Slow Fever (5 page)

Kylie needed time to deal with the aftereffects of her divorce. She needed a good solid man like her brother and the other men in Freedom Valley, who cherished and courted their brides. Michael knew little about what ran between a man and a woman, how to keep it safe and warm and glowing. But he’d seen it with Paul and Anna Bennett, and Kylie deserved the same care in a relationship.

Michael rubbed his hand along his jaw and the scraping sound reminded him of how he must have looked to her—tough, tired and wanting to lift her up in his arms and carry her out into the night.

A throbbing headache lurked at his temples. He wasn’t the man for Kylie Bennett Patton, all-American sweetheart, a woman meant for traditional courtship. In Freedom Valley, according to custom, that meant that she’d be doing the courting and pacing the relationship. She’d be asking for dates and the trial marriage in which they lived together and the Committee for the Welfare of Brides would visit the home and—Michael heard his groan echo as he entered his empty, shadowed house. He checked the security locks, punched the message machine button and listened to Karolina’s furious recorded threat. “Don’t you think you can jump my friend, Fast Hands Cusack. She’s not going to be one of your women.”

“Thank you, Karolina. As if I needed that reminder.” Michael smiled slowly when the messages continued. His stock broker had heard of a good investment and Mrs. Morley had decided her breaker box wasn’t working. Mrs. Morley was lonely and loved company and Michael always obliged her calls, though there was no electrical problem.

Whatever Karolina’s opinion of him, he’d always liked
her. He infuriated Karolina on another level—her “Super Snoop” powers couldn’t delve into a life he wanted to remain very private.

He’d always preferred privacy, using it as a shield. In contrast, Kylie was a whirlwind, diving into life, loving it.

He could taste more on Kylie’s lips than sensual need—he could taste a future that wasn’t meant for him, and that knowledge terrified him…because he could hurt her.

The next night, Kylie lay fully dressed on top of her sleeping bag, studying the flames of her campfire. A fast set of push-ups and sit-ups and running in place had left her tired, damp with sweat, and still brooding about Michael’s very knowledgeable kiss. Its tempting heat hovered around her now. She could still taste the hunger on his lips—too dark and stormy and mysterious. He’d lightly circled her lips with his parted ones and the exquisite torture frustrated and heated.

After Michael’s kiss, her personal thermostat was simmering; she’d needed the chilly mountain night alone with her thoughts. With a supreme effort, she dragged off the sweat-dampened bandanna from her forehead. Kylie listened to the slowing beating of her heart—it had raced when Michael had kissed her and the sensual tug right there on the dance floor had shot directly low in her belly. The physical need to have him, to stop the aching, was overpowering—she wasn’t certain what would have happened if he hadn’t walked away.

She damned him for walking away as if he hadn’t been simmering, too.

The small clearing was where her family had camped every year, a stream tumbling nearby. After Michael’s sizzling kiss, she needed time alone, away from the haunting, tender memories of her mother. She wasn’t certain that
Anna would approve of her fantasies—how Michael’s powerful back would feel beneath her fingertips, how he would feel over her, in her and hungry.

Kylie moved her hand from her racing heart—its tempo wasn’t only from her workout, but from the memory of how Michael had looked at her, as if nothing else mattered. With an effort, she sat up, pushed up her red sweatshirt and shimmied out of her elastic exercise bra. The firm tug required to slide it over her hips reminded her of the extra pounds she’d put on while lamenting her life. More comfortable now, she flopped the undergarment over her backpack and lay back onto her bedroll. Last night, her basic instincts had told her to run him down and have him.

Kylie ran her hands through her hair, lifting the sweaty ringlets away from her face onto her favorite pillow. Michael was a great big smudge on her peace of mind, but then he’d always been.

An autumn leaf swirled lazily down into the fire and ignited, just as she had when Michael’s big hand had cupped the back of her head, positioning her for his kiss. An experienced man, he’d known how to hold her firmly in place, taking what he wanted. For an instant, the primitive image of a stallion overtaking a mare in season ripped through her. But even before that, Michael’s mouth seduced; she’d been unprepared for the darker elemental storm that had followed—the seduction.

“Exactly what do I know about being seduced? Or seducing? Leon wasn’t exactly hungry for me,” she asked the moon above the pine branches.
But Michael was hungry, the tip of his tongue prowling her lips, gently invading her mouth to set off the rocketing heat within her.

Kylie lay on her back, looking up at the clear Montana night through the stark, leafless branches of the aspens.
Suddenly a noise sounded too close and a tall, hard-looking man stepped into the firelight—“Michael!”

Dressed in a flannel lined denim jacket and jeans, he slung his sleeping bag and backpack from his shoulder to the earth. He suddenly crouched to place a hand on her chest, pinning her firmly to her sleeping bag. She caught his scent, that slightly spicy blend of aftershave and the dark nuances of his temper. “Your brother is worried about you. Notes like ‘I’m going camping. Back soon,’ don’t cut it.”

He caught her swatting hands easily, holding them in one hand as his other tested the damp strands around her face. His gaze ran down her sweat clothing, the damp vee at her chest, locking on the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. Suddenly Michael freed her hands as if they’d just scorched him and stood scowling down at her. He looked hard, the firelight deepening the lines bracketing his mouth and between his black slashing brows. “Let me guess. You’re burning off excess sexual energy.”

“I’m burning off pounds, not sexual energy,” she lied, glaring up at him.

“Sure,” he said flatly. “You had to come up here, alone, to do that?”

Unpredictable as always, she’d scared the hell out of him. This time of year, an early snowfall could take bears and wolves searching for food. She could have slipped, falling into those jutting, deadly ravines. He hadn’t realized his blood could run so cold, or his fear could rise so high. He’d pushed himself up the mountain, half running, his sides aching, his heart pounding with fear, only to find her dreaming by her campfire, snug and warm. She had the ability to terrorize him and that frightened him, too. He didn’t like the quivering emotions within him, the unrighteous need to hold her tight and safe for the rest of his life.

Kylie sat up and looped her arms around her bent knees. How could a man’s mouth be so sweet and tender and hungry and then become an unrelenting line? “I’m certain you wouldn’t know anything about excess sensual energy. How long has
she
been gone—two whole days?”

In the firelight, Michael’s grin was slow and devastating. “I told you she was a friend.” His tone taunted.

At least he had that, a little jealous spark from her, to comfort his torn nerves.

“What are you doing here, anyway? Why do you always turn up when I’m putting myself together?” But Michael was studying the clearing and Kylie knew he was remembering when her father had brought them both up here. Wary of revealing his hard life, Michael had only been eight to her six, and her father had taught him how to fish. Even then, Michael had known life’s hard skills, a boy trying to survive. Poorly fed and clothed, Michael had “made-do” for himself—and not always by legal means. Her parents had both spoken for him when the sheriff came circling him. Those few days away on the camping trip were meant for her alone—Tanner and Miranda didn’t want her tagging after them and she’d been hurt. But she didn’t mind sharing her father with Michael. Paul Bennett was a gentle man and he’d put his arm around Michael, speaking to him quietly. Michael had tensed, his face paling, but he’d answered, his dark eyes brilliant with unshed tears.

He hadn’t known a man like Paul Bennett before, Michael thought, remembering back to the man’s calm, easy voice. A man to trust, Paul had been everything in a father that Michael had dreamed of and hadn’t had. He’d have given his soul to be Paul Bennett’s son, then and always. He hadn’t known that fathers could talk so gently, explaining the right and the wrong and the confusion of love and hurt.

Kylie studied Michael’s blunt cheekbones, those incredible lashes concealing his thoughts, the tight, wary set of his body. The day they’d come down from the mountain, her father’s expression was grim. She’d heard the stories later: her father had been terminally ill, and yet he’d gone to the Cusack shack and called out Fred Cusack. Her father had shamed Fred then, in front of the town, exposing him as a bully. Then he’d turned to Michael. “You can stay with us if you want. You’re a good boy. You’ll be a fine man. I believe in you. Just keep to the good track and be what a man should be. Keep your pride and your honor,” Paul Bennett had said, then he’d walked off, giving Michael his choices.

Her mother had said that Michael stayed with his drunken father because of pride and because he’d known that she—as a widow—could little afford to take him. Fred had died when Michael was eighteen and already gone from Freedom Valley. But he’d returned periodically, and in later years, eventually had been able to replace Fred’s charity grave marker with a proper tombstone.

“You can’t stay here,” Kylie said to Michael, the adult male invading her retreat, as he unrolled his sleeping bag. She resented her mouth watering and her hurry to tear open the box he’d just tossed her, stuffed with raspberry filled pastries. Michael Cusack was an absolute, certified beast, testing her resolve. “This won’t get you anywhere,” she managed to mumble around a mouthful of delicious pastry. “I’m on a diet. That’s why I’m working out.”

“I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, stretching his arms high and scanning the stars. “I used to come up here. Your mom packed me lunches and your dad gave me my first fishing pole.”

“Well, you probably haven’t had time lately. Or energy. After all, you’ve been too busy with all your women
friends.” Kylie didn’t try to conceal her sarcasm. She swallowed the pastry hard, her heart thumping as she noted how Michael’s jeans had slipped a bit on his hips. She looked away into the brush, at a night animal foraging in it. “Leave me alone, Michael.”

“Can’t. I promised your brother that I’d see you were safe. He’s married now, and can’t go chasing up mountains at night after you.”

“So what are you? My guardian? I’m safe. I’ve been here hundreds of times before, and alone. I prefer ‘alone.”’

Michael ignored her broad hint and lifted her exercise bra strap on one finger, studying it. “No cups and no hooks. Gray and no lace. What’s the world coming to? I remember when Tanner and I wrapped these around the backs of chairs and tried to unhook them without looking.”

“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice since then.” Kylie grabbed the garment and stuffed it into her sleeping bag.

Michael studied her closely. “My, my, my. You still blush.”

“You just came up here to torment me. Go away.” Kylie licked the raspberry center from a pastry and Michael inhaled sharply.

The firelight emphasized his tanned face, the unusual dark red glow in his cheeks. “I came because I wanted to give the bears and the cougars a chance to survive… I was worried, okay? I don’t like it, but I was.”

He rummaged through her utensils, found a skillet and stoked up the fire. From his backpack, he took a wrapped package containing chicken breasts, flopping them onto the olive oil already in the skillet. While they sizzled and the water he placed on the fire was heating, Michael looked directly at her over the campfire. His expression was grim.
“I had a sister. I know what it’s like to worry about her. Don’t eat too many of those. You need real food.”

“I had a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich…. I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Michael neatly chopped zucchini squash and added it to the sizzling chicken. “She was a lot older. My mother took Lily with her. I was left with my father. I was only three.”

“I can’t imagine a mother leaving a child—I know it happens and for good reasons, but I could never— Where is your sister now?”

“Dead. So is my mother. I learned later that she’d had to leave or die, and she’d tried to get me back.” Michael’s flat tone left no room for more questions, his expression dark and brooding as if an unpleasant memory had just slipped by. He finished preparing the meal, adding cooked linguine to the skillet. They ate quietly, Kylie aware that Michael’s thoughts were on his sister.

“You’re like your mother,” he said when Kylie had helped him wash and dry the utensils. “You understand.”

“Some things I do.” Kylie grabbed a donut and munched it to keep her mouth busy. Otherwise, she’d attack him for kissing her last night. She didn’t want him to think that kiss mattered to her. Michael lay down on his bedroll, and the long length of his body, the memory of it hard against her as they danced, set off her instincts to feast upon him. She swallowed the donut and heard her voice erupt into the night. “I didn’t understand that kiss last night, Michael. There was no cause for it. You were either showing off—proving that you still have whatever macho talent that is important to males—or you had missed a night of a sex-fest.”

“I was waiting for that. Are you going to sleep in that sweaty getup, or are you cleaning up?”

Kylie leaped to her feet, and instantly her strained mus
cles protested. “I’m exercising to lose weight, Michael, and you deliberately brought my favorite—”

“You look good,” Michael said, but his eyes were drifting over her unbound breasts and the nipples peaking against the cloth. Her body took the impact of that slow gaze, heating and vibrating beneath it.

She looked down at the box of high-priced chocolates that he’d just tossed to her. A jar of raspberry jam followed. He grinned as she held them. “You’ve got good skills, Kylie. Caught one in each hand.”