Intimate Surrender

by RaeAnne Thayne

  She could have retrieved it by herself but Peter insisted on coming along. Probably afraid to let her out of his sight, she thought grumpily, just in case she had nefarious plans to slip more Logan Corporation secrets to someone in her vast and intricate spy network.

  But if he thought she was some kind of evil corporate spy, why did he kiss her?

  She was no closer to figuring that out than she'd been at 4:00 a.m. Her sigh fogged the air, even through her thick muffler.

  "Everything okay?" he asked.

  Peachy. Just peachy. I'm pregnant and exhausted and queasy and can't say a word about any of it. "There's the water tank." She changed the subject. "And look, no ice. At least something's working."

  They both dismounted and hitched their horses to the fence keeping the cattle away from a small storage shed near the watering station.

  "Since this one has plenty of water, why can't the cattle just drink from here?" Peter asked as they walked to the tank.

  "All the cattle have been sticking close to the barn since that's where they catch the gravy train. If we make them trudge all the way out here to drink, I'm afraid they'll burn up so many calories we'll have to put out even more feed to keep them warm enough. The colder the temperature, the more food the cattle need. Add this kind of extra exercise even for a few days and either they'll start losing bulk or the ranch will have to dig into its overhead to cover the cost of feed."

  His mouth twisted into a half smile as he studied her. "I never would have taken Katherine Crosby for a cowgirl."

  "I'm just full of surprises, aren't I?"

  "I'm beginning to think so."

  What did he mean by that? she wondered. She could feel a blush heat her skin and cleared her throat, unnerved by a strange light in his eyes. "We'd better figure this out so we can get out of the cold."

  Like the one closer to the barn, the warming unit was solar powered and it took her a few moments to figure out how to take it apart. Give her a computer CPU and she could have it apart and back together in the blink of an eye, but cattle trough warming units weren't exactly in her line of expertise. Finally she managed to disconnect it from the solar cells.

  Peter reached to take the floating unit from her. He carried it back to the trio of horses and helped her tie it down on the back of the pack horse.

  "Is that it?" Peter asked. "Are we done here?"

  "I think so—" she started to say, but her words were cut off by a whoosh as a deep shelf of snow slid off the steep roof of the storage shed—and directly onto Peter, standing below. Only his head was left sticking out of the pile of snow.

  "Are you all right?" she gasped, rushing forward to help him.

  "Dandy," he muttered. She could tell by his tone that he wasn't hurt, only disgruntled at being buried. In her relief, she finally took time to really look at him. The sight made her stop in her tracks and cover her mouth with a gloved hand, but she was too late to stop a giggle.

  Oh, how she wished that dratted Portland Weekly photographer were here now! She would love a picture of the oh-so-correct Peter Logan standing in the middle of a cattle pasture like the abominable snowman, with snow covering him from head to toe.

  "It's not funny," he growled. He shook his head vigorously, flinging snow in every direction.

  "Oh, it is. I'm sorry, but if you could see yourself right now, you'd be laughing, too."

  He glared at her. "I'm blaming you for this, Ms. Crosby. I should be safe and warm and hard at work in Portland right now. I left a million things undone, every single one of them far more important than rolling around in snow and cow manure, fixing your stupid trough warmer."

  "I'm sorry," she said again, then laughed even harder at his offended dignity. Soon she was whooping uncontrollably. Every time she thought she had it contained he would dig himself out a little farther, pausing just long enough to send another glare her way, and she would start again.

  He must think she was insane, she thought. If someone had laughed at her in the same situation, she likely would have been livid.

  Though one corner of her mind knew she ought to be helping him, she couldn't seem to do anything but stand in the snow and laugh like some half-crazy hyena.

  Maybe it was her lack of sleep or maybe the stress she'd been living with. But it felt wonderful to let go and laugh. She didn't want to stop.

  * * *

  If he could have kept his eyes off Katie, Peter might have been able to dig himself out and clear the snow off various parts of his person much faster. But even as the cold snow started to permeate his heavy clothing, he couldn't manage to look away.

  She was so beautiful she took his breath away. She glowed out here. With her cheeks rosy and her nose pink from the cold, she shined brighter than the brilliant Wyoming sunshine glittering off the snow. He had never seen this side of her. She didn't look sophisticated or glamorous or even cool and remote as she'd been since he came to the ranch.

  Out here, Katie looked young and lighthearted, and he was helpless to resist that infectious laugh.

  "I guess I should probably help you," she gasped out between peals of laughter.

  "Oh, don't mind me. I have no problem staying here until the snow melts."

  That set her off again but she hurried over, still laughing, and began to scoop away the snow mound surrounding him.

  "Here," she said after several moments of digging. "Let's see if I can tug you out of the rest of it now."

  She gripped his hands and pulled with all her might. He felt his snowy cage give way and with the added force, he was able to pull his boots free and climb out.

  All would have been well, but when Katie let go of his hands, the momentum of her tug carried her backward and with an "oomph" she landed on her rear end in the snow.

  Under other circumstances, he would have hurried to help her up. But since she had found such unbridled amusement a few moments earlier at his expense, he found he couldn't resist taking whatever advantage he could find. He scooped up a huge armload of snow and with complete, ungentlemanly satisfaction, dumped it on her head.

  She shrieked and sputtered, then stared at him with snow dripping off her hat and down her coat.

  "I can't believe you just did that."

  Neither could he, truth be told. Leslie would have been appalled at him for picking on a girl. But he had to admit, revenge—no matter how petty—had felt pretty damn good.

  He shrugged. "You're right. Wearing all that snow does look funny from this angle."

  With the sleeve of her coat, she wiped the snow off her face and her hat then narrowed her gaze at him. Her red nose spoiled the menace in her glare, as did the delight gleaming in her eyes.

  "You know this means war, don't you, Logan?"

  In one smooth motion, she scooped up a snowball then fired it straight at his chin with perfect aim. It splatted on his already freezing skin in an icy mess. Before he could even think about retaliating, she rushed around the other side of the shed.

  "Oh, that's it," he said with menace in his voice. "You don't know who you're messing with."

  She giggled again and peeked her head around the corner of the shed just long enough to throw a snowball that didn't even come close to hitting the mark.

  "Ha. Missed me." He sounded like a third-grader on the playground but suddenly he didn't care. All his fury and stress of the last few days seemed to melt away in the pale sunshine.

  Her next snowball hit him square on the chest, but he was ready for her. Before she could retreat to safety, he lobbed one back at her. It struck her collarbone with a satisfying plop and she shrieked and ducked her head.

  For the next ten minutes they played like children in the snow, with the dogs barking around them and joining in the fun. He forgot about being CEO of a Fortune 500 company, forgot about the dignity and decorum he usually tried to achieve. All he could focus on was retaliation.

  Had he ever engaged in a good old-fashioned snowball fight as a kid? He couldn't remember. He knew Terren
ce and Leslie had taken them all skiing several times to Mount Hood and they'd even spent a few vacations on the slopes of Utah, but he only remembered concentrating fiercely on trying to ski well enough to keep up with his father, not playing in the snow.

  He couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed himself so much. Now it was even more fun because Katie wasn't afraid to talk smack, with a creativity that amazed him.

  She insulted his aim. She laughed at his asymmetrical snowballs that usually fell apart before they could land anywhere. She ridiculed his sneak-attack strategy of skulking past the horses to try to surprise her around the other side of the shed—only to find her poised and waiting for him with a rapid volley.

  She also had a wicked curve ball. His shots missed more often than not, but hers nearly always found their mark.

  Finally he was laughing too hard to throw anymore. He pulled his hat off, stuck it on a stick and thrust it around the side of the shed. "Truce," he called out.

  After a moment she peeked her head around, her gaze narrowed. "How do I know this isn't just a sneaky Logan trick, so I let down my guard just enough that you can hit me with a firestorm?"

  He grinned at her. "I guess you'll just have to trust me."

  She appeared to think it over, then she walked around the shed toward him. "Okay."

  Now it was his turn to study her with suspicion. "Just like that? It can't be that easy."

  She shrugged when she reached him. "My nose is frozen and whipping your wussy butt makes me hungry. I'm ready for lunch."

  She looked so adorably cheeky that he laughed and tugged her hat down over her eyes. Then, before he could check the motion, he dipped his head and kissed her.

  Despite the cold temperatures, her mouth was warm—incredibly, seductively warm—and more inviting than a blazing fire. As soon as he kissed her, he forgot the snow and the cold and the horses stamping and snorting to return to the barn. All he could think about was her.

  "You taste so good," he murmured against her mouth. "I don't want to stop."

  "We'll freeze to death."

  "I'm not sure I'd mind."

  At his low words, she seemed to relax even more. Entwining her arms around his neck, she kissed him back with an eagerness that made him instantly hard and aching.

  He wanted to drag her back to the house and make love to her until neither of them could move. He wanted to touch her and taste her and come inside her while she cried out his name, just as she had done the night of the gala.

  And he could do none of them.

  He would do none of them.

  Though it was just about the toughest thing he'd ever done, he wrenched his mouth away and rested his forehead against hers. All the reasons why he couldn't touch her rattled through his mind.

  Didn't he ever learn? He had spent most of the night castigating himself for his weakness in kissing her the night before.

  Frustrated desire sharpened his tone. "Why couldn't your name be Smith or Jones or Fletcher? Why did you have to be a damn Crosby?"

  He hadn't meant to speak the words but they escaped to hover in the cold air like black, greasy crows.

  With a harsh intake of breath, she jerked away from him, her eyes bruised and hurt. "I can't change who I am, Peter. And even if I could, I wouldn't. I love my family, warts and all."

  His own hurt at being used by her prodded him on, urged him to slash and cut and make her bleed as he finally acknowledged he had bled when he learned of her betrayal.

  "And you'll do anything for them, won't you? Even screw a Logan, just to help out the family business."

  She paled as if he had slapped her. All the warmth and happiness that had lit up her face during their play in the snow leached away, leaving her icy cold, her eyes huge in her ashen face.

  Without another word, she turned her back on him and yanked her horse's reins free of the fence, then mounted before he could even make his boots work to follow her.

  I'm sorry. The words rang in his ears, over and over and over, but he refused to let them spill out.

  "I'm sure you can find your way back. Just follow the fence line," she said, her voice cool and without inflection.

  Susan took off with a canter. It wasn't until Katie and the horse were several hundred yards away that he realized she had left him to lead the pack horse with the tank warmer.

  * * *

  Even with pushing Susan much harder than was safe in the heavy snow, Katie didn't quite make it to the thick copse of trees before she finally gave in to the tears burning behind her eyelids.

  They slid free, only to freeze instantly on her cheeks. How was it that she hadn't noticed the cold at all while she and Peter had been engaged in their fierce snowball battle but now she could think of nothing but how frozen she was, how her bones felt as brittle as new icicles?

  Damn Peter Logan. Damn him.

  How could he make her feel so warm and cherished one moment, then like a two-bit whore the next?

  What did he want from her? He wanted to punish her for deceiving him. That much had been clear since he showed up at Sweetwater, all fire and fury. Were these sweet, sensual, torturous kisses just another form of punishment? Part of some exquisite revenge on his part?

  He wanted to make her burn for him just as she had that night, make her think maybe they could somehow find some peace between them, and then slap her back down, again and again.

  She couldn't bear it.

  She was such a fool. His contempt shouldn't have the power to wound her so viciously. She knew it shouldn't and yet she couldn't deny the ache in her heart.

  She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. She was coming to care for him entirely too much.

  How could she have let things get to this point?

  She had been halfway in love with him after that night and now she was afraid she had come too far to turn back.

  No. She couldn't be in love with him. Just the thought horrified her. She would just use all her considerable powers of reason and intellect to convince herself otherwise. It was as simple as that.

  He would go back to Portland, probably as early as the next day, and she would stay here at Sweetwater until she worked this ridiculous infatuation out of her system.

  In her rush to put as much distance as possible between her and Peter, she was pushing Susan far too hard for conditions. She realized it suddenly and started to rein her in. But before the horse could slow her momentum, she stumbled over some thick brush hidden beneath the snow.

  If she had been concentrating as she should have been, Katie might have been able to stay in the saddle. It was only a little stumble, after all. But she was distracted by her emotions.

  Add to that her thick gloves that didn't grip the reins as well as usual and the bulky snow boots she wore in place of ropers and that little stumble was all it took for her to go flying off.

  She came down hard on one leg, then lost her balance and collapsed face-first into the snow, and the breath left her in a whoosh.

  Eight

  For several long seconds Katie tried frantically to suck oxygen into lungs that suddenly refused to function after the force of her fall. She lay in the snow, her chest pounding and her head spinning.

  Oh, she hurt. She started to take an inventory of what pained her the most but gave up the overwhelming task. Despite the snow that cushioned her fall, every inch of her body complained loudly.

  She wanted to curl up right here and just close her eyes for a moment, just long enough for the pain to subside and for her breathing to return to normal, but she knew she couldn't.

  She had to force herself to move, not only because she didn't particularly care to freeze to death out here in the middle of nowhere, but also because she wasn't about to let Peter find her like this, bruised and shaken on the ground.

  Susan nudged at her, her breath warm and her big brown eyes concerned. "I'm not mad," Katie murmured soothingly to the horse as soon as she could make her lungs work again. "It wasn't your fault. I know it wa
sn't. I never should have rushed you like that."

  The horse whinnied softly as if to urge her to her feet. "I need to get up. I know. Give me a minute."

  Susan stood placidly next to her, and after a moment Katie summoned the will to grab hold of a stirrup and try to pull herself up. She made it as far as her knees before blinding pain shot from her right ankle, the one she'd landed on.

  She cried out and collapsed onto the snow again.

  All she needed was a broken ankle. No, she thought when she realized she could still rotate it, it probably was just a sprain. It only seemed to hurt when she put weight on it.

  But how was she going to mount without putting weight on her ankle? She would just have to push through the pain, she thought. The alternative was waiting here for Peter to find her.

  She forced herself to her knees again. This time she didn't even make it to her feet before a vicious cramp hit her low in the abdomen. Katie gasped as hot waves radiated through her.

  The baby!

  In the initial shock from her fall and pain from the sprained ankle, she had completely forgotten about the tiny life inside her.

  Another cramp hit her, stronger than the first, and she clutched at her abdomen and doubled over.

  Oh, please, God, no! Panic flashed through her. She couldn't lose this baby. She couldn't.

  She needed help. She needed to get out of this cold and find help right now!

  Her breath came in little sobbing gasps as she cried and prayed at the same time, all the while she struggled to make it into the saddle. By sheer stubbornness, she managed to climb to her feet and stood on one foot, clinging to the pommel. Another cramp racked her.

  Above her moan she heard dogs barking from behind her.

  She turned and saw Luke and Millie approaching, with Peter behind them leading the pack horse.

  "Oh, Peter. Help me!"

  His eyes widened with shock as he took in her dishevelment and the panic she knew must be abundantly clear on her features.