She dropped to her knees and shrugged off her knapsack. Blindly, she stuck her hand down the inside edge and grabbed a lightweight package about half the size of a brick. It took less than a minute for her to shake out the solar blanket and wrap it around the prone form. Once she’d rolled him onto the thin Mylar sheet and tucked in all his extremities, Manon took a second to think.
The man who was once a grizzly was a meteorologist named Bartholomew Cain. She recognized him, once she stopped being terrified long enough to actually look. His current mountain-man beard and mullet didn’t hide his strong face or dark eyes. At this point, she’d recognize him anywhere; she’d spent long enough staring at his picture.
Bartholomew Cain worked for North Star Cable and had been reported as missing a little over three weeks ago by his employer. The RCMP had forwarded the report and photos to various government agencies. Manon had been all over it. Something about the man in the pictures drew her in. The candid shots of him in jeans at a corporate retreat were hotter than hell. Not that she should have noticed since the photos would most likely be used for body identification. What she read in his coworkers’ comments made her more interested in him. He was in charge of the semi-annual company picnics because everyone agreed he grilled like a pro. Cooking was sexy. He was captain of the softball team, and nothing was hotter than a man in baseball uniform. But the ultimate draw was the fact her missing meteorologist was the go-to guy for computer help in his department. Manon would do naughty, naughty things to have a tech guy who looked like him at her personal disposal, considering that her own IT department had created an error code just for her.
The Mounties’ missing person report noted he’d never returned from his two week winter camping vacation. She’d hit every campsite and picnic area she could but hadn’t found a trace of him. She’d even run searches on her days off. Manon couldn’t explain why she was so driven, so she didn’t try. She kept looking, knowing she was going to be the one to find him. Now she had, and she didn’t know how to save him.
On the upside, the truck was a viable option again, now that the bear had helped her find the keys. The downside was she had no way to transport a naked man without frostbite becoming a serious concern. She didn’t want to freeze off parts he was going to want to use later. The blanket was only useful as long as he was still. He would be much easier to move if he were clothed, but that meant leaving him while she returned to her vehicle. She had a set of large coveralls and some oversized galoshes in the truck that would fit him.
She didn’t have a choice. Manon bent over and laid her hand on his matted sandy curls. His head radiated heat. “I’ll be right back. I promise,” she whispered.
The path to the road was familiar now. She didn’t bother to turn off the snowmobile while she unlocked the toolbox which was bolted to the truck bed. She grabbed the change of clothes and let the lid fall closed, not bothering to latch it again before she raced back.
His eyes were open now. The man winced as she rolled and bent his limbs into the appropriate sleeves and legs of the coveralls but he didn’t actively fight her.
After she jammed the second boot onto his bare foot, she took his warm hand in hers. “Okay, time to go.” She sat him up and wedged one of her knees between his legs. “We’re going to put you on the snowmobile, but you are going to have to help me, big fella.”
He threw his arms around her shoulders. It would have been entirely unprofessional of her to notice how huge his biceps were and that his forearms were as solid as steel against her back. She also hadn’t noticed that for a naked man in a snow bank, the man formerly known as grizzly didn’t have a problem with shrinkage.
She had to help him swing his leg across the padded seat. He wobbled a little as she slid in front of him. Manon didn’t have a chance to tell him to hold on. He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed until his chest was pressed against her so hard she could feel his heart thumping. He ducked his head against her neck. Manon didn’t think she offered much of a wind break, but she’d provide what protection she could. His warm breath on her neck under her hair made it a challenge to keep her attention on the ground.
He didn’t want to let go when they reached the truck. His grip tightened to a near rib-cracking grip before Manon’s repeated mantra of “we’re here, you’re safe, we have to get you inside” seemed to penetrate.
She threw him into the passenger seat, slammed the door and raced around to the driver’s side. She wasn’t completely in the seat before she jammed the key into the ignition. The engine caught and turned over. “Yeah, baby!” she crowed.
Then it died.
“Fuck, no.” She cranked the ignition again. And a third time. She kept getting the same result: catch, turn over, die. It wasn’t the battery. She had a full tank of gas. Manon didn’t have a clue what was going wrong. “I don’t suppose you know engines, do you?” she asked her passenger.
He shook his head.
“Can you understand me?”
He nodded.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Bar…” he choked out before a cough wracked his body.
Manon reached behind her seat and pulled out a bottle of water. She twisted the cap off and handed it to him. The liquid was chilled but not solid. It was warmer out than she’d thought. The exterior thermostat had shown a balmy five degrees below freezing. The fact the water in the back hadn’t frozen in the time she’d been out of the vehicle confirmed the truck’s electronic sensors still worked. If only the motor would.
“It’s okay, Bartholomew.” She stumbled over the unfamiliar sounds. “I wanted to see if you knew it. We’re good, but we have a slight problem. This truck isn’t moving, and I can’t call for a pick up because the storm is glitching the satellites. So we are going to have to make ourselves comfortable right here until somebody comes to find us. It’s not heated but I want you to stay in the cab. I’m going to go—”
He locked her wrist in his grip. “No.”
“Unless that’s your car, and you have the keys someplace I don’t want to think about, we need to find some shelter. I need to go—”
“No.”
He wasn’t letting her loose. He held on like he was on the edge, and she was the only thing keeping him from going over. She wasn’t about to let him fall. She covered his hand with hers. “I’m not taking off on the snowmobile and leaving you. I have a tent and a portable heater in the back. It’s rated for the cold. I need about fifteen minutes to set it up. I’ll come back for you. I promise.”
His nostrils flared as he considered her words. His fingers slowly unclenched, and he peeled his hand off her arm.
She’d been drawn to his pictures but they were nothing compared to the force of his personality. Manon couldn’t help but be in awe of his strength—both physically and mentally. She didn’t know how he could have kept himself alive out here. And now he trusted her to do the job. She wasn’t about to let him down. She pulled the solar blanket over his head and gathered it like a hood, pushing the edges into his fists. “I’ll be right back.”
Every driver in the north worth their salt had an emergency kit in the car for situations like this. Manon’s was just a little more elaborate due to her job. She’d expanded the standard candles and blankets and such to a four-season tent and sub-zero rated sleeping bags, and they never left the truck unless it was for her to air them out and immediately replace them. She had never been so grateful for what her boss called her ‘over-reactive nature’ and ‘stubborn streak.’
The clearing would have been the ideal spot for the tent, but Manon didn’t want to be too far from the vehicle when help came. She also wasn’t keen on all the blood-soaked snow and the fact the coyotes were familiar with that area. There was a little cove at the edge of the road that’d work just as well. She hoisted the tent bag’s strap over her shoulder and grabbed an axe with her free hand.
Manon waded through the thigh-high snow in the ditch and back up the steep slope o
f the far side. It was as perfect as she was going to find. She tromped down a circle of snow until it was wide enough for the tent’s base. Then she went after the trees with the axe. Half a dozen pines and spruces sacrificed their bottom boughs to provide some insulation and padding to keep the tent off the ground. The poles slid in quickly and she made a quick job of anchoring the base.
Her second trip was for a portable heater and gear, an armful of sleeping bags and the thin foam underlays for them. The third was for her gym bag with a change of clothes, a sack of bottled waters, her thermal lunch kit and a jumbo box of protein bars. Her last trip was for him.
The path through the ditch was better, but it was hard going. They walked sideways more than in single file; he had one arm over her shoulders and she led him by his other hand. Manon brushed both of them off as best she could before she bent the tent flap back and got them inside.
She pushed him onto the corner of the unrolled sleeping bag. “Let me get the heater going, Bartholomew.”
“Call me Bear.”
“We’ll get to that.”
Chapter 3
He couldn’t believe her nerve. She should be terrified. Any normal woman in proximity to someone who could turn into a grizzly, without knowing the trigger, would be. Then he smelled the adrenaline pouring off her after she zipped the tent flap closed, sealing them in from the outside breeze. Her terror didn’t make him feel any better but the bear appreciated her strength and survival instinct.
“Who are you?” His voice croaked from disuse.
“My name is Manon Martin. I’m a conservation officer.”
She pronounced her surname Mar-tahn, the French way. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her while she quickly organized their precious supplies in the tent and lit the tiny heater. It was more than the fact it had been a lifetime ago since he had seen another person up close. It was that he knew how her hair flowed over his skin and the scent of her, all sweat and soap and pine. Something had rumbled deep in his chest when he held onto her for the ride back from the clearing. Perhaps being locked in a tent with her wasn’t the safest idea for either of them. He couldn’t stare at her all night, no matter how much he wanted to, without giving in to the urge to get close to her again. He wouldn’t let her go for hours. Days. Days. His brain latched onto the distraction.
“Date?” he asked.
“March twenty-eighth. You were reported missing about three weeks ago.”
He’d figured it had been about a month, including his vacation time, but he’d lost track at about day twenty-two. It had been thirty-three days since life as he’d known it had ended. Thirty-three days and nights of hell. How could it have only been a month? His breath came faster as the extent of the loss hit.
Her eyes squinted shut and then opened wide, the pupil taking over the near black iris. “You doing okay there, Bear?”
He curtailed further conversation when his stomach roared. Supper the night before had been a deer carcass, freshly killed and skinned. The night before that had been nothing.
“Crap, sorry.” Manon tore open the box of protein bars and grabbed a handful of them. She even opened the wrappers before handing them over.
They ate in silence. Manon nibbled at hers, alternating with small sips of water. He ate the first two bars in six bites and drained his bottle. She handed over more without a word. Two more bars and another bottle later he was done. She smiled at him. He liked it.
“What?”
“If I were going to pick an animal for you, I would have picked a grizzly.”
“What?”
“I liked what your coworkers said about you in their missing person statements—you were tough and moved obstacles out of your way instead of going around them, which is very grizzly-like. And you had the whole strong, silent, shaggy-hair thing going on in your pictures. It works for you.”
“Hey, I pay a lot for that shaggy-hair thing!”
“You’ve got it for free now,” Manon shot back with a grin. “Although your friends did give me a detailed list of the beauty products you’d need on hand after your rescue.”
He was going to kill them. Slowly. “Were they the ones who reported me missing?”
She nodded. “They’re very worried about you. But they were sure you were out here somewhere, alive, waiting to be found if you couldn’t get out yourself. They were absolutely positive a guy like you would find a way.”
“A guy like me?”
“A guy who does Ironman Triathlons and who would carry his bike for half a mile to the end of the route if the pedal snapped off. They said you were someone who wouldn’t give up. I liked that. So I didn’t give up on you.”
“You like my hair and my can-do attitude. What else did they say you liked?” he teased.
“That you always host play-off parties. I saved your life so I’ll be invited from now on, right? I hear you make a mean chili and cornbread.”
“Oh, yeah, you will. And that’s honeyed cornbread,” Bear corrected.
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“I drizzle some liquid honey on top as soon as it comes out of the oven. It melts and then runs down your fingers when you pick up the biscuits so you have to lick it off.” Bear paused as thoughts of honey and licking took him places his mind shouldn’t go.
It seemed that Manon’s mind came along for the ride. She couldn’t finish her water bottle soon enough, but it didn’t hide the flush on her cheeks.
He hadn’t meant to embarrass her. “You should save the propane. It’s warm enough in here, and we might need it later,” he offered as a change of subject.
She nodded and turned off the heater. Then she carefully arranged herself on the other end of the sleeping bag with her back to the door.
Bear didn’t want to hear the questions Manon had in her eyes so he opened his mouth to fake a yawn. Honesty took over and his jaw cracked wide. Manon followed suit, blushing behind the hand she held in front of her lips.
She checked her watch. “It’s quarter to seven.”
“The change can take a lot out of me.”
“What’s my excuse?”
“Spending the day outside in below freezing temperatures, fending off a coyote attack, hauling a hundred and eighty pounds of deadweight through the forest. You’ve had a busy afternoon.”
Manon glanced at the sleeping bags and looked away quickly. Bear fought the urge to look at them, too, but he suspected he was thinking of them with a different purpose in mind. Still, he’d rather they be safe and tense inside than at the mercy of everything outside.
“I know it’s early, but we should probably get everything buttoned down before we lose the daylight completely,” he said. “With the storm we won’t get any starlight either.”
She nodded and ducked out of the tent to take care of business. He didn’t bother to stifle his sigh of relief. The gust of frigid air from the open flap surrounded him with a cloud of Manon’s appealing scent. It was taking everything he had to keep himself in the tent instead of pinning her to the nearest tree and seeing if she smelled that good all over. The scent of her sweat nearly brought him to his knees. Imagining the scent of her sex set his hard-on raging. The bear fought just as hard. It wanted to do more than smell her; it wanted to taste her too. All over. He wanted to hold her against his chest, listen to her breath quicken and feel her heart pound as he stripped her down and let his wild side loose just enough to let her know she couldn’t get away from him if she tried. The bear liked that idea. His savior returned, shivering and red-eared from the cold. Bear bolted outside, not yet under enough control to risk the proximity.
He took care of what he needed to, but he wasn’t ready to go back inside. He moved farther from the tent and found a snow-laden spruce. Bear unbuttoned the coveralls and tied the arms loosely around his waist. He scooped up handfuls of snow from the branches and scrubbed his chest, arms and groin, eliminating any traces of grime and coyote blood he’d picked up that afternoon. He didn’t want Manon to
be reminded of the beast she met first. He did the same to his hair, trying to rinse a month of forest dwelling out of it. He didn’t mind the secondary effect of icing down his body either. His fever momentarily subsided, clearing his head and letting him rein in his baser instincts.
Manon was popping a mouthwash melt strip into her mouth when he came back. After he zipped the flap, she offered him the container. He took two and sucked in a harsh breath as the powerful antiseptic coated his tongue.
“You wouldn’t have a brush or anything, would you?” He ran his hand over his dripping hair.
Manon dove for her purse. She pulled out a wide-mouth comb.
Bear jammed it into his scalp and almost groaned at how good it felt. It was a very human thing, and he’d missed it. But the teeth didn’t move through the tangles. He gave it a jerk but it was no good. “Crap.”
“Do you want me to try?” Manon held her hand out for the comb. He hesitated before he handed it back to her. She studied him for a moment before she said, “Turn around.”
She scooted up to his back, her thighs on either side of his hips. Despite the heat he was throwing off, he could feel her warmth radiating along his spine. She slipped a finger under the fringe of hair at the back of his neck and held it in a scissor lock with her other fingers.
Bear couldn’t speak. It took everything he had to keep from moaning aloud at her touch. His lips were pressed together so tightly it hurt, but not because she was causing pain when she tugged on the snags. Her touch ran through him like an electric current and he wanted to know what it would feel like to feel her, skin to skin, along the length of him. Spending the night next to her would be an exercise in restraint. As a man, it would be near impossible to resist the woman behind him. He didn’t know if his new wild side would be able to.
Beneath a Spring Moon (Those Sexy Shifters, Book 1) Page 11
