Hunted. Beverly Long

without standing up, press down with as much of your weight as you can. See if you think the branch will hold you.”

      She did as instructed. The car didn’t move.

      “Now I want you to stand up, and try to make it one smooth motion. Don’t push off on the car,” he warned her, knowing that would be her tendency and that it could be disastrous. “Once you’re standing, reach for a branch. Don’t yank it, just lightly use it to steady yourself.”

      There was no response, no movement. He waited. And got nervous. “Coming?” he prompted.

      “I’m going with Plan B.”

       Chapter Two

      “Plan B?” he repeated.

      “You know, that’s the plan where I make some final bargains. You know, the ‘hey, God, just get me out of this tree and I’ll be a better person’ type.”

      He’d made his own share of bargains over the years. As a kid, most of them had something to do with his mother keeping a job, his stepfather keeping his nose out of a bottle and him keeping his back from being blistered with a belt. So, yeah, he could understand where she was coming from.

      “The wind’s picking up,” he said, deciding it was better not to tell her that sometimes bargain-making sucked. “I think it’s time to get out of this tree.”

      “Okay.” And she did it just perfectly. Stood up, kept her hands off the car, and reached one arm up to steady herself.

      It couldn’t have gone better.

      Until the branch she was on cracked and she started to fall.

      Ethan lunged and managed to grab her and pull her tight to his body. Then he lost his own footing and his flashlight flew. Together their weight crashed through branches and limbs. He kept one arm around the woman and groped for something to hang on to. He thought it might be hopeless until he finally managed to snag a heavy branch and stop their descent. His arm muscle strained with the effort of holding both of them until he located a branch to rest his feet on. Without losing his grip on her, he edged back toward the trunk. When he got there, he leaned back against the sticky, rough bark.

      He was breathing heavily and his heart was pounding in his chest. His back had taken the brunt of the fall and he was grateful for his heavy coat. It had kept him from getting too beaten up. He had no idea how far they’d fallen but he bet it was at least thirty feet. The woman had to be scared to death.

      She hadn’t said a word yet. Hell, maybe she’d passed out.

      He’d gotten a quick look at her when she’d stood outside the car. Slender. Not overly tall. Dark hair piled on top of her head. Now that she was in his arms, he could tell that she was at least eight inches shorter than his six-two and her shoulders and ribs were delicately female. His chin rested on her head. Her hair was silky and he caught the scent of cherries with a hint of vanilla.

      As crazy as it seemed, she felt right in his arms.

      Hell, maybe he’d hit his own head.

      He shifted, carefully turning her in his arms. It was very dark and they were in the bowels of the tree. No moonlight filtered through.

      He wanted to touch her face, to see if her features were as delicate as her body.

      He kept his arms where they should be. “Are you okay?” he asked.

      “I think so. Thank you,” she added.

      Her voice was low. Sexy. “You’re welcome...” He let his voice trail off, hoping she’d fill in the blank.

      “Chandler,” she said.

      It was an unusual name and he got a very odd feeling. “Chandler what?” he asked.

      “McCann. Chandler McCann.”

      Ethan almost dropped her again. But he held on. Mack’s little sister. She’d been a skinny little girl, with wild hair and emerald-green eyes.

      Cat-Eyes.

      That’s what Mack had called his little sister. Ethan and Brody hadn’t called her anything, never really talked to her at all. She was just their best friend’s little sister. He remembered her as a quiet kid who liked her computer games.

      It had been a long time since he’d seen her—not since the time they’d celebrated Mack’s graduation from the Naval Academy, and Brody’s graduation from college and acceptance into medical school. By that time, Ethan had already had four years in Uncle Sam’s army. He’d completed flight school and had spent some time in the skies above Iraq.

      He’d been about twenty-two at the time, which would have made her fourteen. She’d still been a skinny kid with braces and wild hair, but he remembered thinking that Mack’s sister was going to be a pretty girl when she grew up. Brody must have thought the same thing because Ethan remembered hearing him tease Mack about having to beat the boyfriends off with a stick. Mack, who even at twenty-two was more James Bond than any of the actors who’d played the iconic hero on-screen, had calmly responded that he’d vaporize them.

      While Ethan hadn’t seen Chandler since then, he had heard about her. Knew that she’d been the valedictorian of her high school class, knew that she had gone to college in Chicago on a full scholarship and knew that she’d gotten her heart broken by some jerk a couple years ago. She lived in Denver. Worked for some company that was a military contractor.

      “I’m Ethan Moore.” He heard her swift intake of breath and wished there was enough light that he could see her eyes. His mother had cleaned the McCann house, the Donovan house and at least twenty others. That’s how he’d met Mack. That’s how he’d come to spend his summers in Crow Hollow.

      “Good old Walnut Street,” she said. “I guess that’s where we both learned to climb trees.”

      It was nice of her not to mention that his mom had been hired help. “I think we need to get out of this tree.”

      * * *

      SHE FELT HIM SHIFT, just enough to look past her. She didn’t know how he could see much, unless his night vision was considerably better than hers.

      She wished she could have seen more of his face. Ethan Moore. He’d been one of her brother’s best friends. And Mack still talked about him, spoke as though they kept in contact even though Mack’s work took him everywhere.

      She knew he’d be having a birthday soon. He’d turn thirty-eight next week, just two days after she turned thirty. She could still remember the year that her dad had invited Ethan over and they’d gathered around the kitchen table to share a cake. She’d been nine, he’d been seventeen.

      And she’d been secretly in love with him.

      And he’d pretty much ignored her every time she was in the room with him.

      God, that was so long ago. Now she was here in a tree scared for her life, and her teenage crush had come to save her.

      Not exactly the way she’d fantasized she’d end up in his arms.

      “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “I’m going to go first. I’ll guide you on where to place your feet. Branch by branch, we’ll work our way down. Okay?”

      She nodded. It sounded easy enough. Until she had to grab the first branch. Damn, her shoulder felt as if a ball of fire had landed there. While Ethan’s body had shielded her from the brunt of the fall, her shoulder had connected with something. She gritted her teeth, determined not to complain.

      He wrapped his strong hand around her right calf and she could feel his heat through her jeans. He gently tugged, guiding her to the next branch. It was slow going and by the time they reached the ground, she was clammy and terribly afraid that she might vomit after all.

      There was a midsize dog with dark fur at the bottom, and it circled