by AJ Quinn
In that moment, Dana had decided it was time to reclaim her life.
Finding herself at a crossroads, she’d left Boston and accepted a position at a hospital whose claim to fame was having the busiest emergency department and level one trauma center in New York City.
A very tough place by anyone’s standards. But she had learned and thrived in that chaotic environment where no one cared she was Davis Kingston’s daughter. It had also afforded her the time to learn more about herself and to decide what path she wanted to follow. And the path she’d chosen had led her here.
She allowed herself only another minute or two to dwell on the past before the pragmatic side of her nature took over, stilling her riotous emotions. Releasing a sigh of resignation, she reached for her cell phone. If nothing else, common courtesy dictated she call the woman she was scheduled to meet in Haven, where she would start her new life.
Annie Parker.
She’d met Annie three months earlier—a meeting arranged by a neighbor who also happened to be a headhunter. Annie had arranged to fly into New York and, over coffee, had told Dana about the position she was looking to fill.
What she offered was exciting—a chance to be part of setting up a combination medical clinic and emergency triage center from the ground up. The center would be part of a mountain search-and-rescue training center, high in the Colorado Rockies. It would also provide basic health care and medical services to the people living in the region. As the medical team lead, she would have final say on staffing the center. And if everything worked out, the offer included an opportunity after six months to become a partner.
Coffee had stretched into lunch. And then into dinner.
Search and rescue alone doesn’t pay the bills, Annie had said. That’s where the idea for the school originally came from.
She went on to explain that since its inception, the school had grown beyond their original vision, becoming one of the highest ranked search-and-rescue training centers in North America. The plan to add the triage center had been fully endorsed by the communities the SAR operation served and would only enhance their success rate.
By the time they’d finished talking, Dana and Annie had both known she’d be moving to Colorado as soon as her contract with the hospital ended.
Now she would have to apologize to Annie and tell her she’d be arriving a little later than planned. She’d explain what the problem was. And then she would beg, if necessary, in the hope Annie could find someone to come to her aid.
Not the most auspicious of beginnings. But it couldn’t be helped. It was an accident, a temporary setback, and nothing more.
That was when she discovered she had no cell signal. She’d no doubt lost it sometime back, when she left the interstate and headed farther up into the mountains. No doubt there was a rational explanation like the snow-laden trees were too tall or the surrounding mountains too steep. Or maybe the storm had defeated local service. It didn’t really matter.
Staring once again at the cast covering her hand, she quietly released a string of words that were half expletive, half prayer. She knew it would be all but impossible for her to manage to change a tire. The best she could do was hope someone would come along before too long—not that she’d passed anyone in the last couple of hours on this lonely stretch of road.
On the plus side, she had a near-full tank of gas, a couple of apples, some trail mix, and a box of crackers in her backpack. She’d be able to keep warm and wouldn’t go hungry. On the downside, she could already feel the onset of a headache from caffeine withdrawal. Where was a Starbucks when you needed one?
Dana restarted the car and turned on both the headlights and emergency flashers in case someone came along the narrow road. Hopefully they’d see her in spite of the snow. For the moment, there was nothing else she could do, so she settled her head back, allowing her thoughts to drift while the radio provided a blur of background noise.
Maybe if she counted to ten she wouldn’t be here anymore, in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire. Right. Or maybe if she clicked her heels three times, she’d open her eyes and find she was really in Oz with the Tin Man and the Scarecrow. Or maybe she’d find—
A sharp tapping on the car window drew her attention, startling her. Disoriented for a moment, she had no idea if she’d just been musing the time away or had actually fallen asleep.
“Are you all right? Do you need help?”
The low smoke-edged voice had her turning her head to look, but she couldn’t make out her rescuer through the frost- and snow-covered glass. Almost giddy with relief, she lowered her window and immediately got a face full of brutally cold, wet snow.
A wry groan escaped Dana as she attempted to clear the snow from her face. She was also fairly certain the next sound she heard—coming from the direction of her would-be rescuer—was low and amused.
Aware she was the source of this stranger’s amusement, Dana found herself even more curious to identify who had come to her rescue. She blinked several times, bringing a blurred image into focus, only to get lost in the vision looming above her.
A vision with windblown hair the color of a moonless night sky, Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses, and a snow-dampened face. Make that an exquisite snow-dampened face. Lean and sharp angled, with a slight teasing smile on a mouth that invited trouble and just a hint of a dimple showing on one cheek.
Dana stared. She couldn’t help herself. And then she shivered as snow unexpectedly slipped inside the collar of her sweater. But the shock of it, cold and wet against her skin, at least assured her she wasn’t dreaming.
“Do you need help?” the vision repeated, her low voice wrapped around a laugh, her breath frosty in the air. “Are you stuck?”
Nice smile, seeming sincerity. Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, Dana found her voice. “Stuck? I’m afraid it’s worse than that. I’m supposed to meet someone in Haven, my front tire’s blown, and as you can see”—she waggled her cast—“I’m at a bit of a disadvantage.”
*
“Yes, I can see that.” Kellen barely contained a smile. “Other than that cast, did you hurt yourself in any way? Did you bang your head or twist anything?”
“No. I promise. Nothing at all. A caffeine withdrawal headache is about the worst of it.”
Kellen chewed on her lower lip and tried not to laugh. “Sorry to hear that, but first things first. Do you have a spare? And by chance, is it a real tire, or is it one of those wretched space savers?”
Her words drew the woman closer to the window, allowing Kellen to see her more clearly. Fair hair pulled back in a simple ponytail emphasized the structure of her face, feminine and flawless. She had slashing cheekbones, a dusting of freckles, and a distractingly nice smile. And her eyes—a warm, espresso brown—sparked with humor.
“Yes, I’ve a spare in the trunk. And it happens to be a real tire. I made sure of that before I hit the road.”
“Good thinking, because quite frankly, trying to drive on anything less in these conditions would be quite dangerous, and you don’t look particularly crazy.”
“I’m not. At least I don’t think so.”
“Good to know.” Kellen knew from experience the storm would get worse before it was done and, with little time to spare, she quickly cobbled a plan together. “Okay, here’s what I’d like to suggest. Let’s get you out of your car and into my Jeep. That way, you can stay warm and dry while I deal with your tire. In spite of the conditions, it shouldn’t take me all that long and I can have you on your way before you know it.”
The smile faded, which was really too bad, in Kellen’s opinion. In its place, she saw an expression she couldn’t quite read. But she could hazard a guess. “I’m not a maniac,” she assured the woman mildly even though, to the best of her recollection, no one had ever viewed her as strictly harmless.
“Oh, it’s not that,” was the quick response. “Okay, maybe it’s a little that. But it’s also…can’t I just stay here and
try to help you? I may not be able to do much, not physically, but the least I can do is keep you company. It seems only fair since it’s my tire that’s flat.”
Snowflakes scattered as Kellen shook her head. “I appreciate the thought.” She added a smile for emphasis. “But it’s really not necessary and there’s no point in both of us being cold and wet. So why don’t you grab your coat and let’s get you settled in my Jeep. I promise I’ll change your tire as quickly as I can. And if you need an added incentive, I’ve got a thermos of really good coffee in the Jeep.”
The brief change in her expression indicated the woman was still prepared to argue, but at that moment a shiver visibly ran through her. In the next instant, she shrugged into her jacket, opened the door, and denim-covered legs came into view as she stepped out of her car.
That they were nearly the same height came as no surprise. Kellen had already noted legs that went on forever and filled the faded denim to perfection. What did come as a surprise was the fact that she’d noticed.
What the hell was that?
The direction her thoughts had just taken—well, it had been a long time, a very long time, since she’d noticed much of anything.
Annie would be thrilled, she mused, assuming she told her about this. Annie had all but given up on her. Had told her on a number of occasions to stop brooding and get back into the game—only more bluntly.
The bastard that hurt you didn’t kill you, but you’ve withdrawn so much he might as well have.
Kellen didn’t take offense at the harsh-sounding words. That was simply Annie’s approach. Blunt and direct if she felt it was called for.
As with most things in life, Kellen knew it would happen when it happened. Without any pushing and prodding from others, no matter how well-intentioned or caring the friend might be. But who knew her first sign of interest in anything beyond work in over a year would come on a snow-covered road in the middle of nowhere? Let alone with a complete stranger.
When the woman slipped and almost went down on one knee, Kellen quickly reached for her. “Keep this up and I’m going to think you’re accident-prone.”
“And I’ll think you’re the proverbial Good Samaritan. The white knight going from place to place rescuing damsels in distress.” She smiled, possibly trying to ease any sting in her words. “Chances are we’d both be wrong.”
“Not entirely,” Kellen said softly, surprising herself with her candor. “But that’s a discussion best left for another place and time. Right now there are more pressing concerns, like getting your tire changed before the weather gets any worse. More to the point, I’m quite used to this weather, these conditions, while at a guess you’re a little out of your element. So please. Let me do what needs to be done.”
Their gazes locked as they studied each other. An intense, prolonged stare with neither seemingly prepared to give way. But then surprisingly, Kellen saw acquiescence.
“I’d argue with you, but I don’t think it would do any good. More to the point, it would be foolish, since all you’re doing is trying to help me.”
There was no further argument. Just simple acceptance of the arm Kellen had offered.
Kellen felt her arm gripped by a strong hand. She nodded and a half-smile fleetingly touched her mouth as they began to move, with only the snow and ice crunching under their feet to mark their progress.
Just before they reached the bright green Jeep, Kellen hesitated. “I guess I should have asked before now…um, you don’t have any problem with dogs, do you? Are you afraid or allergic or anything?”
“Dogs?” The smile was back, albeit a bit confused. “No. I like dogs just fine and they usually like me. No allergies. No childhood trauma, or at least none that I can recall.”
“Good to know,” Kellen said. “That means you should have no problem with the troublemaker you’ll find in the backseat. He’s a fair size and may look fierce, but trust me, it’s all an act. He’s really quite friendly. He’s just a little put out because I got to go out in the snow—which he happens to love—and I left him behind.”
As soon as Kellen opened the passenger door to her Jeep, a large dark head emerged from the dim interior and the German shepherd’s big body wiggled with delight at her return. But then, almost immediately, a low warning growl began humming deep in the dog’s throat.
“Bogart, no.” Kellen spoke firmly. “Friend.”
“Dana,” the woman said. When Kellen turned toward her, she continued. “It’s my name. Dana. Just thought it might make the introductions easier.”
“Sorry, Dana. I seem to have forgotten my manners. I’m Kellen and this is Bogart.” Turning back to the dog, she spoke softly once again. “Bogart, this is Dana. She’s a friend.”
Bogart’s intelligent eyes looked at Kellen. Quivering like an overstrung bow and watching her avidly, he drew his head closer and tentatively nudged Dana’s palm with his nose as he sniffed her hand.
“Bogart—”
The dog promptly offered a massive paw to a clearly delighted Dana. “Hello, Bogart. I’ve never seen a long-haired shepherd before. Lord, you’re just beautiful, aren’t you?” Dana’s comment was accompanied by a still-cautious head scratch.
Bogart’s tail twitched enthusiastically.
“Now you’ve done it.”
Dana froze in the process of stroking Bogart and looked up nervously. “What? What did I do?”
“Sorry, it’s just that Bogart’s a great dog and he generally loves everyone.” Laughter threaded Kellen’s voice. “But he’s also got an ego the size of these mountains and you just told him he was beautiful. So you’ve probably just made a friend for life.”
“Oh. Is that all?” Dana visibly relaxed and resumed rubbing Bogart’s ear. “I think I can live with that.”
Although she trusted Bogart implicitly, he was still young and Kellen knew he could be overenthusiastic and bowl over the unwary at times. So she remained close, standing by while Dana got into the front passenger seat, and making sure she was truly comfortable with the dog, who had thrust his head between the two front seats and was awaiting another rub.
Kellen grinned, lightning fast. “The coffee I promised is in that thermos,” she said. “Help yourself. Cream and sugar’s in the glove box. And if for any reason you want me—”
“I’ll just whistle…” Color immediately washed Dana’s cheeks as she no doubt realized what she’d said. “Oh God.”
Kellen grinned. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay—”
“No, it’s not. I can’t believe I just said that to a near-perfect stranger, let alone the woman who’s been kind enough to save me from spending the rest of the day stuck on the side of a mountain.”
“Wow, you think I’m near perfect?” Kellen teased Dana gently and brushed off her apology with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry about it. And it just so happens, Bogart and I really like Bacall,” she added, before closing the door and heading back through the deepening snow to the BMW.
Chapter Two
The Jeep, insulated by the blanket of snow that was still falling, cocooned Dana in a warm embrace, shutting out everything except the faint sound of the wind. She blew warm air on her hands and made herself comfortable, then reached for the large thermos Kellen had indicated and gratefully poured a cup. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee that immediately filled the passenger compartment was mouthwatering.
Cradling the cup, watching wisps of steam curl upward, Dana inhaled the fragrant scent one more time before taking a sip. Her eyes closed in sheer delight as she savored the taste—a delicious mocha laced with dark chocolate. Sheer heaven, she thought, and sat back to enjoy every last drop.
True to her word, it didn’t take Kellen long to change the flat tire. Even so, Dana felt a profound rush of relief when a chill blast of wind announced Kellen’s return. Her gaze rested on Kellen’s face, flushed from the cold, while dark hair fell across her forehead, wet and tangled and untamed. “Damn, you look half-frozen.”
“No
t really. Actually, I don’t mind this weather.” Kellen paused, removed her sunglasses, and slipped out of her wet sweater, leaving her in a navy long-sleeved T-shirt. “I feel better already.”
Blue. Her eyes were a brilliant blue.
Dana felt an unexpected shot of lust whisper along her nerves as she absorbed all the details—the dark flecks swimming in a sea of blue, the thick dark lashes—and found herself captivated by the tiny laugh lines before the sunglasses slipped back into place. Damn, she really was stunning.
She reigned in a libido she’d thought had gone permanently dormant, cleared her throat, and forced herself to speak. “Can I do anything to help? Maybe pour you some coffee?”
“Actually, I’m good. All I need is a minute or two so I can get some feeling back in my fingers, then I’ll pull up as close to your car as I can get. Once you’re ready to go, just signal and I’ll head out in front of you. Bogart and I know these roads like the back of my hand, so you just need to stay close and follow my lead. And if you get nervous or have any problems, all you have to do is flash your lights. I’ll pull over immediately. Okay?”
“You don’t have to, but I really do appreciate it.”
A few minutes later, Dana was once again ensconced in her BMW, following the taillights on Kellen’s Jeep. Somehow it made the remainder of the trip much more reassuring, the blowing snow and the winding road less terrifying, and the time flew by.
Perhaps that was why it came as a surprise when Kellen signaled and pulled over as they crested yet another hill. Curious, Dana watched her let Bogart out of the Jeep and figured she probably wanted to let the dog stretch his legs and burn some of his boundless energy after being confined in the Jeep for so long. But as she slowly looked around, she realized what was happening. Kellen was simply giving her time to absorb the view.
It was an impressive sight. Releasing a sigh of gratitude and appreciation for her continued thoughtfulness, Dana leaned back in her seat and tried to take it all in.