by Kate Thomas
As carefully but as quickly as possible, Dani slid down the path to the big boulder, then scrambled past it to peer at—Oh, God. It was a car. In the creek. Caught for the moment against her boulder’s twin out in midstream.
The furious, foaming runoff was trying to pull it away from the rock and drag it downstream. If she was going to rescue the passengers, she’d have to act quickly.
Maybe there isn’t anyone inside. Dani grasped at the possibility. Maybe they’d gotten out. Maybe the car had broken down—like her truck—and been abandoned. Maybe she didn’t have to risk the baby....
Biting her lip, Dani aimed the flashlight beam at the vehicle. A dark human shape slumped over the steering wheel.
“Well, that makes it simple,” she muttered, tucking the flashlight into her windbreaker. She tied one end of the rope around the yucca tree and the other end under her breasts, took a deep breath and waded into the torrent.
Letting the rough current push her toward and around the rear of the car, Dani grabbed for and found a handhold on the midstream boulder. After crawling awkwardly to its top, she inched along it, wiping the now-occasional raindrop from her eyes. And babbling, she realized as she reached a spot near the front of the car. That idiot pleading and praying aloud was her.
Okay. God probably has the idea. Now do your part.
Pulling out the flashlight, Dani pointed it at the still figure in the car. The ray of light showed only a few details clearly: the gleam of dark gold hair, a firm jaw, and broad, unmistakably male shoulders. His eyes were closed, but... Dani steadied the shaking beam and peered through the raindrops beading the windshield. Yes, the man’s chest moved. He was unconscious, but alive.
Dani’s sigh of thanksgiving became a groan as the flashlight revealed another problem. There was water inside the vehicle, already lapping over the console. Clamping her jaws together, Dani put away the flashlight. The man in the car was going to die unless she did something. Now.
The top of the boulder was littered with loose rocks. Picking up the biggest one, Dani lifted it over her head, aimed it at the windshield and let fly. She repeated the process until the glass starred, then heaved the rock one more time. As the spray of safety-glass nuggets subsided, Dani leaned down and peered through the opening she’d created to get a better look at the man she was trying to rescue.
Heat coiled deep inside her. Completely inappropriate reaction, she told herself. But just as completely undeniable.
Okay, so cope with it. And get back to work.
Despite her urgency, Dani couldn’t help studying the man for a few long seconds. He was unrelentingly male. Exceedingly handsome. Even unconscious, he exuded a sense of leashed power, like a sleeping cougar.
And she had to get him out of the car before he drowned.
But how? The man looked to be a muscular six-footer, she was a very pregnant five-three. She couldn’t even get her hand far enough inside the car to touch him.
Dani tugged on her lower lip for a second.
Then, taking a deep breath, she did the only thing she could think of. She started shouting.
Regret was still there as a thought slowly emerged from the blackness. So this... is...being dead.
Josh struggled to form another thought, but—What was that infernal noise?
“Dam it, wake up! Come on, mister. Open your eyes!”
With a groan, he obeyed. Where—Was he in a car? The windshield looked like a silvery net—except for a hole on the right side.
Through the opening, he could see a light. He’d heard about that. He was supposed to go toward it, wasn’t he?
A face appeared, floating in the light. A beautiful face. Soft glowing skin, a wide luscious mouth, huge greenish eyes. Surrounded by a fuzzy, burnished halo. An angel. Straight out of della Robbia.
“That’s it. Wake up.”
Josh blinked. One or two angels. He couldn’t tell for sure. Their edges blurred and melded as they gestured frantically. He closed his eyes. Better.
“Are you hurt?”
Sensation crept to the front of his awareness. He was cold. Wet, And...everything hurt. Especially his head.
“Answer me!” She sounded scared.
Huh? Angels weren’t afraid, were they?
“C-can you move?” This one was. Palpably.
Through the reverberating pain, Josh knew he ought to ease the angel’s anxiety. “Yes, ma’am....” He flapped a hand to demonstrate his mobility.
“Come on, then! There’s no time to waste. Crawl out through the windshield.”
No. His head would explode if he moved. Better just stay here.... “Don’t want to,” Josh mumbled.
“I didn’t ask you if you want to, mister. I told you to move. Now do it!”
Bossy damned angel, Josh thought grumpily, but began to inch his body up the steering wheel at her insistent nagging, gritting his teeth against the waves of pain that washed over him.
A couple of eternities later, Josh heaved himself over the dashboard and partially through the windshield opening. It seemed to be lined with blue nylon. A small angelic hand grabbed a wad of shirt and added its upward pressure to his efforts.
Eventually, he lay on rough, wet rock.
His rescuer sat beside him, breathing raggedly.
Breathing. Not an angel, then. Real. Me, too.... Yes, now it seemed obvious. He was still alive.
For one thing, he hurt too much to be dead.
Josh opened his eyes briefly and stared at a shapely nearby ankle. He wondered vaguely who it belonged to. But he couldn’t focus right now. On anything, except—“Thanks.” He let his eyelids fall shut again, hoping to ease the dizziness.
“Don’t thank me yet.” The words were tinged with a soft Southern accent—and more concern.
“Why not?” Josh countered, although he barely managed to form the words through the whirling in his head. “You got me out of the car. You saved my life.”
“Not yet.”
“Close enough.” Keeping his eyes shut, Josh pressed his cheek contentedly against the stone. A little rain didn’t bother him. He’d just take a short nap and...
A faint whiff of flowers and woman alerted him to her closeness. Then his rescuer’s hands were gentle as they smoothed over his limbs and fingered a lump on his temple.
Her heart, however, was as hard as surgical steel. Her next words proved it. “You’re soaked,” the woman barked. “And this is the desert—with night comin’ on fast. You ever heard of hypothermia, mister? Get up!”
Damn the woman! Okay, he owed her his life, but—
Josh pulled himself to his knees. And threw up. “Sorry,” he croaked after his stomach stopped cartwheeling.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, amusement now warming her tone. “I’ve sure done my share of that.”
Josh didn’t get the joke. It didn’t matter; a second later, Ms. Stormtrooper dragged him to his feet Made him slosh a hundred miles or so through a snarling stream. Forced him to stagger uphill for a couple of centuries....
He threw up again. Conquered a tall step. Crossed a creaking floor. Wondered why heaven smelled like corn bread, then remembered he was still in Texas.
The gentle hands touched him again and his clothes went away....
Then he was warm and dry and lying on something soft. In the distance he heard his rescuer tell him not to go to sleep. Every time he opened his eyes, though, the room started spinning. Darkness like thick, black cotton pressed in around him.
But he was alive. He’d been given a second chance. Josh felt a smile curve his mouth. Okay, he’d admit it. His life had seemed empty lately. But that could change. Would change. Because now he had time to fill the emptiness.
“Thanks,” he whispered. “Thanks again.”
With a slow sigh, Josh let the blackness claim him....
Chapter Two
Dani’s elbow slipped off the armrest—her eyes flew open. Darn, she’d drifted off again. Sunlight streamed through the window over t
he sink. Oh, no... It had still been dark outside the last time she’d checked on her unexpected guest.
With a soft grunt, Dani maneuvered herself out of the battered armchair, then quietly crossed the narrow cabin floor to look at the man in her bed.
That ribbon of heat coiled through her again.
It was ridiculous, but with the heavy beard shadowing his hard jaw, he was even more attractive this morning than he’d been last night. When I undressed him.
The heat got hotter; the ribbon coiled tighter.
She could still feel his sleek, hard muscles and the smooth, taut skin she’d encountered when she’d peeled off his wet clothes. Still see the broad expanse of his shoulders, his flat stomach, his narrow hips. Her fingertips still tingled from the crisp hair on his chest and legs and around—
Dani stopped the tantalizing recital with a wry grimace. She’d undressed Jimmy plenty of times after he’d started coming in drunk every night, she reminded herself. It was no big deal.
Well, actually, this man’s was....
Oh, just make sure he’s not in a coma, Dani told herself, and carefully lifted one eyelid, then the other. With a sigh of relief, she noted that the pupils, unequal when she’d begun checking last night, were now the same size and reacted to the morning light.
Gently, Dani let the second lid drop. It hardly seemed fair. This man with the magnificent body and boldly masculine features—and a car that, even wrecked, was worth more than her truck running—this man also had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. They were a rich, vibrant turquoise—the color of the Caribbean sea on travel posters.
Jimmy’s eyes had been brown. Just brown. Like his hair. And he’d never had a chance to outgrow the gangly adolescent stage; his low-life friends had seen to that.
Dani allowed herself one short sigh for what-might-have-been. Even though her romantic illusions had been crushed by reality long before Jimmy died, she would have made a satisfactory life out of raising her children and providing her husband with a warm, welcoming home. If she’d had the chance.
But Jimmy had chosen booze and self-pity instead of her. And all her love, concern and caring hadn’t helped him grow up. Or kept him home.
And it still hurt....
Well, at least she knew better than to ever get involved again. Romance was just a liability now, a distraction she couldn’t afford.
Still... Yielding to temptation, Dani smoothed back a strand of thick, honey-gold hair. The heartbreaker in her bed simply oozed raw male power and sensuality—even while he was asleep! He must have women throwing themselves at him from all directions.
And how many have you caught, Mr. Joshua Michael Walker? Dani recalled the Virginia driver’s license she’d found in his wallet when she’d looked for an information card listing next of kin—just in case.
Michael... She’d been considering that name for a boy. Emily, if it was a girl... Plenty of time to decide once it’s here, she told herself, absently massaging a dull ache low in her back as she turned and headed for the cabin’s tiny bathroom. She’d get cleaned up and start breakfast, she decided, before waking her guest.
As usual, the lack of hot water speeded Dani through her morning routine, but as she changed into clean clothes and tugged the shirt over her rounded abdomen, she frowned. The baby was awfully quiet this morning.
At least her backache was gone. Maybe the rest of her problems would disappear that easily, too.
After quietly liberating a saucepan from the small stack of dishes on the drainboard, she measured water into it and set it on the stove. Then, while the water heated, she tried to figure out how to send her visitor on his way before he asked any awkward questions.
Dani smoothed her hand over her precious cargo, but inspiration still didn’t come. The Queen of Coping’s drawing a blank today.
The lid on the saucepan started to jitter. Grateful for the distraction, Dani shook oats into the boiling water and began stirring. With her other hand, she rubbed the ache that had returned to her lower back.
By the time the oatmeal was ready for the last of her brown sugar and raisins, the pain had faded again. But the baby still hadn’t kicked. Dani bit her lip as she added the flavorings to the hot cereal. If something was wrong... If anything happened to her baby...
Dani stirred harder, trying to dissolve the fear suddenly choking her.
Even before the soft sounds and oddly familiar smell opened his eyes, Josh remembered... everything. The flash flood. Being banged around like the tennis ball in a championship match. The angel who’d ordered him out of his sinking car. Being cold and wet, then warm and dry.
He’d been lucky, that was for damned sure. But... Now what?
One part of him wanted to forget the whole near-death experience and just slide back into his old routine.
But another part insisted he remember what he’d discovered: something was missing from his life. Okay, but—Josh grimaced at the rough ceiling overhead.
But nothing, he told himself. Only fools waste second chances. And any fool could tell you how to fill that emptiness inside.
“Hell,” he whispered to the lumber overhead. He still wanted a baby, but the biology hadn’t changed in the past six years: fatherhood still required a woman’s participation. And after Carrie, he could never trust a woman enough to share such an intimate bond.
Which meant no babies for Josh Walker.
Well, there were other meaningful things in life.
Find someone... help them. His sister-in-law’s advice floated through his brain again. Okay, when he got home, he’d see about signing up to tutor poor kids or something.
“Oh, good. You’re awake.”
His lips quirking at the unintentional irony, Josh glanced up. And rational thought disappeared, buried in an explosive, visceral male reaction he’d never before experienced.
Yesterday’s angel stood over him, her soft, full lips curved in a sweet smile that made him long to trace her mouth with his finger, then with his own lips, then plunder the moist, warm depths with his tongue....
Shocked by the intensity of his desire, Josh blinked, then blinked again as her thick braid slid forward over her shoulder to dangle an inch from his nose. The rope of hair glowed like polished maple; his hand itched to take its silky weight.
“How do you feel?” she asked, her green eyes clouded with concern.
Very alive. Very male. Very ready to prove it.
Trying to slow his pounding pulse, Josh took a deep breath and caught her scent: sweetness and soap and... woman. It made him ache, then turn on his side to hide his body’s instant response.
“Fine, Ms.—I’m sorry I don’t know your name,” he mumbled, fighting desperately to regain control. This didn’t happen to him.
But it was.
“Dani Caldwell,” the woman said, then bit her lip. “Please—forget you heard that.”
“Whatever you want, Dani,” he agreed. “You saved my life. Words seem pretty inadequate, but—thanks.” I wonder if her skin feels as soft as it looks. As he propped himself up on one elbow, Josh’s free hand moved toward his rescuer.
The woman stepped back. Good. Maybe he could think straight if she wasn’t close enough to caress.
Josh tore his gaze from his rescuer’s angelic face. Looked downward. “You’re pregnant!”
“I believe you’re right.” Her grin invited him to share her joy.
Like hell. “What in damnation were you thinking of, lady?” he demanded, sitting up and wadding the blanket with clenched fists to keep from shaking the little idiot. “You could have harmed your baby! Where the hell’s your husband? What kind of knucklehead lets his wife risk his unborn child by charging headlong into raging floodwaters? He ought to—” “He’s dead.”
“He can’t,” Dani interrupted. “He’s dead.”
Josh stared at her, shocked speechless. He’d spent years grieving beneath his icy outer layer because—thanks to Carrie’s betrayat—he would never hold his ba
by. This woman carried a child who would never know its father’s protective embrace. “Oh, God, Dani,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
She stood looking at him for a moment, her eyes dark and distant, one hand slowly rubbing her back. “Well, ‘sorry’ never changed facts,” she said at last, “but...thanks.
“They should be dry now, so here. Get dressed.” Scooping up a pile of clothes draped over the foot of the bed, she dumped them on his lap. Which was a tad sensitive—since he was still more than a tad aroused.
Josh grabbed the clothes in self-defense. “Th-thank you.”
As he sorted through the apparel, Dani turned toward the stove. Her braid hung almost to her waist, he noticed. Then had to clamp a lid on heated images of her above him with it loose, streaming over her breasts, brushing his—She’s a grieving widow, Josh reminded himself as he shoved his legs into stiff jeans. Carrying proof of her love.
“Breakfast is ready. I hope you like oatmeal.”
She didn’t act grief-stricken, but she had a right to handle her sorrow her own way. Josh knew from his own bitter experience that talking never changed anything, anyway. And he was starving, but—“Oatmeal? I’d rather have eggs and bacon. Biscuits and honey.”
“Me, too.” At Dani’s low laugh, Josh’s thoughts of food were replaced by another sort of hunger.
Facts were the best weapon against dangerous feelings. He knew that from experience, too. “How old are you?” he blurted, desperate to control his inappropriate response to this woman.
“Twenty-three,” she answered, spreading her fingers over her beach ball stomach and frowning.
She looked younger. Made him feel ancient. “How long ago did your—”
“Six months. Now, about breakfast, Mr. Walker...”
“Call me Josh.” He wanted his name on those lush lips. Instead of painful memories. “But how did you—”
“I looked in your wallet.” She turned so quickly, her braid went flying. “Everything’s still there.”
