White Mountain (21 page)

But not quite.

Jack stood on the rim of a canyon, looking down into the narrow valley below.
 
What had once been lush, high country grass was already turning brown, evidence of early killing frosts.
 
The ponderosa pines under which they had parked were straight and tall, pointing persistently heavenward against the constantly prevailing winds.
 
The mountain peaks across the valley were already white-capped, with some of the higher crevasses filled with drifted snow.
 
Areas of spruce, fir and pine grew as far as halfway up the mountains, but after that there was nothing but intermittent outcroppings of unyielding rock, fit for nothing but an eagle’s eyrie.

The grandeur of the place was overwhelming to a man like Jack, who’d grown up in the thick humidity of the Louisiana bottoms.
 
Here, it was like standing at the top of the world.
 
He took a deep breath and turned to the wind, relishing the sharp, cleansing feeling.

Beside him, Isabella stood silently, grappling with her own emotions.
 
Initially, their trip had started out strained, but the farther they’d driven, the more relaxed she’d become.
 
Now Jack sensed the scenery was settling to her, as well.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Glad you came?”

She looked at him then, but he couldn’t read her expression.

“Yes, I’m Glad.”

“How high do you suppose we are?” Jack asked.

Isabella turned to look out across the valley to the peaks beyond.

“I don’t know, probably between eight and nine thousand feet above sea leverl.
 
Why?”

“Because my ears are ringing.”

She grinned.
 
“I don’t hear anything.”

Surprised by her teasing, he pulled her hair and grinned.

“Oh.
 
That’s very funny, Tinkerbell.”

The look on Isabella’s face was priceless.
 
It was somewhere between shock and indignation.

“What did you call me?”

Now he was the one who was grinning.
 
“What?
 
You never had a nickname?”

“Never.”

He shook his head.
 
“I’m thinking you’ve led a very sheltered life.”

Isabella turned abruptly and strode to the car, then began digging through the trunk for the food that they’d brought.
 
Jack knew almost instantly that he’d said the wrong thing.
 
He followed her, gently sliding his hand across her back.

“Isabella…I’m sorry.
 
I wasn’t thinking about…I shouldn’t have said…”

She straightened, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Don’t apologize,” she said.
 
“It’s just something I’m going too have to get used to.
 
My life
was
sheltered.
 
Until a few weeks ago, I never realized how much.”
 
She tried to smile through the tears.
 
“Besides, I always like Tinkerbell.
 
She was
 
a woman…er, fairy…who knew her own mind.
 
Not a bad role model after all.”

“Isabella…”

“Yes?”

“I very much need to kiss you.”

Oh God.
 
This soon?

She looked at his mouth, wondering how it would feel against her own.
 
When he came closer, she tensed, thinking there was something she should say, like no, or please do.
 
But then his hands cupped her face.
 
When he traced the edges of her lower lip with his thumbs, her eyelids fluttered shut.
 
She felt his breath on her face, and then he was there, his mouth against hers, searching gently at first, then harder.

Shock ricocheted through her defenses, making her weak with a longing she’d never known.
 
Before she was forced to make another decision, he let her go, then enfolded her within his embrace.

“Easy,” he said softly.
 
“This is what we call a hug.”

Isabella hid a smile against the front of his jacket.

“Really?
 
It’s what I would call making a move.”

He ruffled her hair and then kissed the top of her head before making himself let her go.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s another way to look at it.
 
Now, what do we have to ear?”

She arched an eyebrow and smile.
 
“Just like a man.”

And that quickly, the tension between them disappeared.
 
Isabella was still smiling as she took an old blanket from the trunk and spread it beneath a sheltered stand of pines.
 
Jack followed with the picnic basket, and soon they were sitting cross-legged on the blanket, talking amiably as they dug through the food the cook had prepared.

“Looks like we have bacon and tomato sandwiches, or ham and cheese.”

“How many do we have?” Jack asked.

Isabella looked up to see if he was serious.
 
He was.
 
She smiled.

“Plenty.”

“Then I’ll have one of each,” Jack said, and held out a paper plate.

She loaded it up, adding pickles and a big spoonful of potato salad.

“How does that look?” she asked.

“Like it might hold me for a couple of hours.”

Her eyes widened.
 
“Are you serious?”

“No.”

Her laughter pierced him as he took the first bite of potato salad, and he knew that for the rest of his life he would remember this moment and the sound of her joy echoing across the canyon.

As they ate, they talked about everything from favorite Christmases to school bullies, and somewhere between the last bite of sandwich and her first bite of cookie, Isabella knew something was happening between them.
 
After that kiss, he hadn’t touched her again, but she saw the wanting in his eyes and felt his gaze on her face when thought she wasn’t looking.
 
She felt guilty for being happy when her father and Uncle Frank were dead, but she had not been brought up toe play the martyr.
 
Being raised by seven very pedantic and logical men had ironed out any feminine wrinkles she might have developed in that respect.
 
She didn’t have it in her to play games with emotions, especially her own.
 
She was falling for Jack Dolan.
 
Plain and simple.

“Want another cookie?” she asked, as she began to pack up their leftover food.

“No room,” Jack said, and rubbed his stomach.

“That’s something I didn’t expect to hear you say.”

Jack grinned and tossed a wadded up napkin at her before stretching out on the blanket.

“If you need any help with the dishes, just let me know,” he mumbled, as he folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

Isabella snorted lightly.
 
“That would mean you’d have to be upright and awake.”

He crossed his legs at the ankles and shifted to one side without opening his eyes.

“You’re a good cook, Tinkerbell, but don’t ruin it by trying to make me feel guilty.
 
Better people than you have tried—with no success.”

She was smiling to herself as she tossed the last of the picnic stuff into the basket and put it in the trunk; then she glanced at her watch, taking note of the time.
 
It was a little after 2:00 p.m.
 
Plenty of time to get down from the mountains before dark.
 
She glanced behind her.
 
Jack looked awfully still.

“Jack?”

He didn’t answer.

She shut the trunk lid and then walked to the blanket.
 
He was already asleep.
 
She stood for a moment, staring down into his face, studying the strength in his jawline and the length of his body.
 
He was a very big man whom she had known for less than a week.
 
The only things she knew were what he’d told her, and every bit of it could have been a lie.
 
Good sense told her to go slow where this man was concerned, but her heart was telling her differently.
 
The past few weeks had brought home to her how brief life could be and how swiftly it could end.
 
She was twenty-eight years old and had never been truly in love.
 
If this man stuck around long enough, she might find that was no longer the case.

Hesitating only briefly, she knelt down on the blanket.
 
No big deal.
 
They’d been sitting on it together during their meal.
 
Jest because the food and plates were gone, it didn’t change all that much.
 
And all that food and mountain air were making her sleepy, as well.
 
She would lie back for just a few minutes to rest her eyes.
 
Then she would wake Jack and start for home.

She stretched out on the blanket, then rolled to her side with her back to where Jack was lying.
 
Overhead, she could hear the high-pitched screech of a foraging eagle, as well as the wind whistling through the pines above.
 
She took a deep breath and then closed her eyes.

Jack woke abruptly, his mind searching for answers to a series of confusing question, including where in hell was he?
 
How had he gotten here?
 
And why was his left leg almost numb?
 
Then the wind blew a strand of Isabella’s hair across his lips and he remembered it all—standing on the rim of the canyon with her breath on his face and then holding her close in his arms, sharing food and laughter and the promise of so much more.
 
He shifted slightly and looked down.
 
She was fast asleep in his arms, with her leg across the lower half of his body and her cheek pillowed against his chest.

He looked at his watch.
 
It was almost four.
 
They’d been asleep for the better part of two hours.
 
The sky was no longer clear and sunny; it looked to be threatening rain.
 
Rising on one elbow, he scooted Isabella off his chest and then watched her wake up.
 
The shock he saw on her face was as inevitable as the kiss she was about to receive.

“You are so beautiful,” he said softly.

Isabella’s thoughts were still slightly unfocused, but there wasn’t any doubt in her mind about what was going to happen.
 
What startled her most was how much she wanted to lie in his arms with nothing between them but passion.
 
She lifter her hand to his face, feeling the faint prickle of whiskers as well as a muscle jumping near his jaw.

“I’m not very experienced at this,” she said softly.

Jack brushed a kiss across her chin, then traced the curve with the tip of his tongue.

“I am,” he answered.

“I’m not protected.”

Jack shook his head as he kissed one of her eyelids, then the other.

“Yes, you are.
 
You have me.”

“I meant—“

Jack put a finger across the middle of her lips, shushing her explanation before it went any further.

“I know what you meant.”
 
He kissed the bridge of her nose, then cupped her face.
 
“This isn’t going to go that far.”

Isabella sighed.
 
“Just take me somewhere I haven’t been.”

Jack slid his arms around her and rolled, pulling her on top of him and then burying his face against the curve beneath her chin as her hair curtained around them.
 
When she raised herself above him, his heart swelled with tenderness.
 
He wanted to hold her and cherish her and never let her go.

“God, you feel like heaven in my arms.”

“Can I trust you” she asked.

Guilt struck.
 
He wanted to look away from that wide, naïve stare and instead found himself backed into a mental corner.

His hesitation was unexpected, and suddenly Isabella was nervous.

“Jack?”

“I can’t do this,” he muttered.
 
“Not like this.
 
Not without the truth.”

If he’d slapped her, she couldn’t have been more shocked.
 
Embarrassed and hurting, she bolted to her feet and then turned her face to the wind.

“We need to go,” she said briefly.
 
“It’s late.”

Jack was up within seconds and standing behind her.
 
The pain in her voice was unmistakable.
 
He hated himself for letting this go too far, but when he reached for her, she shrugged off his grasp, yanked the blanket from the ground, then stode toward the car.