Footprints in the Snow

by Cassie Miles

  “The way you lied to me?”

  “Not a lie,” he corrected. “I just didn’t tell you everything.”

  She stalked through the front door to the hotel and into the lobby. Ignoring the elevator, she went to the stairs. Her room was only on the third floor.

  “Hold it,” Luke said. “Where do you think you’re headed?”

  “To my room where I will lock the door and stay safely inside until morning.”

  “You promised me a dance,” he said.

  The music from the ballroom drifted through the lobby. The very last thing she wanted was to dance with him. “Forget it.”

  He held out his hand toward her. “You promised.”

  After the way he’d messed around with her, he didn’t deserve a dance. Still, a promise was a promise. “Okay. One dance.”

  Together, they entered the ballroom. The combo—including a saxophone, a bass, drums and piano—was playing a slow dance, and the front man sang something about taking a slow boat to China, which sounded like a good idea to Shana. A slow boat to anywhere that was far away from Luke.

  Around the ballroom, dozens of teenagers had partnered up. Half the young men had cast aside their suit jackets. The young ladies in their fancy dresses pressed close to their dates.

  In her slacks and blouse, Shana knew she was too underdressed to be here. Also too old. She murmured, “I never went to a prom. My family was abroad during high school.”

  “We’re even,” he said. “I never finished high school.”

  “I remember. You told me.” The Great Depression had cut short his education.

  “I took all the classes and more. Lots of emergency medical training. But I wasn’t in school.” He gestured. “This is my first prom.”

  The slow dance ended with a polite round of applause. The front man for the combo tossed his microphone from hand to hand. “Boys and girls, are you ready to swing?”

  The teenagers yelled. “Yeah!”

  “Let’s hear it for the ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.’”

  Luke pulled her onto the ballroom floor. His blue eyes focused on her face, and he gave her a cool, sexy look as he slicked back his hair on one side of his head, then the other. His shoulders bobbed in time with the heavy, throbbing beat.

  She mirrored his action.

  His hips were loose. His knees were bent as he kicked to the left, then the right. Very cool and hip. He absolutely knew what he was doing. She followed his lead, copying his smooth moves and adding a few of her own, glad that she was wearing flats.

  He placed his hands on her hips. “Shake it, Shana.”

  With hands thrust over her head, she wriggled from head to toe. She probably looked crazy, but she didn’t care. The rhythm pumped through her veins. The wail of the sax vibrated inside her. She tossed her head, and her long hair swung around her face. Oh, yeah! She loved the drums, the incessant beat of the drums.

  Smoothly, Luke darted close to her and slung an arm around her waist. Without even trying, she synchronized her steps with his. Forward and back. Kick and back. He twirled her away from him, then dragged her back.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Ready for what?”

  “Both arms around my neck,” he said. “And hold on.”

  He lifted her off her feet and slung her across his right side, then to his left. He was throwing her around as if her weight was nothing, as if she were light as a feather pillow.

  Their palms pressed flat against each other. Their heads were close together. And they kept moving, moving to the beat. To the exhilaration of the drums.

  When the song ended, he was holding her close. They were both breathing hard. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Hubba, hubba, baby.”

  Hubba, hubba? Who said things like that? And why did it sound like an invitation to bed?

  Chapter Ten

  Luke intended to drop Shana off in her room and then resume his attempt to find the Russians. It was unfortunate that Jack Swenson had been unable to pick up any useful information on their whereabouts, but the spies had covered their tracks too well.

  The way Luke figured, his best option for finding them was to stand in the middle of the street, waving his arms and yelling, “Come and get me.” Dangerous? Hell, yes. The intelligence level of this tactic was grade school, but he couldn’t think of a better way to draw a gang of bullies into the open.

  In the carpeted hallway outside Shana’s bedroom, he waited for her to fit the key into the lock. His gaze slid down her shoulders and back, focusing on the lissome curve from her waist to her rounded hips. She had a great little body. Firm and slender. When he’d danced with her, he liked the way she felt in his arms. “Whoever told you that you couldn’t dance was an idiot.”

  “Until tonight, I never had the right partner.” She opened the door and turned toward him. Her lips curved in a mischievous grin.

  He took a step back. “I guess this is good-night.”

  That was when she pounced. With both hands, she grabbed his lapels and pulled him into her bedroom. Still holding him, she kicked the door closed. Her mouth fastened on his. Her tongue slid across his lips.

  He shouldn’t kiss her back. He had a duty to find the spies who threatened Fermi. But how the hell could he resist this amazing, sexy woman?

  His hands cupped her ass, and he yanked her against him. Her hips ground against him. In scant moments, the friction of her body aroused him. Desire pooled in his groin. He was hard.

  She gazed up at him. “Come to my bed.”

  “Shana, you know I have things to do.”

  “Do me, instead.”

  How could he say no? His sensory memory replayed the intense pleasure of the first night he’d met her. Hungrily, he tasted her mouth. His lips were greedy for more, so much more.

  Gasping, he made one more objection. “Don’t you want me to catch the Russians?”

  “I don’t want you using yourself as a target.”

  “There’s no other way.” His fingers closed around the delicate softness of her breast, and he groaned with the pleasure of touching her. “If I could think of some other tactic, I would—”

  “Stop it!” She shoved hard against his chest. In a graceful, catlike move, she leaped onto the bed and knelt there. She pointed an accusing finger at his nose. “Can’t you, just for one damned minute, stop being a hero. You’d rather stay here with me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Then, stay,” she pleaded. “Leave the job of catching the bad guys up to somebody else.”

  His vision clouded. He was nearly blinded by his own lust. “Damn it, Shana. It’s not like I have a choice. They came after us. They attacked us.”

  “But we’re safe in here. You and me. Let’s forget about the rest of the world. Leave the war and the spies and your duty outside.”

  He exhaled slowly as he considered his duties, his responsibilities as a soldier. For four years, he’d trained with the 10th Mountain Division. The army had made a substantial investment in his development. He couldn’t turn his back and walk away. “I’ll come back to you. Later tonight, I’ll come back.”

  “What if you don’t?” she demanded. “What if you can’t come back to me because you’ve been shot dead?”

  “I won’t be.”

  She sank back on her heels. With her long legs curled beneath her on the bed, she was the picture of seduction in spite of the anger that flared from her dark eyes. Her voice was harsh as she continued, “You can’t promise me that you’ll stay safe.”

  “I’ve made it this far.”

  “Which is no guarantee that you’ll see tomorrow’s sunrise. I don’t want to hear any more of your lies.”

  He wasn’t a liar. Luke was doing the best he could with the information he had. He didn’t know why the spies had come after them on the pass. All he could do was hope they’d attack again. This time, they wouldn’t get away.

  Reaching into his pocket, he took out his Lucky
Strike packet. “Mind if I smoke?”

  “Go ahead,” she muttered. “Smoking is really bad for your health.”

  He flipped open his Zippo and fired up. “I seem to be doing a lot of things that aren’t good for me. Following orders I don’t agree with. Trusting you when everybody else thinks you’re a spy. Going to war.”

  “At least, the war part is over,” she said grimly. “You’ve already been to the front lines and come back.”

  “I ship out again in less than a week,” he said.

  Her gasp was audible. She shook her head from side to side as she whispered one word over and over. “No. No. No.”

  Luke thought he’d already told her, that she knew he had to return to Italy. “I have to go back.”

  “The army wouldn’t do that. You were already wounded.”

  “I pulled some strings to get reassigned to the front,” he admitted. “I have to find Roberto.”

  “There’s got to be another way. Somebody you can contact. Maybe through the Red Cross.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve already tried? The priest I left Roberto with has disappeared, and there’s no sign of the boy. He has no family. Nobody else but me.”

  “Don’t go.” Her voice cracked with strong emotion. “Stay with me. Please, stay with me.”

  “This is something I have to do.”

  “But I need you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Her words shocked him. She sounded desperate and scared. Tears shimmered at the edge of her eyelids. Her chin tilted up, and she inclined her face toward him. In her eyes, he saw yearning and a sincere desire that had nothing to do with sex.

  When he’d shipped out before, he wasn’t leaving anyone behind. His fiancée had dumped him, and he’d lost contact with his family. He had nobody back home, nobody who gave a damn if he lived or died. His only family was the army—the other G.I.’s in the 10th Mountain Division. Then, he met Roberto.

  Now, there was Shana. How had she become so attached to him?

  An unfamiliar feeling crept over him. Fear. He wasn’t sure he could handle her needs, her desires, her passion for him. “I’m leaving now. I’ll see you later.”

  He strode toward the door and twisted the handle. When he looked back at her, she was crumpled on the bed. Her hands covered her face.

  He should have stayed and comforted her. Instead, he fled. Like a yellow coward.

  THAT VISION OF SHANA clung to him as he left the hotel and went into the streets. He’d changed out of his short Eisenhower jacket into a longer coat. In his pocket, easily in reach, was his handgun. If he managed to locate the Russians, he wanted to be prepared.

  As he walked the streets of Aspen under the street-lamps, the locals greeted him. People he’d never met wanted to shake his hand and wish him Godspeed. His presence couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d painted a big red bull’s-eye on his back.

  In one of the taverns, he spotted Martin and Henry. Both appeared to be having a good time, laughing and drinking beer. If they’d been more seasoned troops, he could have used their help. Unfortunately, these two guys could barely remember to zip their flies. They’d never be able to handle strategy. Luke was on his own.

  Outside again, he counted off the paces on the sidewalk and turned into an alley behind the Main Street shops. Apprehension prickled down his spine. He could feel someone watching. This alley would be the perfect place for an ambush.

  As far as he knew, there were four Russians. If they came at him from four directions, he’d have to move fast, to seek cover and aim carefully. Every bullet would have to be a direct hit.

  But nothing happened.

  He watched the cars on the street, probed the shadows and found nothing. Checking his wristwatch, he saw that an hour had passed. When the hell was something going to happen?

  SHANA HAD CAREFULLY HUNG her new outfit in the hotel room closet and changed into the long underwear that served as pajamas. Lying under the covers on the bed, she tried to summon up a fresh burst of anger at Luke. And she failed. She couldn’t be mad at him. The man couldn’t help being a hero, thrusting himself into danger.

  But how could he even think of returning to the front lines in Italy where men were dying every day? Being killed in combat? She wanted to tell him that his search for Roberto could wait until after the war. If he went to Italy next year at this time, she’d go with him. She’d help him find the child.

  Next year? Would she be here next year? Or would the time travel reverse itself?

  With a mental sigh, she realized that she didn’t want to return to her regular life in the twenty-first century. Nineteen forty-five was her time, the place where she really belonged. Here. With Luke.

  She turned off the bedside lamp, and her eyelids closed. Tonight, she’d hoped to share this bed—the first decent mattress she’d found in this era—with Luke. Instead, her only companion was loneliness and confusion.

  HER DREAM WAS VIVID. She looked up and saw a beautiful bouquet of pink rosebuds and baby’s breath.

  Her father was talking. His words were garbled as if he were speaking Latin from the bottom of a well, but she recognized the timbre of his voice and his phrasing. She struggled to decipher his words, hoping he had good advice for a change. Throughout her life, her father had only one plan for her: find a good man, marry him and settle down.

  She wanted to tell him that he was partially correct. In Luke, she’d found a man she wanted to be with, a man she could never let go. Had he felt the same way about her mother? Mom had died nearly twenty-five years ago, and he’d never remarried. His bond to her must have been amazingly powerful.

  Very clearly, she heard him say the words she’d longed to hear as a child. “I love you, Shana.”

  “I love you, too.”

  A pleasant warmth flowed through her. Being loved was more important than time or space.

  When she reached toward the pink roses, wishing to caress their petal softness, she heard Luke’s voice calling to her, “Wake up, Shana. You have to wake up.”

  But she didn’t want to. The dream comforted her.

  “Wake up.”

  SHE OPENED HER EYES. Moonlight spilled around the edges of the closed curtains and outlined the shoulders of a man standing at the foot of her bed. Her heart jumped. “Luke?”

  Fumbling in the dark, she turned on the beside lamp and glanced expectantly toward the end of the bed. The figure had moved. The man—a stranger—was right beside her. His gloved hand pressed tightly over her mouth.

  “Silence, woman.” His voice was heavily accented. “If you scream, I will snap your neck.”

  He could kill her in an instant, and she knew it. Her rose-colored dream shredded into shards of confetti as she struggled to breathe. His wool glove smelled like sweat and cordite. He was a gunman, a sniper, a killer. And he had her in his grasp. Beyond her terror, she recognized the horrible irony of the situation. Luke’s plan to act as a human target had worked. But the bad guys hadn’t come after him. Instead, this man had sought her out.

  “Listen to me,” the stranger said in a low growl. “You will say nothing. Only listen.”

  She nodded. When he removed his hand, her gaze searched his face, memorizing his features so she would know him if she ever saw him again, if she was lucky enough to live through this encounter.

  His features were average. Dark hair and eyebrows. Stubble on his chin. He wasn’t a monster. If she’d seen him on the street, she would have passed him by without a second thought.

  Yet, his nearness made her skin crawl. His was the face of her enemy, an enemy of her country, a man who had tried on the pass to kill her. He loomed above her with one of his knees on the bed—a mockery of the intimacy she had hoped to share tonight with Luke.

  “You are a spy,” he said. “Who are you working for?”

  “I’m not a spy.” Her voice creaked as though her vocal cords had been paralyzed. “I don’t work for anybody. I just happened to turn up in the wrong place at the wrong
time.”

  “Italian,” he said. “Your leader, il duce, is dead. Benito Mussolini and his mistress were hung in the streets. You owe him no loyalty.”

  Shana dared to look into his dark eyes. All she saw was darkness. A total lack of sympathy for her. And she knew that this man wouldn’t hesitate to end her life. Still she repeated the truth. “I’m no spy.”

  “And yet, you have made the connection with Fermi. He trusts you.”

  “How do you know that?” She assumed that he and his companions had been watching from the forests surrounding Camp Hale. Had they come closer? Had they infiltrated the camp? “Who are you? Who do you work for?”

  His arm lashed out. His fingers closed around her throat and he squeezed, cutting off her air. “I ask the questions. Not you.”

  Unable to breathe, she tore at his arm, trying to loosen his grasp. His fingers were a steel vise. Helpless, she was helpless. At the dark edge of unconsciousness, he released her and she fell back on the pillow, gasping.

  Her mind hurtled from one solution to another. There had to be something she could do. Fight back? Though she’d taken the required training in martial arts before she was stationed in Kuwait, she’d never used her skills in a real situation, never expected to be trapped on a bed with her legs pinned beneath the covers.

  “Now,” he said, “you are working for me. You will use your female wiles to get Fermi alone.”

  Her feminine wiles? She croaked, “To seduce him?”

  “No. He is faithful to his wife and family.” He leaned over her and trailed the back of his gloved hand along her cheek. His touch revolted her. “This time you will not use your raven-haired beauty. Fermi would suspect a ruse.”

  “Even if you kidnap Fermi, it’ll take years to duplicate his research. You’re already too late.”

  “We’ll see.” He lightly slapped her cheek. “Tomorrow you return to Camp Hale. On the follow ing morning, you will bring Fermi to the edge of the forest outside the main house. My men will be waiting. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “If you fail,” he said, “you will die.”