was nearly zero, and even the short trek between the lodge and its various outbuildings and sheds was an arduous one given the grueling wind-driven snow. Paul had a considerable stockpile of firewood, but if the storm kept up as predicted and power remained out, Mac thought he might eventually have to take the ax he’d found in the toolshed to a couple of the trees surrounding the place. Not a prospect he relished, considering the weather.
“Hold it right there, you varmint!” A pint-size bandito brandishing twin cap pistols and wearing a bandanna over his nose leapt out from behind a fort of pillows and blankets draped over chair backs.
“Don’t shoot, Tex. I’m one of the good guys.”
“That’s what they all say, partner. Now reach for the sky.”
Mac’s lips twitched as he dumped the wood on the hearth. “Bloodthirsty galoot, aren’t you?”
“I ain’t no galoot—I’m a cowboy!” Pulling down his kerchief, Nicky gave Mac an indignant look.
Unfastening his parka, Mac added sticks to the fire and punched it up. “I’d never have guessed.”
“Well...well, shoot!” Disgusted, Nicky plopped down on the sofa arm. “Bet if I had a horse you could tell. I hope Santa brings me one. Think he will?”
That stopped Mac. “Uh, hard to say. Where’s your mother? Upstairs?”
“Nah.” Nicky rolled onto his back and began to drum his heels on the sofa. “Outside. She made me stay here. What does ‘hold down the fort’ mean, anyway?”
“What the hell!” An image of Marisa frozen in a snowbank flashed through Mac’s head. The vision was at once ludicrous, startling and scary. “Outside? Where?”
“Checking the gen-gena—”
“Generator?”
“Yeah. And you’d better not let Mommy hear that bad word. She’ll make you sit in the time-out chair.”
“She won’t be able to sit when I get through with her!” Muttering darkly, Mac jerked at his parka zipper. “Damn fool woman—what’s she thinking?”
Halfway across the den, he turned abruptly and pointed a finger at Nicky. “You stay put until I get back. Sheriff’s orders. Okay, Tex?”
Nicky’s eyes were wide. “Yes, sir. Can I be your deputy?”
“You got it, kid.”
The boy’s awed and triumphant voice followed Mac out the door. “I knew he was a cowboy.”
The wind hit Mac smack in the face and took his breath away. Leaning against it, he came down the porch steps, ducked his head and slogged through the growing drifts toward the small lean-to attached to the combination barn and garage set behind the lodge proper. From the power lines strung from it, he guessed it was the location of the generator. On a clear day, there would be a commanding view of the snow-topped Sierra Nevada peaks in the distance, but now everything was just a gray white blankness, the silhouettes of the buildings barely visible and the outline of Marisa’s tracks already disappearing.
The wind buffeted Mac’s shoulders, and ice particles stung his cheeks. Marisa was so slender, just a puff at this force could send her tumbling down the mountainside—and then what? That she would be stupid enough to place herself—and therefore the kid—in danger incensed him. He burst through the door of the lean-to in a rage. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Marisa jumped and dropped the flashlight with which she’d been inspecting the gasoline-powered generator. The beam went out when it hit the concrete floor, and the little room was plunged into almost total gloom. “Now look what you’ve made me do!” Falling to her hands and knees, she groped for the flashlight. Clad in a puffy down jacket, knitted cap and gloves, she looked as young and delectable as any ski-resort snow bunny. Then she found the flashlight, flicked it on and speared him right in the eyes with the bright beam. “At least close the damn door.”
He kicked it shut, but the violence did little to relieve the pressure that was building up inside. “Just what the devil are you doing?” he roared.
Her chin came up. “Giving this thing another look. You got a problem with that?”
“You’re damn right I do!” He stepped closer, grabbed her arm and shook her, making the flashlight beam bounce. “From now on, don’t you poke that pretty nose of yours outside without telling me first. Is that clear?”
“I don’t take orders from you, Mahoney.”
“Don’t let that ridiculous stiff-necked pride of yours get you in trouble. This isn’t the kind of weather you can play around in.”
“I wasn’t playing. I was trying to help!”
“Then use your head. Unless all that daytime drivel you’ve been feeding the viewing public has left it totally empty.”
Her teeth snapped together. “Keep your contempt for my profession to yourself.”
“Now there’s a trick and a half! Last time I had the misfortune to tune in, you and that pretty boy you play against were cuddled up in a hot under-the-covers scene. Tell me, do you often work naked in this ‘profession’ of yours?”
Marisa’s eyes flashed her annoyance. “Dear Mac. As abrasive and crude as ever.”
“I’m paid to ask the hard questions, honey,” he drawled.
“Eric and I share a great respect for each other’s work. It’s a matter of trust and communication.” Her voice went sugar sweet. “But some people have trouble understanding such a simple, basic concept. And, unlike others I can name, Eric has never made so much as a single off-color remark to me.”
“Too tongue-tied by your beauty au naturel, I guess.”
“For your information, Eric and I have never gotten naked together...on camera.” Smiling as he chewed on that, Marisa pointed at the generator. “Now, why don’t you use a little of that brute strength you’re so fond of showing off to crank this thing!”
Jaw taut, Mac glared at her, then reached for the starter rope. Ten frustrating minutes later, he gave up. “It’s no use. If I could break it down, maybe clean out the carburetor...”
Marisa sighed. “Forget it then. We’ll just have to make do.”
“Not something a princess is accustomed to, eh?”
She looked blank for a moment, then pitched the flashlight at his head and stormed out of the lean-to. Mac ducked and went after her, his temper at the flash point. He caught up with her in two steps, looped his arm around her waist and physically dragged her into the garage, ignoring her futile attempts to break free as the wind howled around them.
“Let me go!”
Shutting the garage door behind them, Mac obliged, thrusting her down onto a pile of stacked boxes. “Sit. And shut up. We’re going to get a few things straight.”
“I’m sick of you!” Marisa whipped
