The world was a white wonderland. That was the good news.
It was still snowing. That was the bad. This cabin was too small to live in a state of armed warfare with anyone. She and Mitch would have to come to some accommodation if they were to survive with sanity intact.
Last night they’d had an actual conversation, without rancor. The contempt that had filled his eyes since the first day had been replaced by a wary politeness. Maybe there was hope that they could come to some sort of accord, some way to make do until the snow stopped.
She turned at the sound of footsteps, to see Mitch’s head buried beneath the shirt he was shrugging on. For the briefest of instants, she saw his bare chest, ridged with muscle and covered with dark whorls of hair tapering down to a fine line bisecting his flat belly.
Then the dark blue fleece shirt came down to cover it.
Wait, she wanted to say. Let me see that again.
Perrie could barely stifle a gasp at her own thoughts. She’d never felt an urge like that before. Heat blossomed in her center and spread to her face.
Mitch’s startled gaze met hers. For an unguarded second, his eyes took on a glow that burned right into her. Caught like prey in the heat of his eyes, she found herself unable to look away.
Then his shutters slammed closed again. She quickly averted her eyes, but she was so rattled that she brushed one hand against the stove, jerking back reflexively, sucking in a breath at the stab of pain.
“Are you okay?”
She whirled at the sound of his voice right behind her, stumbling backward.
Strong arms shot out to pull her away from the stove.
And into the solid wall of his chest.
She wanted to lean into him, to wrap her arms around his waist and hold tight. She’d never felt as safe in her life as she did with Mitch around.
But deep within her, the woman scented danger. This male was all male. Too male for someone like her.
She pushed against his chest, stepping carefully away from temptation. One glance at his face showed her a jaw gone rock-hard, eyes turned cold.
“Let me see your hand,” he ordered, reaching for her after a hesitation that showed his unwillingness to touch her any more than he must.
She jerked her hand back. “It’s fine—I just—” she stammered. “I made coffee—”
“Don’t be foolish,” he growled, reaching for her hand again. “You can’t be careless with wounds up here. Medical help is too far away.” He turned her palm upward, then to the side. Then he grabbed a cup from the dish rack and moved to the door, opening it and scooping up snow. He returned and shoved it toward her. “Hold the spot against this for a few minutes.”
Then he walked away, shrugging on his coat and knit cap and heading outside, leaving Perrie staring after him.
So much for the truce. But armed dislike might be safer than that riot of feelings he’d provoked. Her mind drifted back to that brief, electric glimpse of skin. He had the muscles of a working man, not the pretty-boy bulk built in gyms. He was big. Powerful. And he made something deep inside her ache.
She’d had a crush or two when she was younger—all those towns where her mother drifted meant that she’d been exposed to lots of boys in many different schools. But the increasing stares from her mother’s boyfriends had kept her wary of the male of the species. And the last one—well, he’d scared her enough for her to leave for good.
And after that, she’d been too busy to worry about boyfriends of her own. All her time and efforts had been focused on survival, on working and finishing school and getting that first plum secretarial job that would lead her away from her mother’s life.
Fate had intervened, giving her the job at Matheson Industries, where she’d attracted Simon’s attention. He’d seemed worlds away from the squalor of her youth, like someone who could lift her up into a life that was pristine and orderly, free of any remnant of the life she’d escaped.
But she’d discovered darkness in his world, too.
Perrie had never felt like this before. Too warm, achy and restless in a way that made no sense.
But if this were desire, Mitch wouldn’t welcome it. Or share it. Simon had given her ample evidence that she wasn’t the kind of woman who could satisfy a man. She was no good at passion.
But still something called to her, made her wonder, made her wish, just a little. Foolish or not.
No harm in wondering, right? All too soon, she and Davey would be gone.
Perrie removed her hand and studied the faint red streak, assuring herself that it was minor. Then she looked out the window again, smiling wistfully at her thoughts. For one bittersweet moment, she remembered how his body had felt against hers, how his dark eyes had sparked.