Part 1 (2/2)
”Sam Reese,” he replied, pulling one sodden sleeve, then the other, off her arms. ”h.e.l.l, you're soaked to the skin. Look, Katie, I know this is kind of short acquaintance, but . . .”
Above all else, Kate was practical; she knew this was no time for modesty. Besides, it was nearly pitch dark in the cabin- dubious rea.s.surance, at best, but it quelled any protest her inhibitions may have offered as Sam Reese's long fingers skimmed down the b.u.t.tons of her cotton blouse, leaving gaping fabric in their wake. He yanked the hem out of her jeans, then lifted each hand in turn to loosen the cuffs. The darkness didn't hinder him, she noticed, and she appreciated his tactful comment when his hands slid inside the sopping blouse to peel it off her shoulders.
”Now, I'm just going to close my eyes, here, and . . .”
”I'm . . . f-freezing,” she whispered.
”Honey, you're not just freezing. You're in shock.”
”Uh-uh.”
”Uh-huh.”
”Not y-yet.” But almost. Over a twisted ankle and a storm. It was mortifying.
Her s.h.i.+rt slapped onto the floor in a wet heap, and in the next instant he had reached behind her and unhooked her bra- one-handed. In the dark. She might be cold and hurting, but she had enough sense left to realize she was being undressed by an expert. When his hands skated down her hips and discovered that her jeans were mostly dry above mid-thigh, she was relieved. Even putting modesty aside, she couldn't have coped with having them pulled off over her ankle.
The wool blanket was thick and scratchy and warm as he rubbed it over her bared back and shoulders.
”S-Sam, you know . . . you're n-not exactly . . . c-catch-ing me at my b-best.”
”Is that so?”
”I promise, I'm u-usually a lot d-different.”
”You telling me these goose b.u.mps aren't permanent?”
”I'm r-really . . . v-very efficient.”
”Well, Katie, we all have our off days. You sit tight while I hunt up some matches and get a fire started.”
He drew the blanket around her, and she clutched the ends together between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Fire. That sounded like salvation. She knew the cabin, knew it had heat and lights, but the power came from a liquid gas generator located outside. Weather conditions being what they were, a fire was the easi est, fastest way to make heat.
”In my pack,” Kate said. ”F-flash . . . light. And matches.”
”Good girl,” Sam murmured, dragging the pack across the rug toward them. ”I was beginning to wish I hadn't quit smoking.”
As he unbuckled the straps and began sorting through the knapsack, she tried to concentrate on him rather than the pain. He was on his knees, only inches away, and with every shallow breath she took she caught the scent of him-unembellished male blended with the smell of his wet leather jacket beside her and the wool around her shoulders. In the face of physical discomfort, her senses focused on those clean, honest smells and found in them something immensely comforting.
A beam of light shot across the room as he switched on the flashlight. He used it to find the matches, then turned to the fireplace. There was wood piled beside the hearth, and when he began arranging logs, she almost asked him to find her aspirin first; but if he was half as cold as she was, fire was more important.
Gritting her teeth and telling herself she could wait a little longer, Kate searched for something to say to keep her mind off her ankle.
”Did you know about this c-cabin, or did we just get l-lucky?”
Sam answered without looking at her. ”I'm renting it.”
”You're renting this p-place?”
”Right.”
”So, how c-come we . . . had to break in?”
”No key. I stopped to look around before I went to meet the owner-a man named Fournier.”
”Yes, I know Steve.”
Sam shot her a quick glance, and she added, ”He's my brother-in-law. He's m-married to my sister, Cressie.” His replies hardly encouraged conversation, but she persisted out of her own need. ”Besides, I k-know everybody around here.”
Sam's ”humph” was unimpressed as he broke kindling to stuff under the logs he'd stacked.
Kate closed her eyes briefly, then tried one more time. ”Where are you f-from?”
”Detroit,” he said, then reached for the matches to light the fire. The tip of a wooden match sc.r.a.ped briefly on the side of the box, then flared. He waited an instant, until the flame steadied, then touched it to the kindling in several places. The logs, being seasoned and dry, caught quickly, and soon tongues of fire licked at the hardwood.
Eager for heat, she wiggled closer as she reached for her knapsack.
”What do you want?” he asked.
”A black case. It's in the b-bottom. Somewhere.”
She let him take the pack from her, and he produced the case in seconds, snapping it open, then giving her a startled look at the sight of her stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, and other medical equipment.
”You a doctor?”
”A n-nurse pract.i.tioner and midwife.” She was having trouble preserving her modesty and rooting through the bag at the same time. ”Please. Do you s-see the aspirin?”
”Got it.”
”Give me th-three.”
Without comment, he uncapped the bottle and tapped the pills into the palm she'd stuck out from under the blanket. She groaned when her uncontrollable shaking made two roll onto the floor. ”I'm sor-”
”Hush,” he said, steadying her hand with his own as he shook out two more. His hand closed over hers, curling her fingers around the tablets; then he waited until she had them in her mouth before recapping the bottle.
”What's in here?” he asked, uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g her Thermos.
She answered with the aspirin on her tongue. ”Coffee.”
He wouldn't even let her try to handle the plastic cup but held it for her as she drank to swallow the pills. Caffeine might not be the best cure for a bad case of nerves, but she was desperate enough for its warmth that she reached with both shaky hands for the cup.
Sam hesitated. ”You sure?”
”No, but it f-feels good. Hot.”
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