As the tower came into full view, with its four walls of windows glinting in the sun, he heard Rachel laugh. “I see now why your father sounded an alarm. The lookouts lived in a glass house.”
“Can we climb the tower, Dad? We only came here once before, and you said I was too little then.”
“Maybe later.” Remorse gnawed at him. Jordan was eight, going on nine, yet he’d brought his son only once to the place that had been his own favorite as a boy.
Rachel and her startling likeness to his honeymoon lady had revived memories, not only of the visits themselves, but also of the wonderment and exhilaration of his childhood. Jordan should have been experiencing those marvels and delights, but Wade had been too busy, wrapped in self-pity and the problems of the ranch, to know whether Jordan’s development was including the kind of milestones and adventures that had made his own growing up special.
If it hadn’t been for Rachel, Wade would never have remembered what being a child was like, and he would have failed his son in the worst way. He had a lot to make up for, but today would be a start.
RACHEL LAY BACK on the blanket, propped on her elbows, and gazed over the distant valley, struggling to stay awake. The early afternoon sun toasted her face and, in spite of a cooling breeze, produced a comfortable warmth, even at the high altitude. After a lunch of Ursula’s thick ham sandwiches, homemade chocolate cookies and hot coffee, she would have dozed off if Jordan hadn’t wakened her.
“Look at these, Rachel.”
The boy stood beside her, glowing with happiness and curiosity and presenting a totally different picture from his tear-stained appearance when they’d first met. His father’s attention was all Jordan had needed. Even his appetite had improved. If he kept eating the way he had at lunch, the gauntness in his face would disappear in no time.
“What did you find?” She sat up and patted the blanket beside her, astonished by the surge of maternal affection he triggered.
He knelt and held out dirt-grimed hands. On each palm lay a rock, one greenish-gray with sharp, jagged edges and the other rounded and smooth with rusty striations through its glassy surface. “Do you know what kind they are?”
Rachel turned over each stone and examined it. “They’re beautiful, but I don’t know anything about rocks.”
Wade returned from placing the lunch cooler in the shade of the truck, and glanced over the boy’s shoulder.
“How can I find out what they’re called?” Jordan looked to his father.
“Next time I go into town,” Wade said, “you can come with me. The library has plenty of books that identify all kinds of rocks.”
“Wow, that would be great! I can start a collection.” Jordan picked up a plastic bag that had held cookies and dropped the rocks into it. “Can I look for more?”
“What about picking huckleberries?” Wade asked.
“That’s work,” Jordan said with a grimace. “Hunting rocks is fun.”
“Okay, but only if you stay within certain limits.” Wade pointed out the boundaries for Jordan to observe while searching.
“If you need us, we’ll be just west of the ridgeline.”
Jordan looped the bag through his belt and sprinted off toward an outcropping of boulders on the south end of the mountaintop.
“What if he runs into those grizzlies you mentioned?” Rachel doubted she could feel more apprehensive about the boy’s safety if he’d been her own son.
“Don’t worry.” Wade’s eyes twinkled with humor as he handed her a galvanized bucket. “All the bears will be where we are, eating huckleberries.”
“Oh.” Suddenly berry picking seemed less appealing.
“I’m kidding.” Wade grasped her hand and hauled her to her feet.
Too surprised to resist, she found herself gazing into his face, while diverse elements assaulted her senses. The firm pressure of his callused hand, a whiff of chocolate on his warm breath, the sunbaked heat of his skin and teasing laughter in his seductive eyes weakened her knees. She clasped his arm to keep from falling.
“There’re no bears?” Breathless as a longdistance runner, she gasped the words.
His expression sobered, as if he’d mistaken her giddiness for fear. “Grizzlies are seldom seen this side of the valley. They stay in the Cabinet Mountains, in the wilderness area. I promise you’ll be safe. And despite Jordan’s disclaimer, picking huckleberries is more fun than work.”
She backed away and whirled around, the empty pail spinning at her side as she took in the full-circle view. “In this air with this scenery, anything would be enjoyable.”
“Anything?” The heat simmering in his eyes and the upturned corners of his mouth suggested infinite possibilities.
Apparently his earlier reservations had disappeared, and she wondered why. Although Wade’s change of attitude pleased her, her body’s instantaneous response to his teasing unnerved her.
To avoid his molten look, she glanced at Jordan, sitting at the base of some boulders, happily sorting rocks and pebbles, then pivoted on her heel and headed down the ridge toward the huckleberry patch Wade had indicated earlier.
“Last one to fill a bucket has to cook supper,” she called over her shoulder.
The tremor of Wade’s footsteps as he caught up with her transferred through the soles of her sneakers and vibrated up her legs. By the time they reached the broad swath of low bushes clinging to the steep mountainside, she felt a rush of anticipation.
Wasn’t this what she’d wanted—for Wade to discover she was more than just a caretaker for his son? That she was flesh and blood, with wants and needs of her own?
Then why was she shaking like a virgin bride?
The stunning implications of her last question raised a dozen more, including the burning puzzle of whether she’d ever made love with a man before. She couldn’t even remember being kissed. In that instant, she knew that more than anything she wanted Wade to kiss her.
She halted at the edge of the clump beside a shrub heavy with fruit. “What now?”
Wade moved down the slope and turned to face her, his eyes level with hers. “Have you ever tasted huckleberries?”
She blinked in confusion. Berries had nothing to do with her question.
Without removing his riveting gaze from her face, Wade reached out, plucked a berry and lifted it to her lips. She bit into the warm, sweet fruit, and its juice exploded in her mouth and dribbled down her chin.
Just as Wade lifted his hand to wipe the juice from her face, a flash of movement and golden fur in the distant trees made her flinch in alarm.
“A bear!” She started to turn back toward the mountaintop, but her foot slipped on the loose pebbles of the dry hillside.
As if in slow motion, she pitched forward, ramming into Wade and knocking him to his back. With her sprawled atop him, they slid down the almost-vertical slope, raising clouds of dust and creating a miniature rock cascade as they went.
Wade held her close, absorbing the impact of her fall, the jolts of the rough terrain. After what seemed forever, but was only seconds, he whipped out his hand and grabbed a nearby bush. His hold anchored them and yanked them to a stop.
“I’m sorry.” She raised herself on her elbows. “But the bear—”
Wade released his grip on the branch and restrained her with firm hands. “That was no bear.”
“But I saw…” Her body melded with his, each curve fitting as if they were two pieces of one jigsaw puzzle.
“You saw a white-tailed deer.” He moved his hands up her back, caressed her neck and clasped her face between his palms. Laughter, and something hotter, blazed in his eyes as he pulled her face closer. “It’s nothing to be scared of.”
The wild animal that frightened her now was the one he had loosed inside her with his touch.
His lips joined hers, branding her soul. Unwilling to resist his slow, skillful enticement, she opened her mouth to him. The gentle but insistent flick of his tongue ousted all conscious thoughts but one.
For the rest of her life, the taste of huckleberries would remind her of Wade’s kiss.
Suddenly, as if someone had turned him off with a switch, Wade jerked away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
With an abruptness that shocked her, he shifted her off him, rose to his feet and brushed dust from his jeans, all the while refusing to meet her gaze.
“Sorry?” she echoed, confused at his sudden mood change.
“Shouldn’t have kissed you,” he said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand as if removing the evidence. “Broke my own rule.”
“What rule?” She pushed herself to her feet, shaken more by his kiss and subsequent rejection than the slide down the mountainside.
“Our arrangement. Strictly business, remember?”
“Sure.” Her head swam, bedeviled by mixed signals. He’d wanted to kiss her. And he’d obviously enjoyed it. So what, all of a sudden, had made him change his mind?
“Our arrangement…” she began.
He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out husky. “Better not to talk about it now. We’ll wait a few more days. See if your memory returns.”
“Okay.” She tried but couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice, the disappointment from her face.
“Look,” he said, his tone softening. “I don’t want you making any long-term decisions under duress. Give yourself time, okay?”
She nodded. His suggestion was sensible, logical. But there’d been nothing logical or sensible about the kiss they’d shared. Maybe he was right. She needed to make her choices with a clear mind. With her memory intact.
If she kept responding with her senses instead of her head, he’d begin to wonder what kind of wanton woman had answered his ad in the first place.
She scrambled up the rock face and retrieved her bucket. “Ursula will skin us alive if we don’t bring back enough berries for jelly.”
Wade relaxed and grinned, evidently relieved that a crisis had passed. “We’ll be punishing ourselves if we don’t include enough for a pie or two.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in quiet companionship as they filled countless buckets with huckleberries and emptied them into a huge washtub in the bed of the pickup.
“We must have ten gallons of berries,” Rachel observed. “Can Ursula use all these?”
“Huckleberry jelly, jam, syrup.” Wade ticked the items off on his fingers. “Pancakes, muffins, pies—”
Rachel held up her hands in surrender. “I get the idea.” She glanced around the meadow that covered the mountain’s flat top. “Where’s Jordan?”
They had checked on the boy each time they’d returned to the truck to empty their buckets, but this time, Jordan was out of sight. He’d wandered outside the boundaries Wade had set for him. Alarmed, Wade started down the side of the mountain, calling his son’s name.
Rachel followed close behind, grabbing hold of branches and shrubs to keep from pitching forward down the steep slope. They’d traveled far enough down the side that they couldn’t see the lookout behind them when they spotted Jordan, digging happily in a pile of rocks.
Suddenly Wade froze.
Rachel followed his gaze to the cause of his concern. A few hundred feet below Jordan, a huge brown bear and two cubs were stripping huckleberries from a bush. Jordan, oblivious to the bears’ presence, was humming as he dug for rocks.
“Jordan.” Wade’s voice, tense with fear, rang across the hillside.
The female bear lifted her head from the bushes and sniffed the air.
Jordan looked up, saw his father and waved.
“Bears, son. Roll into a ball, facedown, and don’t move.”
Rachel had to admire Wade’s control. While his voice held a firm, not-to-be-argued-with tone, the tension had left it. He obviously didn’t want to spook Jordan into making a sudden move and inciting the mother bear to charge.
Jordan responded immediately to his father’s orders, pulling himself into a ball with his arms over his head, his face pressed to the ground. Below him, the mother bear sniffed the air again, but the wind was coming up the mountain, blowing their scents away from her.
Rachel stood immobilized until her calves, braced awkwardly on the steep slope, ached from the strain. Terrified for Jordan, she had to remind herself to breathe. The deathly quiet of the mountainside was broken only by the rustle of huckleberry bushes and the rasping of Rachel’s own breath. Beside her, Wade stood, paralyzed with fear for his son, but with a tension to his stance that indicated his readiness to run toward Jordan if the bear made a move.
And do what? Rachel wondered. His rifle was on the rack in the back of the pickup. What chance would even a big man like Wade have against a bear that looked twice his size?
For what seemed like hours, the bear and her cubs feasted in the berry patch. Wade and Rachel watched helplessly as Jordan lay as still as he could, his thin shoulders trembling with terror. They didn’t dare move toward the boy for fear of spooking the bear. Finally, the bear, her cubs rolling and frolicking close behind, lumbered down the mountain and out of sight.
When Wade started moving down the slope, Rachel sank down with relief and rubbed the burning muscles in her legs. As she watched, Wade reached Jordan, scooped him in his arms and strode back up the mountain.
Jordan’s face was etched with fear, and Rachel couldn’t tell whether his fright was a remnant of his close encounter with the bear or reaction to the anger reddening his father’s face. They reached Rachel, and Wade set Jordan on his feet.
“Was it a grizzly?” the boy asked shakily, his face pale.
Wade shook his head. “But big enough to do serious damage.”
Jordan started to cry. “I’m sor-sorry.”
Rachel started toward the boy, but Wade shook his head and raised his voice. “I told you not to wander off. Now do you understand why?”
Tears streaming down his cheeks, Jordan nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I was looking at rocks and not paying attention.”
Wade scowled at Jordan’s tears. “Haven’t I told you boys don’t cry?”
Ignoring Wade’s disapproval, Rachel pulled Jordan into her arms and held him close. “We know you’re sorry,” she crooned, and wiped his tears with the back of her hand. Speaking to Jordan, she glared over his head at his father. “And you’ve been punished enough by the scare that bear gave you. I’m sure from now on you’ll obey your father’s instructions more closely.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jordan tightened his arms around her neck, and Rachel felt her own eyes flood with tears. He was so little and so frightened, and for most of his short life he hadn’t had a mother to love him.
“Now,” she ordered gently with a final swift hug before releasing him, “dry those tears. We have some exploring to do.”
Jordan sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve. “Ain’t going nowhere there’s bears.”
With a twinkle in her eye, Rachel pointed up the mountain. “I doubt bears climb lookout towers.”
“Can we?” Jordan, his fear overridden by excitement, pivoted toward Wade. “Can we climb the lookout, Dad?”
Wade looked from his son to Rachel and wondered at what exact point he’d lost control of the situation. In the tradition of his father, he’d been prepared to tan Jordan’s hide for disobeying him and scaring them all half to death. Then Rachel had stepped in, and the opportunity for punishment had passed. But rewarding Jordan’s misbehavior by a trip up the tower didn’t seem right, and he opened his mouth to say so.
Then he caught the determined set of Rachel’s pretty mouth, the mouth he’d kissed just hours ago. And the resolute glint in her eye. He noted Jordan’s expression of delighted anticipation, as well. A cold, hard knot in Wade’s stomach melted, and his father’s disapproval, ringing in his memory, stilled.
He shut his mouth and jerked his head toward the mountaintop. “Better get a move on in case those bears come back for seconds.”
“Whoopee!” Jordan scrambled up
the steep slope ahead of them.
Rachel turned to Wade with a satisfied smile. “I’m getting the gist of this maternal stuff. It comes so naturally, you’d think I’d done it all before.”
Wade forced a smile past suddenly stiff lips and followed her up the mountain. For all he knew, his not-Rachel had children—and a loving husband—of her own.
Chapter Eight
Rachel was winded by the time she completed the fifth flight of stairs and Wade pulled her through the deck opening to the catwalk. His grasp was firm and warm, and she could feel the power of his muscles as he lifted her onto the plank decking. If she hadn’t been already gasping for air from the climb, Wade’s proximity and the view from the lookout tower would have taken her breath away.
To the east, across the lush, green valley bisected by the sparkling blue of the river, rose the rugged splendor of the Cabinet Mountain Wilderness Area, the summits snow-covered even in late June.
Wade pointed to the highest peaks, directly opposite the tower. “That’s A Peak. And Snowshoe.”
To the north lay the tiny logging town of Troy, nestled like a miniature village on the banks of the Kootenai River. “Those mountains north of Troy,” Wade explained, “are in British Columbia.”
To the south, a gigantic chunk of rocks and earth blocked her view. Except for a narrow pass that the road snaked through, the landslide almost blocked the valley.
“Split Mountain,” Wade said. “Hundreds of years ago, the mountain fell apart, and that lower section buried an Indian village. Even today, the place is considered taboo by the tribes.”
To the west rose one range of mountains after another, undulating waves of green on an ocean of forest. Wade pointed to the nearest. “The closest peaks are in the Kootenai National Forest, but the next mountain range is in Idaho, in the Kaniksu National Forest.”
Enchanted, Rachel grabbed the railing that circled the catwalk and drew in the sweet mountain air. “It’s all so beautiful. And so big.”
Wade nodded. “Thank God it doesn’t change much. Because most of this is government land, building is strictly limited. And in the Cabinets, all motorized vehicles are restricted.”
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