jolt to his system. There was definitely something about touching her that was downright dangerous. And he knew plenty about danger.
He crossed to the door and pulled on a parka. “I’m going to gather more firewood. And check the shed for a generator.”
“A generator?”
“In case this storm decides to hang around. It’ll give us enough juice to heat the water and keep the pipes from freezing.”
When he let himself out, Ciara carried her cup to the fire and stood staring thoughtfully into the flames. It occurred to her that if Jace hadn’t intruded on her privacy, she would be facing this storm alone. The terror she’d felt last night when she’d thought a stranger was breaking into the cabin would be nothing compared to the terror she’d be experiencing right now if she were dealing with this on her own.
She had come here thinking she’d find peace and solitude in the rugged mountains. Then she’d found herself fighting off an intruder. She’d had her moment of panic, especially when he’d overpowered her and wrestled the rifle from her hands. But within minutes she’d been reassured that he wasn’t here to do her physical harm. Being trapped in a sudden spring blizzard, alone and unable to go for help, would have left her terrified. She probably would have been pacing the floor by now, consumed with fear and praying for a road crew to rescue her.
For some strange reason she felt safe with Jace here to help her deal with the problems. He had the look of a survivor. There was a toughness about him. And an aura of danger and independence. Wherever he’d spent the past years, she’d be willing to bet it wasn’t someplace snug and safe.
Still, she didn’t intend to let down her guard. There would be not one word spoken about Brendan, the wedding in two weeks that she’d run from, or her future plans that could be revealed later to the media. She had no intention of forgetting the fact that Jace Lockhart—soulful eyes aside—was a reporter.
After heating water in the kettle over the fire, she washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen. She was just finishing when Jace returned, carrying another armful of logs.
“The snow’s letting up.” He nudged the door shut with his hip and walked to the fireplace, where he deposited the firewood.
“Did you find a generator?”
“Yeah. Looks pretty old and rusty, but I’ll test it later to see if it works. Even if it doesn’t, there’s enough wood to keep us warm.” He added another log to the fire. “I spotted your red convertible out in the shed, Hollywood. It suits you. But it’ll be pretty useless in all this snow.”
She winced, knowing Jace was right. The little foreign sports car wouldn’t make it around the first bend in a road covered with ice and snow.
Jace opened the door, retrieving several empty boxes. “I found these in the shed. We can put the perishable food in them. There’s a shelf high enough to keep them out of the reach of most animals.”
She started removing some food from the refrigerator. “Except the bears.”
He joined her and gave a quick smile. “Ah, those bears. Clever beasts.”
Now why did her heart have to do that sudden free fall whenever he got too near? She gathered up the carton of milk and turned, bumping into his chest. Her fingers fumbled and she dropped it. It was only Jace’s quick reflexes that kept it from hitting the floor. And all the while, he kept his gaze locked on hers.
“All this talk about bears is going to give me nightmares tonight.” She knew she was babbling, but she needed to say something to cover her awkwardness.
“Do you get them often?” He packed the carton in the box and waited while she rummaged about, locating cheese and eggs.
She nodded, sobering suddenly. “Often enough to miss a lot of sleep.”
“You’re not alone.”
“You too?” She looked up. The laughter was gone from his eyes. In its place was a bleakness that startled her. Her gaze was drawn to the scar on his cheek, and she found herself wondering if that had anything to do with his bad dreams.
She turned away and scanned the contents of the refrigerator one last time. “I guess that’s everything.” She opened the freezer. “What about all this?”
He nodded, relieved that she’d changed the subject. “We’ll have to store that in the shed, too. If it starts to thaw, we’ll just have to cook everything and have ourselves a feast.”
She lifted out neatly labeled packages and stacked them in the box. When she was finished, Jace set aside two packages.
“I hope you’re not a vegetarian,” he said.
“No. Why?” She eyed the packages suspiciously. “What’s that?”
“Tonight’s dinner.” He winked, and Ciara’s heart did another flip. “My sister, Mary Ellen, always did have a good eye for prime beef.”
He hefted the boxes and carried them to the shed where he stored them on a high shelf, placing several heavy boards over the top to keep any curious animals away.
Then he began tinkering with the generator. As he worked he found himself thinking about Ciara. She might have teased about packing a bikini, but the truth was, the clothes she’d brought were hardly the Hollywood type. She looked as natural in jeans and a flannel shirt as she did in those sexy, glittery gowns she usually shed in her movies. She seemed different too, from the brainless characters she portrayed. There was a sense of humor beneath the sultry looks. And a sensitivity he hadn’t anticipated. Despite her earlier attacks on his chosen profession, she’d instantly backed off when she’d caught a glimpse of his pain.
He turned away, rubbing his cheek. He was reading too much into all this. And spending entirely too much time and energy thinking about Ciara Wilde. She wasn’t the problem at the moment. Survival was.
As he stepped from the shed he glanced skyward. The snow had stopped, at least for the moment, and the sun was actually trying to break through the clouds. But if the storm clouds to the north were any indication, there could be more snow on the way. He was determined to keep a supply of firewood beside the fireplace at all times. That way, no matter how much snow fell, they’d be warm.
A short time later he strolled back inside, scraping snow off his boots as he did. Leaning against the door he watched as Ciara poked at the fire before adding another log. The thin fabric of her T-shirt strained against her breasts, and he felt a rush of heat that had nothing at all to do with the warmth in the cabin.
“You’re getting pretty good at that.”
She looked up, drew her flannel shirt tighter before closing the firescreen. “Yeah. In no time I’ll be baking bread and spinning wool into cloth.”
“Now those were the good old days.” He studied the way her jeans molded to her hips, and decided that he definitely needed to cool off. “The snow’s ended. I think I’ll take a walk. Want to come?”
She shook her head. “I’d love to. But the warmest thing I packed was a denim jacket.”
He pointed to a door off the kitchen. “There are parkas and boots in that storage closet.”
She
