started talking about what she had to
bargain with? Every Lifetime movie she’d ever seen flashed through her brain.
What the hell had she been thinking wandering into a strange
cabin like this?
She eyed the poker for the fire, trying to calculate whether
she could reach it before he reached her. Since actual odds had never really
stopped Clarie from doing anything, she lunged toward the fireplace, intent on
the poker, and did not even register at first as to why she didn’t reach her
goal. The mountain man had moved so quickly that the poker was out of reach—flung
across the room, in fact—before she could even think of grasping it, and his
fingers were wrapped, tightly, around her wrists, which he held apart as he
stared down at her.
Although most of his face was covered by the sides of the
parka hood, she could see from the apparently proprietary fire light that his
eyes were a deep green. And they bore down on her with an expression that she
had never had any trouble recognizing quite easily from the time she had been
sixteen or thereabouts.
Okay, now she was really scared.
He stared down at her, a smile forming. She noticed
irrelevantly that he had very straight, very white teeth. Dental care
apparently had made its way up to the Smokies.
“Believe me, I’m not that hard up.” He dropped her wrists
and turned away.
Of course, he’d lied. He was that hard up, technically
speaking, if you took into account the amount of time since he’d last touched a
woman. Just the feel of this one’s slender wrists in his own cold hands had
given him a boner, which was why he’d dropped them. A hell of a time for his
libido to kick back into gear after he’d all but given it up for dead.
Even putting aside his own state, however, he had to admit
that this unexpected refugee from the storm looked darned good—despite the
sodden, three-times-too-big sweater and the red nose and the damp reams of
hair. She looked beautiful in fact, with the firelight glinting off her high
cheekbones and lush lips. He knew from long experience that some things
couldn’t be ruined. This was the kind of girl who would probably look beautiful
in a hurricane. A mere snow storm didn’t stand a chance of marring her allure.
So of course he’d ordered her out. He was done with
beautiful things, even ones unexpectedly dropped on his doorstep.
“I’m not talking about your delectable little self as
payment.” He said the words so derisively that it became obvious from the
tightening of her lips and the crossing of her arms over her chest that she
felt a touch of embarrassment, which had been his intent. “I’m talking about a
currency I can use. How much cash do you have on you?”
“You’re going to charge me?”
“Why not? If this was a hotel, you’d expect to pay a hundred
bucks.”
“Not even close. Sixty-five at most.”
“Well, you’re welcome to go find other more affordable
accommodations, then.”
“I don’t have any cash.”
“Okay. Bye bye.”
Shrugging out of his parka, he kicked his boots off and
reached for the remote control that controlled the lights, switching them on.
Rubbing his hands, he made his way to the thermostat as well, cranking up the
heat.
Turning to his little visitor, he saw the harsh light seemed
to have stunned her.
Or something.
“I can’t believe this,” she finally said. “It’s you!”
They stared at each other for a minute and he recognized the
rapt expression on her pretty face, though he hadn’t seen it for quite a while.
Admiration. Great. This was so not happening.
“Liam Conner!” She fumbled for a dog-eared paperback in her
bag and held the back up to him, as if proving the fact of his identity with
the photo thereon.
He looked at it blankly. “Yeah. So what?”
“You’re the reason why I’m here! I came out here to see
you.”
That was troubling. “How the hell did you know I was here?
How did you find me?”
“Well, I didn’t. I mean I was on my
bargain with? Every Lifetime movie she’d ever seen flashed through her brain.
What the hell had she been thinking wandering into a strange
cabin like this?
She eyed the poker for the fire, trying to calculate whether
she could reach it before he reached her. Since actual odds had never really
stopped Clarie from doing anything, she lunged toward the fireplace, intent on
the poker, and did not even register at first as to why she didn’t reach her
goal. The mountain man had moved so quickly that the poker was out of reach—flung
across the room, in fact—before she could even think of grasping it, and his
fingers were wrapped, tightly, around her wrists, which he held apart as he
stared down at her.
Although most of his face was covered by the sides of the
parka hood, she could see from the apparently proprietary fire light that his
eyes were a deep green. And they bore down on her with an expression that she
had never had any trouble recognizing quite easily from the time she had been
sixteen or thereabouts.
Okay, now she was really scared.
He stared down at her, a smile forming. She noticed
irrelevantly that he had very straight, very white teeth. Dental care
apparently had made its way up to the Smokies.
“Believe me, I’m not that hard up.” He dropped her wrists
and turned away.
Of course, he’d lied. He was that hard up, technically
speaking, if you took into account the amount of time since he’d last touched a
woman. Just the feel of this one’s slender wrists in his own cold hands had
given him a boner, which was why he’d dropped them. A hell of a time for his
libido to kick back into gear after he’d all but given it up for dead.
Even putting aside his own state, however, he had to admit
that this unexpected refugee from the storm looked darned good—despite the
sodden, three-times-too-big sweater and the red nose and the damp reams of
hair. She looked beautiful in fact, with the firelight glinting off her high
cheekbones and lush lips. He knew from long experience that some things
couldn’t be ruined. This was the kind of girl who would probably look beautiful
in a hurricane. A mere snow storm didn’t stand a chance of marring her allure.
So of course he’d ordered her out. He was done with
beautiful things, even ones unexpectedly dropped on his doorstep.
“I’m not talking about your delectable little self as
payment.” He said the words so derisively that it became obvious from the
tightening of her lips and the crossing of her arms over her chest that she
felt a touch of embarrassment, which had been his intent. “I’m talking about a
currency I can use. How much cash do you have on you?”
“You’re going to charge me?”
“Why not? If this was a hotel, you’d expect to pay a hundred
bucks.”
“Not even close. Sixty-five at most.”
“Well, you’re welcome to go find other more affordable
accommodations, then.”
“I don’t have any cash.”
“Okay. Bye bye.”
Shrugging out of his parka, he kicked his boots off and
reached for the remote control that controlled the lights, switching them on.
Rubbing his hands, he made his way to the thermostat as well, cranking up the
heat.
Turning to his little visitor, he saw the harsh light seemed
to have stunned her.
Or something.
“I can’t believe this,” she finally said. “It’s you!”
They stared at each other for a minute and he recognized the
rapt expression on her pretty face, though he hadn’t seen it for quite a while.
Admiration. Great. This was so not happening.
“Liam Conner!” She fumbled for a dog-eared paperback in her
bag and held the back up to him, as if proving the fact of his identity with
the photo thereon.
He looked at it blankly. “Yeah. So what?”
“You’re the reason why I’m here! I came out here to see
you.”
That was troubling. “How the hell did you know I was here?
How did you find me?”
“Well, I didn’t. I mean I was on my
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