WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

by Naomi Horton

  "I remember." It still made her go cold, just thinking about walking into that hospital room and seeing him lying there surrounded by tubes and wires.

  "You made me swear I'd never drink and drive again. That if I did, our friendship was over." He let his lips rest on her throat for a moment. "You scared the hell out of me that night, Andie. I remember looking into your eyes and realizing you weren't kidding. That if I messed up, I'd never see you again."

  "It worked, didn't it?" she teased gently.

  "Damn right." He sounded almost subdued. "I haven't broken that promise in sixteen years."

  "Well, don't get any ideas about breaking it now. That promise still holds."

  "Not a chance." He was silent for a long moment. "I don't want to lose you, Andie," he finally said very quietly. "You mean more to me than just about anything."

  Andie frowned slightly, turning in his loosened embrace so she could look at him. He looked pensive and thoughtful, his eyes holding none of the teasing she'd expected. "Connor, what are you talking about? What's going on that I should know about?"

  "I was going to ask you the same question."

  "Meaning?"

  "Beck."

  "The elder or the younger?"

  Conn didn't smile.

  Andie sighed. "Conn, I don't know what's gotten into you lately. You never used to get all bent out of shape about the men in my life. You always meddled and gave me advice I didn't need, but you never behaved like this. You're acting like a jealous husband."

  "And you've never talked about getting married before, either," he said with more feeling than she suspected he'd intended. He frowned, looking annoyed. "Hell, I don't know why I'm acting like this, either. Maybe it's losing Judith, maybe … I don't know. It just seems as though you're the only thing I have in my life that I can count on, and now you're talking about marrying DeRocher and moving to Canada."

  "I told you I haven't made up my mind yet," Andie said gently.

  "Yeah, well, if it's not DeRocher, maybe it'll be Beck. And if not him, some other guy." He looked at her for a long, thoughtful while. "I guess I just never thought about you getting married, Andie. That was always something I did." He managed a flicker of a smile. "I guess I just never realized until recently that I will lose you one day. Sooner or later, it's going to happen. And I'm having trouble dealing with that."

  "Well, you could always marry me yourself and keep it in the family." She had to laugh out loud at his expression, and she rocked forward and kissed him soundly on the mouth, astonished at how well she pretended it didn't matter. "Joke, Devlin. Just another little joke."

  He gave a grunt she couldn't quite decipher, eyeing her a little suspiciously, then nodded toward Frank and Margie, who were so engrossed with each other, they hadn't even noticed Conn. "What's going on with those two? Some problem with Becktron that no one's told me about?"

  Andie looked at Conn in exasperation. "You know, Connor, sometimes it's as though you're in another world." She gave a snort. "In another world, nothing. From another world is more like it. You really don't have a clue sometimes, do you?"

  "I don't have a clue what you're talking about," he muttered irritably. "What the hell did I say?"

  "Oh … forget it!" Rolling her eyes in frustration, she shoved him off the chaise and got to her feet, snatching up her towel and wrapping it around her shoulders. "I'm going for a walk."

  "With Marc Beck?"

  "If I can find him, yes."

  "Forget it." He fell into step beside her and dropped his arm casually around her shoulders, tugging her against him as they walked into the lodge. "We're going riding. Up to Wolf Lake. I've talked with the guy who rents the horses and it's all set up. And the chef's putting together a lunch to take with us."

  "Riding? Lunch?" Andie stopped dead and turned to look up at him. "Connor, that's nuts! It's supposed to rain, for one thing. In fact, the weather cast says it might snow tonight at higher altitudes. We can't just—"

  "Why not?"

  "I—" She stopped. "What do you mean, why not?"

  "Just what I said. Desmond Beck won't be back until later tonight, and there's nothing urgent we need to work on. You used to love horseback riding."

  "Well, I … still do. I guess." She thought about it, the idea definitely intriguing. "I haven't been on a horse in about a hundred years."

  "All the more reason to go." He grinned at her coaxingly. "Come on, Andie. You're always telling me I work too hard. That I need to take off some time to just have fun. After the Becktron deal goes through, we're going to be up to our necks in work – who knows when we'll get another opportunity like this. I say we go for it while we have the chance."

  It was tempting. Very tempting. "Only if you admit that this doesn't have anything to do with the fact we haven't spent a day together just having fun for years. Or that I think you work too hard. You're just trying to get me away from Marc Beck."

  His grin broadened. "Damn right."

  "I could just invite him to come with us," she taunted.

  "Too dangerous. The trail up to Wolf Lake is pretty narrow in places. I'd hate like hell to see him go over a cliff."

  "You mentioned lunch."

  "Four courses. Wine. Dessert." The grin widened wickedly. "Triple-Threat Chocolate Surprise."

  "Triple bypass is more like it," Andie said with a laugh, knowing the battle was already half over. "You're bad news, Devlin. You always were."

  "The worst." Laughing, he dropped his arm around her shoulders again and pulled her against him, tucking her comfortably into the curve of his body. "I grabbed your leather jacket out of the trunk of the car, but bring along a sweater."

  "And if it rains?"

  "We'll eat chocolate pudding."

  Andie laughed again, wondering why she let him manipulate her so easily. "It'll lead to some speculation amongst the troops, having us disappear together for the day."

  "So let's take Margie. She could use a day off. And it's not like we're secret lovers or something."

  As she knew only too well, Andie thought. But she managed a smile. "I don't think Margie would appreciate being dragged up to Wolf Lake to play chaperon for the day. She's got other things on her mind. But," she added with a sly, sidelong glance at him, "I'll bet Marc would love to come with us."

  Conn's retort – earthy and pungently Anglo-Saxon – was just two words long.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  "So, was this a good idea, or what?" Conn grinned broadly. "Admit it, darlin'. This was a good idea."

  Andie was ahead of him on the narrow, winding trail, riding a chestnut gelding whose glossy hide was just about the exact shade of red-brown as Andie's hair.

  She tipped her head back and laughed, not even bothering to look around at him. "Yeah, Devlin, this was a good idea. As long as it doesn't rain."

  "It's not going to rain." Although he winced a little as he said it, giving the sky a speculative glance. It didn't look promising, to be truthful about it. Dark clouds were piling up around the crests of the mountains to their right, and he could have sworn he'd heard a rumble of thunder a few minutes ago.

  But he wasn't about to tell Andie that.

  Family rumor had it that there was some Ogalala Sioux blood in Andie's background somewhere, and whenever he saw her on horseback, Conn was inclined to believe it. She sat the chestnut as though born to ride, well balanced and relaxed, keeping her weight in the stirrups and not the saddle, adjusting to the gelding's stride without even thinking about it. It took no effort at all to see her flattened along the back of a spotted pony, flying across open prairie with the wind in her hair.

  The vision made him grin and he lifted his face to the sun, glad he'd come up with this last-minute scheme. Andie had been right – the main idea had been to keep her away from Marc Beck for the day – but there was no denying they'd both benefit from a day off. It had been a hell of a long time since he'd just kicked back and had some fun. Lo
nger still since he'd kicked back with Andie. And who knew how much longer they'd have together?

  The trail wound upward between Wolf and Fortress mountains, following Wolf Creek as it twisted and snaked its way through rock and dense forest. In some places, the trail was wide and gently sloped, canopied by huge pine and mountain hemlock and Pacific yew. In others, it was no more than a narrow thread inching along the shoulder of one mountain or the other, solid rock to one side and a sheer drop to the other.

  Wolf Creek fretted along beside them, as clear as glass and bitterly cold, the bottle-green water rushing noisily down the rock-strewn streambed. The mountains had closed in and rose on all sides, their green-cloaked peaks scalloping the sky, dotted here and there with outcroppings of rock and patches of snow.

  And then, suddenly, they were at the top.

  Andie reined up so abruptly that the buckskin mare Conn was riding nearly collided with the gelding. The mare gave a snort and reared slightly, but Conn reined her in sharply and brought her up beside Andie.

  The mountains fell away to either side, opening up a alpine meadow so lush with wildflowers that the whole scene looked like a Monet watercolor, just an exuberant explosion of blues and pinks, whites and yellows, violets … every color of the rainbow. The air was filled with their perfume and Conn took a deep breath of it, grinning at the expression on Andie's face.

  "Nice, huh?"

  "It's incredible!" She looked around at him, her eyes sparkling with delight. "How did you know?"

  Conn shrugged, feeling almost ridiculously pleased at her reaction. "One of the chambermaids was telling me about it. She and her boyfriend were up here yesterday. She said the timing's perfect – that in another week most of the color will be gone. So, I figured it was a real shame to waste it…"

  "You know, you can really be a sweetheart when you want to be." Laughing, she reached across and slipped her hand into one of his. "This almost makes up for all those nasty cracks you've been making about Alain."

  "If a bunch of flowers get you this mellowed out, I can hardly wait 'til we get to the Triple-Threat Chocolate Surprise."

  There was a sudden low rumble from somewhere behind them and Andie looked around thoughtfully. "That, Tonto, was thunder. I thought you said we wouldn't get rain. Some weatherman you are."

  "Is it raining?"

  "Not yet, hotshot, but by the look of those clouds, it's going to be pouring before long."

  Conn glanced at the sky. Even as he watched, dark clouds spilled over the crest of the mountain toward them, turbulent and bilious with rain. He swore under his breath, then pulled the mare's head out of a patch of clover and gave her a nudge with his heels. "Wolf Lake is about a mile ahead. And I'd say we'd be smart to quit talkin' and start ridin'."

  Andie tightened the reins on the gelding, balancing herself easily in the saddle as he snorted and pranced half around, throwing his head impatiently. She looked doubtful. "It's not going to be any drier up there than back here. I hate to say this, but maybe we should head back."

  "We've come too far – it's between us and the lodge. And I don't want to be caught by a bad thunderstorm on that ridge over Fortress Mountain. Even if we don't get nuked by lightning, that trail looks like it would wash out in a heavy rain."

  He saw a flicker of concern on Andie's face and grinned. "Hey, trust me. I know this area like I know my own backyard, remember? Dad and I camped all over these mountains when I was a kid."

  "The last time you said, 'Hey, trust me,' I wound up with my leg in a cast for seven weeks."

  "So how was I supposed to know the wheel was going to come off the wagon when we went over that last bump?"

  "And how did I ever let you talk me into riding down Suicide Hill in that crummy old wagon of yours in the first place?" Andie tugged the gelding around and kicked him gently in the ribs. "It's a miracle we didn't break our necks."

  "But we almost made it, didn't we?" Conn reminded her with a wide grin. "It was a hell of a ride while it lasted."

  "Until we hit the crest of that last hill and were airborne for about fifty feet. Until we crash-landed and the wheel fell off and we both did cartwheels the rest of the way down the hill." She grinned back. "But yeah, it was a hell of a ride while it lasted."

  Andie's eyes locked with his and Conn was suddenly twelve years old again and having the time of his life. They'd had something special back then. Still had something pretty special: a friendship durable enough to survive over two decades' worth of ups and downs, bad decisions, good decisions, marriages, divorces, love affairs, successes and failures.

  He felt something well up through him – a warm flood of emotions that caught him by surprise, intense and confusing in their complexity. He grinned at her again, then pulled the mare around and dug his heels into her ribs. "Come on, Cochise," he called to Andie as he galloped by her. "Let's ride!"

  Andie gave a whoop and brought the gelding around, nudging him with her knees and loosening the reins. He gave a snort and half reared, then was streaking after the mare at a full gallop, ears back, long neck stretched out.

  He caught up with the mare about halfway across the meadow and pulled ahead, with Andie laughing so hard, she was having trouble staying in the saddle, hair flying every which way, having no idea at all where she was going. The mare closed the gap and then she and the gelding were pounding down the long slope toward the end of the meadow at a flat-out gallop, ears back, hooves churning up bits of grass and dirt, muscles rippling with each long, powerful stride.

  Conn shouted something as they neared the trees and Andie slowed the gelding, having to struggle to get him back under control. He slewed around, fighting the bit and rearing, throwing his head impatiently as she reined him in tightly. Conn pulled the mare up and the two horses jostled and nipped at each other, blowing hard and dancing around.

  Conn was still laughing, his cheeks flushed with the wind, hair tousled, looking about nineteen again. And for a split second Andie could almost believe they had gone back in time, that her dreams had come true and she and Conn were together as they'd once promised to be.

  She shook the illusion off impatiently and pointed down through the trees to where she could see a glint of blue. "I see water – and a picnic table. But it doesn't look very sheltered."

  "I have a feeling that Plan A is going to have to be scrapped." Conn nodded at the sky. "We're not in the clear yet, darlin'." A rumble of not-too-distant thunder seemed to agree with him. "I suggest we execute Plan B."

  "That being?"

  "That we hightail it to the other side of the lake. The lodge has three rental cabins over there that they use during hunting and ski season. We can take cover in one of them until the rain blows over."

  "If it blows over." She was looking back at the turbulent clouds rolling ever closer.

  "It will," Conn replied easily. "Trust me, darlin'." He tugged the mare's head around and poked her in the ribs with his heel to get her moving. "But the closer those clouds get, the better Plan B is starting to look."

  "I second that." Andie gave the sky one last doubtful look, then nudged the chestnut along the narrow, winding trail that led down through the trees toward the lake.

  Andie felt the first drop of rain a few minutes later, just as they cleared the trees and came into the open beside the lake. It hit her cheek, a big, lazy splash of cold water that made her blink, and she looked at the darkening sky warily.

  But once she got a good look at Wolf Lake, she forgot about the rain. The south flank of Wolf Mountain towered above them, its top wreathed in cloud, a wall of sheer rock sweeping straight down to disappear into the crystalline depths of the still, deep lake lying at its feet. The other three sides sloped gently down to the water, ablaze with wildflowers and dotted here and there with clumps of cottonwood and tall pine trees.

  The setting looked like a postcard, but even as Andie gazed at the scene, spellbound, a sudden breeze riffled the water's surface and the reflected mountains and clouds shimmered
and vanished. And then, abruptly, it was raining. Huge drops of icy water pattered around them, making the horses snort and dance, and Andie glanced at the sky again. It was a solid sheet of roiling, black cloud, and a thin, cold wind had picked up, moaning through the trees. Lightning flickered behind them, and a moment or two later the valley shook under the rolling surf of thunder.

  It died to rumbling echoes, and Andie gave Conn an eloquent look, saying nothing.

  He just grinned at her, the wind ruffling his tousled dark hair. "Not to worry, darlin'. I've got it covered. Just keep thinking about that Triple-Threat Chocolate Surprise."

  A gust of wind dashed a handful of chilly rain square into Andie's face and she swore breathlessly, battling the gelding as he tried to turn back up the path. Ears flattened, he fought the bit, but she got him turned onto the path that meandered along the edge of the lake. She urged him into a fast canter as a rumble of thunder rolled down the valley and another sharp gust of wind whipped across the lake, making the tall pines sway and moan.

  There was another crack of thunder, this one sharp and close, and the gelding didn't need Andie's urging to break into a gallop. It was raining in earnest now, a hard, slashing rain that was cold enough to take Andie's breath away, and she tucked her head down as the gelding pounded down the path.

  And then, with no warning at all, he went out from under her and she was cart-wheeling over his head.

  She landed flat on her back with a thud that practically jarred her teeth loose, and she lay there, breathless and stunned, as the cloud-roiled sky spun gently above her. She was vaguely aware of the gelding lunging to his feet, one shoulder and flank smeared with mud and grass. Of another horse careening to a stop right beside her, shod hooves flashing. Of someone looming above her, kneeling beside her, shouting at her through the rain and wind.