Stranded With the Detective Page 7

  “Colby!” She reached for him, but he pushed her back.

  “I’m okay.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Just lost my balance. I’m o-okay.” He took off again, decidedly less sure-footed than he’d been before.

  She grabbed his right hand, rubbing it between both of hers as they walked. Had he been that pale earlier? A clicking noise sounded. His teeth were chattering. The rapidly dropping temperatures were taking their toll. If she didn’t do something fast, he was going to succumb to hypothermia.

  She glanced around, desperately scanning the trees for some kind of shelter. Colby swayed again. She put her arm around his waist and knew he was in really bad shape when he didn’t complain or insist that he could walk okay on his own.

  “Too bad you’re not a smoker,” she teased. “We sure could use a lighter right now to start a fire. I don’t suppose you were a Boy Scout and know how to start one without any tools?”

  He plodded forward without a reply. His eyes were glassy looking now. Even his lips were pale. Dear Lord, what was she going to do? This man was going to die because of her stupid refusal to wear a dead man’s coat. She had to warm him up, and there was only one way she could think of to do that right now. She’d take a play from his own playbook.

  Up ahead, a stand of oaks was tightly spaced together, forming a semicircle. It wasn’t much of a shelter, but it would block some of the cold air. She yanked her hand out of his and pressed him back into the group of trees. Then she yanked the zipper down on her jacket too fast for him to realize what she was about to do. The jacket was off and draped around his shoulders before he could protest.

  He didn’t protest at all.

  Instead he blinked at her, swaying like a drunk as if he was trying to figure out what was happening.

  That’s when she unsnapped her bra.

  If she’d lacked any confidence about her body, she’d have died a quick death of humiliation right then and there. Because all Colby did was sway in the wind, his eyes still glassy. But at least they were open. And his gaze was right where she wanted it.

  She flung her bra to the ground, her large breasts tight and perky in the forty-or maybe thirty-degree temp now. Her skin prickled with goose bumps all over and she felt like she was going to die herself if she didn’t put the jacket back on. But she wasn’t about to get dressed again until Colby was coherent and demanding that she put the stupid coat on.

  He leaned back against the trees as if he didn’t have the strength to stand on his own. But still he said nothing. Did nothing.

  Tears clouded her vision. Was she too late to save him?

  She blinked the tears away. No time to dwell on her own useless emotions. This was about saving Colby. She stepped between his thighs, her belly pressed against the most intimate part of him through his jeans. Then she lifted his hands, which were ice-cold. She drew a deep breath, bracing herself, then pulled his hands to her breasts.

  They both jerked at the contact, him probably from the shock of realizing that her naked breasts were filling his palms. Her because it was like immersing herself into an ice-water bath.

  “P-Piper,” he whispered through chattering teeth. “Wh-what are...y-y-you—”

  “Just touch me,” she whispered back, molding his fingers around her breasts, pressing herself against him. “I want you to touch me, Colby.” She did a sinful swivel with her hips.

  His eyes widened. His tongue darted out to moisten lips that were cracked and dry. And then, finally, his fingers began to move. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, moving her hips, rubbing against him like a cat. His fingers tightened, slid across her skin, testing the weight of her. One of his thumbs brushed her nipple and she had to hold back a moan.

  Something about this man set her nerve endings on fire. She’d started doing this to warm him up. But just a few minutes in and she was practically sweating. All she could think about was how wonderful he smelled, how wonderful he felt. Especially...there. She swiveled. He sucked in a breath, his body jerking against hers through the fabric of his jeans.

  She slid her hands up his shirt and buried her fingers in the wispy ends of his thick dark hair.

  “Kiss me,” she begged. “Kiss me, Colby.”

  His head dipped down but his movements were still sluggish, his face far too pale. He didn’t take the lead like he’d done before. She stood on her tiptoes to reach him, brushing her lips against his once, twice, before his mouth parted on a soft breath of surrender. This time she swept her tongue inside his mouth, stroking, sucking, coaxing the passion from him, igniting the fire in him that he’d started deep within her.

  But this kiss was different. It was slow, tender and so sweet it had her heart melting in her chest. He was kissing her back now, but he was giving more than taking. Cherishing. Loving. Another breath shuddered out of him and he broke the kiss. He pulled back, his eyes focused again.

  “What are you doing to me, Piper Caraway?”

  “I’m rescuing you, Colby Vale. And I’m not finished yet.”

  His grin, that gorgeous, sweet, lopsided grin was back. Colby was back. She nearly wept with joy when he slid one of his hands down her back to her bottom and caressed her through her jeans. Then he was lifting her as he’d done before, but this time he didn’t stop when they were at eye level. His grin widened as their gazes met, then he lifted her higher and turned her around, pressing her against the trees.

  His hot mouth came down around her nipple and she very nearly came undone. She arched her breast against him, her hands clutching his shoulders, breaths gasping out of her so fast she felt dizzy. Then he was lowering her to the forest floor, the jacket suddenly beneath her back, keeping that part of her warm. And Colby was on top of her, making the rest of her burn.

  His mouth was everywhere—on her belly, her breasts, sliding up her neck and making her arch against him. Then he was doing sinful things to her mouth again. The man knew how to kiss. She could kiss him forever, sink into the forest floor and die a happy woman. But she wanted more, so much more.

  Reaching down between them, she grabbed the snap on his jeans.

  Suddenly his fingers were like a vise wrapped around her wrist, stopping her.

  “Don’t,” he choked.

  Her eyes flew open, and she nearly wept at the concern and want and need etched into his features as his gaze drank her in.

  “Why not?” She forced the words from her tight throat. “I want you.” She slid her hand down the impressive ridge in his jeans, making him jerk against her. “And you obviously want me. I can’t think of a better way to stay warm.”

  He shuddered and shook his head. “If I’m ever lucky enough to get you into a bed with a box of condoms, I’m not letting you go for a week.”

  She grinned. “Deal.”

  He laughed, then sobered. “Piper, if we stay here, if we make love, we’ll both end up falling asleep in each other’s arms. It’s called hypothermia. We’ll never wake up again.”

  She stared up at him, her playfulness forgotten. The heat they’d generated no longer seemed quite so hot. His face was still far too pale. And it dawned on her that he was right. Their judgment, her judgment, was seriously impaired. This might have seemed like a good idea, but it wasn’t a solution. Both of them were half-dressed now and getting colder by the second. And she knew he was right. If they fell asleep in each other’s arms, that would be the end.

  “Then what do we do?” she asked. “I can’t wear that jacket all the time and watch you freeze to death in front of me. I don’t want to be Rose while Jack dies.”

  His brow wrinkled. “Rose? Jack?”

  She stared at him in horror. “The movie Titanic? Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet?”

  His mouth curved in a wicked grin. Then he winked.

  She shoved at his shoulder. “You scared me for a second. I don’t think I could continue
to allow myself to be lost in the woods with a man who’d never seen that movie. It’s epic.”

  “Star Wars or Star Trek?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Dumb question you ask, dumb answer you will receive.”

  “I knew it.” He kissed her, then smoothed her hair back from her face. “You’re kind of perfect, you know that? Yoda?”

  She grimaced. “Calling me a hairy green man isn’t going to get you to second base.” She blinked, looked down at their half-naked bodies plastered together. “Um, home base I guess I should say.”

  He laughed and pulled her up, then grabbed the jacket.

  “Wait.” She held up her hands, refusing to let him put it around her shoulders. “I’m serious about what I said. I’m not wearing the jacket all the time anymore. We have to take turns.”

  He shook his head and handed her the discarded bra, which she quickly put on.

  “I’m not letting you walk through the mountains with only a bra to keep you warm,” he insisted.

  “Fine. Agreed. Give me your shirt. You take the jacket.”

  He frowned, but when he would have argued, she put a finger against his lips to stop him.

  “I mean it. We take turns with the shirt and the jacket. Maybe a little kissing, too, if that’s what it takes. I’m willing to suffer for the sake of survival.” She winked at him, making him laugh. “But we share what we have so we can both survive.”

  He was already shaking his head and trying to put the jacket around her again.

  She cursed and swatted it down. “Look at it this way, Colby. If you freeze to death, you’re leaving me all by myself up here. And whatever survival skills you have, trust me, I have far less than that. I’m great on a horse ranch. Anything else is beyond me unless I can call room service or a taxi. If you die, I die. So what’s it going to be? Are we going to waste all the warmth we just generated arguing? Or do I get your shirt for a while so you can take turns wearing the jacket?”

  She could tell it about killed him to agree to her terms. But even he couldn’t deny her logic. Either they both survived, or neither of them survived. They had to work together.

  Maybe twenty minutes later she was shivering so hard in his flannel shirt that she was doubting her sanity in ever insisting on giving up the jacket. It didn’t take much coaxing on Colby’s part to talk her into the first switch, giving him back the shirt while she wore the jacket again. But she kept a close eye on him and tried to count the minutes in her head to ensure they both had equal time wearing the jacket.

  The downward slope of the mountain started leveling out. It took a few minutes for that new information to sink in. Then it dawned on Piper what it could mean for them. She grabbed Colby’s hand.

  “It’s not as steep anymore. Are we out of the mountains? Maybe there’s a road close by now?”

  He squeezed her hand and let it go, looking far less excited than she’d expected.

  “It’s leveling out. But that doesn’t mean we’re out of the mountains yet. It could just be a plateau.” He turned, scanning the trees. Then he pointed. “Over there. See how the trees break and the undergrowth disappears? We should be able to see something from there, maybe get our bearings if nothing else. If the break is large enough, cabins or houses on adjacent slopes might be able to see us and vice versa. We could try to signal for help.”

  He let her hand go and hurried across the clearing toward the break.

  The thought of someone seeing them, or her and Colby finally seeing some of the houses that had to be scattered throughout these mountains had her clasping her hands together and offering up a quick prayer.

  Thirty feet away, Colby stopped at the break. He looked past the opening, then stiffened.

  “Piper? About how long did you say we were in the back of that truck?”

  She pushed a low-hanging branch out of her way, carefully stepping over a fallen log. “All total, maybe three hours, I’m guessing. And we’ve been up here two or three more ourselves. It’s probably around three in the afternoon, if that. Why?”

  He watched her as she stepped into the clearing. The concern on his face had her more worried than ever. He waved his hand toward the vista to her left. She turned, then pressed a hand to her throat.

  Spread out before them, in varying shades of reds and golds, was the beginning of one of the most spectacular sunsets she had ever seen. It was almost nighttime. The gloom in the forest that she’d attributed to the thick tree cover was actually the sun going down. Which meant they hadn’t been in the back of the truck for just a couple of hours.

  They’d been driving for most of the day.

  She must have fallen asleep and had never realized it. But misjudging the time, not realizing it was close to the end of the day wasn’t what concerned her the most. And she knew it wasn’t what had lines of concern furrowing Colby’s brow either.

  It was the endless rows of mountaintops spread out before them. As the sun began to spread its last rays across the land, there wasn’t even a hint of light from a nearby business, home or even a forest ranger’s cabin. Nothing about the vista looked familiar and she understood why. Palmer hadn’t dumped them somewhere in the Smokies. He’d dumped them deeper in the Appalachian Mountain range. Miles from civilization. And they didn’t even know which part of the mountain range they were in. They could be anywhere from Tennessee, to the Carolinas or even Virginia. There was no way to know.

  The only weapon they had was a knife and they didn’t have any supplies. Neither of them had shoes. Colby had a head wound. Temperatures were plummeting and there was only one shirt and one coat between the two of them.

  “Well,” she muttered. “Look at the bright side.”

  He slid her a curious glance. “What would that be?”

  “Things can’t possibly get worse.”

  A deep rumble sounded overhead.

  They both looked up as the first drops of freezing rain landed on their faces.

  Chapter Eight

  “You had to say it, didn’t you? ‘Things can’t possibly get worse.’” He leaned back against the pine tree beside the one she was leaning against. The canopy was keeping the worst of the rain off them. But they were still soaked, with no hopes of getting dry anytime soon.

  “You can’t possibly blame me for the rain.” She sounded completely outraged.

  “Sure I can.” It was hard to sound serious when she made him want to laugh.

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  He grinned and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m teasing.”

  She let out a deep sigh. “We’re never making it out of here. I vote that we go ahead with my original plan. Make love. Die happy. What do you say? Should we make like rabbits and have some fun?”

  This time he did laugh. “Where have you been all my life?”

  “Waiting for you of course.”

  They both smiled.

  “All right,” he agreed. “If it gets to the point where we’re out of options, we’ll do it your way. Make love. Die happy. Very happy.” He punctuated his statement with a lusty leer.

  She burst out laughing. “Only you, Detective Vale, could make a woman laugh when she’s thirsty, starving, freezing and hopelessly lost.”

  “I can usually make a woman laugh without all those variables. But since you don’t have the pre-stranded-in-the-woods Colby to compare me to, I’ll count that as a compliment.”

  “Please do.”

  A chattering noise sounded above them. He squinted up against the misty rain. “Too bad all I have is a knife. If I had my pistol I’d shoot that squirrel out of the tree and we wouldn’t be hungry anymore.”

  She grimaced. “Raw rat with a bushy tail isn’t my idea of a meal. But don’t knock the knife. It saved our lives back in that clearing. Who taught you to throw a knife like that?” She
rested against the trunk of the tree beside him again, rubbing the sleeves of the jacket as if trying to ward off the cold.

  Trying to keep her mind off how wet, cold and miserable they both were, he said, “It’s hard to say who taught me to throw a knife. My dad taught all three of us—my brother, sister and me—about guns. I reckon he could be the one who showed us how to throw knives. But it might have been my grandpa instead, or even my mom. I grew up with a knife in my pocket. Can’t even remember the first time I tried throwing one.”

  “I remember my first time,” she said. “I was ten. My mom had finally given up on me ever wanting to do the normal girlie extracurricular activities like ballet and cheerleading. So dad took me out in a field with some knives and bales of hay with targets tacked to them to try out his idea of fun. I hit the bull’s-eye my very first throw. He said I was a natural.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Huh.” He scrubbed his jaw. “Maybe I’ll let you throw the knife the next time we run into some bad guys.”

  She shook her head, her wet hair leaving trails of moisture across the jacket. “No, thank you. I don’t think I could ever throw a knife at another human being.”

  “No matter how bad they are?” he asked, turning serious.

  “Even then.”

  “What about if it was the only way to save someone else’s life?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know. Let’s pray I never have to find out.” She gestured toward his boot. “You said you don’t remember ever not having a knife. Is that why it was tucked into your boot? Habit? Or is that standard equipment for people who go to fairs in Tennessee?”

  “With all the free-flowing beer at those events, I sure hope not. I wouldn’t want to come up against a drunk waving a knife around. Honestly, I didn’t give it a second thought when my buddies showed up at my house and pressured me into going. I grabbed my work boots since they were by the front door. Having a large knife comes in handy on the job, so I keep it tucked in a sheath inside my boot.”

  “Handy how? Instead of breaking up bar fights with a billy club, you pull a knife?”