by Sasha Gold
“Yes, but they’re getting into bed. Syd promised she’d blow it out soon.”
“Soon?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Good. Because soon means now.”
She lifted her brows in surprise. Victoria probably would let the children do whatever they liked. Not him. One mishap with an open flame could send the whole cabin up in flames. Then what?
He pushed past her, ignoring her scent, the one that reminded him of flowers and the way her eyes brightened when she was amused. Everything about her left his self-control in tatters.
Charlie lay by the fire and lifted his head when Clay crossed the room.
“Maybe I should come sleep with you,” Clay muttered.
The kids’ heavy wooden door was closed and the flickering candlelight shimmered in the gap below. He knocked.
“Yes.”
Clay pushed the door open. The children’s beds were a pair of bunks, covered in brightly colored quilts. Ross had slung his arm over the top railing and didn’t move. Clay smiled. The boy had worked hard, toting luggage back to the cabin. A soft snore filled the bedroom. Sydney lay in the bottom bunk, a book in her hands, tilted towards the light of the single candle on her bedside table.
He moved to the windows, making sure they were latched and peered outside. He’d been stranded before, but always in the desert of some Middle Eastern country, not in the frozen Arctic. And each time he’d been stuck in some hell-hole, he’d either been alone or with fellow soldiers. Never with a woman and two children.
He glanced at Sydney and she smiled pleasantly at him. He suppressed a growl. The girl was a little smart ass on top of being a nature-hater. Her brother was a smart ass and insubordinate.
He imagined getting their complaining butts out of bed at dawn and making them do push-ups and chin-ups and then a little five-mile run before breakfast. That would straighten them up quick-like. Victoria, on the other hand, would probably love a five-mile run.
Sydney lifted her book to show him the cover. “I’m reading Little House in the Woods.”
Clay looked around the room. Clearly the room belonged to children. Shelves lined the far wall, housing what had to be hundreds of books. Stuffed animals, polar bears, penguins and walruses filled the top of the built-in bookcase.
“They have the whole collection,” Sydney said. “I’ve never read it before. I love it!”
“Great. You can read some more in the morning. I’m confiscating the candle.”
Her lips parted with what he was sure would be an argument, but he stopped her protest before it got any steam. Lifting the candle, he snuffed the flame by snuffing it with his palm. The room plunged into darkness.
“But…” Sydney said.
“But nothing. Goodnight. I’m down the hallway if you need something from me or Victoria.”
“Like a candle, maybe?” she asked.
“Anything but a candle.”
He shut the door behind him and returned to the den. The fire blazed brightly. The living area was in the middle of the L-shaped cabin. Even if one of the children woke in the hours before dawn, the central part of the house would give enough light for them to make their way down the far hallway. He tossed a few extra logs on the fire and returned to his room with Sydney’s candle.
Victoria sat in the middle of the bigger bed, dressed in her silken pajamas, pulling a pair of his socks on her feet. “I stole a pair of your socks.”
“Yeah?” His voice was gruff, an immediate reaction to the way the soft material clung to her breasts, how it draped over her narrow waist and flared at her hips. He eyed her as she tugged the too-big sock over her delicate foot.
He stared at her foot. Even her arch was sexy. He’d run his hands over her feet that afternoon when he tried to warm them and battled raging lust from the way she’d squirmed beneath his touch. Now he was in the same room with the woman who had been his obsession since he’d first seen her. He wanted to press her back to the soft quilt, to finally taste her lips.
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Hope you don’t mind.”
He swallowed and tried to summon some restraint. He didn’t dare move closer. “I don’t mind, Victoria. You can have anything you want.”
She snickered, took the other sock and bunched it up in her hands. “I just want your socks.”
He shut the door behind him and leaned against it. “And the bigger bed.”
“I’ll trade you,” she said, her voice teasing. “If you tell the wolves to stop howling.”
He nodded and wrestled with the primitive need coiling inside him. “All right.”
She lifted her gaze. “And if you make sure all of us get out of here. Tomorrow, or at least soon.”
Her comment made him think of the Para-Rescue mantra. Words he’d practically branded across his heart. So that others may live… How many rescue missions had he led? Scores of them, and even though he’d practically promised Sydney help would come tomorrow, he wasn’t sure.
His gut was telling him something different. It seemed like he’d crash-landed the plane days or even weeks ago. Time shifted and warped when a person was dropped in a life-or-death situation.
Victoria gave him a teasing smile, part amusement and part sheepish for her earlier comment about Amelia Earhart, he supposed. Her smile sent a shockwave through him. As he looked into her eyes he realized he’d never had so much to lose. The two children. Victoria. In the space of a few hours, his world had shrunk to three people.
Chapter Seven
Victoria
The wolf’s howl jerked Victoria from her sleep for the third time that night. Clay lay sprawled in his bed, sound asleep, oblivious to the danger lurking around the cabin. When he’d blown out the candle, she’d been aware of him lying in a bed a few feet from hers. His presence made her emotions cycle between relief and alarm.
She got out of bed and padded to the window. The moon shone over the bleak landscape, making the snow gleam. The wolf sounded as though it was nearby. What she needed was her Bose headphones, the ones she used for plane travel. They were buried somewhere in her suitcases and while it wouldn’t be comfortable, she’d get more sleep wearing them.
Something in the other part of the cabin stirred and her thoughts raced to the children. If the howling frightened her, then there was a good chance they were terrified. She gave Clay a resentful glance, but paused to admire the span of his shoulders. He slept in a pair of sweat pants. Bare-chested. His heroic proportions made her want to linger a little longer, but her conscience tugged at her.
Hurrying to the children’s bedroom, she passed Charlie who slept as soundly as his master. The children’s room was silent, but she waited a few moments, to be certain that they slept undisturbed by the howling.
Their soft breathing filled the room. In the moonlight, she glimpsed Ross’s foot sticking off the end of the bed. Sydney lay on the bottom bunk, curled into a ball. She looked tiny and vulnerable and Victoria’s heart squeezed with a pang that surprised her. She didn’t know Sydney, but they’d survived the nightmare of the plane crash. It was the sort of thing that bonded people, she supposed.
That afternoon, Victoria helped the girl get settled in the bedroom. Sydney alternated between terror that they’d never be found, and how she’d shock all her girlfriends with the story of the crash. Sydney never seemed to stay with one feeling for long. She’d given her brother grief about being a slob, mentioned hating him no less than three times, but fretted when Ross and Clay took too long returning from the crash site.
The girl was impossible, and yet, Victoria loved talking with her and listening to her chatter about her life. Sydney loved school, but didn’t get along with all her teachers. She adored her parents, but since they’d separated, had fought with both non-stop. She thought she was fat and she was certain she was ugly, but not as fat and ugly as her ex-friend Winnie. Victoria smiled as she watched the girl. Sydney was a whirlwind of emotions.
Both Sydney and Ross slept and she needed to s
leep too. She turned away from the bedroom, crossed the cabin and in the darkened hallway leading to her room, ran directly into Clay. His hand came down over her mouth, silencing her.
“Don’t yell, Victoria.” His voice was rough from sleep. “I’m taking my hand away now and I don’t want to hear a sound. You’ll scare the kids if you scream. Nod if you understand.”
She nodded. Her heart jack hammered in her chest. Adrenalin surged through her veins.
He dropped his hands. “What are you doing?”
“I was checking on the children,” she snapped. “There’s been a lot of wolves howling. One woke me up and I wanted to see if they were frightened.”
“Next time wake me up.”
“You scared the shit out of me.”
In the darkness, she heard him give a huff and imagined him smiling. She wanted to smack him for grabbing her but her skin prickled from his touch. The hallway was pitch-black and she could see nothing, but she felt him. In the darkness, she sensed his powerful build and his protective demeanor. Not only that, but his scent washed over her. Masculine. Enticing. She’d never had a man’s scent affect her in this way.
She wanted to complain about his bossy tone in addition to smacking him. Next time wake me up. There wouldn’t be a next time, she wanted to shoot back. They’d be leaving in the morning or maybe in the afternoon. Whenever help came. So he could quit ordering her around. He’d been issuing commands since they’d arrived at the cabin. Stalking around like he was in charge and she and the children were his minions.
But she also wanted to step closer. And sniff him. And she wondered what was wrong with her, because she never had that reaction to a man. Ever.
“Did the wolves scare you?” he asked, his tone gentle.
“A little. Maybe.”
“You’re safe inside the cabin.”
“I wanted to find my noise-cancelling headset. I usually pack them.”
For some reason, he found that funny. “Would it help if you weren’t alone in your bed?”
A spark of awareness flared inside her core. Sleep with Clay? She should refuse. Where would something like that lead? And why was she even considering the offer. Lurid images filled her mind, images of rolling slowly, limbs entwined with Clay, their bodies bathed in silvery moonlight, his mouth on her neck. His muscles rippling as he pinned her beneath him. His strong hands skimming over her naked body, cupping her breasts.
“Maybe,” she breathed.
“Yeah?”
His sexy voice washed over her.
They probably only had one night in the cabin. In the morning, the search and rescue teams would arrive. Clay might visit her in Napa. Earlier she’d freaked out a bit, thinking he was following her to Napa, but now she found herself hoping very much that he would, but he might not.
“I do think it would help me sleep better,” she said.
“I should warn you about something.” His words sounded slightly ominous, even though his tone was pure seduction.
“Okay.” She gave a breathless laugh. “What?”
“Charlie snores. And he hogs the bed.”
“Charlie…” Why was he talking about the dog? He was fast asleep in the other room.
“It gets worse, actually.”
She shook her head. He was teasing her. How had she walked right into that? “I’m not sleeping with Charlie.”
“It’s either him or me. Take your pick.”
“You…?”
“All right.”
“Just till I fall asleep.” She felt ridiculous asking him to stay with her till she fell asleep. She’d never asked anyone to do that before, not even as a child.
He ran his fingers down her arm, found her hand and led her back to the room. Shivers rolled down her spine. His warm hand enveloped hers. This was just for tonight, she told herself.
When he led her to her bed, the bigger of the two, she didn’t hesitate. She got in, scooted to the side and let him settle beside her. They lay a foot apart, both on their back, staring at the ceiling.
“There’s liquor in the pantry,” he said. “Do you want a little shot of something to help you relax?”
“No, thank you. You go ahead if you like.”
“I’m not having a drink while we’re in this cabin. I need to keep my wits about me.”
“Since you’re in charge.” She couldn’t resist giving him a little push-back about his domineering ways, even though he was being sweet. For now.
He turned and gave her a hard look. “That’s right.”
She rolled to her side. “Technically you work for me. Right?”
“I don’t work for you, sweetheart. I’m an independent contractor, hired by your mother and that contract is over now.”
His voice was rough and sent a shiver of awareness through her. She was used to people backing down when she mentioned her position within her mother’s company. Clay wasn’t one to back down from anything or anyone.
She shrugged a shoulder. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”
“There’s one boss, here. Me.”
Good grief. This guy liked his power trips.
“Sure,” she said with a sigh.
His eyes narrowed, daring her to challenge him. She sighed, making a mental note not to poke Clay, The Beast, Bergstrom. He could be charming one moment and impossible the next. They lay in silence, the only sound coming from the wind outside.
He shifted in the bed. “Is this better?”
“Yes, actually. Thank you.”
“Good.”
“I just want all of us to be safe,” she said.
“We are. I promise.”
“I especially want to keep those kids safe. I feel like they’re our responsibility.”
“They are.”
“Their parents must be losing their minds,” she said.
Her own mother would be hysterical, at least on the inside. Mother never showed her emotions even when tragedy struck. She was always stoic. When she fell apart it was behind closed doors.
“And the pilot’s family too,” she said, sadly. “He probably had a wife and kids.”
Clay didn’t reply.
“Did you know him?”
“A little.” He rose from the bed and went to the window.
“What is it?”
“I need to do something with that body tomorrow. I wanted to take care of it today, but ran out of daylight.”
She closed her eyes and shivered. Clay returned to the bed, and laid down keeping himself a polite distance from her. She rolled on her side and studied his handsome profile. He was thickly muscled, not like a body-builder, but like a man who used his body for hard work. His body was hewn from training and his livelihood. Not a gym.
He must think she was unbalanced. And yet, he still took care of her. Offering his coat in the plane. Lying close to her when she’d become frightened of the wolves.
“You’re very nice to me,” she whispered.
He smiled. “Does that make up for being too tall?”
She laughed softly. “Maybe.”
“Is that the only reason you didn’t come last night?”
“No. I have issues. You know how people like to act like they don’t. Well I do. I had something happen when I was younger. Nothing brutal, but enough to make me a little squirrelly.”
“Squirrelly?” She heard the smile in his voice. “I love squirrels. Tell me about your squirrels, Victoria.”
“Let’s just say I’m not girlfriend material.”
“When I come to Napa I’ll prove you wrong.”
Lying together in the moonlight felt nice, wonderful, in fact. There was something about surviving a plane crash that put so many things into perspective.
“I was going to come to Napa and take you to see an opera,” he said.
She blinked, wondering if she’d just heard him correctly. “An opera?”
“Yes.”
She’d only seen a few operas, but she loved them. Last week, she’d talked to one of
the hotel guests about Madame Butterfly. They’d been seated at the same dinner table, and the meal wound down over coffee and dessert. At the time, she knew he was listening to her, keeping his gaze fixed upon her, but she hadn’t realized he’d been listening.
“Madame Butterfly,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She knew exactly what he’d done and it made her heart squeeze.
“That’s the one.”
“All right,” she said. “When we go to Napa, I’ll go see Madame Butterfly with you.” She closed her eyes, relaxed and let sleep come for her.
Chapter Eight
Clay
Clay woke before sunrise in his own bed, with the faintest morning light seeping through the windows. He’d wanted to stay near her all night, but knew better than to tempt himself. He was in control, always, but he’d never had to battle his own desires like he did with Victoria. How tempting would it be to draw her into his arms and hold her? She lay in the other bed, her long hair cast around her head like a halo. Her chest rising and falling steadily as she slept. His cock was hard. Admiring the curve of her breasts in the morning light didn’t help.
He pulled out of bed and dressed in jeans and a sweater. While he hadn’t packed snow boots, the person who owned the cabin had a closet full of winter gear. Clay found a pair that fit well enough.
He left a note on the table, telling Victoria and the kids that he’d taken Charlie for a walk. They should remain in the cabin and they’d all have breakfast when he returned. Just before heading out the door, he loaded the rifle and looped the strap over his shoulder.
Charlie waited by the door, wagging his tail in anticipation of a morning walk. If Sydney was a nature-hater, Charlie was her opposite. He’d be happy to live in the middle of nowhere in a rustic cabin. He bounded out the door, disturbing a trio of chickadees. With a happy bark, he bolted past, spraying lumps of snow in his wake.
Clay loaded firewood into the box by the front door. There was still plenty of firewood, but if help didn’t come in a few days, he and Ross would have to split more wood. He stacked the split logs and thought about the wolves. The moment he heard them, he recalled the pilot’s body. He knew what he’d probably find in the wreckage and reproached himself for not tending to the man’s body yesterday.
