WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

by Naomi Horton

  Conn.

  She squinted against the rain falling in her eyes and managed a rough smile. "Did I win?"

  "Nah. Not even close." Conn was on his knees beside her, his face white. "You only did one full turn before you hit dirt. I still beat you – that day I got thrown, I did a double cartwheel."

  "Maybe next time." Still badly winded, she closed her eyes. "Man, that hurts."

  "Damn it, Andie—" His voice vibrated with worry. "Don't move, all right? Just don't move until—"

  "I'm okay." Managing another weak grin, she opened her eyes and started to sit up. "Nothing's broken."

  Rainwater was sluicing down the neck of her jacket, soaking into the sweater and blouse beneath it, and she shivered violently. "Is the horse all right? Is he okay?"

  Two strong hands grasped her shoulders and pushed her gently back against the sopping wet grass. "Quit worrying about the damned horse. The horse is fine. Quit flailing around and—"

  "Connor, I'm all right. Or will be if you'd let me sit up – I'm drowning, lying here like this!" She pushed his hands aside and struggled into a sitting position, head swimming. "I'm okay. Just need to catch my breath…"

  Conn slipped his arm around Andie's shoulders to support her, trying to shelter her from the pelting rain with his own body as she sat huddled there, looking pale and dazed. "Damn it, Andie, you scared the hell out me," he got through gritted teeth, his heart still hammering. "I thought you'd really done it this time, lady."

  "I'm okay."

  She shivered again and Conn pulled the collar of her jacket tight around her throat. He brushed a handful of soaking hair gently from her face with his free hand, cradling her against him, and looked around them. It was raining even harder now, that kind of heavy rain that showed no signs of letting up anytime soon, and he swore under his breath.

  This was all his fault. If he hadn't been so intent on keeping Marc Beck away from her, they'd both be down in the lodge right now, sitting in front of a crackling log fire drinking brandy, warm and dry. If she'd been hurt…

  Conn hugged her against him as tightly as he dared, closing his eyes for a shaken moment. If she'd been hurt, he'd never have forgiven himself.

  "M-maybe we'd better get going," she said through chattering teeth. "We're getting soaked out here, and a piece of that Triple-Threat Chocolate Surprise would go down really good about now."

  Conn managed a rough laugh, giving her a fierce hug and burying his face in her soaking hair. Even the thought of a world without Andie in it chilled him to the bone. Never again having her razz him about something, never again seeing that slow, mischievous smile tilt her mouth to one side, never again turning around at times during his day and just seeing her there…

  Gently he eased back on his heels to look down at her, squinting against the rain. "Do you think you can ride?"

  All his concern got was an impatient look. "Of course I can ride. I'm just a little winded, not mortally wounded."

  "You came down like a sack of cement. You might have done more damage than you think, and I don't want you to—"

  "Thanks a lot." She gave her head a shake and sprayed water in all directions. "Like a sack of cement! I've seen you make some pretty ungraceful dismounts in your time, mister."

  In spite of himself, Conn had to smile. She didn't sound hurt. In fact, she sounded pretty normal.

  A flicker of jagged lightning creased the sky and they both ducked instinctively, wincing as the thunder cannonaded around them a split second later, a crashing explosion of noise so loud, it made Conn's ears ring.

  "Oh, damn!"

  Andie grabbed his arm suddenly, eyes wide, and Conn felt his heart turn over. "What? Andie, what is it? Are you—?"

  "Conn – the horses! Quick – catch the horses!"

  Conn looked over his shoulder in time to see the two horses wheel around and bolt up the path, eyes rolling with fear, reins and stirrups flying.

  Swearing ferociously, he lunged to his feet, taking two strides after them before realizing it was useless. He watched them disappear into the lashing rain and mist and swore again with enthusiasm, raking his dripping hair out of his eyes.

  "I suppose," Andie said calmly, "that our Triple-Threat Chocolate Surprise was in one of those saddlebags."

  "You got it," Conn growled. The rain pounded down across his shoulders, plastering his denim shirt to his skin, and he could feel it running down his ribs like small cold fingers. He looked around at Andie, finding her on her feet. "How do you feel?"

  "Wet." She grinned at him, then bent down stiffly to retrieve her camera case from a puddle of muddy water. "What now, Tonto?"

  "The cabins are just down there." Conn nodded toward the lake, squinting into the rain. It was coming down harder than ever now, the wind lashing the small, bitterly cold drops into a stinging curtain. He reached for Andie's hand and her small fingers folded around his. "Run…!"

  Skidding on wet leaves and sheets of glistening, slippery rock, they raced through the pelting downpour, Conn half dragging her as they hit level ground. A small log cabin appeared from out of the mist and rain and they hit the door at a dead run, staggering into the dim shelter, helpless with laughter.

  "I don't believe this!" Conn slammed the door closed on the storm, still laughing. Rainwater sluiced off him, soaking the pine floor, and he gave himself a shake. "Sorry, darlin'. I guess this whole picnic idea was a bad one all around."

  Andie plucked at her soaking wet jacket, wrinkling her nose expressively. "Well, I'll admit the special effects could use some work. But—" she started wringing water out of her hair "—the picnic was a great idea."

  Conn gave a snort of laughter. "Aside from the fact we're half-drowned and stranded in the middle of nowhere and our lunch went south, you mean."

  "Details, details." She grinned up at him, licking rainwater from her lips. "Come on, Devlin, lighten up! We've been wet before. Heck, we've even been stranded before. Remember the time you, Joey Michaelson and I went camping up near Mount Saint Helens? We got separated and Joey thought we'd caught a ride home with someone else and he left us there. And as for our picnic lunch…" She shrugged. "Well, that Triple-Threat Chocolate Surprise was probably overrated anyway."

  "Probably." Conn slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. "You're a good sport. Either one of my ex-wives would have had my head – or worse – on a stake by now." He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over the back of a wooden chair where it dripped noisily.

  Andie shivered violently, looking around the small cabin. It was small and rustic but comfortably furnished with a couple of big Colonial chairs and a sofa grouped around a big stone fireplace. Two big oval, braided rugs covered the pine floors, and a simple pine table and four matching ladder-back chairs sat in one end of the room beside a big window that overlooked the lake. A tiny galley kitchen was tucked in one corner, separated from the rest of the room by an island counter, and in the opposite corner was a set of bunk beds with bright red spreads.

  "I'll get a fire started," Conn said from behind her. "How about checking to see if that lantern on the table has any kerosene in it? That looks like a package of matches beside it."

  Andie nodded mutely, gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering. She gave the lantern a shake, relieved to find it almost full. Fumbling with the waterproof package of matches, she finally managed to get one out and strike it. The wick caught after a moment and she replaced the chimney, turning the flame down until it stopped smoking. The warm glow seemed to shove the shadows and chill back a bit, but it was still cold and she shivered again.

  Hugging herself, she walked over to stand by the fireplace. Conn was busy with kindling and a crumpled ball of yellowed newspaper, peering into the grate with a frown of concentration. Flame flickered to life, growing, and he fed it a few sticks of dry kindling.

  He gave a grunt of satisfaction. "That's got it. It'll start to warm up pretty soon."

  Andie just nodded again, huddling as clo
se to the crackling flames as she dared, fighting the racking shivers as a pool of water grew around her feet. Her hair drooled down the back of her neck and she moved aside stiffly as Conn got to his feet.

  Conn rummaged through various kitchen cupboards until he found a kettle, and he put it under the one tap above the small sink, not really expecting there to be water. But to his surprise it came out with a gush, a little rusty at first but then as clear as crystal, straight from the lake and as cold as ice.

  The old wood stove took longer to get going. The rest of the kindling was damp, and it took a couple of tries to get it to burn, but he coddled it until it caught properly. Then he carefully stacked on a couple of dry logs and closed the cover, adjusting the flue to get a good draft.

  Andie was still standing by the fireplace where he'd left her, arms wrapped around herself, looking miserable and cold. A quick search of the storage cupboards uncovered a stash of big towels and a couple of blankets, and he carried them across, dropping a towel around her neck and tossing the blankets on a nearby chair.

  "How are you doing?" He started gently toweling her wet hair, feeling her shiver. "You look like that spaniel pup I hauled out of the river when I was fifteen."

  "I'll live," she mumbled through towel and wet hair.

  "Okay…" He gave her hair one more rub, then stepped back and eyed her thoughtfully. "Strip."

  "You wish." Still shivering, Andie started rubbing her hair with the towel. "I'll dry out in a few minutes."

  "In a few days, maybe." Conn had to smile. "Come on, Andie, get 'em off or I'll take 'em off for you. You're soaked to the skin and half-frozen on top of it. There's a time for maidenly modesty, but this isn't it."

  "Is this the line you use on all the women you take to lunch?" She glared up at him through a tangle of wet hair.

  "Only the good-looking ones." He grinned down at her, thinking idly that even soaking wet, with her hair plastered down and not a speck of makeup in sight, she was still gorgeous.

  Funny, how he took that for granted sometimes, seeing her but not really looking at her. Not the way a man usually looks at a gorgeous woman. Not the way Alain DeRocher and Marc Beck had been looking at her.

  Frowning, he reached out and pulled her jacket off her shoulders, then grabbed the lower edge of her blue sweater and tugged it up. "Lift your arms."

  She lifted them obediently and he pulled the sweater over her head and tossed it aside, but when he reached out to undo the top button of her blouse, she slapped his hand away. "I'll do it."

  "Chicken." Grinning, he turned away from her and started unbuttoning his shirt. He stripped it off and draped it over the back of a chair, then started rubbing his arms and shoulders dry with another towel. "Tell me when you're decent."

  Andie dabbed at a trickle of water wandering down her cheek, staring distrustfully at Conn's broad, muscled back. She shivered again suddenly, then tossed the towel aside with a resigned sigh and started to peel out of her blouse and soaking jeans. Even her bra and panties were soaked through and she stood there for an indecisive moment, then peeled them off, too, deciding that Conn was right about there being a time and place for modesty.

  She rubbed herself with the towel until her skin glowed, then wrapped one of the blankets around herself and knotted it firmly, hanging her dripping clothes over the edge of the woodbox. The fire crackled comfortably and Andie could already feel the chill in the room starting to lift. Combing her hair back with her hands, she turned to tell Conn that he could turn around now.

  And instead just stood there with her mouth half-open, transfixed.

  He was standing with his back to her, whistling softly, as naked as the day he'd been born. His jeans and briefs lay in a sopping pile on the floor beside him and he was toweling his torso dry.

  Powerless to help herself, Andie watched as the lamplight played over the contours of his rain-damp body. She'd forgotten how well proportioned he was, broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, with long, well-muscled legs and the grace and economy of movement of the natural athlete.

  He half turned toward her, glancing up and catching her stare. Completely unembarrassed, he straightened and calmly draped one of the blankets around his hips, nodding toward the stove. "I'll see if I can scrounge up some tea or coffee or something."

  "I, um … will help you." To her annoyance, Andie felt a hot blush spill across her cheeks and she turned away and walked toward what looked like a pantry cupboard, furious at her childish reaction to an innocent situation.

  Wishing her cheeks would stop burning, she fumbled with the animalproof catch on the cupboard, finally managing to get it undone, then wrenched the door open.

  There was nothing inside but a few big metal canisters, but when she pulled one of them toward her, she realized it was full. It took a minute to pry the tightly sealed top off, but when she finally got it open and peered inside, she gave a mutter of satisfaction. "Well, we won't starve, anyway."

  "What did you find?" Conn appeared beside her suddenly, his bare arm pressing against her shoulder.

  "Soup mixes – four, five different kinds. Dried vegetables. Beans. What's this?" She pulled out a bag and peeked inside. "Lentils."

  "Powdered milk." Conn had opened one of the other canisters and was rummaging through it. "Sugar. Flour. Rice."

  "Hot-chocolate mix. Tinned milk." Andie was rifling through the smaller tins stacked on a lower shelf. "Baked beans. Chili – Texas-style, extrahot. That sounds like it has possibilities." She pulled the heavy tin out and set it aside. "Some tinned veggies. More soup."

  "Pasta."

  Andie reached for another big canister just as Conn did and his forearm brushed against hers, their hands colliding. The sensation of his bare skin against hers sent an odd little tingle through Andie, almost like an electric shock, and she drew her arm back self-consciously. "Sorry. Go ahead."

  She swallowed, feeling silly and awkward for some reason, vibrantly aware of how close he was standing, of the warmth radiating off his bare chest, the scent of his rain-damp skin.

  As he pulled the lid off the canister, his arm touched hers and he left it pressed against her, warm and damp. "Tea. Coffee."

  Conn's voice sounded oddly tight and she glanced up at him just as he looked at her and as his gaze hit hers, Andie felt another little tingle shoot through her. There was something in his eyes that made her breath catch slightly, an awareness she'd never seen there before – awareness of her, not just as Andie, but as a woman. Awareness of himself. Of the fact they were alone up here, half-naked and surrounded by firelight and storm.

  A flood of memories hit her – memories of making love with him in a cabin much like this one. Vital, vivid memories of exactly what it had been like: the slick whisper of flesh on flesh in the firelit shadows that night, the way he'd filled her, heavy, solid, male. The weight of his body on hers, more erotic than anything she could remember. The things she'd seen in his eyes as he'd moved within the tender prison of her body.

  The package of soup mix she'd been holding hit the floor with a thump and she started slightly. She managed to tear her gaze from Conn's, breathing unsteadily, and she reached up to brush her damp hair off her cheek in a nervous gesture she caught halfway through. "I… Soup would be nice. Don't you think?"

  "Yeah." His voice was rough and he sounded distracted, as though soup was the last thing on his mind. "Soup'll be fine."

  But she made no move to pick up the package of soup and neither did Conn. Made no move to turn away, and neither did Conn. There was a crash of thunder that made the windowpanes rattle, but she barely noticed, aware of nothing but the rhythmic beat of her own heart, the heat from Conn's bare arm, the sound of his breathing.

  And then, for no reason at all, she found herself turning toward him, lifting her head to look up at him. And wasn't even surprised to find his mouth just there, touching hers, lips brushing hers lightly, no more pressure than the warmth of his breath. She let her eyes slide closed and put her hands out to s
teady herself, palms resting on his bare ribs, and he settled his hands on her shoulders, fingers curling lightly around the back of her neck, warm and strong, yet so gentle it was almost a caress.

  His mouth made another pass across hers, barely touching, the tip of his tongue caressing her lower lip. Her lips parted of their own accord and he kissed her very gently, just a brief pressure of his mouth on hers, tongue sliding between her lips then away before she was even fully aware of it. His lips closed gently on her lower one for an instant; then he touched the bow of her upper lip with his tongue again, a silken caress that made her shiver.

  Lightly, she ran her fingertips up his chest, brushing the hard nub of his nipple and hearing his breath catch ever so slightly, nails catching in the wiry hair as she slid her fingers slowly through it. Wanting, needing to touch him. Tasting the heat of his breath on her mouth and wanting more, touching his lips with the tip of her tongue, feeling them part. Daring to kiss him lightly, letting her mouth rest on his, sliding her tongue along the cleft between his parted lips and finding his there … the first teasing touch, silk on silk, headily erotic.

  Too erotic. It made her dizzy and confused, and she turned her head away, let it drop forward until she was resting her forehead on his wide chest, eyes closed, feeling shaky and suddenly very warm. Wondering what was happening. Why he was letting her do this, why she was letting herself do this…

  His fingers caressed the side of her throat, then her shoulders, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her ear, her throat. And then, finally, he drew his hands lingeringly from her shoulders and stepped back from her.

  "Vegetable okay?"

  She drew in a very deep, careful breath. "Yes," she whispered, not even daring to look at him. "Fine. That's fine."

  And then he stepped away and was gone, the air suddenly chill again, and Andie took another deep breath and looked around. He was standing by the sink, frowning a little as he read the directions on the package.

  "I think—" Her voice was so hoarse, she had to swallow. "I think all you have to do is add boiling water."