Falcon’s Lair
Sara Orwig

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Lucia Macro with many thanks.

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

One

“Where do mountain lions go when it snows?”

Ben Falcon looked down at the five-year-old boy buckled into the seat beside him. Wipers on the Jeep clacked rhythmically as snow tumbled from the gray skies.

“Renzi, I don’t know where they go. Maybe they have caves they get into. They have thick fur coats though, so they don’t get cold.”

“I want to see a mountain lion. I haven’t ever seen one.”

“We have them around here. You’ll see one sometime.”

“I won’t if I have to go back to the city.”

Ben glanced at him, knowing he seldom mentioned his mother or going back to live with her. He felt a pang of sadness and reached over to give Renzi’s shoulder a squeeze. The boy’s big brown eyes gazed up at him with such trust and love that Ben felt another ache for the child. How could his mother not care about him or want him?

Ben followed the curve in the road and saw the low-lying buildings spread across the valley, their roofs white with snow, smoke curling from chimneys. The Bar-B Ranch for boys who needed temporary homes away from homes. From the first afternoon he had met Lorenzo Lopez, Ben had been drawn to the child and now occasionally took Renzi to stay overnight for several days at his ranch, which bordered along the south boundary of the boys’ ranch.

Ben halted the Jeep as the tall director strode outside. Blond, cheerful and energetic, Derek Hansen pulled his parka closer around his face and waved.

Ben returned the wave and looked at Renzi who had unbuckled his belt and was fastening his parka. He gazed up at Ben and threw his arms around him. “Thank you, Ben, for letting me stay with you.”

Ben hugged the small boy in return. “We’ll do it again soon, Renzi. I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Thanks.” Renzi slid across the seat as Ben reached over him and opened the door. Renzi climbed out, waving at Derek as he ran past him into the building.

Ben lowered a window. “He seemed to have a good time.”

“I know he had a good time,” Derek said. “Thanks for giving him the extra attention.”

“I wish I could more of them. It’s the first week of April, and from reports I’m getting, we’re in for another hell of a blizzard.”

“I don’t think Mother Nature knows it’s supposed to be spring. You take care going home.” Derek stepped back and Ben swung the Jeep around and drove away. He passed two boys riding horseback and he waved, seeing them wave in return. The world became a white blur, snow bending the limbs of the dark spruce that lined the county road as he headed back to his place.

Finally Ben turned his Jeep along the last grinding climb up the mountainside toward his ranch house perched in the Sangre de Cristo range of the Rockies. Snowflakes swirled on the sigh of the wind while the Jeep’s motor roared in the silence. The road curved, the land dropped away to the east and Ben’s gaze swept the white world, the dark treetops below him. His eyes narrowed as a flash of orange caught his attention.

“What the devil?”

A lick of fire danced skyward, flames shooting up and black smoke spreading. Stunned, Ben stared in amazement, and then he jammed his foot on the brake, calculated where the fire was and swore under his breath as he threw the Jeep into reverse.

Some damned tourist was on his property and had gone off the mountain! The car must be burning.

He made the tight turn, the Jeep’s wheels inches from the edge that dropped away for hundreds of feet down the mountain. Then he jammed his foot on the gas pedal, skidding down the twisting road, snow flying out behind the wheels as the Jeep took the snaking curves.

Winding his way as swiftly as possible, he descended to the valley. Knowing every inch of his land, he turned off onto what he knew was a narrow dirt lane beneath the snow.

Seldom had he wanted a cellular phone on hand, but now he wished he had one so he could call 911 and let the highway patrol handle this one.

He slowed, easing his way over rough terrain, following splashing Flint Creek, tall spruce and bare-limbed aspen blocking his view of the blaze. Moments later he spotted the fire through the trees and drew a deep breath. The highway patrol couldn’t save anyone caught in the conflagration, and the flames looked as if they would hit the gas tank at any moment.

Ben climbed out of the Jeep to approach the car, his skin prickling because he expected an explosion. On the ground near the car something dark shifted. He frowned, drawing a swift breath as he looked at a mass of thick hair like a slash of chestnut against the white snow. A woman was sprawled facedown only a few feet from the fire, the orange flames bathing over her.

While he raced toward the prone figure, panic swept him because the car was going to blow any moment now. Suddenly she pushed up and struggled to her feet. With a cry she pitched forward. Stretching out his long legs, he caught her.

“Easy. I’ve got you.”

“Got to go—” she gasped, struggling to get free of him. With another sharp cry, she sagged against him, and he swung her up in his arms, feeling a rush of admiration because she wasn’t crying hysterically, but was fighting to keep going.

“We have to get away from the car,” he said.

“Help,” she whispered, snow beading her dark lashes, falling on her pink cheeks as she looked into his eyes. A cut left a thin scarlet line across her cheek to her jaw. Her arms went around his neck, clinging tightly.

Ben whirled around, running with her, and she placed her head against his chest. A protective urge that he hadn’t felt in years made him clasp her tightly against his body. She was soft and smelled of springtime. Locks of her silky hair blew across his jaw and he felt a pang, realizing it had been a long time since he had carried a woman in his arms. Desperate, he stretched out his legs, trying to get as much distance as possible between them and the car.

A loud blast behind him threw him forward. He went down, trying to cover her body with his own. For an instant he was aware of the supple curves beneath him, long legs tangling with his, her softness. He looked down at her as she stared at him, her green eyes seeming to pull him into their endless cool depths.

Something hit his shoulder with a blow that felt as if a hammer had pounded into him. He felt a sharp pain and glanced back at a burning hunk of material lying on his leg. He kicked it away, rolling in the snow to extinguish his burning jeans.

When Ben turned to the woman, she lay sprawled on her back in the snow, her lashes dark shadows above her cheeks, her face pale, a crimson stain showing where her dark green slacks were ripped. Cuts were across her hands, on her cheeks, and a sleeve of her navy parka was ripped, hanging loosely and revealing her scraped and bleeding arm. Ignoring the pain that shot across his shoulder, he picked her up again. Turning his back on the wreck, he rushed toward his Jeep.

Gently he placed the woman in the back of the Jeep and threw a blanket over her. “You shouldn’t have been driving in this storm. You don’t belong here anyway,” he grumbled, frowning because of her stillness. He wondered why she was here. The nearest resort was at Rimrock, forty miles to the west, and the small town of Concho to the southeast seldom drew anyone along the rugged stretch of state highway near his place. And she had been on private property, driving on the road to his house. He guessed she had gotten lost. Either that or car trouble had caused her to look for help. He slid his hand beneath her coat and felt her pulse. To his relief, it was steady.

“Snow blinded you?” he asked, brushing a lock of red hair away from her forehead. A tiny smattering of freckles covered her nose, giving her a young, vulnerable look. He yanked out his handkerchief and dabbed at the blood on her cheek. “Crazy lady,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t have been driving in the storm. I’ll take you home where it’s warm, and let’s hope you don’t have internal injuries or broken bones that need a doc. If you do, we’ll have to call for the emergency chopper. In the meantime,” he said, placing his knuckles against her throat in an uncustomary tender gesture, “you’re going where no woman has gone before,” he said quietly, thinking about his mountain home and the privacy he guarded so fiercely.

He climbed out and went around the Jeep to slide beneath the wheel. “I need to get you where it’s warm,” he said, wondering about this sudden urge he felt to talk to her even though she was unconscious. Maybe it was the woman’s silence that compelled him to talk. Or a feeling that by talking to her, she wouldn’t sink deeper into unconsciousness.

Usually he resented any intrusion into his privacy and sent trespassers scurrying away with a scathing remark or look. Even beautiful trespassers. When he wanted a woman, he would find one on his own terms.

He put the Jeep in gear and wound his way back to the road. By the time he was climbing the last quarter mile to his home, daylight was gone. Large flakes of snow spiraled against the windshield, spinning in the twin beams of headlights.

When he finally slowed in front of his house, a husky bounded forward, barking as Ben braked and climbed out. “Down, Fella. We’ve got a guest, and she’s hurt.”

Ben leaned into the back and as gently as possible, lifted the woman into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Locks of her red hair curled against his sheepskin-lined coat. Large flakes fell and caught on her lashes and dotted her hair. Ben tightened his arms, holding her close. She was limp and unconscious and he worried about her, glancing at the gash in her thigh. With care he carried her in long-legged strides toward the dark bulk of his log house that looked as rustic and natural as the trees surrounding it.

As soon as he opened the door, the dog bounded past him into a wide, comfortable room decorated in deep reds and blues with a polished plank floor and braided rugs scattered across the room and in front of the fireplace.

Kicking the door closed, Ben carried the woman through the front room to the large bedroom that ran along the back of the house, its floor-to-ceiling glass giving a panoramic view of the snow-swept mountains and the wide valley. Without giving the windows a glance, he crossed to the king-size bed and knelt to ease her down as the husky curled up in front of the fireplace.

Yanking back the covers, Ben held the woman against him as he sat her up to pull off her bulky navy parka. A green sweater clung to curves that made him pause while his gaze wandered down over her enticing fullness. He lowered her to the bed and removed her fur-lined boots.

Easing away a boot, he frowned as he looked at her swollen ankle. Each brush against her bare skin was evidence of her chill from the cold and shock. In a lithe movement, he crossed the room and piled logs in the large stone fireplace. In minutes a fire blazed as he returned to her. He stared down at her, knowing he had to peel away her slacks and bandage her wounded thigh. With sure fingers he unbuttoned the soft woolen slacks and slid down the zipper.

“Sorry, lady, but you need help, and this is the only way you’re going to get that wound bandaged.” He eased down the slacks and the ripped panty hose, unable to keep his gaze from drifting over creamy skin, her flat stomach and a clinging, pink lace teddy that did little to hide the thick auburn curls at the juncture of her thighs.

He felt his body responding with an intensity that shocked him. His gaze shifted to the gash across her right thigh. Ben went to the adjoining bathroom to get what he needed for first aid.

Seated beside her, with a warm, damp cloth to wipe away the blood, he paused when his hands touched her smooth, cool skin. She was too cold—probably chilled to the bone and in shock—and he knew he should work quickly and get her covered. As he tended her, he tried to ignore the steady throb of his shoulder because her injuries required his attention first.

Her arm was scraped, and as he pushed the sweater high he felt for broken bones. While he probed carefully, he was aware of the delicacy of her bones, the blue vein throbbing in her slender neck. He placed his hand against her throat and was reassured by her steady pulse.

Too aware of her long-limbed beauty, he bandaged her thigh and shifted on the bed to lift her leg and clean a scrape along her shapely calf. As smooth as silk, her flesh was warming beneath his hands, and he was intensely aware of every bare inch exposed to him. His body responded in a manner that was intense, and he paused, flicking a glance over her again, over the flimsy bit of pink, up to her face.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” he said quietly to her as he worked. Her eyes were closed, her full lips rosy in spite of the paleness of her skin. Dark bruises were beginning to show on her face and legs and arms.

As the fire crackled and roared, the room grew hot and perspiration beaded Ben’s brow. He yanked away his jacket and sweater, baring his muscled chest. He sat close against her hip, holding her hand to pick away fragments of glass and clean tiny cuts, aware how slender and delicate her pale fingers looked against his callused, tanned ones. He placed an ice pack against her swollen ankle and elevated her foot on a pillow.

With care he pushed her sweater high to feel for broken ribs, pressing gently, sliding the tips of his fingers over her satiny flesh, too aware of the rise of her breasts only inches away, his hand brushing the soft fullness and sending currents of prickly awareness through him. Satisfied nothing was broken, he slipped the sweater down again.

When he finished ministering to her, he pulled up the covers, his gaze traveling up her long legs, pausing a moment on the thick triangle of curls, then drifting higher over the sweater. As he studied her, his body heated until he felt as if he were standing in flames.

He glanced back at the roaring fire. The husky raised his head and looked at his master. “The lady’s very pretty, Fella,” Ben said to the dog, which thumped its tail.

She moaned softly, and Ben stroked her hair away from her face, sitting down beside her. “You’re all right,” he said quietly. “Damned lucky to be alive. If I hadn’t found you—” He paused, his brow furrowing when he remembered the explosion. Even if she had survived the blast, if she had spent the night on the mountain, she might have died from exposure.

“You’re safe and warm and you’re going to be fine. And when the storm ends and you’re well, I’ll take you to Rimrock where you were probably headed.” As he talked to her, he traced his finger down along her jaw, avoiding touching bruises. Now she was warming, the heat of her body beginning to feel normal to his touch. He felt a surge of relief and then told himself he was being idiotic. She was a total stranger who was probably on her way to meet her lover. Ben reminded himself that she didn’t mean anything to him.

He already knew there was no wedding ring on her finger. Annoyed with himself, he shifted his weight. He was having an acute uncustomary reaction to this stranger.

“Maybe I feel like I saved you, so now I should protect you,” he said softly, inhaling the sweet lilac scent that lingered about her.

Ben stood and crossed to the bathroom to look at himself in a full-length mirror. His shoulder was dark with a bruise, a lump swelling across his back. He had a cut on his temple, which he hadn’t felt. He pushed back his thick black hair, and examined the dark skin of his face—a heritage from the long-ago Comanche blood. He stripped away the T-shirt, unbuckled his belt and peeled his jeans from narrow hips, muscles rippling as he pulled off mud-spattered boots. Tossing aside his briefs, he stepped beneath a hot shower and winced when the water hit his injured shoulder.

In minutes when he was dry, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and socks, he walked back to the bed to look down at her.

She stirred, moaned and her eyes flew open. Caught in their green depths, Ben felt an electric jolt as he gazed at her. Her straight reddish brown brows drew together and she sat up, gasping with pain. Her eyes widened and a look of terror filled them.

“I have to go—” she gasped, pushing away covers. “I have to find him.”

Barely hearing her words, Ben sat down beside her and leaned gently against her shoulders, catching her fluttering hands in his. “Shh. You’ve been in a car wreck, and we’re in the storm of the year. You’re safe here.”

“No! I have to go now!” Her agitation increased.

“You’re not going out in this storm. And you can’t stand, either. Your ankle is hurt,” he said forcefully. Holding her, feeling her warm, delicate shoulders beneath his hands, Ben wondered when she would discover she was only half-dressed.

“No! I have to—” she cried, pushing against him, trying to sit up and crying out. She grabbed her side. “Oh!”

“You’re hurt,” he said, his broad chest blocking her. He didn’t want to frighten her or make her think his intentions were bad. For a moment he had to laugh at himself. Since when had he become so damned trustworthy with a beautiful woman? His cynical thought disappeared as he tried to struggle with her without hurting her.

She pushed against him and twisted away suddenly, lunging across the bed. He reached to catch her, scrambling over the bed as she swung her feet down.

“My clothes!” she gasped, giving him an angry look when she stepped off the bed. When she put her weight on her foot, a cry tore from her and she would have fallen, but he caught her, his arm going behind her shoulders, the other arm beneath her warm thighs. He swung her up against his bare chest, leaning forward to place her on the bed again.

She struggled against him. “Be still,” he ordered, and green eyes stared at him defiantly, yet she became quiet.

“I took your slacks off because your leg is cut and bleeding. You can’t walk—”

“Have to go,” she murmured as he covered her and sat beside her, pushing hair away from her face. Sitting up, she waved her hands in a futile protest, determination in her eyes as she stared at him. “Have to find Ben Falcon now—”

Stunned, Ben felt a jolt. He shifted away from her as quickly as if he had discovered a rattler in his bed. His breath went out in a hiss and he stood, his brows becoming thunderclouds while his scowl deepened and all his protectiveness toward her changed to a churning rage.

Two

Ben stared at the woman as she looked around in uncertainty, and then her eyes closed and she lay back on the bed again.

Frowning, he placed his hands on his hips. “Dammit,” he said quietly, thinking how he had brought her here. He should have guessed, yet it had been almost four years since Weston had come after him or sent someone after him. Long enough that Ben thought his father had given up trying to get him home.

Ben wanted Weston’s woman out of his house and his life. For a few minutes, an image of Andrea danced in mind, and the terrible anger he had felt when he had discovered she had been picked by Weston as the perfect match. The first few years after buying the ranch, he’d had damn little time to have even a casual date, and after the stormy relationship of his parents, Ben had no inclination to rush into any lasting commitment, but the last couple of years he found the long, lonely winter nights making him think about going to town and seeking companionship. His gaze slid back to the woman.

Angered, he turned and walked to the window as he tried to gain control of his emotions. Snow swirled and fell against the glass, some sticking in frosty white blotches. Ben’s thoughts drifted back to his childhood, to the abusive father he had clashed with as far back as he could remember.

Weston set impossible demands and Ben was the oldest of two sons, never able to satisfy his father’s demands. Ben rebelled before he was ten years old and from that time on it was war between them, with Weston bullying, threatening, punishing, doing everything in his power to break Ben’s stubborn determination to live his own life. And he thought about Geoff, his younger brother, who had tried to please their father and live up to impossible demands until he’d been killed trying to win a speedboat race sponsored by Falcon Enterprises.

The last time Weston had come after him, Ben had spent six months in a Texas jail for assaulting the hired men sent to force him to go home. Within two hours after arrest, his father had appeared and offered to get him out immediately if he would go to work in the family company. But Ben had refused, preferring jail to life under his father’s impossible demands. He thought of all the people Weston had sent to bring him back—detectives, cops, strong-arm toughs, beautiful women.

Ben’s thoughts shifted and he turned to look at the woman. How much was she going to pay? Would her body be part of the bargain? Maybe it was because of her momentary vulnerability, but she didn’t look like the flashy, high-dollar call girls Weston had sent to lure him back when Ben had been in his twenties.

Now as he calmed, Ben’s brows drew together. She had looked right at him and said she had to get to Ben Falcon.

He frowned and moved back to the bed. She was determined to get to him, yet she hadn’t recognized him. His father would have coached her, briefed her and given her pictures.

“Dammit,” Ben said and leaned over her, sliding his hand over her head. He felt the lump on her head beneath her hair and realized he’d been so busy looking for broken bones and tending her cuts, he hadn’t felt for bumps on her head easily hidden by her riotous red hair. He glanced at the snow again and crossed the room to the phone to punch 911.

In minutes he had made arrangements for the medical chopper from Albuquerque to fly to his ranch and pick up the woman and get her to Emergency. Next he called his physician friend, Kyle Whittaker, to ask him if he would meet them at the hospital.

Dressed in a black sweater and jeans, Ben gathered up his keys, pushed his wallet into his hip pocket while he punched a number and told Zeb Diez, his foreman, what had happened and where he was going. “I’ll light up the grounds where the chopper lands. You turn the lights off when we’re gone.”

“Sure, boss.” Zeb’s deep voice sounded alert. “We’re going to have to get feed to the animals in this storm.”

“You know where the keys are to the Jeep if you need it. And check with Derek to see if they need any supplies,” Ben said, staring at the gray night sky and thinking about the boys’ ranch. In weather like this they wouldn’t be able to get supplies in and would rely on Ben or his men.

“I’ll check on them,” Zeb answered.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know when I’ll be back,” Ben promised, replacing the receiver and glancing at his watch. He had agreed to be ready and waiting for the chopper.

He picked up her jacket, searching the pockets, looking at the label. Next he picked up the slacks and repeated the process, pulling out a torn, folded slip of paper. It was a page from a memo pad with the name Jennifer printed in blue at the top. He stuffed the paper into his own pocket and walked over to the bed.

“C’mon, Jennifer or whoever you are—we’re going for a ride,” he said in a tight, angry voice. Yet he worked slowly and with care as he eased her slacks back on her, lifting her slim thighs as he slid the dark wool up over them, trying to avoid letting his gaze roam to the pink lace. He slid his hands beneath her soft, round bottom, his breath catching while his manhood swelled and hardened. He tugged the slacks up to her waist, buttoning them and feeling his body respond as intensely as if he had been undressing her. When he pushed back the covers, she groaned and opened her eyes, staring at him and frowning. She rubbed her head.

“Where am I?”

“I’m Ben Falcon,” he said carefully, watching her closely.

She frowned and rubbed her head. “Ben,” she said hesitantly, “I know you, don’t I?”

“I saw your car go off the road and found you and brought you here.” Her green eyes had a crystal clearness that at the moment held a troubled vulnerability. “I’m Ben,” he continued, “and you’re—?”

She rubbed her forehead again. “I’m—” She paused and looked up at him and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said in a whisper. “I can’t think. My head hurts....”

“I found a slip of paper in your pocket that had the name Jennifer written on it, so I guess we’ll go with that.”

“Jennifer,” she said quietly, while shaking her head and frowning. “I don’t know.”

“You have a bump on your head. I’ve called an Albuquerque hospital. They’re flying a chopper here, and I told them we’d be ready and waiting. Relax and don’t worry. You’ll be in good hands. I have an orthopedic friend who’ll meet us in Emergency.”

“I don’t remember. I remember snow. So much snow. My friend Mary.” She paused and looked up. “Mary is my friend.”

“Mary who?”

She thought and shook her head. “Do you have my purse?”

He sat down on the bed, still feeling the deep-running current of anger, yet right now she looked frightened and in need of comfort and a friend. He took her hand in his. “You were traveling in a snowstorm and went off the mountain, wrecking your car. The car burned, and I didn’t see a purse when I found you. I’ll go back tomorrow and look to see what I can find.”

“I’m lots of trouble for you.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She looked down at his dark-skinned fingers holding her slender, pale ones.

“I don’t remember anything,” she said softly, frowning at him while worry clouded her eyes. “Thank you for helping me.”

“You’ll be all right,” he said gruffly. “Here’s your coat. Probably when shock from the wreck wears off, you’ll remember everything.”

She brightened and touched his cheek. Her fingers were cool and light on his skin. Startled, he felt an uncustomary awareness from such a slight, casual touch. “You’re hurt,” she said quietly. “Is that from trying to help me?” she asked, running her finger alongside the cut on his temple.

“It’s only a scratch.”

“You must have been in danger to get bruised and scratched like that. Thank you for taking me in and caring for me. You’re patient and kind,” she remarked, and smiled at him, revealing even white teeth and a dimple in her left cheek.

Startled, Ben was aware that never before had a woman told him that he was patient or kind. There was a trusting look in her eyes that tore at him because he couldn’t forget why she was in his bedroom. When her memory returned, she would not call him kind and he wouldn’t tolerate her in his house.

“I’ll put on my coat,” he said, standing and walking away from her, feeling as if he had moved away from warmth and sunshine, yet at the same time annoyed by the sensation. He yanked on his sheepskin parka, stuffed leather gloves in his pocket and jammed a broad-brimmed black Stetson on his head. Picking up her parka, he turned to find her watching him.

He crossed to the bed and she sat up, swinging her feet over the side. She paused, studying her slacks. “Did I dream I tried to get out of bed?”

“No. I caught you when you fell, and helped you back to bed. You’ve injured your ankle.”

“I didn’t think I was dressed,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“I took off your slacks to tend to your injured thigh, but when I saw we had to go to the hospital in Albuquerque, I put your slacks back on you,” he said in what he hoped was an impersonal tone. Her blush deepened while she looked away.

As he helped her into the coat, his fingers brushed her nape and her shoulders and he was intensely aware of each contact. She slanted him a thoughtful glance.

“I feel as if I’ve known you a long time.”

“I never met you before your car wrecked on my property,” he said evenly, trying to keep his voice impassive and curb his anger.

She frowned and bit her lip, and his gaze was drawn to the small, even white teeth that bit slightly into her rosy, full underlip. As he watched her, the pink tip of her tongue touched her upper lip and he felt desire stir, a curiosity to lean down and taste her lips and tongue and mouth that looked so enticing.

“I don’t have any difficulty remembering your name.”

He shrugged and began to fasten the front of her coat, zipping it closed as if she were a child. “I remember how to do that,” she said with a trace of amusement, and he looked into her eyes, seeing a warmth that made him like her in spite of her errand.

He smoothed her collar, brushing her hair back from her face, suddenly reluctant to move away from her. The moment he realized what he was doing, he stood, pushing up his sleeve to look at his watch.

“Let’s go to the kitchen to wait.” When he picked her up, she slid her arm around his neck. He tried to ignore the pleasant fit of her in his arms as well as her delicate scent that was growing familiar now.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in northern New Mexico in the mountains.”

“That means nothing to me,” she said with panic in her voice. “I don’t remember where I live or my name or why I’m here. Would you know if I lived near you?”

“You don’t. I own a spread of land on this mountain and along the valley—I raise cattle. The only other people in the valley are boys on a ranch for homeless kids.”

“I don’t know why I was driving in this storm, but I feel as if there’s something I need to do.”

He crossed through the kitchen and hooked his toe beneath a bar stool to pull it out and set her on it. “We’ll wait here for the chopper. I expect it within the next five minutes.” The husky followed them into the room, walking up to the woman and wagging his tail. As she scratched his ears, his tail wagged faster.

“His name’s Fella.” Ben handed her gloves to her and flipped the parka over her head, fastening it beneath her chin. She watched him solemnly, and he felt caught in the probing look, feeling an electric tension spark between them. His fingers stilled while her gaze seemed to wrap around him and pull him closer into a warmth that he needed.

His gaze lowered to her mouth, and then he raised his eyes back to hers. Fire danced in the emerald depths, and her eyelids drooped in a sensual look. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt as if danger threatened him while at the same time, desire was as hot as a flame curling inside him. He slid his hand beneath her hood behind her neck, pulling her head toward him as his gaze lowered to her mouth again.

“We’re strangers,” she whispered.

“That might make it better,” he answered in a husky, cynical voice.

“I know I can trust you with my life,” she said solemnly, “because I wouldn’t have survived out there in the storm.”

He was torn between wanting to savage her mouth, to take her lips and kiss her with all the passion and anger and curiosity he felt, to let her know she had voluntarily sought out the wolf in his lair and she would have to pay the price. At the same time, her eyes were trusting and warm with a sensuality that should be savored—a combination of innocent trust and womanly certainty that rocked him and made him want to brush her lips lightly with his own. He wanted to take care and time to ignite the passion that he suspected she was capable of. The thought startled him, and he wondered why he felt that way about her when he didn’t even know her.

His gaze was locked with hers again and he saw her reaction; she wanted his kiss. Was she one of the high-priced call girls, the thousand-dollar-a-night babes his father thought would entice him? Or one of the special ones who played for higher stakes, trying to win his heart because of Weston’s money? Anger surged and then ebbed as he looked down at her lips and slowly leaned his head closer. Her lashes lowered, and she closed her eyes while she placed her palms against his chest.

The pulsating clatter of the helicopter’s motor grew louder, cutting into the spell and making Ben swear silently as he paused only inches from her. She turned her head toward the door.

“Here comes the helicopter.” The note of fear in her voice was mirrored in her eyes when she gripped his hand. “Will you stay with me? You’re the only person I know.”

“I’ll be with you,” he promised gruffly, suspecting when memory returned, she would regret keeping him close and guessing that the fear was uncustomary for her. She had been brave—or foolhardy—enough to try to get to his place in a blinding storm, determined enough to feel she could successfully follow Weston’s wishes and bring the wayward son home.

Ben picked her up and she wound her arms around his neck again. When he opened the door, the husky bounded outside, barking at the noisy chopper as it set down only yards from the house, a dark bulk in the bright lights and brilliant snow.

Ben hurried to it, climbing inside while medics took her from his arms. Catching a glimpse of Zeb as he strode toward the house, Ben waved and saw Zeb wave in return.

When the chopper lifted, Ben rode beside her, holding her hand in his, aware she kept her gaze on him steadily while they whisked skyward. He glanced down at his place, the snow sparkling in the brightness of the yard lights and then they swept across the darkened land and he saw the shadows of spruce and pine and boulders that were dark against the snow. For an instant he felt a surge of satisfaction that came occasionally when he looked at his land. He had bought the first acres with savings and he was gradually enlarging, determined to carve a life for himself here, far removed from his past.

Like a noisy spinning top, the chopper raced across the night sky to set down outside a hospital in Albuquerque.

When she was taken to Emergency, Ben stood at the admitting desk, filling out papers, signing that he would be responsible for the bills.

“Ben,” a deep voice said, and Ben glanced around to see a lanky, white-coated doctor. Ben moved away from the desk to talk to his friend, tall, sandy-haired Kyle Whittaker, who folded his arms and leaned against the wall to listen as Ben related how he had found Jennifer and taken her home.

“She doesn’t remember anything, and I didn’t find any identification,” Ben said, knowing he was holding back on his friend, but he wanted to talk to Weston before the hospital was involved.

“We’ll check her over. The memory loss may be gone within hours.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Since you don’t know her, do you want to wait or turn it over to us and the Albuquerque police to locate her family?”

“I’ll wait.”

Kyle arched a sandy eyebrow and studied Ben. “That’s not the answer I expected.”

Ben shrugged. “She seems vulnerable right now.”

“I’ll keep you informed.”

Ben nodded and watched him walk away. In minutes Ben finished admittance formalities at the desk and he crossed the lobby to a narrow alcove with pay phones. With one quick call he could get her identity and have someone come pick her up and take her to Dallas where she belonged. He stared at the phone and felt a momentary reluctance as he remembered gazing into her green eyes and recalled the soft touch of her fingers on his cheek.

“Dammit.” He swore and picked up the phone, punching numbers. The receiver lifted on the third ring.

“You’ve reached 555-3210,” came an unfamiliar brisk male voice. “We are unable to come to the phone now. Please leave your message, your name, your number, and we will get back with you when possible.”

Ben swore again as he waited. A loud beep rang in his ear and he gripped the phone tightly. “Weston, I have to talk to you. You know the number. Your messenger was in a car wreck.” Ben slammed down the phone and thought of the executives who worked for his father. He could call one of them, but they wouldn’t do anything until his father gave orders.

Then he thought of Mark Kisiel, vice president of Falcon Drilling and a man Ben had always respected. He called Information, got Mark’s number and dialed, getting another recorded message. At the sound of the beep, Ben moved closer to the phone. “Mark, this is Ben. The woman messenger has been in a wreck. She isn’t badly injured, but she doesn’t belong here. Get my father to call. He knows the number.” Ben replaced the receiver and stared at the phone, finally deciding he couldn’t do anything else until he heard from his father or Mark.

Ben strode toward the double glass doors and stared at the yellow lights in the parking lot. The snow was still falling in the golden circles cast by the lamps, spreading in shiny, wet puddles on the slushy, salt-covered asphalt. He could tell them to contact his father about Jennifer and walk out now, leaving her in the care of the hospital and the police. Instead, he turned around and sat on a vinyl chair, staring at the snow while he waited, suspecting his father’s birthday last month had triggered this intrusion. Perhaps Weston was finally facing his own mortality and wanted to try again to bring his son back into the business. Bitterness and a coldness more chilling than the snow filled Ben. He closed his eyes and sat quietly waiting.

“Ben?”

Ben rose and crossed the room to Kyle who was marking something on a chart. “Dr. Hobson checked her, too,” Kyle said. “She has a mild concussion, no internal bleeding, no hemorrhaging. She’s bruised a rib, sprained her ankle. Beyond that, it’s minor cuts and bruises, and you did a nice job of tending her wounds. I want to keep her overnight for observation. In this storm, you can’t get out anyway.”

“I can go home in daylight the same way I got in. Put her in a room, and tomorrow I’ll charter a chopper to take us home.”

“That’ll be a big bill for a total stranger,” Kyle said, studying him more closely. Ben had known Kyle in college and when Ben had moved to the area, he had been surprised the first time he had broken a rib riding in a rodeo and had encountered Kyle at the hospital. Since then, when Ben was in Albuquerque, they occasionally had lunch together. Ben could count close friends on the fingers of one hand, but the orthopedic surgeon was one of them.

Ben shrugged. “I have to get back to the ranch tomorrow. My cattle will need hay dropped, so I can use the chopper before I send it back. When will her memory return?”

“I didn’t tell her—if it doesn’t return within two weeks, it may not return at all.” Kyle tucked the clipboard under his arm. “Where will you stay tonight?”

“I’ll get one of those lounge chairs in her room and I’ll stay with her.”

Curiosity burned in Kyle’s brown eyes, but he merely nodded.

“Kyle, I think my father sent her here,” Ben said quietly.

Kyle’s sandy brows raised in question. “I thought he’d quit coming after you. You know who she is?” he asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

“No, I don’t, but she drifted in and out of consciousness when I first picked her up, and one time she tried to push me out of the way. She said she had to find Ben Falcon. That’s when I realized she didn’t remember everything because she didn’t recognize me. The next time she regained consciousness, she didn’t remember that much.”

“Damn. If she knew your name, he must have sent her. Call him and get him to pick her up.” Kyle slanted his head, curiosity back in his eyes. “Unless you want to keep her around for a while.”

“I did call him while you were checking her over. I couldn’t get through—his answering machine took my message—so I called one of his men and left a message. Tomorrow I should get a response.”

Kyle shook his head. “Sorry if you’re going another nine rounds with him. I’d think by now he would realize you have your own life.”

“My father can see things only one way,” Ben answered flatly. “Until I hear from him or her memory returns, I’ll stay with her.”

He received another curious look from Kyle. “You’ve had sprains before, so you know what to do—ice tonight and tomorrow. Then have her soak her foot in hot water a couple of times a day. Four or five days and her foot should be okay. Still have crutches?”

“Yeah. Will it be worse for her to tell her what I suspect?”

“No, it won’t. Go ahead. We’ll check on her through the night. If nothing changes, we’ll release her early in the morning.”

“Okay. Thanks, Kyle, for coming out here in this storm.”

“Glad to do it. You’ll get a bill,” he added with a grin. “She’s in room 520 if you want to go see her.”

When he entered the silent room that had a small light burning in the adjoining bathroom, he closed the door quietly behind him and moved to the bed.

“Ben?” she asked, turning toward him.

His heart seemed to lurch and stop and then start beating again. She was propped against the pillows, the head of the bed cranked up so she was almost upright. Her flame-colored hair spilled over the pillow and her shoulders. In the white hospital gown she looked more defenseless than before. Her foot was elevated, a lump beneath the sheet.

Jennifer turned, her pulse jumping as Ben Falcon’s broad shoulders were a dark silhouette in the wide doorway. This stranger was a lifeline to her. The doctors had been reassuring, and she knew she was fortunate to be alive, from what Ben had said about the wreck, but when she tried to think about the past and nothing came to mind, a cold terror gripped her. She watched the tall man who was little more than a stranger, yet now so important to her. He crossed the room, and she couldn’t resist the urge to reach out for his hand.

His strong warm grip was reassuring as his fingers curled around hers, and she covered his hand with her free hand while he leaned one hip against the bed. “Thank you for staying,” she said, running her fingers over his large knuckles and reluctantly releasing his hand.

“I’m here and I’ll stay with you,” he said casually, tossing his coat on the back of the chair and pulling the chair close beside the bed.

“I know I’m interfering in your life.”

“It’s the middle of the night in a snowstorm, so there’s not a lot I could be doing if I were home,” he said lightly as he sat down beside her. He touched her hair.

“I feel like there’s something I’m supposed to be doing, but I can’t recall what it is. Something urgent.”

“It’ll come to you.”

“Ben, I know your name, but I don’t know mine.”

“You will. From what Kyle told me, you should wake up in the morning and have your memory back.”

“They said that I should sit up, and a nurse checks my blood pressure every thirty minutes.”

“I’ll sit here and talk to you.”

Relief surged in her. She knew she was interfering in his life, yet she was thankful to have him with her because she gained a sense of security from his calmness. Deep down she felt as if she had known him before the last few hours even though he had been firm in his answer that they had never met until he found her at the wreck.

“Every time I close my eyes, I feel as if I’ll lose you and I’ll be all alone in the world.”

“I’m here to stay,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. She placed her hand on his shoulder lightly.

“Thank you, Ben. I try not to think about tomorrow. I don’t have any money or any family or friends until my memory returns. I don’t know how I’ll pay for this hospital room.”

“I already have.”

She raised her head off the pillow abruptly to stare at him. “I’ll pay you back. I don’t know what job I had, but I must have done something. I remember keeping books and filing taxes—why can I recall my work and not know my name?”

“It’ll all come to you,” he said with narrowed eyes, as if something she said was causing him thought. “I’ll take care of you until you remember.”

“You’ve been good to me, and I know I can trust you. You must be an incredibly good person to take care of a stranger this way.”

He startled her with a sudden grin.

“What’s funny?”

“What makes you so certain you can trust me?” he asked dryly.

“Because my life was in your hands from the time you found me at the scene of the wreck until the helicopter arrived,” she replied quietly.

His grin faded and he studied her solemnly, his dark-eyed gaze direct and disturbing. She was aware of him as a man, remembering clearly the moment in his kitchen when he had been about to kiss her. And she had wanted him to kiss her. In the dim light of the room, his cheeks were in shadow, his prominent cheekbones highlighted softly, his lashes dark smudges over his midnight eyes.

“Jennifer, I may know something about you,” he said quietly, and as she gazed into his dark eyes, she felt as if she were about to step into a cavern filled with unknown terrors. A chilling premonition of disaster gripped her.

“From the tone of your voice, maybe I’m better off not knowing,” she said, and the look he shot her confirmed her suspicions.

Three

Ben stood and walked to the window, gazing at the snow tumbling outside, his hands jammed into his pockets. She waited, yet with every second of silence, her dread increased.

When he turned around, his dark eyes sparked with anger that made something inside her want to throw her hands up and tell him to stop. Instead she waited quietly.

“When you tried to get out of bed, you said you had to find Ben Falcon. You were on your way to see me.”

She frowned, staring at him. “You said we don’t know each other.”

“No, we don’t, but I can make a guess why you were driving to meet me. I think my father sent you. He’s hired you to get me to go home to work for him. He’s done this before.”

“Who is your father?”

“Weston Falcon. A few years ago he was a U.S. senator. He lives in Dallas and is CEO of Falcon Enterprises, which is primarily oil and cattle.”

It sounded as though Ben was discussing a friend of his, yet Jennifer could hear the tight thread of anger in his voice. Feeling frustrated, she shook her head. “That means nothing to me. I don’t remember.”

Ben looked out the window again. “After you were admitted, I called him and got an answering machine. I left a message that you’re in the hospital here. I called one of his employees and left the same message with him, so by tomorrow we should hear from my father. As soon as the storm abates, he’ll send someone to pick you up.”

Ben’s broad shoulders were silhouetted against the snowy window and he looked solid and reassuring, yet she guessed there was a great deal he was leaving unsaid. When he turned around to look into her eyes, she became aware of his maleness, and she wondered about his effect on her. Was it because of her helplessness and his comfort? Or was it a sheer physical magnetism? He didn’t seem happy with her, yet he had been kind to her, so the anger had to be bound up with his father.

“When daylight comes, I’m going home. You can wait here if you want— I’ll take care of the bill. I know my father will send someone for you.”

Panic gripped her and she knew it was unreasonable, but it was frightening to not be able to remember anything and to not know anyone.

He moved closer to the bed and looked down at her, touching her knuckles lightly with his fingertips. “Or if you’d feel better about it, I’ll take you home with me until someone comes to get you.”

She closed her eyes and caught his hand in hers. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling a surge of relief.

Ben experienced tiny sparks from her clasp. He looked at the top of her head, her shining hair. She seemed so vulnerable that sympathy rose inside him for her, yet he knew if she worked for Weston, she was tough and intelligent. He should walk out tonight, tell her goodbye and save himself some trouble. But he couldn’t do it.

He went to sit down and she watched him, meeting his steady gaze. “I know I should stay here, but I feel more secure with you.”

A strange humorless smile flitted across his face. He settled back on the chair. “You won’t when your memory returns.”

“You don’t get along with your father.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t. Weston is ruthless, determined and unrelenting. He’s been incredibly successful in business, and he did it on his own. He came from a poor farm background. My grandmother was a Comanche, my grandfather had a tiny farm that finally failed. Weston has built an empire and he was determined that he would raise his sons to run parts of it exactly the way he had, only, neither of his sons were carbon copies of him.”

“So, you have a brother?”

“He’s deceased now. Geoff was younger. My mother was as strong-willed as Weston, fighting him to her last breath. When I was ten, she died in a car wreck. Weston said I inherited all her rebellion and wildness. My brother tried to be what Weston wanted, and failed. I fought him. He’s never given up trying to get me back— using coercion, bribes, beautiful women— ” He broke off when she frowned at the last.

“He couldn’t have sent me as an enticement!” The words were out before she thought, and she blushed.

One dark brow arched and curiosity flared in his dark eyes. “Why not?”

Her cheeks burned, and she waved her hand, looking down at herself. “I guess I know that instinctively. I looked in a mirror here. I’m not the type of woman to be a— a physical inducement. I have freckles.”

“You also have a body and you have this— ” he said softly, leaning forward to stretch out a long arm and wind a lock of silky auburn hair around his fingers. She felt the gentle tug on her scalp as she looked into his dark eyes. He was leaning over the bed, only inches from her now. Her awareness of him intensified, startling her because she was having reactions that were strong. She decided it was because of her circumstances.

“I’m not fishing for compliments,” she said, avoiding his steady gaze and feeling embarrassed by the conversation, yet certain he was wrong, “but I don’t have the kind of body you’re talking about. Thank you for your compliments though. And look— ” She waved pale slender fingers at him.

He arched his brow again at her, catching her hand and glancing down at her small hand in his large, callused palm.

“Even if you ignore the cuts from the wreck, this doesn’t look like the hand of a woman who would be a beautiful enticement,” she said, too aware of the solid warmth of his hand holding hers. “Whatever work I do, I use my hands enough to prevent long, red nails. No, if you’re right, he must have sent me to use my wits to talk you into coming home.”

“That would be a first where a female is concerned,” Ben replied dryly, leaning back against the chair, but still holding her hand, his thumb running idly across her knuckles. She wondered if he noticed what he was doing; she was too conscious of it. “And the most dangerous to me,” he added softly with an arch of his eyebrow.

“I’m not a threat to you. I might not remember anything, but I know what my instinctive reactions are.”

Suddenly his eyes twinkled as he gazed at her. “Stop arguing, Jennifer. I believe you.”

“I’m glad you do.” She studied him, wondering what he was like, what would make him laugh. “When did you leave Texas?”

“When I was twenty-six, eight years ago. The first time I left was when I was seventeen and ran away from home. After a couple of rebellious years, I decided to cooperate with him. I got a degree in petroleum engineering and went to work for him. Unfortunately, he wanted to make every major decision.”

“You couldn’t work any satisfactory agreement out between you?” she asked. Ben continued to rub his thumb across her knuckles, careful to avoid the cuts and bruises.

He shook his head, trying to bank the anger he felt as he remembered the struggle with Weston. “No, we couldn’t. It was his way or no way.”

“Maybe he was right. He was older and more successful.”

Ben looked into her clear green eyes that appeared guileless and wondered how she had become entangled with Weston. She seemed intelligent and quietly self-possessed, not the type of woman he associated with his father. “My father was demanding and brutal when I was growing up. Geoff always conformed to save himself beatings, but he couldn’t achieve the excellence my father demanded, so he paid a price emotionally.

“After I grew up a little, I finally decided that maybe I had been too bullheaded, that I should try Weston’s way. When I got into the business, I found out things I had only suspected. My father places success first. He’s not above hurting others, lying, cheating or anything he can do as long as it’s within the law or he knows he won’t get caught.

“It finally came to a takeover where he was going to crush good people to get a small company that would be a toy to him, something he’d discard as soon as he acquired it. I killed the deal and packed and left. I’m cut out of the will, and with Geoff gone, the fair-haired boy is Jordan Falcon, an older cousin who works for Weston.” Ben shifted restlessly. “My cousin tries to be what Weston wants. They can have it all.”

He became silent when a tall, white-uniformed nurse came to take Jennifer’s blood pressure. As soon as the nurse left, Jennifer turned to him. “When did you move here?”

“I bought the ranch eight years ago. For the first four years Weston sent people to force me to come back. But the past few years, I haven’t been bothered by him and I figured he had finally given up on me.”

“Maybe you’re wrong about me,” she said quietly.

Studying her, Ben wished he were wrong, wished that she was trying to find him for an entirely different reason— one that had no connection to his father. He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Jennifer.”

“I might be related to someone who works for you and looking for him or her.”

“No women work for me.”

“I’ve talked too much. You’re probably exhausted after working today in this storm. You don’t have to stay awake.”

“I’m all right and I’m glad to talk,” he said, releasing her hand.

“I wish I could remember something. Do you think my purse was destroyed?”

He shrugged. “I’ll go tomorrow and look for it, but it’s probably blown to bits.”

She shivered. “Thank heaven you found me.”

“You would have probably survived on your own. You were struggling to get away from the car when I arrived.”

She ran her hand across her head.

“Head hurt?”

“Yes, and I hope breakfast is at dawn because I could eat this bed, I’m so hungry.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” As he started to rise, she caught his hand.

“Sit down! It’s the dead of night and I don’t want you to go hunting down a candy machine— ”

“I could use some food myself. He glanced at his watch. “There are all-night diners open around here— what’s your choice?”

“Please don’t go out in the storm for me.”

“If you don’t give me your choice, you’ll have to take potluck,” he said, aware she was still holding his wrist. She seemed to realize she was clinging to him and moved her hand to the bed.

“Now I feel terrible that you’re going out in the storm.”

“You’ll be easier to feed than all those steers I have to take care of tomorrow.” Her quick smile made him draw his breath. The dimple appeared in her cheek and he longed to really make her laugh.

“If you insist— ” she began, big green eyes focused on him, “will you do one more thing before you go? Can you help me up? I want to get to the bathroom— ” She was already pushing the covers away and swinging her long, shapely legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t have any slippers and I have on this dreadful hospital gown.”

“Come here,” he said, lifting her into his arms. She wrapped her arm around his neck, her coppery hair spilling onto his shoulder. He was aware of the warmth of her body through the thin hospital gown and he was glad it was a short distance across the room because his body was reacting to her nearness. He stepped into the bathroom to set her on her feet, his hand brushing lightly across the bare backs of her thighs as he released her. She supported herself with a handrail, holding her injured ankle up. “Holler when you want my help,” he said, stepping out and closing the door.

Feeling hot, too aware of each contact with her, he went into the hall and glanced up and down, his stomach growling in reminder that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Spotting the lighted nurses’ station, he walked down the hall and stopped in front of the desk. A nurse glanced up and then smiled.

“We’re starving. Is there anything open near the hospital where I can get hamburgers?”

“Sure, across the street,” she said, smoothing her blond hair.

“Is there anyplace I can get a magazine now? She asked for one.”

“Here,” she said, pulling magazines from beneath the counter. “And I’ll check her in just a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” he said, giving her a broad smile, and she smiled in return.

He stepped back into Jennifer’s room as she opened the bathroom door and started to hop out. He tossed the magazines and they landed at the foot of the bed. “I brought you some reading so you would stay awake. And none of that hopping around,” he said, picking her up easily. He tried to focus on the bed to avoid looking at her, but he couldn’t resist turning his head to gaze into her wide green eyes that were studying him with open curiosity.

“I don’t know how you could have had such a dreadful time with your father— you’re so cooperative. And if he’s not, I don’t know how I can work for him.”

“Your memory will return and you’ll get your answers,” Ben said gruffly, barely aware of what he was saying, more aware of the soft womanly feel of her in his arms, her red lips only inches away, the thin hospital gown that was almost nothing. As he studied her, she blinked, her expression becoming solemn, her lips parting, and he wondered if she were having half the reaction that he was.

He bent down to place her on the bed, and when she lay back against the pillow, he wanted to follow her down, to feel her softness under the length of him, to pull away the flimsy hospital gown. He remembered the pink lace teddy, the triangle of auburn curls, and his body hardened in response. He gazed into green depths that seemed to tug on his senses with silent promises. With an effort he straightened up, looking down at her, unable to turn away because there was a chemistry generating between them that held him like a direct contact with an electric current.

“Ben,” she said in the barest whisper, and his heart thudded against his ribs. He sat down on the bed beside her, his hip against hers while he leaned forward. He braced both hands on either side of her, bending close as she watched him, a slumberous invitation in her eyes until her dark lashes lowered.

He brushed his mouth over hers so lightly, the softness of her lips making him shudder. He wanted to tighten his arms around her, slide on top of her and kiss her passionately. Why was he having this reaction? Particularly with this woman who by tomorrow would be at cross-purposes with him? And then the thought was gone as her lips parted beneath his and he thrust his tongue over her full underlip, invading the velvety warmth of her mouth.

Jennifer moaned softly as he kissed her, his tongue going deep, touching the insides of her mouth and playing over her tongue. Her heart pounded violently while she returned his kiss, her tongue sliding into his mouth as she responded with an abandon that surprised her. An uncontrollable heat centered low in her body, spreading and making nerves raw, causing her to be conscious of the proximity of his strong male body.

He raised his head and she opened her eyes, looking into unfathomable darkness as he gazed solemnly down at her. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes and with a shock, she realized he looked angry.

“You’re thinking about my working for your father.”

“It’s there between us,” he answered, standing.

“Suppose you’re wrong? Or suppose when I hear your side, I quit?”

Suddenly his features softened. “I’m blaming you for things that happened in the past,” he said lightly, yet a muscle worked in his jaw. “I’ll be back soon.”

She watched him stride out of the room and lay back on the bed, wondering at the turn in her life.

Thirty minutes later Ben pushed open the door, and she dropped a magazine. Her heart jumped, her pulse accelerating because he strode across to the bed bringing with him a sense of strength and vitality that she needed. Snow was melting on his wide hat brim and across his broad shoulders, leaving sparkling drops of water in their place. Dropping sacks with mouth-watering smells of mustard and onions, he flung his coat and hat on a straight chair. Cold air swirled around him as he moved closer to help her get settled to eat.

He placed more packages on the bed. “I stopped at the hospital vending machine and bought you a comb, toothbrush, a few things. We’re leaving in the morning before the stores open or I’d get you some other things.”

“Thank you,” she said, picking up the package with the comb and tearing it open to place it on the shelf beside the bed.

In minutes they were enjoying a feast of hamburgers and onion rings along with cans of cold cola. She closed her eyes as she chewed. “This tastes wonderful! Thank you.”

“There are two burgers apiece.”

She laughed, and Ben’s heart thudded because the sound was as merry as the call of a meadowlark and her sparkling green eyes gave her a beauty that was breathtaking.

“I should have brought you three burgers and really made you laugh!”

“I can’t possibly eat two of these giant burgers!”

He grinned at her and shrugged. “You said you were hungry. I’m hungry and I’ll eat two.”

“Yours goes to muscle. Mine would go to fat.”

“There isn’t an ounce of fat on your body,” he drawled and watched her cheeks turn pink as she gazed at him. He shrugged. “I’d be abnormal if I hadn’t noticed.” He glanced through the window. “I heard the weather report while I was out. We’re in for more snow, and parts of the state are losing power from frozen lines that are down.”

“You need to be home.”

“There isn’t anything I can do tonight and in the morning, I’ll be there. A chopper can get in and out.”

She sighed as she wiped her fingers and mouth and folded up the paper the hamburger had been wrapped in. “What a feast! Thank you, Ben.”

He shrugged, starting on a second burger. “I was starving, too.”

“Tell me more about your life.” She sat up in bed and touched the back of his hand where a faint white line crossed from his knuckle to his wrist. “How did you get hurt?”

“Canoeing long ago when I worked one summer on a ranch in Colorado. Turned over in white water and gashed my hand on a rock. I went to Texas University, was on the track team,” he added between bites.

“You have a scar on your jaw.”

He looked amused as he touched the faint line across the lower part of his jaw. “Horse kicked me— if it had been a little higher, I would have lost an ear. I ride in rodeos occasionally.”

“You weren’t raised on a farm— why did you go into cattle and ranching?”

“Dad owns a ranch in West Texas and I used to spend summers there, and that was the best time of my life. I like engineering and I’ve worked on rigs and it’s challenging, but when I left home, I wanted as far from the oil business as I could get. There’s a satisfaction in living like I do. It’s cussed mean at times like this,” he said, glancing out the window where snowflakes still swirled and struck the glass to slide in a frozen heap at the bottom of the pane.

“This weather is bad for you and I’ve been so much trouble, but I feel safe in here, like I’m in a cocoon. I almost wish tomorrow wouldn’t come. I feel shut away right now without any problems or past, but then there’s no future, either.”

“You’ll be all right, Jennifer,” he said quietly and settled back in the chair, stretching out his long legs. “With daylight your memory should return.”

She gazed into his dark eyes and felt a troubling uncertainty, yet his presence and the conviction in his voice were reassuring. Feeling as if she could talk to him all night, she leaned back against the pillow. “You’re not married?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head, his gaze going beyond her. “Twice in my life I’ve been interested in a woman— one time it was on the verge of becoming serious, only I discovered she had been selected by my father.”

“Why would a woman do that?”

He gave her a cynical look. “I’m healthy, sound in mind and body. Marry me with Weston’s blessings and someday Falcon Enterprises would be mine and my wife’s. Some women are willing to give that a try.”

She blushed. “I didn’t mean you wouldn’t be appealing.”

“You didn’t?” he asked with great innocence, and she laughed again and he had to grin at her.

“I guess I’ll find out a lot about you because all we can do is talk about you. I don’t have anything to tell.”

He smiled, a quick smile that warmed her. “You’ll remember.”

“Tell me about getting started on your ranch.”

Locking his fingers behind his head, he told her about traveling cross-country and not intending to settle here, thinking he would go to Montana or Idaho.

It was hours later when his voice deepened, his words slowing. A nurse checked Jennifer often and had said it would be fine for her to sleep, yet they continued talking, Jennifer learning about Ben’s ranch and life. Finally he dozed and she studied him, his thick lashes dark shadows on his prominent cheekbones, an air of strength about him even when he was asleep. With a sigh she closed her eyes and prayed that her memory would return with the dawn.

* * *

The next morning they boarded a chopper for home, Ben sitting beside Jennifer. She was pale and quiet, remembering no more than she had the night before. The snow had stopped, but more was predicted. As they flew in the first light of dawn, he held her hand in his. She looked solemn, as if she were headed for an ordeal, and he suspected she was worrying because her memory was still absent.

As the sun tilted over the horizon and the Sangre de Cristo Mountains loomed into view, snow sparkled on peaks. The dark horizon to the north was the only hint of the next storm brewing.

They set down and Ben jumped out, swinging her into his arms and striding to the house. Within minutes, Ben had Jennifer seated with her foot elevated and ice packs around it, he had placed a call to Zeb and built fires. He needed a shave and shower and he was hungry again, but he was paying for every second he had the chopper and he couldn’t afford to wait. He rummaged in a closet and found crutches for her. As he pulled his coat on again, he faced her.

“Unless we run into trouble, I’ll be back by midafternoon. You may get a call from my father, but I don’t think anyone can pick you up unless he sends a chopper.” His gaze ran over her ripped slacks and the green sweater. “I can’t get to a store to get you other clothes, but you’re welcome to my shirts or sweaters. They’re in the bottom dresser drawer.”

“Thanks.” She nodded, using one crutch to follow him to the door. He paused as he looked down at her, thinking it seemed natural to have her in his house. He brushed a quick kiss on her forehead and strode outside.

Jennifer stood in the doorway, feeling the cold and watching the husky bound after the tall man. She felt as if Ben Falcon were her world, her family. Aware of a dull ache, she rubbed her hand across her head, gingerly touching the knot that was going down now.

Two men and a horse-drawn wagon had loaded square bales of hay into the chopper. Ben swung up into the chopper followed by another man, while the third one climbed into the wagon and turned toward the barn. In seconds the helicopter lifted and swooped out of sight.

She closed the door and then stood in the rustic kitchen, gazing at pine cabinets, fishing poles in the corner, the fire dancing on the hearth. The house was masculine and comfortable.

She hobbled into the living area, crossing to look at shelves with worn books— fiction and nonfiction, technical books on oil. She rubbed her head again, wishing memory would return, unable to believe that she could work for the monster Ben described. She moved closer to the shelves and a book caught her attention. The jacket was torn on a copy of Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With The Wind, and Jennifer could remember lying on a rumpled fold-out bed and reading the novel. She remembered a crowded room with the Hide-A-Bed, the small house. Elation raced through her and she rubbed her head, straining to remember more, but nothing came. She replaced the book on the shelf, lightly touching it, wondering about the book’s owner who seemed tough and so much an outdoorsman, yet who must like to read, as well.

Jennifer hobbled around the room to a table at one end of the sofa. She picked up a picture of a dark-skinned, dark-eyed young boy with black hair. His features didn’t resemble Ben’s and she wondered who he was.

Her gaze shifted to the phone and she almost dreaded hearing from Texas until she could remember everything. Right now she had to accept whatever people told her. She heard scratching at the door and limped across the room to open it. The husky trotted inside, leaving tiny puddles where his wet paws tracked as he passed her, going to his dog dish in the kitchen.

“Fella, you could at least wipe your paws before you come in.”

* * *

By noon the sun was behind clouds and a howling wind was blowing over the mountain. Ben swung the hatchet and broke ice on the wide metal tank so the horses could drink. When he finished his task he climbed inside the Jeep. At the barn Zeb came striding into sight, waving his arm and Ben waited.

“Boss, I got a call from Derek. Their electricity is out and their generator is acting up.”

“I’m on my way. Call and tell him, will you?”

“You’re going to get caught in the storm.”

“I’ll call if I need help.”

“What about the woman?” Zeb asked, glancing toward the house.

“She’ll be all right. Zeb, I think Weston sent her.”

The short, wiry man frowned, rubbing his thin red nose with a gloved hand. “She doesn’t remember anything?”

“Not yet, but she told me she had to find Ben Falcon. There’s only one reason she would be on that errand. I called Weston, so when the storm lets up, he’ll probably send someone for her.”

“We letting them on the place?”

“Sure, as long as all they do is get her and go.”

“Want me to check on her?”

Ben glanced at the house and shook his head. “You don’t need to. She’s not that injured. I’ll be back before long, I hope.” He shifted and drove away, passing the house and heading down the mountain to the highway to drive to the boys’ ranch.

As he passed beneath the iron arch that read Bar-B Ranch, he thought about the boys he had met at the ranch, some teens, some tiny little kids. The ranch provided a good home for them and Ben tried to support and help any way he could. Since all the money he made had to be plowed back into the ranch, he gave his time and any expertise he might have. Each spring he gave the ranch a new foal and four calves, and this year he hoped he could do more.

When he slowed behind the rambling structure that was home for the director, his assistant and the cook, as well as a dorm for the boys, Derek Hansen came out. He strode to the Jeep with Renzi trudging at his heels.

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