He shrugged, dipping into the oatmeal. “You’re a tenderfoot. I keep forgetting that because you’re taking to hiking so naturally.’’ He gave her an intense, searching look. “You have stamina, Libby, and I tend to take advantage of people who possess that trait. Yesterday’s accident shouldn’t have happened. I should have been at your side instead of assuming you could get across that difficult area.”
“Thanks for the backhanded compliment,” she murmured. “And you’re right—I love hiking. No one’s more surprised than I am.” She gave him a careless grin, which he returned.
“You have a headache this morning?”
“No. It’s just a little tender,” she responded. A new bond had been built between them, and Libby wasn’t sure when it had happened or why. “Thanks for babysitting me. I feel more than a little embarrassed over my performance last night.”
Dan got to his feet and scraped a second helping of oatmeal into his bowl. He sat down again, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. “I’ve known enough women to know the difference between a performance and actual fear,” he drawled. “And that wasn’t a performance.”
Libby blushed. “I feel like a child out here sometimes, Dan,” she admitted softly. “The wilderness is so vast and rugged. I feel lost in it.” She lifted her eyes, meeting his azure gaze. “And in some respects I feel like a child around you because I know so little about hiking and camping. My reaction last night totally frightened me.” She managed a broken smile. “There are no snakes in San Francisco.”
Dan grinned. “It’s a good thing, lady, or you’d be in my arms every night as a consequence. Not that that’s a bad idea.... I rather enjoyed it myself. Do you realize you snore?”
Libby straightened up. “What?”
He laughed. “I’m only teasing. You’re a soft, warm kitten, Lib. Come on, quit looking so devastated and vulnerable. Let’s pack and get going—we’ve got some tough climbing to do today.”
She considered his candid words as she gathered up her things. They sent a shaft of pleasure through her and she found herself smiling. She was determined to be a better hiker that day. If she wanted Dan’s cooperation on this project, she would have to extend herself and earn his respect. It would be the only way that she could effectively deal with him and make the project a success for everyone involved.
They worked their way down through a narrow valley filled with knee-high grass and flowers, moving up toward the timberline into a vast rocky region. Sweat was trickling freely down her temples when Dan called a halt at noon. The sun was hot, the wind brisk and the sky an intense cerulean blue, matching the color of Dan’s eyes. Libby took the red bandana off her forehead, wiping her face and neck, her gaze sweeping across the ridgeline towering above them. A smile pulled at her lips and she rested her hands against her hips, feeling the exhilaration of challenging the mountain.
The wind playfully blew strands of her golden hair against her face and she pulled them away. Dan stood above her, watching her with renewed intensity. He motioned toward the incline.
“If I didn’t know better I’d think you’re excited about climbing this mountain.”
She laughed, meeting his curious expression. “You’re right, I am.” Shrugging, she admitted, “Right now I feel like I’m on top of the world and can conquer anything. Does that sound like a typical tenderfoot statement?”
Dan returned her smile, leaning over and capturing her hand. “Come on, lady, let’s use the shade of this poor old spruce over here and eat lunch before we go on.”
A new excitement surged within her as she ate the trail mix in silence. Libby was beginning to understand Dan’s love for the mountains and the forest that spread out below them like a velvet green cape. It was her third day and she realized that her body was adjusting beautifully to the high altitude and responding to the demanding exercise. Looking at her arms, she realized that she had become tan. Her fingernails, once long, had been broken or chipped. Digging in her pack, she decided to cut all the rest and get it over with.
Dan was lying against his pack, his eyes half closed.
“You like it out here, don’t you?”
Libby looked up. “Does it surprise you—a city girl suddenly turning country?”
“A little.”
She grinned. “A lot, I think.”
“You’re looking good. Usually by the third day a tenderfoot is either giving up or shifting into high gear and getting the feel for it. Looks like you’ve surpassed even me. I can see the excitement in your eyes, Libby. I never realized until just now how clear your emotions are in your eyes and face.” He gave her a tender look. “Never give up that quality. It becomes you.”
She stared, at a loss for words. His last statement caressed her like a lover’s hand. There was a hunger burning deeply within his eyes and she swallowed against a lump, losing her gaiety. A primal need surged through her as she sat facing him. God, had one night in his arms shaken loose all her carefully controlled passions? Sleeping with a man was heaven to her, and she had missed it more than anything else since her divorce. And last night had torn down the walls she’d put up to protect herself. Nervously Libby stood, shrugging into her pack and belting up. “Sometimes I’d like to be less readable,” she groused. “Harold read every thought I was thinking and it got me into a lot of trouble.”
Dan reached out, pulling her around to face him. He rested his hands against her shoulders. His brows were drawn downward, eyes unreadable as he studied her upturned face. “Your openness will never get you into trouble with me.”
Libby’s heart leaped wildly as he reached out, his thumb gently tracing the natural curve of her cheek, coming to rest beneath her chin. Pleasurable tingles leaped like electricity through her tense body at his knowing touch. He searched her face for a long moment, as if memorizing each detail and nuance of her features.
“You’re a beautiful golden druidess, Libby,” he breathed huskily. “So alive...so damned enticing and yet so dangerous....” His mouth descended, grazing her parting lips in a featherlight kiss.
Her senses reeled at the touch of his mouth, and she felt his hand steadying her, pulling her toward the hardness of his body. His masculine scent was a heady perfume to her senses, and Libby closed her eyes and swayed against him. The second time his mouth came down strongly against her lips, parting them, teasing her until an explosion of fire roared to life within her. A soft moan escaped from her throat as she felt his hand sliding downward, caressing the curve of her breast. Finally, after what seemed a delicious eternity, he pulled away, his eyes turbulent. They stood inches apart, staring at one another, stunned in the aftermath of what their kiss had ignited. Libby pushed herself away from him, her hand planted against his broad chest. “Please,” she whispered tremulously, “we can’t... Shouldn’t...”
His hand gripped her arm as he studied her with a new, ruthless intensity. “Why not?” he rasped thickly.
Confused, needing him and at the same time feeling frightened of her own violent reaction, Libby freed herself from his grasp. He was relentless, like a mountain lion stalking his prey, and she felt helpless when he was that close. Moving away even more, she turned, her eyes reflecting her internal anguish. “We have a job to do,” she stumbled, “and—”
He walked toward her ominously. “Now you’re playing a game,” he growled softly. “Play it with other men, Libby, but don’t play it with me. Or is it because you’re suddenly repelled by the fact that I’m not from the same side of the tracks as you are?”
Stunned by his brutal question, she turned, her cheeks blazing with color. He let her go and she blindly started up the smooth granite slope. After a few minutes Dan caught up with her, gripping her arm and pulling her to a halt. Libby turned around and faced him, partly out of fear and partly out of anger.
“From here on until we top this ridge, we’ll keep a rope between us,” Dan ordered, pulling one from his pack. She stood stiffly as he adjusted the snap on her belt. His closeness was near
ly unbearable in her present mood. As he released the rope, which was now fastened securely to her body, Libby stepped away.
For a moment they stared at one another like adversaries. Libby met the coolness of his gaze defiantly, lifting her chin. He sighed, resting all his weight on one leg and throwing both hands on his hips. “I’m not going to have you mad as a hornet when we start this climb, because I’ve got to have your cooperation, Libby.”
She had unconsciously clenched her fists at her sides. “You accused me of playing a game with you back there. Well...it wasn’t! Since you’re so demanding about total honesty, why don’t you tell me whether you’re divorced or married? I make it a point never to get involved with married men. It’s stupid and it isn’t worth the risk.”
Dan gave her a measuring stare. “Is that the only reason why you pushed me away?” he demanded coldly.
“Yes.”
His eyes became opaque and unreadable. “Doesn’t it bother you that I’m just a logger? A blue-collar worker who earns a living wielding a choke chain or a saw?”
She gave him a confused look. “What are you talking about? Why should someone’s job have anything to do with anything?’’ she demanded, exasperation tingeing her voice.
Dan shook his head disbelievingly. “You’re either a very clever liar or you really do believe what you’re saying.”
Libby lifted her chin defiantly, anger spilling over in her words. “I have never let something like that stand in the way of friendship or love. Why should it?”
“It does for a lot of women,” he said stonily.
Her nostrils flared in fury. “Damn! I’m not most women!”
A slow, unsure grin tugged at his mouth. “That’s an understatement. I gather from your reaction that you’ve had a bad experience with a married man.”
She frowned. “Yes, if you must know, I did. Isn’t it obvious?’’
“You’re not a risk-taker?” he probed.
Her heart was pounding furiously in her breast. “I take calculated risks,” she hurled back, some of the fury draining from her voice.
“That’s wise,” he agreed.
Libby gave him a perplexed look, unsure of where the conversation was going. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she reminded him tartly.
He gathered up the coil of rope and fastened it in place as he walked up to her. He halted, giving her a searching look for a long moment “Would it make you feel better to know I’m divorced?” he demanded, an ironic glint in his eyes. “Does that make me a better risk?” he taunted softly.
Libby colored instantly, unable to meet his inquiring eyes. “You could be the only man left in the world and you’d be the world’s greatest risk!” she countered, seeing his coolness.
A grin spread across his craggy features. “Touché, my druidess. Come on. We’ve got three hours of hard work in front of us.’’
Miffed, she followed him, listening carefully to his directions on where and how to place her feet in the toeholds provided by crevices in the rock. The hours sped by and she ran through their conversation several times, analyzing it. What kind of woman had married him? And what were the circumstances of the divorce? Had she been unable to meet his demands? Somehow Dan Wagner seemed inflexible to her. He always seemed to have a chip on his shoulder about his job, and that perplexed her. She had found out one thing of interest though: he liked risks. Not just small ones, but big ones. And he respected her reactions to his questioning. A silly grin pulled at her lips, and she felt slightly better about this enigma of a man who climbed the mountain with her.
It was late afternoon when they reached the top of the yellow-ocher ridge. The sunny day had suddenly clouded up, and towering cumulus clouds rose in threatening shapes on the horizon. Libby sat on a rock opposite Dan, sharing a drink of water from his canteen. She felt incredibly happy up there where the wind never seemed to die down. Dan shrugged out of his pack.
“Time for a break, Libby.”
“Too bad; I was really getting into the swing of it.”
He looked up, breaking a candy bar in half and giving her some of it. “You did very well.”
She tossed him a light smile. “We risk-takers are up to it,” she retorted, and bit into the sweet chocolate.
He stood looking over the lower mountains and the thousands of acres of mature timber below them. “You are a definite risk-taker,” he agreed, turning and catching her gaze.
Libby joined him. “Only in certain ways,” she corrected him, returning that lazy smile. “Isn’t this beautiful?” she asked, her voice filled with newfound reverence.
“Almost as beautiful as you are,” he agreed.
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Really? Is that why you’re blushing?”
“Sunburn.”
Dan’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Do you always turn compliments aside, Libby?”
She smiled. “Sometimes. Especially yours.”
He slowly unhooked the rope from his belt and walked over, unsnapping it from hers. He met her wide-eyed stare. “Afraid of me?” he asked huskily, their faces no more than a few inches apart.
She didn’t feel very fearless that close to him, but she forced a smile. “Don’t try to scare me with your macho charisma, Dan Wagner. It won’t work.”
“I didn’t get that impression last night or earlier this afternoon,” he hinted.
Her heart fluttered briefly in her chest. She was playing a dangerous game with him. Either he was ignorant of her ploy or just patiently biding his time to call her hand. “Just to keep things ‘honest’ between us, Dan, I don’t go around falling into the arms of every man I meet. You included. The circumstances last night were unique.” She compressed her lips, watching him through her wheat-colored lashes. He frightened her in many ways—ways that left her feeling unsure of herself emotionally. The last thing she wanted was a one-night stand. It wasn’t worth the emotional risk, and despite the permissiveness of the times, Libby needed more than a fling.
She grimaced inwardly as she set about helping Dan find enough wood to fuel a small fire. Dan was the kind of man who got exactly what he went after. She trembled, scooping up several more twigs and bringing them back to where Dan knelt coaxing the fire to life behind a rocky shelter. She had seen that measuring look in his eye when he watched her, and it created butterflies in her stomach and a flutter in her heart. At twenty-nine she was well past such high school reactions. Yet, Dan excited her in dangerous and unknown ways. She sat back against the sun-warmed rocks, watching his progress.
“Do you always get what you want?” she asked softly.
His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing on her features. “What?”
Libby rested her chin against her palms. “You strike me as a man who has gotten everything he ever went after. Is that true?”
He frowned, returning to the fire. “What gave you that idea?”
She laughed. “Everything about you! I mean, you came stalking into my office and turned my world upside down.”
He sat back, placing a larger branch on the small fire. “I’ve gotten everything I went after, but sometimes I didn’t realize the cost involved until after I got it,” he growled.
“Don’t tell me you leaped before you looked?”
“That was when I was younger,” he countered. “At my age I look very carefully before I go after my next goal.”
“Mmm, my feelings exactly. So tell me about yourself, Dan.”
He gave her a dark, hooded stare before getting to his feet “You’re being awfully chatty all of a sudden.” He reached into his pack, bringing out food for their early dinner.
“Would you prefer if I talked to the rocks or maybe the wind?” she returned tartly, confused by his sudden withdrawal.
“You’d better be looking at that building cumulus, lady. Because in about an hour we’re going to be in for one hell of a storm. Instead of talking, why don’t you start exploring this ridge and see if there are any
niches where we can hide to escape the brunt of it.” He gave her a tight smile. “Unless you want to stand out here and risk getting struck by about a million volts of electricity.”
Libby glanced at him and then turned, looking at the approaching storm front. All along the horizon the black, roiling mass of clouds had tripled in size and height and was bearing down on them. “We never get thunderstorms in San Francisco,” she murmured, awed by the force that nature had assembled.
“Don’t look so worried. You’ll be guaranteed an electrical display that will never be equaled by any Fourth of July.”
Libby walked past him and he reached out, gripping her wrist
“Hey,” he growled, “now be careful up here. One wrong step and you’ll be hurtling down the side of this thing. I don’t want to lose you.”
Her arm tingled wildly at his touch, and she felt relieved as he withdrew his hand. “I would have thought you’d be glad to get rid of me,” she taunted lightly. “After all, if I’m gone, the environmental plans will surely be tabled for a while.”
He grinned tightly. “Just be careful, Druidess.”
Libby’s smile faded beneath his blue gaze. The huskiness in his voice showed his concern, and that affected her. Watching her step, she walked along the top of the ridge with the high-gusting winds at her back. It took her nearly half an hour to find a suitable shelter. Smiling triumphantly, Libby returned, suddenly famished. The sky was darkening rapidly and every few minutes she looked up at the threatening clouds.
Dan invited her to sit down with him, using the giant boulder as a windbreak. He handed her a cup of steaming split-pea soup, pan bread with onions and a healthy portion of scrambled eggs. She dropped down beside him, smiling her thanks.
“Well, did you find anything?”
“You’ll be proud of me,” she said between bites. “I found a small cave a short distance from here.”
“You didn’t go inside it, did you?”
Frowning at his question, she mumbled, “No. Why?”
He swore softly, shaking his head. “At least you have some sense. There could easily be a wild animal in there, that’s why.”
Wilderness Passion Page 7