by Janet Dailey
The motor kicked over with the first turn of the ignition switch. His reddened fingers reached over to the panel and switched the heater fan to its highest notch. His brown glance ran to her shivering form.
“It’ll be warm in here soon,” he promised and pulled her across the seat to mold her to his side.
An arm stayed tightly around her, hugging her close, while he used one hand to shift the truck into gear and hold on to the steering wheel. Her head lolled on the rounded hollow of his hard shoulder and bounced against it as the truck leaped forward, speeding as fast as the rough terrain would allow.
A thousand needle fires seemed to burn her face, the first painful knowledge that sensation was beginning to return to her. Hot air started blowing out of the floor vent, but it only made her bare feet hurt. She continued to shiver uncontrollably.
“Creed, I’m so cold.” Her voice was a thready sound, helplessly appealing to him to make her warm.
“I know, baby. I know,” the velvety texture of his rough voice crooned soothingly to her. “It won’t be long now. Just hang on.”
But the miles seemed to go on forever. Layne didn’t know where they were or how far they had to go. Her body throbbed all over with the cold. Yet there was some hope because she could feel the hot air blowing from the heater vents. There was just too little of it to warm her freezing wet skin. Her body vibrated in its attempt to generate its own warmth, but the cold seemed to penetrate all the way to the bone.
“I thought I was going to die.” Her voice wavered on a near sob. The terror of the incident was coming back so fresh that Layne had to talk about it to puncture the bubble of new panic inside. “I was so frightened, Creed.” It took all her control to give the faint impression of rational calm.
“Don’t think about it,” he ordered as his arm tightened fiercely around her. “You’re with me now.” He turned his head, dodging the low hat brim to press his mouth to the corner of her eye in a brief, reassuring kiss.
“It happened so fast,” Layne murmured in a shuddering recollection. “I spotted a stray cow on the other side of the pond. I decided to … take a shortcut across it instead of … going all the way around. I forgot … all about how much thawing had occurred. The ice … started cracking when my horse was out in the middle of it. He spooked and reared … I lost my balance. I—” She remembered the stunning shock of the icy water, and the words to describe it froze in her throat.
“Sssh. It’s over now.” Creed seemed to know exactly why she shuddered so violently. “We’re almost at the house.”
The seconds seemed like minutes before she heard the grinding of brake shoes and felt the truck slow to a stop. Creed dragged her bundled form sideways out of the driver’s door and hefted her into his arms. The sudden blast of cold air sent more shivers racking through her body and chattering her teeth.
With long, sweeping strides, he carried her up the porch steps and propped open the storm door with his shoulder. He kicked the inner door open with his foot and swung inside with his burden.
“Mattie!” His rough voice lifted to send his urgent call through the empty rooms. “Mattie!”
He paused long enough to push the door shut with his foot, then headed for the stairs. He practically ran up the steps, with Layne joggling in his arms. All she could think about were the thick, warm quilts on her bed. But Creed carried her into the bathroom instead and stood her upright beside the tub.
His hands supported her while his gaze bore into her. “Can you stand up by yourself?”
Her legs felt so wooden that she wasn’t sure. “I … think so,” Layne said with a shivering nod.
His keen gaze lingered on her a second after he took his hands away to assure himself that she had sufficient control of her limbs to do it. But she was standing, if somewhat unsteadily. Turning, Creed bent over the tub, closed the drain stopper, and turned on the water faucets to fill the tub. After the water temperature had been adjusted, he straightened and unwrapped his jacket from around her and took off the hat.
“Start getting out of those wet clothes.” There was a flick of a gaze over the length of her body before he turned to hook his jacket over the doorknob with his hat.
With benumbed fingers, Layne tried to do as she was told, but she was shaking so badly that her cold-stiffened hands couldn’t seem to manage this simplest function. She sent a helpless glance at Creed.
“I can’t,” she murmured. “I’m so cold—”
No further explanation was necessary as he moved back to her. “I’ll help you.” With no hesitation, he began to unfasten the front button of her flannel shirt.
Layne was much too cold to feel any awkwardness at being undressed by him. She only wanted to get out of her wet and clinging clothes, which seemed to be freezing against her skin. There was a matter-of-fact deftness in the touch of his hands, impersonal and swift in their stripping of her blouse.
It was a struggle to pull the insulated and long-sleeved undershirt over her head. Layne helped him as much as she could, sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet seat while he tugged off her jeans and longjohns. Her bra and panties were the last to go. By then she was shivering so violently, her bare skin a mass of raised flesh, that she wasn’t conscious of her nakedness.
Again Creed picked her up and she huddled against him. Her arms were crossed tightly around her stomach, trying to hold on to the little warmth she possessed. The texture of his clothes seemed abrasive against her bare skin. He started to lower her into the tub.
The instant her feet touched the hot bathwater, a moaning gasp of pain was wrenched from her throat. All that heat hurt so bad that Layne didn’t think she could stand it. Her fingers curled into the wafflelike weave of Creed’s insulated undershirt.
“No. Please,” she protested with twisting agony, but Creed continued to lower her into the water, getting himself wet in the process.
The painful submersion didn’t end until she was lying against the curved back of the tub and the water was lapping around her neck. Only then did the needle-sharp stinging finally ease and the torture of suddenly being engulfed in so much warmth finally subside. Her body throbbed with feeling that had been so long denied it. She was unquestionably alive and tingling all over. She opened her eyes to look gratefully at Creed as he stood by the tub, drying his hands on a towel.
“You be all right?” A thick eyebrow lifted in inquiry. At her affirmative nod, a near smile touched his mouth.
As he started for the door Layne remembered something she’d learned once. “There’s no truth … in that old wives’ tale about a person catching cold from getting wet.” It was a way of assuring him that she wasn’t in danger of contracting pneumonia from her dunking in the icy pond.
Creed paused at the door. “I wasn’t worried about you catching cold,” he said. “My fear was hypothermia. A severe drop in body temperature has been known to kill people.” Her eyes rounded at the stark realization that even after being saved from drowning she had still been in danger. Creed pointed a blunt finger at her. “Stay in that tub for a while and soak in that heat.”
As he walked into the hallway, taking his hat and jacket with him, Layne shuddered—this time in a delayed reaction to the closeness of her call instead of the cold. She sunk a little deeper into the warm bathwater until it was up to her chin and closed her eyes, absorbing the sensation of heat that surrounded her body.
How long she lay in the tub, Layne couldn’t say. She was vaguely conscious of the sounds of Creed moving about the house. Once she heard voices, but mostly she was aware of the life returning to her limbs and the stiffness ebbing away.
The water temperature was just becoming tepid when she heard the approach of Creed’s footsteps. He entered the bathroom with barely a glance in her direction, carrying her long terrycloth robe and her hair dryer. Turning, he removed a large bath towel from the rack on the wall, then faced the tub, shaking out the towel to its full size.
“You’d better get out of the wa
ter before your skin shrivels up like a prune,” Creed advised blandly.
Layne hesitated. It was a little late for a show of modesty when he’d been the one to undress her, but she was suddenly self-conscious about her nudity even though he had seen her naked body before. Keeping her gaze lowered so he couldn’t see the hint of embarrassment in her eyes, she climbed out of the tub and stepped into the oversized towel, which he immediately wrapped around her.
Decently covered, she was able to slide a look at him, but his expression was closed. Once the towel was securely wrapped around her, Layne expected him to leave. Instead Creed used the excess fold of the towel to begin briskly rubbing her shoulders dry.
“I can manage.” She awkwardly attempted to assure him that she was capable of drying herself off.
“It’s important to stimulate your circulation.” Creed sounded so downright impersonal that it seemed prudish to argue with him.
But Layne could have told him that his mere presence was having a very stimulating effect on her system. Since he didn’t seem to notice her faint agitation, she tried not to draw his attention to it. But she could feel the heat rising in her neck as his large hands rubbed the towel over her breasts and stomach.
Once Creed paused briefly to toss her another towel for her wet hair, then transferred his attention to the water trickling down her shoulder blades. She quickly realized that Creed didn’t regard any part of her body as sacred territory as he roughly massaged her buttocks and inner thighs with the thick towel. In all honesty, it was more sensually exhilarating than it was embarrassing.
Her pulse was beating very rapidly when he finished and held out the robe to help her into it. Layne slipped an arm into the sleeve, then allowed the towel to slide onto the bath mat and hooked her right arm into the other sleeve. She crisscrossed the front of the robe and tied a knot in the sash belt to hold it in place.
Creed lifted the length of her damp hair out from under the collar. “You’d better dry it before you come downstairs.”
“I will,” she said huskily and turned to him. He stood for a minute gazing back at her, a dark and disturbing light in his eyes, the mask of indifference gone. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you yet for saving me.”
“It isn’t necessary.” His answer was almost curt as his jaw tightened. Despite that brief flash of grimness, he lifted a hand to brush a damp tendril of hair behind her ear. “It’s a miracle you didn’t get any frostbite.”
“I know.”
His chest lifted on a deep breath that he was slow to release. He seemed to be struggling with some inner battle. Layne wasn’t sure who won when he turned on his heel and headed for the door.
“You’d better dry that wet head of yours before you get chilled again,” he advised over his shoulder as he walked out of the bathroom.
It was already toweled damp-dry so it didn’t take her blow-dryer long to finish the job. Her thick mane of chestnut hair glistened like silk when she descended the stairs into the living room. Creed walked in from the kitchen just as she entered the room.
Layne faltered for an instant, feeling a sensual impact at the sight of the broad, flat muscles of his naked chest. He was no longer wearing that insulated top. She vaguely remembered that he’d gotten it wet, and she could attest to the fact that there was nothing more uncomfortable than wearing wet garments.
Yet she found it unnerving, in an exciting way, to see all those sinewy, powerful muscles and that diamond-shaped patch of chest hairs. She became conscious that she was staring and turned away.
A fire blazed in the fireplace, young flames leaping high over the dry logs. She moved toward the hearth. “This looks warm and cozy,” she declared. “I’m glad you started it.”
Creed came into the room as Layne sank to the floor in front of the fire. “I fixed you some hot, sweet tea. It’s supposed to be good for shock.”
“I don’t think I’m suffering from any, but it sounds good anyway.” Her lips barely curved, but the look in her eyes was radiant with the inner glow of pleasure she was feeling as she accepted the cup he offered to her. He pulled a footstool closer to the fire and sat down, bending his long legs.
“Where’s Mattie? I thought I heard you talking to someone earlier.” Her gaze kept straying to the hard, bare muscles of his chest as she sipped at the strong, sweet tea. That indefinable male quality she had always sensed about him was more pronounced now—and more disturbing.
“She left a note saying she’d gone into town. It seems we’re low on coffee. She said she was going to stop at the Powell ranch on the way back, so she probably won’t be home until suppertime,” Creed explained. “You probably heard me talking to Stoney. Your horse came back to the barn. They were worried something had happened to you until I told them I’d found you and brought you home.”
Layne tilted her head to one side. “What were you doing out there? How did you find me?”
“I was driving the fenceline—about a quarter mile from the pond. I saw your horse … and noticed his legs were wet. The pond was the only place that was close by.” He threaded his long, callused fingers together, absently studying them. “I kept hoping you’d simply been thrown.”
“Then it was just sheer luck …” Her throat tightened on the rest of the words. “If you hadn’t been there, I—”
“Don’t think about it, Layne,” he ordered grimly when a small shudder trembled through her shoulders. “I did find you.”
“Yes.” She felt shaky inside and set the cup of tea on the hearthstone. She made a determined effort to find a lighter subject. “Why did you put your hat on my head? It was about three sizes too big for me.”
His glance flicked over her curled position on the floor. “A lot of a person’s body heat escapes through their head. That’s why in the old days, people used to wear caps to bed.”
Layne turned her head to study the bright, crackling flames. Slowly she let her gaze be drawn back to him. “Isn’t it crazy? Even with this fire … and the robe, I feel chilly.”
There was a slight hesitation before Creed moved off the stool and went down on one knee to join her on the floor. When he started to gather her into his arms, it seemed the most natural thing to lay back and turn into his length so they would be lying face-to-face on their sides.
Layne pressed close to him, his arms wound firmly around her to mold them together. With the fire warming her backside, she snuggled into his bare chest to have closer contact with the body heat radiating from his hard flesh. She laid her cheek in the center of the sensually rough mat of chest hairs and inhaled his warm, male smell.
“Is that better?” The vibrations of his low voice rumbled beneath her.
Her hand stroked the hard skin stretched tautly over his ribs while Layne enjoyed the sensation of touching him. “You must have a furnace inside you,” she murmured. “Your body feels so warm.”
“Does it?” His fingers spread across the hollow of her back, lightly caressing, while his other hand absently rubbed her shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re such a large man,” Layne mused softly, enveloped by the sensation of those wide shoulders curving around her. “There’s so much more of you to keep me warm. It almost feels as if I’m crawling inside you.”
There was a faint tremor in the rough fingertips that curled along the underside of her chin, silently urging her to lift her head. She raised it slowly and felt the running search of his gaze over her face. Layne sensed the tautness in his body, the stringent containment of his feelings. Then, like the slow uncoiling of a tightly wound spring, it was released as he moved toward her lips.
His mouth rolled over their soft curves, testing and tasting, while his hand cradled the back of her head in its palm. It was an instinctive movement that eased Layne around until both shoulders touched the carpeted floor. Her hands slid around his naked middle and flattened themselves along his ridged spine. Creed nibbled at her lips, taking sensuous bites of them. His fingers tangled themselves in the silken stran
ds of her hair while he dragged his mouth over her cheek and eye, grazing along her jaw. She felt the raw shudder that claimed him when he pressed his lean cheek against hers.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” he muttered thickly, close to her ear. “I was shaking so badly when I crawled onto that ice … I thought you were going to slip away from me before I could reach you.”
She had a brief flash of insight for the hell he’d gone through. The pressure of his hands increased as she held him tightly to her and pressed her lips to his angular jaw. There was the faintest scrape of his whiskers against her sensitive mouth when he turned to give her a more satisfactory location on which to bestow her kisses.
This time it was all raw desire, undisguised and unrestrained, as he plundered her parted lips to lick the sensitive insides of her mouth and tease her tongue, stirring her excitement. Her gliding hands reveled in the sensation of the bunched and flexing muscles beneath the hard, smooth skin of his back.
There was a spiraling pleasure stabbing sweetly through her body. When she felt his hand pushing apart the crossed front of her robe, a need to experience his intimate touch flowered deep inside her. His large, work-roughened hand slid onto her bare skin and cupped its palm over the peak of her breast.
The blood pounded through her veins and a delicious languor claimed her limbs. Shivers danced over her skin as Creed burned kisses down the sensitive cord in her neck and the hollow of her throat. She breathed in sharply at the exquisite sensation of his lips trailing up the slope of her breast and curling onto her hardening nipple.
The slipknot of her robe sash was easily dispensed with so that nothing held the robe closed. Her fingers were in the unruly thickness of his hair, its springy texture stimulating to the touch. Unconsciously she murmured his name over and over again in a fevered need. But his hands were already answering it, gliding down her stomach to her hot thighs and twisting hips.
