His Pretend Wife. Lisette Belisle

rose hastily, dismissing the notion that Jack, with his dark good looks and devil-may-care attitude, could mean anything more to her than a thorn in her side. Like bad news, he’d arrived out of the blue, claiming her brother owed him a favor. Drew had given him a job, and she’d rued the day ever since. Was it only two months ago?

      It seemed longer.

      Nothing in Abby’s sheltered life could have prepared her for a man like Jack Slade. He was everything nice girls like her had been taught to avoid.

      Abby stared out the window overlooking the lumberyard and watched the daylight fade to dusk. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the parking space where Jack’s logging truck should be. His motorcycle took up the space.

      Running her hands up and down her arms, she felt chilled and weary. And worried. Jack could be hurt, or lost in the woods. It happened to even the most experienced loggers, and Jack hadn’t been around that long. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t thank her for sending out a search party simply because he was a couple of hours late.

      Abby glanced up at the sky. Night was falling, and with it, the temperature. That settled it.

      Taking a deep breath, she walked into her brother’s office. “Have you got a minute?”

      Drew looked up from the pile of paperwork spread out on his desk. “I thought you’d left by now. What’s up?”

      “It’s Jack. All the other men have checked in, but there’s no sign of him.”

      Drew leaned back in his chair. “He’s probably just getting in a last load for the day. I wouldn’t worry about Jack, he can take care of himself.”

      Abby had heard that before, it was little comfort to her now. “But it will be dark soon.” Afraid to reveal her personal interest, she admitted, “I know it doesn’t make any sense. I just have this bad feeling.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “About Jack?”

      She ignored the amusement in his voice. Naturally, Drew was aware of their mutual dislike. Jack was Drew’s friend—not hers. Never hers. From the first moment they’d met, it had been hate at first sight. Abby couldn’t hide her disapproval and Jack had responded with male derision. To this day, their working relationship remained awkward.

      “Please,” she said, putting her reservations aside, “can you just check on him? Or send someone up there?”

      “All right.” Drew reached for the topical map—an aerial view of the section of forest where the logging site was located. “He should be just about here.” He circled a dot on the side of a mountain. “I’ll go have a look around.”

      Abby looked at the map, aware of how easy it would be to get lost. How long could a man survive out there?

      “I’ll come with you,” she said on impulse, unwilling to be left behind where she would worry. About Jack. The knowledge curled around her heart and squeezed.

      Half an hour later, they found the logging site. Jack’s truck stood parked by the side of the road. There was no sign of Jack. Abby felt a shiver of dread.

      The mountain stood before them; a rough logging track cut a path upwards. Huge black rocks penetrated the pure white snowdrifts. Drew shouted Jack’s name into the silence. No answer. Only the wind whispering through the stand of towering pine trees. By now, a pale white winter moon rode high, frozen in black space.

      Drew handed Abby a flashlight. “Here, you’ll need this. Stay close. I don’t want you getting lost.”

      Abby nodded. She didn’t need to be reminded.

      The climb was rough going, icy in spots. The surrounding forest was thick. Some winter branches were bare. In the moonlight, the shadows lengthened, darting in and out. The woods seemed to close in around Abby, bearing her down as the steep climb stole her breath.

      She felt a stitch in her side. Ignoring the dull pain, she kept climbing. Then she saw the fallen skidder, the bright yellow flash of metallic paint against the frozen white landscape.

      “Drew, look over there, to the left.”

      Drew shouted back, “Any sign of Jack?”

      Abby shook her head. “No, it’s too dark.”

      “Don’t worry. If he’s here, we’ll find him.”

      “He might have wandered off,” she said. For all his outer toughness, Jack was an inexperienced woodsman.

      Abby walked closer to the fallen skidder. Under the twisted metal, a form took shape, broad shoulders in a buffalo plaid wool jacket.

      “Jack,” she whispered, struck by the ominous silence all around her. Her heart stopped. Then, started again in a new erratic rhythm.

      Abby rushed up the incline. She slipped once, but struggled to her feet and continued on. With Drew behind her, she was the first one to reach Jack. Removing one glove, she sank down on her knees beside him, and searched for a pulse in his throat. She held her breath—until she felt a slow but steady throb beating under her fingertips.

      Jack was so still. Wedged between the ground and a heavy metal strip, only his head and shoulders were exposed. His hair gleamed black against the snow. His face was pale, his lips blue. A bloody, inch-long gash stood out against his wide brow. His thick eyelashes fanned out over high cheekbones.

      He was frowning.

      Typical.

      Abby had rarely seen him smile.

      “He’s alive?” Drew asked, the words clipped and taut.

      “Yes,” she murmured, finding her voice.

      Drew released a harsh breath. “Looks like he’s been here for a while. Good thing the snow provided some insulation to keep him from freezing.”

      Abby’s eyes filmed with tears of relief. “Thank God.”

      Jack Slade was alive, he was going to be all right. She refused to consider anything else.

      “Don’t move him. We don’t know how badly he’s hurt.” Drew stood up, his cell phone in hand. “But by the look of things, he’ll need an airlift to the nearest medical center. I’ll give Seth a call, so he can get right on it.”

      Abby nodded. In addition to being the local sheriff, Seth Powers was a good man to have around in any emergency.

      While Drew called for help, Abby turned her attention back to Jack. She brushed his hair away from his brow, surprised at the soft silky texture. Everything about Jack Slade seemed so hard.

      Half-conscious, Jack felt a woman’s soft, soothing touch. With only distant youthful memories of his grandmother, he wondered if he’d died and gone to heaven. He opened his eyes and encountered hazel eyes rimmed in gold. He knew the woman leaning over him.

      One thing for certain—he wasn’t in heaven! Not with Abigail Pierce on hand to torment him.

      “Abigail.” He tried to tell her to go away and leave him alone. But the words remained locked in his throat. Why did she have to plague him now?

      She leaned closer—her breath warm against his face. “Please, lie still. You’re safe.”

      “Safe?” he said in confusion. How could that be when he was lying battered and half-frozen with his leg crushed and a black sky falling on him? Maybe this was all a nightmare, and he would wake up any minute….

      “Drew’s here with me, he’s calling for help. They should be on the way.” Her face went all soft. Jack stared, mesmerized, as she continued. “A few more hours and you would have frozen. Where does it hurt?”

      Trying to lift his head, he sank back and shook off a wave of dizziness. He focused on her voice. “Everything’s numb, but I think my arm’s broken.” He swallowed hard. “My left leg’s bad. I know it.”

      “Just