by Nancy Martin
Hank hated to think of a long, wet hike, too. “Maybe it will be safer if we stay here.”
Carly shifted her weight and winced. “I should have cleaned up the rocks better before we put the tent here.”
She had managed to choose a very uncomfortable spot for their shelter. Not only was the ground hard, cold and rocky, but Hank didn’t like the sight of the creek rising quickly toward them.
“Maybe we’d better move to higher ground,” he suggested.
Carly looked alarmed. “Are we going to be flooded?”
“No, no,” Hank lied. “But the noise of the creek might keep us awake.”
Carly frowned as if she didn’t believe him. She helped Hank pack up their few belongings and shift everything to a different location. The work was made more difficult by darkness and a biting wind.
The second spot Carly chose was almost as bad as the first, and the tent collapsed into a heap as they moved it. Hank doggedly reassembled the damned thing and held back colorful curses while he worked. When they reentered the tent, they were both shorttempered, cold and tired.
“We should have started back sooner,” Carly said, bumping into Hank in the dark.
He bumped her back. “We were otherwise occupied.”
“I’m not blaming you.” She sounded touchy.
“I didn’t think you were.”
“Your tone—”
“Don’t bite my head off.”
“Let’s get some sleep.” Carly handed Hank one of the blankets. “Or try to, at least.”
They wrapped up in separate blankets and lay down in the darkness just as the rain started again. Somehow, the sound of rain made their situation even more miserable.
Beneath them, the ground was unforgiving and damp. The tent was leaning dangerously in the wind and threatened to blow over any moment. The whole world was cold and noisy. Hank’s stomach growled.
But there was no food, no heat, nothing to talk about anymore. Nothing to do until morning—and that was hours away.
Beside him, Carly was silent and motionless, but it was easy to sense that she felt exactly the way he did. Never had either one of them been so miserable in all their lives.
But suddenly a thought made the miserableness even more complete.
There was something they could do to keep their minds off their troubles. Carly’s warm body was just a touch away. Her clothes could come off in a trice, Hank thought. He almost groaned at the thought of how she might feel, slipping into his arms again. His imagination conjured up images of how they could spend a breathless night together.
But they lacked one important thing.
If only, Hank thought, we had a condom.
Six
Carly had never spent a worse night in her life. Not only was she horribly uncomfortable, but her brain seemed permanently fogged with sexual fantasies concerning Hank Fowler.
And she woke up thinking she never wanted to see him again.
Oh, it wasn’t that she wasn’t attracted to the man. Or that she didn’t like him. Frankly, he was the sexiest and perhaps the sweetest man she’d ever met. And he’d managed to wrap himself around her during the night and even slipped his hand under her shirt so that he had warmly cupped Carly’s right breast in a deliciously unconscious way.
God help me, she thought, but I want to roll over, strip off his clothes and make love to him here and now.
But there was no way in hell they’d ever have a future together.
I hate the outdoors, she told herself. There’s no use denying it.
Even if he was God’s gift to women everywhere, the fact that he lived in the middle of a wasteland rendered Hank Fowler the last man she’d ever start a relationship with.
Not after yesterday and last night.
Just my luck. I find Mr. Right and it turns out he owns several hundred acres that would make a grizzly bear weep.
Nevertheless, Carly enjoyed the heat that radiated from his lean body. Her bottom was intimately snuggled against him, and one of his long legs rode comfortably between her knees. She could feel his breath—even and deep—whispering along her hairline. Remembering the heart-pounding way they’d explored each other’s bodies yesterday, Carly flushed warmly. When had she ever allowed a man to touch her the way Hank had?
We certainly got to know each other fast.
And yet Carly couldn’t help feeling Hank was holding something back.
She wanted to know him completely. But not at the risk of dying in the wilderness, she decided.
I’m taking the first plane back to Los Angeles. Somehow, I’ve got to forget this man.
Hank woke up then and groaned.
“You okay?” Carly asked, not moving from his embrace. He sounded as if he were in pain.
“Hell,” he muttered. “What train hit me?”
“What’s wrong?” Carly sat up quickly, jostling Hank in the process.
“Ow, don’t!” He cringed as if she’d run over him with a bulldozer. “Jeez, I’m dying.”
Hank opened his eyes and looked startled to find Carly staring at him. It took a moment for reality to settle in, then he said blankly, “Oh, it’s you.”
The lack of romance in his tone stung her pride. “Maybe you were expecting Pocahontas in this charming teepee?”
Hank sat up cautiously, holding his head as if to keep his wits from swirling around. “Man, that was a rough night, wasn’t it?”
“Are you in pain?”
“Agony,” he corrected. “I think every bone in my body is broken.”
“I think you slept on a rock.”
He rubbed his back. “That explains my ruptured kidney.”
“Can you stand up?”
“No,” he said. “I think I’ll just wait here for the rescue helicopter.”
“Hank—”
“I’m joking,” he soothed. Slowly he raised himself to a sitting position, but Hank didn’t look any healthier than he had a few moments ago. His face showed a liberal growth of beard, gray circles under his bleary blue eyes and distinct grooves that ran from his nose to the corners of his mouth.
Carly couldn’t hold back a grin. “Boy, you look a little worse for wear. What happened? Did a prairie dog beat you up during the night?”
“I’m not the only one looking less than perfect.”
Carly’s spine snapped straight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just—oh, nothing. Sorry.”
Steaming, Carly let herself out of the tent and into the feeble rays of early sunshine. Her sneakers squished in the soft ground as she walked away from the tent, smoothing her hair and pinching her cheeks to bring back their color.
“Hey, wait,” Hank called, gingerly pulling himself out of the tent. “Carly!”
“I’m going to wash my face,” she snapped. “Apparently, I need it.”
“I didn’t mean anything by—ow, dammit!”
Hank continued to curse as he tried climbing to his feet, joints and bones making little cracking noises, but Carly stalked away from him, thoroughly annoyed.
“Okay, so I don’t look like Cleopatra this morning,” she muttered, putting a hundred yards between them. “Did he have to point it out?”
Of course, nothing had stopped Carly from making the observation that Hank hadn’t exactly been his most attractive.
She knelt at the edge of the muddy, storm-swollen stream and swished her hands in the cold water. The shock of the cold made her fingers ache in seconds. Looking at her hands, Carly moaned. “Brother, do I need a manicure! Probably a facial, too.”
She rubbed her face and found it rough and sunburned. With a little water, she tried smoothing her hair into place. But it was probably a lost cause.
A noise made Carly look up from her ablutions, and she found herself staring into the slanted green eyes of Baby, the pup. Two yards away, the animal was crouched behind a rock and peeking at her.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” she cooed, holding out her fingers to the
pup. “Want to be friends again?”
The pup was shy this morning, but not as hostile as she had been the night before. With some coaxing, Carly managed to catch the wolf and hug it tightly against her chest. She returned to their pathetic campsite with the pup in her arms.
“Oh, no,” groaned Hank, looking up from the sodden remains of their fire. “You found it again.”
“Of course I did. She’s too young to be on her own out here. She needs us.”
Hank seemed on the brink of arguing, but they were interrupted at that moment by the sounds of approaching horses. Climbing onto the highest nearby rock, Hank waved and shouted, “Becky! Over here!”
Carly had never been so relieved in her life as she was when Becky Fowler and another cowboy rode into the campsite, leading Laverne and Buttercup behind their own horses.
“Hi, guys,” Becky called cheerfully. “That was some storm last night, wasn’t it?”
“You bet,” Hank replied, sounding not very friendly. “Were you safe and warm?”
“Of course, Hank. Chet built a fire in the fireplace, and we had grilled steaks with onions and some of that wine you brought from—”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves,” Hank said, cutting her off. “Hello, Chet.”
The cowboy named Chet had reined his magnificent Appaloosa horse and comfortably leaned one elbow on the horn of his saddle to look down at Hank. He was a tall, thin young man about Becky’s age, with a beaten-up cowboy hat and an old oilskin coat over his jeans and flannel shirt. His face was leathery tan beneath a pair of reflecting sunglasses that perched on his hawklike nose. Carly thought he looked vastly amused as he smiled down at Hank.
“Hey, there, Henry,” he drawled. “You get yourself into a little trouble?”
“Nothing we couldn’t survive,” Hank shot back, with a smile that looked as cold as Chet’s. “Nice of you to bring our horses back.”
“No trouble at all,” Chet replied. “Think you can ride this bronco home?”
Hank snatched Buttercup’s reins from Chet’s gloved hand and said nothing.
Becky dismounted and turned to Carly with concern on her face. “I hope you weren’t too uncomfortable last night. The storm was—What in the world is that?”
“A wolf.” Carly turned so that Becky could look into the pup’s face. “We found her mother over there—shot dead. This little girl wouldn’t have lived long if we hadn’t found her.”
“Uh—exactly what were you planning on doing with it?” Becky asked carefully. “It’s a wild animal, you know.”
“We can’t just leave it to die!”
But one glance around at the three faces that stared at her and Carly knew that Becky, Chet and Hank could easily leave the little pup to die. In fact, they clearly expected her to drop Baby that instant and ride home to the ranch without a backward glance.
Carly’s temper rose. “I’m not leaving her behind, you know. She needs food and protection.”
“But—” Becky started to protest.
“But—” Hank began.
“Aw,” said Chet, “I think you’re kinda cute together. Howdy, ma’am. I’m Chet Roswell. I own a few acres north of here.”
“I’m delighted to meet you, Chet.” Carly shifted Baby’s weight and stuck her hand up for Chet to shake. “Are you volunteering to help me?”
Becky and Hank swung on him, but Chet was laughing. “Sure thing, ma’am. Want me to carry the little feller?”
“I’d be very appreciative.”
“Now that we’ve got that settled,” Hank said testily, “why don’t we break camp and get home to a hot shower?”
“Too bad there’s not a Jacuzzi back at the ranch,” Chet said laconically. “Henry looks like he could use a hot soak.”
Becky shot Chet a quelling glance, but he laughed uproariously as if he’d cracked a hilarious joke.
It didn’t take long to clean up the tent and blankets, and Carly was glad to find herself en route to the ranch within a few moments. Relieved that Chet had volunteered to take Baby, she concentrated on making her stiff muscles hold her steady in Laverne’s saddle. The ride took less than an hour, but Carly’s aching body protested every step Laverne took.
The only bright spot in her morning was noticing that Hank looked every bit as uncomfortable as she did.
Back at the ranch, Carly thankfully turned Laverne over to one of the visiting ranch hands and was glad that Chet offered to make a pen for Baby. She put the pup out of her mind and limped over to the house. A shower. A bed. That’s all she wanted. She climbed the front steps with clenched teeth, trying not to cry out when her legs protested the stairs.
The bathtub was a delight. Carly soaked for twenty minutes after swallowing two aspirin. When she emerged from the bathroom, Becky called up the stairs to her.
“You had a phone call from your office last night, Carly. From a man who called himself Bert. He asked you to call back today.”
“Thanks,” Carly said faintly. “I’ll call him and go to bed for a while, if that’s okay?”
“Sure. Hank’s on the phone at the moment, but he won’t be more than a couple of minutes. I’ve got some errands to do, but I’ll be back in a few hours. Hank can get you anything you need.”
“Thanks.”
Carly found her lightweight bathrobe and put it on before descending the stairs in search of the phone. Hank was standing in the kitchen, and he hung up the receiver just as she walked in. Carly wondered if he’d cut his call short when he’d heard her approach.
“It’s all yours,” he said, attempting to sound cheerful. “And there are biscuits and bacon in the warmer, if you’re hungry. Want some coffee?”
“That would be wonderful.”
While Carly dialed the 800 number of the Twilight offices, Hank pulled a thick mug from a shelf and poured it full of steaming black coffee for her. Moving slowly—as if in pain—he prepared her breakfast. He got jam and butter from the refrigerator and left them on the table within Carly’s reach. As soon as her call connected, however, Hank left the kitchen so she could speak privately with Bert.
“Hi,” she said when her partner’s voice came on the line. “It’s me.”
“Sounding a little under the weather, too,” Bert observed. “You okay?”
“I’ll live.”
“What’s the matter? Did the cowboy prince turn out to be a frog?”
“No, that’s not it. Rough night, that’s all. I’m longing for the comforts of civilization.”
“Anything I can do?”
Carly sighed. “Nothing, I’m afraid.”
Bert’s voice softened. “Are you disappointed, love?”
It took a long moment for Carly to summon an honest answer. “Not disappointed, no. Tired at the moment. But...”
“Is he everything you expected?”
“Yes. And more, I guess. Oh, it’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” Bert echoed, laughing. “You’ve only been gone a couple of days! You’re talking like there’s a relationship going sour already.”
“There is no relationship,” Carly countered.
“But you’d like one?” Bert inquired archly.
“No. Maybe. Yes, if the geography wasn’t so bad.” She blew another sigh. “I don’t know what I’m saying, Bert. I’m tired and cranky, that’s all.”
“Well, business can wait in that case.”
“No, I’m ready to talk,” she said quickly. “What’s going on in the office?”
“I’ve sent a photographer to you. It’s Alexis from Marvel Photo—remember her? She’ll be arriving tomorrow. Will you have test shots for her by then?”
“I can take them, but I don’t think I can have anything developed. This place is in the middle of nowhere, Bert.”
“No matter. Alexis does good work—especially if her material is up to snuff.”
Carly thought about Hank’s stiff limp and exhausted face. “Well, I think it’ll be okay.”
“Don’t w
orry. We can always touch up in the darkroom.”
“Right. Anything else?”
“No—except to make sure you’re all right.”
“All I need is rest.”
“Go to bed, then. Call me later, if you want to talk.”
“Okay. Bert...”
He had been ready to hang up, but his voice came back on the line. “Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Being there, I guess.”
“Feeling vulnerable, are we?”
“A little.”
“Well, be careful. You always get reckless when you’re feeling that way.”
Carly mustered a laugh. “Don’t worry. See you in a few days.”
They hung up, and Carly was suddenly starved. She wolfed down some bacon, two biscuits with jam and drank a quick cup of very hot coffee. After a refill, she carried the mug back up the stairs.
On the landing she encountered Hank who had clearly stepped out from under the shower moments before. He had opened the bathroom door to let out the steam and was brushing his teeth in the doorway, wearing nothing but a blue towel around his hips. And he completely filled the doorway. His hair was wet, and water clung to his chest. His eyelashes and mustache were thickened with droplets, too. Even undressed, he looked every inch a sexy cowboy.
He stopped brushing his teeth and looked around at Carly with something odd flickering in his blue eyes. With a jolt Carly realized it was the same expression that had been captured in the original photograph she’d received—the photo Carly had kept at her bedside.
For a moment Carly was speechless. His gaze reflected warmth and humor and something more sensual. Something very male, magnetic and knowing.
Carly’s imagination took a dive back into yesterday’s wildly abandoned encounter under the warm sun. No doubt Hank was thinking exactly the same thing. She felt a blush start on her cheekbones and suddenly wished she’d put on some underwear beneath her bathrobe.
“Uh,” she said, when she could make her wits function. “Going to bed?”
Hank nodded, his mouth full of toothbrush. “You?”
“Yes, I’m—well, after last night—”
“Tired?”
