that I can't get down on . . . one knee just now."
Sandy's pain was exquisite, lancing straight
through her heart. It was getting harder to do, but somehow she
kept her voice light. "So, Mick, do you always just jump in with
both feet?"
"It's the only way, sugar." She could hear
his smile. "You're not really living if you're always looking at
life from the outside."
"Don't you ever think about how you could
get burned?"
He was silent for a moment, then soft
laughter filled her earpiece. "Every time I climb on the truck when
we're called out, sweet stuff."
Color flooded Sandy's face. "I'm sorry—I
didn't mean—that was incredibly insensitive of me."
His laughter grew a little louder. "Relax,
honey, I'm messing with you. I knew what you meant. Look at it this
way. If you don't take chances, you won't get any rewards." He
finished softly, "And right now, I'm thinking marrying you would be
one really great reward."
"You know, you're taking a heck of a chance
asking me to marry you when you don't even know what I look like. I
could be paper-bag homely."
"Then I'll have to lay up a good supply of
paper bags," he teased. Then his voice softened again. "'Love looks
not with the eyes but with the mind.'"
She laughed. "It's hard to fight with a man
when he's quoting Shakespeare."
"That would be the point of doing it." He
laughed softly. "It doesn't matter what you look like on the
outside, Angel. I think you're beautiful."
She had no idea how to respond.
"Angel?" His voice was just a bit louder
than a whisper. "I was serious about getting married. We don't have
to do it in Vegas. You can carry white daisies when you walk down
the aisle to me."
"I know you were serious," she said. "I was
mulling it over."
He chuckled. "And?"
"Yes, Mick. I'd love to marry you." She
closed her eyes against the pain of knowing that day would never
come.
****
Ryan shifted to get a better view of Sandy
while she slept. A week ago he hadn't even known her. Now he
couldn't imagine not being with her. In sleep, her vulnerability
touched him even more deeply than her sensual playfulness when she
was awake. He was at a loss to explain his reaction. He'd never
expected to feel so strongly again.
"Ryan," she murmured as she stirred against
him.
Sitting up, she threw back her head and
raised her arms, stretching like a cat in the sun. The movement
thrust womanly curves against the soft, thin fabric of her tank
top. Her body invited his touch. He sat still, drinking in the
sight as his hunger for her spiraled upward.
She caught his eye and smiled. "I know who
I'm with, Ryan. I've been alone in every sense of the word for a
while now. It's always going to hurt when I wonder about the
might-have-beens. But I'm here with you right now because I want to
be with Ryan McGee, not because I'm looking to replace someone I
can't have."
She bent to lay a tender kiss against his
throat, moving upward to find his mouth. Her lips tempted, his
cried out for more. Hers teased, his sought and found. His hand
rested against her chest. He could feel her heart beating
frantically beneath his fingertips.
The guttural, bawling scream was not of the
earth. Emanating from the thick woods, it echoed unnervingly across
the idyllic clearing.
Sandy leapt away from Ryan, her eyes wide
with alarm.
"What the devil is that?"
Ryan was already on his feet, grabbing the
Winchester from his saddle holster and sprinting toward the sound.
"Calf in trouble! Stay here!" he shouted over his shoulder, before
he pushed into the woods.
****
Paralyzed with fear for several heartbeats,
Sandy finally unstuck her feet and followed Ryan. The brush was
thick. It clawed at her, leaving deep bloody lacerations along her
arms and back as she struggled to get through. It grabbed her hair
and wouldn't let go. Where was he? Where was Ryan? Which way had he
gone?
She forced herself to stop and listen. The
bellow rang out again, and she heard thrashing in the undergrowth
to her
Sandy's pain was exquisite, lancing straight
through her heart. It was getting harder to do, but somehow she
kept her voice light. "So, Mick, do you always just jump in with
both feet?"
"It's the only way, sugar." She could hear
his smile. "You're not really living if you're always looking at
life from the outside."
"Don't you ever think about how you could
get burned?"
He was silent for a moment, then soft
laughter filled her earpiece. "Every time I climb on the truck when
we're called out, sweet stuff."
Color flooded Sandy's face. "I'm sorry—I
didn't mean—that was incredibly insensitive of me."
His laughter grew a little louder. "Relax,
honey, I'm messing with you. I knew what you meant. Look at it this
way. If you don't take chances, you won't get any rewards." He
finished softly, "And right now, I'm thinking marrying you would be
one really great reward."
"You know, you're taking a heck of a chance
asking me to marry you when you don't even know what I look like. I
could be paper-bag homely."
"Then I'll have to lay up a good supply of
paper bags," he teased. Then his voice softened again. "'Love looks
not with the eyes but with the mind.'"
She laughed. "It's hard to fight with a man
when he's quoting Shakespeare."
"That would be the point of doing it." He
laughed softly. "It doesn't matter what you look like on the
outside, Angel. I think you're beautiful."
She had no idea how to respond.
"Angel?" His voice was just a bit louder
than a whisper. "I was serious about getting married. We don't have
to do it in Vegas. You can carry white daisies when you walk down
the aisle to me."
"I know you were serious," she said. "I was
mulling it over."
He chuckled. "And?"
"Yes, Mick. I'd love to marry you." She
closed her eyes against the pain of knowing that day would never
come.
****
Ryan shifted to get a better view of Sandy
while she slept. A week ago he hadn't even known her. Now he
couldn't imagine not being with her. In sleep, her vulnerability
touched him even more deeply than her sensual playfulness when she
was awake. He was at a loss to explain his reaction. He'd never
expected to feel so strongly again.
"Ryan," she murmured as she stirred against
him.
Sitting up, she threw back her head and
raised her arms, stretching like a cat in the sun. The movement
thrust womanly curves against the soft, thin fabric of her tank
top. Her body invited his touch. He sat still, drinking in the
sight as his hunger for her spiraled upward.
She caught his eye and smiled. "I know who
I'm with, Ryan. I've been alone in every sense of the word for a
while now. It's always going to hurt when I wonder about the
might-have-beens. But I'm here with you right now because I want to
be with Ryan McGee, not because I'm looking to replace someone I
can't have."
She bent to lay a tender kiss against his
throat, moving upward to find his mouth. Her lips tempted, his
cried out for more. Hers teased, his sought and found. His hand
rested against her chest. He could feel her heart beating
frantically beneath his fingertips.
The guttural, bawling scream was not of the
earth. Emanating from the thick woods, it echoed unnervingly across
the idyllic clearing.
Sandy leapt away from Ryan, her eyes wide
with alarm.
"What the devil is that?"
Ryan was already on his feet, grabbing the
Winchester from his saddle holster and sprinting toward the sound.
"Calf in trouble! Stay here!" he shouted over his shoulder, before
he pushed into the woods.
****
Paralyzed with fear for several heartbeats,
Sandy finally unstuck her feet and followed Ryan. The brush was
thick. It clawed at her, leaving deep bloody lacerations along her
arms and back as she struggled to get through. It grabbed her hair
and wouldn't let go. Where was he? Where was Ryan? Which way had he
gone?
She forced herself to stop and listen. The
bellow rang out again, and she heard thrashing in the undergrowth
to her
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