A Home of Her Own. Brenda Novak
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like a burlap sack filled with rocks and marched into the hall.
LUCKY YELPED as she banged into Mike’s back. “What are you doing? Leave me alone! Put me down! You egotistical, spoiled, self-righteous son of a—”
“All the traveling you’ve done in the past six years certainly hasn’t improved your personality,” he broke in dryly.
Adrenaline finally loosened her tongue. “Kiss my ass, Mr. Hill. You and your whole family can go to—Ouch…” he’d started down the stairs, which made her bump against him with every step “…to hell—ow!—because I don’t care who you are or what you—ouch!—have, you’re no better than I am!”
“Grown up angry, have we?” His breathing became labored as he reached what she thought had to be the front door.
She tried to slug him or kick him, but she couldn’t do anything through the thickness of the bag. She couldn’t even tell him off properly, which was probably why he was chuckling.
“I can’t breathe in here,” she said. “Let me out!”
“You were breathing in there just fine before I arrived. As a matter of fact, that bag might be the only reason you’re still breathing. So relax. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want to relax!”
“You’ll thank me in the morning.”
“For kidnapping me?”
“I doubt feeding you and keeping you warm for one night qualifies as kidnapping.”
Keeping her warm for the night? When she was sixteen and visiting his horses, she accidentally saw Mike kissing Lindsey Carpenter in the barn. She’d replayed that scene in her mind a thousand times, but when she imagined it, she got to be the woman moaning softly as Mike held her against him. For a girl with a mother like Red, a girl who’d learned too much too soon, it was quite an epiphany to see something so sweet and gentle going on between a man and a woman. Watching Mike that day had mesmerized her. The memory of it still did. But the fact that being kept warm by him in exactly the same way appealed to her only added to her humiliation. She’d wanted to slip into town and fix up the house while quietly searching for her father. A simple plan. If only she’d known to expect the worst blizzard of the century. Then she wouldn’t be going home with Mike Hill—in a bag!
Mike’s boots thudded on the porch, telling her they’d moved outside, and the bumping started again as he descended more stairs. He slowed then, which meant he was probably wading through snow.
“This is ridiculous,” she cried.
He set her down on something small and narrow, something she couldn’t see or identify.
“What is this? Where are we?”
“Hold still.”
She continued to struggle until he let her head out of the top of the bag. The snow immediately lashed her cheeks, but now she could see that she was on a snowmobile and Mike was behind her.
“Sit tight, unless you feel like flying off at thirty miles an hour,” he said.
“I’m going back in the house,” she said, but before she could move, his arms clamped more tightly around her and she heard his voice, low in her ear.
“Lucky, that’s enough!”
She paused, shivering and breathing hard as the wind whipped at her hair. Why he was doing this? What did he care if she froze to death?
“You’re going to be fine,” he said, more gently.
The thumping of her heart seemed to echo in her ears. He didn’t understand. Of course he wouldn’t. She’d bet her life he’d never fantasized about her once. “How do I know that?” she said tentatively.
“Because I’ve got you.”
That was the problem.
“And if I refuse to go?”
“Trust me.”
More frightening words had never been spoken. Because she instinctively knew he was going to take care of her, at least for tonight.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I WANT IT HOT. Hot, hot, hot,” Lucky said, hugging herself and shivering as Mike adjusted the knobs on the tub.
Hot? Mike struggled to keep his eyes from straying to her bare legs. He’d told her to go ahead and get undressed while he drew her bath, but she’d been quicker at it than he’d expected. Now she was out of the spare bedroom she’d changed in and standing next to him wearing nothing but a towel—and he wasn’t too cold to notice.
Clearing his throat, he ran his hand under the faucet again. “You should bring your body temperature up slowly. This water’s lukewarm. Once you get used to it, add some more warm water, then more until you feel normal.”
“Isn’t that for people who have frostbite?” she said, her teeth chattering.
“You’re pale and shaky. I’m just being cautious.”
“Okay, okay.” She was so eager to get in, it looked as if she’d drop her towel before he could leave the room—which reminded him of that day eight years ago when he’d ridden past the lake while she was swimming. She’d called his name, unhooked the front clasp of her bikini top and flashed him. Out of nowhere. They hadn’t spoken in years. She was so young at the time, he’d felt only perturbed; more than anything, it had been an act of defiance. But he was pretty sure he wouldn’t mind if she flashed him again now that she was an adult. She might not be his favorite person, but he couldn’t deny that she’d turned into an incredible beauty. And the fact that she didn’t seem to be aware of her own good looks made her all the more alluring….
“I’ll have some sweats ready for you to wear when you get out,” he said.
“Thanks.” She stepped to the side so he could get past her and immediately focused her attention on the bath.
He allowed himself a quick glance over his shoulder at her bare back as she started to lower the towel, then closed the door behind him.
LUCKY COULD SMELL FOOD—wonderful, glorious food! If not for the scent of bacon and—she sniffed again—eggs and onions, she might never have gotten out of her warm bath.
Just as Mike had promised, Lucky found a pair of sweats sitting on a chair in the bedroom she’d used earlier. But donning Mike’s clothes seemed rather personal, considering who they both were, and his sweats were way too big for her. She decided to pull on one of the layers of clothes she’d peeled off before getting into the tub. She thought it might help her remember that she needed to keep up her defenses, that Mike was not her friend.
“There you are,” he said as she entered a large country kitchen with wood paneling and flooring and a table that could seat at least twelve people.
His eyes flicked over her stocking-clad feet, faded jeans and burgundy sweater; if he noticed that she’d chosen not to wear his sweats, he didn’t comment. “Hungry?”
She was famished but also leery of his sudden hospitality. “You didn’t have to cook,” she said.
“What have you had to eat?”
“Some trail mix, an energy bar and sunflower seeds.”
“That’s it? Since when?”
“Noon yesterday.”
“God, you must be starving.” He motioned to the table. “Sit down. It’s almost ready.”
She looked around as she made her way to the table, feeling as though she’d just infiltrated the enemy camp. She’d often wondered what Mike’s place would be like. While hiding in the barn, she’d seen people come and go from here, imagined