“THERE’S THE CABIN, just up ahead,” Marc said to Brooke as his flashlight beam finally lit on a small structure coated in snow, a welcome sight that would provide them with the warmth and shelter they desperately needed. His thighs burned with the effort of trudging through knee-deep snow and leaning against the fierce gusts. He imagined Brooke was experiencing the same agony, but she hadn’t issued any complaints.
“Thank God,” came her muffled response through the shield of her helmet as she plodded along next to him. “I was beginning to think you’d misjudged your sense of direction again.”
Though her tone held a wry note, she clearly sounded relieved, as was he. What had taken minutes by snowmobile had taken nearly an hour by foot. The winds, icy snow, and poor visibility had worked against them, and though he’d never admit it to Brooke, Marc had started to worry that he’d gotten them completely lost.
The emergency survival kit was tucked securely in his jacket, but the last thing he wanted was to test its reliability against the fury of a blizzard. Despite the fact that they were protected from head to toe in insulated gear and that the walking had kept their blood heated and flowing, the freezing temperature had managed to creep through seams and small openings, sending an occasional shiver coursing through him.
Once they were under the awning of the tiny porch and deemed the place deserted, Marc looked around for the best way to break into the cabin. Knowing he had little choice, he busted open one of the four small panes of glass that made up the front window, then reached inside with a gloved hand and unlatched the lock. He shoved up the wooden casing, and brushed away the sharp remnants of glass.
“You’ll fit through that space better than I will,” he said, motioning Brooke over.
She nodded in agreement, and seconds later she’d slipped safely inside the cabin and had the front door open for him to enter. He shoved the door closed behind him, and they both removed their helmets and looked around.
It wasn’t much warmer in the cabin, but at least they had a roof over their heads and amenities for the duration of the storm. The structure wasn’t anything fancy, definitely a vacation retreat. One sweeping glance of his flashlight encompassed a carpeted living room with a single couch in front of the fireplace, a kitchen with a small table, a bathroom off to the left, and an upstairs loft.
Marc hit one of the switches on the wall, and they both grinned as the lamp on the end table illuminated the room, indicating that the owners kept the electricity supply on. Heading into the kitchen, he turned on the sink’s faucet, and wasn’t surprised to discover the water had been turned off so the pipes wouldn’t freeze. They checked the cupboards and found them stocked with bottled water, canned and packaged foods, and airtight containers holding other staples.
“See what you can find to cover up that hole in the front window,” he said, heading back through the adjoining living room to the front door. “I’m going back outside to see if I can locate the valves to turn on the water.”
Within an hour, the place was as intimate and cozy as their own cabin. They had running water, along with gas for the water heater and stove. While Marc had been scouring the perimeter of the cabin for those valves, he’d discovered a crate of wood. Against the fierce elements, he’d hauled every last log into the house, and Brooke had patched the window with a piece of cardboard and nails she’d discovered in the back utility room. Though they could hear the wind whistling through cracks and still feel an occasional draft, it was nothing compared to spending the night outside in the company of the storm.
After stripping off his snowsuit and gloves, Marc joined Brooke by the fire. Rubbing his chilled hands together, he glanced at her, immediately picking up on the worry lining her features.
The urge to touch her was strong, and with effort he restrained the tender impulse. He’d revealed way too much after that kiss in the snow, more than he’d intended. If she hadn’t known before, she certainly realized now that she had him confused and frustrated, and completely tied up in knots, despite his attempt to divert their attraction by fraternizing with another woman. The only thing his efforts had accomplished was to make him more aware of Brooke.
Maintaining distance during their seclusion and not taking advantage of their attraction was going to zap every bit of restraint and control he possessed. She knew as well as he did that nothing could come of them being together, no matter how much they both wanted one another. Above all, he treasured his friendship with Brooke, and the possibility of heartache and other emotional complications was too high to risk. They’d already skirted that particular danger with the seductive kisses they’d indulged in, and he knew making love would only up the ante to a level he wasn’t prepared to invest in.
And since he wasn’t the kind of guy to carry an emergency condom in his wallet, keeping his hands off her was a matter of principle as well as practicality. Never mind that there were a dozen other ways he imagined making love to her that didn’t require a prophylactic.
He watched her chew on her full lower lip and ignored the deep clenching of desire in his belly. “Hey, you okay?”
She inhaled a deep breath, momentarily drawing his gaze to the way her breasts rose and fell beneath her tightly knit sweater. “Jessica is probably frantic right about now,” she said, turning her deep blue gaze his way. “I really wish there was some way we could reach her and let her know we’re both okay. It would make the next day or so easier to get through knowing she wasn’t worrying about us. There’s a CB radio back in our cabin that Jessica knows about for emergencies. I’m sure she’s turned it on by now since we haven’t returned, but I guess that does us little good.”
He grasped a way to ease Brooke’s concern. “Unless I can call out on my cell phone.” He hated to offer false hope, but he couldn’t discount the chance that he might be able to transmit from this area.
Heading back to his snowsuit by the door, he retrieved the unit from his jacket and turned it on. The signal remained non-existent. Not willing to overlook any realm of possibility, he meticulously strolled around the cabin, covering every inch of space…and finally found a two-foot area near the front window that afforded him a signal, albeit a weak one.
“Got it,” he said, grinning victoriously at Brooke, who returned the smile. He dialed 911, and after he explained their predicament, the dispatcher forwarded his call to the ranger’s station for help.
Five minutes later, he disconnected the line and headed back toward Brooke, who was kneeling in front of the fireplace and tossing more logs onto the grate. “Now that the ranger station has your CB channel, they’ll keep trying to call our cabin until they get hold of someone and assure them that we’re safe and okay.”
“Good.” After arranging the wood with the poker, she stood and set the screen back in place then brushed off her hands. “What about us?”
He placed his phone on the coffee table, next to a small pile of magazines. “They know our location—”
“Approximately,” she cut in, her voice infused with a teasing note.
“Yeah, approximately,” he reluctantly agreed. Like any other male, he was loathe to admit that he wasn’t exactly certain of their whereabouts. “The guy I spoke with said that as long as we aren’t in an emergency situation we need to stay put until the white-out conditions improve and they can send out their rescue team.”
“And when did they think that would be?”
“According to the National Weather Service, there’s another storm right behind this current one. They’re expecting four to six feet of snow in the next day or two, without much relief in between.”
The implications of his statement couldn’t be more obvious. Instead of the apprehension or reservation he would have expected from Brooke, his sister-in-law, an alluring smile curved the mouth of Brooke, the newly confident woman. “Then it’s just you and me alone until the blizzard passes.”
Marc’s heart thumped hard in his chest. The sudden sexy gleam in Brooke’s gaze didn’t bode well for him, his libido, or his willpower.
THEIR SITUATION WAS RIPE with opportunity, and teeming with endless possibilities. Marc, however, wasn’t cooperating with Brooke’s plan for seduction. Ever since calling the ranger station and imparting the news of their two-day confinement, he’d opted for light and amicable conversation, and avoided close proximity.
That arrangement would change, and soon, considering they’d be sharing the makeshift bed they’d made in front of the fireplace. Neither one of them felt comfortable sleeping in someone else’s bed, so they’d opted to spread open a large, flannel-lined sleeping bag they’d found in the closet, and use the pillows and blankets from the loft. The bed was soft, comfortable, and afforded them both their own separate space—if they wanted it.
Marc apparently did, considering how neatly he’d aligned his own blanket and two pillows on his side of the sleeping bag.
Luckily, she had two days to sway and convince him, to wear down his resistance and lead them both astray.
Releasing a deep sigh to waylay the desire curling low in her belly, she glanced toward the gorgeous, tempting man in the kitchen who’d insisted on making them each a mug of prepackaged hot chocolate before they turned in for the night. She wasn’t the least bit tired. Now that her adrenaline surge from their hike through the storm had dissipated, and her initial worry about the others back at their cabin had been eased, her thoughts were focused on the various ways she might entice Marc into accepting her proposition.
Unfortunately, he was being way too chivalrous, and though the old Brooke would have appreciated his gallant attempt to resist her, the newly blossoming Brooke had decided to have this affair and enjoy every aspect of it. Stranded in this little cabin, she didn’t have a care in the world, just a burning desire to explore the depths of her sensuality and passion with Marc…no promises involved.
The arrangement should suit Marc perfectly, just as soon as she broke through his reserve.
Figuring tonight was a bust considering everything they’d been through, she sat up and peeled her sweater over her head and tossed it onto the couch, then shimmied out of her leggings, leaving her clad in her long-sleeved thermal top and bottoms etched with tiny pink hearts—nothing remotely sexy or appealing about that! Then she wrangled her way out of her confining bra through her top, and added that to the pile. Removing the elastic band at the base of the French braid she’d worn, she unraveled the strands and massaged her tight scalp. When she turned around, she gasped to find Marc standing by the sofa, two mugs of steaming cocoa in his hands and a lopsided grin on his face that belied the dark, smoldering gray of his irises.
His gaze took in her form-fitting underwear. “I think I have a new appreciation for thermals,” he murmured.
This was the flirtatious Marc she knew and felt comfortable with. The inherently sexual man who’d accommodate her request when the time came. “Uhhuh,” she said, rolling her eyes at his claim, no matter how complimentary. “I find it hard to believe any man would find thermal appealing. It ranks right up there with flannel.”
Marc chuckled, the rich sound filled with relaxed amusement. “It’s what’s underneath all that thermal that counts. Peeling away all those soft, warm layers to reveal even warmer, softer skin could prove to be a very exciting experience.”
Oh, yeah, she thought, knowing she wouldn’t object if he decided to do just that with her.
He reached out…and handed her one of the mugs of hot chocolate. “This ought to warm your belly before you fall asleep.”
She accepted his offering and grinned when she saw the smooth white blob floating on top of her drink. “Hey, where did you find marshmallows?”
“It’s marshmallow cream, the kind that comes in a jar.” He placed his mug on the coffee table in front of their makeshift bed. “It was in the cupboard.”
Settling back down on her side of the sleeping bag, she crossed her legs facing the hearth and waited for Marc to join her.
The lamp behind her snapped off, but the bright fire provided more than enough illumination to make up for the loss of light. She glanced at her watch—it was ten after eleven and definitely bedtime. After the day they’d had she should have been ready to crash, yet she decided if Marc was going to be noble and not touch her, then she wouldn’t mind just talking for a while.
Wrapping her fingers around her mug, she brought it to her lips and took a sip. She savored the luxuriant flavor of chocolate filling her mouth, then licked off a smudge of marshmallow that clung to her upper lip. Behind her, she heard the arousing rustle of Marc removing his sweater, the heart-pounding sound of his jeans’ zipper, and the scrape of that rough material dragging down his legs before he stepped out of it.
When he joined her in front of the fire, his attire matched hers, minus the pink hearts. She couldn’t resist teasing him. “You don’t look half-bad in thermal, either.” On the contrary, the nubby fabric molded to every hard contour of his body. Judging by the lack of bumps or lines around his hips and thighs, he wasn’t wearing any briefs.
He retrieved his hot chocolate off the coffee table, and he flashed a sexy grin.
She watched as he stretched out on his side and propped himself up with his elbow. Taking another drink of the warm liquid, she decided on more stimulating conversation. “I’ll bet Stacey and Shane wish they were the ones who were stranded in this storm, instead of us.”
He slanted her a curious glance over the rim of his mug. “How so?”
She grinned. “They’d definitely make the most of the seclusion.”
He said nothing, though she knew Marc had followed the implication behind her statement—why weren’t they taking advantage of the isolation that had so conveniently presented itself?
Since he wasn’t cooperating with her discussion, she continued. “I have to admit that I’ve always been a little envious of Stacey, and how she can just enjoy having an affair with a man she’s attracted to, no strings attached.”
He considered that for a moment. “And you wish you could be like that?”
“In some ways.” She shrugged, and set her empty mug on the coffee table. “I’ve only recently given it any thought, but it doesn’t seem as easy for a woman to just have a physical relationship with a man without gaining a certain kind of reputation.”
A smile tipped up the corner of his mouth. “Ahh, the old double standard.”
“Yes. It’s unfair how it seems acceptable for a man to play the field, but when a woman does the same thing she risks her virtue or respectability.”
He mulled over her comment while staring into the depths of his mug, then glanced her way. “Are we talking about the double standard within the bonds of marriage, or being single and unattached?”
“Both, actually.” She drew her slender legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I know society has come a long way and we’re living in the twenty-first century, but it just seems easier and more acceptable for men to go out and have a fling than for a woman to do the same thing.”
“I don’t believe in double standards when it comes to sex and relationships,” he replied. “A good sexual chemistry should be enjoyed by both partners, for as long as the attraction lasts.”
“No commitments, huh?” she asked softly.
He met her stare evenly. “No commitments, Brooke,” he said, the statement sounding too much like a warning. “I avoid serious relationships.”
She rested her chin atop her knees, a compelling blend of curiosity and tenderness weaving through her. “Why?”
He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw, his frown giving her the distinct impression that he’d rather ignore her question. She waited patiently for his reply, wanting to know the reasons why he’d chosen the bachelor route and was so against something permanent with a woman.
As if realizing she wasn’t going to let the subject slide, he finally answered. “I learned early on that I don’t have what it takes to sustain a lasting commitment.” A muscle in his cheek ticked with irritation. “The women I’ve dated know my rules right up front. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
Brooke knew there was more to Marc’s statement than a cavalier attitude about relationships. There was something deeper and infinitely emotional behind his words—the misery creasing his expression told a tale of its own. Whatever he’d been through had affected his ability to believe he could be the kind of man a woman wanted for a husband.
“What I see is what I get, huh?” She tossed his own words back at him, suddenly seeing them as an emotional shield he hid behind when things got too intense. Didn’t he realize that he’d given her too many glimpses past the surface of that carefree, flirtatious demeanor for her to think him so shallow? She’d seen a side to Marc she hadn’t known existed until this weekend, a man with integrity whom she trusted, a man very different from the one he believed himself to be, or the one he presented to everyone else.
“That just about sums it up, Brooke.” Abruptly, he stood and picked up her mug from the coffee table. “It’s late, it’s been a long, exhausting day, and I think we both need to get some rest.”
He stalked off toward the kitchen, and Brooke let him go, seeing his exit for the diversion it was. She’d touched on personal issues and struck a nerve somewhere. She’d also broached the subject of an affair in a subtle, but unmistakable way. In return, he’d set down his unbendable rules with her, letting her know under no circumstances did he waver from his convictions.
She was forewarned, but not discouraged in the least. She understood and accepted his rules, and she still wanted him and the culmination of pleasure that his kisses evoked.
But for tonight, she’d give him a reprieve. They were both exhausted, and she wanted to be at her freshest when she seduced him. Tomorrow was another day of seclusion, and she wouldn’t be as easily denied.
BROOKE GRADUALLY WOKE to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and the sexy sight of Marc standing in the kitchen by the sink, holding a mug in his hand while he stared out the window. There wasn’t much to see outside except a swirl of white, which confirmed they were in the throes of the furious storm sweeping through the Rocky Mountains.
Seemingly deep in thought, he sighed heavily and shifted his stance. The muscles bisecting his back rippled with the movement beneath his thermal shirt, and his jean-clad hip rocked to the side. A small smile played around her mouth as she enjoyed the masculine view—until he turned around and glanced her way, meeting her sleepy gaze. His ebony hair was damp, and the dark stubble lining his jaw and cheeks made his eyes appear black and intense.
A feathery sensation coursed through her, prompting instantaneous awareness. Indeed, the erotic fantasies that had invaded her dreams last night had deepened her aching need for him.
“Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky with the remnants of sleep.
“Morning,” he returned, then took a drink of the steaming brew in his mug. “How are you feeling?”
Tossing off her covers, she stood, then groaned as muscles she didn’t even know she possessed screamed in protest. “Oh, man,” she breathed in agony.
The corner of his mouth quirked with amusement. “I think you just answered my question. I woke up in the same sorry condition.”
She smiled. “I feel like every tendon from my neck to calves is going to snap if I straighten too fast.” Slowly, she reached her arms over her head and arched her back, and winced as her body reluctantly distended. The exercise caused her breasts to thrust forward and her top to lift, exposing a two-inch strip of flesh. He noticed, his gaze lingering, searing her skin.
An annoyed frown creased his brow and he averted his gaze, placing his mug on the counter. “A hot shower will help relax your muscles.”
“Sounds wonderful,” she agreed, gratified to see that despite his lecture and good intentions last night he was struggling with his own desire. Heading into the kitchen area, she glanced at her watch. It was twenty after eight. “Have you been up long?”
“For a while,” he said vaguely, giving her the impression that he’d had a restless night. “I called the ranger station this morning. They confirmed that they got a hold of Shane late last night and gave him the message that we were fine and safe.”
“I’m glad.” Knowing that Jessica wouldn’t spend the next day or so panicking over their whereabouts was a big relief. “Any change in the weather?” she asked, dragging a hand through her disheveled hair.
His jaw tightened. “No.” He didn’t sound happy about that fact. Turning away from her, he retrieved a frying pan from below the gas stove and set it on a burner. “Why don’t you go take a shower while I make us some breakfast? I found some shampoo, soap, toothpaste and mouthwash, and I left it out for you to use.”
“Thanks.” Heading into the bathroom, she turned on the water, stripped off her clothes, and stepped beneath the shower spray.
Her head fell forward, and a groan of relief purred in her throat as the hot, pulsating water pounded across her stiff shoulders, loosening muscles and gradually relaxing her body. She shampooed her hair, then soaped up a face cloth and washed from neck to ankle. She turned around to rinse, and gasped as the hard stream of water pelted her sensitive breasts, causing her nipples to peak, then flowed down her belly and trickled between her thighs like the tantalizing stroke of liquid silk.
She shuddered as a shameless kind of pleasure beckoned, swirling around her as feverishly as the steam from the hot water. Closing her eyes, she cupped her hands over her heavy breasts and kneaded the firm flesh, brushed her fingers over the taut crests. Her breathing grew shallow, and her heart pounded hard in her chest.
The need Marc had ignited with his sexy kisses was just as vibrant, just as demanding. Biting her lower lip, she slowly slicked her palms down her stomach, let her fingers graze the thatch of soft curls at the apex of her thighs. Her belly tightened, and her thighs trembled in expectation of that first touch, a deeper caress, and the incredible, shuddering release that would follow.
It would be so easy to take the edge off the desire thrumming through her. Instead, she stopped before indulging in the intimate touch that would end her torment, opting to let the ache and anticipation build.
Marc had roused that sensual hunger within her. He would be the one to appease it.