by Joanne Rock
The demons from his past had teeth, and they would still be gnawing on him when he closed his eyes tonight.
“Where are we going?” she called to him through the wind, her voice doubly muffled by her scarf.
They trudged side by side down the mountain, their pace slow in case of loose rocks under the snow. He’d offered her a second headlamp that he’d brought with him, but she had her own and wore it now. She’d been more prepared than he had anticipated, from her gear to her ease with packing quickly and efficiently.
She’d been scared, though. He’d read the fear easily in her body language from her blinking eyes and darting gaze to her jerky movements, signs that would have been clear even if he hadn’t been trained to deal with frightened survivors. He’d done his best to calm her once they were out of the most dangerous area, but he could tell she was spooked. And he’d damn well been reassured this wasn’t a setup on her part. She hadn’t baited him out onto the mountain just for a chance to interrogate him about his dealings with Alonzo Salazar, the subject of her financial investigation.
She would have had to be a good actress to fake the fear he’d witnessed earlier. The flash of panic in her blue eyes. The tremor in her voice. Although with her goggles on now, he had fewer cues to how she was doing.
“There are safe campsites this way.” They hadn’t gone far from her original spot, since he wouldn’t risk a fall in the dark in these harsh weather conditions, but they were out of the ravine and following a ridge he knew well.
“Shouldn’t we get off the mountain?” she pressed, leaning closer to him as she spoke.
If he’d been alone—yes. He would have returned to the all-terrain vehicle he’d left at a trailhead. But he wouldn’t risk it with April in tow. Sure, she seemed like she must be a strong climber on a regular day. But it was late; she had to be tired and most definitely stressed. Bottom line, he didn’t trust her sure-footedness or her judgment and couldn’t risk going any farther than necessary.
“Safer to make camp someplace I know will be protected until the storm passes.” He pointed to a spot tucked out of the wind ahead of them. Between a secure rock ledge and sheltering trees, there was far less snow here. “I brought a big tent with the highest weather rating.”
Stepping under the shelter of the ledge, he shed his backpack and unzipped it to dig out the gear. Only when he pulled off his gloves did he realize she’d stopped moving. A few steps behind him, she looked lost in the spotlight of his headlamp, snow almost reaching her knees.
She might have said something, but the words were lost in the wind.
Gesturing for her to come closer, he called, “I can’t hear you.”
He set his flashlight on the rock ledge so it shone down onto his backpack while April hopped down to join him. She wrenched off her goggles, taking her headlamp with them. He could see her blue eyes clearly now.
“You’re staying?” she asked, the question huffing into the cold air between them. “With me?”
Maybe it was because she didn’t seem frightened anymore. Or maybe it was because he knew they were out of danger here. But something in the way she asked reminded him how very appealing he found this woman. And how grateful he was that she was safe.
April Stephens had been a red-hot distraction from the first time he’d seen her. Then he’d discovered how good she was at her job as she started to uncover the long-kept secrets of his mentor. And tonight, he’d seen a grit in her that he never would have expected from a woman who looked like she’d be more at home on a glossy magazine cover than a Montana ranch—let alone on a mountaintop.
From the high cheekbones and delicate bone structure to her pillow-soft lips, she had an exquisite beauty that turned male heads. But better than that, she had a fiery determination that he admired, even if he’d been on the wrong side of it when they met.
“I didn’t hike all this way in the dark only to leave you alone now, April.” He couldn’t have held back the flare of anticipation now if he tried. Not that he was going to seduce a woman he felt responsible for tonight. But he couldn’t deny the sensual draw every time he was around her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s—kind of you.” She didn’t sound convinced of that, but at least her voice sounded stronger. Feistier. “But I have a tent of my own.”
She was already wriggling out of the straps of her backpack, plunking it down in the snow while he found his ice ax, which doubled as a mallet to pound in the stakes.
“You’ve got a tear in yours,” he reminded her. He’d heard the fabric shredding in the high gusts along the ravine before he’d helped her disassemble it. “Besides, this is meant for two people.”
His shelter was state-of-the-art. Everest winds wouldn’t take the thing down. Setup took less than two minutes since he was familiar with the equipment and accustomed to putting together a shelter in a hurry. He tossed his sleeping bag and insulated pad inside and then held the canvas flap door open for her.
She still clutched her own backpack uncertainly, wind whipping the ends of her hair that she hadn’t taken time to tuck into her hat. Lips pursed, she studied him and seemed to weigh her options.
That’s when the adrenaline letdown from the rescue mission kicked in, rushing through him in the form of sweet, sharp desire.
April must have been blinded by the snow-globe effect of white swirling between them, because she didn’t seem to notice. She took a deep breath and crawled inside the tent, giving him a view of lush feminine curves that didn’t do anything to put out the flames.
Swallowing back the sudden hunger for her, he ground his teeth while he watched her carefully remove her boots and leave them in the vestibule area. He tilted his face up to the snow, needing the cooling touch on his heated skin before he got anywhere near her.
No doubt about it, he was in for a long night ahead.
Two
The last time she checked, Weston Rivera didn’t even like her, April reminded herself as she tucked deeper into her sleeping bag in the roomy, two-person tent he’d put up as fast as a magic trick. So it was foolish of her to think she felt any kind of spark between them.
Especially in the frigid cold, on a windy mountaintop, after he’d risked his own neck to save hers. If anything, he should be irritated with her. Surely she was imagining the hot, simmering sensation as he stripped off his snow-covered outer layer. She watched him by the light of the lantern he’d set on the ground. Even in the harsh, bluish glare, Weston was ruggedly handsome.
His dark blond hair was long, past the collar of the gray flannel shirt under his parka. A light brown scruff of whiskers covered his jaw, calling to her fingertips to test the texture. With powerful shoulders and hazel eyes a woman could lose herself in, Weston possessed far too much masculine appeal.
Maybe she was the one feeling all the heat. She’d probably imagined the answering hunger in his eyes, her emotions on edge after having to be rescued from her own poor decision making tonight. Which reminded her: she owed him an apology.
The words were on the tip of her tongue when his thigh brushed hers as he slid off his work pants with the bright yellow reflective stripes on the legs. He wore pants underneath them, of course, but there was something terribly intimate about him undressing an inch away from her. Even in a two-person tent, the space was narrow—just big enough for their sleeping bags, side by side. The contact made her thigh tingle.
“Won’t you be cold?” she blurted, mostly to distract herself from the response she was having to him. She had kept most of her layers on, while her snow goggles, boots and outer waterproof mittens dried in the vestibule area. She even kept on a soft pair of inner gloves and the knit hat she’d worn under her ski hood.
She’d kept the inner fleece from her parka and the base layer of her ski pants too, since she’d shivered all the way over from the first campsite. She wasn’t sure if it was a true physic
al chill or just a cold feeling she had in her belly from discovering she’d pitched a tent in an avalanche zone.
“No.” Weston leaned back in the sleeping bag, so that he was almost lying down beside her. But first, he draped his discarded jacket on top of the sleeping bag, and then arranged his pants so they rested above his legs. “I use them like extra blankets. They’re uncomfortable if I keep them on, since I carry a lot of gear in the pockets.”
With the layers configured the way he wanted, he lifted the lantern and held it above her as he propped himself on one elbow. His breath huffed in the light as he spoke again. “Can I shut this down for the night?”
Her throat dried up at the sight of him so close. A rush of gratitude filled her that he’d done so much to help her and keep her safe tonight. But that appreciation was bound up with so many more complicated feelings. Conflict. Attraction. Regret that she’d put him in this position at all.
“Yes,” she rasped on a husky breath. “I’m all set.”
The memory of what he looked like in that moment—big strong arms, powerful chest and tender concern in his eyes—would be burned on the backs of her eyeballs for long after the tent went dark.
Now, her ears became more acutely attuned to the sounds around her as he shifted in his sleeping bag. A knee grazed hers, the warmth of his body inspiring a heat that didn’t have anything to do with actual core temperature. Outside the wind whistled and howled, but the tent fabric seemed impervious, stretched as tight as her nerves as Weston lay in the inky blackness with her.
“Thank you for coming out here tonight.” The words were easier to say in the dark, when she couldn’t gauge his expression or see his body language. She’d been confused by both in the past, unable to really read him. “I’m sorry to have ruined your evening with an unplanned trip up the mountain, but I’m grateful.”
On his side of the tent, he stilled. Maybe he’d just settled into a comfortable position.
“I got into mountain-rescue work to help people in trouble. But ideally, I’d rather prevent an accident before it happens.” When he spoke, his words were so close to her ear, she realized he must be on his side.
Facing her.
She swallowed. Tried to focus on his words and not his nearness as she burrowed deeper into her sleeping bag while attempting not to move too much. She lay on her back, wary of getting any closer to him when she felt vulnerable and, yes, a little scared of what the weather might bring tomorrow. The snowstorm had kicked up into a major event so quickly that it had seriously rattled her confidence on the mountain.
“Yet climbing up here, in the dark, to make sure I got out of there safely? That was above and beyond. I didn’t mean for you to take a risk in these deteriorating weather conditions.”
Guilt bubbled up in her. She should have tracked the weather more carefully, but the storm had arrived much faster than the forecasters had predicted.
The deep timbre of his voice rumbled through her. “It was better for me to make the climb to help you in person. Not knowing you that well, I didn’t want to send you a text that could potentially scare you and have you scrambling around on dangerous terrain.”
He’d said as much before, but it didn’t make her feel any better about him risking his neck for her sake. What if he’d been injured in the attempt to help her? A whirl of what-ifs spun through her brain. She knew how seemingly innocuous events could lead to major consequences. She remembered all too well the chain of events that had brought her mother to her current state.
“I do have GPS equipment. I could have followed directions,” she insisted, not wanting to be the cause of anyone else’s trouble. She preferred to be self-sufficient after the years of relying on her mother for care that she’d been incapable of giving. Looking for strength within was her go-to coping mechanism. Besides, the part that really bugged her was that she’d messaged him tonight to find common ground with him for the sake of her investigation.
She’d been fishing for answers, and he’d been completely selfless. The disparity didn’t sit well with her.
“With the storm coming in, I knew conditions could change from moment to moment, and that really impacts which way out of the ravine is safest. It was easier to check out the snow and the wind for myself than to give you instructions from my living room.” He said it matter-of-factly, like it was an obvious solution.
She bit her tongue for a moment to keep herself from arguing with him since, bottom line, she was grateful. She’d had no idea she’d put herself in such danger tonight.
“Thank you,” she said, her gaze wandering over the shape of his shoulder in the darkness as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. “I feel even worse about you being here, though, considering the way we last parted. I know I’m not high on your list of favorite people.”
In the quiet moment that followed, she heard nothing but the wind and the soft plunk of fat snowflakes on the tent roof.
“Your job puts us at odds,” he said finally, his words sounding carefully chosen. “And, until tonight, I haven’t gotten the chance to know you outside your investigation.”
She couldn’t help a wry laugh, caused by the guilt and vulnerability of her position. “I don’t think tonight is going to raise your opinion of me now that I’m the hapless ranch guest you had to rescue in a snowstorm.”
“We’re going to be fine, you know,” he reassured her, his tone gentle.
Through her sleeping bag, she felt his hand cover her forearm, giving it a comforting squeeze.
Everything inside her went perfectly still. Unbidden, memories of seeing him in the stables with the horses came back to her. She’d observed him unaware before she cornered him in his office to question him. He’d been a wizard with a skittish gelding, calming the animal’s restless movements with his steady presence until the horse rested its muzzle on his shoulder and let out a soft sigh.
She’d been mesmerized by Weston then. Just like now.
“You’re not worried about how much snow we’re getting?” The climb down could be difficult.
“No. And you shouldn’t be, either.” His hand didn’t move away from her forearm.
She felt her heartbeat there, as if her blood pulsed harder through her veins in the place where he touched her. So weird. So...intriguing.
A wave of warmth stole over her, sweet and pleasurable. Tempting and oh, so dangerous. She couldn’t afford to let herself be charmed by him. Not when she still had a job to do.
“In that case, I’ll try not to think about the storm.” What she needed was a distraction. A way to take her mind off the snow. Off the sexy and disarming man lying beside her in the dark. “We could talk about the job I have to do, instead. As long as we’re both here.”
Still, he didn’t move his hand away. That surprised her a little, since she guessed the topic would insert some much-needed frosty distance between them again.
“We could,” he said easily, as if he’d really thought it over. “But since you’re sharing my roof tonight, and I climbed all this way to save your lovely hide, I think the information is going to cost you.”
“Is that so?” She turned her head toward him to see if she could discern his expression. Read his mood. But his face was still in shadow, even if she could see the outline of his broad shoulders.
“Definitely.” His voice took on a silky note as he skimmed a touch up her arm to her shoulder.
Her heart rate doubled.
“What are you suggesting?” she asked, with a hint more breathlessness than she would have liked.
“I think a kiss per question would be fair,” he told her evenly.
So much for frosty distance. She felt a wave of heat as surely as if someone switched off the snow and turned on a fireplace, and that was the last thing she needed.
“I don’t think anyone has tried coercing me into kissing since junior high,” she to
ld him drily.
He had the good grace to chuckle. “No coercion intended. Are you sure you can say the same for yourself? Because I won’t feel as good about the rescue attempt if you were only hoping to ask me questions about Alonzo Salazar again.”
Guilt pinched at her conscience again.
“Fair enough.” She turned over in her sleeping bag to face him, realizing she needed to be on her toes with this man. “Although I’m not sure it speaks well of your kissing skill that you leverage it to discourage me from talking about my c-case.”
A shiver rolled through her.
“Are you warm enough?” He slid his coat off his bag and laid it over hers. “This will help.”
“Thank you.” She fidgeted more in an effort to get comfortable and warm.
“And I have total faith in my kissing skills, for what it’s worth. But I took a gamble you were one of those women who won’t mix business with pleasure.” The last word sounded oddly erotic in the dark. He paused a moment, and then added, “Would you like some help with your bag?”
* * *
Weston had thought maybe acknowledging the attraction between them would reroute that busy mind of hers, since she’d been worrying about the weather and feeling guilty for getting them snowed in together.
So his intentions for the flirtatious direction of their conversation had been mostly good. But he had been unable to distract her, and now she sounded chilled.
“I’m trying to find the drawstring so I c-can pull the fabric around my face,” she admitted, her shivering more obvious now.
Concerned, he reached for his flashlight.
“Let me,” he insisted, clicking the torch on to the lower setting and pointing it away from them so as not to blind her.
He could see she’d wriggled her sleeping pad off to one side. The material was now bunched between them where it wasn’t going to help her stay warm. His coat had fallen off her too, no doubt because she was struggling with the puffy down to find the drawstring.
