His hand slid to the snap of her pants, and he hesitated. Raising his head, he listened for the sound he thought he had heard, a sound that did not blend with the others coming from outside.
Brandi slowly opened her eyes and gazed up at his flushed face. His profile was turned to her as he stared toward the front of the cabin. Gone was the lover. In his place was the instinctive animal, guarding its own.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"I'm not sure." He sat up.
Brandi hastily pulled her heavy sweater over her head, effectively covering her bare chest. Greg had tensed, ready to get to his feet, when Brandi heard something outside, as well. He moved swiftly into the kitchen on silent feet.
A sudden pounding started up at the door, and Brandi discovered that her heart was pounding erratically somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. Glancing around, she saw her bra and undershirt where Greg had tossed them earlier. She quickly gathered them up and stuffed them beneath the sofa cushion.
Brandi couldn't imagine who would be out on a night like this. Were they looking for her? What could she do? Where could she possibly hide? Then she relaxed slightly. Greg was there. He wouldn't let anyone harm her. She knew that with a certainty that needed no explanations.
She stood in front of the fireplace and watched as Greg walked over to the kitchen door and opened it.
When Greg saw the two snow-covered shapes standing on the deck, he stepped back and motioned them inside. They stumbled in. Whoever they were, the storm had gotten the best of them. Their ill-advised decision to be out had almost been the death of them.
They could barely move, and Greg began to pull their overcoats and gloves off. As soon as their coats were removed, he saw an insignia on one of their shoulders. They wore uniforms.
Glancing around at Brandi, he noted that she was still hovering by the fire. This was no accident, and he knew it. Something must have been very important for these two to have braved the elements. He only had a few minutes in which to decide how best to deal with the present situation.
"Not quite the night I would have chosen for a stroll, gentlemen," he said quietly, watching as the men sank down heavily on either side of the kitchen table.
"We got lost," one of the men finally said through wheezing breaths.
"I see." Greg saw a great deal more. They wore state police uniforms. These were not military men after all. He relaxed fractionally. "How about a cup of coffee? And you might find it warmer in by the fire."
"I need to thaw out a little before I get closer to any warmth," the other man said with a grimace. "My name is Pete Phillips and my partner is Jim Stanley. We're sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. — "
"Duncan. Gregory Duncan."
"Mr. Duncan. But believe me, seeing your light probably saved our lives."
The two men began to pull off their snow boots, then briskly rubbed their hands, trying to improve their circulation.
"What brought you men up into the mountains in weather like this?" Greg asked, placing a cup in front of each one.
After taking a welcome sip of coffee, Jim replied, "We got an urgent communication from Denver to be on the lookout for a dangerous suspect."
"Oh? And you thought he might be in this area?"
"She. We were told that she'd been traced to this area, yes."
Greg glanced across the counter that divided the main room from the kitchen and saw the apprehensive look on Brandi's face.
"Who are you looking for? And what has she done?"
"Her name is Brandi Martin. She's wanted for questioning. Once apprehended, she'll be returned to Denver."
"I see." Casually leaning against the counter, Greg said, "What does she look like?"
"We don't have much to go on at the moment—a description from a driver's license. Five-one, ninety-eight pounds, blue eyes, black hair. That could describe several people," Jim muttered. He glanced into the other room and saw Brandi standing in front of the fire. He froze.
"Oh, please forgive my lack of manners," Greg said, straightening, knowing that he was taking an irrevocable step. "This is my wife, Beth. We live in Payton, Missouri. We come here to ski whenever we can find the time." Greg reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and handed them a card.
Pete studied it carefully. "An attorney, are you?"
"That's right." Greg smiled.
"How long have you and your wife been here?"
He glanced over at Brandi. "I'm not sure. Are you, darling? Close to a week, I'd say." He shrugged. "I lose track of time when we're out like this. The days sort of run together.''
Brandi felt frozen into immobility. These men were actually out searching for her, determined to take her back with them.
Greg's glib explanation had sounded so natural. He had poured himself a cup of coffee and seemed to be interested in what they had to say, though not unduly so. His acting skills amazed her. She wasn't certain she was going to be able to handle herself as well.
"You must be hungry. How long have you been out?"
"Since noon, but we have provisions with us," Pete explained. "The thing is, we turned onto a back road and got stuck. We radioed for help and were told that the roads were closed up this way. They also said that we'd find a few homes up here that would be able to provide some shelter until morning." He shook his head. "I was beginning to wonder. We haven't seen anything."
"You were fortunate that you saw our light," Greg said quietly.
Jim nodded. "No one is worth risking our lives over."
Greg glanced out at the storm. "Well, you're safe now. We've only got the one bed, but there are extra sleeping bags, and I'm sure you'll be comfortable down here in front of the fire."
He walked into the other room and put his arm around Brandi's shoulders. "Why don't you go ahead and get ready for bed, love? I'll be up shortly, after I've made sure that Pete and Jim are made comfortable."
Brandi forced herself to smile up at him. "That's a good idea. I am rather tired."
He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "We'll probably find the storm over by morning and will be able to get in some more skiing."
Greg watched as Brandi disappeared into the bathroom.
"We really appreciate your hospitality, Mr. Duncan," Pete said, padding into the living room in his heavy socks.
"Call me Greg. There's no problem, officer. Glad we were able to help." He went to the closet that had been built under the stairs and pulled out two down-filled sleeping bags. "Hope these will be all right for you."
"At this point, I think I could sleep on a bed of nails," Jim admitted. "That walk really took it out of me.
By the time Brandi came out of the bathroom, the men were settled in front of the fire, chatting. She paused uncertainly. Greg glanced at her and smiled. "I'll be up in a while, darling. Good night."
"Good night," she murmured softly, then climbed the stairs.
Once again she and Greg were going to share the bed upstairs. It was beginning to be a habit. Brandi couldn't help but remember what their visitors had interrupted. She had been in a wonderfully sensuous sea of sensation. Their sudden arrival and intentions felt like a load of ice being dumped on her. She was still shaking from the transition.
She wasn't an actress. Brandi had no idea how long she could pretend that their visit was nothing out of the ordinary. One slip and all her running would have been in vain.
Brandi hated to contemplate what she would have done if Greg hadn't been there. Would she have gone with Tim? Surely he wouldn't have let her stay there alone, even though all of them had figured that she would be safe at the cabin.
What in the world had she seen that could create a statewide hunt for her? Her only hope lay in Tim's ability to get to the bottom of it as rapidly as possible.
In the meantime, the only other danger she faced was the fear that she had lost her heart to Greg Duncan. Unfortunately, Brandi recognized, it was too late to worry about that.
Brandi crawled into bed
and waited for Greg to come upstairs and join her.
Chapter 6
Greg felt as though he'd become two people in the past couple of hours—one who conversed with the two police officers and another who objectively monitored the scene. He was distantly aware of the fact that his heart was racing in his chest and that his adrenaline level had risen to unbelievable heights.
While the first part of him made sure his guests were comfortable, the other swiftly and inexorably catalogued the fact that for the first time in his adult life he had willfully and most deliberately stepped outside the law. He had lied to representatives of the very justice system that he had dedicated his life to supporting.
When he'd seen the possible threat to Brandi, he hadn't hesitated to protect her, regardless of the fact that in doing so he was compromising his integrity.
Of course, the whole thing was a mistake. Whatever she had stumbled into had political overtones, of that he was certain. She was no criminal. He was counting on the fact that if anyone could quickly get to the bottom of the situation, it was Tim. Brandi only had to wait for Tim to clear up the matter.
So why had Greg lied?
The answer astounded him. While inviting his guests to make themselves comfortable and bidding them good-night, Greg came face-to-face with the realization that in the space of two short days Brandi Martin had become more important to him than his own sense of right and wrong. The strong protective feelings sweeping over him were like nothing he'd ever felt before. But he recognized the strange feelings that had overcome him, changing his life.
He loved her.
He, Gregory Duncan, who took pride in the fact that he never made a decision without carefully analyzing all his options, had allowed his feelings to sweep away all thought of the possible consequences if these men discovered that he had lied to them and was at that very moment concealing the identity of a wanted suspect.
Given the same circumstances, he would do it again without hesitation.
Was this what love was all about—doing everything in his power to protect Brandi? Feeling the need to go to her side to hold her and reassure her that he would not allow anyone or anything to harm her?
What had happened to him in these few short days that he could ignore his training, his background, his way of life, in order to make sure that Brandi was all right? What mystical powers had transformed him in such a fashion?
As Greg said good-night to his guests and started up the stairway, he humbly and silently acknowledged a power he'd never been aware of—the power of love.
The overwhelming and astonishing power of love.
Acknowledging to himself how he felt about Brandi gave Greg a sense of freedom and joy that he'd never before experienced. He felt such a wealth of emotion wash over him that he wasn't sure he could contain his reaction. Yet he knew he must.
When he reached the loft area, Greg noted that Brandi had left on the bedside lamp for him. He also noted with a grin that she was lying as far on her side of the bed as she could get without falling off, with her back turned to him.
Without saying anything, he quickly shed his clothes and crawled beneath the covers to her side. Then he reached over and turned off the light, absorbing the silent darkness while he carefully sorted through his suddenly inadequate vocabulary to find the words to tell Brandi about his recent and amazing discovery.
"Brandi?" he said softly. "Are you awake?"
A slight glow of light from downstairs enabled him to watch her as she slowly rolled over onto her back, turning her head to look at him. The faint light revealed that she had been crying, and he felt a pang in the region of his heart.
"Did you really think I could drift off to sleep without a worry?" she asked in a low voice.
"They're nice guys. You don't have to worry about them."
"I'm sure they're nice enough, to the vacationing lawyer and his wife. I have a hunch their attitudes would change if they were to learn the truth."
"They won't," he said emphatically.
She noted the grim expression around his mouth and decided that she much preferred having Greg Duncan on her side. He would make a formidable adversary. No doubt there were many attorneys in the St. Louis and Payton areas who had discovered that fact.
"Try to get some rest," he said, studying her.
She smiled. "This is becoming a habit, sharing a bed with you."
Without returning her smile, he replied, "What would you think about the idea of making it permanent?"
Her eyes widened slightly. "Making what permanent?"
"Our sleeping together."
"I'm not at all sure that I understand what—"
"I want to marry you."
His calm statement did nothing to help her comprehend what was happening between them. She knew that they had both been under considerable tension these past few days, but she could think of nothing that had happened that would cause him to suddenly make such a statement.
"Greg, you can't be serious," she said, conscious of the need to keep her voice down. The one thing neither of them wanted was to be overheard discussing marriage by the men downstairs.
"I am."
"But you can't be. You don't know me. I don't know you. A few days together isn't enough time to make a decision of that importance."
"I'm well aware of all the logical reasons, Brandi. I'm telling you how I feel. I don't want you walking out of my life. I want to marry you. I want to take you back to Pay ton with me, I want to know that you're safe and protected from anything life might throw your way."
Brandi could not control the trembling that overtook her at his words. The thought had never occurred to her that Greg would offer her marriage. They were both wary of getting close to anyone—of that she was certain.
As far back as Brandi could remember, she had felt that she would never marry. She wasn't sure when she had first made up her mind about that. Perhaps when her father had died and she'd seen the devastation his loss had caused to her mother and, to a lesser degree, herself.
She felt as though she had learned a valuable lesson at a very young age—it was not healthy to be dependent on another person. Brandi had accepted that belief and learned to live with it, and that had helped her later to survive the loss of her mother.
She had learned to live alone, to take care of herself—most of the time, at least. Recent events had certainly caused her to question her ability to take care of herself.
For some reason she had thought that Greg understood and even agreed with her philosophy of life. He had seemed to be content with his solitary existence.
She placed her hand on his cheek and stroked it softly, enjoying the feel of his slightly rough skin. "That's very kind of you," she said quietly. "But it isn't necessary. And it certainly isn't wise."
Her loving touch and soft tones were in contradiction to her words, and Greg stared at her in bewilderment.
"I didn't propose because I was being kind, Brandi," he pointed out dryly. "I proposed because I love you and want to marry you."
"Not really," she contradicted in a reasonable tone of voice. "You're feeling this way because we've been alone together here. Once you return home you'll wonder what you ever saw in me.''
Greg could feel his irritation at her matter-of-fact explanation of his feelings. "Brandi, I'm old enough to know myself, what I want, and how I feel. I love you. I want to marry you." As if to prove a point, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
His kiss was filled with a possessive fervor, as though he were determined to prove to her that his feelings were authentic.
Brandi discovered that no matter how logically she viewed their situation, as soon as Gregory began to kiss her, all thoughts flew out the window. The only thing she was aware of was how he made her feel.
Greg knew by her response to him that she was far from indifferent to him. Why didn't she know that? How could she possibly ignore what they experienced together? Every time he touched her, spontaneous combusti
on occurred.
Didn't that count for something?
He pulled away slightly and gazed down at her. "I want you to marry me," he said fiercely in a low voice.
"No."
"You can't mean that."
"Take my word for it. I mean it."
"Do you realize that if I wanted to I could make love to you right this minute?"
"Isn't that what you've been doing?"
"Honey, I haven't begun to show you what I intend to do when we make love."
"Just for the record, counselor, I'd like to point out that the evidence shows I am putting up absolutely no struggle. There's been no force used in this seduction."
He jerked away from her and sat up in bed, running his hand through his hair. "Damn it, Brandi. You're making fun of me. And I've never been more serious in my life."
She obligingly sat up beside him and said, "I believe that's one of the problems here. You take everything seriously, Greg. Where's your sense of humor?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Well, here we are having a debate—whispering, of course, so those two downstairs won't discover that I'm the woman they're searching for—on the possible merits of a marriage that you've already told them took place."
"You find that humorous?"
"I'd rather laugh about it than cry."
Greg realized that Brandi was unaware that he'd seen her slightly swollen eyes and tearstained cheeks when he'd first come to bed. Obviously she wasn't going to admit to giving in to tears. She wasn't even going to admit that she needed him—or anybody else, with the exception of Tim.
He should feel ashamed of himself for taking advantage of the situation. He should; but he didn't.
"Brandi, we both know that eventually we'll get to the bottom of whatever's going on in the hills near your home. As soon as Tim comes back he'll know what actions will be the most sensible for you to take. I'm not trying to rescue you, for God's sake. I want to marry you."
She was quiet for several minutes. "I really believe that you believe that statement."
2. Come Be My Love Page 7