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.He’d never been fond of the instant stuff, but when the temperature dropped to well below freezing, instant coffee wasn’t so bad.Mud heated up in water wouldn’t have been bad.He pulled his blanket around his shoulders and hunched down, with his back against an upturned log.One of his last nights of solitude.He wasn’t sure how long he’d stay in Treasure Creek, once he got back to town.Maybe a few days.He had to go back to Seattle.The thought settled in the pit of his stomach and stayed there.For the first time in years, he wasn’t excited about his job.He had always loved the challenge, the arguments, learning how people ticked, and what would make them say what he needed them to say.Each time he closed his eyes he thought about an unknown girl, a family grieving.His grief.The zipper on the tent ripped the stillness of the night.He turned, watching the dark figure hurry across the open area to the fire.She had wrapped her sleeping bag around herself and pulled on the boots he’d made her wear.She hadn’t liked leaving the other boots behind.He smiled, but quickly pushed that reaction down.This wasn’t a friendship he wanted to pursue.Instead he stared up at her, wishing that look would send her running back to the tent.The one thing he’d learned about Ms.Lear was that she didn’t back down easily.Instead of cowering, she hunkered down next to him.“I’m sorry I fell apart earlier,” she whispered without looking up at him.“No big deal.” But it had been kind of a big deal, mainly because he still remembered holding her.“I think I might have had a touch of hypothermia.The symptoms include confusion.”He laughed, at first loud and then softer.He didn’t want to wake the Johnsons.If they could sleep, they should.Someone should get rest for the trip tomorrow.“You think that was from hypothermia?”She pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders and moved so that her arm didn’t touch his.“Of course.It isn’t as if I’m prone to falling apart, or even to throwing myself into a man’s arms.”“Of course you aren’t.”“Stop.”“What?” The tone of her voice had changed to anger, taking him by surprise.“Why are you mad?”“Because you insist on putting me in some little box that you’ve labeled ‘heiress.’ You think you know me, know how I should behave or what my life is like.”“I see.” He knew the rule to this game.The less said, the better.“You think I need a big, strong man to take care of me.”He listed off in his mind a few things, starting with driving a Jeep off the road, leaving the Jeep to wander in the woods, coming face-to-face with a bear.He kept the list to himself while she rambled on.“I’m sick of people like you.”“Okay.”“Stop.”“Penelope, I stopped talking a long time ago.”She peeked up, the sleeping bag tight around her neck so that just her face stuck out.Man, she had a kissable mouth.She had eyes that made him feel sucker-punched each time she looked at him all soft and vulnerable, or like a wildcat determined to fight her way out of a corner.He leaned, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t think something through before he acted.As she stared up, half wildcat and half lost kitten, he leaned and touched his lips to hers.Soft at first, and then a little more demanding.He wrapped one arm around her quilted shoulders and held her close as his lips moved over hers.When she whispered his name and kissed him back, he didn’t know if he’d ever breathe again.Or if he’d ever want to breathe without her.Her hair slipped through his fingers and he held her close, leaning in for one more taste of the sweetest lips he’d ever kissed.This was more tender than his first kiss with Cindy Douglas on the playground after school.It was sweeter than a college romance that he thought would last forever.And it’s smoke and mirrors, he told himself as he pulled away.She was just a mirage, something out of reach and unreal.He didn’t need that.He didn’t need this to cloud his thinking when so many things in his life were on the fence.What he didn’t need was a high-maintenance female in his life.She obviously felt the same way about him, because she broke away from his arms and stood up, wobbling a little, scaring him because he wanted her away from the fire if she was going to trip.He reached but she backed up.“Don’t.” She took a few more steps back.“This is just confusion from hypothermia.”He was tempted to laugh again, because she didn’t believe that any more than he did.“Sure, hypothermia.”“Exactly.In a few days we’ll be back to our real lives, being who we really are.And I don’t think either of us would like the other person if we met up with them on the street.”“In the real world?”“Exactly.”“I think I probably agree.”“Good night then.” She turned, tripping a little over that crazy sleeping bag and then practically running to the tent.That was the end of that.He almost relished the thought.But it wasn’t the end.He had a bad feeling it wasn’t even close.Maybe the bad feeling came from deep inside, where he didn’t want it to be the end.And as tired as he was—he must have been tired, or he wouldn’t have thought that way—he was in for a long night.No way could he go to sleep and leave them vulnerable to whoever was prowling in the woods.If there even was someone out there.Penelope ran from a kiss that probably changed not only how she felt about Tucker, but how she felt about herself.Her heart raced and her fingers trembled as she climbed back into the tent and zipped the flap.As if zipping the flap would close out the cold.They had built a small fire a short distance from the tent, and their sleeping bags were supposed to be for near-arctic temperatures, but none of that seemed to matter.After the warmth of Tucker’s kiss, she felt cold to the bone.She curled up in the sleeping bag and tried to count sheep, but sheep weren’t enough.Clark was snoring, and outside, animals were making noises that sounded like grunts and sometimes growls.Hours later, she thought something pawed around her corner of the tent.She huddled in a ball and prayed for it to go away.It continued to snort and dig.Clark snored louder, coughed a little and continued to snore.She could see the flicker of the fire and watched as Tucker’s silhouette moved, adding wood.He sat back down, wrapping himself in a sleeping bag.Tomorrow would be a rough day for all of them, but especially for Tucker.It was all on him—to take care of them, to get them back safely.Clark was a big help, but it was Tucker who took charge and kept them going forward.She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing to bring on drowsiness and maybe sleep.What a mistake.Closing her eyes intensified the noises inside and outside the tent.Closing her eyes meant remembering the softness in Tucker’s eyes when he leaned to kiss her.That meant remembering the way he’d slid his hands into her hair and pulled her close [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]