The Black Sheep's Inheritance(22)

The flower beds had long ago gone to seed and now there were only  monstrous weeds fighting each other for space. The cabin itself was well  built, but the white paint on the wood-plank walls was cracked and  peeling. The front porch still boasted two chairs, and he remembered  coming up here as a kid to find Ed and his wife sitting side by side,  talking and laughing together. But then Helen had died five years ago  and Ed lived here alone, refusing to move to the city. Finally, though,  age had conquered his stubbornness, forcing him to put the home he loved  up for sale and move to an assisted-living apartment in Cheyenne.

"It's pretty," she said, stopping to take it all in. "I love all the trees standing like guarding sentries around it."

"Nice spot," he agreed, trying to keep his mind off the fact that she  was close enough to touch. Close enough to- "Come on. I'll show you the  inside."

"We can get in?"

"Ed always left a key above the doorframe." He found it, unlocked the  front door and stepped into the past. The furnishings were at least  forty years old and the air smelled of neglect and loneliness.

He watched as Colleen walked through the small house, checking out the  tiny bedroom, the single bath and then the functional but narrow  kitchen. Every window sported a view of the surrounding forest and the  deep ravine that tracked off to one side of the house. "Why's the owner  selling?"

He told her Ed's story and watched as sympathy filled her eyes. She was  intriguing. Always. He liked that she cared why a house was for sale  and that she felt pity for the man forced by time to give up the house  he loved. He felt a swift stab of something beyond the pulsing desire  still throbbing inside him, but he ignored it and looked at the cabin  through objective eyes.

"You'd have to get a generator," he said, scanning the interior. "Ed  didn't care about losing power, but I'm thinking you would."

She smiled and his heart rate jumped into a gallop. "You're right."

"You've got a wood-burning stove, so that's good," he continued,  slapping one hand down on the dusty cast-iron fireplace in one corner of  the living room. "But those pines along the side of the house will have  to be cut way back or down altogether. Too dangerous. A heavy snowfall  or a high wind could bring them crashing down on your roof. Not to  mention, you should have a clearing around the house in case of forest  fires."

"But those trees have been there for years."

"Yeah, Ed wasn't worried about the what-ifs, because he could patch a  roof or get out there and hack out a clearing fast if he needed to." He  paused meaningfully. "You couldn't."

She frowned slightly, walking through the room, running her fingertips  across the backs of the chairs, straightening framed photographs on the  walls.

"Structure's sound enough, I guess," he mused, looking around in an  effort to keep from staring at her. "But you'd have to have an  inspection to be sure. County road's at the end of the drive, so the  snow would get cleared fairly quickly out there."

She glanced at him. "What about the drive itself?"

He looked at her then and shook his head. "The county's not going to  clear your drive. You'd have to get a snowblower or hire someone to come  in after a storm."

Colleen nodded and huffed out a breath as she considered everything he  was saying. She was getting a hard lesson in what it meant to live so  far from the city, and he almost felt sorry for her. Almost, but not  quite, because he still didn't like the idea of her being up here on her  own. There were women on this mountain capable of taking care of any  kind of emergency, and he knew that. But Colleen was city through and  through, and she had no idea of what she might be letting herself in  for.                       
       
           



       

"You'll want the roof checked out, too," he added. "We had heavy snows  last winter and Ed wasn't in shape to take care of things like that  himself."

"Right. Another inspection," she murmured, looking around the room wistfully.

"This lot's on high ground, so you don't have to worry too much about  spring runoff, but you should have the gullies cleared so melting snow  won't get backed up and flood the house."

She laughed a little. "So I have to worry about the snowfall and then about when the snow melts."

"Pretty much." He leaned against one wall and watched as she peered through the kitchen window at the surrounding trees.

"How long did Ed and his wife live here?"

"About forty years," he said with a shrug. "After Helen died, Ed didn't  visit much with anyone. They never had kids-it was always just the two  of them. And without her, he kept to himself. Didn't really keep up with  the cabin, either."

"He missed her." She turned to look at him.

Gaze locked with hers, he nodded. "Yeah, he did."

Which was yet another reason to keep to yourself. If you never let  anyone in, you didn't miss them when they were gone. He'd learned that  lesson as a kid-and then again later on, when he should have known  better, but took a risk, only to be slammed for it.

"I want to look around outside," she said and he wondered if she could  read minds. She was staring at him oddly and she'd suddenly gone quiet,  and that just wasn't like Colleen.

But he followed her out, locked the door after them and returned the  key to its resting place. She walked to the end of the porch, leaned on  the railing and gazed out over the rocky ravine that dropped from the  edge of the porch and ran down the side of the mountain. Her hair  trailed over her shoulders and as she leaned out farther, her jeans  tightened over her behind, making Sage's breathing a hell of a lot  harder to control.

Then everything changed.

He heard a snap, then a squeak of alarm, and he was moving before he  even realized it. In a blink, he reached out and caught her arm as the  railing gave way. He heard the crash and rattle as the heavy wood  barrier, rotted by time and weather, clattered and rolled down into the  rocks below.

Pulling Colleen tight against him, he wrapped both arms around her and  held on. He felt her trembling and knew that he was doing the same damn  thing. "I told you he hadn't kept the place up." His voice came out in a  harsh rasp of tension and what felt a lot like fear. "Never lean on a  railing you're not sure about. Hell. Never lean on a railing no matter  what."

"Good advice," she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. When  she lifted her head and looked up at him, Sage felt the last of his  control snap as completely as that rotted-out railing had.

Her mouth was right there. Her breathing was fast and the pulse point  in her throat throbbed. He knew she was shaken. So was he. If he hadn't  grabbed her so quickly, she might now be at the bottom of that damned  ravine. Broken. Bleeding. Hell, she'd have been lucky to survive the  fall.

But she hadn't fallen. And now she was pressed close to him and when  his control snapped, all he could think was thank God. He bent his head,  covered her mouth with his and tasted her for the first time.

Heat slammed into him and Sage surrendered to it. His kiss was hard and  fierce and desperate. No time for subtle seduction. This was need. Hot  and thick and running through his body like lava. He ground his mouth  over hers and felt her surrender when she lifted her arms to wrap them  around his neck.

He groaned in response and flipped them around until her back was  braced against the cabin wall. His tongue parted her lips and he delved  deep, determined to taste all of her after waiting so long. Longer than  he'd ever waited before to claim a woman he desired. And he'd never  wanted a woman as he wanted Colleen.

Fire roared through his veins, blurring his mind, leaving only his body  in charge, and the aching throb in his groin let him know he couldn't  wait much longer. Need pounded inside him, feeding the flames  threatening to consume him. Her breasts pressed to his chest, her  fingers sliding up into his hair and all he could think was too many  clothes.

The icy-cold wind sliding off the top of the mountain didn't deter him  as he reached down and tugged the hem of her shirt up. She shivered, but  continued kissing him, giving him everything she had, pouring her own  need and desire into the melding of their mouths.                       
       
           



       

His hands cupped her breasts and she gasped, tearing her mouth from his  to lean her head back against the cabin wall and arch her body into his  touch. Even through the fragile lace of her bra, he thumbed her nipples  until she was groaning, leaning into him, offering herself.