by Cherry Adair
Like a fish wriggling at the end of a hook, she tried, "Sean—" It was halfhearted at best. But she gave it a shot.
"Is dead." Derek cupped her head in his large hands so she couldn't look away. "I'm not. Get used to the difference. Get very used to my mouth on you. And my hands. Hell—start giving some serious thought to what it's going to be like when we're both naked."
Lily's heart did a dip and roll. "God. You're amazing. You say you want me as if that gives you entree to having me. Okay. You want me. For how long?"
"What are you expecting me to say? 'For as long as it takes us to tire of one another'?"
"That would be the honest answer, yes."
"But it isn't the answer I'd give you."
"Isn't it? What's the longest relationship you've ever had with a woman?"
"That has noth—"
"A month? Two months?"
"I was in love with one woman for four years."
"Really? And still no commitment?" She tsked. "I rest my case. I don't do temporary, and I'm not interested in permanent. Fortunately for both of us, even though Sean is gone, I still consider myself married to him, so get it into your head that I still love my husband, and leave me alone."
Oh, Lord. She was going to go to hell for lying like this. But it was better than leaving an opening for Derek to sneak into her heart. She wondered if she had really ever loved Sean. Sadly, she didn't believe Sean had ever really loved her. His best friend had wanted her, and Sean had moved in and snatched her up from under Derek's nose like a prize at the fair.
More fool her for believing his lies. He'd been a sucky husband. The least he could do in abstentia was let her use him as a shield against Derek.
Sean was probably sitting in that hot place laughing his vain head off at this turn of events, Lily thought a little desperately.
Derek bent his head and brushed his mouth over hers again. This time in a light kiss. It should have been unthreatening, but it wasn't. He gave her an assessing look as he stepped back from her. "Keep telling yourself that bullshit, Lily, if it makes you feel better. You're too smart to be pining over a memory—a not-so-great memory at that. One of these days you're going to have to face the reality of the chemistry between us.
"When Sean was alive I did the honorable thing and stepped aside. When Sean was sick and dying, I did the honorable thing and gave you space to cope with what was happening. Well, Sean's gone now and as far as I'm concerned, honorable is pretty much out the door."
"The door isn't open for you, however."
He shook his head ruefully. "Stubbornness is one of your more annoying traits."
Just because he appeared to be capable of reading her mind, Lily thought, didn't mean he really could. She hoped. "Really? I consider it one of my best assets."
He laughed, and touched her cheek briefly before saying with real amusement, "You would. Right, let's get the hell out of Dodge before the mountain does a nosedive again."
As soon as she was able, she stepped out of his hold. He wanted to grab her up and squeeze her until she begged for mercy. He wanted to wrap her in cotton batting and keep her safe.
He wanted—
Hell.
He wanted.
Nine
The fucking woman had ten lives.
What the hell was he supposed to do? Go up to her, tell the stupid bitch to stand still, then shoot her point-blank between the fucking eyes? How would that look like a goddamn accident?
He'd told them, told them, that one little stick of dynamite wasn't going to do anything but make a little bang. But they hadn't wanted an avalanche big enough to bury Alaska. Just big enough to take out the bitch. Who would have guessed she'd be lucky enough to survive going over a fucking cliff?
A man could only work with the tools he was given. One fucking stick of dynamite? He needed to bring down half the fucking mountain to kill her.
Fuck, he thought, scratching at the hives on his neck, they were going to be pissed. He was pissed. Not to mention sick to fucking death of this unrelenting fucking cold. Hell wasn't hot. Hell was fucking icicles. Hell was snow, miles and miles of snow and frozen feet and a running nose and knives of ice scratching your lungs with every fucking breath. And he wanted the hell out. Except he couldn't get out until the bitch was dead.
To make matters worse, there was some other dude skulking around again. He'd caught a glimpse of him this morning up on the ridge. Not part of the Iditarod madness. The guy wasn't even making a pretext of pretending to blend in. He looked like a goddamn albino ninja. Dressed completely in white and tooling around in some high-powered and eerily quiet ski mobile the likes of which he'd never seen before. The thing was like a ghost zooming in and out of the trees, just out of his line of vision. But he knew the guy was out there.
Watching. Waiting.
Had they sent someone else to do what they figured he couldn't do? He'd take care of this dickhead just like he'd taken care of Croft. Fuck. Had they brought in an outsider?
It was important that Lily die before she could make any more inquiries about the bull cum. He was dreading having to report in at the next stop that not only was the bitch still breathing, but she and macho man had been sucking face out there on the trail. Everyone had liked it just fine when the two of them were barely talking. Now?
Would they want him to off Wright as well?
Fuck shit damn. It was hard enough to kill one person, let alone two. And Wright didn't look like he'd die quick and easy. Not that Lily was a Cakewalk either. The annoying bitch from hell.
Never should have taken this damn job. Honor schmoner. Hadn't wanted to do it, and sure as shit didn't want to be here now. Unfortunately, there'd been no saying no. Not to the suits. They wielded kick-ass power, and could and would make his life a living hell if he didn't come through.
If they'd sent the white ninja in to do his job, then he might as well kiss his own sweet ass good-bye. He was dead meat.
He shot a nervous glance over his shoulder.
Nothing there but trees and snow.
But suddenly he felt as though he had a fucking bull's-eye painted on his back in neon.
He smelled the stink of his own fear-sweat and he wanted to puke.
They traveled several hours in relative silence, the kiss they'd shared an unmentioned elephant in the middle of the room.
Derek hadn't been flirting.
God, Lily thought, that was even scarier than falling off the side of the mountain. Derek always flirted. It was in his DNA to flirt. He did it with devastating effect, too. If it were an Olympic event, Derek Wright would have the gold. And knowing that, she'd found it relatively easy to ignore the looks and innuendos for the past few weeks.
Relatively. God only knew, she wasn't going to let him know just how affected she really was.
But he hadn't been playing games up on that cliff. Not this time. The look in his dark eyes had riveted her in place. He'd been dead serious. There hadn't been a glimmer of amusement there. He wanted her, that look had said, and nothing and nobody would stand in his way. And then, in case she hadn't got the message loud and clear, he'd said the words out loud. And taken the relationship to a whole new level.
I want you.
Flat out. No frills. Unequivocal.
I. Want. You.
She'd felt as though a guided missile had locked onto her, and was prepared to shatter her into tiny atoms when she least expected it if she didn't surrender. And Lily knew, God help her, that throwing Sean up to Derek every time he got close wasn't going to be a deterrent for much longer. The thought made her heart race and her palms sweat with equal parts fear and anticipation.
Still shaken by just how close she'd been to death, receiving that soul-shattering kiss had rocked her to her toes. Now, Lily had to force herself to focus and concentrate, which was proving more dif-ficult than she'd thought possible. Usually from race start to race finish, she kept her mind clear of everything and anything not pertaining to the trail ahead and
the welfare of her dogs.
Derek had been in the race before. She'd barely noticed. He'd been no more to her then than a fly in the ointment. A minor annoyance.
But this year was different.
Now he was a major distraction.
Damn it.
Using the brake often, and spending a lot of time balancing up on her runners, Lily forced herself to concentrate and get to the next checkpoint as fast as possible. Forget about the kiss, she told herself firmly. Forget all about it and the power behind it. Forget about the man and his strong arms and broad chest and hard—Oh yeah. Scolding herself had only made the memory more vivid. Good job forgetting.
"Tell me how you and Sean met," she said into the lip mic, keeping her tone cool and casual with effort. Good idea. Talk about Sean. She wondered if she'd be struck by lightning for using her dead husband as the proverbial bucket of cold water.
"You know how we met," he said flatly in her ear.
"Sean's version." Which knowing what she did now was probably as much BS as everything else he'd told her. Lily didn't give a damn how the two most annoying men in her life had met. Lightning or avalanche. She wanted to put the memory of Sean the husband between her and Derek. Unfortunately it was starting to feel like a piece of flimsy cellophane between herself and a wild tiger, as opposed to the nice comfortable shield it had been before the start of the race.
When had the balance of power shifted?
"Why do you care how we met?"
"Hey, it's conversation, okay?" She bit her lip. More lies. It wasn't just chitchat. It was holding Sean up and waving him at Derek to remind him that she wasn't available. She hoped to hell he believed that more than she did.
"Right," his voice grumbled in her ear. "You want to talk. When I'm far enough away for you to feel safe?"
"Hah!" she scoffed. You betcha, Bubba! "The words safe and Derek Wright don't belong in the same sentence."
He hummed, low and throaty in her ear, and she felt the vibration pulsing through every blasted cell in her body like a warm caress. Dangerous, dangerous man.
"I think I like that," he said softly.
"You would," Lily countered. She wished Derek had stayed in Montana as she'd asked him to. Then she wouldn't be traveling along this dangerous trail wondering about the ramifications of kissing the infuriating man, the equivalent of giving an inch, when she should have 100 percent of her concentration on what she was doing.
Of course if he hadn't been nearby she'd probably be dead now. Lily shivered at just how close she'd been. Twice. A cold chill snaked along her spine and it had nothing to do with the snow drifting silently through the air on gusts of wind. Derek had turned into some sort of strong, completely too attractive guardian angel. And she wasn't entirely sure what to think about that. A more unlikely angel would be hard to find.
"If you don't want to talk, I'll listen to my music. Are you going to tell me how you two met or not?" she said, more to break the disturbing electronic silence than anything else. Music, of course, would be a hell of a lot safer. Since when, Lily wondered, had she decided to live a little dangerously?
"Yeah. I'll tell you," he said, his voice suddenly soft and lethal. "Ask me whatever the hell you want about Sean and our relationship. Ask now, or forever hold your peace. Because, God help you, Lily, this will be the last damn time I'll discuss a dead man with you."
Her hands tightened on the handlebars. "The fact that you don't want to talk about him doesn't make Sean disappear." This was like poking a tiger through the bars with a sharp stick, Lily thought, unable to stop herself and not knowing why.
"How long are you going to let the memory of your dead husband dictate your life?" Derek asked in a hard voice. "There's respect for someone's memory and then there's using a tragic event to justify putting your own life on indefinite pause. Any idea when you'll be giving yourself permission to enjoy life again?"
"I enjoy my life just fine, thank you," she told him with every ounce of conviction she could muster.
"You work."
"I love my job."
"There's more to life than working." The nerve-wracking silence stretched out again.
Lily could see her shield crumble right before her very eyes, but she mentally held on to it with a tight-fisted grip. "Sean's only been dead six months. Hardly a lengthy mourning period by anyone's standards."
"Your marriage was over long before Sean died."
You have no idea, Lily thought, getting a panicky feeling in the pit of her stomach as her safety shield cracked even further. Did Derek know that she and Sean hadn't had a physical relationship after the honeymoon? She sure as hell hoped not. He'd be like a bloodhound for sure.
God. She hadn't had sex in more than three years. That was probably why Derek's kisses affected her so deeply. Lack of nookie could do that to a girl, Lily decided. She stared at the unending vista of snow and trees that stretched out on either side of her for miles and miles. Lonely. Cold. Barren.
Much like her life right now, she thought, feeling restless and alone. It would be so easy, so very, very easy, to fall into Derek's arms and take what he wanted to give her. No matter how little, or for how short a period of time. But Lily knew she'd be worse off after than she was now.
Just because she didn't know what she wanted to be when she grew up didn't mean she could or should use Derek as a stop-gap measure now.
Changes had to be made in her life. She knew that.
But putting her hand into the flame to assure herself it was really as hot as she'd been told would be beyond stupid.
"Fine. We'll play it your way one more time." He inhaled sharply and blew the air out in a rush and Lily could have sworn she felt that hot breath brush against her ear.
"I have another ranch in Texas." He spoke softly, intimately, as if they were sitting across from each other at a candlelit table. She could almost see the wavering flames dancing in his dark eyes. She could hear the sigh of his breath and almost convinced herself she could smell his cologne on the icy air.
Lily's fingers tightened on her handlebars as her sled tilted and then bounced down onto both runners as she lost concentration again and just… felt. Focus, Lily Marie. Focus. He'd dropped back a little, but she felt him there, protecting her back, watching out for her. Keeping her safe. It was a strange, unfamiliar sensation. She didn't want to like it this much. Damn him.
"Sean's father—"
"Tossed him out on his ear and disinherited him," Lily inserted, fighting to maintain control. "I know that part of it."
"He'd had ranching experience. I hired him as a hand. Worked for me off and on for a number of years. Then he heard of his father's death, and that the ranch was being sold off by the bank. He asked if I'd be interested. I was."
"Why?"
"Why not?" he asked mildly. As if everyone could afford two multimillion-dollar ranches in two different states. Why not indeed? "I was interested in expanding my breeding program with the Red Brangus," he continued easily. "Montana was as good a place as any."
Lily remembered Sean's father, Vern Munroe. A more cantankerous, judgmental, unforgiving man she'd never met. He'd regaled anyone who'd listen about his no-good, ne'er-do-well son. The details of just why father and son had never seen eye to eye had been lost in translation. Sean's mother had disappeared after going out to buy cigarettes when he'd been a teenager. The last anyone had heard, she'd gone off to Hollywood to break into movies. She'd never been heard from again.
Lily'd heard the stories for years, and vaguely remembered Sean from grade school. But she'd gone on to boarding school in San Francisco, while Sean had gone to high school in Billings. By the time she got back home after graduating from Texas A & M, he and his father had had their falling-out and he was gone.
Lily had found him amusing, charming and open when they'd first met. Sean wasn't nearly as smooth and sophisticated as Derek was; she'd loved that about him. He was still a small-town boy. A small-town boy who'd made good. When she ta
lked, he listened with his undivided attention, watching her features, paying attention. He remembered things she'd told him. And God help her, she'd been flattered and dizzy with delight. He was her Prince Charming. Good-looking and clearly mad about her. He spoiled her with small gifts and bushels of flowers. He held her hand at the movies, and never pressed her to give anything she wasn't ready to give him.
Lily thought afterward that the reason Sean Munroe had married her was because she wouldn't sleep with him before he put a ring on her finger.
In retrospect, holding on to her virginity had been a damn stupid thing to do. She should have slept with Sean and got it out of both their systems. The relationship would probably have lasted five minutes.
In the beginning, when they'd first started dating, she'd used the loss of his mother and the estrangement from his father as excuses for his bad behavior.
Unfortunately, he'd never done anything to move forward and get on with his own life. Everything he said and did was always someone else's fault. He'd been "born under an unlucky star." He'd had "bad breaks." And, starting with his parents, people were out to screw him.
She should have paid attention to the signals. She hadn't been used to dealing with that kind of negativity and instead of running for the hills, she'd tried to fix him. The only thing wrong with that theory was, Sean hadn't wanted to be fixed. Sean liked being a victim. It was comfortable for him and a role he'd perfected over long, agonizing years of practice.
Sean never took responsibility for his own actions. His father had hated him. His mother had walked out. Derek hadn't pulled his weight, and Lily wasn't supportive. It had gone on and on, until Lily had turned a deaf ear.
The town of Munroe—if a gas station, a Piggly Wiggly and the Methodist church could be called a town—had been named after Vern's grandfather. The ranch, started in the early fifties, was the largest in the area, and when Vern's health had started fading and he'd gone off to Billings to the rest home, a lot of people had been put out of work.