The Accidental Bride. Christina Skye

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СКАЧАТЬ He reached around her. “Let me get this for you.” He scooped up her suitcase before she could react. “You’ve got the tote to carry. Winslow, sit.”

      Jilly watched the dog move over, sitting while Walker clipped on his leash to lead him outside. She didn’t speak as they walked out to the cab. Something about the whole incident made her tongue-tied.

      “Have a safe trip, ma’am. Say goodbye, Win.”

      At the drawled command, the big dog held out one paw. Jilly shook it and then scratched the soft head. “Drop by the resort if you want a food sampling. I make a killer chocolate mousse.” She slanted a look at Walker and frowned. There was something very intriguing about all that distance and cool control. Even now he gave nothing away. And the more he hid … the more Jilly wanted to pry out of him.

      “Do you live in town?”

      “Nope,” Walker murmured. With a nod to the taxi driver he stowed her bag in the trunk.

      After a moment Jilly slid inside. “Somewhere nearby then?”

      “Nope.” He closed her door, gave a two-finger wave and tapped on the hood. “Enjoy the resort, ma’am.”

      As the taxi drove away, he stood motionless, one hand on Winslow’s head.

      Jilly wondered why he had avoided both of her questions. It didn’t feel like rudeness. More like habit. And there was a definite story here. Piecing it together would help her fill the time over the next ten days. Besides, that dog of his was special. Too smart and well trained to be a simple pet.

      Nothing wrong with a pet, of course. But Jilly O’Hara recognized a trained service dog when she saw one.

      And what did that make Walker Hale?

      “PRETTY LADY, WIN. Nice eyes. A little high-strung though.”

      The big brown lab watched the taxi vanish over the hill, then turned to look expectantly at his owner.

      “What do you think?”

      Winslow raised his head and gave a low howl that rose and fell like wolfsong.

      “So you agree about the high-strung part. But you liked her. You made that very clear. And she had a real nice laugh.”

      Winslow turned and looked after the taxi, tail wagging.

      “Great legs, too. Not that I was looking.”

      But he had looked. And at more than her legs, Walker thought. That lace thing from her suitcase had hit him right in the gut. What man wouldn’t fantasize about seeing a woman in something that lacy and sheer?

      Walker rubbed his shoulder, which had begun to ache again. Too many long flights. Too little downtime.

      He forced away the pain by habit and turned his mind back to the woman. She had long dark hair that curled over her shoulders. Green eyes that glinted when she got angry.

      She seemed to get angry fast. He smiled at the way she had ripped into him when he’d said Arizona was too hot. No mincing words, she had stuck up for a place she loved. He liked that kind of loyalty.

      Yet when she mentioned Arizona she had looked sad. Almost lost. She had touched her chest as if it hurt.

      Broken relationship? Marriage called off?

      Hell, it was none of his business. Too long between dates, Walker told himself.

      Too long between anything at all. He’d have to do something about that one of these days.

      Frowning, he rubbed his neck. He remembered how her face had flushed and how quickly she had sat down. She had recovered fast, at least. But was it because of dehydration or something more serious?

       None of your business, Hale.

      And right now he had work to do.

      A whole mountain of work waited, back at his cabin. He had a new set of mission plans to review. After that he and Winslow had to work out half a dozen new drill scenarios.

      The training would help U.S. troops using service dogs in hostile mountain terrain all over Afghanistan. Walker and Winslow were something of a legend in their work. Since his medical discharge from the marines, Walker was in high demand as a combat training consultant. He traveled for work, and coming home to the mountains was always a relief. Everything he needed or wanted was right here in this small town. Nothing would change that.

      So he pushed Jilly O’Hara’s husky laugh and sexy underwear out of his mind, shouldered his heavy duffel bag and headed off to his Jeep with Winslow trotting alertly at his side.

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      THE FIELDSTONE BUILDINGS of Lost Creek Resort hugged a valley between two peaks. Small cottages circled a rugged lodge and two guest wings. Jilly imagined how beautiful the tree-lined slopes would look blanketed in snow.

      As the taxi drove up the winding road bordered by pines and aspens, she gave up trying to get Walker Hale out of her mind. “So … do you know that man at the airport?” she asked her driver casually. “The one with the dog. He’s a local?”

      “Walker Hale? Sure. He’s been here awhile. He’s got a nice place up the mountain. Family’s had a place here for generations. His dog is real nice, too. Trained and everything. Heard both of ‘em were fighting over in Afghanistan.”

      “The dog, too?”

      The taxi driver nodded. “In the marines over there. Dog helped with security. Both got hit. Walker nearly got himself killed saving Winslow. Least that’s how I heard it.” The driver rounded a curve, and they cruised past low stone fences that framed the last of the year’s wildflowers.

      Jilly soaked in the beauty while she processed the new information about Walker Hale and his dog. “Wow. I thought his dog looked smart.”

      “He takes real good care of Winslow. Not too social though. He doesn’t come into town much except for food and coffee. We got a new coffee shop this year,” the driver said proudly. “You should stop in. They could use the business.”

      “I may do that.” Jilly thought longingly of a frothy mocha latte with a dusting of cinnamon. But she had sworn to cut down on her caffeine, and she didn’t want to go back on her promise.

      She didn’t confess that the real draw was encountering Walker—and his enchanting dog—again very soon.

      HER ROOM—A SUITE ACTUALLY—was a cabin nestled in a grove of aspen trees. Their white trunks and dancing golden leaves made Jilly sigh in sheer delight. The rustic log design was peaceful and the clear mountain air seemed to calm her soul.

      In her old, driven mode she would have rushed off to dig up every detail about her cooking classes the following day. But the new Jilly was determined to slow down and enjoy the scenery. Instead of fuming or worrying, she kicked off her shoes, opened the big French doors and wandered out to the stone patio overlooking the valley.

      The view was drop-dead amazing, all green slopes and ridges above the distant valley and town СКАЧАТЬ