by Cherry Adair
Joe smiled, touching a finger to her pale cheek. "Sweetheart, I live for danger. If I thought we had a snowball’s chance in hell of making it out of here, we’d be long gone. But it would be suicide trying to fly in this, the snow’s too heavy, the wind’s too high."
He’d been damn fortunate he’d been able to land in the high winds and blinding snow swirls earlier. The storm was considerably worse now. He’d known that there would be no way to get her out until the storm let up some. Known it, but sure as hell hadn’t liked it.
"There are snowmobiles in the garage."
He knew. "Like I said, if I thought we had a shot, believe me, we’d take it." They weren’t going anywhere just yet, but somehow, he’d get her out before Treadwell found his way to the Cameron’s ranch.
"As long as we’re gone before he shows up," Kendall muttered, reading his mind. Again. "If we can’t leave because of this snowstorm, he can’t get here. Right?"
For all he knew, the son of a bitch was already halfway to the ranch. Treadwell was highly motivated. Kendall had identified him unequivocally and put him in prison.
She was his only failure.
His unfinished business.
"One would hope." Joe twisted both locks on an upstairs bathroom window. Everything was firmly locked, but he checked and double checked anyway. The room was small, especially with both of them in it. He was becoming addicted to the fresh, crisp fragrance of pears. The kisses downstairs seemed to have happened years ago instead of less than ten minutes. He wanted more than to taste her mouth.
He wanted to feel her bare skin against his. He wanted to taste her all over. He wanted to feel the weight of her breasts, and taste her nipples against his tongue.
It's good to want things, he thought wryly.
Kendall straightened up a basket of luxurious toiletries on the counter. "I hope they got hold of the guests to tell them not to come." She refolded two perfectly folded towels, smoothed them flat, then hung them back over the rod.
"Don't worry about it. Denise will have done that when she saw the weather reports."
"Of course." She was so filled with nervous energy he wondered if he should suggest they go down to the gym in the basement. She could run a few hundred miles on the treadmill. That might tire her out- although Joe had some better ideas on how he could channel some of that frenetic energy.
Biting back a smile as she refolded a point in the edge of the toilet paper, he motioned her out of the small bathroom. She scanned the guest room before exiting, turning left down the wide hallway. A single strand of her long hair clung to his sweater as she passed, and stuck there, tying them together, as he followed her down the hallway lined with family pictures.
Next to the blissfully happy photograph of Denise and Adam’s no-expense-spared wedding, was one of himself and Denise at their hurry-the-justice-of-the-peace-is-waiting wedding.
The fact that they were all good friends hadn’t changed with either marriage.
Holding up the lamp, Kendall stepped closer to look at the photographs. Her hair caught the light and shone in shades of glossy ginger, gold, a deep amber. She had beautiful hair, very touchable. Joe stuffed his fingers in his front pockets.
Slowly walking down the corridor, she paused now and then, to take a closer look. “Denise is very attractive.”
Denise was a stunning, petite blond. “She’s lovely inside and out, and doesn’t give a damn that people stop in the street to stare at her,” Joe told her, wishing Kendall wasn’t so damned appealing herself. "Her looks meant nothing to her, and half the time she wears her hair in a haphazard ponytail, no makeup, and dresses in ratty jeans and T-shirt.”
Joe had dated women both beautiful and plain over the years. He’d been attracted to them for things other than their looks. Kendall was in a whole other league.
“We've been friends in first grade, and it seemed inevitable we get married. But as Denise said when we divorced, we didn’t have the fire necessary to take us from friends to an old married couple. I’m glad she found that person in Adam.”
This attraction for Kendall couldn’t come at a worse time and/or place. “She was a cosmetics model for a while and hated it. She’s taken to being a rancher’s wife very well, and she’s an amazing mother. She always wanted kids. Sam here, is her spitting image.”
He indicated the photograph of Samantha atop the sorrel quarter pony he'd given her. “Her fourth birthday present.”
“That looks more like a grimace than a smile. Poor baby was scared on that big horse.”
With a smile, Joe shook his head. “She was pissed because Adam wouldn’t let her gallop her new horse across the fields. Alone.”
Kendall gave him an amused glance. “You adore her.”
“Crazy about both kids. I’m their godfather, actually.”
“Do you see them often?”
“Whenever I’m in town.” Joe enjoyed the opportunity to watch Kendall unobserved as she examined the framed photographs. “Adam and I are partners in the ranch. Angus beef cattle. Good investment for when I can no longer haul ass in places where the bad guys outnumber the good guys. T-FLAC headquarters is only fifty miles away.”
Her hair slid over her arm as she tilted her head, looking at the top row of pictures. “She keeps a photograph of her first wedding up on the wall with those of her second wedding? That’s very progressive of her.”
“We make better friends than spouses. Adam has loved Denise since fourth grade. The Cameron’s are family.”
They got to the other end of the wall of family photographs in the upstairs hallway. “No other family?”
“Only child. My folks died six months apart, ten years ago. Mom of a massive heart attack, my dad in a boating accident.” Joe had never been sure that it was an accident, but the end result had been the same.
“That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Thanks. So was I. I don’t think they could’ve made it without each other. What about you? Family?”
She hesitated for a moment as they passed the closed doors of several guest suites. “My sperm donor went split before I was born. But I have a wonderful step-dad, a hugely talented artist mom, and a half-sister who’s a pediatric nurse. All live in Chicago. I live in Seattle, but we’re close and see each other as often as we can.”
“I saw pictures.” The capture and trial of Dwight Gus Treadwell had been national news for weeks. Images of Kendall and her family had been sent to Joe while the chopper was being prepped. Kendall alone on the witness stand, her scars still livid “They were all at the trial.”
“Every day.” Her fingers spread over the base of her throat “They knew what had happened of course. Julie took a leave of absence to take care of me for m-months afterwards.”
She visibly pulled herself together, eyes distant, and rubbed her upper arms in a self-soothing motion he’d noticed earlier. “They sat right up front every day, all day. Stoic and unflinching. Then waited to get back to the hotel before they raced to the bathroom to throw up. It sickened me knowing how much my ordeal impacted them.”
He wanted to hold her, but it wasn’t his place. It felt goddamned wrong not to be able to comfort her. Hard as hell to remember she was an assignment. Strange that she felt like- more.
"Realistically," she said, making Joe speed up so as not to lose the gossamer tether. "How long do you estimate it’ll take him to get here?"
"We started with six hundred miles between him and us," he told her. "Boise to Bozeman. In good weather. Ten hours if the roads were clear, maybe," he told her, stepping into an unoccupied bedroom. The king-sized bed, draped in red velvet, and accented with Christmas-themed pillows, looked decadently inviting.
The room smelled like ripe pears. Joe crossed to the bank of windows on the far wall. Really. He shouldn’t be anywhere near a bed with this woman around. Bed? Hell. Who needed a bed? Any fairly flat surface would work. Not the damn point.
"He escaped from the infirmary late last night, or in
the early hours this morning."
"He’s encountering the same storm we are.” Joe double checked the locks on both windows, and snugged the gap in the drapes. “The winds were estimated to hit seventy-five miles an hour in the last half hour. So he won’t be moving fast. Plus he has to find transportation."
He didn’t tell her that Treadwell had slashed the throats of two prison guards, killing both before he’d carjacked a guy on his way to work. Took his clothes as well. He, too, was dead.
Three people dead before Treadwell crossed into Mullan, Idaho at nine this morning. Another when he’d switched vehicles at noon. All with Treadwell’s signature. Albeit abbreviated MO with his fucking time restraints, he hadn’t had time to toy with his victims as he'd done before his incarceration, he'd simply slashed their throats and moved on.
None of the latest had been redheaded females like his other victims. Like Treadwell’s mother. He was no longer discriminating. He’d merely satisfied his blood-lust.
Kendall alone was his holy grail.
The weather would put a serious crimp in his travel plans, but Treadwell was determined enough, crazy enough, to persevere. The son of a bitch was proving he wouldn’t give up.
Joe had given serious consideration to taking one of the snowmobiles and hiding out in one of the outlying guest cabins. Too close to the house he’d decided. But he knew of several holiday cabins on neighboring ranches fairly nearby.
Of course, fairly in these parts was twenty plus miles. And while no one would find her there, traveling those distances in this weather would prove dangerous, even life-threatening.
He might be able to stand the elements, although realistically, Joe knew even he wouldn’t make it far or fast. One thing was for sure. Kendall would never make it down the damned driveway in this weather. It was brutal out there. Even experienced ranchers and locals didn’t brave the outdoors when it was this bad.
But the second the snow let up enough to take off, they’d be gone. If he could get the chopper up, he’d take her back to T-FLAC HQ. If he didn't think he'd make that fifty miles, he’d take her to the Dart's place twenty-five miles south of here. If the winds were still too high, he’d risk one of the snowmobiles. But get her away he would.
Because, despite the top-notch security in the house, his gut told him she wasn’t safe here.
"I’m still willing to risk it, if you are." Kendall offered once again as if she were reading his mind. It was a disconcerting skill.
"Too dangerous." Joe brushed aside a strand of hair caught in her lashes, then let his fingers linger on her smooth cheek for just a second. It was a mistake. Because he didn’t want to lightly touch this woman with victory scars on her body, and fear in her eyes.
He wanted to take her to bed and love her all night long. He wanted to wake up beside her in the morning and see her with sunlight on her face. He wanted to be the one to permanently eradicate the fear in her eyes.
To paraphrase old Will Shakespeare, Joe thought facetiously, he was melting in his own fire. Too bad. He’d have to burn alone. Because the last thing this woman needed right now was his horny self. "Take a shower, then dress in layers. Do you have outside shoes suitable for this kind of weather?"
She nodded. “I doubt the water will be hot with the generator out.”
“The tanks are well insulated. The water won’t be hot, but it should still be warm.”
#
Joe had accompanied her to the guest bedroom she'd commandeered while working night and day to "Christmas Supersize" the house for her client. The bed was made, but the room was cluttered. She'd brought a dozen boxes up to make more garlands, and there was faux greenery and red satin ribbons piled on top of boxes of lights and shiny ornaments.
The suite was beautifully decorated in shades of cream and a deep brick red and even had its own fragrant Christmas tree in the corner near the fireplace.
Not that Kendall cared about the décor or Christmas decorations at this point. The room had its own luxurious en-suite bathroom, it also had a connecting door into an adjoining room. Three exits should she need one. The ordeal with Treadwell had taught her that – just as he’d taught her the true meaning of terror.
"Sorry about the mess." She shifted a large box out the way. "I've been working up here so I didn't have to haul everything for upstairs up the stairs. Almost done. The plan was to move to one of the guest cottages tomorrow to oversee the last minute party prep over the weekend once the caterers got here. Now that won't be necessary. I'll undecorate while I wait for the roads to be cleared, then fly back to Seattle."
She folded a lime green sweater she’d finished knitting this week, then stuffed it into a drawer. Not being able to sleep had its perks. She was able to accomplish a lot. But one full night’s sleep would be amazing. Maybe one day.
"The room's lovely, but my insides are screaming go, go. go!" She put up her hand when Joe was about to speak. "I know we can't leave."
Damn it, she hated that her voice shook with the words. Get a damn grip. Don't let Treadwell win. He'd relish knowing she was terrified of him even when he was hundreds of miles away.
"I know, and appreciate that you’re here to keep me safe." Or as safe as you think you can. "I know the house is secure. My rational brain knows all that, Joe. My lizard brain is screaming that I'm in mortal danger. I've spent months waking in a cold, clammy sweat, imagining Treadwell has found and kidnapped me again. Now he has.
He's out there. practically ringing the doorbell." Now she realized her calm was no more than a Band Aid over a gaping wound.
"I still can't make myself drive to the grocery store. I was taken on a Saturday morning, in full daylight, with people walking to and from their cars a hundred feet away. No one heard or saw a thing. Now I buy everything I need online”
She rubbed her upper arms. “I'm sick of living like this, damn it."
Joe’s arrival, and the news he’d brought with him, stripped away the first feeling of peace she’d experienced in over a year.
She'd gone from enjoying the solitude, and the sheer joy of decorating such a large house for the holidays to a jolt back into the reality of her life with Treadwell still in it. Christmas used to be her favorite time of year, but the shine had gone off it after her encounter with him. He'd sucked the light out of every aspect of her life for so long it was as if she'd had this gloomy cloud hovering directly over her head forfreakingever.
It was a double whammy. News of Treadwell's escape, plus those-mind bending kisses from a man she'd only just met. Kendall's emotions were on overload. It didn’t help that she was running on just a handful of hours of sleep.
Using his knee, Joe shoved a stack of boxes containing garlands out of his path, then came to stand in front of her. He looked even larger and more imposing up close. He didn't touch her, but God she wanted him to, and her body listed slightly toward him like metal filings to a magnet.
Kendall liked sex, not liked, used to like. Now she couldn’t bear to be touched. Her shrink said that would pass. Having horny thoughts about Joe gave her hope. Not that she’d act on it, but it was nice to know it was possible.
"I hate that you're scared," he said quietly, "but in this instance, your fear will keep you sharp and focused. We're hardwired for self preservation, God only knows, you more so than most. It's natural that your fight or flight instincts are kicking in again. That's a good thing. Courage isn't lack of fear. It's facing that fear head on, as you've been doing for the last fifteen months. You've already faced your worst-case scenario. Other than being on a remote Fijian island- which sounds damn appealing right about now- this place is as good as it gets for security."
Joe brushed her cheek with his finger, the touch featherlight, and yet Kendall felt it in her hair follicles. "Hell," he said, unaware that he'd sent all the atoms in her body careening around with nowhere to go. "I'm as good as it gets for security."
She believed him. He was big, intense and over-qualified for the job, and had buil
t this magnificent house for his ex-wife to keep her safe while he was gone dealing with the worst people in the world.
"It's taken a year and a half to not freak out when someone touches me. And that's people I know touching me. That you were able to get close enough to kiss me-"
"Twice."
"Twice." She smiled while her heart did backflips. It would be foolish to allow herself to fall for him just because he was big and strong, had built a house no one could breach, and kissed her like he really, really enjoyed it.
She’d never needed a hero, even though Joe seemed to have been custom tailored for the job, as if sent by Central Casting. It was dangerous to depend on anyone else. She’d saved herself from Treadwell once, and it was worth remembering that she might have to do that again.
“Remarkable,” she said softly. “Even more so, I liked being kissed by you."
He had darker blue dots in his irises, and close up his eyes were paler than she’d first thought. A true blue with no gray or green. Last year, right after the trial, to get away from the press, she and her sister had gone to Lefkas, Greece, an island in the Ionian Sea. Kendall had never seen such a clear, pure blue as the water there until she looked at Joe’s eyes close up.
"Liked?" Joe frowned, his palms running up and down her upper arms in a soothing gesture that when he did it, didn’t feel soothing at all. "Hmm. That's a pretty tepid review. Maybe we should try that again. They say third time's the charm."
A third kiss like the ones they'd shared downstairs would probably melt her thong.
Cupping her cheek, Joe trailed his lips over first one eyelid, then the other, guiding her body flush with his with a light hand on the small of her back. Effervescent blood bubbled through her veins.
Was this feeling merely a natural attraction a woman felt for an attractive man? Or was she attracted to him because of what he represented?
Did it matter?
This was a moment out of time, not a lifetime commitment.
There wasn’t a spare ounce of fat on him, and his chest felt rock hard where the softness of her breasts pressed against him. He was aroused, the thick length of his erection tantalizingly pressed against the juncture of her thighs. As his mouth found hers, moisture pooled between her legs and her nipples pebbled.
