffled voice. “Isn’t your face freezing?”
“Nah. I haven’t been out in the snow for a while.”
“You don’t look like you have on many clothes for a blizzard.”
He chuckled to himself. “Looks like I can borrow from you if I need anything.”
Slowing, she lowered her scarf a tad and glared at him. “You don’t have to be smug.”
“I’m warm-natured.”
Her gaze darkened in feminine mystery. “Must be nice.”
“Comes in handy in the winter.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said, and the husky tone in her voice affected his anatomy in a way that he’d previously considered impossible in a blizzard.
He helped her make a stiff-legged climb up the front porch steps. “You cleared the steps,” he said, surprised.
“I kept coming out to sweep with the broom, so it didn’t have a chance to accumulate.”
He opened the door and immediately caught a whiff of something mouthwatering. “What do I smell?”
“Chicken corn chowder.”
His stomach growled in protest of his hunger.
Amy stomped the snow off her boots, stepped inside the door and began to peel off her clothes. First the gloves and scarf, then the hat, then the jacket. She pulled her wool sweater over her head and her red hair crackled with electricity. Next she ditched her wind pants, sweatpants, and tugged off her turtleneck. She stood before him in a long sleeve black silk T-shirt and a pair of black stretch pants.
Lucas glanced down at the pile of clothes in amazement. “No wonder you couldn’t walk,” he muttered. “Well?” he said expectantly.
“Well what?”
“Don’t stop now.”
Chapter Six
Amy’s heart somersaulted at the predatory look in Lucas’s eyes. This man was hungry for more than food. She pulled off two of three pairs of socks and regarded him carefully. “I’ll get your bowl of chowder,” she said and high-tailed it to the kitchen, fanning her face as she stepped out of his sight.
