“I noticed a tree holder in the corner,” he said, hitching a thumb toward the flagstone living room. “For your Christmas tree?”
“Trevor had just put it down before the accident. He and I were planning to go up to Christmas Tree Hill the day after we got back from Great Falls, and cut two trees down. One for here and one for the wranglers’ bunkhouse.”
Kyle nodded, holding her gaze. “Would you like to do it with me? Remember every year as kids we’d go up there with our parents? They’d let us find just the right trees for our homes.” His heart squeezed with all those fond memories, the laughter and fun they’d had choosing the Christmas trees. He saw Anna considering his idea and wasn’t sure if she was well enough to drive up there and tromp around in the snow, looking for a tree.
“Yes, I’d love to do that, Kyle.”
Hope and emotion were combined in her suddenly husky tone. For a split second, Kyle swore he saw moisture in Anna’s green eyes, but just as suddenly, it was gone. Had he imagined it? The look of longing in her expression was there to read. The joy in her eyes was there, too. Kyle felt his heart expand. God, he wanted nothing more than to lift her depressed spirits. He’d give his right arm to see her smile instead of that sad curve to her lips that always haunted her mouth instead.
She had a lot to be grieving about. The loss of Trevor was a huge blow to a ranch of this size. Anna had the innate ability to make everyone feel nurtured by her maternal warmth, to be inclusive of everyone, as if those who worked at the ranch were like family to her, too. And that was just the way Anna was built.
Right now, Kyle was feeling that warmth exuding from her toward him. That invisible sensation of being special, of being loved and cosseted by her.
“This blizzard isn’t a good time to do much of anything,” he said, eating the hearty soup with enthusiasm. Kyle saw she’d finished just about everything in her bowl, a good sign. He was grateful Anna had an appetite. Kyle knew from too many experiences that on patrol, if a team member got wounded or killed, no one had an appetite. They forced themselves to eat because there was no choice. The only way to get back to the FOB was to continually eat food and keep hydrated.
“Maybe in three or four days?” Anna asked.
“Yeah,” he murmured, cleaning up the last of the food in his bowl.
“Let’s see what Jepson says about the road up to the hill,” she counseled, pushing the emptied bowl away.
“Sounds like a plan.” Giving her a fond look, he said, “You ate everything.”
Touching her stomach, Anna made a slight shrug. “It must be you, Kyle. I haven’t eaten this much since returning home from the hospital.”
Preening inwardly, Kyle wanted to believe her. He knew he had influence over Anna. Despite her hesitancy, her reluctance to share any feelings with him, he sensed it. If the SEALs didn’t give him anything else, they had given him a powerful, unquestioned intuition. And if Kyle was accurately reading Anna, she was more than glad to see him.
It almost felt like old times when they were young, naive and innocent to the ways of the world. And Kyle was aware that his decisions had made Anna sadder than anyone else’s actions had in her life.
“Where would you like me to bunk?” he asked her, holding her gaze. Once again, her cheeks flamed pink. Why? Kyle knew there was a bunkhouse for wranglers near the main ranch house. He found himself resisting going there because he wanted to remain close to Anna in case she needed help. If nothing else, he could at least support and assist her if necessary. It ate at his sensitized conscience that he would be here for only a month.
“You can have the guest bedroom down the hall.” She gestured gracefully toward that direction. “If that’s okay with you?”
Okay? Hell, it was perfect. And already, Kyle was plotting and planning when he could kiss Anna, feel her lush lips blossom beneath his onslaught, feel her heat combine with his. Because when they kissed, the real world went away and only the two of them existed in that exquisite, heated moment. And damn, he wanted to take her to bed, love her gently, love her until he would hear those beautiful sounds caught in her throat, feel her convulse around him.
Was it all a dream? Kyle was a realist. He knew from past experience Anna would refuse to go to bed with him ever again. Because if she did, Kyle knew she would agree to whatever he wanted from her. And the Montana woman, the pragmatist, knew better. She would not sell her heart for one night in his arms. Or even thirty nights. It had to be forever or not at all.
FOUR DAYS... ANNA closed her eyes, standing near her bedroom door, hand upon the brass knob. She had changed into an old pair of jeans that had seen better days, two layers of sweaters beneath her dark blue nylon parka and good boots to traverse the knee-deep snow. As she opened her eyes, the slats of sun filtered through the burgundy drapes in her bedroom. Kyle waited for her out in the living room. They were going to go find the perfect Christmas tree for the ranch house and the wranglers’ bunkhouse. Her house was now painfully empty, no longer filled with the booming laughter of her father or the teasing from her mother. It seemed longer than a year that they’d been gone. And on days like this, particularly around the holidays, it felt as if someone was carving up her heart with a dull knife.
She felt weak and needy. Four days with Kyle under her roof triggered the powerful emotions of loving him once more. He was charismatic. His eyes were a deep gray with a black ring around the iris, making him look like the focused hunter he really was. He hunted men, just as raptors hunted their kind of food.
And his smile was devastating to her, dismantling all logic as to why she shouldn’t get involved with him. Did he know how his smile undid her? Did Kyle read the desire in her expression?
At twenty-two, seven long years ago, he had come home and they’d made love, giving their hearts to one another. Even after their breakup, she wore her heart on her sleeve. She couldn’t hide how she felt about Kyle. She never could. And right now, her heart pined so powerfully for any little touch, any smile or gaze from Kyle.
There was no mistaking what lay in his gray gaze, that intense craving for her alone. Kyle seemed cautious about touching her during the past four days. He’d been circumspect, as if respecting her space, her needs. But at night in bed? She hurt so much, the ache in her body for this man with the careless smile and dancing gray eyes haunted her. Kyle exuded life times ten. To Anna, he was like the force of sunlight come to earth in the shape of a human. Just being around him had increased her appetite, chased away so much of her dizziness and infused her with his energy, his love. Within days she felt ten times stronger than before.
Kyle cajoled her into eating a little more each day. He made them breakfast, and his buttermilk pancakes were mouth-waveringly good. She was surprised he knew how to cook, but in the end, she left no crumbs on her plate, either. Anna would swear she’d gained five pounds. It was Kyle’s love for her, she realized, that was feeding her soul, infusing her heart and body. He had always had that kind of magical effect upon her in every way.
Her fingers tightened around the doorknob. What was she going to do? She felt the intense longing to be in his arms, resting against his stalwart body, knowing he would hold her safe. Kyle would love her if she allowed him. Every cell in her body trembled with need. The last time he had loved her, kissed her, was seven years ago. And she could still remember the strength of his mouth upon hers.
What did that make her? A fool forever? Hadn’t she tried to erase Kyle from her heart? They were children who grew up together. Running through fields of purple clover, rolling in lush, green grass and lying together, hands behind their heads, watching the white clouds change shape above them.
A small sound, part desperation, part desire, slipped from between her lips. Anna wanted to blame her neediness for Kyle on her concussion, but she knew that wasn’t true. Her heart wanted this man who was so tall,