Wilderness Passion. Lindsay McKenna
He drove the Jeep off the last foothill and they entered a small grassy valley. It was warmer there, and the sun-dappled meadow waved with patches of blue lupine, foxglove and larkspur. Desperately Libby concentrated on keeping back her tears. She couldn’t cry! Not there and especially not in front of him! She compressed her lips and waged an internal battle with her feelings. Why couldn’t she hate him? It would be so much easier that way. But she didn’t hate him. She liked him, dammit!
Libby was in such turmoil that at first she did not hear him speak. The instant his fingers touched the cotton fabric over her shoulder, she whirled, gasping. His brows drew down in displeasure at her reaction and he removed his hand. “You don’t have to act like you can’t stand my touch,” he growled. “I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated a woman in my life and I’m certainly not going to start now.” And then he smiled slightly. “Besides, you’re too beautiful and vulnerable to hate, Doctor. Let’s get one thing straight, shall we? Above everything else, I admire honesty. The people who live in the mountains come by it naturally. We don’t play games. Sometimes we say things that hurt others, but basically our intent cannot be misconstrued. You were born in the city and grew up where games are played to give and take what you want Out here you’ll get nowhere with that kind of screwed-up diplomacy. You started to ask me questions because you wanted something else of me. All you had to do was ask the real question straight out.”
Her brown eyes darkened with pain as she held his steady gaze. Anger and humiliation flooded her and she snapped, “I’m hardly ‘vulnerable,’ as you put it, at age twenty-nine, Mr. Wagner!”
He shifted the Jeep into higher gear range as they began to pick up speed over the flat dirt road that stretched toward a small group of office trailers in the distance. “Call me Dan,” he said, the hardness gone from his tone. It wasn’t a command but a request. “I called you vulnerable because every emotion registers so clearly in your golden eyes. You’re transparent. That’s what I like about you. You can’t hide a thing.”
She didn’t know what to do or say. His voice was suddenly caring, and that threw her even more.
“So, what do they call you at the office? Elizabeth? Betty?” he asked.
“No. Libby,” she answered, her voice toneless.
He nodded, his eyes narrowing as if he were thinking about it. Finally he murmured, “That fits you. It’s not a weak name, but it isn’t a totally independent one, either. A nice blend of femininity and strength.”
She stared at him, her brows knitting. “What?” she asked.
“Names. Haven’t you ever rolled a name off your tongue and noticed that it sounded strong, weak, soft or whatever?” He looked at her for a moment and then returned his gaze to the road.
“N-no, I can’t say I have,” she answered tentatively, thinking about the concept. She was amazed at the way he looked at the world.
“What was your ex-husband’s name?”
Libby sat there for a second, saying the name to herself. Then a small smile edged her mouth. “Harold.”
She began to laugh and he joined her. The tension eased between them as she sat back, enjoying the shared moment. Dan’s eyes were softer now, and she marveled at the azure intensity of them.
“I’ll refrain from making any observations about that name,” he intoned dryly.
Libby managed a quiet laugh. “Yes, I think you should. I’ve probably covered most of them myself.”
“How long did it last?”
Suddenly she didn’t mind answering his questions. “Five years. About three too long, if you want the truth,” she admitted.
“You’ve been free for a couple of years, then?”
“Yes, two years.”
“Like being single, Libby?”
She shivered inwardly as he spoke her name, his voice husky. It sounded incredibly beautiful. “Most of the time, yes,” she answered. “Sometimes...” She shrugged her shoulders. “It gets lonely.”
Dan pulled the Jeep to a halt at the first trailer. The office had once been white, but now it was coated with a thick coat of yellow dust He switched off the engine, leaning back and turning his gaze to her. His eyes seemed to drink in each facet of her face, and Libby experienced a frightening thrill and a sense of danger about his frank perusal. Finally he turned away and climbed out.
“Well, three weeks in these mountains are either going to make you feel loneliness like never before or a wonderful sense of contentment. I don’t know which.”
She slid out the door, glad that she had worn her casual shoes as the dust settled on the tops of them. Eagerly she looked around at the mountains that embraced the valley. The vivid blue of the spruces mingled with the darker color of evergreens. She spotted a small stand of white birch halfway up on a mountain opposite the road down which they had come. Everywhere the colors seemed vibrant, alive. It was as though the forest were inviting her to reach out, touch and enjoy. Looking across the hood at Dan, she grinned. “Somehow I think I’m going to love it.”
3
LONG INTO THE evening Libby worked on the business at hand in the command trailer. Large topical maps of the state land-grant area lay sprawled out over roughly hewn work desks as they went over the details of the coming exploration. Dan glanced at his watch and then over at her. She stood at his shoulder, elbows planted on the map, a notebook in front of her with scribbled notes in it.
“It’s nearly eleven o’clock,” he said.
Libby’s eyebrows moved up in surprise. “Already?” Where had the time flown? She stood, suddenly finding that she had been in one position far too long. She pressed her fingers against the small of her back, arching to ease the tension in her muscles. “I guess time goes by quickly when you’re having fun,” she murmured, picking up the notebook and closing it.
He snorted, rolling down his sleeves. The trailer had grown cold and he walked over to a stool, dragging his denim jacket off of it. “I don’t exactly call this fun,” he growled. “A lot of time is going to be wasted because of the damn licensing demands.”
“Modern-day chess game, I’m afraid,” she responded, meeting his gaze. “I know you don’t like games. Now I can understand why you were so angry when you came to my office.’’
“I’m still angry and I still don’t think this is necessary.”
She leaned over, picking up her newly purchased coat, which had an inner lining of goose down. In one of Dan’s brief letters he had included a list of items she should buy before coming to the mountains. She was grateful now for his instructions. “I wonder if I’ll ever get used to being unessential,” she commented dryly, suppressing a smile.
Dan walked to the door, opening it for her. “Lady, as far as I’m concerned, these next weeks will be like a vacation. I play tour guide and you do the work. Come on, let’s get you bedded down for the night.”
Libby stepped past him, barely brushing against him as she slipped through the narrow door. She was wildly aware of the heat radiating from his body. It was as if he were a rock that had been warmed by the sun all day and now, in the darkness, gave off the heat in return. She took the steps one at a time and stood at the bottom, watching Dan come down. Her attention was drawn to the sky, and a gasp of pleasure broke from her lips.
“Oh,” she said softly, turning to catch the panoramic view above them.
“What?” Dan halted at her shoulder, looking down at her.
“The sky,” she whispered in reverence. “Look at the stars! They’re so much closer.” She raised her arm, fingers extended upward. “I’d almost swear I could touch them from here. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Libby