Just A Little Bit Dangerous. Linda Castillo

His hands were beyond numb.

      “You okay?” he shouted over the roar of wind.

      “You mean aside from the fact that I’m wet and cold and hungry beyond belief and my life is wrecked? Hey, Cowboy, I’m just peachy over here. Don’t worry about me. I mean, who needs their fingers and toes when they’re going to be spending the rest of their life in prison?”

      Even though she was less than three feet away, he could barely make out her silhouette through the driving snow. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. Hang tight, okay?”

      “I’ve been hanging on for a year, now. A few more minutes aren’t going to make much difference.”

      An instant later Brandywine stumbled. Jake looked down, squinting through the snow, realized she’d stumbled over the lowest rail of a broken-down fence. Pulling up on the reins, he looked ahead. Relief trickled through him when the weathered exterior of the cabin loomed into view.

      Sliding off the horse, he led her to the east side of the cabin where a shallow lean-to blocked the wind and snow. Jake walked over to Rebel Yell and looked up at his charge. She gazed back at him, shivering, her cheeks bright pink within the pale oval of her face. Wisps of wet hair curled wildly around the hood of the duster.

      “Nice p-place,” she said. “C-come here often?”

      He would have bought the tough-guy act if her teeth hadn’t been chattering. An Emergency Medical Technician, Jake knew it wouldn’t take long for hypothermia to set in under these kinds of conditions. He probably wasn’t too far from that point himself. “Sit tight,” he said. Taking Rebel Yell’s lead, he tied the mule to the manger, then turned to the woman. “Lift your right leg over her neck and slide down,” he said.

      Holding her cuffed hands in front of her, she did as she was told. It would have worked if her legs hadn’t given out the instant they touched the ground. If Jake hadn’t been there to catch her, she would have fallen. But he was there, holding her close—way too close—and far too aware of how good she felt in his arms.

      Startled violet eyes met his, a kaleidoscope of emotions scrolling in their depths. Jake saw awareness and caution coupled with something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He breathed in, got a lungful of her scent, felt it knock him upside the head like a fence post. She smelled earthy and elemental, a heady mix of sweet mountain rain and woman that stirred him despite the cold. He felt the hard thump of a pulse, but he wasn’t sure if it was his or hers. Just that it was racing like the wind, and he was far too wise to ask himself why.

      “Careful, I’ve got you,” he said.

      “I’m c-cold.” She winced. “M-my feet are numb.”

      “Why didn’t you say something?”

      “I figured it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out it’s seriously cold out here.” Grimacing, she shoved a handful of hair from her eyes. “Like you care, anyway.”

      “It’s my responsibility to get you back to Buena Vista safe and sound.”

      Her humorless laugh shouldn’t have irked him, but it did. “More like dead or alive.”

      “Don’t overdramatize. It’s annoying.”

      “I’m not overdramatizing. I’m simply being realistic.”

      Jake knew he should step away. He should have stepped away the instant he’d felt the brush of her body against his. But she was curvy and soft against him, and her scent was doing a number on his judgment. Not to mention another part of his anatomy that seemed determined to betray him.

      “Don’t sweat it, Cowboy Cop. I know you’re just doing your job. I’m not taking any of this personally.”

      When he looked into her eyes, he could tell she really meant what she was saying. “I don’t want to see you hurt,” he said.

      “Yeah, you just want to get me back to Buena Vista in one piece so I can spend the rest of my life in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. That’s real compassionate. But I guess a girl in my position has got to appreciate compassion when she can, you know?”

      Jake sighed. “I’m not going to get into this with you now.” Releasing her, he stepped back. “I’ve got to get these animals fed and bedded down for the night.”

      He turned toward Brandywine, opened the saddlebag and pulled out a halter, lead and a bag of grain. Slipping the bridle off the horse’s head, he replaced it with the halter and tied her to the manger. Scooping snow from the manger, he divided the bag of grain between the two animals. As they fed, he turned to his charge. “Give me your hands.”

      “Don’t tell me you trust me enough to take off these cuffs.”

      “Trust doesn’t enter into the picture here, Blondie. This is a dangerous storm, and I could use your help.”

      “Imagine that. A lawman needing my help.”

      Frowning, Jake fished the key from his belt, unlocked the cuffs, then stuffed them into the compartment. Without speaking, he turned back to the animals, unfastened the two bedrolls from the saddles and offered them to his prisoner. “Would you hold these for a minute while I untack?”

      She nodded. “Maybe you should deputize me or something.”

      “I don’t think so.” He set the bedrolls in her arms, then went about untacking the animals. A few minutes later, a saddle horn in each hand, he turned toward the cabin. “Let’s see if this place has a roof,” he said.

      “Cowboy, I’m going to be really disappointed if it doesn’t.”

      “You’re not the only one.”

      “I guess it would be unreasonable for me to hope for hot water.”

      “Best case scenario is a fire—if there’s dry wood.”

      “Room service?”

      “I’ve got some instant meals, jerky and a few cookies.”

      “Chocolate chip?”

      “Peanut butter.”

      “Jeez, you really know how to crush a girl’s dreams.”

      Jake moved past her and reached for the knob. The door squeaked when he pushed it open. The pungent odors of old wood and dust greeted him. “No snow on the floor,” he said. “That’s a good sign.”

      He stepped into the dimly lit interior, his boots thudding dully against the plank floor. It had been a year since he’d been inside the one-room cabin, and it was every bit as dilapidated as he remembered. He’d gone camping with Tony Colorosa and Pete Scully, and they’d run into rain. Jake had remembered the cabin from a search and rescue operation years before, and they’d ended up spending the night.

      “It’s not exactly the Ritz, but it’ll do,” he said.

      “We’ll have to call housekeeping. There’s a pane missing from the window and it’s snowing in the kitchen.”

      Jake looked up to see his charge stroll into the kitchen area. She’d lowered the hood of the duster he’d given her and handfuls of brown-and-blond-streaked hair curled around her shoulders. He tried not to notice that her teeth were chattering, or the occasional shiver that racked her body. Most of all he tried not to notice that she looked more like somebody’s camping partner than she did a convict on the run.

      Tearing his gaze from her—and thoughts that were anything but appropriate at a time like this—he looked toward the window where snow blasted in through a broken pane. Two inches of the stuff covered the rough-hewn countertop. “I’ll patch that.”

      “Is there a bathroom?”

      Jake stared at her, suspicion flaring hot in his gut. “There’s an outhouse just off the back porch.”

      When she started toward the back door, he reached out