by R. Casteel
Midnight found him staring into the face of the storm. Thunder rumbled over the mountain and echoed through the valley. He was worried. She still hadn’t woken up. He couldn’t afford the luxury of going to sleep for fear that she would wake up and he wouldn’t hear her.
Charles heard a noise from the bedroom and rushed in. She thrashed about on the bed and moaned in her sleep. Her skin glistened with beads of sweat and her face was flushed. He felt her forehead.
“Damn girl, you’re burning up.” With a muffled curse, he grabbed several bath towels and soaked them in cold water.
He began cooling her off with the towels but she was fighting him. There were times when he had to forcefully hold her down. Her mumblings became harsh spoken words.
“Don’t touch me Jeff, leave me alone…No…Don’t touch me…I loved you. Why…Shannon… Bitch… Don’t touch me.”
After three hours of delirious ramblings and forgotten number of trips to the bathroom to keep the towels cool, her fever broke. He changed the sheets and checked her forehead with the back of his hand. Her temperature felt normal.
As he headed for the kitchen portion of his A-frame, he noticed the time, three in the morning. She had been here twelve hours and he still had no clue who slept in his bed.
If old lady Higgins hadn’t delayed me at the grocery, she would still be at the bottom of the ravine.
For once in his life, Charles was thankful for an old widow woman who could talk the ears off a deaf dog.
Charles couldn’t remember ever being as exhausted, as he was right then. He stood looking out at the wind driven snow. With a fresh cup of strong black coffee to ward off the cobwebs of sleep, he propped his foot on the wide windowsill, and thought of her.
She had to be around five and a half feet tall. Her shoulder length black hair had a glow all of its own and hers was a figure most women would envy. When he had checked for a possible concussion, it was like looking into a bottomless well. How easy it would be to fall in and never want to come to the surface.
His body tightened and his mouth went dry as the last few hours played over in his mind; the constant feel of her skin as he had bathed her, her firm breasts and flat smooth plane of her belly, dimpled by the sexiest navel he had ever seen. A thick triangle of tightly curled hair covered the secret folds of her inner flesh.
Taking his coffee with him, Charles went back to check on his sleeping beauty. She wasn’t actually his sleeping beauty, she was unconscious, she was in his bed, but she was most definitely a beauty. He considered giving himself another lecture on right and wrong and decided against it. His body probably wouldn’t listen anyway.
As Charles walked into the room, he realized he should have come right back instead of daydreaming of long hair and sultry black eyes. Her temperature had dropped and she was shivering uncontrollably. He added more wood to the stove and placed extra blankets over her, but nothing seemed to help.
Charles stripped down to his shorts and climbed under the covers to add his body heat. Several minutes later, the shivering gradually grew less and then stopped. With the exhaustion of the last several hours weighing heavily upon his body, Charles drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 2
Floating somewhere between unconscious and conscious, Cynthia realized she was warm…hot actually. When the realization came that the heat was coming from beside her, she was transported from dream world to stark reality. She was as naked as a newborn baby with a man next to her. With his arm around her and one hand lightly holding a breast, it could only be described as a very intimate position.
In a flash, it all came back…Shannon ready to jump in the shower with Jeff. Her getting lost, the snow and then the sickening crash.
Cynthia jumped out of bed and the floor became the ceiling. The bed appeared to float in the air and the room spun like a merry-go-round. She reached for the table to steady herself and missed. As the table lamp crashed to the floor, she made the mistake of looking down and watched as the floor rose up to meet her.
The crash of the lamp brought Charles instantly awake. Leaping from the bed, he reached her side as she hit the floor. Carefully lifting her, he laid her back onto the bed.
Slowly she opened her eyes. There…just inches away, were the bluest eyes she had ever seen. His face had a rugged look with a square jaw and was covered by the dark shadow of his beard. His nose had been broken at least once. Long black hair covered the tops of his ears and curled at the neck.
The intensity of his gaze drew her eyes back to his. They seemed to penetrate her soul.
She had seen that anxious look on Dad’s face when a mare was sick or Mom’s when one of the ranch hand’s children was sick. She would sit up all night, caring for the child, just like it was one of her own family.
This stranger was worried about her.
Cynthia tried to move. Lights flashed behind tightly squeezed eyelids as her head and arm throbbed. She felt as if the bed was again spinning out of control.
“Hold still, you’re in no shape to be moving, at least by yourself.” The words from the blue-eyed stranger penetrated through the foggy haze of pain.
She tried to focus. “Okay,” she took a couple of breaths, “I won’t move. Just answer a question. Who are you? Where am I and why am I naked in your bed? Why does my arm hurt like Hell?”
“That’s four.”
“That’s four what?” she huffed in exasperation.
“That’s four questions,” he laughed.
She wasn’t in the mood for jokes but the sound of his light chuckle lifted her spirits.
“First, I am Charles Randall, this is my home, and you had an accident. By the time I got you here we were both soaked from the snow. I couldn’t very well put you to bed in wet clothes. Besides, it made it a lot easier to check for any other injuries you might have received in addition to the broken arm. Which would probably not be hurting as bad…if you hadn’t fallen on it when you jumped out of bed.”
“You would probably jump out of bed too if you woke up with a complete stranger next to you. Why were you in bed with me?” Cynthia asked, and then wished she hadn’t. The intimate details of waking up beside him with his warm breath on the side of her neck, a solid arm protectively around her and his large hand covering her breast were etched in her memory. She felt the heat of embarrassment flush her face.
“Several hours after I got you here you developed a high fever, after your fever broke you started shivering. Turning the heat up and adding blankets didn’t help. The only other option I had was to share my body heat with you. I hadn’t planned on falling asleep.”
“Now, I have a question, actually several. Who are you and just what the hell were you thinking, driving on this mountain road in a blizzard?”
She hesitated, “I’m Cynthia, and I wasn’t thinking.” Her voice took on a defensive edge. She wasn’t going to reveal the humiliation she had experienced. “It’s a long story, one I don’t want to discuss. What I do need is to get to the bathroom.”
“I’ll help you,” he chuckled, “I don’t want to pick you up off the floor again.”
“I can manage, if you will kindly get me something to wear,” she bristled. Cynthia didn’t like being the brunt of his laughter. As he went to get a bathrobe, he shook his head in disbelief. After everything that had happened she didn’t want to be helped to the bathroom. He brought the robe back and handed it to her. “You know you remind me of my sister, stubborn.”
“Out!” she stressed, and pointed to the door.
Charles just stood there with a cocky grin. Cynthia’s eyes became daggers.
“If you’re worried about your modesty,” Charles returned smirking, “who do you think undressed you and took care of you for the last,” he looked at his watch, “eighteen hours? I don’t have a maid.”
“At least, you could close your eyes…please?”
He did as requested and, with his eyes closed, held the robe for her. It didn’t do one bit of good. Every in
ch of her exquisite body was already etched into his mind. The skin that felt like velvet stretched over taut firm muscles. The long raven hair, eyes as black as the midnight sky and deep as a bottomless well.
Charles held her arm as she walked unsteadily to the door of the bathroom.
“Thank you. I can manage from here.” She closed the door.
He dressed while he waited for her to finish.
The door opened. Cynthia leaned against the doorpost, “I’m done.”
He directed her steps back towards the bed.
“Oh, no you don’t! I am not going back to bed!” Cynthia vowed. “If you’re worried that I might fall you can help me, but I am not staying here.”
Cynthia sighed as Charles carefully carried her downstairs. She looked around and smiled. “I like your place. The view is breathtaking.”
What Cynthia didn’t like was the confused feelings she had when she was in his arms. They were strong yet gentle. This combination unsettled her. It felt comfortable being cradled in his strength. Too comfortable.
Acutely aware of his hair brushing her arm that was around his neck, the broad shoulders and rock hard muscles that carried her with ease. Her breast, flattened against his chest, sent impulses of heat through her with each step he took.
Raw emotions surged through her veins like fire.
Why now? If Jeff had held her like this last week, she would have been thrilled. She didn’t understand why she felt this heightened physical awareness, in the arms of a complete stranger. The weird and wonderful feelings confused her.
“I’m glad you like it.” He walked over to the couch. “I’ve lived here five years and never get tired of it. Ever since I built it, I haven’t wanted to be anywhere else. But what about you?”
Charles’s breathing was labored, not from carrying her but because of her nearness. Cradled in his arms with her long hair cascading over his shoulder like a sensuous caress, the heat from her body was warming his to dangerous levels.
He looked into her eyes that sparkled with life…and something else. It was that something else that troubled him.
“Where’s home for you?”
Charles watched the light in her eyes dim and lose the excitement he had seen earlier.
“Outside Dallas,” she replied turning away.
He sat her down on the couch.
Nervously, she looked around the house. The loft, which was his office, overlooked the spacious living room. The fireplace was centered in a wall of glass. On a clear day the view of the entire valley below and the majestic mountains on the other side would be breathtaking. The kitchen, the portion she could see of it, looked completely modern. A breakfast bar separated it from the living room.
Cynthia’s thoughts were in turmoil. If she started talking about personal things like family and home, the conversation would undoubtedly come back to the accident and why she’d been on the road in the storm. Unconsciously she twisted a strand of hair through her fingers. Her personal life was something she couldn’t discuss with anyone until she had time to think.
Her gaze returned to the window, “It’s beautiful.”
She’s hiding something or running away from…someone. Her words spoken during her delirious ramblings came to him. Who was Jeff?
“Cynthia, how about that coffee while I fix us up something to eat?” He needed to get his mind off the unsettling effect her being here caused. There hadn’t been many women in his life the last six years, definitely none that had been in his home. With Cynthia marooned for God only knew how long, feelings were resurrecting that had long ago been buried.
Charles was happy with his life. He’d built his home on a Colorado Mountain slope away from people, away from civilization. He had the quiet and the solitude he needed to carefully inspect every aspect of the blueprints his company designed. He double-checked each specification for every foundation, wall and beam until he was one hundred percent certain everything was right. Steven often complained that they were always running late, but Charles refused to compromise.
Cynthia looked at the masculine beauty of the house; it was all around her yet, unlike other bachelor homes, it didn’t jump out and grab her. The house reflected the owner. Well built, rugged and dependable.
Growing up around stables, horses and cowboys, she had learned first hand about horses that looked great in the corral, but wouldn’t last on the range. They had no endurance and you couldn’t count on them when they were needed the most. The same was true of their riders.
Charles was definitely one you could ride the range with. He wasn’t too bad to have in the kitchen either if she could go by the smell coming from that direction. She might have forgotten when she had eaten last but her body hadn’t. It was protesting very loudly about the neglect.
“I have never seen so much snow all at once. How long will it take to get the roads open?”
Somehow, Charles had managed to prepare a meal without burning it. He found it was hard to concentrate on cooking food while wondering what her skin would feel like burning with passion instead of a fever. He kept seeing that perfect figure with lean muscle, tight legs and thighs. Charles shook his head in disgust at the direction his thoughts were going. She had suffered a serious injury during her accident. He had to keep reminding himself for her sake, if not for his own.
“Excuse me!” she raised her voice to get his attention.
The fact that she had been speaking finally penetrated his mind.
“I’m sorry. You were saying?”
What were you so intently thinking about, Charles?
“I asked about the roads. When they would be cleared?”
“This road is one of the last to get cleaned. It’s not on the normal tourist route and there are no ski lodges on this side of the mountain.” He flipped the steaks on the grill top of his stove. “I doubt anyone could get through, I barely made it home as it was.”
A puzzled look came over her face. “Then who set my arm? You?”
“Well I did the best I could do.” He paused, checked the fire and looked back at her. “With the phones out and the roads closed because of the storm I couldn’t leave it like it was. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the pain.”
“What about my car? Was it badly damaged in the accident?”
He could tell by the look on her face she was even more worried about the car than her arm being broke. He also knew she wasn’t going to like his answer.
“Well” he began, “It’s hard to say. It was buried in the snow. After the snowplows have cleaned the road there will be four to five feet of snow covering it, maybe more.”
“Oh.”
She had the shocked disbelieving look of a little kid who had just been told the truth about Santa and the Easter Bunny at the same time.
“It’s just a car.” A person should stop and think before speaking, especially when a distraught female is involved. He should have, but didn’t.
The meal was delayed as he went to the couch, took her into his arms and let her cry.
“Daddy gave me that car,” she sobbed, “on my twenty-first birthday.” She curled up against him and cried on his shoulder.
“Forgive me, Cynthia. I’m sorry I said it like that,” he kissed the top of her head. “It may be awhile, but I’m sure that when they get it pulled out of the ravine there’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”
Cynthia looked up with tear-filled eyes that sparkled like black diamonds.
“You’re sure?” She asked with a quavering voice.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Actually, Charles figured the damage was quite extensive but he wasn’t going to tell her that.
“Hey, was that thunder I heard?” Charles teased arching an eyebrow.
“No! It wasn’t,” she replied a little hotly as she wiped the last tear from her eye. “That was me, didn’t you promise some food?” Then she ruined it by smiling.
That smile was like a neon beer sign on a hot August night. Making
a man just want to pull up and have a cold one. But that would be a dumb thing to do. Well, maybe not dumb but definitely risky.
“Your wish is my command. My Lady, would you care to join me at my humble table?”
Thus said and without waiting for a reply, Charles picked her up and carried her to the breakfast bar.
Cynthia hadn’t noticed her robe had gaped open, but he had. She looked up at him and her lips were mere inches from his. That was just too much temptation.
Charles kissed her before he sat her down. Her robe slipped, revealing more of her shapely breast.
He must think I’m throwing myself at him over a simple kiss. She could feel the heat of her blush as she quickly covered herself. Caution thrown to the wind, Cynthia decided it was time to be honest, at least with herself. There was nothing simple about Charles, especially his kiss.
Charles pretended not to notice. Yeah, right. He would have to be blind not to notice the swell of her breast or the pert nipple playing hide-and-seek in the folds of his robe.
He was right about something else. Just like one beer wouldn’t do on a hot day, he wanted another taste of her. The first had only whetted his appetite.
The dinner was very simple, a couple of venison tenderloin steaks, baked potatoes, a garden salad and a glass of perfectly chilled wine. Cynthia thought it to be about the best meal she’d ever eaten.
“This steak is delicious, but it doesn’t taste like beef,” she said.
“That’s because it’s venison.” He watched her closely, wondering how she would respond. Some women had a thing about going out and killing little Bambi.
She raised an eyebrow and pointed toward the meat with a fork as if to say, “This?”
Charles nodded in affirmation.
“This doesn’t taste like any venison I have ever eaten,” surprise registering in her voice.
“That’s because it had a diet of corn, beans, alfalfa and sweet clover instead of sagebrush or pine trees.” Charles cut off a piece and held it out to her on his fork.
“Where did this come from?” she asked as she savored the tender bit.