Paternity Unknown. Jean Barrett

could be open and honest with her.

      And Ethan had been neither. Because if he had told her the truth, he would have risked involving her in his mess. He didn’t want that. Didn’t want her to learn she had a fugitive on her hands. She was already vulnerable enough just having him here.

      But Lauren must have already realized that. She couldn’t have missed his concern about the radio, and must have wondered about it, even if there had been no way for her to guess he feared a newscast naming him as a wanted man. Probably not much chance of such a report, though, when Seattle and what had happened there were a long way off. Still, there was always the possibility.

      No, he didn’t want to hurt her. So he had withheld an explanation, even though she was entitled to one. But she hadn’t demanded answers from him. She had accepted his evasive silence, even respected it. Amazing woman.

      She’s not for you, Brand. Just stop looking at her, will you?

      Fine. He’d look elsewhere. Admire instead the cabin her grandfather had left her. They must have been very close, Lauren and her grandfather. Shared a lot of good times together that left her with sweet memories. Thinking of his own grandfather, and how vastly different their relationship had been and how it had ended, Ethan envied her that.

      Yeah, he liked the cabin with its stone fireplace and rough log walls. It was solid and honest. But not austere. Probably because Lauren had added her own personal touches, such as the colorful rugs on the polished plank floor, the cheerful curtains at the windows, the watercolors on the walls, the wealth of books on the shelves. Things that made the place safe and inviting. Like its owner.

      Here he was back to thinking about her again. This was no good. No good at all.

      Damn it, why couldn’t it stop snowing? He needed it to stop snowing. He needed to get away before it was too late, before he wound up losing his sanity along with his self-control. He needed to leave her while she was still untouched by the trouble he had brought with him to this place.

      “THE LAMPS ARE getting low on oil,” Lauren said.

      They had been burning the lamps all day against the gloom of the storm. It was late afternoon now, and the light outside was beginning to fail.

      “There’s kerosene in the shed. I’d better bring in a fresh supply.”

      “I’ll go,” Ethan volunteered. “It’s about time I started to earn my keep.”

      She looked down pointedly at his shoes. “In those? I don’t think so.”

      Yeah, he thought, following her gaze, he’d been in too much of a hurry to leave Seattle to think of taking a pair of boots with him. “So I’ll get wet feet.”

      “Just when I’ve got you on the road to recovery, you want to go and risk a relapse.”

      “What? You think you’ll have to nurse me through something like pneumonia just because I get wet feet?”

      “We’re not going to argue about it.” She headed for her coat and boots located beside the front door. “Besides, I know how to deal with that shed door and just where to lay my hands on the kerosene when I get inside.”

      She was a stubborn woman. And, in her determination, also a damn appealing one. He was reluctant to let her go.

      “You be careful out there,” he cautioned her.

      “You forget,” she said, tugging on her boots, bundling into her coat, “I’m used to wading through drifts. Be back before you can miss me.”

      She was gone then, out the door and clomping across the porch. And he already missed her.

      Ethan was starting for the fireplace to lay another log on the blaze when he heard it. A slow rumble overhead that escalated to a rapid roar.

      What in the name of—

      His gut tightened on him as, beginning to understand what had just happened, he raced to a window that overlooked the side of the cabin. It was true! The snow that had been accumulating on the roof all day had surrendered under its own weight, sliding from the steep slope like an avalanche off the side of a mountain.

      Worse than that, Lauren had been passing under it when it collapsed. He could see one of her arms sticking out of the mound. Nothing else. The rest of her had been buried.

      He didn’t stop to snatch up his coat. Didn’t care how exposed he was to the unforgiving cold. All that mattered was digging Lauren out of that pile before she suffocated.

      He never felt the wind that blasted at him as he tore out of the cabin and around the corner. Never felt anything but an urgency to reach her. Dropping to his knees when he got to the mound, he clawed at the snow, pulling it away in great handfuls.

      The top of her head appeared. Then her face. And finally her shoulders. When he could get his hands under both of her arms, he heaved, dragging her up out of the mass that had imprisoned her.

      Ethan staggered to his feet with his precious load, fought his way back to the front of the cabin, up the steps, across the porch and inside. Kicking the door shut behind him, he strode across the room and placed her on the floor close to the hearth.

      And all the while, as he hunkered down in front of her, lifted her up and struggled to free her of her coat and boots, he was sick with fear.

      God, she looked so white and frail, felt so cold and wet! He stripped off her mittens, seized both her hands and began rubbing her limp fingers. Her eyes were closed. Was she unconscious?

      “Lauren, can you hear me?”

      “Okay,” she muttered, her eyes drifting open. “I’m okay.”

      His relief was immense.

      He didn’t know when it happened. When his hands were no longer holding hers. When, instead, they were on either side of her head, his fingers in her silky hair. The two of them were face-to-face now, mere inches apart.

      There was a long silence, her eyes searching his, questioning. It wasn’t a total silence. He was dimly aware of the crackling blaze in the fireplace behind her, the muffled hum of the generator somewhere out back.

      “Ethan?” she whispered.

      It wasn’t a question as much as it was a plea. That’s how he chose to read it anyway. And he answered it, surrendered to the thing that had been thrumming between them all day.

      Head angled, he brought his mouth down to hers. Kissed her, at first gently and then with abandon. Tasted her sweetness, savored her flavor with his tongue.

      He was aware of her scent, something as subtle as wild-flowers. Aware, too, as he deepened their kiss, that her lush body pressed to his was no longer cold. It radiated a heat that ignited his senses.

      Was Lauren the first to recover her sanity? Him? Or both of them at the same time? It didn’t matter. Either way, he felt the loss when they drew apart.

      She stared at him, clearly shaken.

      “It’s what happened,” she said, eager to explain the madness that had seized them. “Not just now with your digging me out of the snow and carrying me back inside. It’s the whole thing. Our being caught here like this together in the storm. It isn’t reality, so it’s done things to our emotions, made them reckless. You see?”

      Ethan nodded. Agreed that their kiss had been the result of an irrational, temporary behavior, because that’s what she seemed to need. But he didn’t believe it. For him, it had been very real. In just a few hours, Lauren McCrea had become vital to him. And, with time running out on him, he could do nothing about it.

      Chapter Three

      “Why don’t you confess, Ethan? Think of how much better you’ll feel after you tell me all about it.”

      The voice that taunted him was as soft as silk. And as deadly as a cobra. It was also familiar. He knew that voice, didn’t he? But