In the Firelight (3 page)

A hot glow of coals peeked through the rather ornate fireplace screen, hinting as to their warmth, calling Rhys to come closer. He heeded their pull, removing his frozen gloves to spread his aching fingers over the radiant heat.

Back by the door, the short woman reached into her pocket for her pickup keys and dropped them into a stoneware dish that rested beside the lamp on the old radio. She pulled her shoulder bag off and tossed it onto a chair tucked in a small alcove beside some large, split-log stairs that rose to a loft. Then she rounded the stairs to head back into the kitchen area, flicking on a light and filling a kettle that she set on the stove.

The soft light glowed from the hood above the stove, making her more of a shadow than allowing him to see her clearly. It did make visible the small kitchen, however, with its warm wood cabinets and dark slate countertops.

After firing up the burner, the girl moved back by the door and started to remove the layers that hid her appearance. Rhys tried not to watch, but was inexplicably fascinated, wondering what this short, stocky, hazel-eyed, feisty angel looked like underneath all her heavy winter garb.

With her back to him, she first removed her heavy wool hat to reveal a tangled mess of coppery-brown locks falling halfway down her back in thick waves. Next, she began to unbutton the heavy coat while she used the toe of one boot to kick off the other. After both boots had been removed and tucked onto the boot dryer, she slid the coat down her shoulders, revealing surprisingly slender arms encased in a soft-looking ivory thermal. She hung the coat on a hook, then unzipped the bib front of her Carhartt snow pants, sliding the shoulder straps down her arms and pushing the heavy garment down her hips to her ankles. She stepped out of the thickly padded garment and reached down to pick it up.

Rhys’ mouth instantly went dry.

He was astounded.

This girl was
not
stocky and heavyset by any means. That coat and snowpants must have been about three sizes too big and very thickly padded. But now, in the dim light, he could see the lightweight fabric of her shirt curving softly along her slender waist, stretching slightly across what appeared to be rather firm breasts. Her jeans, faded and worn in all the right places, curved over a lusciously round ass, making him almost groan aloud.

She finally turned back to him and walked out of the shadowy entryway into the dim light of the room, towards him.

Think, Rhys… speak… say something.

But his voice was caught in his throat. With a quick, guarded glance up at him, she pulled the screen away from the fireplace and grabbed a few pieces of cut firewood from the bin. Kneeling before the fire, she carefully placed them on the glowing embers. She stoked the fire a bit with an iron poker, leaning forward to blow softly on the coals. The way she was positioned, bent over with her lovely ass in the air, had Rhys painfully erect in nothing flat.

And with each breath, her cheeks filled and her lips created the most perfect little ‘o’ lit by the warm gleam emanating from the coals. The red heat of embers became almost white as she exhaled into the hearth—once, twice, and a third heavy breath of air. A small flame began to lick along the slim pine logs. Waiting a moment to ensure the flame continued, she then looked up at Rhys.

“That should help to warm you up a little,” she said softly, her slightly husky voice shooting straight to his already raging-hard cock. She gave him a shy half smile as she stood and brushed off her hands. “Why don’t you take off your coat and boots. They’re probably doing more harm than good at this point.”

Rhys couldn’t speak.

She was so close to him.

She was so lovely.

He could only nod and stare at the delicate curve of her cheek, the waves of auburn curls glowing in the firelight, the thick lashes surrounding her beautiful eyes, the raised arch of her eyebrow.
Wait… why was she arching her brow?
And then she cocked her head to the side.

Oh fuck… he was staring.

This was so not what she had planned for tonight. Long hours in Polson all afternoon meeting with her lawyer, Dennis, had left Shea absolutely exhausted. It was quite possible that there was a legitimate claim on her land. Dennis had stated that, if Buddy pursued it and won, not only could he start charging rent, but he could sell it right out from under her. She could lose her home, her haven in the woods.

Dennis had an appointment to meet with Buddy the next day, and this had Shea on pins and needles. Adding fuel to the fire, trying to resolve this issue had taken a lot of time from work, and she was quickly falling behind on her medical transcription quota for the month. With a possible upcoming legal battle, she would need every penny. All the horrid scenarios of what could happen rushed through her head all the way home on the slippery roads. The drive seemed eternal and the weather had steadily grown worse the closer she got to her cabin. Shea felt like she was about to crack.

And now, this fucking jackass who got lost in the woods. She wanted nothing more than to just crawl into a soft, fuzzy blanket on the couch in front of the fire. But that was obviously not on the cards now with this stranger around. Especially with the way he was looking at her.

Granted, he was freakin’ gorgeous. His hair was thick and dark with a little bit of curl. The angle of his cheek down to his jaw was shaded with a slight growth of beard, maybe a day or two. He was broadly built and rather tall. But he was obviously not terribly with it.
Maybe a little nuts? Great!
  She had brought a loon home with her, way out in the woods, and it was snowing buckets outside. She should call for a tow before things got too weird.

At least she had Wolfie for a little protection. The German Shepard in him was bred for it. The behemoth was lazily sprawled out on his belly near the quickly increasing warmth of the fire, but a quick holler would have him up and alert.

If she could talk, that was. Right now, she felt incapable of speech. A rare flutter of divine tension coursed through her as the man continued to stare at her, and, for a moment, she could only stare back.

Wow… his eyes…

A whistle from the teapot on the stove jolted them both from their stupors, and the man quickly turned towards the door, unbuttoning his thick coat. Shea blew out a deep exhalation and wandered back into the kitchen, grabbing a few teabags and the honey from the counter and reaching into the cupboard to pull out two heavy mugs. The steam rose as she poured the boiling water, watching as it took on the warm amber hue.

As the tea began to steep, she reached for her cordless phone and pressed the button. The lights on the phone flickered on, but no dial-tone emerged. Another click and the same result.

Wonderful!

The heavy snow must have knocked out the line. Too bad Frankie’s Towing Service didn’t email. At least that was something she generally had, so long as the snow didn’t bury her internet satellite dish, and even then she could just sweep it off. But like so many in her small community, Frankie viewed technological advances with a mixture of fear and distain. So, the chances of reaching him in any way at this hour were slim to none. And there was
no way
she was driving all the way back down that road again tonight, not at the rate the heavy, wet snow was coming down.

So, it looked as though she was going to have company.

Setting the phone back down, she reached for the honey.

“How sweet do you like your tea?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Not really much into tea,” he responded with a gruff, apologetic smile as he pulled off his large, clunky boots.

“Well, you need to get something hot in you, and the honey will help get you comfortable. At least, that’s what my grampa always said.” She waited for a moment before asking again. “So, how sweet?”

“Whatever you think, I guess,” he sighed, padding back over in front of the fire. The slightly defeated tone to his voice made Shea feel a tad bit guilty for being so adamant.

Shea measured out a spoonful of honey into each cup, stirring with little clinks before pulling the teabags out. Walking back over to the fireplace with the mugs, she handed one to him where he sat on the oversized L-shaped couch that faced the hearth.

Her voice softened as she held it out, giving him a small smile. “Even if you just sit here and hold the cup, breathe in the steam, it will help warm you up.”

The man took the mug without really looking at her face, and she covertly assessed him as she backed up to the other section of the couch. The removal of his coat revealed that he had thick musculature across his shoulders and arms. He wore a dark blue plaid flannel shirt and had rolled up the sleeves a bit on his forearms. Dark lashes shielded his eyes from her as he looked down into the cup, blowing onto the hot liquid before taking a sip. “Hmm… this does feel good.”

“So, what’s your name?” she softly queried.

“Rhys,” he spoke with a silky rasp. “Rhys Weland.” He looked up at her, and, even in the dim light of the flickering fire, she could see the deep blue of his eyes. She was a little aghast by the sensual quiver that coursed through her. The directness of his gaze caused her to lower her eyes to her tea.

“Nice to meet you, Rhys Weland,” she murmured. “My name’s Shea… Shea Madison. May as well make yourself comfortable, because the phone is out. So, we’re shit outa luck on a tow truck tonight.”

Chapter 2 ~ The Target

Holy fuck! This was Shea Madison!?

It was all Rhys could do not to spew the hot tea across the room as her words registered.
This… this curvy little, hazel-eyed, foul-mouthed angel was Shea Madison?
This was his target? His job?

Rhys schooled his features into a contemplative expression, attempting to hide his shock at her revelation and appear only perturbed at the inconvenience of no tow truck.

“I could try on my cell phone,” he said.

Shea smiled over at him and softly chuckled, a sweet, gentle sound that did some funny shit to his insides. “You won’t get a signal almost until you hit town. We’re too far up the gulch for any cell towers to reach. Coverage maps don’t mean shit out here.”

Rhys watched her sit across from him, on the other side of the large L-shaped sofa, quietly sipping her tea. The glow from the firelight danced off her face and sent a gleam of light through her hair. Rhys silently sent a thank you to the heavens for the lovely image before him, so different from the rugged and burly woman he was expecting. Romancing her would be a piece of cake.
A young woman, alone.

Hmm… alone? Was she alone?

She had no wedding ring that he could see, but it would probably be a good thing to check.

“So, this is a nice little cabin,” Rhys began. “Have you lived out here long?”

“A few years,” Shea said softly. “Since my grampa died. It was his place.”

“It’s pretty small. I’m guessing you don’t have a very big family. No kids?”

Shea trained her gaze on him, looking at him with a slightly suspicious cast to her eyes and an amused lift to her full lips. “No,” she smiled with a sarcastic tilt. “No kids.” She tipped her head, raising an eyebrow.

Fuck. She knew exactly what he was getting at.
He was so off his game, and she wasn’t going to make it easy on him. So he may as well get it over with.

“Anyone else live out here with you? Sibling? Cousin?” Rhys took a quick sip of his tea, quietly murmuring to downplay the next possibility. “Husband?”

Oh yeah, she totally knew.
An almost silent chuckle ran through Shea, drawing his eyes to the slight movement of her ample chest outlined so deliciously by the form-fitting thermal shirt.

Who knew a fucking plain old thermal shirt could be so damn sexy?

For a second, he was enthralled with the motion, and damn near groaned aloud. Finally tearing his gaze back up to her face, he instantly felt rather uncomfortable as her eyebrow rose even higher.
Great… now she caught him staring at her tits like a lecher.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
He was usually so much smoother than this.