She walked with him up the quiet road, telling him about Brett’s encounter with Robert. Nick stopped abruptly and took her by the arm, not ungently. “Do you ever ask yourself if you’re too brave by half?”
“I’m not reckless, Nick.” She faced him as he continued to hold on to her. “Black Falls and my family have had their problems this past year, but I’ve never felt unsafe here.”
“Problems? A woman was blown up in the lodge parking lot—”
“A killer, killed by the man who hired her to murder people, including my father. Yesterday…” She pulled her arm free of Nick’s grasp, aware of her reaction to him, the same mix of physical and emotional sparks that had landed him in bed with her eight months ago. “We don’t know what happened to Derek.”
“A kerosene lamp exploded and burned him to death.”
The raw words rocked her back onto her heels.
Nick didn’t relent. “You’re an amazing woman, Rose, as well as brave, but you’re fighting demons. You won’t let anyone help you. Your brothers, your friends—me.”
“I don’t even know you, Nick.”
He took her scarf, hanging loosely down her front, and tied it warmly under her chin. She felt the brush of his bare hands on her skin. “Maybe that’s why I’m here,” he said. “So you can get to know me.”
Her breath caught but she shook her head. “You’re here because of Jasper. If he hadn’t died last June…” She didn’t finish, shaking off any thought of the tragic death of the arson investigator. “What if Lowell Whittaker filled the kerosene lamp with Coleman fuel with the plan of killing his wife? I could see Vivian walking into the shed, lighting the lamp—”
“I never wanted to hurt you,” Nick said next to her.
She pretended not to hear him. “Fire scenes are difficult forensically. We might never know how the Coleman fuel—assuming that’s what caused the fire—got into the lamp.”
“Rose. Stop ignoring me.”
She plunged down the road, feeling the scarf rub against her chin, but stopped after a few yards, turning back to him. “You didn’t hurt me, Nick,” she said. “We had a good time together that night. Let’s not beat ourselves up over it.”
“Easy to say.” He walked up the road to her. “You were still dealing with your father’s death and Elijah’s near-death. You’d done some difficult searches. You almost didn’t get to the missing boy in time. The search for him put you dangerously close to the flare-up that killed Jasper.”
“You’re right about all that, Nick. I still have no regrets.”
“If I took advantage of you—”
“You didn’t. You’d just lost a friend yourself.” She raised her hand and skimmed her knuckles across his cheek. “I hope I didn’t take advantage of you.”
Nick winked at her, his serious mood over, or pushed down deep. “Sweetheart,” he said with a grin, “you can take advantage of me like that anytime.”
She groaned, shaking her head. “You started this conversation. I’m not letting you off the hook with a joke and off we go. You’re Sean’s best friend. We were both still reeling from some tough stuff that’d happened to us. There’s no way you and I could have made anything real happen.”
His dark eyes flashed. “What happened between us was very real.”
“We had a moment in time that came and went. We were there for each other. That’s how I think of what happened.”
“Were you also on the rebound from Derek Cutshaw?”
She bristled involuntarily, his question catching her off guard—as he’d intended, she realized. She kept her tone steady. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Fair enough.” Nick took off a glove and with one finger pushed strands of hair off her face, then let his fingertip trail across her cheek to her lower lip. “Anything you need or want, I’m here in the sticks with nothing to do.”
Without answering, she continued down the road at a brisk pace.
“Come sit by the lodge fire with me,” Nick said, easily keeping up with her. “We can play Scrabble. Join Ranger.”
“I have work to do. You must, too.”
“Yeah, sure. Calls to make, asses to kick.” Clearly he didn’t believe her. When they reached the lodge, he said, “I’ll be upstairs. Lunch?”
She nodded in spite of herself. “I’ll meet you in the dining room.”
As he trotted up the stairs, she noticed the shape of his hips, the energy with which he moved and the same sheer, unbridled masculinity she’d experienced during their night together.
She found Ranger right where she left him, enjoying the fireplace in the lobby. “Not a word, puppy dog. Not a word.”
Nine
N ick bought a decent winter hat and rented cross-country skis at the lodge shop, a short walk down from the main building, and headed for the groomed tracks in the meadow. Rose hadn’t joined him for lunch. He couldn’t say he blamed her. She’d disappeared with Ranger down a hall past the front desk, presumably to discuss winter fest plans with her sister-in-law. After seeing the old sugar shack, he’d decided he wouldn’t mind checking out winter fest. He’d pictured galvanized buckets hanging from maple trees, steam rising out of a bubbling pot, snow and bonfires.
Could be fun.
First they had to find Robert Feehan. Accosting Rose and avoiding questioning by the police weren’t helping him. He’d already bolted when Nick spotted him. He’d focused on getting to Rose, making sure she wasn’t hurt. He hadn’t gotten a good look at Feehan, but Scott Thorne had shown him a photo.
Not a glimmer of recognition, Nick thought as he put on his skis. He doubted he’d run into Feehan in California or anywhere else.
The air was brisk but not frigid, with little wind. Nick couldn’t ski worth a damn, but he did all right on groomed and backcountry trails. All right enough, anyway. He wasn’t skiing for the fun of it.
He needed to think.
He had the meadow to himself. No other lodge guests were on the trails. He skied hard, pushing himself. He remembered Rose last June during the frantic search for the missing eleven-year-old boy, and then for Jasper Vanderhorn. She’d been dedicated, tireless, determined and professional.
And also eaten alive by her own limitations.
Nick had thought he understood then, but he did even more so now that he’d been to Black Falls. She hadn’t been able to save her father. She’d been helpless when her brother Elijah was shot in Afghanistan. According to Sean, Rose had buried herself in her work that spring. When she arrived in Los Angeles in June, Nick had considered her off-limits, but that was nothing new. She was mountain man Sean Cameron’s little sister. A Vermonter. A search-and-rescue type. Nick had dated real estate agents, decorators, actresses and producers, but he’d been too devoted to his work with Cameron & Martini and as a smoke jumper to have a serious relationship.
In the aftermath of his long, hot days on the fire line and Jasper’s tragic death, there was Rose with those incisive blue eyes. That tight, fit body.
Sexy. Very sexy.
And there’d been vulnerability, need, heat—and a night of nonstop sex.
By daylight Nick had come to his senses. He had seized the moment with her in an attempt to distract himself from his own anger and grief. They’d both encountered death in their work, but Jasper’s death was different. He’d been an intense, dedicated arson investigator, and everyone knew he’d been targeted that day— murdered.
Nick could rationalize his behavior, but only to a point. Rose had needed him to keep his distance, and he hadn’t.
Now he wondered if she’d also been struggling to put whatever had happened between her and Derek Cutshaw behind her.
Nick paused at the top of a curving downhill stretch, with woods to the left and a snow-and-ice-encased rock outcropping to the right. He noted a spot in a drift off the trail where someone had obviously taken a tumble.
