Her skin was soft and pliant beneath his hands in spite of her leanness, her muscles supple. Between his finger and thumb, her nipples hard as glacial rock. The arch of her body moving above his was a piece of art.
He sat up, ignoring her panted orders to lie back, and sucked one nipple into his mouth, then the other, lathing them with his tongue, nipping them between his lips. Little cries of pleasure escaped her. He loved those sounds.
Her breaths quickened in tempo with his. The thrusts of her pelvis grew shorter and quicker. He drew his hands down her back, fitting them over her hips, helping guide her toward the destination they both wanted to reach.
Then…
She arched back from him, a guttural, primal sound rising from her throat. It was erotic, arousing, and climactic all at once. And when her muscles clenched around him, rippling the length of him, he tumbled into the oblivion with her.
#
Andi lay spooned against Cole's chest, the first glow of morning light touching the dresser against the near wall. She'd been staring at that piece of furniture since the first grays of predawn. Or more specifically, the drawer in which she'd hidden the damnable ring on a chain.
She'd done a bad thing by seducing Cole before showing him that ring and giving him the chance to remember if there was someone else in his life. She closed her eyes, trying for the hundredth time to close out the evidence of how far she was willing to go for a moment's happiness.
And she had been happy while they'd made love…and afterwards as she fell asleep in Cole's arms…and when she first woke up still in his arms. For all the men who'd passed through her life, Cole was the only with whom she'd spent an entire night—the first one she'd slept with.
She opened her eyes, saw the dresser, and her smile—her sense of happiness faded away. She'd lose him if she showed him the ring now. Even if it didn't jog his memory, he'd hate her for holding out on him.
Hell, she was going to lose him anyway. It was just a matter of time before he remembered enough of his past to leave.
And until that time came, heaven help her, she would keep her ugly secret and grab hold of all the happiness she could.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Cole said in his morning rough voice, splaying his callused hand across her belly.
She sucked a breath and rolled to face him, relishing how his hand skimmed her skin.
"Morning," she purred, pushing all thoughts of the chained ring to the back of her mind as she rolled over to face him, slid her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
#
Cole paced the length of the cabin's living space. Back and forth he paced since being left alone after breakfast with his thoughts about last night. Prediction of a heavy snowfall had sent Andi up to the camp where she'd found him to return the sleeping bag and blanket, clean up what signs of him she could, and replace the window he'd broken.
"If it snows like it's predicted," she'd said, "it'll pretty much cover any tracks around the place."
His problem wasn't covering tracks, but more like retracting those they'd made together last night. He stopped between the couch and fireplace and scrubbed his hands over his face.
He shouldn't have kissed her during the pasty making session. He'd sent her the wrong signal.
No. The signal he'd sent with that kiss was exactly the signal he'd meant to send…at that moment. He just hadn't been thinking beyond the moment—had conveniently forgotten how getting closer to Andi could only hurt her. At the very least, he'd regain enough of his memory to leave her. At worst, his very presence in her life put her in danger. That last was what made cold sweat pop out along his spine.
He dropped onto the couch. Tuff Stuff rose from the spot in front of the cold hearth where she'd lain while he'd paced, sauntered over to him, and plopped her head in his lap.
"Want some ear scratching, huh?"
But, when he scratched the dog behind the ears, her eyes didn't drift shut as they usually did. Instead, they stared intently into his as if to say she hadn't come to him for her pleasure, but to comfort him.
"Waking with her in my arms… It felt so right," he told the dog.
Tuff Stuff's ears strained forward at him as though she knew there was a "but" coming. And there was.
Cole closed his eyes and shook his head. "But it—we can't be."
A mewling sound rose from the dog.
Cole opened his eyes and met Tuff Stuff's questioning gaze. "Don't you get it? She hummed as she made breakfast. She smiled across the table at me—let me help her with the dishes."
Tuff Stuff tipped her head to one side.
"She kissed me good-bye when she headed out!"
Tuff Stuff licked her lips.
"She expects more than I can give her."
Tuff Stuff sat back on her haunches and harrumphed.
Cole propped his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "I want more, too. But…" He sighed. "My being here puts her in danger."
Tuff Stuff let loose a short howl.
"I have to straighten this out with her when she gets back. I have to tell her we can't get any more involved with each other."
The dog huffed, got up, and plodded back to her napping spot, the look in her eye as she propped her chin on her paws resigned.
"I feel the same way," Cole muttered.
#
Andi's truck puttered through the driveway into the garage. Cole rose from the couch and went to the front door, his speech ready.
When she stepped up onto the porch, he slid back the deadbolt, the sound thunderous to his ears. He opened the door and Andi blew into the room like a winter gust, her dark eyes gleaming and huge snowflakes caught in her eyelashes.
She practically vaulted into his arms, leaving him little choice but to close his arms around her. She smiled up at him, a smile that filled her eyes. His heart ached, knowing he had to chase away all that happiness.
"Come on," she said, stepping back, taking only enough time to bolt the door before grabbing him by the wrist and drawing him through the cabin toward the back door.
"What are you up to?" he asked, Tuff Stuff on their heels, yipping.
"We're going to go out and play," she said, pausing in the mudroom to hand him a jacket and pull a knit cap down over his ears.
Tuff Stuff bounded out of the cabin ahead of them and dove off the path, rolling in the fresh snow. Andi danced along the path, stopping halfway to the lake. Turning halfway back to him, she lifted her face into the falling snow, stuck out her tongue, and caught snowflakes on it.
"Come join me," she called between snowflakes.
He stood on the stoop, watching her be a kid, sensing she hadn't had much of a childhood. He couldn't tell her what he must, not just yet.
He stepped off the low porch toward her. No sense ruining the moment. Besides, he might never regain his memory. Maybe the guy wanting him dead had given up. Maybe the local guy didn't care one way or the other.
He stopped in front of Andi, stroked her rosy cheek. A glimmer of something forbidden peered up at him through dilated pupils.
Forbidden.
She caught a snowflake on her tongue, captured his face between her mittened hands, and kissed him.
The chill of the melting snowflake combined with the heat of her invading tongue sent a sensation of desire through him. He'd have liked to shove her into the snowbank, peel off her clothes and make love to her right then and there.
But there were more comfortable places to make love, places where a rambunctious malamute wouldn't think she was invited to play. Besides, playing was so liberating.
Andi wobbled and slipped, taking him to his knees with her. Their laughter echoed in the caverns of their joined mouths.
She broke from the kiss and she shoved a handful of snow in his face.
Surprised, he gasped and sputtered, "So that's how you want to play it."
She was already on her feet running toward the woods. He scooped up a handful of snow, packed it into a ball, and thre
w it, nailing her between the shoulder blades.
She arched and yelped and ducked behind a pine. Seconds later, she emerged and threw her own snowball, catching him in the shoulder.
They threw snowballs back and forth, her using the tree trunk for cover, him ducking behind snowbanks, Tuff Stuff running between them snatching snowballs out of the air. Cole inched closer each time Andi ducked out of sight, detouring from the trail for the last few feet, bounding through the deep snow, and coming up behind her.
A half scream, half laugh escaped her when he surprised her, and she bolted for the cabin. He sprinted after her, tackling her into a snowbank.
"No," she squealed and covered her face with her hands when he scooped up a handful of snow.
But he had a better idea for repaying her for cramming snow in his face. Straddling her, he snagged the front of her shirt by its collar, pulled it away from her skin, and dumped the frigid load down her front.
She shrieked and shoved him off her, sweeping snow up into his face. Likewise, he showered her until the two of them, exhausted, fell to their backs side-by-side in the snow.
They lay panting, snowflakes drifting down on them, Andi the first to speak.
"I haven't had that much fun since I was a kid."
Their hands found each other. But the minute his closed around hers, she bolted upright.
"You aren't wearing gloves," she said, her tone full of alarm. "Your hands must be frozen."
He smiled up at her. "I have a hot body to warm them on."
She eyed his legs. "And you're wet to your knees and I know you don't have insulated underwear under those jeans."
"I'm fine," he said, sitting up.
She snagged him by the wrist and hauled him to his feet. "I won't have you catching a chill on top of everything else you've been through."
After all I’ve been through? Hell, he remembered almost nothing before waking up and finding her tending him. What about all she'd been through in her life?
She towed him toward the house, her voice trailing. "You need to get inside, dry off, and warm up."
In the mudroom, she stripped off his jacket and unfastened his jeans, letting their sodden weight drag the pants to the floor. She closed her hands around one raging-red thigh. He could barely feel her hands on him and he so wanted to feel them.
"You're ice cold," she said, releasing him. "Fastest way to warm you up is in the shower."
She tugged him toward the bathroom. His pants still around his ankles, he stumbled.
"Damn," she muttered, dropping to her knees in front of him. "Forgot to remove your boots."
Her position put her eye level with one rapidly swelling appendage. He braced a hand to the wall as she untied his boots, more to keep from touching her and guiding her to his need.
Removing his boots, she said, "You go first. You're the wettest and coldest."
He pulled her to her feet and backed her into the wall. Standing between her legs, a hand braced to the wall either side of her head, he said, "How about we conserve water and shower together?"
A slow smile spread across her lips and she purred, "I'll get the plastic wrap."
"My stitches can hold up to a little water at this point," he said and leaned in and kissed her neck.
She sucked a breath. "I love that."
"I love that you love it," he said, his lips nipping across her skin to her lips.
The kiss was hot and hungry. Their mouths still locked together, he let her back him into the bathroom where she hip-checked the door closed between them and Tuff Stuff.
The dog whimpered.
"Sorry, Tuff," she called between kisses. "This game is just for the human grown-ups."
Cole sucked a breath. Maybe, just maybe he could stay here forever after all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
That night in bed, Andi gloried in Cole's tending to her as she had him in the shower. She even allowed him to finish in the top position. Now, wrapped in his arms in the afterglow, Andi rested her head on Cole's shoulder, careful to avoid the puckered reminder of a past gunshot wound. No doubt it no longer hurt him. But she didn't want the reminder. Yet, just avoiding the scar meant she'd thought about it.
She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled and exhaled, willing away all thought but the present. It didn't work. But Cole's voice did, though his question didn't incite quite what she had in mind.
"Did you ever call around for someone to cut your timber?"
"Not yet. But I will."
"It'd be a start."
"A start?" she asked, lifting her head and peeking up past his beautiful, strong jaw.
"If we planned out the cutting, it could be the start of laying out a campground that could be a long-term solution to future expense issues."
"We?" she asked, her heartbeat increasing as she levered herself up onto her elbow to better see into his eyes—to better see just how serious he was.
He folded his hands behind his head, met her gaze, and smiled. "Yeah. You and me."
The earnestness in his eyes, the conspiratorial curl of his lips… He really meant it. But she'd brought him to this point based on deception. Would he still want to partner with her—stay with her—if he knew she'd hidden from him the one thing that might unlock his memories, the ring?
His grin stretched. "How would a campground work for you, Miss I'm-Not-a-People-Person?"
Her heart hammered. How deceptive was she willing to be to keep him with her?
"I suppose I could handle having people around for the few months out of the year we have camping weather," she said, desperate to ignore reality—desperate to live the fantasy.
"Or we could start with a couple camps further back from the lake and rent them for hunting and morel season," he said.
"Could we afford that?" she asked, reaching for the dream.
"A couple basic pre-fabs shouldn't be too much. If I did the prep work for the foundation, sewage drainage, power, and water, we'd save on labor. We shouldn't have to borrow too much."
"You know how to do those things?" she asked, welcoming the future he offered.
He snorted. "I think I do. But don't ask me how I know it."
The more they planned, the more Andi succumbed to the fantasy.
And so it went for the rest of the day. By bedtime they even had a long-term plan that included a gas station-one-stop-grocery mart.
Andi snuggled in next to Cole, for the first time in her life knowing what it was to be part of a couple. She even almost had herself convinced they were a normal couple.
#
Andi woke to Tuff Stuff's barks, her early warning system.
"Stay here," she said to Cole as she got out of bed and grabbed her jeans.
A knock sounded from the front door. She pulled on her pants and shrugged into her shirt, buttoning it as she headed for the door in her stocking feet. The silhouette beyond the curtain was unmistakable and, drawing a steadying breath, she opened the door.
"Hey, Tommy," Andi said to the uniformed man standing on her porch, Tuff Stuff poking her head around Andi and gaining an ear-ruffle from the visitor. "To what do I owe the honor of a visit from the State Police?"
"Hi, Andi," her old classmate said, giving her a sad smile. His smiles used to be snide. He knew her reputation—had firsthand knowledge of it from back in the bad old days. But that was before he'd been one of the cops on the scene the day Theo had died—before her world changed.
"Coffee smells great," he said.
Silently, she cursed the automated timer on her coffeemaker. "I don't give away my coffee anymore, Tommy."
He grimaced. "That's not what I'm implying, Andi. I just thought it might be nicer to talk inside."
"And what would we have to talk about?" she asked, kneeing Tuff back from the door and folding her arms across her chest.
"Whether or not you've seen this man," he said, holding out a photocopied picture of Cole.
Business, as she'd feared. But, unlike Agent Fedora's picture
, Tommy's was sharper—official looking, with Cole looking straight at the camera. Searching the background of the close-cropped shot for any hint of mug shot lines behind his head and seeing none, she asked, "Is he wanted for something?"
"He's a missing person."
Which could mean anything.
"Who is he?" she asked, probing for a last name.
Instead of answering her question, Tommy said, "Given how you look after the camps around here and plow people out, I figured you'd be a good one to ask if you've spotted anything unusual in the past week or so."
She grunted.
"Is that a yes or a no?" he asked.
"No," she said, jumping in with a diverting question of her own. "Is there a manhunt organized?"
"No."
She blinked in surprise, her desire to get rid of the cop momentarily forgotten. "Why not?"
"The search is being done on the QT."
"Why?"
"Don't know. Orders came from higher up."
"Is he dangerous?"
"Doubtful. We've been ordered not to use lethal force if we find him."
Lethal force. There were two scary words.
When she focused on Tommy again, he was giving her a head to toe glance. Was her hair sleep-tussled? She wasn't a late riser and everybody knew it. Did he read something into the fact she'd answered the door in stocking feet?
Could he smell Cole on her?
His gaze strayed over her shoulder, scanning the room behind her. Had she or Cole left out some sign of his presence? Was Tommy wondering why Tuff had curled up in the bedroom doorway when all the activity was at the front of the cabin?
When Tommy's gaze settled back on her, he asked, "So how you doing, Andi?"
"Getting by," she replied.
"Anything I can do for you?"
You can leave. You can stop pretending you care about me just because you saw me in my most broken moment.
She shook her head and started to hand the paper with Cole's picture on it back to him. He waved her off.
"Keep it," he said, his cop face sliding into place. "I've got more."
She nodded, willing him to leave even though she would have liked to get more information out of him.
Saving Andi: St. John Sibling Series: FRIENDS Page 11