had. But that little dig about giving his sympathies to whichever man had last been in her life had come a little too quickly after Kelly had brought up the same damn thing.
It wasn't that Keira was sensitive about her past; she just didn't like being reminded of what an idiot she'd been once upon a time.
But that was the past and this was now. And all that mattered now was making sure Nathan didn't leave before his month was up. She was pretty sure he was tired of having her show up on his doorstep every day, but she kept visiting him anyway, because she could practically see his need to leave vibrating in the air all around him.
And she wouldn't let that happen.
Parking the truck in the drive, she hopped out, slammed the door and headed for the front door. Dark clouds hung heavy over the mountains and the air felt thick with the promise of more snow. As much as she loved winter in the mountains, she was really ready for spring. Unfortunately, it looked as if nature didn't feel the same way.
She shivered, dug her hands into her jacket pockets and quickened her step, only to stop when she heard Nathan's voice shout, “Back here.”
Surprised to find him outside and away from the laptop that he clung to like his last link with civilization, Keira headed down the drive. She saw him at the lake's edge and she wasn't ashamed to admit, at least to herself, that the man was really sigh-worthy.
He wore that dark green cashmere sweater again over jeans that looked worn and comfortable. His brown leather jacket gave him a piratical air, and the wind tossed his hair across his forehead, making him look more free than she could remember seeing him before. Her heart jumped a little and her mouth went dry.
She could be in some serious trouble here. Especially if he started looking at her the way he had the night of the party.
“What're you doing?” she called as her boots crunched on the gravel drive.
He gave her a quick look, then shifted his gaze back to the steel gray surface of the lake. “Just looking. Needed some air.”
“Really?” she teased as she walked up to stop beside him. “I thought you were very happy breathing canned air and looking at nature through the beauty of clean glass windows.”
He snorted. “Let's just say I'm feeling a little cabin fever.”
There it was again. She could see how ready he was to chuck the whole month and escape from what he no doubt considered captivity. So what she had to do was take his mind off it.
“I can cure that.”
“How?”
“Take a walk with me.” She threaded her arm through the crook of his and smiled up at him.
“It's freezing out here,” he reminded her.
“If we keep moving, we won't feel it.” She tugged at his arm. “Come on. When's the last time you took a walk along a lake as beautiful as this one?”
His gaze swept out over the wide expanse of water and the pine-tree-studded shoreline before turning back to her. “Never.”
“Way too long,” she assured him and started walking. His long legs outdistanced hers, and Keira caught herself half running to keep up before she pulled back on his arm and said, “It's not a race, you know. You don't actually get a prize for reaching the other side.”
He stopped, smirked a little, then shrugged. “Point taken. But I'm not used to just strolling.”
“It's okay,” Keira said, enjoying the flash of warmth in his too-cool blue eyes. “You can learn.”
They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes before she said, “The bears will be waking up soon.”
“Bears?”
“Oh, yeah. Black ones and brown ones. Mamas and babies. They'll be trolling through backyards and tipping over trash cans looking for food or trouble.”
“Bears.” He shook his head. “Can't imagine living somewhere I could expect to bump into a bear.”
“Funny, huh?” she asked, tipping her face up to the darkening clouds, “I can't imagine living anywhere else.”
“You were raised here?”
“Yep. Born in Lake Tahoe, raised here. We didn't have a clinic back then. Now our new moms don't have to take that trek over the mountain for medical help.” She grinned and patted his arm with her free hand. “And thanks to you, our clinic's going to be even better than it already is.”
“You've thanked me enough.”
“Not really,” she said, “but I'll let it go.”
“Thank you.”
“For now.”
He snorted.
“What about you?” she asked in the silence, “Where are you from?”
“Everywhere,” he said, turning his gaze on the wind-whipped water of the lake again.
“That's not an answer, just so you know.”
“I was born in Massachusetts. Grew up on the east coast.”
Amazing how the man could give information and still make it seem like so little. But Keira wasn't a woman to be dissuaded easily. She dug a little deeper.
“Your family still there?”
“No family,” he said shortly, and his gorgeous blue eyes squinted into the wind racing past them.
“I'm sorry.”
“No reason to be. You couldn't know.”
“Well, I am, anyway,” she said and squeezed his arm companionably. “My folks died when I was in college,” she said, thinking that maybe if she gave a little, he'd be willing to give a little, too. “They went skiing. Got caught in an avalanche.”
His gaze shifted to hers. “Now I'm sorry.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you. It was really hard. I still miss them so much.”
“I was ten,” he said. “Car accident.”
A few words, but said so tightly, Keira could feel the old pain still welling inside him. At least she'd been grown when she lost her parents. She couldn't even imagine how lonely and terrifying it would have been to be a child and lose the safety of your own little world.
“God, Nathan, that's terrible.”
“A long time ago,” he reminded her. “Had my grandmother. Dad's mom. She took me in.”
“That couldn't have been easy for her,” Keira said, then stumbled on a piece of wood jutting up into the rocky trail.
Nathan caught her by tightening his grip on her arm and keeping her steady. “It wasn't much of a hardship.
