Falcon's Lair. Sara Orwig

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СКАЧАТЬ white teeth that bit slightly into her rosy, full underlip. As he watched her, the pink tip of her tongue touched her upper lip and he felt desire stir, a curiosity to lean down and taste her lips and tongue and mouth that looked so enticing.

      “I don’t have any difficulty remembering your name.”

      He shrugged and began to fasten the front of her coat, zipping it closed as if she were a child. “I remember how to do that,” she said with a trace of amusement, and he looked into her eyes, seeing a warmth that made him like her in spite of her errand.

      He smoothed her collar, brushing her hair back from her face, suddenly reluctant to move away from her. The moment he realized what he was doing, he stood, pushing up his sleeve to look at his watch.

      “Let’s go to the kitchen to wait.” When he picked her up, she slid her arm around his neck. He tried to ignore the pleasant fit of her in his arms as well as her delicate scent that was growing familiar now.

      “Where am I?”

      “You’re in northern New Mexico in the mountains.”

      “That means nothing to me,” she said with panic in her voice. “I don’t remember where I live or my name or why I’m here. Would you know if I lived near you?”

      “You don’t. I own a spread of land on this mountain and along the valley—I raise cattle. The only other people in the valley are boys on a ranch for homeless kids.”

      “I don’t know why I was driving in this storm, but I feel as if there’s something I need to do.”

      He crossed through the kitchen and hooked his toe beneath a bar stool to pull it out and set her on it. “We’ll wait here for the chopper. I expect it within the next five minutes.” The husky followed them into the room, walking up to the woman and wagging his tail. As she scratched his ears, his tail wagged faster.

      “His name’s Fella.” Ben handed her gloves to her and flipped the parka over her head, fastening it beneath her chin. She watched him solemnly, and he felt caught in the probing look, feeling an electric tension spark between them. His fingers stilled while her gaze seemed to wrap around him and pull him closer into a warmth that he needed.

      His gaze lowered to her mouth, and then he raised his eyes back to hers. Fire danced in the emerald depths, and her eyelids drooped in a sensual look. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt as if danger threatened him while at the same time, desire was as hot as a flame curling inside him. He slid his hand beneath her hood behind her neck, pulling her head toward him as his gaze lowered to her mouth again.

      “We’re strangers,” she whispered.

      “That might make it better,” he answered in a husky, cynical voice.

      “I know I can trust you with my life,” she said solemnly, “because I wouldn’t have survived out there in the storm.”

      He was torn between wanting to savage her mouth, to take her lips and kiss her with all the passion and anger and curiosity he felt, to let her know she had voluntarily sought out the wolf in his lair and she would have to pay the price. At the same time, her eyes were trusting and warm with a sensuality that should be savored—a combination of innocent trust and womanly certainty that rocked him and made him want to brush her lips lightly with his own. He wanted to take care and time to ignite the passion that he suspected she was capable of. The thought startled him, and he wondered why he felt that way about her when he didn’t even know her.

      His gaze was locked with hers again and he saw her reaction; she wanted his kiss. Was she one of the high-priced call girls, the thousand-dollar-a-night babes his father thought would entice him? Or one of the special ones who played for higher stakes, trying to win his heart because of Weston’s money? Anger surged and then ebbed as he looked down at her lips and slowly leaned his head closer. Her lashes lowered, and she closed her eyes while she placed her palms against his chest.

      The pulsating clatter of the helicopter’s motor grew louder, cutting into the spell and making Ben swear silently as he paused only inches from her. She turned her head toward the door.

      “Here comes the helicopter.” The note of fear in her voice was mirrored in her eyes when she gripped his hand. “Will you stay with me? You’re the only person I know.”

      “I’ll be with you,” he promised gruffly, suspecting when memory returned, she would regret keeping him close and guessing that the fear was uncustomary for her. She had been brave—or foolhardy—enough to try to get to his place in a blinding storm, determined enough to feel she could successfully follow Weston’s wishes and bring the wayward son home.

      Ben picked her up and she wound her arms around his neck again. When he opened the door, the husky bounded outside, barking at the noisy chopper as it set down only yards from the house, a dark bulk in the bright lights and brilliant snow.

      Ben hurried to it, climbing inside while medics took her from his arms. Catching a glimpse of Zeb as he strode toward the house, Ben waved and saw Zeb wave in return.

      When the chopper lifted, Ben rode beside her, holding her hand in his, aware she kept her gaze on him steadily while they whisked skyward. He glanced down at his place, the snow sparkling in the brightness of the yard lights and then they swept across the darkened land and he saw the shadows of spruce and pine and boulders that were dark against the snow. For an instant he felt a surge of satisfaction that came occasionally when he looked at his land. He had bought the first acres with savings and he was gradually enlarging, determined to carve a life for himself here, far removed from his past.

      Like a noisy spinning top, the chopper raced across the night sky to set down outside a hospital in Albuquerque.

      When she was taken to Emergency, Ben stood at the admitting desk, filling out papers, signing that he would be responsible for the bills.

      “Ben,” a deep voice said, and Ben glanced around to see a lanky, white-coated doctor. Ben moved away from the desk to talk to his friend, tall, sandy-haired Kyle Whittaker, who folded his arms and leaned against the wall to listen as Ben related how he had found Jennifer and taken her home.

      “She doesn’t remember anything, and I didn’t find any identification,” Ben said, knowing he was holding back on his friend, but he wanted to talk to Weston before the hospital was involved.

      “We’ll check her over. The memory loss may be gone within hours.”

      “That’s what I figured.”

      “Since you don’t know her, do you want to wait or turn it over to us and the Albuquerque police to locate her family?”

      “I’ll wait.”

      Kyle arched a sandy eyebrow and studied Ben. “That’s not the answer I expected.”

      Ben shrugged. “She seems vulnerable right now.”

      “I’ll keep you informed.”

      Ben nodded and watched him walk away. In minutes Ben finished admittance formalities at the desk and he crossed the lobby to a narrow alcove with pay phones. With one quick call he could get her identity and have someone come pick her up and take her to Dallas where she belonged. He stared at the phone and felt a momentary reluctance as he remembered gazing into her green eyes and recalled the soft touch of her fingers on his cheek.

      “Dammit.” СКАЧАТЬ