“Last night won’t amount to anything,” he interrupted.
“You don’t know that.”
“Let’s wait until we’re sure we have something to worry about before we start making difficult decisions. Right now, we need to concentrate on getting off this damn mountain.”
“Help will arrive soon.” She shoved her blond, shoulder-length hair out of her face and, for a moment, he was transfixed by her blue eyes. Even in this cave, he could make out their startling color. “With the storm over, Yosemite park rangers or...or CAP rescuers will be able to track the plane’s emergency locator transmitter beacon,” she said.
He wished he could be as confident. “If the signal went off.”
“It went off. The ELT is activated automatically on impact.”
“Not if it was cushioned by too much snow. And even if it went off, we’re in some pretty rugged mountains, Adelaide.”
Her full lips, which she’d used so artfully last night, twisted in distaste. “Don’t call me that.”
Offended by her tone, as well as her refusal to let him address her by her first name, he studied her—and tried to tell himself he didn’t like what he saw. That what had taken place last night hadn’t changed the way he felt.
“You can try to distance yourself all you want, but it won’t change what happened. Anyway, as I was saying, the signal could easily bounce from ridge to ridge, making it difficult to track. Or maybe the fire burned so hot it destroyed the box containing the equipment. Even if that’s not the case, the ELT is so far down the mountain, who knows what they’ll think when they find it.”
She curled up. “Surely they’ll search above it.”
“Maybe they will, if they have time before the next big storm. Regardless, we can’t sit back and wait. We have to search for supplies, light some flares, make a fire, do anything and everything possible to survive another night, if it comes to that.”
She didn’t react to his mention of another night. “Is there any chance Mr. Cox is still alive?”
“None.” He scowled to tell her he didn’t want to be reminded of the pilot, but she didn’t give up.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. But you can see for yourself. We have to hike down there. If anything’s left of the plane, we might find some food. Eating and drinking will help us keep our body temperatures in the safe zone.”
“Fine.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Where are my clothes?”
“They’re wet. That’s why I took them off.”
Their eyes met, making him wonder if she was reliving the same memories he was.
“If you want me to thank you for that, I don’t think I can,” she said.
“I’m not asking for your thanks. Just answer one question.”
“What’s that?”
“Are men so interchangeable?”
A muscle flexed in her jaw. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“It seemed easy for you to accept a replacement.”
“Well, it wasn’t. It required a great deal of effort to block out your true identity. But I managed. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it,” she said, but she pulled her gaze away as if she feared he might read a different response in her eyes. Then she dragged her coat around her shoulders and crawled out—and he tried not to look at the bare bottom she accidentally flashed him as she wriggled through the opening.
Six
Adelaide’s hands and feet were freezing, despite the sun. And her coat wasn’t meant to be worn without a layer of clothing beneath. After three hours of struggling to get down the sheer cliff to where they thought they saw the shadow of the fuselage, she wished she’d braved putting on her wet bra and underwear. The rough wool fabric chafed, and since Maxim was leading the way, his hand often went up her coat to help her down. The descent was steep enough that she didn’t complain about him touching her bare thighs—she wanted to feel secure during the climb—but she knew what he had to be seeing whenever he glanced up.
“This is humiliating,” she grumbled.
“At least we’re alive,” he said.
“That’s easy for you to say. I’m not staring at your ass every time I look up.”
He laughed so freely it made him seem younger—and even handsomer, which was really something, since he was already one of the best-looking men she’d ever met. The media agreed; reporters often compared his charisma and appearance to John F. Kennedy, Jr.’s. Tall, dark and handsome, Maxim also came from money and was considered a real “catch.”
“You don’t have anything to say to that?” she asked when it became apparent he wasn’t planning to continue the conversation.
He studied their options for farther descent. “I’m not stupid.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means nothing I say is going to help. I can’t say I don’t mind seeing your bare ass or you’ll think I’m getting some sort of sexual gratification out of it. And I can’t say I do mind without making you even more self-conscious.”
“It leaves me with no dignity.”
He maneuvered onto a rock outcropping a few feet lower in elevation and turned back for her. “You had too much of that to begin with.” His hand went up her coat again, and he gripped her thigh while she secured her footing.
“How can anyone have too much dignity?” she asked once she’d reached the ledge he was on. It was so cold that their breath appeared in small, foggy puffs.
“You manage it quite well.”
She tilted up her chin. “You think I’m too stiff?”
“Not stiff, exactly. Unapproachable.”
“Some people would say that about you.”
“Those people don’t know me.”
“I could say the same.”
“That’s because no one knows you.”
“I have friends,” she argued.
He peered below. “Friends or acquaintances?”
“Friends! Franklin Salazar is my friend. I just received his endorsement, didn’t I?”
“Franklin isn’t your friend. I wouldn’t even call him an acquaintance. He just liked your, ah, assets. Tough for a guy to compete with that.”
“You’re saying I got his endorsement because of my figure?”
He climbed down farther. “I’d be more specific, but you might slap me.”
“He endorsed me because he knows I’ll fix the damage you’ve caused since taking over,” she snapped.
“You’re kidding, right? It’s taken me this long to clean up the mess your husband made.”
She’d been waiting for his help, but now she didn’t move. “Don’t you dare talk about Mark! He’s not here to defend himself.”
He sighed. “Fine. Mark was perfect. It’s just the rest of us bastards who have flaws.” He blew on his hands. “Are you coming or not?”
“No.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I need my bra.” He had all their clothes rolled up and fastened with his tie, which he’d hung around his neck and tossed over his shoulder so he could carry them as a bundle. She wasn’t sure why he’d bothered bringing them along. She expected to be rescued before they had the chance to dry out. “Give me my panties, too,” she added as an afterthought.
Lines of impatience appeared on his forehead. “Will you quit worrying about things that aren’t important? I’m not so impressed with what you’ve got that I can’t forget about it, okay? Your clothes are soaked.”
The “I’m not so impressed with what you’ve got” stung more than it should have. “You didn’t have any complaints last night.”
“It was dark last night. It didn’t matter whether it was you or anyone else in that cave.”
Surprised by the harshness of his response, A
delaide blinked at him.
He seemed to soften but didn’t apologize. Dropping to his knees, he found her bra and her lacy red Santa panties, her one concession to Christmas, and handed them to her.
She put them on while he retied the rest of their clothes. Her things were as wet as he’d said but she was already so cold and numb that she could barely tell the difference.
“Let’s go.” He stretched out an arm toward her, but she refused to lean on him any longer. He didn’t owe her anything. Just because they were stranded together didn’t mean they had to be friends.
Waving him away, she said, “Go ahead and see if you can find the plane. Or, better yet, find some help. I’ll get there when I can.”
He shook his head. “We should stay together.”
“The blizzard’s over. We’ll be fine. Just tell them where they can find me if you reach them first.”
“Adelaide—”
“Don’t call me that,” she said again. Every time he did she heard his voice from last night: You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Even though she’d known it wasn’t really Mark who’d whispered to her in the night, the use of her name had made those words personal. She’d believed they were spoken in sincerity. But that couldn’t be true. Maxim didn’t appreciate anything about her. The whole experience, every bit of it, had been staged for the benefit of survival.
“Well, regardless of what you prefer I call you, I’m not leaving you behind,” he said. “So you have two choices. You can let me help you so we can travel faster—which is critical since the weather can change within minutes. Or you can climb down on your own and I’ll wait a few yards ahead before continuing.”
“Maybe I’ll be the one waiting for you.” Without giving him a chance to stop her, she started down from her side of the ledge.
It didn’t turn out to be a good decision. All that white snow was blinding, and the canyon yawning so far beneath made her dizzy. But she felt for the safest toeholds she could find and kept moving. She didn’t need Maxim Donahue; she didn’t need anyone. Ever since her husband and parents had died, she’d learned how to soldier on alone.
“Adelaide, stop!” Maxim warned.
She ignored him, ignored everything except the tricky climb.
Staying where he was, he leaned over the ledge. “Look, if you want an apology, I’ll apologize.”
She wished he’d go down his own way and leave her the hell alone.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he called. “Will you hold still until I can reach you? You’re scaring the shit out of me!”
That wasn’t true, either. He only cared about himself. She would’ve told him so, except she was breathing too hard to speak. Clinging to the icy mountain took a lot of effort, more than she’d expected.
Spotting what appeared to be a fairly secure route, a path of bare rocks jutting out of the ice and snow, she paused for a moment to catch her breath. If she could get to the next plateau, she’d have a chance to rest and recover. Maybe she would prove that she was capable enough and Maxim would go on without her. Then she could sit and wait, or climb down at a more comfortable speed. Right now she felt the pressure to move quickly and efficiently, to show him she didn’t need his help. But her fingers and toes were numb, and the wind kept whipping her hair into her eyes.
“Not that one! There’s nowhere to go from there,” he shouted.
She recoiled and glanced up to see him staring down at her with an intensity that told her he didn’t think she’d make it.
“You’re right...you—you might want to go the other way.” She laughed as she clung to the mountain.
The wind howled through the canyon below. “You can do it,” he said. “Just be careful. Those boots are too big for you.”
She should’ve given them back. He was going to need them.
A dusting of snow fell on her as he moved. “One handhold at a time, okay?”
“I’ve got it,” she breathed but she doubted he could hear. She was talking to herself. She had to make a small leap and hope she could reach the ledge. It was the only way to progress; she couldn’t stay where she was. Her strength was running out.
Concentrate. Almost there... With a deep breath, she jumped.
She might’ve made it. Her fingers touched the edge of the rock, but before she could grab hold and pull herself up, a gust of wind made her coat balloon like an umbrella, throwing her off balance just enough that she grasped nothing but air.
* * *
Maxim had never felt more helpless in his life. As Adelaide fell, she didn’t scream. She didn’t thrash around. She just slipped down the mountain and out of sight.
God, she even died with dignity.
He clenched his fists, hoping and waiting for some sign that he was wrong, that she was still alive. But he heard nothing except the words he’d spoken earlier, rattling clumsily in his head: I’m not so impressed with what you’ve got that I can’t forget about it... It could’ve been anyone in that cave.
Turning his face toward the rocks, he squeezed his eyes shut. He’d caused this. She’d given her heart and soul last night because she’d been pretending he was Mark, and he’d thrown them right back in her teeth. But only because he couldn’t justify what he’d felt as easily as she could. He’d had to acknowledge who it was moaning in his ear, and the eagerness of his reaction made him wonder if he’d ever hated her as much as he wished.
Forcing back the terror that made him colder inside than out, he scrambled down to the place where she’d fallen.
It was a difficult climb, but once he’d traveled ten feet or so, he could see beyond the bank of snow that had hidden her from view. She hadn’t fallen all the way to the bottom; she was lying on an outcropping of rocks.
But she wasn’t moving. She looked small and pale, as white as the surrounding snow, especially with her dark coat torn open to reveal the smooth skin he’d touched last night.
He spotted red almost immediately. Was that her underwear? Or was it blood?
The thought that it might be blood created a hard lump in Maxim’s stomach, a lump that got heavier the closer he came to her. She was scratched up; he could see that easily enough. But...he watched for movement, any hint of life—and saw her hand twitch.
She might be badly hurt, but she wasn’t dead. The minute he reached her, she opened her pretty blue eyes and said, “Did you come...for your boots?”
Seven
Adelaide felt like an idiot for causing Maxim and herself so much additional trouble. She’d let sensitivity and pride urge her to act rashly and now she had scraped knees and an abrasion on her stomach to show for her icy slide down the mountain. Worse than that, she’d hurt her leg and could only limp, which meant she had to rely on him even more.
He didn’t complain. He didn’t say much of anything. He was too determined to get them to where they were going. Every hundred yards or so, he’d leave her in a safe spot, scout out what he planned to do next, then come back for her. She argued with him several times, insisting he take his boots and go. He could move so much faster without her and send the rescuers back, she told him. But he refused.
She was glad he hadn’t relented when they finally found the plane. Although the fire and the crash had done significant damage, it wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed it would be. The tail had been sheared off, leaving a jagged hole that exposed part of the interior, the nose was smashed and the charred walls and upholstery smelled terrible.
But there was some good news. They could climb inside to avoid the worst of the wind. They had the comfort of knowing that if there was a working emergency beacon, they were now much closer to it. And they could take Mr. Cox home with them and make sure he received a proper burial.
Not that Adelaide wanted to spend much time in close proximity to his remains. Maxim must’ve
felt the same because he pulled the frozen corpse out and moved it some distance away.
The absence of that morbid reminder of what had almost happened to them—what could still happen—filled Adelaide with relief. Until she saw Maxim return wearing the pilot’s snow boots and carrying his parka.
“Take off that wet coat and put this one on instead,” he said, tossing it to her.
She slid over so it wouldn’t brush against her as it landed, drawing a frown from him.
“We have to be practical or we won’t make it.” The gruffness of his voice told her he wasn’t any happier about appropriating Cox’s clothes for his own use. She couldn’t fault him for doing it, but neither could she follow his suggestion. The idea of borrowing from the dead made her ill.
“He’d want you to have it,” Maxim said.
“Why would he?” she asked. “He didn’t even know me.”
“As a pilot, he was responsible for your safety. And it’s not as if he’ll miss it.”
She shook her head. She knew she was being impractical, but she couldn’t help it. Her hand recoiled every time she tried to reach out. “No.”
He studied her but didn’t insist. A moment later, he started rummaging around, gathering up items that might prove useful.
Because the plane had landed upside down, Adelaide sat on one of the overhead compartments and removed Maxim’s rubber boots so she could warm her toes. Her leg throbbed from her fall and her stomach growled with hunger, but if anything else hurt, she couldn’t feel it. She was too cold.
“We’re in luck,” he said. “There’s a lot of stuff here that didn’t burn.”
She thought they could use a little more luck, like a helicopter hovering overhead, but there was nothing to gain by being negative. So she kept her mouth shut.
Maxim made a few other comments as he searched the various compartments that would still open; Adelaide sat there quietly.
Finally, he stood as tall as he could in the cramped hull and waited until he had her full attention. “What’re you thinking about?”
I'll Be Home for Christmas Page 11
