by Amy Summers
Chapter 2
“Hey!” He beat her to the doorway effortlessly, blocking it with his wide shoulders. Laughter lit his eyes. “Okay, you win,” he said. “You can come along.” He shrugged, his grin widening suggestively. “I guess you can tell I’m a pushover for a pretty face.”
Her “pretty face” had had nothing to do with this victory, and they both knew it. But she could afford to be magnanimous. She’d won. So she merely smiled, her direct gaze meeting his without a quiver.
“I’ll have to remember that,” she said dryly. “Shall we go?”
The sound of a sliding screen door opening caught their attention and they turned to see the blond girl who had been sunbathing outside coming in. Close up, she barely looked fourteen. The bikini she wore was negligible, but her body was so slim and young, it hardly seemed necessary anyway.
That was Kendall’s quick impression, but Brett Carrington obviously had another reaction. One glance at the girl and his smile evaporated.
“Get some clothes on,” he said sharply. “Can’t you see that we have company?”
The girl blinked at them, still blinded by the change in light from outdoors to inside, and her pretty face turned petulant. She glanced at Kendall, then glared at Brett. “Sorry,” she said with absolutely no conviction and started through the room.
Brett grabbed her arm, turning her back. “There’s no need to be rude,” he said, then sighed with more exasperation than anger. “This is my baby sister Danielle,” he offered as explanation. Humor glinted in his eyes as he looked at Kendall. “One of my many trophies,” he reminded her.
His sister. She should have known. She could see the resemblance around the eyes and mouth. “Hello Danielle.” She held out her hand and the girl took it limply. “I’m Kendall MacKenzie.”
The girl turned questioningly toward her brother.
“The woman who’s starting that new wildlife refuge up at Mountain Acres,” he said gruffly in explanation.
“Oh.” Danielle looked from one to the other. “Brett just hates the idea of that wildlife center,” she said slowly. She threw a challenging look at her brother. “I’ve been thinking of coming over and seeing if I could get a job with you.”
Kendall smiled. “I wish you would. We have plenty of openings, especially for part-time workers.”
“I could work part-time in the afternoons.”
“Wonderful. Come by tomorrow after school and we’ll talk.”
The girl’s whole face had changed. Petulance had been replaced by a radiance that made her lovely to look at. Her smile of triumph was meant strictly for her brother, and his scowl was her reward.
“I’ll do that,” she said.
She left the room and Kendall half expected Brett to say something about not hiring her at the shelter, but he didn’t say a word. The two of them started for the door.
“Sandi,” he called toward the kitchen. “I’m going out.”
The pretty young woman who had originally met Kendall when she first arrived, poked her head out around the kitchen door. “Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Will you be home for dinner?”
“Doubtful.”
A teapot whistled in the kitchen and Sandi disappeared, with a small shriek, to take care of it.
“Another sister?” Kendall asked with a sigh as they made their way toward the front door.
“Yup.” He pulled open the door, smirking at her.
“Bye Brett,” came Anne’s voice from upstairs. “I’m going to double-sheet your bed while you’re gone.”
“You do and I’ll put earthworms in your bath water,” he called back. “Just like I did before.”
A squeal of repugnance was his answer. Kendall didn’t say a word. She merely cocked her head toward upstairs questioningly.
“Another one,” he agreed cheerfully. “I’ve got them all over the place.”
“Three sisters,” she murmured, shoulders sagging as they walked across the porch and started down the steps.
“Four,” he corrected. “Julie is married and living in Alaska.”
Eating crow wasn’t pleasant, but Kendall was no coward. “I’m sorry I implied they were...” Words failed her and she shrugged helplessly.
“Don’t be,” he said. “It’s a wonderful idea. I don’t know why I never thought of it myself.” His teeth flashed as he grinned. “Just as soon as this lot moves out, I’ll get to work on replacing them with those ‘trophies’ you seem to know so much about.”
“You do that,” she said.
“I just might.” He looked at her as he opened the door to his car and held it for her while she got in. “I don’t suppose you’d consider….?”
She glared up at him and he grinned.
“No, I didn’t think so.”
The sky was powder blue, the mountains shades of moss green and lavender, with a splash of brilliant orange here and there where California poppies still bloomed. The air seemed soft, hushed. Only the scraping of their boots on the sandstone trail broke the wilderness silence.
Brett scanned the horizon, then looked back at Kendall. She was lagging behind again. He held back a sigh of annoyance as he stopped and leaned against a boulder to wait for her. Didn’t the woman realize how much more quickly he could do this if he were by himself? Didn’t she know she was holding him back?
It wouldn’t take much to leave her. He knew he could be out of sight in seconds. She’d never catch up. And then she would have to admit defeat and go back to where they’d parked the car to wait for him.
For just a moment he was tempted, but then he discarded the idea. The premise was all wrong, he realized as he watched her coming up the trail toward him. She wouldn’t give up at all. She’d climb all over these hills and get herself thoroughly lost and then he would have to go looking for her... No, it was no use. He was stuck with her.
She slipped on loose rocks and he tensed, ready to go to her aid, but she caught herself and her shoulders squared in a way that told him she would have resented it if he’d come running down the trail to save her.
The tightness around his mouth eased as he watched her. The one advantage was that she certainly was easy on the eyes. Her Australian bush hat was jammed down low so not much of her face was visible. But he did like the way her rounded form filled out her starched khaki jeans and shirt, and most especially the way those little button-down pockets sat right over her breasts.
Things stirred down where things like that tended to stir, but that wasn’t unusual for him. He was a man who liked women. And not only as sex objects either. He enjoyed women, enjoyed their emotionalism, their sensitivity, their tenderness. He realized most people didn’t think of him that way. Around Sweet Willow he was thought of as a man’s man. The fact that he lived with all those sisters was attributed to his generous nature. People didn’t seem to understand that he did it because he just plain liked being around women.
“Sit down and rest,” he told her as she reached his waiting point.
Her violet eyes flashed. “I can go on,” she said stubbornly.
“I’m sure you can.” There was a fat bead of sweat rolling down her pink cheek from her temple. Before she could stop him, he’d reached out and caught it with his index finger. She shook her head to keep him away, and he grinned.
“I’m sure you can,” he repeated. “But I can’t. We’ll stay here for five minutes to make sure we’re thoroughly rested before we move on. We’ll make better time in the long run if we’re fit.”
She didn’t argue. Carefully, she lowered her backpack to rest on a large rock and released it, then stood, flexing her shoulders, and dropped to sit on another handy rock. Pulling off her hat, she leaned back and let the breeze cool her reddened face.
“Here.” He splashed some water from his canteen onto a red handkerchief and reached out to dab it on her face.
Flashing him a quick look, she avoided his gesture, taking the cloth from him without a word and doing the dabbing herself. As he watched, s
he half-closed her eyes while she cooled her cheeks, her neck, and then unbuttoned the top button on her shirt to reach the moisture down over her chest. Looking up, she caught the way he was looking at her, but she didn’t make a move to reclose the button. Instead, she handed back the handkerchief.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“Thank you,” he wanted to say, but he held it back and merely buried his face in the handkerchief, cooling his skin as well as his libido.
Too bad she was a widow with that ‘don’t touch me’ look still in her eyes. Too bad that look only served to challenge him, no matter how much he tried to rein it in. Too bad for both of them—the woman appealed to him strongly and he was pretty sure this day would not go by without his acting on that appeal.
He’d tried to get her to stay behind. She’d taken him to see the crash site and there had been plenty of evidence he was able to use to make a good guess as to which way the mountain lion had run. He’d warned her it could be a long search but she’d just looked at him with that wide-eyed stare and he’d gone into the station and packed two backpacks and pulled out two sleeping bags while she’d changed into khakis. And here they were.
He looked up and his quick eye caught movement at some distance. “Red-tailed hawk,” he said shortly, pointing out toward the distant hills.
She looked quickly and nodded, watching the majestic bird swoop and soar until it was out of sight.
“How do we know we’re on the right track?” she asked abruptly, turning to fix him with her serious stare. “Do you actually know where we’re going, or are we just wandering around hoping for a bit of luck?”
He took his time answering, rubbing the back of his neck with the wet cloth. He was surprised she’d questioned his expertise, but not affronted.
“Don’t you worry,” he said at last. “We’ll have your animal by nightfall.”
She turned more fully toward him. “I’d like to believe that,” she said shortly. “But I haven’t seen any evidence that you’re doing anything other than taking me on a pleasant afternoon hike.”
She licked her lips, studying his reaction to her charges.
“I showed you the blood where the accident occurred. You charged off in this direction, and I haven’t seen a thing since. How do you know?” she asked again.
His smile was slow and sure. “I think like an animal,” he said softly. “I feel like an animal. Instinct tells me what direction your puma would take.” He shrugged. “We went that way. There’ve been plenty of signs that tell me I’m right.”
“Really?” Her voice was skeptical. “I haven’t noticed any of these signs.”
“I guess I see things that you don’t.”
“Like what?”
He rose slowly and sauntered down the trail a few feet, then used his boot to push aside a bit of scrub brush, revealing a small mound of half-buried fecal matter.
“Puma,” he drawled. “About three hours old.” He let the brush fall back and returned to his seat on the rock. “Now I cannot guarantee that it was your puma,” he said. “But I’d lay odds it was.”
“Have you seen any more blood?” she asked.
He turned to look at her. “A little,” he said at last. “But not enough to worry about.”
He didn’t tell her the rest—that the animal they were following was moving farther faster than it would under normal circumstances—that it was either badly hurt or unusually frightened of something.
She was fighting hard to remain calm. He could see that. She seemed awfully attached to that mountain lion. That puzzled him a little. A beautiful woman like that—why didn’t she have children or a boyfriend or something else to be concerned about? He only hoped they found her animal in good shape. Anything else would hit her hard, if he was any judge of character. It was time to move on, but he gave her another moment.
She knew he was doing it, and she appreciated the gesture. He rose and stretched, and she watched him stretch out of the corner of her eye. She’d seen that body half naked at the house and her memory was just fine. He moved with a sure, fluid animal grace that made her catch her breath and hold it. He did everything that way: walking, running, climbing. She was certain it was the same when he made love to a woman—sure and smooth and flowing—and her cheeks turned bright red as she jammed the hat back down on her head, hoping to hide them.
“Let’s go,” Brett said abruptly. And they were off again.
It was hot. Lines of sweat rolled down Kendall’s spine, making her squirm as she walked. The straps of the pack dug into her shoulders. They were higher now, following a winding trail up the steep side of a mountain. Very close was a drop-off to jagged rocks below. She was stepping carefully, trying not to look down, avoiding nightmare thoughts of what a fall would do to her.
The going was rough, and she was beginning to tire. She could read the impatience in his eyes whenever he looked back. She knew he wished she hadn’t come along. But she had to be there when Chelsea was found. Brett Carrington was a good tracker and attractive as all get-out, but she didn’t trust him. Not with that Winchester strapped to his pack.
“Need to rest?” he called back.
Her muscles cried out for it but she couldn’t stop. “No,” she returned, pushing her hat back on her head. And that was when she saw the movement on the ridge above them.
“Chelsea?” she cried out. The tan fur vanished but Kendall was sure. “Chelsea! I think it’s Chelsea.”
Without thinking, she began to scramble up the side of the cliff face, her feet sliding on the loose rocks.
“Don’t go that way,” Brett shouted. “It’s a slide.”
But it was too late. The rough mix of soil, plants and rock beneath her had been settled at an angle of repose. Her body weight changed that dramatically. She lost her balance, falling heavily against the ground, and the whole area began to churn down the side of the mountain with Kendall clawing for a handhold, anything to stop her cascading fall.
Brett was yelling something but she didn’t know what it was. She had dirt in her mouth, her eyes. Rocks were everywhere and she seemed to bounce from one to another. She was being swept along in a huge wave that roared in her ears.
And then Brett had her. His strong arms seemed to pluck her from disaster and she turned, clinging to him, her hands twisting in the cloth of his shirt.
“Oh!” she gasped, holding onto him as though to let go was to be swept away again.
“It’s okay,” he muttered, pulling her back onto solid ground. “Anything broken?”
She was still gasping for clean air. “I don’t think so.” She felt his hands on her legs, her arms, and though she felt bruised, nothing screamed in sudden pain at his touch. “I don’t think so,” she said again, shaking her head.
Her backpack had been ripped away, her clothes torn. She could imagine what her face looked like, but right now that hardly seemed important. She couldn’t see anything. Her eyes were clogged with dirt. She resisted the urge to rub them, knowing that would only make things worse.
“Cry,” he commanded roughly. He was sitting on the ground now, holding her.
She groped about to face him and tried to blink her dirt-crusted eyes. “What?”
“Cry,” he said again. “It’s the best way to clean out your eyes.”
He took a deep breath. “Come on, Kendall. You’ve just had a brush with death. Go ahead and cry about it.”
But she couldn’t cry. She never cried. She hadn’t cried when Gerald had died, and she knew she wouldn’t cry now.
He held her across his lap and splashed water from his canteen on her face. She sputtered, struggling, but then he was wiping away the dirt with his handkerchief and she went very quiet, letting his gentle touch soothe her.
“That was frightening,” she said at last, and her voice sounded like gravel.
“Yup,” he said shortly, concentrating hard on cleaning up her face.
She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. “I’m okay.” Her
eyes were clear, though they felt burned, sandy. The quick terror had passed and she was slightly embarrassed. “I can get up now.”
He pulled away and sat back, letting her find her footing on her own. She stood and began to pull her clothes together, knowing he’d seen more than she’d wanted him to, but his face was utterly blank and she couldn’t read a reaction there. A couple of buttons were missing and a jagged three-corner rip had ruined the shirt. She tied the tails into a knot over her stomach and pulled it tight, as though to deny any exploration of her private self.
Suddenly she remembered what had brought on her headlong rush up the mountain. “Chelsea.” She looked up at the ridge again.
“It wasn’t your puma,” he said flatly. “I saw it before you did. It was just a marten.”
She turned to stare at him, disappointed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He brushed dirt off a flat rock. “Here. Sit down. You need more rest before we can go on.”
“I’m all right.” But she sat where he told her to, and she had to admit, her legs were shaking. “I suppose you see this as justification for your opinion that I shouldn’t have come along.”
His eyes widened with pretended innocence. “Who, me? I didn’t say a word.”
“You don’t need to say anything. Your thoughts ring loud and clear.”
“Do they?” His slight smile was sardonic as he glanced quickly at her lips, the tight knot that held her shirt closed. “Then I’m in big trouble,” he murmured.
She almost laughed, he looked so forlorn. But laughing would bring them closer together. She knew that instinctively. And she didn’t want that. “Thank you,” she said instead, her voice stiff with the effort of formality. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Any time.”
“I’ll do the same for you some time,” she said quickly, then flushed as he grinned his skepticism to that idea. “I will,” she insisted. “If I get the opportunity.”
He shrugged. “I hope you don’t expect me to try to provide you with one,” he said dryly. “I generally try to keep away from danger.”
