Timberline Trail (13 page)

“Yeah, as well as his
home financial wizard program and house design kits. Anyway, there was always a conflict between the two; Dad demanding my brother follow in his footsteps and RK sort of doing what dad wanted, but never really taking over the company like he wanted.”

“So, why didn’t you take over?”

“I’d rather write; dealing with the ins and outs of big business is not my thing. Wearing a designer suit, going to board meetings, flitting here and there on company business is not my cup of tea. This is much better.” She took a deep breath of crisp air and watched the fire smoke in the damp air.

Strangely it had been a relief to tell Jon about her family and the murder and she wondered
how he’d react. Jon stared moodily into the dying embers which had nearly succumbed to the relentless assault of snow. He finally rose stiffly and taking a match, lit the storm lamp hanging from a hook off the canopy. The mantle hissed once before its soft light illuminated the clearing surrounding the fire.

“So,” asked Tia
, breaking the peaceful silence. “Are you really a photographer or just another S.O.B. looking for a juicy story?”

Jon
, though startled at her blunt statement, smiled and the action transformed his face. His powerful green eyes gleamed in the deep dusk as his lips quirked.

H
e said quietly, “Any opinion of me is for you to determine, but in many ways we are very similar. I lost a family member not long ago and just like you, this place with its blue sky, tall trees, and abundant nature offers a balm to my battered spirits.” He sank heavily into the small canvas chair and rubbing his chin tried to explain.

“When I photograph
animals, they possess no guile. They lack rank or ambition and accept their place in the greater scheme of things. Here I’m part of that, but in the city it’s a rat race with its dog eat dog mentality, and I finally came to terms long ago that city life is not for me and never was.” He chuckled wryly. “My parents however, thought I’d lost my mind. Here I was, a successful corporate lawyer defending the big guy against the little guy. The money was really good I admit, but I just couldn’t stand the sterility of my life or the unfairness of the cases any longer.

A few years ago,
while sitting on a bench in Central Park in New York City where my firm was located, an acorn or nut of some sort beamed down upon my head. Rubbing my noggin and searching the treetops I glimpsed the guilty brown squirrel and swear the little creature mocked me as he continued tossing leaves and debris at me. I ended up taking tons of photos of him while he scolded and chattered and scrambled all over that tree.”

“And it motivated
you to change your line of work?” surmised Tia.

“You might say that.
People seem to love the photos I love taking. So here I am,” he swung an arm to encompass the darkening snow-covered forest, “in God’s country working with the greatest guy in the world and photographing real creatures in real places that do
real
things.”

“D
id your parents ever get over it?” Tia remembered her own father’s disappointment in RK.

“They did after a time.
Both finally came around once I proved I could support myself. Then, they were content because I so clearly was.”

“You’
re an only child?”

“I am now,” he said bleakly.

Tia heard the intense grief in his voice. “I’m so sorry,” she said woodenly.

“Yeah, so am I.”

“Was it a brother or a sister?”

“Sister; her name was Jenny. We were only fou
rteen months apart.”

What happened?” asked Tia breathlessly, not rea
lly wanting to know the answer. For once Jon didn’t seem so distant and abrupt and somehow the change excited her.

“She was murdered coming out of her office about four months ago.
They say it was a mugger, desirous of the bank deposit bag she carried. The money disappeared after my sister was supposedly killed resisting the mugger. I always found the police’s verdict strange since Jenny and I had talked about that very scenario while I lived in New York. We’d agreed no amount of money was worth your life. The thief shot her in the face.”

Tia studied her gloved hands, a
cutely uncomfortable. “Was it a large sum of money?”

“O
ver fifty grand when all was said and done, but only about ten thousand in cash. Somehow I always thought my sister’s life was worth more than fifty thousand dollars. I guess I was wrong.”

“You were close?” asked Tia softly.

“Yeah. No matter where I
traveled Jenny would e-mail; didn’t matter if I was slogging through the Congo or climbing trees in Tasmania. She met one of my close friends and started dating him; he was another photographer based in San Diego, and they’d jet over to see each other every weekend. It only took about an hour for her to fly from the desert but I used to kid her about wasting all her money on Jim. I kinda hoped their relationship would end up in matrimony. The world her oyster as they say and then she was dead; murdered at thirty-one. She would have turned thirty-two this past July. I’d just arrived in Alaska and drank a bottle of bourbon to commemorate her big day.”

His grief left Tia speechless.
She had no words of comfort to offer; no pretentious uplifting comments on about how things usually work out for the best. None seemed remotely appropriate and because she had nothing worthwhile to say, Tia simply reached out a gloved hand and squeezed his arm underneath the dark blue parka. His ungloved hand covered hers for a second and she sensed him battling tears. Jon stood abruptly.

“The tent on the right is Ben’s and has a warm down sleeping bag and everything you need to stay comfortable.
The outhouse is over there. Use this flashlight if you need to get up in the night. I hope you don’t mind sleeping with Sugar.”

“Sugar!” cried Tia. “I completely forgot
about him.”

“He’ll be fine.
If there’s any problem at all just call and I’ll come in a flash.”

“But what about Tory and Paul?” Tia rose to her feet, suddenly feeling guilty at having sat
before a warm fire and relaxing, while their fates remained unknown.

“There’s nothing we can do until morning.
Hopefully by that time it will have stopped snowing. We can only pray the pair possess enough common sense to search out shelter. Perhaps they’ve hunkered down at your place. Get some sleep and we’ll rise at first light no matter what the weather. We’ll find ‘em tomorrow.”

He turned abruptly, stepping off the low wooden landing and headed briskly toward his own tent. Tia gazed thoughtfully after him, realizing there was a lot more
to Jon Simons than met the eye.

When Tia awoke around three in the morning she found the world encased in a soft blanket of heavy snow.
Sugar breathed deeply, curled in the thick quilt covering the canvas floor built atop the wooden planking. She studied the relaxed loafer while thoughts of Jon filled her mind, and she remembered how the soft glow of the mantle had illuminated his face, twisted in hopeless grief. She had not been the only one to suffer in recent months. Tia couldn’t help but admire his decision to change careers and seek a path that didn’t compromise his essential integrity. Hadn’t she done exactly the same?

As
intense attraction for the dark-haired man built, Tia felt ashamed that the flamboyant manners and jovial nature of Steve Newcastle had caused her to overlook Jon’s quiet dignity. It was strange how often quiet reserved men were mistaken as arrogant and haughty and she silently mouthed an apology to him. Tia suddenly felt certain she had nothing whatever to fear from Jon Simons. He might appear rough on the edges, but exhibited a love for his dead sister that was enviable.

S
uddenly unable to remain stationary, Tia grabbed the torch after pulling on Ben’s heavy parka and snow boots. She trudged through the waist-high snow to the outhouse, the snow finally having ceased its assault on their camp. Only a few clouds broke the lovely star-filled darkness, and bitterly cold, Tia didn’t tarry long before heading back to the twin tents. She hesitated in front of Ben’s tent, indecision overwhelming her before she turned, her heavy boots crunching the snow outside Jon’s tent. His quiet dignified voice and suffering face drew her to him and once Tia’s mind was made up she didn’t hesitate.

Tia unzipped the heavy canvas as quietly as
possible, tilting her torch until it touched the narrow cot where Jon rested. He lay upon one side, his left arm outstretched over the edge of the bed as he breathed softly and rhythmically. His lean face totally relaxed, Tia suddenly realized how handsome he really was. He was not the perfectly dressed LA man with a standing subscription to GQ who always made sure he received his once-a-week manicure and headed for the gym every other day. This man was akin with nature and vitally alive. Tia drew in a deep steadying breath, trying to resist the urge to touch his outstretched fingers and involuntarily leaned forward.

Jon’s hands suddenly shot out and she was pulled toward him, her face not six inches from his own.

“What are you doing?” he hissed under his breath.

“I... I heard a noise,” she stammered, acutely e
mbarrassed.

“Oh really?” said Jon.
“Just what kind of noise?”

“A strange noise,” she lied.
“One I couldn’t identify.”

He remained completely still for a moment.
“Maybe I was having a sweet dream and talking in my sleep. Maybe the noise was me... calling your name.”

Only
an infinitesimal pause ensued before he pulled her close and kissed her passionately.

Jon’s lips were warm and eager and her mouth opened eagerly over his. Instantly his arms mane
uvered her so she lay atop his sleeping bag. This was no Paul Dale or smooth-talking Steve Newcastle, only a raw, love-hungry man who Tia suspected had withdrawn totally from the world after his sister’s death, and whose passionate lips now sought hers for comfort.

The world dissolved away and she completely forgot about her missing friends or the injured wolf lying in her tent. Jon rapidly unzipped his sleeping bag and Tia shrugged out of the oversized parka, dropping Ben’s boots onto the floor.
She needed a warm loving touch as much as he did and tonight there was no hesitation as she sought his lips and warmth.

He was amazingly gentle, nuzzling her neck and sucking at her lower lip and she in turn trailed her own mouth over his square chin and warm Adam’s apple.
He smelled fragrant and clean; a heady mixture of wood smoke and pine-scented soap and Tia loved the feel of his warm neck against her cheek. Her hands sought the spread of his chest and slipped under his sweatshirt as he sucked in a breath.

“Tia,” he whispered
, caressing the small of her back, his fingers languidly trailing upward to cup her firm breast under his roving hand. “I want you so,” he moaned, and in one deft move skimmed the flannel shirt over her head and dropped it onto the dark canvas floor.

His sweatshirt followed and her fingers played restlessly with the small patch of hair over his sternum, enjoying the solid warmth of him.
For all his desire, he refused to rush, instead kissing her deeply and efficiently, running his fingers lightly over her back. Jon’s hand trailed between her legs and she gasped at the intimate contact as he impatiently pulled down her blue jeans and plain cotton underwear, flinging them lightly upon the growing pile beside the bed. She bent forward and pulled his own sweats downward; enjoying his complete cessation of movement as she boldly removed his garments. Tia straddled him hotly, willing herself to be patient as his hands grasped the warm flesh of her bottom and moved her upon him, causing her to gasp in delight. Jon closed his eyes in pleasure before urging her onward, helping her to love him completely.

It seemed to go on forever, each second
more pleasurable than the last as she leaned down and kissed him repeatedly upon the mouth, his lips parted as her tongue searched the recesses of his mouth.

“So sweet,” she moaned
, and increased the tempo until he was writhing beneath her, his hands tight and demanding upon her bottom.

“Can’t stop,” he whispered and suddenly the night swirled, the pleasure too intense to control as his cry joined hers.

Tia noticed her
own arms trembled and he reached a gentle hand upward to cup her cheek. She thought he would speak, but instead Jon pulled her down, cradling her against his spent body as his fingers searched for the down bag’s zipper as Tia suddenly became aware of the biting cold on her bare skin. She settled against him and he cocooned her in warmth and love.

“Sleep Tia.
I’ll keep you safe and warm,” his breath promised and she sagged against him, suddenly and completely exhausted.

The sun had risen
high in the sky by the time she awoke and Jon had already vacated the sleeping bag’s enveloping warmth. Tia shook herself from the clinging sack and shivered, the air snapping cold at only 20 degrees Fahrenheit, if that. She quickly donned her oversized clothes from the previous night, having no compunction whatever about wearing the absent Ben’s things. She unzipped the heavy canvas door and poked her head out to observe Jon shoveling snow away from the fire pit, his shovel clanging against the rocks circling the burned out pyre.