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Despite his injuries, Dante’s stomach grumbled. “I don’t want to take your food.”
She leveled her gaze at him. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t have enough.”
“Then, thank you.”
She opened two cans of chili and poured them into a pot, lit the other burner and settled the food over the flame.
Before long the teakettle steamed and the rich aroma of tomato sauce and chili powder filled the air. Emma moved with grace and efficiency, the gentle swell of her hips swaying from side to side as she moved between the sink and the stove. Dante’s groin tightened. Not that she was his typical type.
Emma appeared to be straitlaced and uptight with little time in her agenda for playing the field, as proved by their one date that had gone nowhere. Still, it didn’t give him the right to go after her again.
He shoved aside the blanket and tried to stand. “I should be helping you.” A chill hit him, penetrating his long underwear as if he wore nothing at all.
“Stay put.” She waved in his direction. “There’s little enough room in the trailer without two people bumping into each other. And I’ve got this covered.” She shed her jacket and hung it on a hook on the wall.
“I can at least get the plates and utensils down and set the table.” He glanced around. “Uh, where is the table?”
Emma grinned. “It’s under the bed. You were lying on it.”
He gave her a half bow. “Where do you propose we eat?”
“On the bed.” She grinned. “Picnic-style.”
“Do you always eat in the bed?” Images of the slightly stiff Emma wearing a baby-doll nightgown, sitting on the coverlet, eating chocolate-covered strawberries popped into Dante’s head. He tried but failed to banish the thought, his groin tightening even more. The slim professor with the chocolate-brown hair and eyes, and luscious lips tempted the saint right out of him. And the kicker was that she didn’t even know she was so very hot.
“I don’t usually have company in my trailer. I can eat wherever I want. In the summertime, I sit on a camp stool outside and watch the sun set over the dig.”
He could picture the brilliant red, orange and mauve skies tinting her hair. “I’ll consider it an adventure.” He reached around her and opened one of the overhead cabinet doors. “Where are the dishes and utensils?” As he leaned over her, the scent of roses tantalized his nostrils. Her hair shone in the light from the flame on the stove as much as he thought it might in the dying embers of a North Dakota sunset. Despite having shed her coat, the thick sweater, turtleneck and snow pants hid most of her shape. But he could remember it from the class he’d audited while attending the university in Grand Forks.
He tucked a hair behind her ear. “Why was it we only went out once?”
Her head dipped. “One has to ask for a second date.”
Dante gripped her shoulders gently and turned her slowly toward him. “I didn’t call, did I?” He stared down at her until she glanced up.
Her lips twisted. “It’s no big deal. We only went out for coffee.”
Dante swallowed hard. He remembered. It had been shortly before a particularly harsh bout of depression. One of his buddies from the army had been shot down in Afghanistan. He’d wondered if he’d stayed in the army if he could have changed the course of events, perhaps saved his friend or if he would have died in his place. Losing his fiancée and his friend so soon afterward made him question everything he’d thought he’d understood—his role in the war on terrorism, his patriotism and his faith in mankind. It had been all he could do to get out of bed each morning, go to work and fly the border missions.
“I’m sorry.” He brushed a thumb across her full lower lip and then bent to follow his thumb with his mouth. He’d only meant to kiss her softly, but once his lips touched hers, he couldn’t stop himself. A rush of hunger like he’d never known washed over him and before he realized it, he was crushing her mouth, his tongue darting out to take hers.
When he raised his head, he stared down at her through a haze of lust, wanting to drag her across the bed and strip her of every layer of clothing.
Her big brown eyes were wide, her lips swollen from his kiss and pink flags of color stained her cheeks.
Dante closed his eyes, forcing himself to be reasonable and controlled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I don’t—” she started.
The teakettle whistled.
Emma jerked around to the stove, one hand going to the handle of the kettle, the other to her lips.
Dante retrieved bowls from the cabinet and spoons from a drawer and stepped back, giving her as much space as the interior of the trailer would allow.
The wind churned outside, wailing against the flimsy outer walls, the cold seeping through.
As she poured the water into the mugs, Emma’s hand shook.
Kicking himself for his impulsive act, Dante vowed to keep his hands—and lips—to himself for the duration of their confinement in the tight space.
Since resigning his commission, Dante hadn’t considered himself fit for any relationship. He’d come back to North Dakota, hoping to reclaim the life he’d known growing up. But the transition from soldier to civilian had been anything but easy. Every loud noise made him duck, expecting incoming rounds from hidden enemies. Until today, it had only been noise. Today he’d been under attack and he hadn’t been prepared.
Emma dipped a tea bag in each mug until the water turned the desired shade. Then she pulled the bags out and set them in the tiny sink. “I’m sorry, I don’t have milk or lemon.” She held out a mug to him. “Sugar?”
The way her lips moved to say that one word had him ready to break his recent vow. “No, I’ll take it straight.”
When she handed him the mug, their hands touched and an electric surge zipped through him. He backed away and his knees bumped into the mattress, forcing him to sit and slosh hot tea on his hand. The scalding liquid brought him back to his senses.
Emma spooned chili into bowls and handed one to him. “Who would shoot you out of the sky?” She cradled her bowl in both hands, blowing the steam off the top.
“I have no idea.”
“As a border patrol agent, have you pissed off anyone lately?”
He shook his head. “Not anyone who would have the firepower that man had. He used a Soviet-made RPG from what I could tell. How the hell he got ahold of one of those, I don’t know.”
“How’d he know you’d be here?”
“I was responding to a call from my base that a man had crossed the U.S.-Canadian border on a snowmobile in this area. I can only assume it was him.”
“Could be someone with a gripe against the border patrol.”
“Yeah. I wish I could get word to my supervisor. They’ll be freaking out right about now. A missing helicopter and pilot is a big deal.”
“Would they send out a rescue team?”
“In this weather, I don’t see how.”
“Hopefully, it’ll be gone in the morning.” She stirred her chili. “If they don’t come looking for you, we’ll do our best to drive out and find a farmer with a landline so that you can call back.”
He nodded. “A lot of people will be worried. That’s an expensive piece of equipment to lose.”
“Seems to me that a skilled pilot is harder to replace.” Emma took a bite of her chili and chewed slowly.
Dante shrugged. Everything would have to wait until tomorrow. In the meantime... “It’s getting colder outside.”
“I have plenty of blankets for one bed.” She stared at her empty bowl and a shiver shook her body. “Without the generator, we’ll have to share the warmth.” Her gaze clashed with his, hers appearing reserved, wary.
His lips thinning, Dante raised his hands. “I’m sorry about the kiss. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”
Before he finished talking, Emma was shaking her head. “It’s going to get really cold. The only way to stay warm is to stay close and share body warmth.”
Dante swallowed hard, his body warming at the thought.
He set his empty chili bowl in the sink and took hers from her, laying it on top. “We’re adults. This doesn’t have to be awkward or a big deal,” he said while his body was telling him, Oh, yes it does!
Chapter Three (#ulink_8f739c12-801a-506d-a57c-154ff1a2805b)
Emma stared at the bed, her heart thumping against her ribs, her mouth going bone-dry. If it wasn’t so darned cold in the trailer, she’d sit up all night on the camp stool.
No, she wasn’t afraid of Dante. Frankly, she was afraid of her body’s reaction to being so close to the tall, dark Native American.
Too awkward around the opposite sex in high school, she’d focused instead on excelling in her studies. While girls her age were kissing beneath the bleachers, she was playing the French horn in band and counting the minutes until she could go back home to her books.
College had been little better. At least her freshman roommate in the dorm had seen some potential in her and shown her how to dress and do her hair and makeup. She’d even set her up on a blind date, which had ended woefully short when she had yanked her hand out of his when he’d tried to hold it.
For all her schooling, she was remarkably unschooled in the ways of love.
The wind moaned outside, sending a frigid chill raking across her body. Her hands shaking, she pushed the snow pants down over her hips and sat on the side of the bed to pull off her boots, slipping the pants off with them. Then she slid beneath the covers in her thermal underwear, sweater and turtleneck shirt and scooted all the way to the other side of the small mattress.
What man could lust after a woman covered from neck to feet? Not that she wanted him to lust after her. What would she do? Heaven help her if he should find out she was a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-six.
Emma lay on her back, the blankets pulled up to her chin and her eyes wide in the dim glow of the stove’s fire. “You’ll need to turn off the flame before we go to sleep.” Perhaps in the dark she’d felt less conspicuous and self-conscious.
Dante reached for the knob on the little stove and switched it off. The flame disappeared, throwing them into complete darkness.
The blanket tugged against her death grip, and the mattress sank beneath the big man’s weight. “Don’t worry. I promise not to touch you.”
Damn, Emma thought. With a man as gorgeous as Dante Thunder Horse lying next to her, what if she wanted him to touch her? Then again, one close encounter with her bumbling, shy inexperienced self and he’d disappear, just like he had the last time she’d gotten up the courage to go out for coffee with him.
He stretched out alongside her, his shoulder and thigh bumping against her.
A ripple of anticipation fluttered through her belly, followed by a bone-rattling shiver as the cold seeped through the three blankets, her sweater and thermal underwear.
“This is foolish. We won’t last the night in the frigid cold without heat.” He turned on his side and reached around her.
“W-what are you doing?” she squeaked as his hand brushed across her breast.
“We’re both fully clothed, which, by the way, isn’t helping matters. We’re both adults and we’re freezing. The best way to warm up is to share heat.”
“That’s what we were doing.”
“Not like this.” He rolled her onto her side, pulled her against him and spooned her backside with his front, his arm draped around her middle. “Better?”
Her pulse pounded so loud she could barely hear him, but she nodded and whispered, “Better.” Far too much better.
As she lay in the dark, cocooned in blankets and a handsome man’s arms, part of her was freaking out, the other part was shouting inside, Hallelujah!
“Let’s go to sleep and hopefully the storm will have passed by morning.”
Sleep? Was he kidding? Every cell in her body was firing up, while her core was in meltdown stages. Little shivers of excitement ignited beneath her skin with his every movement. His warm breath stirred the tendrils of hair lying against the side of her throat and all she could think of was how close his lips were to her neck. How likely was he to repeat the kiss that happened just a few moments ago?
If she turned over and faced him, would he feel compelled to repeat the performance? Did she dare?
“You smell nice. Like roses.” His chest rumbled against her back, his arm tightening around her middle.
“Must be my shampoo. It was a gift from a friend.” As soon as she said it, she could have kicked herself. Why couldn’t she just say thank you like any other woman paid a compliment?
“Am I making you nervous?” he asked.
“I’m not used to having a man...spoon me.”
“Seriously?” His thighs pressed against the backs of her legs and one slid across hers. “They were missing out. You’re very spoonable.”
She bit her bottom lip, afraid to admit she was a failure at relationships and scared off the men who’d ever made an attempt to get to know her. “I’m not good at this.”
“It’s as natural as breathing,” he said, his big hand spanning her belly. “Speaking of which, just breathe,” he whispered against her ear.
His words had the opposite effect, causing her breath to lodge in her throat, her heart to stop for a full second and then race to catch up.
Her arm lay over his and she wasn’t sure what to do with her hand. When she let it relax, it fell across his big, warm one.
“Your fingers are so cold,” he said.
She jerked her hand back. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Let me have them.” He felt along her arm until he located her hand and enveloped it in his. “Tuck it beneath your shirt, like this.” He slipped his hand with hers under the hems of her sweater and thermal shirt, placing them against the heat of her skin. “You’re as stiff as a board. Are you still cold?” He moved his body closer.
“Yes,” she lied. Inside she was on fire, her nerve synapses firing off each time he bumped against her.
His fingers curled around hers, his knuckles brushing against her belly. “You really haven’t ever snuggled with a man?”
Not trusting her voice, she shook her head.
“Then you haven’t found the right one.” Dante’s lips brushed the curl of her ear.
She lay for a while basking in the closeness, letting her senses get used to the idea of him being so near, so intimate.
Without the heat from the stove top, the trailer’s interior became steadily colder and Dante’s hand holding hers inched upward beneath her shirt. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”
Oh, heck no. If anything, she wanted him to move faster and cup her breasts with that big, warm hand. A shiver of excitement shook her.
“Still cold?”
“Yes.” So it was a half truth. The parts of her body against his were warm, the others were cold and getting colder.
“Sharing body heat works better when you’re skin to skin.” His knuckles nudged the swells of her breasts.
