Shaking off thoughts she didn’t want to deal with, she stripped off her coat and tossed it on the sofa. BJ brushed against her leg and mewed. She scooped the cat into her arms and hugged him tightly, wondering why she suddenly needed the comfort of his warmth, why she suddenly felt so alone.
“How about that fire?” she said aloud.
The woodpile was in the backyard. Not bothering with her coat, Landis crossed through the kitchen. The deputy had taped a piece of cardboard over the broken pane to keep out the cold. She’d have to go to the hardware store tomorrow and pick up a new pane. Unlocking the French door, she opened it and started for the cord of wood stacked against the fence a few yards away.
The snow was still coming down, but not as hard. Such a serene picture, she thought as she pulled two logs and some kindling from the stack. If only she felt as serene. Seeing Jack had been a tremendous shock. It galled her that she still felt something for him. Not love or anything so profound. But a connection that ran a lot deeper than she wanted to admit.
Movement off to her right sent her heart hard against her ribs. Gasping, she dropped the wood and spun. Before she’d taken two steps toward the cabin, strong arms closed around her from behind, trapping her against a solid wall of muscle. A hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her scream.
“Easy, Landis, it’s me.” Jack’s voice sliced through the fog of fear. “Don’t scream. You know I won’t hurt you.”
She berated herself for being foolish enough to believe he’d gone. Cursing him, she tried to break his grip on her and wriggle free, but he held her tightly against him. Angry and afraid, she did the only thing she could think of and bit his palm.
He jerked his hand away. “Ouch! Damn it!”
“Let go of me!”
“Hold still!”
Furious, Landis spun to face him. “How dare you come at me like that!” Bending, she scooped up a piece of kindling and swung it as hard as she could. Air whooshed.
Jack lunged sideways, stumbled and went down on his knees. The kindling missed him by an inch. Scrambling to his feet, he moved toward her. “You could have taken my head off with that!”
“You don’t use it anyway.” She swung again.
He ducked, then lunged for her. His arms went around her waist. The momentum knocked her off balance, but she didn’t fall. She raised the stick, prepared to defend herself. But his hand snaked out and braceleted her wrist. “Don’t even think about hitting me with that,” he growled.
Jack had forgotten how small she was. How delicately she was built. How good she smelled when he got this close—a subtle mix of coconut and musk and woman flesh. He’d forgotten how soft her body was when she was pressed up against him. How her eyes flashed like cut emeralds when he ticked her off. He’d forgotten a lot of things about her in the past year. Or tried to, anyway. Holding her against him, they all came rushing back….
“Damn you, Jack!” She struggled to free herself from his grasp. “Let go of me!”
She was surprisingly strong for her size. “Let go of the stick,” he said between clenched teeth.
She lashed out with her right foot. The heel of her boot connected solidly with his shin. He felt pain on top of pain, but he didn’t let go. “Stop fighting me.”
“You’re hurting me!”
“Yeah, well your heel grinding into my shin didn’t exactly feel good.”
He squeezed her wrist. Her hand opened; the kindling fell to the snow. Growling in annoyance, he shoved her away. For several long seconds, they faced each other, breathing hard, their breaths mingling between them in a white cloud of vapor.
Despite the fatigue and pain fogging his brain, Jack couldn’t help but notice the rise and fall of her breasts. That her cheeks were blushed with cold. Or that she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He steeled himself against those observations, knowing it was crazy to think of her in those terms now.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said.
“In the scope of things, I’m sure a bruised wrist is the least of my worries,” she said dryly. “Why sweat the little things when you’re determined to ruin my life?”
“I’m not going to ruin your life. Nobody has to know I was here.”
“I hate to remind you of something so obvious, but that deputy sheriff was just here looking for you.”
“Yeah? So then why the hell did you send him away?”
She blinked. “I…didn’t. I mean, he went back to the sheriff’s office to put together a search party.”
The realization that she hadn’t identified him staggered him. Something that felt vaguely like hope fluttered in his chest. “You know, Red, for a lawyer you’re not a very good liar.”
“He’s coming back. I swear he’s coming right back.”
He contemplated her, feeling more for her than was prudent. But then, he’d never been a prudent man when it came to Landis. “If I understood your motives a little better, I might thank you.”
“Don’t bother.” She met his gaze levelly. “I’m not going to let you drag me down with you. I’m not going to let you ruin my life.”
A sudden shiver wracked his body. Another wave of dizziness followed with such force that for an instant he thought he was going down again. Fighting nausea, he leaned against the trunk of a pine tree for support. “Damn it…”
“Jack—”
“I need to call Aaron Chandler,” he ground out.
“You’re turning yourself in?”
“Don’t count on it.” He’d hoped she would be able to put her hatred for him aside in the name of justice, but it didn’t look like she wasn’t going to help him. Chandler probably wouldn’t, either. But calling his lawyer might buy him some time. Under the circumstances, Jack figured it was the best he could hope for.
“I’ll have to drive down to Mrs. Worthington’s to use the phone,” she said.
“Like I’m going to let you drive away,” he snapped. “Get me a knife. I’ll splice the line together.”
Landis glowered at him a moment before picking up the fallen firewood. Following her cue, Jack gathered the remaining kindling and trailed her to the cabin.
The heat inside made him feel feverish, but it wasn’t enough to warm him. He felt cold all the way to his bones. He prayed he could function long enough to repair the phone line and make the call to his attorney.
Setting the kindling on the hearth, he watched Landis approach him with a small utility knife. Her cheeks were flushed with cold. Her hair was damp and clung to her face in wisps. That she appealed to him even now annoyed the hell out of him. He couldn’t count the times he’d thought of her when he’d been locked away, lying on his cot, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out his surroundings. She would never know how many endless nights he’d dreamed of her, of touching her. She would never know that those dreams had sustained him, given him a reason to live.
He’d known she wouldn’t welcome him back. In the months he’d spent in prison, he’d tried desperately to convince himself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care. But the truth had eaten at him, like an acid gnawing at his heart until there was nothing left but an empty shell.
Shaking off the memories, Jack took the knife and walked back outside to splice the telephone line. A few minutes later, he returned to find Landis at the hearth, building a fire. Without