Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

work in progress

01 June 2004 (begun)

33-35 years old

CHAPTER ONE

“I’d use something else, if I were you.”

Startled, Katy Sellers put down the can of extra-strength deep-woods insect repellent and turned from the display at the register where she stood in line. A pair of green eyes that crinkled at the corners smiled down at her. Whoever this was, she could tell from his sun-streaked brown hair and lightly weathered skin—not unusual for this part of Washington state—he spent a lot of time outdoors. Her heart flip-flopped. She tried to ignore it, but couldn’t, feeling vaguely annoyed with herself. Now was not the time to be seduced by a pair of crinkly smiling eyes and shoulders so broad she could scale them.

“Try this,” he said, and reached for a bottle of citronella.

She’d meant to step aside has he reached, but instead found herself leaning toward him a little, thinking she’d caught an enticing trace of masculine scent. He stepped back and held the bottle toward her and smiled.

Katy felt her face coloring. Does he know I just tried to sniff him? What am I? A dog?

“It’s better for the environment, healthier for you, and it smells pretty good,” he said.

The citronella isn’t the only thing that smells good. But why did he have to be another of those new-age types? Hadn’t she already had her fill? She had no patience for holistic healing, meditation, ethanol gasoline, or even citronella oil. The last guy she had been with had poured all that malarkey down her throat, and had even tried to convince her to give up her air conditioning during the hottest summer on record. Ugh. No Thanks. She liked her modern conveniences too well to sacrifice them to the natural gods, thank you very much, and that included deep-woods insect repellent.

Though she already knew about citronella and what it smelled like, she took the bottle anyway. Just to be polite, she told herself. Their fingers touched and sent a bolt of electric heat up her arm and into her belly. She gasped and looked up at him. An emotion she couldn’t decipher had darkened his eyes, and his gaze had sharpened upon her. Had he felt it too?

Discomfited, Katy cleared her throat and returned her attention to the bottle. She opened it and smelled the contents. “Not bad,” she conceded and handed the bottle back to the stranger. Correction—handsome, hunky stranger. “Thanks for the advice,” she said.

Shuffling forward in line, she turned away to place her things on the conveyor belt, her heart hammering wildly. As she paid for her supplies, Katy felt the man’s presence behind her like a kind of heat at her back. No, Kate, she admonished herself. Not now, of all times. Don’t get distracted. There’s too much at stake. She bundled her bags in her arms and cast a quick glance backward. “Thanks again,” she said, and hurried away.

# # #

The trunk of her Cavalier already filled with the camping gear her best friend, Traci, had loaned her, Katy placed her groceries in the back seat, hoping she had everything she needed for the weekend. Sliding into the car, she shook her head and wondered, not for the first time today, what on earth she was doing out in the middle of nowhere in Washington state, going camping without a clue. She’d never been very far outside of Seattle, and left the Great Outdoors to those who knew how to tame it. She’d even managed to avoid it while she’d dated the all-natural guru, someone Traci and Robert—devout outdoorsy types themselves—had set her up with last year. But here she was, anyway, thirty years old and camping for the first time in her life. And doing it alone, which, surprisingly, suited her just fine.

Starting the car, she backed out and exited the parking lot, turning right toward the highway on-ramp. She had just enough time to realize she’d turned down a one-way lane before an old, battered Jeep Cherokee came barreling out of the shopping center parking lot and clipped her right fender. She slammed on her brakes, but not before there was a dreadful crunching noise as glass shattered and metal crumpled. What the hell?

Stopping the car, she paused a few seconds before getting out, which was enough time for the driver of the other car to step out of the SUV and come charging toward her. It was Nature Man from the check-out lane. Before he had a chance to tear into her, she slid out of her prized Cavalier—the first car she had bought with her own money—and said, “Don’t you look where you’re going?”

From where she stood, Katy could see his car was barely scratched, while hers had significant damage. She closed her eyes to stem the tide of outrage that threatened to overwhelm her. She didn’t need this stress on top of everything else. Not today.

Nature Man stopped short. “Me? I’m not the one driving the wrong way on a one-way street!” He pointed to a sign on the road, half-obscured by tree branches covered with the pale green of spring’s new leaves. “Didn’t you see that sign?”

“I do now. Hasn’t anyone out here heard of pruning shears?” Sweat dotted her forehead, and she wiped at it, feeling a little woozy from the unseasonable heat.

“Do you always drive with your eyes closed, or are you just—?” he began, but the expression on his face changed and he stepped toward her, his hand outstretched. “Maybe I should call someone—” He pulled out his cell phone, and started punching numbers.

“No, don’t call anyone. Please. Stay right there,” she said quickly, trying to remain calm. The last thing she needed was to complicate matters by getting the authorities involved. “Let me get my insurance information for you and maybe we can handle this just between us, without calling the police.”

She hurried out of his path to the passenger side of her car, where she rummaged through the glove compartment for her insurance card. She scribbled on a pad of paper and ripped out a sheet.

Granola Boy had come around the car toward her again and she rose to stuff the paper in his hand. “You don’t listen very well, do you?” she said. And there goes my premium.

The concern left his face. “I listen a hell of a lot better than you drive! Maybe you should wear glasses.”

Katy glared at him, taking in the khaki-brown of the uniform he wore—a regulation button-down dotted with official patches of some kind, knee-length shorts of the same color, well-muscled legs beneath, and hiking boots. Definitely a Grizzly Adams kind of guy. All the same, he’s kinda cute.

She felt a little dizzy and breathed deeply to clear her head. “Everything you need to know is on that piece of paper. If you need anything else, you can contact me at that number. What about yours?”

He watched her closely. “My what?”

“Your, uh, name and phone number and stuff.” She handed the paper and pen to him, and heat rose past her clavicle, up her neck, to settle in her cheeks. “For insurance.” She hoped he didn’t think she was picking him up.

He scratched out his information and handed it to her with a gleam in his eye that made Katy blush even more. He opened his mouth to say something, but she glanced at her watch and beat him to it. “Uh-oh,” she said, “I have to get out of here.” The campgrounds would close soon, and she needed to get there before sunset.

She settled behind the wheel of her car again, and tossed the pad of paper into the glove compartment without looking at it. She turned the ignition, when he yelled out, “Why don’t I give you a few minute’s head start? That way, I won’t be around the next time you cause an accident.”

She turned the car around, and, as she rolled past him, she said, “By the way, I hate citronella.” It was stupid and childish, but she couldn’t help herself.

It wasn’t until she’d reached the highway that Katy realized she had a splitting headache. She touched her forehead and was startled to find a large knot forming there. She had bumped her head, and hadn’t even realized it. How had that happened? On the steering wheel when Granola-Boy’s car had collided with hers? Or on the door-jamb when she’d gotten out of the car?

“Isn’t that just great?” She pulled off the highway into a gas station, where she bought aspirin and a bottle of water to swallow them down. Then she backtracked and bought a small bag of frozen peas for the goose-egg.

Back at her car, she surveyed the broken headlight and the crumpled metal around it, and shook her head. What a horrible way to begin the weekend. First, her editor had dumped a new project into her lap, essentially giving her the ultimatum that she do it, or she’d find herself back in her old copy editing job, rather than writing fluff articles for GlamTrends Magazine.

Second, the project was a subject about which she knew nothing—camping—and she’d had to scurry to get herself organized to do some first-hand research. She’d asked Traci to show her the ropes, but Traci had already made plans with Rob to go sailing this weekend. Traci had, however, agreed to lend her all the equipment she needed, and provided a few useful tips in the bargain.

And now this. Settling herself behind the wheel, she checked the map and realized her destination was closer than she’d expected. She should start seeing signs for the Mountain Valley State Park pretty soon. With the peas pressed firmly against her forehead, she set off once again for her destination. [[[[what happens to the peas later on? After this scene, they’ve mysteriously disappeared.]]]]

# # #

David Waters watched her drive away, feeling a mixture of interest, concern, and anger. What an infuriating woman. She made his heart pound, that was for sure, but he quickly found his anger dissipating to make room for a more appealing heart-thumping emotion: desire.

Her titian hair, that unusual reddish dark-blonde color, had first attracted him in the store like a moth to flame. But it was the depths of her hazel-gold eyes that captivated him and threatened to pull him under. The shock of her touch when her fingers had grazed his had shaken him to the core, sent his mind reeling. He’d wanted to bury his fingers in her thick hair, taste her lips, and do some naughty things with her.

And now this. It was an easy mistake to make, really, going the wrong way down this road. He’d been on Sheriff Hart’s case for weeks to get someone out to prune the branches along this stretch, and around that sign in particular. It was an accident waiting to happen, David had said. He should have just done it himself.

When her car disappeared from view, he glanced at the paper crumpled in his hand. “Katy Sellers,” he read aloud, tasting her name and liking the sound of it. Checking the area code, he saw she came from Seattle, a couple hours southwest of Mountain Valley.

He glanced at his watch. It was too late to call his insurance company, so he would take care of all that stuff in the morning. However, he had a few more errands to run before he had to get back to the office and close up shop, then hand the reins to the night shift. He shook his head and fingered the damage to his truck.

It could be worse. A dent in the fender, some scratched paint. The worse damage was to her car. He climbed behind the wheel and drove away, wondering what a city girl like Katy was doing way out here in the boon docks.

NEW FIRST PAGE:

The trunk of her Cavalier already filled with the camping gear her best friend, Traci, had loaned her, Katy Sellers placed her groceries in the back seat, hoping she had everything she needed for the weekend. Sliding into the car, she shook her head and wondered, not for the first time today, what on earth she was doing out in the middle of nowhere in Washington state, going camping without a clue. She’d never been very far outside of Seattle, and left the Great Outdoors to those who knew how to tame it. She’d even managed to avoid it while she’d dated the all-natural guru, someone Traci and Robert—devout outdoorsy types themselves—had set her up with last year. But here she was, anyway, thirty years old and camping for the first time in her life. And doing it alone, which, surprisingly, suited her just fine.

Starting the car, she backed out and exited the parking lot, turning right toward the highway on-ramp. She had just enough time to realize she’d turned down a one-way lane before an old, battered Jeep Cherokee came barreling out of the shopping center parking lot and clipped her right fender. She slammed on her brakes, but not before there was a dreadful crunching noise as glass shattered and metal crumpled.

Stopping the car, she paused a few seconds before getting out, which was enough time for the driver of the other car to step out of the SUV and come charging toward her. Before he had a chance to tear into her, she slid out of her prized Cavalier—the first car she had bought with her own money—and said, “Don’t you look where you’re going?”

From where she stood, Katy could see his car was barely scratched, while hers had significant damage. She closed her eyes to stem the tide of outrage that threatened to overwhelm her. She didn’t need this stress on top of everything else. Not today.

He stopped short. “Me? I’m not the one driving the wrong way on a one-way street!” He pointed to a sign on the road, half-obscured by tree branches covered with the pale green of spring’s new leaves. “Didn’t you see that sign?”

“I do now. Hasn’t anyone out here heard of pruning shears?” Sweat dotted her forehead, and she wiped at it, feeling a little woozy from the unseasonable heat.

“Do you always drive with your eyes closed, or are you just—?” he began, but the expression on his face changed and he stepped toward her, his hand outstretched. “Maybe I should call someone—” He pulled out his cell phone, and started punching numbers.

“No, don’t call anyone. Please. Stay right there,” she said quickly, trying to remain calm. The last thing she needed was to complicate matters by getting the authorities involved. “Let me get my insurance information for you and maybe we can handle this between us, without calling the police. Just stay there.”

She hurried out of his path to the passenger side of her car, where she rummaged through the glove compartment for her insurance card. She scribbled on a pad of paper and ripped out a sheet.

He had come around the car toward her again and she rose to stuff the paper in his hand. “You don’t listen very well, do you?” she said. “I thought I told you to stay where you were.”

The concern left his face. “I listen a hell of a lot better than you drive! Maybe you should wear glasses.”

Katy glared at him, taking in the khaki-brown of the uniform he wore—a regulation button-down dotted with official patches of some kind, knee-length shorts of the same color, well-muscled legs beneath, and hiking boots. She rolled her eyes. His appearance screamed Outdoor Dude all over. These guys were everywhere. Katy was definitely living in the wrong part of the country.

But the sexy crinkles around his eyes as he squinted in the sun, and the shoulders that were so broad she could scale them, made her heart palpitate in spite of herself. She felt a little dizzy and breathed deeply to clear her head, catching the unmistakable scent of citronella. “Everything you need to know is on that piece of paper. If you need anything else, you can contact me at that number. What about yours?”

He watched her closely. “My what?”

“Your, uh, name and phone number and stuff.” She handed the paper and pen to him, and heat rose past her clavicle, up her neck, to settle in her cheeks. “For insurance.”

He scratched out his information and handed it to her with a gleam in his eye that made Katy blush even more.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she glanced at her watch and beat him to it. “Uh-oh,” she said, “I have to get out of here.” The campgrounds would close soon, and she needed to get there before sunset.

She settled behind the wheel of her car again, and tossed the pad of paper into the glove compartment without looking at it. When she turned the ignition, he yelled out, “Why don’t I give you a few minute’s head start? That way, I won’t be around the next time you cause an accident.”

She turned the car around, and, as she rolled past him, she said, “By the way, I hate citronella.” It was stupid and childish, but she couldn’t help herself.

It wasn’t until she’d reached the highway that Katy realized she had a splitting headache. She touched her forehead and was startled to find a large knot forming there. She had bumped her head, and hadn’t even realized it. How had that happened? On the steering wheel when Granola-Boy’s car had collided with hers? Or on the door-jamb when she’d gotten out of the car?

“Isn’t that just great?” She pulled off the highway into a gas station, where she bought aspirin and a bottle of water to swallow them down. Then she backtracked and bought a small bag of frozen peas for the goose-egg.

Back at her car, she surveyed the broken headlight and the crumpled metal around it, and shook her head. What a horrible way to begin the weekend. First, her editor had dumped a new project into her lap, essentially giving her the ultimatum that she do it or she’d find herself back in her old copy editing job, rather than writing fluff articles for GlamTrends Magazine.

Second, the project was a subject about which she knew nothing—camping—and she’d had to scurry to get herself organized to do some first-hand research. She’d asked Traci to show her the ropes, but Traci had already made plans with Rob to go sailing this weekend. Traci had, however, agreed to lend her all the equipment she needed, and provided a few useful tips in the bargain.

And now this. Settling herself behind the wheel, she checked the map and realized her destination was closer than she’d expected. She should start seeing signs for the Mountain Valley State Park pretty soon. With the peas pressed firmly against her forehead, she set off once again for her destination.

CHAPTER TWO

Two booths guarded the entrance to Mountain Valley State Park. One was closed, so Katy approached the one on the right and pulled up to the window. She smiled at the khaki uniform inside. He was a soft-bellied man who sat on a tall stool, eating from a bag of chips.

“Help you?” he asked.

“Yes, I’d like to go camping,” she said, wincing at her awkwardness. Did people say that?

The man smiled. “Do you have a reservation?”

“No. Do I need one?”

The man cleared his throat and shifted his weight on the stool. “Well, this is a reservation-only state park, ma’am. Meaning, if you want to camp, you have to phone or write ahead. Then we send you a confirmation notice that you bring with you when you check in.”

She stared. Katy would never have guessed campgrounds took reservations, and the fact must have slipped her friend’s mind when she recommended this place. The idea seemed somewhat absurd to her.

“But I drove all the way out here from Seattle. You must have something for me. Can’t you bend the rules just this once,” she squinted at his nametag, “Ted?” She smiled at him and batted her eyelashes, suppressing the urge to scream and wring someone’s neck. It didn’t matter whose. Just anyone’s.

“I’d really like to, but I can’t. My boss...”

Katy smiled even wider. “What’s your boss’s name?”

Ted cleared his throat and glanced at a car that had pulled up behind Katy’s. “David Waters, ma’am.”

“Well, Ted. Why don’t you give Mr. Waters a call? I’m sure we can work something out.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to do that,” he said, motioning to the other vehicle.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s in the truck behind you.”

Katy glanced in her rearview mirror. A tall, khaki-uniformed man emerged from a deep-green Jeep Cherokee and walked toward them. The SUV bore a telltale dent in the fender, and Katy swallowed. “Oh, no.”

“Is there a problem, Ted?”

Granola-Boy’s voice rolled over her senses like warm caramel. But a boy he ain’t, that’s for damn sure, she thought to herself.

“Yes, Mr. Waters,” said Ted, rubbing the back of his neck. “This lady here wants to get in to camp, but she don’t have a reservation.”

 “We’re a reservations-only park, ma’am,” he began, a small smile curving the corners of his lips.

Katy sighed, ignoring the smile that no doubt charmed many a feminine heart. She concentrated instead on the frustration and anger that fought to get the better of her. “Yes, I understand that now. But I drove over two hours to get here. You see, I’m writing an article on—”

“You’re a reporter?” His smile disappeared and his gaze hardened.  

“Well, a journalist, really. Sort of. I work for a magazine—”

“I’m sorry, we can’t help you. You can find accommodations at the motel about ten miles north of here.” He turned away, and Katy felt her heart sink into her shoes.

She reached out of the window and touched his arm. It felt warm beneath her fingertips and she didn’t want to let go. “Look,” she said. “I’m just trying to write an article. It’s a new assignment for me.” She looked deep into his green eyes, feeling as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of her. “Please.”

“We don’t normally bend the rules, ma’am. We can’t just let anyone in because they didn’t do their research before coming here.”

He stared hard at her. She cringed and looked away. Some journalist she was. “I could lose my job.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t be responsible for that. Rules are rules. I could lose my job, too.”

“Please.” She gripped his arm tighter and felt his muscles jump beneath her fingers.

David tugged his arm away and seemed to deliberate for a moment. No one spoke while he shook his head and stared at the ground. “All right,” he said, finally. “I shouldn’t be doing this, but what’s the harm? Let her in, Ted.”

Ted put down his chips and plugged away at his computer. “How long are you staying?”

“Till Sunday,” Katy said, feeling relief spill over her.

“Okay,” said Ted, as he continued to type. “That’s fifteen per night for the campsite and five per night for the car. That comes to forty, total.”

Katy blinked at him. “What?”

“Forty dollars.”

“I don’t have forty dollars.” She had spent most of her cash on the bags of food that sat in the backseat and hadn’t thought to withdraw more. Why hadn’t Traci told her there would be a fee? She wondered how a place could charge so much when you not only provided your own bed and your own food, but your own roof, for heaven’s sake. It defied logic.

Glance over at David, she saw him smirk and roll his eyes at Ted before turning away. She fought an overwhelming urge to get out of her car and smack him, hard.

Ted scratched his head. “We, ah, we take credit and debit cards.” He stuffed another potato chip in his mouth.

Katy pulled her wallet from her purse and handed him a credit card. She would be sure to put it on her expense report. “I’d like a receipt, please.” Her voice sounded tense, even to her own ears.

“Coming right up. Here’s a map. And here,” Ted said, circling a number along a trail, “is your site. Drive slowly and watch for hikers and animals. It’s about a ten-minute drive from here. Enjoy your stay.”

Katy took the map from him and studied it. She had just rolled up her window and started to move forward when there was a sharp rap on the glass. Startled, she hit the brakes, turned her head. David stood peering in at her, that small smile teasing his lips again. His brown hair fell across his cheekbones in shaggy waves. Her fingers tingled to brush it aside, to feel its apparent silky thickness.

He rapped on the window again, and Katy, realizing she had been staring, rolled it down.

“Your receipt,” he said, handing her a slip of paper smudged by Ted’s greasy fingers.

She reached for it, avoiding his touch, and a flush warmed her face. “Thanks,” she said roughly, and drove on.

# # #

When he had pulled up behind the blue Cavalier, David couldn’t believe it could possibly be her in the car ahead. He’d gotten out not just to see what the holdup had been about, but to see if the driver really was the woman from the grocery store in town. His heart lurched in his chest when he saw that it was, indeed, the same woman. Her gaze had rooted him to the spot when she’d seen him, her eyes widening, making her heart-shaped face surprisingly doe-like.

This early in the season, the park was nearly barren of campers and there were plenty of sites available. He would have let her in, in any case—he was not above making exceptions for an attractive woman—but not before she understood the rules. He was, after all, the head ranger, and it was his responsibility to make such things clear.

But then she’d said she was a reporter.

Reporters turned him cold. Whenever there was a death, mauling, or fire in these parts, reporters came down in droves, trampling the new growth, leaving nothing but more destruction and the detritus of their trade: candy wrappers, cola cans, take-out empties, newspapers, heartache—you name it, they left it. And it fell to him to repair the damage.

He rubbed his arm where Katy had touched him. His skin still tingled from her touch. Every instinct told him this woman was trouble. The fact that she was a reporter simply made it worse. She appeared inexperienced, and very plainly not the nature-type—her car, her clothing, her profession, her very attitude screamed Urban Dweller. He doubted she had ever set foot in a wood before, not to mention camping in the middle of a large, forested nature park inhabited by wild animals of both the human and non-human variety. Someone should keep an eye on her to make sure she didn’t kill herself. Or anyone else, for that matter.

He shook his head to clear it, then looked up into the sky. The setting sun had turned the heavens orange and purple and a scattering of clouds dotted the horizon. Night would be coming soon.

“Ted, why don’t you close up shop now? It’s nearly dark. We won’t be getting anyone else in tonight.”

“Will do, Mr. Waters. Anything else I can do for you before I go?”

“No. Just pack up and go when you’ve closed down the computer and the register. And don’t forget the bank deposit.”

Ted started counting the money. “Not many campers today, ‘cept for a few families in for the weekend. And the usual backpackers. I just saw Andy a few minutes before that lady was here. He’s waitin’ for you at the office.”

“Great. Thanks.” Katy. Kate. Kiss me, Kate. Now there was a creature worth taming, he found himself thinking in spite of himself. “Go ahead and tell him I’m on my way.”

“Okee dokee. Have a great evening, Mr. Waters.” He paused a moment. “Any plans this weekend?”

“What?”

“Any plans?”

David blinked and scratched his head. “Plans for what?”

Ted laughed. “It’s your weekend off. Remember? You have any plans?”

“No, not really,” David answered, smiling. He’d meant to do a little fishing. But when he thought of Katy’s helplessness, he shuddered. He didn’t want to put his forest in danger because a city-girl reporter didn’t know how to handle herself. “I’m not sure. Maybe.” Maybe he could fish and keep an eye on her?

Ted chuckled to himself. “She was really something, wasn’t she?”

“Who?”

Ted raised his eyebrows. “That lady who was here before. The one without the reservation. The knockout.” He turned his head but not quick enough to hide the knowing smile on his face from David. “You know ‘xactly who I mean.”

David smiled, too. For all his apparent simplicity, Ted was really quite canny. “Good night, Ted. Have a good weekend.”

“You, too, Mr. Waters. Have yourself a very good weekend.” He resumed counting the money. “You deserve it.”

Do I? David wondered. Do I really?

# # #

True to Ted’s word, Katy easily found her campsite within ten minutes, in spite of the encroaching darkness. She parked her car and got out to look around. There wasn’t much to it. Just a bare patch of ground nestled among the trees off the main trail. She took a deep breath. The scent of pine suffused the warm May air, and she smiled at its welcome.

Opening the trunk of her car, she removed the tent and carried it to the flattened area she imagined many tents had stood here before, causing her to experience a certain kinship with other campers. She felt at peace, alone, yet at one with nature and the people who enjoy the outdoors. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

But that feeling quickly dissipated as she spread open the tent to confront black, jointed rods and nylon loops and thin metal tent stakes. She searched through the tent bag for instructions, but found none.

I’m a smart woman. I can figure this out. She worked diligently, sliding poles through loops, bending and straightening them, driving stakes into the dry earth until she noticed there was little light left to see by. Night would come quickly and she needed to think about a campfire. She would have to be satisfied with the tent until morning, when she could work at it again. The important part was that she could crawl into it and have a modicum of shelter.

Dropping the plastic mallet she’d used to hammer the stakes into the ground, Katy returned to the car to retrieve her flashlight. Then, she walked around the periphery of the site to collect wood for the fire. She would need kindling, that much she knew, and chose what seemed to her to be a suitable selection of leaves and branches. Propping the flashlight against a bench—using a rock to keep it from rolling off—she aimed its beam toward the fire pit where she assembled her collection. But when she tried to light it, the leaves burned too quickly and a column of smoke welled up, causing her to cough and choke. The wood did not light. She waved at the smoke, unsure what to do to next.

“Need any help?”

She whirled around to see David walking toward her. Great. Just what I need. More hassle.

“No, I don’t. Thank you.” She turned away from him, lit another match and put it to the pile. She watched with dismay as the match burned out, and she rose to gather more leaves, pushing them onto the pile of sticks.

David approached and squatted beside her to watch, resting his elbows on his knees. She caught a whiff of his scent and stifled a groan. Underneath the fading odor of citronella, he had a clean masculine smell that caught Katy’s attention, in spite of herself.

“That won’t work,” he said. “Those pieces are too big to catch. You need to start with tinder, not kindling.”

When she looked at him blankly, he explained. “Tinder is the little stuff. Twigs.”

He took hold of her hand and measured her pinky between his thumb and forefinger. Katy’s heart beat a little harder.

“They should be about this size. Maybe a little bigger. After you get a little fire started, you can start adding the larger stuff, like sticks.” He motioned toward the pile Katy had already assembled. “That’s the kindling. After the kindling come larger branches, and finally a log or two. Then you have a fire.”

He held onto her hand a little longer than necessary, she felt, then let it drop and strode into the trees. He broke off dead, dry twigs here and there, and then scooped up a handful of pine needles. He arranged it all across two larger pieces of wood he’d placed at the bottom of the fire pit, and applied a match to the dry needles underneath. They lit immediately. A small flame licked over the tinder.

“I hope you have more matches than this.” He handed her the nearly empty book. “There are only two left in this one.”

Slowly, he added larger pieces of wood until he had a good fire blazing, and they stood back to admire his work. “All set. Just add more wood now and again, and let it burn down before you go to sleep. And be careful of flying sparks.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I don’t know much about this.”

“Not a problem.” He had turned to leave when his eyes rested on the tent. “What is that? Is that where you’re sleeping?” He choked back laughter.

Katy felt the too-familiar warmth spread across her face again. “Yes,” she said, shifting her weight and planting a hand on her hip. “What’s wrong with it?” As if it wasn’t obvious.

“Nothing, if you want it to fall down on you in the middle of the night. Don’t you know how to pitch a tent?” He looked again at the jumble of nylon and rods, scratched his head and started toward it.

“Hey, what are you doing?” she called out.

“I’m going to fix your tent, if you don’t mind.”

The tone of his voice, so superior and male, made her bristle. “As a matter of fact, I do mind. I like it just the way it is. That’s the way I always pitch my tents.”

David cast her a dubious look, then reached toward the mess and began sorting it out.

“I said don’t! Haven’t you done enough for one day? Can’t you just leave me alone?” She didn’t need rescuing, especially by the man whose car she’d just rammed and to whom she would soon owe quite a bit of money in repair costs.

He looked at her, bewildered, both of them surprised by her outburst. “I was only helping.” His voice was quiet, a low rumble in the air. A small frown wrinkled his forehead and he looked at the ground between his feet. “I’ll just leave you to it. You obviously have it all under control.”

Katy sighed and glanced toward the trees. She hadn’t meant to insult him. It was already dark, and she could use the help. She took a deep breath and swallowed her pride. “No, don’t go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and bit his lower lip.

“I— I’d like your help. Please.” She felt she’d done a lot of begging for one day. Maybe she should just tattoo the word “please” right across her forehead.

He nodded slowly and stared at her. “All right, then. Since you asked so nicely.” His voice was stern, but his eyes glittered in the firelight and his mouth twitched, concealing a smile. He turned around and bent to the task of erecting the tent.

Katy stood where she was and watched his shoulders move beneath his shirt, his leg muscles flexing, as he organized the rods. She tried not to admire his backside when he bent to feed the rods through the loops and mold the tent into its intended shape. She knew she should pay closer attention to what he was doing, but he was so much more interesting to watch.

“Thanks,” she said, when he was finished. “I really appreciate it.”

She wanted to apologize for their run-in earlier that evening. But as she stepped over a log David had placed near the fire, she tripped and fell to her hands and knees at his feet, where he stood at the open tent door.

“Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling beside her. He took her arms and helped her to her feet, marveling at her slightness.

“I’m such a klutz,” she said. “I can’t do anything right, today.”

David felt a sudden, deep affection for her. He brushed away a tendril of red-blonde hair from her eyes. “We all have bad days. It’s not such a hot one for me, either. Scratched up my truck in a car accident earlier. Some crazy person driving the wrong way on a one-way street.”

They laughed quietly. She looked up into his eyes, and her smile faded. He stepped closer, so there was only a breath between them and he could feel her heat. Her lips parted, and he wanted to kiss them.

She swallowed and looked down at her hands. The palms were dusty and scratched from her fall. “I’m sorry for all that, earlier. It’s just that, today, I was given this assignment at the last minute and—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He took her hands in his, inspecting her palms. They were so small. So soft. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Not really.” She stepped away from him, drawing her hands away. “Just my pride.” She stepped back from him, cleared her throat and smiled nervously.

He took that as his cue to go. “Well then, I’ll leave you to yourself to lick your wounds. Have a good night, and enjoy your stay. If you need any more help, you can contact someone at the main office down the road. Steve’s in charge this weekend, so you’ll probably run into him more often than not. He can get you more matches.”

She smiled, and his heart raced.

“Will you be there?” she asked.

“No. It’s my weekend off. First one in over a year, in fact.” He’d been working himself too hard ever since the accident. Even he would admit that, now.

“Well, then, enjoy your weekend.” Her voice was soft, a shimmer of fairy bells in the night, laced with a shade of disappointment.

He wanted to hold her, to feel her curves pressed against his body, her lips on his. He’d been too long away from a woman’s company, he chided himself. It wouldn’t do to start mooning over one, now. Especially that one. He turned to leave, but paused when he reached the main road. “What kind of article are you working on, anyway, way out here in the woods?”

He could almost see her blush when she said, “A how-to for beginning campers,” then slapped at a mosquito.

David laughed, and it felt good. Almost too good. “Lots of luck!”

He reached the road and walked toward his cabin on the other side of the main office. It struck him that it was no mistake that Ted had given her a site so close to main office—and to David’s cabin. He was a sharp one, that Ted. He’d been telling David for months that it was high time to get out and start living again.

Ever since Maddy had died eighteen months ago, he’d either holed up in his cabin, or had thrown himself into his work. He didn’t have to think about things when he worked. Thinking led to guilt, and guilt had nearly consumed him after his wife’s death. No, it wouldn’t do to go sniffing after attractive reporters. Not after what had happened last time.

CHAPTER THREE

Katy awakened to the twitter of birds singing in the trees. As pleasant as that might have been, she did not appreciate it through her fog of misery. She had not slept well. Noises had kept her awake most of the night—a howl in the distance, the rustle of foliage nearby. Once, she had heard a strange snuffling sound at one corner of her tent, followed by movement beneath the floor that looked suspiciously snakelike. The rest of the night she’d spent slapping at mosquitoes, but was too nervous to venture to her car in the dark of night to get the insect repellent, flashlight or no.

Groggy and fuddled, she unzipped the door and poked her head through the flap. Between the trees, she could see a circle of blue sky and scudding clouds. The rich aroma of pine greeted her on a warm breeze.

Today would be a good day for a swim. She withdrew her head to search for her bikini. Undressing, she slipped it on and covered herself with an old, frayed, white-cotton oxford shirt, and stepped outside.

She knew there was a washhouse somewhere, and—with her pack slung over one shoulder—set off down the path in search of it. She walked for a few minutes and just when she thought she had gone the wrong direction, she rounded a bend and there it was. The long, no-frills, cinder-block building squatted in the middle of a large, grassy clearing. Very utilitarian in appearance, it boasted toilets and showers—with separate entrances for men and women—and even a picnic area behind.

Other campers milled about, mostly women cleaning up after breakfast, their young children underfoot. She heard the sound of showers, but thought she’d wait till after her swim before she took one. Opening the door to the women’s side, she sidestepped a small boy shrieking in mock terror as he darted past, followed closely by someone who might have been his twin sister. The girl held her freshly scrubbed hands before her as she yelled, “Boogies! Boogies! Boogies!”

The mother emerged, nearly running headlong into Katy, and shouted, “Suzie! Timmy! Stay close! Don’t run out of my sight!”

Katy smiled and positioned herself in front of the long stainless-steel sink to brush her teeth. Staring into the stained, polished-metal mirror above, she peered at the purple-and-blue bump on her forehead. She touched it and winced at its tenderness. That would stay a while, she knew.

She poked at the ugly, red blemish with a fingertip, testing its ripeness and causing it to itch. That was no pimple. It was a mosquito bite. Awareness of the one seemed to trigger the others to itch, too, and she soon found herself scratching at her arms and legs as desperately as she had done through the night. There was even a bite in the crease between her butt and upper thigh that was particularly bothersome. Giving her backend one more hearty scratch, she spat, rinsed her mouth, and left the washhouse.

Back at the campsite, she retrieved the car keys from her backpack in the tent, and rummaged through the sacks of food and supplies which still sat in the backseat. Traci had mentioned to keep her food packed away and well out of site. Katy had been too tired to pack the cooler the night before, and had left the goods in the bags. She didn’t see the immediate necessity of changing things over, and decided she’d do that when she got back from her swim before it got too warm. If what Traci had said was true, the frozen cooler packs inside should still be cold.

Tossing a few of the more perishable items in the ice chest, she rooted through the bags until she found what she wanted. She pulled out a bottle of water and the cream-cheese bagel she’d gotten from the bagel place near the grocery in town, but couldn’t find the bug spray. She searched the bags again, then sat on her heels. Oh, don’t tell me. She’d returned the deep-woods spray to the shelf when David had first spoken to her in the grocery store, and subsequently had forgotten to retrieve it before she’d made her purchase. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. She would take her swim, shower, then run to the main office to get some matches, and see if there was a place on-site where she could pick up insect repellent. If not, she’d have to run back into town.

She closed and locked the car door, then settled herself on a log bench near the cold fire pit. As she chewed her bagel, she thought about her article and how she could get the hang of rough living. It wasn’t as bad as she’d made it out to be, even as she cast a wary eye toward the perfectly assembled tent and the cold fire pit. David had made both tasks look so easy. The flames had died down in the night, and she wondered whether she could build her own fire that evening, or if she would have to rely on David’s good timing to once again save her skin? I wonder if he could stoke other fires just as well?

She pushed the thought away. This was not a vacation. She had a job to do, and she needed to stay focused. Absolutely no romantic diversions allowed. She stared into the trees, scratching herself, daring a discreet go at the fold under her left butt cheek, though reason told her no one was watching.

 Swallowing the last of her bagel and taking another swig of water, Katy got up and headed toward the trail behind her tent. According to the map, the trail led directly to the lake. She ducked into the tent again to grab her towel, then picked her way down the hill, slapping at mosquitoes and other bugs that ambushed her from the trees. She tried to concentrate on her article, but kept seeing David’s eyes, and how they crinkled in that sexy way when he smiled.

When she reached the edge of the tree line, she stopped to admire the view. The lake stretched before her, blue and glistening in the morning sun, water lapping softly at the shore. The Cascade Mountains rose in the distance, majestic and snow-capped, jutting proudly toward the sky. She walked along the shoreline until she found a little beach in an alcove, where she spread out her blanket and kicked off her tennis shoes. The late-May sun was hot and she lifted her face to it, anticipating a lovely swim.

At the water’s edge, she dipped in a toe and gasped. It was freezing. She pulled the oxford shirt close around her and shuddered. Maybe I’ll just take a little walk.

 Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed the dog barking in the background, and the resonant timbre of a man’s voice. As the sounds came closer, however, they drew her out of her reverie, demanding her attention. She turned in time to see a huge, shaggy beast charging toward her, its tongue lolling from its mouth. It lumbered toward her, rose up on its hind legs and planted its huge front paws on her shoulder to lap at her face. Katy screamed, stepped backward into the frigid water, and lost her balance. Both she and the dog fell into the water, struggling in the shock of the cold.

“Farley!” shouted the masculine voice nearby. The sheepdog snuffled Katy’s face, licking her chin and ears.

Infuriated, Katy pushed helplessly at the dog, struggling to scramble from under the its persistent curiosity, and out of the cold water.

The man struggled Farley away from her, and threw a stick he’d found nearby. The dog accepted the distraction and bounded after it, his long, wet fur flying. The man bent toward her. “Are you all right?”

She looked up and squinted at his silhouette against the sunlight. She shook her head in response, unable to find her voice.

Unnerved, David stared down at her sitting hip-deep in water, amid sand, flat rocks, and tiny snail shells, wet to the skin. The thin, white-cotton oxford clung to her slender curves. Through it, he could see her flimsy bikini, the outline of her full breasts. Beads of water rolled down the pale skin of her thighs, and as he watched with fascination, goose bumps rose on her flesh. “A little early in the season for a swim, isn’t it?” he said, finally, offering her his hand.

She took it, and he noted, with interest, the fiery temper that lighted her eyes.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t you have a leash law around here? That beast could’ve killed me!” she said as he helped her to her feet.

He laughed and shook his head. “Old Farley? He’s harmless. He doesn’t usually approach strangers. Obviously, he likes you.” And so do I. He resisted the temptation to push away the wet hair that clung to her cheeks, around her eyes, at the corner of her mouth, and wondered what the water that beaded along her jaw-line tasted like. He realized he was still holding her hand and glanced down at it, delicate and alabaster in his rough, browned one.

Katy snatched her hand away and pulled her now-see-through button-down shirt closer to her body. A blush crept up her chest, neck, staining her face. David watched, intrigued.

“You should keep that thing on a leash. He’s a menace.” She moved away from the water’s edge toward the spot where she had laid her towel. Clutching at her arms, she started to shiver, in spite of the warm sun.

He reached her towel before she did and picked it up. As he wrapped it around her shoulders, he marveled at her slightness.

“I can do it myself, thank you,” she snapped and pulled away from him.

Her curtness reminded him she was a reporter, and he’d do well to keep his distance. “Yes, well. I’m sure you can. I’ll leave you to yourself, then. Farley, come!”

If she wanted to play it that way, he was more than willing to let her. After all, reporters were little more than blood-sucking leeches preying on the misfortune of others. Still, he thought as he glanced back, watching her bend over to pick up something from the sand, she would bear keeping an eye on. He hated to see an inexperienced woman, one who appeared so frail and tender as she did, out in the park alone.

He sighed, shaking his head to ward off the rising sense of sentimentality that often plagued him. He retrieved his fishing rod and tackle where he’d dropped them, then stalked off toward the boathouse where his boat was moored. He couldn’t bother himself with reporters in distress. Right now, he had some fishing to do.

“Boy, of all the nerve!” Katy fumed as she trudged down the path toward her tent. She slapped at a mosquito and nearly tripped over a fallen tree limb. “Dammit!” This place was hell, of that she was certain. Already the temperature had risen and a sheen of sweat coated her skin, driving the mosquitoes and gnats and flies wild with joy.

At her tent, she grabbed her backpack again and headed toward the washhouse. There, she peeled off the cotton button-down and stepped into the shower still wearing her bikini. It wasn’t her ideal method of showering, but modesty prevented her from completely stripping down. What if someone got confused, a man, and walked in—in spite of the clearly labeled entrances on opposite ends of the building? What if there was a forest fire, and she had to get out quickly? She would be better off in her bikini than completely nude and vulnerable.

Under the lukewarm spray from the shower head, Katy recalled the big dog charging toward her, its awkward loping gallop, its huge front paws on her shoulders, knocking her down, its cold nose snuffling at her ear. She stifled a laugh. Really, it was pretty funny. It was obvious the dog hadn’t meant to startle her, and in normal circumstances she wouldn’t have overreacted. But these weren’t normal circumstances, were they? Her job was at stake. This was her chance to prove herself to her editor, and if she failed this assignment, she might not get another chance. She didn’t intend to stay at GlamTrends forever, but if she couldn’t write meatier articles now, she would have nothing to show for herself when it was time to move on. She’d have to start all over again, from the bottom, up.

She sighed, turning her face into the water, massaging shampoo into her hair. She was being unfair to David, she knew. He didn’t deserve her defensiveness. It wasn’t his fault she had to write these silly articles. It wasn’t his fault she knew nothing about outdoor living, and had no interest in it whatsoever. He was only trying to help. Her soapy hands ran down her body, over her breasts and abdomen. She would try to be nicer to him.

She conjured his face, the sharps creases in the corners of his eyes when he smiled, his full lips. Yes, she would definitely be nicer to him. Perhaps she would even allow herself to enjoy a little romance, while she was at it. She closed her eyes and smiled as she lathered her slim body, her heart beating a little faster. She wondered when he would show up again. Hopefully, she hadn’t scared him away.

She turned off the water, pulled a terrycloth towel from her bag, and ran through her agenda for the day as she dried off. First, she needed to stop at the main office for matches. Hopefully, she would also find some insect repellent without having to leave the park. Then, she would explore the trails a little, and investigate the activities available at the park, perhaps talk to some of the employees while she was at the office. Maybe set up an interview with one of them before she returned to Seattle the next day. And who better to interview than the head ranger, himself? Her heart gave a leap and she bit her lip, grinning to herself.

Quickly, she took off her bikini and slipped into clean clothes, a pair of white jogging shorts and a pastel pink designer t-shirt. Then, stuffing her wet things into the bag, she stood before the polished-metal mirror and began working her magic. She was glad she’d brought her hair dryer. With expert application gleaned from the many how-to articles she’d written over the years, she managed to hide the ugly bruise and mosquito bites on her face. Scratching her backside again, she only wished she had something to relieve the itching!

CHAPTER FOUR

Lost in thought, David reeled in the line and cast again. He’d been on the lake for a few hours and had already caught two fat bass, which hung from a chain over the side of the boat. He had all he needed for dinner that night, and one to spare for a rainy day, but he’d kept on. Usually, the solitude and repetitive motion of casting, jigging, and reeling was a comfort to him, freeing his mind to wander over other venues of thought than those that had plagued him since his wife’s death. Since his neglect had killed her. Out here in the middle of Lake Mercy, he found peace.

But not today.

Today, Maddy haunted him. After her death, David swore to himself that he would never let himself fall in love with another woman. Love blesses. Love sours. And then love kills. Never again, he promised. Never. Their marriage already had been on the rocks when Maddy had died, and divorce had been imminent, in all likelihood. But since her death, the few times David felt the stirrings of desire for another woman, he felt disloyal. As he did now. He knew he simply did not deserve the chance to love again. He hit the side of the boat in anguish. Probably just scared away all the fish within a two-mile radius, he thought to himself.

A stiff breeze ruffled the waves of his hair, and the boat rocked on the suddenly choppy water. The wind held a hint of chill and he glanced skyward. Over the northwest horizon loomed a dark bank of clouds. From the weather reports he’d gotten from the weather service that morning, he knew the cold front heralded terrible weather, but it wasn’t expected until later the next day. He looked again to the darkening sky. There was no way the weather would hold that long. The clouds were moving fast, already on this side of the mountains. The weather surely would break within the hour.

He reeled in his line and carefully unhooked his favorite lure, returning it to its slot in his oversized tackle box. He stuck his rod into its round, plastic carrying case, and secured it and the tackle box in the bottom of the boat, before yanking on the pull cord of the Evenrude motor that hung from the back of the boat. Nothing. He pulled again. Still nothing. After a minute or two of diligence, the old motor finally sputtered to life. He cursed the thing, making the umpteenth mental note to have it checked out and tuned up, then headed toward the dock on the other side of the cove where he’d run into Katy earlier that day. Or rather, Farley had run into her and David had come to the rescue.

He smiled the memory, in spite of himself. Katy was a spitfire, of that there was no doubt. Sassy mouth. Sassy body. But soft and vulnerable beneath the surface, he was quite certain. Maybe his co-workers were right. Maybe it was time to put Maddy’s memory to rest. At least for the weekend. Katy seemed the complete opposite of Maddy. While they both possessed a similar strength of spirit, as far as David could tell, where Maddy had been tall and Valkyrie-like, Katy was small and delicate. Maddy’s short, colorless-pale skin and hair, and ice-blue eyes contrasted with Katy’s warm reddish hair, smooth rosy complexion and deep brown eyes. Maddy had been a hard-core nature-girl, lithe, strong, and athletic, a perfect climbing partner for David. Katy, however, was admittedly clumsy, not a natural athlete, and completely clueless about how to survive in even such relatively sheltered wilderness as the state park.

David glanced toward the dock. Farley had apparently scented the upcoming storm and had returned from his canine adventuring to pace nervously on the end of the dock and wait for his master’s return. As David neared, he steered the boat into the large boathouse that kept the park’s collection of pontoon and rowboats. He tilted the Evenrude’s propellers out of the water and secured the boat to its mooring, then climbed out.

Farley wandered inside, his nails clicking on the weathered plywood flooring. When he reached David, he pressed his snout under David’s hand. David chuckled at the big brute’s need for comfort during inclement weather, and ruffled the mop of hair on the sheepdog’s head, scratched him behind the ears, and patted his ribcage.

“Don’t you worry, Farl. Everything will be fine. We’ve got us two big fish, and a big bowl of chow. We’ll be okay for a couple days, if that storm comes to anything.”

Farley licked David’s hand and trotted out the door, leaving David alone. The sound of waves lapping against the boats, their moorings, and the walls of the house, echoed eerily, yet comfortingly, in the stillness.

With the bass in one hand and the tackle box in the other, and his rod case slung over one shoulder, David left the boathouse and headed down the dock to the beach. Even after the few short minutes in the boathouse, the clouds had moved in and the air definitely seemed cooler than before, pregnant with the promise of drama. Surprised by the speed with which the storm was moving in, David hurried across the beach, his hiking boots kicking up sand behind him. Once he reached the forest trail, it would be a 20-minute hike back to the cabin, even with his long, strong legs. With luck, he would make it home before the first of the rain hit.

His thoughts returning to Katy, he considered that maybe all reporters aren’t so bad as he made them out to be. That experience after Maddy’s body had been found had been too much to bear. But maybe Katy was different. He wondered if she had any idea a storm was brewing, worried whether she was at her tent or wandering the trails somewhere. She was probably in town loading up on fast food, he decided.

Looking down at his fish, he thought a big juicy burger—or maybe a steak—sounded a lot tastier than another bass. His stomach growled and he thought he might run into town and indulge, too. But a low rumble of thunder rolled over the water, promising severe consequences if he ventured far from home. Sighing, he turned onto the path and headed toward the cabin, Farley leading the way.

Katy left the main office in good spirits. Not only had she loaded up on matches, but had come away with a large can of deep woods bug spray from the small, but surprisingly thorough, park store. She was surprised to find a selection of canned and dry goods, natural and not-so-natural insect repellent, umbrellas, ponchos, general camping and hiking supplies, band-aids, first-aid kits, and other useful items. She also found some wonderful post cards and had even managed to set up interviews for the next day, before she returned to Seattle.

When she asked if David would be available, the woman at the desk was unable to find David, which was unusual since, according to her, he never left without his cell phone or walkie talkie. “But I’ll tell him you’re looking for him,” she said. “No promises, but I’ll try.” The woman smiled apologetically, and Katy frowned.

“I know he doesn’t like reporters. He’s already made that clear. But I’m a journalist. There’s a difference.”

The woman smiled again. “I’ll let him know. He knows where to find you?”

Katy nodded, but left her cell phone number just in case. She hoped David would contact her before evening, but would have to be satisfied if she didn’t talk to him at all. She had interviews with three other rangers immediately beneath him who would surely provide all the information she needed for her article, and then some. She didn’t really need to speak to David. But it would be nice.

She looked at her watch. It was shortly after noon, and she had plenty of time to hit the trails and explore a little. She tucked her postcards into her bag and inspected her map. She was astonished to find the number of activities available. From hiking, to boating, to bird watching, and everything in between. Mountain climbing seemed to be a popular sport here.  Though the mountains were not that close, an instructor was provided for day trips for the less experienced. And there was even something under the mysterious label of “interpretive activities”. She wondered what that could possibly entail, and made a mental note to check it out with one of the rangers during their interviews the next day. Or with David. Whichever came first.

In the meantime, she would make her rounds and investigate the premises. She didn’t have time to hike any trails, the shortest being five miles long, but she would visit the various main points. But first, she needed to check her messages first. After spraying a liberal dose of insect repellent, she dug out her phone and flipped it open. Ten messages. Eight of them from Traci, one from her boss, and one a wrong number. She dialed Traci’s number, first, vaguely surprised she had access so far out of the city.

“Hello?” Traci’s voice sounded from the other end.

“It’s me,” Katy said.

“Oh, Katy! How are you doing out there? I was getting a little worried. I’ve been calling you since last night.”

“I had my phone turned off. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got some interviews set up for tomorrow, and today I plan to walk around and check out the services to get a feel for things. I had no idea what a variety of things “camping” could entail. I’ve got an idea for a series of articles, each one highlighting a different aspect. Like hiking, mountain climbing, etc. This time, It’ll just be camping, so I’ll check out camping-specific facilities. It’s pretty fascinating. I had no idea.” Katy’s thoughts were racing.

Traci chuckled. “Well, you just be careful out there by yourself. Maybe you’ll find yourself a handsome park ranger and he can help you gather information.”

Katy smiled to herself, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Look, call me before you hit the road tomorrow. I want to make sure you’re okay. Be careful. I heard there’s some weather on the way. There’s a decent motel down the road a few miles north of there—” The connection crackled through Tracy’s voice.

“Someone’s already recommended it to me.”

“What?”

“A park ranger. I’ll tell you about it later.” The crackle was beginning to annoy her.

“Okay, but watch out for that weather—“

“I’m doing great, Trace. I’m not worried about a little rain. If you and Rich can handle a little rain, so can I.”

“Yes, but this is a big system—“ Traci’s voice cut out.

“Hello? Traci?” Katy looked at her phone, but the call had was out. Her connection was gone. She tried to dial Traci again, but the battery was dead. Why hadn’t she recharged before she’d left? Because she was in too big of a hurry to get going, that’s why. Haste makes waste, she thought, and suddenly understood for the first time exactly what that old adage means. Though she was eager to share her ideas with her boss, she would just have to wait until Monday to discuss them.

Stuffing her phone back into her bag, she squinted at the sky through the trees, her hand shielding her eyes against the sun. She saw little evidence of an encroaching storm. Just blue sky studded with the occasional fluffy, dark-bottomed cumulous cloud. A little rain wouldn’t be a problem, especially if it broke the heat and humidity. She could just hide out in her tent until it passed over. In the mean time, she’d squeeze in a little work and hope to get out and headed for home before the rain hit tomorrow. She picked up her map and started walking. She probably had little to worry about. The storm would likely get delayed or stopped by the mountains, anyway.

Hours later, she was heading back to her tent. Her city legs ached with all the walking she’d done, checking out the utilities available on site, including the three different types of campsites, picnic areas, wash houses, kitchen and cooking facilites, and dump sites. Three pages of her notebook were filled with such details and she was beginning to garner a good picture of what camping entails, the amount of responsibility each camper has to the environment to minimize human impact upon it, and even the appeal of living in the wild for a few days. She was confident that, with her research and tomorrow’s interviews, she would produce not just a satisfactory article, but an in-depth one, beyond the basic dos and don’ts.

To her profound relief, she’d seen very little wildlife beyond a bevy of birds and a few squirrels. But she knew there were things out there larger or faster than deer, and ate them for their supper, and that disturbed her. It was nice out here, but she’d be glad to get back home to the city.

She tried to shake off a sudden chill that plagued her, and rubbed her arms. A breeze caught her hair, sweeping it back from her face, cooling the sweat on her skin. It was then she realized the sun had vanished, no longer dappling the paved path that led her toward her tent. If she wasn’t mistaken, the temperature had dropped, somewhat, and it had grown strangely quiet. No birds sang, no children laughed, no small animals foraged in the underbrush. Even the mosquitoes had ceased dive-bombing her through her cloud of insect repellent. She felt as if she were the only creature out and about. She looked up and saw dark heavy clouds overhead, and shivered as a gust of wind buffeted her from behind, carrying with it a chilly edge that made her break out in goose bumps.

Almost at once, fat, heavy drops of rain fell through the rift between the trees, soaking quickly through her hair and drizzling down her scalp. She picked up her pace, estimating another five minutes of walking to her tent. Not far in normal circumstances, but the tent may as well have been miles away as the rain started pelting her head and shoulders.

By the time she reached her tent, she was running through a deluge. She unzipped the flap and hurried inside, soaked to the skin. She opened her backpack and rummaged for her towel until she remembered she had used it to dry off after her shower and had hung it to dry on a tree branch. She unzipped the window and saw it hanging right where she’d left it, dripping with rain and blowing wetly in the wind. “Dammit.”

Rain pelted the window and she zipped it back up, sighing heavily. She peeled off her wet clothes and put on her remaining outfit, which she’d planned to wear the next day when she returned home. [what], then stuffed her wet clothes into the plastic bag she’d brought as a hamper. Shaking out her wet hair, shivering in the chill, she bundled herself in the sleeping bag and pulled out her pen and notebook, taking down notes for her article. “Check weather forecast before leaving,” she scribbled in her list of do’s and don’ts.

She assumed plenty of people camped during inclement weather, either by design or by accident. Traci and Richard loved getting caught in their tent during rainstorms. How many times had Katy’s best friend described the romance of being trapped in a tent with Richard when it was wild and stormy outside? Katy sighed again, wishing she had someone large and male with her to keep her company. And keep her warm. And David’s face leapt to mind.

By the time David reached his cabin, the skies had opened and he and Farley tumbled soaking wet into the cabin, shaking water from hair and coat. As he changed into dry clothes, David wondered if maybe he should check on Katy, then decided against it, remembering her resolute determination to manage on her own, how her feathers got ruffled every time he offered to help.

Smoothing down his own feathers, which had begun to ruffled as he thought about Katy’s infuriating independence, he positioned himself at the kitchen sink and began to clean the fish. Using a hunting knife, he opened up the belly of one fish and pulled out the innards. He stopped for a moment to inspect the stomach contents, but found nothing of interest. Once, he had found a woman’s ring that had proved to be of some value. He’d put it away somewhere, thinking to give it to Maddy someday, and then forgotten where he’d hidden it. He shuddered, remembering the day she’d found it, irrationally assuming it was for another woman.

He pushed the memory away and reached for the thin filet knife and began cutting away the flesh from the bone. He prided himself on his skill. His filets rarely held bones by the time he was done with them, even with the bonier fish like northern [[[check this out]]].

Finally, he made a fine cut beneath the skin, peeling it away. When he was done, he set the filets aside, sweeping the entrails, head and bones into the waste basket, and began to clean the second fish.

As he worked, he reflected on the day spent on the lake. He felt relaxed for the first time in far too long. He should have taken time off long before now.

By the time he finished with the second fish and packed it away for storage in the freezer, the storm had really taken hold. Wind buffeted the small cabin, and lightning and thunder crashed. The rain came down in thick torrents, and showed no sign of letting up. It was here to stay for a while, that much was clear.

He glanced at his watch. It was nearly four o’clock, and already it was almost too dark to see outside without light. An image of Katy crossed his mind, huddling cold and shivering in the storm, and he hoped she hadn’t gotten caught away from her tent in the deluge. If she had any sense, she’d have gone to the motel an hour ago, when the rain had started. She should have known a storm was on its way before she left the city, but even this morning, the weather reports insisted it wouldn’t come through until Sunday afternoon. She couldn’t have known it would rush over the mountains in a fury like this. No one could have, until it was too late.

Without thinking about it any further, he grabbed a jacket and opened the front door. The rain was unbelievably heavy. He hadn’t seen anything like it in years. He grabbed his keys and dashed for the SUV, the rain instantly soaking through his hair and jeans. He climbed into the truck and thrust the key into the ignition and the Cherokee rumbled to life. A flash of lighting blinded him for a moment, and a deafening clap of thunder shook him to the core. It was a ten-minute walk to Katy’s campsite, and with the truck in this weather he might make it in five. He backed slowly down the drive and headed toward Katy’s site, the big wheels splashing through deep puddles. He hoped she was there.   

Katy listened to the rain pelting the walls of her dome tent, a din of noise that was oddly comforting, in spite of the cold. It lent an impenetrable sense of solitude within her nylon-bubble domain and she huddled deeper in the sleeping bag. She still held her notebook and pen, but her concentration had been broken by the natural drama that coursed and wailed and boomed and flashed all around her. She wished she could see beyond her tent walls, yet was also glad she wasn’t completely aware of what was going on outside. She felt at once protected and exposed, and shuddered to think what she might have done had she gotten caught far from her camp site.

The wind picked up, and the walls of her meager shelter shuddered and shook with the impact. Her heart hammered wildly after a blinding crack of lighting and the roar of thunder that instantly followed. She wondered what the chances were of lighting striking a tree near her, causing it to topple onto her, unawares? Would she hear the strike hit, the crack of sundered wood as it gave way, the whoosh of air as it descended toward her with frightening speed?

She shivered and put her notebook aside, huddling in the middle of the tent, and marveled at the sudden change of weather, and struggled with the fact that she was, in fact, extremely vulnerable in a very physical way, and she did not like it.

She wondered what to do next, thinking about her article, her desire to be a good journalist, and knowing the necessity of gaining experience to write from a background of knowledge. Should she stick it out and hope for the best—for the good of her article and her future, if not for her physical security—or should she make a dash for it and run to the car, find that motel down the road both David and Traci had mentioned?

David. He clearly found her inexperience amusing, which she in turn found embarrassing. The tent shuddered again, and she shook her head. Why should she care what David thought? He was just a guy. A forest ranger who knew way more about the great outdoors than she did. A man wise in the ways of survival, she was sure. And she sure wished he were with her now.

Wind howled around her, and the tent lurched and swayed in spite of the heavy stakes that tethered it to the ground. It was getting downright scary and the lighting and thunder, the wind and creaking trees, made her fear for her life. Pushing aside the image of David’s face and his likely disappointment in her, she threw her scattered items into the backpack and fished out her keys from the front pocket. She would go to the motel. She’d had enough of this craziness. How could she think David would be disappointed in her lack of stick-to-itiveness? He didn’t even know her. And anyone would be a fool to stay out in this kind of weather.

As she hunched before the zippered flap, Katy paused. Had she heard a car pull up, a slamming door? Through the whirling melee, footsteps splashed through the muddy ground toward the tent. She scuttled away from the door toward the back of the tent and let out an almighty shriek when a man’s voice called out and unseen hands fumbled at the zipper.

“Katy! It’s me!” David’s head appeared inside, rainwater dripped from his hair, nose and chin. “Are you all right in here?”

Katy nodded, feeling numb. “What are you doing here?”

He wedged his shoulders inside. “It’s really bad out here, and it probably won’t let up for hours. I think you should find shelter.”

He reached for her hand, but, remembering her article and forgetting that she was just about to seek shelter on her own, she pulled away from him. Did he normally pick up wayward campers and find them shelter during bad weather? Did he think she was incapable of taking care of herself? She felt her temper rise. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be fine here.”

David looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Are you nuts? I’m taking you out of here.”

He reached for her hand again, and she snatched it away. “No! Let go of me. I’ll take my chances.”

Cursing, he crawled into the tent, soaked to the skin, squatting in a puddle of his own creation in front of the opening. “Look. It’s dangerous out here. The wind is too strong. Trees get struck by lightning and fall down. Tents get blown away or crushed under falling limbs. You can’t stay here.”

She shuddered. These were the very things she’d been fearful of, and to hear them spoken aloud by someone else lent weight to the possibility of danger. But she remained silent.

“If you don’t come with me, I’ll just have to stay here with you. I can’t leave you alone.” David zipped up the tent and wiped the water from his face with his wet hand, leaving a smear of mud across his cheekbone. He pulled off his jacket and settled down beside her.

His large male body dominated the small tent, and the thought of sharing such a tiny space with him—so close they almost touched, his body hot and steaming from the rain—made her belly tighten with desire. She felt the stirring deep within her, and she chewed at her lips to control the overwhelming tide of attraction that took hold of her. She cleared her throat. “Who do you think you are? My protector?”

“Well, no. But—“

“For your information, I was just going to run to that motel, when you came.” She opened her hand and showed him her car keys.

“Oh. Well then, let’s go.” Before she could protest, he grabbed her by the hand, holding fast this time, and pulled her behind him into the raging storm. She shrieked in alarm, the cold rain shocking her skin. The temperature seemed to be dropping by the minute.

 They ran for the truck, and David opened the driver’s side door, shoving Katy before him across the seat. He got in and slammed the door closed. The windows fogged up immediately, and when he turned the ignition, he twisted the console dial to defog, and the air conditioning kicked in. Beside him, Katy wrapped her arms around herself shivering in the cold air, and sneezed.

“Bless you,” he said. From the back seat, he pulled out an old wool blanket and handed it to her. 

“Thanks,” she responded and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, pulling the blanket around her. She shivered in its scratchy depths, waiting for a bit of warmth to seep into her bones.

“Sorry about the dog hair.”

She looked down at the blanket and noticed long strands of white hair. Farley’s. “That’s okay,” she said and snuggled deeper, comforted by its woolen and slightly doggy scent.

She couldn’t wait to get to the motel and into a hot bath. When she got there, she might even turn the heat on full blast. She had trouble believing that, just a few hours earlier, she had been complaining about the unseasonable heat of the sun.

The rain was a blinding sheet of water across the windshield, and even the wipers going at full speed didn’t help visibility. David crept along the pathway that led toward the exit. When he turned down another trail, Katy furrowed her brow. Was this a shortcut? He was the head ranger, after all. He would know of such things. But a minute later, when he pulled up in front of a small cabin and cut the engine, Katy sat up in alarm. “Where are we?”

“My cabin,” he said, as if she should have known.

“What?”

“My cabin. This is where you’re staying for the night.”

“I thought you were taking me to the motel!”

“No. I’m not driving in this weather.”

“Then take me back to my car!”

“Absolutely not. I won’t let you drive in this weather, either. You think I want your death on my conscious?” His face was dark with anger and stubbornness, stopping Katy from arguing further. His words were harsh, but they foretold a very real possibility of having an accident on the road. All the same, the ferocity behind his words struck her as somewhat odd, and she wondered at its source.

A gust of wind rocked the truck, reminding her he was still watching her, waiting for her response. She bundled the blanket around her and decided to accept defeat with grace. She needed help. He wanted to give it. And she was in no position, this time, to complain. “All right. Lets go.”

He opened the door and got out, propping it open for her against the wind as she bundled the blanket around her head and shoulders. He held her hand as she jumped out and led the way through the rain to his cabin.

CHAPTER FIVE

Katy felt some misgiving about staying at David’s cabin. After all, she didn’t know him very well, did she? He could be some kind of madman, behind his hunky good looks and all those white teeth. What kind of person lived in a cabin in the woods, all by himself? Standing beside him under the eave, she watched him open the door. His large, square hands slipped the key into the lock deftly, and he wiggled the handle just so. His jaw was set in a firm line, teeth clenched together, and the muscles there worked tightly beneath the skin. He was tense, and she was to blame. He didn’t have to come out in the raging storm to look for a bedraggled, incompetent reporter he didn’t like in the first place. Correction, she pointed out to herself, a journalist. There’s a difference. And a man who goes out in the rain to rescue people he doesn’t like and offers them his home as safe harbor isn’t the kind of man who will likely turn out to be a mass murderer. Unless, she was really his next victim, and he’d been planning on it since he ran into her car at the grocery store in town.

“Oh cut it out!” she reprimanded.

David stopped his fussing and stared at her. “What? The handle’s jammed. You have to wiggle it just right when rains like this. If you have a problem with it, you can stay in the truck.”

Katy felt herself flush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean you.”

He looked at her a moment longer, then returned his attention to the door handle. “Are you seeing ghosts, or are you just out of your mind?”

She glared at him. “If you must know, I was wondering if you were a stalker or crazy killer, and whether I should run for my life or take my chances by staying here with you.”

David let go of the door handle and turned to face her, one hand hooked loosely on his hip. “I’m not sure whether to laugh or to be insulted.”

A green flash of lightning, so close she could smell the ozone, was followed by another deafening crash of thunder. Katy jumped and huddled closer to the door, her arm brushing David’s chest. She was so cold, and derived little warmth from the blanket, she wondered briefly if would mind wrapping his arms around her. Just to warm her up.

David chuckled. “City girl. That’s what it is. You spend too much time in the city.” He slipped his hand between her elbow and the door handle. The touch, even through the blanket, caused Katy’s heart to hammer in her chest. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get this door open so we can get inside and get warm and dry.”

He looked at her, and as she returned his gaze, she knew this was no serial killer, and she felt silly to have thought it. He continued to look at her and raised his eyebrows. She realized she’d been staring and looked away. “Sorry,” she said, and with that word she apologized for everything. All the trouble she seemed to be causing him, for being an ignorant city girl, for causing him to believe he needed to look out for her and search for her in bad weather, for being belligerent and suspicious. And for being something he didn’t like, a person whose job it was to, well, report things. She would try to do better with this man. She saw a sadness in his eyes that touched a soft spot in her heart. He was a nice man and probably deserved better treatment than he’d gotten from her.

“A-ha!” David pushed open the door and stepped aside to let Katy pass. “After you,” he said.

“Thanks.” The sight that greeted Katy’s eyes was not what she would have expected. She’d assumed he was a bachelor, but this place was clearly decorated with a woman’s touch and an eye for coordination. While not frilly and the décor mostly dark, the colors were muted and complimented each other in a contemporary style. The furniture was not feminine, but not entirely masculine, either. Wood, leather, and upholstery fashioned with strong lines, yet soft and inviting. “Nice. Who’s your decorator,” she asked, and hopefully not too pointedly.

“I don’t have one,” he answered.

“Really? Did you do all this yourself?” With a sweep of her hand, she included the furniture, paneling, the framed pictures artfully arranged on the wall, the window dressing.

“No,” he said, and turned away from her to drop his keys onto the table by the door.

Farley nosed curiously around Katy, sedately sniffing her clothes as if he recognized her from the morning and they were already old friends. When his cold nose touched her hand, Katy moved it away. She wanted to pat him, to show there were no hard feelings for knocking her down, but the creature was so large, she felt somewhat intimidated by him. Her hand hovered in the air over his great furry head.

“Farley, leave her alone,” David said.

Farley whined softly and moved to his master’s side, nails clicking on the wood floor. “Go lie down, you big brute.” Farley moseyed into what appeared to be the only bedroom and Katy heard him settle his bulk onto the floor. David smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a good old dog. He doesn’t really take to strangers, but he seems to like you.”

Katy smiled. Then sneezed.

“You should probably get into some dry clothes.”

“All my clothes are wet. And I left them back at the tent.”

David scratched his head. “Well, I suppose I’ve got some here you can use. Wait right here.” He turned around and jogged to the room where Farley had just disappeared and emerged a minute or two later with a pair of drawstring sweatpants, a soft flannel shirt, and a pair of wool hiking socks. “They’re a little big for you, but warm. I’m afraid that’s all I have.”

His face colored, and, amused, Katy wondered what he would have to be embarrassed about. Maybe the pants had holes in them. She smiled reassuringly and reached for the clothes. She could deal with holes, as long as was dry. “These’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stood looking at each other for a moment or two, until Katy cleared her throat. “Um, is there place I can change?” She sneezed, not once, but three times in succession. “Ugh. I must be getting a cold.”

“Bless you. You can change the bathroom, and take a long hot shower, if you like. Or a bath.” He pointed to a door beside the bedroom. “There are extra towels on the shelves next to the tub.”

“That would be wonderful,” she said, and moved toward the bathroom.

David watched as she fumbled for the light and then found it, flicking it on and closing the door behind her. He took a deep breath. Was he nuts? Inviting a strange woman into his house to stay the night? He forced himself to get a grip, closing his eyes and breathing steadily through his nose. She needed help. The choices were to either let her stay here, or risk his life, and hers, driving her out to the motel down the road. The fact that no woman had stayed in this cabin since Maddy’s death should have little bearing on the fact that Katy needed a place to stay, and he could provide it. It wouldn’t be the first time, but by God he would make sure it wouldn’t be the fiasco it was the last time, the only time, a woman had stayed with him after Maddy.

If only she weren’t so damned attractive.

He set about building a fire in the fireplace, using logs from the pile along the wall. When he had a satisfactory blaze going, he lit a few candles to scent the stale air and turned on some music. He was in the mood for jazz, so he hunted up an old CD and popped it into the changer.

He sat on the sofa his wife had chosen and bought when they were first married, along with the rest of the things in the cabin, and opened a mountain climbing magazine. He hadn’t thought to redecorate after her death. Everything was tasteful, carefully chosen to fit together, durable. Except the edging on the sofa cushion where he always sat was beginning to fray. The curtains, now that he called his attention to them, were fading a little, too. It had only been eighteen months since her death. Surely, it was time to move on, wasn’t it? To live for himself and not her memory—or his guilt? When was it the right time to let it all go, to stop punishing himself? He wished he had the answer.

The sound of Katy drawing a bath lured his eyes to the door she had disappeared behind. He heard the ghost of her voice, a soft and distant moan of pleasure over the running water, as she slid in. He closed his eyes and tried not to imagine her creamy-pale skin sliding and squeaking on the white porcelain.

 As the bathtub filled with hot, steamy water, Katy peeled off her clothes and heaped them in a corner. She’d wanted to lock the door, but there was no lock. She shrugged it off, figuring a bachelor would have little need of a locking door, living all by himself. Her eyes were drawn to the plush burgundy bath towels, so big she could wrap herself in one of them twice over. The luxuriousness of those towels belied a man living alone, however, and she had to wonder.

She shivered and cast the question aside. It wasn’t for her to worry about such things. This was certainly much nicer than a crummy roadside motel room, by any stretch. The company was pleasant enough, as well, and so what if he belonged to another woman? She wasn’t here now, and Katy, despite her earlier plans to flirt and have a little fun, wasn’t interested, anymore. Not after what she had just gone through. She was too tired, too cold, and decided all she needed, really, was a good night’s sleep so she could focus on the interviews tomorrow, and get herself back to Seattle to write the article.

She slipped into the tub, her skin sticking a little on the porcelain as she slid down until she was submerged to her chin. It was a deep, long tub, and even with her shoulders under the water, she could barely stretch her toes to touch the other end. This was the way tubs should be made. Why weren’t big tubs like this the standard, she wondered.

A little while later, Katy woke up with a start. She had been dozing, the water had cooled, and the thick bubbles were nothing but a thin scrim on the water’s surface. There was a knock at the door and David’s voice drifted through the steamy air. “Are you all right in there?”

“Yeah!” Katy nearly shouted, her heart hammering. “Don’t come in, I’m just getting out of the tub.” She pulled the plug, letting the water drain, and grabbed the towel she’d set on the toilet seat to dry herself. She reached for the clothes David had given her, and realized she hadn’t any underwear, but what she had been wearing. Which was now heaped in a wet pile in the corner between the door and the wall. “Oh, no,” she sighed.

There was no help for it, though. She doubted David had women’s underwear lying around for her to use. At least, she amended, none that would be seemly for her to borrow. No wonder he had blushed when he’d handed her the clothes. If she’d had any sense, she’d have understood the problem immediately and blushed, too. He must think she was a wanton, and strutted around underwearless all the time, not to have noticed anything amiss.

She pulled on the sweatpants and buttoned the flannel shirt over her full breasts. There were no holes in them, she notices. The sleeves reached beyond her fingertips, so she rolled up the cuffs and tucked in the shirt. Looking in the mirror, she didn’t like the way the shirt pulled against her unbound breasts, so she bloused it out a little, but it looked silly with the sweatpants. Finally, in a sigh of exasperation, she pulled out the shirt to hang loose to her thighs. Then she pulled on the woolen socks and tucked in the ankles of the sweats. Picking up her wet clothes, she held them out from her a little as she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the cooler air of the living room. There was a fire going in the fireplace along one wall, cozy and inviting. She slid her stocking feet across the wooden floor, feeling self-conscious, not wanting to make noise as she drifted toward David. “Do you have I dryer I could use for these?”

“Sure.” He approached her, avoiding her gaze, and she knew he was aware she wore no underwear. She blushed and looked away.

“Thanks for the bath. It was wonderful. Just what I needed. I feel warm again.”

“The least I could do,” she heard his voice call out from a room beyond the open kitchen that appended the living room.

She wandered to the fireplace, attracted by a row of photos there. Each one bore the image of the same person, a tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, ice queen. She posed in the midst of various activities. Along a trail dressed in trekking shorts and hiking boots, a heavy-looking backpack slung from her shoulders. With a mountain bike, donned in a helmet, and formal-looking, tight-fitting bicycle attire, and a number attached to her chest. Suspended from a sheer rock face, clinging to the side by her fingers, toes, a rope and the sheer force of will. And on what appeared to be a mountain top, wrapped snugly in David’s arms, their cheeks touching, and silly, lovesick grins stretching their faces. They appeared to be of an equal height. And quite a match for each other. Katy swallowed, grateful she had decided not to pursue him. How could she compete with a beautiful, athletic Amazon like that?

Maybe she’s his sister, she thought. But when she studied the happy-cuddly photo again, she knew that possibility was a slim one.  

A crackling noise disturbed her thoughts, and she turned to find David hunched over a piece of machinery. Curiosity drew her nearer. “What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s a short-wave radio,” he answered. “I’m checking out the forecast from the weather service.”

Katy smiled. “We already know what it’s doing out there. I don’t think we need anyone to tell us.”

David fiddled with the dials, avoiding her gaze. “I know, but later—”

“Later, it’s going to stop and leave everything wet and soggy.” Her effort at humor was wasted, however. David pored over the radio, searching for a weather update.

“Something smells fishy,” she said, finally.

“Hmm?” he said, his back still turned.

“I said, something smells fishy here.”

David turned off the radio and stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“It smells like fish,” she repeated, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

He frowned, and then his expression cleared. “Oh. Yeah. I caught a couple of fish and was cleaning them before I came to get you.”

“That’d be great. I’m starving.”

He moved toward the kitchen and started pulling out items from the cabinets. He knew he shouldn’t obsess about the weather so much, but he couldn’t help himself. After what happened with Maddy… He pushed the memory away. He didn’t want to think about her. Not now.

“Do you need any help?”

He looked up and smiled. “Have you ever fried fish, before?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“You live in Seattle, and you don’t know how to fry a fish?” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “It’s about time you learned.” He handed her some eggs and a bowl. “Crack those babies in here, and scramble them up good.”

He led her through the motions, enjoying her company, her clean soapy smell, mixed with her own warm odor, when he leaned close, the light brush of her fingers when he handed her the ingredients for his breading. Her smile made his heart beat faster.

As he dropped the filets into the frying pan, she opened a bottle of wine. “How did you know I was at my tent?” she asked, pouring the ruby liquid into two glasses.

“I didn’t,” he said. “It was the first place I looked.

She paused. “You came looking for me, without knowing where I might be?”

“I knew you might be at your tent.”

“But you also knew I came here to do research for an article. So what would I be doing in my tent, when I should be have been out doing research? What would you have done if I wasn’t there?”

He was silent a moment, carefully monitoring the fish in the pan. “Looked for you.”

She put her hand on his elbow and handed him the wine. At her touch, he turned around and took the glass. She looked into his eyes, and he felt himself falling into their deep brown depths. “That was very chivalrous of you.” She sipped from her glass, peering at him over the rim. Her gaze never wavered.

David swallowed, and put his glass down to turn over a filet. “Well, that’s my job, really. My areas of expertise are giving advice on insect repellent and aiding damsels in distress.” He glanced at her. “I see you haven’t followed my advice, by the way.”

“Don’t forget ramming into other people’s cars. And I’m hardly helpless.”

He laughed, enjoying the repartee. “Okay, what about arriving at a reservations-only park, without a reservation?”

“I came here in a hurry, on the recommendation of a friend. How was I supposed to know I needed a reservation?”

“You call first.”

“Okay, so I didn’t call. I was in a hurry. Throw me in a bear trap and leave me to die of hunger and exposure, why don’t you?. What next?”

“The fire.”

“Okay. Yes, you did help. But I could have survived without one.”

“And the tent.” He chuckled when he remembered the interesting shape she had formed of it.

“Yes, well. I thought I did a pretty good job, considering the instructions were missing.”

“And it would have collapsed on you in the middle of the night, and you would have been helpless.”

“I could have slept in the car.”

“I thought you needed research for a how-to article on camping?”

“Okay, you got me there, too. What next?”

“I could have told you the water was too cold for a swim this time of year.”

“Before or after you sicced your dog on me?”

He laughed. “I didn’t sic him on you. Maybe I just felt I needed another excuse to make amends later on.” He stopped himself. Where had that come from?

Katy blushed. “You don’t need an excuse.”

He looked at her, speechless. How had he gotten himself into this corner? His gaze dropped to her lips, and she licked them. He wondered if he would taste the wine if he kissed her.  Then he pulled himself away. He needed to control himself. He didn’t want to get involved with someone like her.

Someone like her? Who was she? Could she be as bad as Kara, the last woman to stay here eighteen months ago? He didn’t want to believe it, but couldn’t help himself. She was a reporter, and he couldn’t afford to trust her. Katy made him feel things he hadn’t felt in years, things he wasn’t sure he had ever felt. The need to defend and protect, the desire for tenderness, and a fierce hot hunger he was surprised he possessed. He realized that, if he let her in even for one night, Katy had the power to break his heart. And he didn’t want that.

When Maddy’s body had been found, investigators and reporters had flocked to the park to seek him out. Kara had been one of the reporters. He and Maddy already had been on the outs for some time, but [[[[her disappearance and animal attack references!!]]]] the knowledge of the way in which she had died had devastated him. He should have been there to save her. He should have gone after her. And because he hadn’t [[[[been there for her]]]], he had lost not only his wife, but his sense of self-worth.

Kara, seeking to gain as much information as possible about him and Maddy, had wiled her way into his life. She cooked for him, did his laundry, soothed his soul with her body. And when she had what she needed from him, she left. The story that soon appeared in the paper she worked for was not flattering. He’d wanted to file a libel suit, but his attorney had pointed out there was nothing truly libelous about the article. All the facts were true. She had merely slanted them to suit her own needs.

David looked at Katy again. She was a reporter, but was she like Kara? Would she exploit the pain and loss of another human being to further her own ends? He couldn’t know for sure, and he didn’t want to find out the hard way.

He pointed toward a cupboard. “There are plates in there. You can set the table, and I’ll finish up here.”

“Okay,” Katy said, and moved away from him, confused. What had she said? So, he’s got a girlfriend. What was wrong with a little flirting? Obviously, she’d crossed an invisible line and made a note not to do it again.

She pulled down the plates and began setting the table. By the time she was done, David was already serving the filets, but his mood was subdued. “I hope I’m not intruding,” she said, as they sat down and started eating. “I saw those pictures on the mantle. I hope your girlfriend won’t mind my being here.”

David’s fork stopped half-way to his mouth, and he lowered his hand. “That’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Katy said, brightening. A little glow of hope warmed her chest. “Is she your sister, then? You don’t look alike, but you both seem to be about the same height—“

“That’s my wife,” he said, keeping his eyes on his plate. His voice sounded flat, dull.

The glow flickered out. “Oh. Um, she’s not—”

“She’s dead.”

CHAPTER SIX

Katy choked on her fish, which seemed to bring David around. He looked up, concerned, handing her a wine glass.

“Are you okay?” He half-rose out of this chair, ready to do the Heimlich, she presumed.

She cleared her throat, and lied. “Just a bone.”

He sat down again, but eyed her carefully. “My fish don’t have bones.” A twitch of a smile teased his mouth.

“This one does,” she said, and swallowed the wine, and wiped her lips on a dark-green linen napkin. “Can I ask how she, um, died?”

He looked down at his plate again, shoving a large bite into his mouth. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

“That’s okay,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to pry.” She could have kicked herself for sounding like an insensitive oaf. Or like a reporter. She forced down another forkful of fish, and cringed at her blunder.

He looked up at her quickly, his eyes meeting hers. An expression of pain and need crossed his face, and Katy’s heart went out to him. On impulse, she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “How long ago?”

He pulled his hand away. “Eighteen months.”

Katy frowned. Eighteen months, and the pain was still so raw? “Were you close?” What a stupid question. Of course they were close. They were married.

He drained his wine glass and set it down, hard. The chime of the crystal rang in the air for a brief moment. “I said I don’t like to talk about it.”

Katy pushed her plate away, suddenly not hungry. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”      

David looked at her for a long, steady moment. Katy fidgeted under the scrutiny, pushing a strand of still-wet hair behind her ear and shuffling her feet beneath her chair.

“It was [[[[a climbing accident]]]] an animal attack,” he said, finally. “She was out alone. And [[[[fell]]]] got between a mountain lion and its dinner, and it attacked her.”

Katy glanced at the row of photos along the mantle, where she’d seen a picture of David’s wife clinging to a rock face, and a light went on. “In the brochure I have, the park offers climbing lessons. Is that you?”

“It was. Both of us. I don’t climb, anymore. [[[[It happened while we were out together, and, well, I don’t climb anymore.”]]]]

“I see.” And she thought she did. That he was still pained by the event was evident. But it seemed to her that something more than loss fueled that pain.

She sighed. So her mountain man was a free agent, after all. No girlfriend. No wife. But he was still unavailable, even for a little weekend fling. She wondered what ate away at his soul, and resigned herself to the fact that she would probably never know.

David had pushed his plate away, as well, and was now staring into the fire.

She smiled at his profile, hoping to lighten the mood. “The fish is really good. Thank you for the dinner.” She drew her plate close again, and took a big bite to show she meant it. She normally didn’t like fish, but this was good. “Delicious. I’m impressed.”

He looked at her again, and his lips curved into a tight smile. “Thanks.”

He returned his attention to his meal, and they ate together in silence.

After their uneasy dinner and cleanup, the tension between them had eased a bit. Katy settled down on the couch and David in an easy chair, both drinking wine and staring into the fire.

“So why are you writing a camping article?” he asked.

“Well, it was my editor’s idea, really. She wants to expand readership to include a broader audience of women. There aren’t many outdoorsy-types who seem to be interested in our magazine, or even who work there. I guess I just happened to draw the lucky straw.”

“Which magazine?”

Katy grimaced. “GlamTrends. Not very prestigious, but a person has to start somewhere, and I don’t intend to stay,” she said quickly, feeling as if she needed to explain herself. “Just long enough to get a few credits to my name, a few bylines, and then I can move on to somewhere better. Researching make-up tips isn’t my cup of tea.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I’ve always dreamed of being a journalist, and I’d like to go somewhere I can make a positive contribution with my words.”

“Most reporters seem to wallow in the negative. Aren’t you afraid of being like them?”

Katy stiffened. “I’m not like them. I’m a journalist. Not a reporter. There’s a difference.”

David raised his eyebrows. “A difference? How?”

Katy rested her wine glass on her knee and held it gently by the stem, trying not to filter into her fingers the tension this subject always aroused in her. “A reporter reports things. They find facts and spit them out. Some of them twist the facts around to make things seem what they aren’t, just for sensation, because sensation sells. To me, a journalist has more integrity. More time and thought and heart goes into the writing. More sincerity. And that’s what I want in my writing. Sincerity.”

“Writing camping articles hardly warrants any kind of sincerity.”

“Well, I can at least try.”

David nodded. “Best of luck, then,” he said, and sipped his wine, a different expression in his eyes when he looked at her than he’d possessed before.

“Thanks.” She felt as if she had won a small battle, but which victory she now had in her pocket, she wasn’t entirely certain. She studied David, little more than five feet away, trying to discern the near-imperceptible change in him. But all she really saw was the strength of his features contoured in the firelight, and concluded that he was unreadable at the moment. She stifled a yawn.

“You should probably get to bed.”

Katy smiled and snuggled deeper under the throw blanket on her lap, bringing it up to her chin to cover her shoulders. “I would, but I think you’re in my bedroom.”

He laughed. “Oh, no. Your bedroom is in there.” He pointed to the open door, where Katy could see the corner of the small double bed. “I’m sleeping out here, so you’re in my bedroom, if you don’t mind.”

Katy didn’t think she minded, at all, but said, “You can’t sleep out here. I’m smaller. I don’t mind the couch, really. It’s no problem.”

“It is a problem. I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re out here. You’re taking the bed, and that’s final.”

Katy recognized it was fruitless to argue. “All right. You win.” She yawned again. “I better go brush my teeth. You don’t happen to have an extra toothbrush, do you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said, trying not to think of Kara. “There’s one in the medicine cabinet, still in the box.”

“Great.”

When she came out of the bathroom, all minty fresh, David met her at the door. “My turn.”

“All yours.” She smiled up at him. He was very tall. His broad shoulders blocked the view of the living room behind him.

“Really?” He looked down at her, making Katy’s heart skip a beat, until his gaze rested on her forehead. “That’s a nasty bruise,” he said, and touched the skin that was beginning to turn green and brown.

Katy felt the heat radiating from his body, and her breath quickened from his touch. “It’s getting better.”

“I’m really sorry about what happened yesterday. I should’ve looked where I was going.” His voice was low, husky, and his fingers moved from her skin to push the hair away from her face.

This close, Katy could smell him—clean and warm, slightly musky—and she felt the urge to put her arms around him to drink up his scent. She tilted her head back to look at his face. His green eyes had gone dark, making her body tingle as they blazed a trail from her bruise, to her eyes, to her lips. Her heart beat so fast, she thought she would swoon. She put a hand on his chest to steady herself. At the touch, a shock of electricity coursed from her hand, through her arm, and settled in her belly. Desire roiled there, clamored to be let loose. She snatched her hand away.

Breaking contact steadied her a bit and she stepped back, breathing deeply. “I have to get some sleep.”

David dropped his hand from her hair. “Me too.” He moved around her toward the bathroom door. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she said, and closed the bedroom door behind her.

Katy awoke in the middle of the night feeling disoriented and needing to pee. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was, when the distant roll of thunder and the light patter of rain brought her back to reality. David’s cabin. She rolled out of bed and made her way to the bedroom door, but when she reached out to turn the handle, she saw that it was already open. A soft woof sounded from the floor beside her. “Hey Farley,” she said.

When she went to bed, she was certain she’d closed the door behind herself, leaving Farley to sleep in the living room with his master. Apparently, she hadn’t closed it all the way, and Farley had nosed his way into the room to sleep in what appeared to be his usual spot beside the door. Groggy, she shrugged and padded barefoot to the bathroom.

When she came out again, she noticed the fire had gone out in the fireplace, and the living room had grown chill. She tip-toed to the couch, unable to resist a peek at David as he slept, but telling herself she wanted to make sure he was warm beneath the blanket. When she approached, the blanket lay heaped on the floor, and the couch was empty. Looking around, she saw no sign of him, and decided he must have gone outside for a late-night stroll. Maybe he couldn’t sleep.

She turned around and crept back to bed, pulling the covers around her, but couldn’t seem to get comfortable. She rolled the other way seeking a better position, and bumped into a warm, heavy body. She shrieked, pushing herself away, waking David from a deep slumber. He let out a yell, and they scrambled away from each other, until they were on opposite sides of the bed again.

“What are you doing here?” Katy said, holding the blanket to her chest. She still wore his flannel shirt and sweatpants. And she still lacked underwear.

There was a long pause, until David said, “I got up to go to the bathroom, and must have forgotten you were here.”

She heard him chuckle in the darkness. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re lucky I always sleep on this side of the bed.”

Katy was silent as she considered the possibilities. “Oh,” was all she could croak out in response.

There was a rustle of sheets and the jounce of bedsprings. With no streetlights shining outside, and the moon and stars covered by rain clouds, it was very dark in the cabin. “What are you doing?”

“Going back to sleep.” The rustling stopped, and he made a noise of settlement that was half moan and half sigh.

“Here?”

“Where else?”

“On the couch, maybe?”

“The fire’s out. It’s too cold. You can go out there, if you like. I’m staying here. It’s warmer.” He moved again, taking half the sheets and blankets with him.

“Fine.” She rose and stalked back to the living room as well as she could in the darkness, counting herself lucky she’d missed bumping into Farley, a wall, or ramming her toe against the door jamb.

She collected the fallen throw blanket and curled up on the couch. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but sleep eluded her. The couch, while comfortable enough to sit in, was not made for sleeping. She tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable spot, but a ridge between the seat cushions dug into her hip. When she thought she had finally arranged herself into a satisfactory position, her stillness invited the chill of the room to settle around her, seeping through the weave of the blanket. Her nose grew cold, and she curled deeper into under the covers. But, in spite of her effort to retain warmth, she started to shiver.

After sneezing twice, and thought about rebuilding the fire in the fireplace. She sat up and looked around the darkened room, but there was no sign firewood and she reasoned that he must store that outside somewhere, presumably out of the wet weather.

Gathering the blanket tight around herself, she lay down again and tried to sleep, but it was no use. Her choices were clear. She could either freeze to death out here in the living room, or she could go back and share the warmth of David’s bed. Throwing off the blanket, she rose and returned to the other room, trying not to make any noise.

When she climbed back into the small bed, David had taken the blankets for himself. Thinking he was asleep, she tried to ease a corner away, but they were weighted down by his body. She pulled, trying not to disturb him, and she was about to give up when his voice sounded in the darkness. “I told you it was too cold out there,” he said.

“You scared me,” she said, placing her hand on her racing heart and sitting back on her heels. “I thought you were asleep.”

“How could anyone sleep with all that racket you’re making?”

“I need some of those blankets, if you don’t mind. I’m freezing.”

There was a moment of silence. “No, I don’t mind,” he said, and pulled a portion from under his body.

“Thanks,” Katy said, grudgingly. She crawled beneath the covers and lay on her back, trying not to touch him in the small space, yet reveling in his warmth. She pulled the blankets to her nose and inhaled. They smelled like him, and it made her feel safe. And it made her want him all the more. Good God, how was she going to get through the night?

David rolled on his side to face her. “Better?” he asked, his voice a warm rumble at her ear. Even though there was a fold of fabric between his body and hers, she could feel his heat, and she swallowed.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice a breathless whisper.

“Good,” he said.

She felt him lean toward her, and before she could respond, his mouth was on hers, soft and warm. It ended as suddenly as it had begun, and he moved away again, turning his back to her. “Sleep tight,” he said.

The kiss seemed chaste enough, but it made Katy gasp in an effort to control the wave of desire that coursed through her. Her belly tightened with wanting him, and she struggled to catch her breath. “What was that?” she finally managed.

“A goodnight kiss,” he answered over his shoulder.

“Why?”

He did not respond right away, except to turn around again and prop himself on one elbow. Katy was very aware of his long body stretched alongside of hers, not quite touching, and sensed his face scant inches from her own. Her breath came in shallow gasps, as she tried not to reveal how he affected her.

“I don’t know,” he said, finally. “I wanted to. And I’m going to do it again.”

Katy put her hands up to stop him, but they were trapped beneath his chest as he leaned over. This time, he did not pull away. Instead, he kissed her softly, coaxing her mouth open with his lips until his tongue touched hers. Her head swam with the taste of him and she responded to his kiss, sliding her hands out from under his chest to tangle her fingers in his thick hair.

He slid his leg between her thighs, gently pressing them open, while his free hand caressed her face, sliding down her neck and chest to cup her breast. He broke the kiss to follow the path his hand had made, his lips hot on her skin. She gasped and arched her back when his mouth covered her nipple, teasing it with his tongue, his teeth, sucking hard.

When he lifted his head, she opened her eyes and stared at the black form he made in the darkness, barely discernible, a phantom lover. Without a sound, he kissed his way down her belly, pulled gently at the drawstring of her sweatpants and slid them over her hips. She heard him draw in his breath, taking in her scent. His finger slid inside her, and then another as he kissed her there, sending shocks of electricity through her body.

He slid upward and his weight shifted until he lay atop her. She pushed at his pajama bottoms, eager to touch his silky smoothness, to feel him inside her. He kissed her mouth, and she tasted herself on his tongue. His elbows propped on either side of her head, he held himself above her, poised to enter her. “Maddy,” he whispered.

“Katy,” she answered. “My name’s Katy.” She continued kissing him, understanding how a mistake like that could happen between two people who barely knew each other, caught in the heat of passion. She didn’t mind this time, but she would make sure it didn’t happen again. She would make sure he remembered her name for a long time to come.

David stopped, his desire withering as surely as if she had dumped cold water on him. He rolled off of her and onto his back, pulling the blankets over himself. How could he make such a mistake? It would have been one thing had he uttered Maddy, his wife’s name. But what had slipped out had been the name of the reporter who had burned him over a year ago. He struck the mattress with his fist, causing Katy to yelp in surprise.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

He sighed. “No. It’s not you.”

“Who’s Maddy?”

“It’s— no one,” he said, and closed his eyes, his forearm resting across his face. When would he ever get over this emotional obstacle? He thought it was time. When he’d seen Katy emerge from her bath—flushed and fragrant, her skin glowing, her hair wet and slicked back behind her ears, wearing nothing beneath his shirt and his pants but her own humid flesh—it required all of his control not to take her in his arms and carry her into the bedroom.

It was true, she had dredged up painful memories while they ate, but those had dissipated into the distance as they spoke afterward. Her gentleness appealed to him, soothed him. She struck him as somewhat naïve, and he found that refreshing. Surely she couldn’t be anything like Maddy, grasping and manipulative, a born actress who used that talent to get what she wanted, never mind the path of destruction she left behind.

Could she?

Better not to trust her, he decided. Facts were facts. Reporter or journalist, the difference was a matter of semantics, mere hairsplitting. Her job was to gather information and turn it into something interesting. People are not interested in camping, unless they are campers themselves. The readers of GlamTrend would not bother to pick up the magazine to read Katy’s story unless there was something juicy to lure them to it. They would want something tantalizing, like the widowed park ranger who couldn’t get over the death of his estranged wife—the wife who had died by her husband’s own negligence.

David rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He couldn’t believe what a sap he was, almost to have fallen into the same type of trap Kara had set for him eighteen months ago. Why couldn’t he be left alone to suffer his guilt and misery in peace?

Feeling the fool, and angry at Katy, he slid off the bed and pulled up his pajama bottoms.

“Where are you going?” Katy’s voice sounded small in the darkness.

“To sleep on the couch. C’mon, Farl.”

Farley followed him out the door with a soft woof, and David closed it hard behind him.

Katy awoke the to sound of birds chirping, a grey rosy light filling the room she slept in. She looked around, trying not to remember the confusing events that had passed a few hours before. She wondered what had gotten into David, and who was Kara? Judging by his reaction, it could only be his wife. She could only imagine the jumble of emotion he must be experiencing after mumbling his dead wife’s name while making love to a near stranger.

She rose and padded to the closed bedroom door, pressing her ear to the wood. There was silence on the other side, so David must be still asleep. She opened the door quietly and tip-toed into the living room. The couch was empty, and her clothes were folded and resting on the arm, her bra and panties discreetly tucked between jeans and t-shirt.

“Hello?” she called out, but there was no answer. Both dog and master seemed to be out, so she took her clothes into the bathroom and changed. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, and borrowing the wide-bristled brush she’d used the evening before after her bath, she brushed her hair. When she was satisfied, she stepped into the living room, relieved to be wearing underwear, again. It was chilly, so she slipped on the flannel shirt over her t-shirt.

 Her stomach growled painfully, so she crossed the room to the kitchen, intending to make a big breakfast for them both. Maybe after some bacon and eggs, or some hot pancakes, they would both feel a little better, and could start again with a clean slate.

But first, some music. Looking through the selection of CDs on the shelf above the stereo, she was surprised to find a title by her favorite pianist. She slipped the CD into its slot, returning the one from the night before into its case, and pressed play. The small cabin was filled with peaceful, lyrical music, and she took a deep breath, letting go of some of the residual tension. 

She searched the fridge and pulled out some eggs, milk and juice. Nodding with approval, Katy was impressed by the choice of food of a man living alone. A born-again-bachelor he might be, but he certainly didn’t live—or eat—like one. As she pawed through a drawer looking for a whisk and a spatula, the weak light from a nearby window angled down just so and a faint glint of color caught her eye. Pushing aside a butcher knife and a mixing spoon, she spied a ring lying in the bottom of the drawer. She picked it up and examined it. It was a large oval opal in a simple gold setting. An antique by the dulled hue of it, but its beauty still striking and luminous. She wondered what it was doing at the bottom of the utensil drawer.

The front door opened, and Farley squeezed through, followed by David. Surprised, she glanced up, still holding the ring between two fingers. “Hi! I was wondering where you guys were.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded over-bright and eager.

His gaze dropped to her hand and he frowned. “What do you have there?”

She looked down, then held the ring out toward him. “I found this in the drawer. It’s beautiful. Were you missing it?”

He strode over to her, and grabbed the ring from her fingers. “What were you doing in my drawers?”

Katy stared at him, nearly unable to resist such an opening for a joke, but recognized this would be a bad time. She cleared her throat, trying not to let herself feel guilty just because this man was angry over something she had nothing to do with. “I wanted to make breakfast for us.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“No, really, I—”

“I’d like you to leave.

She blinked, stunned. “I was only—”

“Leave, now.”

A flush of anger heated her face, and she stalked past him, slipped on her still-damp tennis shoes and left the cabin. The door slammed behind her, punctuating her exit.

[[[[The next morning, from J’s POV, recalling his dreams of warm then empty beds, and, feeling somewhat confused, following the smell of coffee into the kitchen. There he sees Katy standing at the sink, her back to him, the light of the window a grey halo. She’s dressed in her own clothes again, obviously having found them in the dryer in the little washing room next to the kitchen. He approaches her silently, and as he draws near, he notices her inspecting something in her hand. The glint of emerald catches his eye, and he knows what it is. She looks up. “This is beautiful. Was it Maddy’s?” Where did you find that? He’s upset. In the drawer. Blah blah blah, he accuses her of being just like other reporters. He thought she was different. But she had to nose around. They argue. He’s being irrational, but he has just cause for irrationality at the moment. First the dreams of loss and emptiness and guilt, and then he discovers Katy had been snooping, and found the cause of all his unhappiness in the first place. The ring. just like the last woman, who had wiled and beguiled him, a reporter who had smiled pretty and coaxed him into letting her stay with him while she investigated his wife’s death, making him think she was on his side. The story she’d written was so full of lies and innuendo that pointed to foul play, marriage gone sour, etc etc, it sent him into a flying rage. He’d felt so stupid.

The scene ends when she flies out of the cabin, leaping over puddles, and stalks back toward her tent, five minutes down the trail, and David reflects on the above.]]]]

CHAPTER SEVEN

Katy stalked back to her tent in a fuming rage. Disbelief and humiliation clouded her mind, jumbled together in a tidal wave of injury and confusion. Had he actually thought she had been snooping, or meant to steal that ring? How dare he treat her like a faithless miscreant! Certainly, what had happened between them in his small double-bed—too small, anyway, for his towering bulk and another person—suggested the tiniest kernel of trust, didn’t?

But what, exactly, had happened between them? Katy furrowed her brow. Absolutely nothing, that’s what. A little groping in the dark, and then he’d flown out of there as if his ass had been on fire. And it seemed to her that even then a kind of cold anger seethed under his skin.

That was it. He didn’t trust her. To him, she was just a low-life reporter out to get her hooks in him. But, why? What was it about her that made him so sure her intentions were unkind?

Well, if that was what he thought of her, then let him. She had bigger fish to fry. Like her career, for example. It was what she’d told herself in the first place: Don’t get involved. Stay focused. By inviting a little dalliance, she’d gotten what she deserved, the reminder that she needed to stay focused.

When she reached her site, she skirted past her car toward the tent. Broken tree branches and debris blown by the storm lay scattered over the ground. A large tree limb lay splintered and menacing a few feet from the tent, causing Katy to swallow. That could have fallen on the tent while she was in it. She thanked whatever good sense she possessed that she had meant to leave for shelter, and even that David had come to rescue her. Never mind what had happened later in the night and that morning.

Thinking of him made her bristle. She didn’t need Mr. High and Mighty to come to her rescue, and resented that he thought she did. Where did he get off, anyway, riding in there on his white horse to sweep her to safety from the pillaging elements, as if she were some meek mouse, incapable of taking care of herself?

She sniffled and swiped at her nose with the back of her hand, trying not to sneeze again. But there was no help for it. She belted out three in a row, sniffed again, and set to work striking her tent. After pulling out her backpack and sleeping bag, still reasonably dry, she yanked the stakes out of the ground and attacked the poles with fervor, forcing them to yield to her will as she stretched the joints and folded them together. She handled the tent with a ruthlessness she didn’t know she had, rolling it up and tossing the works into her trunk. Then, she picked up the sleeping bag and stuffed it into the backseat, atop the unused bags of supplies and food, and shook her head at the waste. It seemed like a waste all around, to her. A waste of food, of the experience of camping for the first time, of a warm bed, pleasant company and the potential for a little romance.

She didn’t slow until she felt her anger begin to dissipate. Ignoring her growling stomach, she climbed into the car and headed toward the main office. It was still early, but with luck she would find at least one of her interviewees ready to answer her questions, and she’d be on the road before noon. [[[[why didn’t she ask David to answer her questions while she was there? Where are the peas?]]]]

David watched Katy go with a sense of regret, gritting his teeth as she slammed the door behind herself. Already his anger was abating, and he knew he’d been unfair, but he’d been unable to stop himself. It was either that or gather her in his arms and finish what he’d begun the night before, but he couldn’t reconcile his feelings for her with his deep-seated mistrust of people of her kind.

He looked at the ring in his hand. When he had entered the cabin and had seen her standing there, head bent over an object in her hand, he knew exactly what she‘d been looking at. The memory associated with the ring filled him with a sense of familiar outrage, and he’d known he was overreacting even as he grabbed the trinket from her hand.

He tossed it on the counter. He should have gotten rid of it long ago, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it, though he hated the sight of it. It served as a reminder to himself to always be careful, to protect what was his.

He’d left it in the drawer where he’d first hidden it, a surprise for Maddy harvested from the belly of the biggest bass he’d ever caught. The utensil drawer was as good a hiding place as any, since Maddy had not cooked and was as unlikely to find it there as she was to find it in a treasure chest buried deep in the frozen wastelands of Russia.

He’d meant to give it to her over dinner, as a symbol of their recent efforts to repair their marriage and their love for each other. Their recent vows to be tender, and not suspicious and spiteful, in spite of all that had passed before.

Instead, the ring had led to Maddy’s death after she found it looking for a pair of scissors. It lay where she had dropped it eighteen months ago, as she stared at David with accusing eyes, anger and spite distorting the mouth that had once whispered tender things to him.

Sighing, he dropped the ring back into the drawer. He would sell it, he promised himself. He would look into it the next morning. It was bad luck, he was certain. It had first helped kill his wife, destroyed his life, and now it had chased away a woman he found himself reluctant to let go. If he were honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt the feelings of tenderness for anyone that he did toward Katy. Feelings of protectiveness.

He’d been unfair to Katy, wanted to keep her at arm’s length because he was afraid of those feelings he hadn’t even felt for Maddy, they held such power. He was mistrustful because the last woman he’d been with had been a reporter, too, and he’d discovered too late that she was only interested in a story. Katy didn’t deserve, that, he knew. Katy was different. He was sure of it, now.

After a cup of coffee, he showered, shaved, and added a splash of aftershave. Pulling on his coat, he whistled to Farley and they left the cabin together. They set off down the path that led to Katy’s site, but as he turned into the little niche between the trees a few minutes later, he saw she had already left. He glanced at his watch. He knew she had business with some of his employees this morning. With luck, he would catch her there and could apologize, offer to make it up to her.

But her car was not in the main office parking lot when he arrived there. He strode through the door. “Is Katy Sellers still here?” he asked Carol at the counter, sounding abrupt, even to his own ears.

“You just missed her. She left a few minutes ago. Seemed to be in a hurry. She didn’t even wait for Steve to get here. He was the other one—”

“Did she leave a message or anything?”

“Just for Steve.” Carol showed him the note Katy had scrawled, her work number scratched below her name. He was surprised by the messiness of her writing, an uneven scrawl, as if her hand had trouble keeping up with her thoughts. Or her emotions.

“Thanks,” he said, and tucked the note into his pocket.

“Um, that’s for Steve—“

“I’m sure you know what it says, Carol,” he said with a wink and a smile. “You can tell him yourself.”

“But the number?” she asked, two red splotches enflaming her cheeks.

“Steve won’t need it.” He left the office, ignoring Carol’s knowing look.

Later that afternoon, Katy was back at her apartment, lugging the bags of uneaten food and clothing through the door. The phone rang and she dropped it all on the floor to answer it, hoping it was Tracy. She needed a friendly voice.

“Kate? It’s Mona.”

Katy checked a groan that hovered in the back of her throat. Why was her editor calling her at home like this? She must have a sixth sense, phoning the second she walked through the door. “Hi, Mona.”

“Just checking up on you, dear. How’s that article coming along? We go to press tomorrow, and I want it on my desk the moment you get in.”

“It’s coming along fine, I guess.”

“You guess? Haven’t you written it, yet?”

“Um, no. Not really. I just got home.”

There was a long pause. “Just got home from where?”

Katy rolled her eyes, trying to keep her voice under control. “I was doing research at—“

“What kind of research do you need for five-hundred words on camping, for God’s sake?”

“Well, I—“

“Just make a few phone calls and write the thing up! I’m counting on you.” There was another pause. “Or should I arrange for a filler on your page?”

“No! I’ll have it done. It’ll be on your desk in the morning.”

“Good,” Mona said before hanging up. “I’d hate to send you back to your old desk in copyediting.”

There was an abrupt click, and Katy set the dead phone back in its cradle and resisted the urge to scream. Why did Mona insist on turning everything into a drama, finding problems where they didn’t exist and turning them around to make Katy look like a fool?

She shook her head, feeling hopeless, wondering where her life was going. She had to get away from the magazine, but at this fragile point in her career, she’d have to start from the bottom again and work her way up. And Katy did not want to go through all that again. She would just have to buck up and push through it until she could find something better.

Resigning herself to the situation, she retrieved her notebook from the backpack and sat on the couch to review her notes. The first interview had gone well, and the park employee she’d spoken to had given her a lot of good information. By the time the interview was over, the second hadn’t been due for another hour. Katy thought she had enough to go on, and was more concerned about getting home, so she left a message with her apologies, and the suggestion that she might call later in the day with more questions, if she had any. Then she signed with her name and work number.

As she sat at her computer and started writing, however, she didn’t think she’d have more questions. In fact, she had far too much information, enough to write two articles at least. Thinking about it, she wondered if Mona would agree to a two-part story, and then work in a series of articles over the next few months. Excited by the prospect, Katy wrote two versions of the same story, the second in two parts.

As she settled herself in front of the computer that evening, the phone rang. [[[[she hit print, need better transition]]]]

“Hello?”

“Oh, Katy! When did you get home?”

“Tracy, hi. A few hours ago, I guess. I was just finishing up my story.”

“I was so worried about you. Why didn’t you call? Why don’t you ever turn on your cell phone?”

“You’re such a mother hen. The battery on my cell phone died, in case you were wondering. And I was busy, anyway.”

“How was your trip? You made it through the storm?”

“The trip was okay, I guess. I managed to hook up with the head ranger, and he rescued me from my tent during the storm just as I was about to run to the car and get to that one motel up the road.” Katy had no idea where that motel was, or what it was called, but she felt familiar with the idea of it, after the referrals she’d gotten from both David and Tracy.

She explained the story to her best friend who listened quietly, finally responding at the end with a low whistle. “So, have you talked to him, since?”

“No,” Katy said. “He’s a jerk.”

“He sounds like a hottie to me.”

“Well,” Katy admitted, a reluctant smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, “he was pretty hot. Just had a lot of baggage.”

“Mmm. Yeah, that’s unfortunate, but everyone’s got some. I wonder what his story is?”

“Who knows? That whole I-don’t-trust-reporters thing was pretty annoying, though.”

“I think I remember something that was in the news last year. Someone died in some kind of accident.”

“That was his wife,” Katy reminded her friend.

Tracy paused, and Katy heard the second hand of her wall-clock ticking away. “You could do a background check on him. I know someone—”

“I am not going to do a background check on him, Tracy,” she said, rolling her eyes. Tracy was full of nutty ideas.

“I’ll do it, then.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Or you could fische up his wife’s death from the library. Or better yet, look them up on the Internet. Lots of papers archive their stories online.”

“You’re crazy, and I’m exhausted. I need to finish up here and get to bed. Say goodnight, Tracy.”

“Goodnight, Tracy,” her friend replied. “Sweet dreams, darlin’.”

Katy hung up, shaking her head. The idea of doing a background check on David was ludicrous. It would make her the very thing David thought she was: grasping and immoral.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if she planned on seeing him again. She was curious to know what had happened to make him so mistrustful of others. Of her. What could it hurt?

But no. She wouldn’t stoop to that level. She was better than that. If anything, it would damage her integrity. She would always know she had sneaked behind someone’s back to garner information, even if only for personal knowledge, even if no one else knew about it. She would just have to remain in the dark, unless David chose to enlighten her. Which he would never do, since she would never see him again.

Feeling drained, she grabbed her printout and padded to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine, then settled herself at the couch to proofread her work. Sipping at the wine, she thought of David and the pleasant conversation they had had only twenty-four hours earlier. Had it been only last night? It seemed so long ago, to her. Her heart fluttered when she recalled the heat between them in his bed. If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that she was disappointed by the way things turned out. If only their situations were a little different. If only they weren’t so very different from each other. He living the life of an outdoorsman, and she hopelessly city-bound. He’d been married, had suffered the death of his spouse, experienced things she’d never come close to knowing. And probably never would. And what did she have to show for herself?

Who was she fooling, wanting to be a journalist? If she’d been smart, she would have stayed home and made phone calls, like Mona had suggested. She had no knack, she was finding out, for getting down and dirty for the truth. She couldn’t even call herself a true reporter. She was just a hack, writing make-up tips for a magazine that catered to a woman’s vanity, as if a woman held no other value or aim to do more than look beautiful and find a man.

Feeling frustrated with her life, she finished proofreading, and returned to the computer to make her corrections. When she was done, she brushed her teeth and undressed for bed.

Reaching up to unbutton her blouse, she realized that she still wore David’s shirt. She had been so preoccupied that she’d forgotten not just to return it, but that she had it on altogether. Stripping off her jeans and t-shirt, she pulled the flannel shirt back on, shivering in the chilliness of her apartment. At least it would keep her warm, she reasoned, and she didn’t want to turn on the heat this late in the year.

She crawled into bed and closed her eyes. Sleep came to her slowly, but when it took her, it did so with David’s scent filling her senses.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“I knew you had it in you!” Mona declared from the entrance of Katy’s cubicle. One elbow was planted on the top of the wall, the other cocked at her hip. Her bifocals were balanced precariously on her nose, dripping fuchsia-hued chains around her neck.

Katy [[[[stared]]]] at her editor. “I’m glad you like it,” she said blandly, though a flush of pleasure suffused her skin. Of course she had it in her. Was there ever any doubt?

“Like it? I love it. This two-parter is a good idea, but I think we’ll go with the shorter one, this time. No need to make readers commit before they’re ready.”

Katy nodded. “I have ideas for other articles, as well. I was thinking maybe a series?”

Mona nodded slowly. “That’s a great idea. Come to my office after lunch, and we’ll discuss it then. Right now, I have to get this signature to the printer.” She turned abruptly and marched off, flagging down another employee.

Katy bowed her head and put one hand to her eyes, sighing deeply. This was the start she’d been hoping for, to move away from fluff to more substantial topics. Okay, so it’s only camping. But at least it wasn’t makeup. A smile crept across her face, and lightness filled her heart. From this one story, she felt her future opening up before. All was not a hopeless void, after all.

A red file-folder descended before her, dropping onto the keyboard and causing the computer to beep in annoyance. Katy looked up to see Tracy standing in the space Mona had vacated, a grim look of satisfaction on her face.

“What’s this?” Katy asked, touching the folder and lifting a corner with the tip of one finger.

“Background check on Mr. Tight-Ass.”

Katy let the cover fall and [[[[stared]]]] up at her friend, disbelieving. “You didn’t.”

“It’s all right there,” Tracy said, nodding at the folder. “Everything you need to know. Newspaper clippings, police report, the whole shebang. Take a look. You’ll be interested to know.”

“I can’t believe you did this. I told you I didn’t want this—”

“Take a look, Kate, my dear. You’ll be glad you did.”

She peered doubtfully at her friend. “Did you read it?”

“Of course.”

“What does it say?”

Tracy shook her head, sympathy softening her expression. “Read it for yourself. You’ll probably never see him again, so what’s the difference? It’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Katy touched the folder again, feeling doubtful. “How’d you get the police report?”

“I have friends in low places.”

Katy looked at her friend askance. “No, you don’t.”

“Remember that guy I dated last year? Right before I met Rick?”

Katy thought back. “The one with all the food and coffee stains on his clothes?” She wrinkled her nose at his memory.

Tracy nodded. “He’s a private detective.”

“Oh. Did I know this, before?”

“No. I never told you.”

“Why not?”

Tracy shrugged her thin shoulders, avoiding Katy’s gaze. “I hired him.”

Katy’s mouth dropped open. “Why?”

“To spy on the guy I was dating before that.”

Katy was silent a moment. “Is there a dark side to you I don’t know about?” she said finally. “Do you have any more secrets you haven’t told me?”

Tracy fidgeted, the toe of one pointed shoe tapping the floor beneath her.

“Never mind. Don’t answer that,” Katy said, waving her hand and rolling her eyes. Some things were better left unshared.

Like the folder that lay before her. “I wish you hadn’t done this.”

“You’ll be glad I did, Sweetie,” Tracy said, the awkwardness vanishing, and walked away—to return to her cave in marketing, Katy presumed, where she obviously didn’t have anything better to do than check up on confused park rangers with emotional baggage.

“Oh, by the way,” Traci called over the honeycomb of cubicles. “I e-mailed you a copy of that folder, and I have another copy in my files. So don’t bother trying to throw it away. I’ll just keep giving you new ones until you read it.”

Katy held the folder between her hands and frowned at it. How confused was David, really? Unless it was simply a formality surrounding his wife’s death, why would there be a police file on him?

No matter. She might not know David’s story, but she had no right to know unless he told her himself. Which he wouldn’t, because she would never see him again. She tossed the folder to the side, and returned to work, putting the last touches on her article before submitting it to typesetting. The morning passed quickly, until, interrupted by her complaining tummy, she called Traci and offered to buy lunch.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Katy at work. She hands in her article, which her editor thinks is excellent. She wants Katy to write more and asks Katy if she has any ideas. Katy has, and relates them half-heartedly, and her editor is excited by her ideas, even if Katy is not. She conspires with Traci in marketing to help her with the details. No more last-minute planning. Traci agrees to help, give advice, etc. But she thinks Katy should call David. Katy, of course, has no intention of calling him. Eventually, Traci starts snooping around the internet archives of the local paper, and finds out all kinds of information about him, including a background check. She hands Katy a folder, but Katy doesn’t open it. Not right away, anyway.

Okay, so Katy’s at work, Traci has just given her the folder, and Katy puts on top of her In Bin, then forgets it for the moment. She polishes up her article, gets a final okay from her boss, and then files it in the computer system for typesetting. She feels a huge sense of accomplishment, of a job well done, of doors to her future opening wide before her, and she and Traci go out to lunch.

Cut to David’s point of view. He’s getting ready to call her, but instead of doing so, he’s pacing around his office trying to screw up the courage to do so. How about a little comedy here where he reaches for the phone, for example, and then thinks of something he needs to tell the secretary—something about needing to meet with the botanist about the possible tree fungus developing in the northeast corner of the camping grounds. And then again when he buzzes her to say there’s been some wolf attacks reported in Olympia National Park, and wonders if he should phone someone there to offer his tracking services. The secretary (find her name), sighs in exasperation and tells him, in her wise, all-knowing way, to snap out of it, take the bull by the horns (think of something better), and call her. “Call who?” he wants to know, but his voice quavers a little, even manages to squeak even though puberty is long behind him and he’s a man in his late twenties. He feels his face reddening. “Call that reporter woman,” the secretary/front desk lady says. “You know, the nice one.” David cringes but knows she is right. Not everyone is as soulless as the other one. He reaches for the phone.

Kate’s POV. She gets back from lunch and mulls over her conversation with Traci, who hadn’t given up hounding her about reading that file. That month’s stories were being sent to the printer that afternoon, so she was in the brief lull between cycles with nothing much to do but review her calendar for next month’s issue. Not ready to dive into work for another issue so soon, Katy’s gaze falls on the file folder, still lying in the in bin, which is characteristically empty on the day an issue goes to print. Her curiosity gets the better of her and she reaches for the folder, a purple beacon calling out to her. Curiosity killed the cat, but Traci said it was information she would be grateful to have. She leans forward and takes the folder, setting it in front of her. She’s about to open the cover, when the phone rings. It’s David.

And he wants to get together.

 (When they finally get back together, and David finds that folder, he’s going to be upset, but it’ll be irrational on his part. Sort of. He’s going to feel as if his privacy has been violated. But it had been violated long ago, and not by Katy. That’s when he tells her the whole story. Somewhere down the line, maybe Katy’s editor catches wind that her primary source has been the state park ranger whose wife had died, etc., and presses Katy to do a story on it, and that Katy’s career is on the line. Katy wonders what a story like that has to do with a fashion magazine, and actually has the nerve to ask, but her editor says, Figure that out and make it fit. She suggests Snagging the perfect guy for the nature girl. This, of course, doesn’t suit David at all. Katy has to confide that her job is on the line, and David feels torn between maintaining his dignity and putting the past to rest, or making this gesture for Katy, but it would put another rift between them.)

He says at some point that she is sheltered, and at the moment, she accepts it. But  when she mulls it over later on, she wonders who is the sheltered one. He lived his life close to nature and all her wiles. She had grown up a city girl, and enjoyed her way of life. Neither one had much experience with the other’s world, and would be lost and alone if left to their own devices. Each needed a protector on the other side.

IMPORTANT CHANGE!!! David’s wife did not die from a climbing accident. She died as the result of an animal attack. A mountain lion or bear or something. She and David had been arguing, and she stomped off and startled an animal, which then attacked her. The roar or cry of the beast alerted David, and he grabbed up his rifle and ran in the direction she had gone. He found the two of them at a standoff, but he was too late. Just as he crashed into the clearing where they were, the animal attacked (she had gotten between it an a baby cub, or some food or some such thing), and without thinking, David swung up his rifle, took aim and fired. The bullet/cartridge exploded from the barrel and drove through the body of the mountain lion—right into the breast of his estranged wife. She died of course, and David nearly died of the guilt. Lots of reporters, and he only spoke to one, who wiled him into trusting her, then used his grief-stricken revelations/admissions to propel her own journalistic ambitions. He had been criminally investigated, it was debated whether the shooting was accidental or whether he had planned her murder. He was a tracker par excellence, and it was suspected of leading her unawares into a part of the forest where he knew a mountain lion would be. The dead deer, which had shown evidence of being shot by the same caliber rifle or whatever could have been killed and placed there by him, but later forensic investigation proved that the bullet had not come from his rifle (research types of rifles and types of ammo). At least, not from the rifle he had with him. His cabin was searched, his garbage rifled through (so to speak), and he had been interrogated mercilessly. They finally had to let him go for lack of evidence, calling the death accidental. The reporter, who later wrote his story for a local paper, wound up by questioning his innocence. He had not been portrayed in a favorable light by her.