by Cherry Adair
She certainly didn't need a man to help her put on clean dry socks. But, oh, Lord. His warm hands on her cold foot had a soporific effect and felt so good she decided to give him another ten minutes before she reamed him out.
"Explain how you came to Montana with Sean and bought the ranch." Her own voice sounded distant to her ears as she fought sleep.
He hesitated. "Were you aware that Sean was my foreman in Texas?"
Lily frowned up at him, her pretty eyes glassy with fatigue. This wasn't the time or the place to bring this up. But if not now, when and where? Derek thought with frustration. She'd erected the Wall of China between them long ago. It was either break it down stone by stone, or take a bulldozer and do it fast and dirty.
"You and Sean owned the ranch in Texas together?" Lily asked, voice as hazy as her eyes.
"No. Sean worked for me for a couple of years. When he discovered that his father's spread in Montana was for sale he asked if I'd be interested in buying it." Begged. Bartered. Tried to blackmail.
Lily stared at him, clearly trying to wrap her brain around something that was the complete opposite of what she'd been led to believe. Derek knew what Sean had told her: After Sean's father had disowned and disinherited him, he'd gone to Texas and eventually bought a small successful ranch there. When he'd heard that his father's ranch was being sold off by the state, he'd come back home and bought it. Inviting his previous foreman, Derek, to join him.
Sean had been one of the most accomplished liars Derek had ever encountered. And he'd encountered many. Both as an antiterrorist operative and as a rancher. Derek had always prided himself in his ability to size someone up within minutes of meeting him or her, but in Sean Munroe's case he'd been wrong. Dead wrong. The man had been a pathological liar and, God only knew, charm personified. Sean could run a scam with all the innocence of a choir boy and it wasn't until your wallet was gone that you realized you'd been had.
Sean had wanted wealth. His father had disinherited him, eventually giving the bulk of his estate to cancer research. The ranch hadn't been worked in years and wasn't worth a whole hell of a lot. It had suited Derek's purposes to be in just such an isolated area. He'd made the state an offer and moved his main operation from Texas to Montana.
It hadn't taken long for the blinders to fall from Derek's eyes. But by then it was too late to scrape Sean from his shoes. He'd met Lily.
But if he, a professional bullshit barometer, hadn't figured Munroe out, how in the hell could a woman in love see through the man's lies?
Lily rubbed her forehead. "But he said—"
"Sean said a lot of things that weren't true." God only knew he'd managed to snow Derek for several years. He'd been that good. Christ, he'd been unbelievably good. Sean Munroe had had the face of a fallen angel, and could sound so sincere, so absolutely convincing, that even when Derek had known the son of a bitch was lying, he'd been hard-pressed to believe it.
Conning a woman who loved him as passionately as Lily had loved Sean must've been a piece of cake. Sean had laughed about it. Worse, he'd mocked and taunted Derek with it. And for once in his life Derek had been powerless to control the situation.
It killed him to wonder if Sean had only claimed to love Lily because he'd always known how Derek felt. And by the time Derek realized just how many lies he'd told and what subterfuge his "friend" was perpetrating on Lily, Sean had been diagnosed with terminal cancer.
"Then how did—"
Derek tipped her face up with a finger under her chin. "We can talk more about this tomorrow. Right now you can't keep your eyes open and I want you alert and listening when we talk. You need to eat before you sleep, though." He brushed his thumb along her jaw. Her skin was cold but heated up under his touch. He dropped his hand.
"I'm not hungry."
"You're a lousy liar." He put a taunt in the words. "You just don't have the energy. No matter. You have to make the effort. How can you beat my ass if you're anorexic?"
She scooched into the bag and pulled it up over her shoulders, zipping it all the way up from the inside, and closed her eyes. "Tomorrow."
"You've got to eat something. Can't go to sleep just yet."
Lily drifted. Arrow snuffled as she always did just before she dropped off. Rio yawned, straw rustled. A branch snapped under the heavy weight of snow and made a soft plopping noise. Firelight danced on her eyelids.
She knew she should eat. She had to take care of herself or she'd be no good to her dogs. But damn it, she was comfy. And warm for the first time in hours. Her breath warmed her throat and lower face; just her eyes were visible between her fur hat and the bag. She'd let the dogs rest for a couple of hours, perhaps four, then up the team, grab something to eat and slip out while Derek was sleeping.
A smile curved her mouth as she welcomed the grayness of sleep.
"Oh no, you don't. I slaved over a hot stove to keep this warm for you. Sit up."
"Derek, go away," Lily groaned. "Tol' you, not hungry." Her stomach cramped with hunger at the smell. God only knew, she'd eat the bowl and the spoon with it if she had one gram of energy left. Unfortunately she didn't.
"Up and open."
Derek hauled her to a sitting position by grabbing the head of the sleeping bag and yanking her upright.
"Bastard," Lily slurred without opening her eyelids, which were now leaded.
"Open."
"I'm n—" She got a spoonful of warm stew shoved into her mouth.
"Chew."
She chewed. It was good.
"Swallow." He sounded amused.
Lily swallowed, then opened her mouth again like a baby bird.
He laughed. Stubborn little pain in the ass. He fed her the entire bowl. All she'd been required to do was open her mouth, chew and swallow. The sleeping bag was gently lowered so she was once again lying flat.
"Had enough?" he asked, setting the bowl aside on his own bag. She didn't answer. Out like a light. Derek shook his head as he rose.
Throwing a few more logs on the fire, he went down the line and gave all thirty-two dogs a quick once-over before removing his boots and climbing into his own bag beside Lily.
He reached over and pulled her fur hat lower on her brow, then tucked the thermal bag tightly around her head.
He gazed up at the sky. The panoply of stars, unfaded by city lights, looked brilliant, and close enough to sift through his fingers. Through the black canopy of the trees sheltering them, the moon shone a brilliant golden white.
He turned his head to watch Lily as she slept. Long lashes shadowed her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted. Derek suppressed his raging desire and maintained a tight control. Common sense ruled that he must. For now. He dare not rush her, though her response to him earlier had been encouraging. Unable to resist, he used a light finger to brush a silky strand of hair off her smooth cheek, then whispered softly, "You're going to be a hard nut, aren't you, my darling?"
Six
Lily's dreams were filled with fleeting images. Sean. Diablo. The house she'd hated from the moment her new husband had carried her over the threshold. Derek's mouth on hers, as soft as a breeze. The gentle touch of his hand against her cheek, the slide of warm fingers against her neck and down her throat. Lips followed his hand. His mouth brushed hers. Once, twice, a long pause filled with anticipation—and then again. A more lingering foray.
Instinctively, she opened her mouth to his. He'd kissed her before. All those years ago.
He'd kissed her outside the movie theater. His body sandwiching her between the cold metal of his truck and the furnace heat of his large body. The kiss had rocked Lily to her core. Admit it. She'd been scared of all that passion. Terrified that it would burn her to a crispy critter before the smoke settled and he'd be long gone. Taking her heart with him.
Sean had been the safer bet. Or so she had thought at the time. But this was a dream, and Derek's passion didn't scare her at all, here where she was safe and it was just make-believe. She opened her mouth an
d welcomed him in.
She gave a helpless moan of desire. Heat flooded her body as her tongue met his. The same as before, just the same, and yet better. His taste was familiar. The passion banked but just as compelling.
Lily gave herself up to the glory of it. The danger and comfort of it. If she fell, she knew he'd be there to catch her. Her body arched against his as he held her cradled in the safety of his arms.
Safe? No—she frowned in her sleep. Derek wasn't safe—Sean—no, God, no. Sean wasn't safe—
She didn't want to be afraid. She didn't want to think. This was her dream. Dreams weren't real.
He kissed her again, a slow, sweet, drugging kiss that rocked her to her core and made her body ache. Her heavy clothing seemed like a prison. She wanted his hands on her aching breasts. Between her legs, where she felt hot and damp. She wanted to lie naked with him and feel his mouth move down her body—
"Take off—" she said urgently against the mouth of her dream Derek as she tried to yank open her coat.
"Not here. Not now," he said with gentle amusement, pushing her hand aside with ease. "You certainly know how to test a man's forbearance, don't you, sweetheart?" he added dryly, brushing her cheek with his thumb. Like a kitten, Lily butted her head against his hand. She ached. She yearned. She wanted.
"We'll resume when you're awake enough to participate more fully. And that's a promise." Lips brushed hers once more before she felt the warmth of her sleeping bag being tugged up around her throat. The loss of his touch was devastating.
She whimpered from the loss. A gentle hand brushed a strand of hair off her cheek then lingered. "Woman of my dreams, what am I going to do with you?"
Wait, she wanted to say. Wait. I want—I want—But sleep rolled over her in an overwhelming rush.
Lily woke reluctantly before dawn, the dream still a fuzzy memory. Nightmare was more like it. It didn't matter that she'd enjoyed the dream. Any dream that included kissing Derek was classified as a nightmare. She glanced around their campsite, delaying getting up and determined to put the dream out of her mind.
The landscape was stark black and white. Ew, she didn't want to get out of the warm bag. Other teams had joined them during the night, she noticed. She hadn't heard a thing. Dogs and sleeping bags were gathered around the fire, which still burned brightly and gave off some warmth.
Derek lay facing her, asleep in his own sleeping bag several feet away. He had long lashes, she noticed. His black fur hat was pulled low over his brows, but his face was open to the elements. Didn't the man feel the cold?
She let her gaze drift from the long black lashes resting on his cheeks to his aquiline nose, his sharp cheekbones and then linger on his mouth.
She remembered the feel of those lips on hers. Remembered the taste of him. The feel of being held against his body. What she'd felt six years ago, the sexual energy between them, had scared her enough to make her retreat at a full gallop. That kind of heat could only be fleeting. Nobody could stand that kind of passion and survive. Not for long.
Part of the attraction she felt for him was the physical. He was so… big. He exuded power and strength. She'd feel completely safe from the world sheltered in his arms. It had been a long, long time since she'd felt completely safe emotionally.
And God only knew, just once she was tempted to give into the passion he always created in her when she was with him.
But the reality was, she was too intelligent to be fooled into thinking that she'd be safe for long. She knew herself too well. She'd sink into that heat, that power, and when it was withdrawn, as it would be eventually, she would have forgotten how to stand on her own two feet.
The reality was, she had only herself to rely on. Safety and security could disappear between one breath and the next.
Lily knew she had trust issues. Her mother's death had hit her hard. Her father's remarriage hadn't helped, and of course her marriage to Sean had capped off what seemed to be a losing streak. Nothing was forever.
She'd work through it. She would. And one day she'd start dating again. But this was neither the man nor the day.
Tempting as that proposition might be, she thought, wanting to sink her teeth into his lower lip as he slept. She gave herself a mental shake. No wonder she'd dreamed about Derek last night. Sneaky bastard. It was very, very rude of him to invade her dreams like that. And trust him to do it in Technicolor. The rat.
She still had sleep in her, and there was time to grab another couple of hours, but her bladder wasn't cooperating. And if she had to get up to answer the call of nature, she might as well be on her way. The sun would be up in another hour or so anyway.
She eased her way out of the warmth of the bag, careful not to wake the man sleeping so close to her. Geez, did he have any sense of personal space?
She pulled on her boots and slid out of her bag. She stowed it away, then with a quick glance around slipped into the trees above their camp.
Her butt was about to get a horrible shock, she thought with a grimace. No matter how many times she had to do this, she never got used to it.
The diffused chiffon gray of the sky cast soft, velvety shadows in the snow. Lily gazed up. It was going to be a snowy day.
A cup of coffee, a snack for the kids and they'd be on their way. She'd noticed a couple of the other mushers wandering into the trees to take care of business too. She'd like to beat them onto the trail.
The dogs hadn't stirred earlier. As her boots crunched in the snow, she checked them, deciding to wait until the most tired dog showed signs of waking. That would be Dingbat. He was always the last to get his little doggie act together in the mornings. A faint fragrance of last night's coffee and stew still hung in the air, a reminder that she would kill for a cup of coffee this morning.
Lily slowed down, enjoying the stillness of the morning and the anticipation of the day ahead. The back of her neck prickled as though someone was watching her. Silly. No one would be rude enough to watch her. They all had to go to the bathroom sometime.
While she mentally mapped the trail between here and Finger Lake she inhaled deeply. The air smelled intoxicatingly clean, of snow and pine and wood smoke.
Far enough from the others to ensure a little privacy, Lily found a handy tree and went about the unveiling ceremony with great urgency and grim reluctance. Geez, it was cold! Icy air radiated up her bare butt, and she tried to hurry.
A sharp crack shattered the stillness. A small flock of sleepy birds squawked out of a nearby tree a split second later, almost giving Lily heart failure. She held on to her garments and grabbed a spiky branch for balance. A bullet slammed into the shrub beside her, spitting bits of bark and snow into the air.
My God.
Someone was shooting at her.
Out of the blank stillness of the morning, another sharp crack split the air. The sound ricocheted off the mountains, then echoed eerily around her.
PIIING. Piiing. Piiing.
Lily looked around wildly. Where were the shots coming from? And what moron was shooting? Morning shadows still lay deep and impenetrable around trees and in the dips and valleys of the snowy monochrome landscape. The sun hadn't yet risen beyond a mere promise over the mountains behind her. Only the most meager of washed-out illumination bathed the tips of the peaks like weak spotlights gradually reflecting the bright white of the snow.
A bullet whizzed from behind her and slammed past her upper arm. A startled scream burst from her throat. "Hey!" She tried to rise, to run and hide, but stumbled against the pants still bunched around her knees. She tipped over sideways like a Weeble.
"Aaargh!" Her bare bottom smacked the snow. A mixture of blind fury fought a battle with tangible fear. Cursing, she kneeled, then got her bare behind out of the cold by pulling up her pants—all the while keeping her head lowered and her body crouched protectively.
"Damn it to hell, you moron!" she yelled at the unseen hunter as she continued with her battle against recalcitrant clothing and intimately clin
ging snow. Slapping layers and layers of shirt, sweater and coat out of her way with hands that shook, she swore. Where the hell was the zipper? Layers were great protection from the elements, but they were a bitch when one was running for her life and trying to find her own waistband. She must have pulled up seven garments and she still couldn't find the small tongue of the zipper.
Two feet away, snow sprayed up in a mini-explosion.
"Dammit to hell! Do I look like a freaking deer?"
Slithering and sliding, Lily tried to get her feet under her while attempting to zip up her pants with thickly gloved hands. Come on. Come on. Come on.
The weasel dog, whoever he was! He'd probably been watching her the whole time—Oh, God. That meant that he knew she wasn't an animal. The jerk. This was some sick game. She wished she had her own rifle so she could turn the tables and fire off a few rounds, and scare him to death.
Lily's face burned with frustration, her behind burned with cold. When had she lost the ability to dress herself, for heaven's sake? Pretty much about the same time someone had started taking potshots.
She grabbed the fingertips of her left glove with her teeth and yanked it off so she could at least get her pants done up.
As she dipped her head to see what she was doing, Lily noticed her sleeve. The blood drained from her head. The shot had torn through two thick layers. The hide of her favorite sheepskin coat sported two neat round bullet holes.
The stupid son of a bitch. She stuck a finger in the hole the bullet had made and stared at it. Had he hit her? She didn't feel any pain… Move! What the hell was she doing? No time to sit and assess the damage.
She was a sitting duck out here in her dark coat on the pristine white snow. She might as well paint a red bull's-eye around herself. The only tree or shrub within fifty feet of where she'd been was her little toilet bush. Clearly no match for a bullet. Her footprints stretched down the hill behind her like twin arrows pointing to where she now stood.
