Stranded with the Rancher. Janice Maynard

close. She was certain she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I feel so helpless,” she said, unable to mask the quiver in her voice.

      “So do I.” The tone in his voice was weary, but resigned. It must be unusual for a man who was the undisputed boss of his domain to be bested by an act of nature.

      “At least we know someone at the ranch will realize you’re missing,” she said. “You’re an important man.”

      “I don’t know about that, but my brother, Jed, is visiting from Dallas. He’ll be looking for me.”

      She wanted to touch him, to feel that tangible reassurance that she was not alone. But she and Drew did not have that kind of relationship. Even without the filter of social convention, they were simply two people trapped in an untenable situation.

      His voice rumbled in her ear. “Why don’t we call a truce? Until we get rescued. I’ve lost the urge to yell at you for the moment.”

      “Please don’t be nice to me now,” she begged, her anxiety level rising.

      “Why not?”

      “Because it means you think we’re going to die entombed in the ground.”

      He shifted on his chair, making the metal creak. “Of course we’re not going to die. At the very worst we might have to spend a week or more in here. In which case we’d run out of food and water. We’d be miserable, but we wouldn’t die.”

      “Don’t sugarcoat it, Farrell.” His analytical summation of their predicament was in no way reassuring.

      The dark began to close in on her. Even with Drew at her side, her stomach jumped and pitched with nerves. “I need a distraction,” she blurted out. “Tell me an embarrassing story about your past that no one knows.”

      “That sounds dangerous.”

      “Not at all. What happens in the storm cellar stays in the storm cellar. You can trust me.”

      His muffled snort of laughter comforted her in some odd way. She enjoyed this softer side of him. When he stood to pace again, she missed his closeness. His scent clung to the shirt he had given her, so she pulled it more tightly around her in the absence of its owner and waited for him to speak.

      * * *

      Drew was worried. Really worried. Not about his and Beth’s situation. He’d leveled with her on that score. But what had his stomach in knots was the bigger picture. He should be out there helping with recovery efforts. To sit idly by—while who knows what tragedy unfolded in Royal and the surrounding environs—made him antsy. He was not a man accustomed to waiting.

      He made things happen. He controlled his destiny. It was humbling to realize that one random roll of the dice, weather-wise, had completely upended his natural behavior. All he could do at the moment was to reassure Beth and to make sure she was okay. Not that he regarded such responsibility as insignificant. He felt a visceral need to protect her. But he also realized that Beth was a strong woman. If they ever got out of here, she would be right by his side helping where she could. He knew her at least that well.

      Her random request was not a bad way to pass the time. He cast back through his memories, knowing there was at least one painful spot worth sharing. The anonymity of the dark made it seem easier.

      “I was engaged once,” he said.

      “Good grief, Drew. I know that. Everyone knows that.”

      “Okay. Then how about the time I took my dad’s car out for a joyride when I was ten years old, smoked a cigar and got sick all over his cream leather upholstery?”

      “And you lived to tell the tale?”

      “Nobody ever knew. My brother helped me clean up the mess, and I put the car back in its spot before Mom and Dad woke up.”

      “Are your parents still living?”

      “Yes. Why?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. “Are you going to complain to them about their hard-assed son?”

      “Don’t tempt me. And for the record, my secret is not nearly as colorful. One day when I was nine years old I took money out of my mother’s billfold and bought a loaf of bread so I could fix lunch to take to school.”

      “Seriously?” he asked, wondering if she was deliberately trying to tug at his heartstrings.

      Without answering, she stood and went to the ladder, peering up at their prison door. “I don’t hear anything at all,” she said. “What if we have to spend the night here? I don’t want to sleep on the concrete floor. And I’m hungry, dammit.”

      He heard the moment she cracked. Her quiet sobs raked him with guilt. He’d upset her with his snide comment, and now he had to fix things. Jumping to his feet, he took her in his arms and shushed her. “I’m sorry. I was being a jerk. Tell me the rest.”

      “No. I don’t want to. All I want is to get out of this stupid hole in the ground.” Residual fear and tension made her implode.

      He let her cry it out, surmising that the tears were healthy. This afternoon had been scary as hell, and to make things worse, they had no clue if help was on the way and no means of communication.

      Beth felt good in his arms. Though he usually had the urge to argue with her, this was better. Her hair was still wet, the natural curls alive and thick with vitality. Though he had felt the pull of sexual attraction between them before, he had never acted on it. Now, trapped in the dark with nothing to do, he wondered what would happen if he kissed her.

      Wondering led to fantasizing which led to action. Tangling his fingers in the hair at her nape, he tugged back her head and looked at her, wishing he could see her expression. “Better now?” The crying was over except for the occasional hitching breath.

      “Yes.” He felt her nod.

      “I want to kiss you, Beth. But you can say no.”

      She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “You saved my life. I suppose a kiss is in order.”

      He frowned. “We saved each other’s lives,” he said firmly. “I’m not interested in kisses as legal tender.”

      “Oh, just do it,” she said, the words sharp instead of romantic. “We’ve both thought about this over the last two years. Don’t deny it.”

      He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “I wasn’t planning to.”

      When their lips touched, something spectacular happened. Not the pageantry and flourish of fireworks, but something sweeter, softer, infinitely more beautiful. Time stood still. Not as it had in the frantic fury of the storm, but with a hushed anticipation that made him hard as his heart bounced in his chest.

      Beth put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined connecting with her at this level in the midst of a dark, dismal, cellar. Women deserved soft sheets and candlelight and sophisticated wooing.

      There was, however, something to be said for primeval bonding in life-and-death situations. He was so damned glad he had been with her. In truth, he didn’t know if she could have managed to lock herself in the cellar on her own. And if the hinges hadn’t held.... It made him ill to think of what might have happened to her.

      “Beth?”

      “Hmm?” The tone in her voice made him hungry for something that was definitely not on the menu at this moment.

      “We need to stop.”

      “Why? I enjoy kissing you. Who knew?”

      He swallowed against a tight throat. “You’re doing something to me that won’t be entirely comfortable given our situation.” Gently pushing his hips against hers, he let her feel the extent of his arousal.

      Beth jerked out of his arms so quickly it was a wonder they didn’t both end up on the floor. Her