had felt her twin growing further and further away, more distant as the months had passed, but she had been dealing with her own problems and had expected that Mary Theresa would eventually land on her feet again. It had always happened in the past.
But this time it’s different.
She couldn’t tell Becca the truth—well, not all of it; not until she was certain of what had happened herself.
“It’s freezing in here,” Becca complained, and Maggie adjusted the thermostat. True, winter was just around the corner, and as the Jeep climbed higher into the mountains, the temperature dropped. Not surprising since the heater, which needed fixing, was down to two settings—hot as Hades, or cold as death. Take your pick. She opted for Hades as Becca seemed to think she was in danger of contracting frostbite.
“So you were telling me why the Thane guy’s hanging out?” she asked, opening one eye and staring at Maggie, whose hands clenched over the steering wheel. “He and Marquise were divorced a long time ago.”
“I guess he’s just concerned about her.” Maggie nodded, preferring not to dwell on Thane or his reasons for being in Idaho.
“I didn’t think you liked him.”
“I don’t.” At least that wasn’t a lie. At a fork in the road, she angled south. The terrain was rugged, high bluffs that were sheer and dark in the night. “He just thought I might be able to tell him where Mary—Marquise is.”
“Why?” she asked thoughtfully. “Is he still in love with her?”
Undoubtedly. Aren’t they all? “I don’t know,” she said instead, and refused to acknowledge the ache in her heart when she remembered his betrayal, denied the hot sting of Mary Theresa’s deceit.
“But he’s waitin’ for us at the house?”
“I think so. He was going to cool down the horses and lock them away.”
Becca yawned and sighed. “Is he gonna spend the night?”
Maggie took in a sharp, quick breath. “No.” She was emphatic.
“Where, then?”
Good question, Maggie thought sarcastically and one she wasn’t going to dwell upon. Come hell or high water, Thane Walker wasn’t going to spend the night under her roof.
Thane patted Diablo on his spotted rump, then switched off the lights of the barn and walked into the night. Clouds had gathered over the moon, and the wind had picked up, bringing with it the first swirling flakes of snow. Hiking his collar around his neck, Thane stared at the little cabin Maggie called home and wished he were anywhere else on earth. Seeing her again had been a mistake—a big one. But it was too late to second-guess himself. Too late for a lot of things.
He paused at his truck, reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, and found a crumpled pack of cigarettes. There was one Marlboro left, his last smoke if he chose to give in and light up. He’d been cutting down over a couple of months, determined that the carton of filter tips he’d purchased at the end of September would be his last. This lone cigarette was all that was left.
Seeing Maggie again, touching her, smelling that special scent that lingered on his skin, had brought back memories he’d tried like hell to repress.
He’d failed. Miserably. Once the dam on his recollections had started to crack, there had been no stopping the torrent of emotions and images that crashed through his brain. He remembered the first time he’d set eyes on her, a smart aleck of a high-school girl in cutoff jeans, cotton blouse, and freckles. Her eyes had been wide and green, her cheekbones high, her smile as bright as any he’d ever seen.
And she hadn’t given him the time of day.
He’d sensed there was more to her than met the eye, a restless sadness that she’d tried like hell to keep hidden. She’d been a challenge, the first woman he’d had to pursue in years.
He’d been in lust from the first time she’d turned her back on him and, with a careless toss of mahogany-colored curls in a sassy ponytail, walked away. Things hadn’t changed all that much since then.
After being with her today, he’d half convinced himself that tonight was the night he needed that final smoky shot of nicotine, but he tucked his last little crutch back into its dilapidated home and shoved the pack back into his pocket. No doubt he’d need a smoke later.
He checked his watch and figured he had at least an hour before Maggie arrived. Maybe two. Feeling cold snow hit the back of his neck, he headed for the porch and kicked off his boots. He opened the door and ignored a warning growl from the crippled old shepherd lying on a rag rug near an antique rocker. “I’m not gonna hurt anything,” he told the dog.
Eyeing the cozy cabin with its five small rooms and yellowed pine walls, he pulled a pair of gloves from his back pocket, stretched them over his fingers, and steeled his jaw. Without second-guessing himself, he stole down the short hallway to Maggie’s bedroom.
At the doorway he paused, felt a tiny jab of guilt, then tossed it aside as he entered. The room was cramped with its double bed, dresser and a desk shoved under the corner windows.
The scent of Maggie’s perfume lingered in the air and he had to remind himself that he was on a mission; he couldn’t be distracted. According to the old alarm clock sitting on a bedside table, he had just long enough to do what he had to.
Before all hell broke loose.
Chapter Three
Thane was waiting on the porch swing. Huddled in a sheepskin jacket, one booted heel propped on the opposite jeans-clad knee, he glowered into the night, rocking, the swing gently swaying as the wind cut across the valley. Barkley, turncoat that he was, lay docilely near the door.
Maggie braced herself as she cut the engine. She switched off headlights and radio and told herself that her nerves were shot because of Becca’s accident and Mary Theresa’s disappearance. It had nothing to do with Thane and his innate, earthy sexuality. Nothing. She was just tired. There wasn’t a thing about the man that got to her. She was being a fool. Thane Walker was only a man, and a lying one at that.
Slowly he climbed to his feet, and his silhouette was cast in stark relief against the porch light. All male. And dangerous. Long legs covered by low-slung battered jeans, and a chest that was wide enough to be interesting without a lot of extra weight.
Just muscle.
Great.
His physique was the last thing she should notice.
“It’s been too long,” she muttered. Too many months without a man.
“What?” Becca roused.
“Nothing, honey. We’re home.” Pocketing her keys, she touched Becca on the shoulder and looked away from the dark sensuality of a man she didn’t trust, a man who’d stolen her heart only to break it.
Becca blinked and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as snowflakes hit the windshield, collecting on the wipers. She looked at the cabin, lights glowing warmly in the cold night, then rolled her eyes expressively. “Terrific.”
