“You Know I Want You,” Lance Murmured. “You Have To Be The Sexiest Woman I’ve Ever Known.”

“But we want different things,” he continued. “This isn’t a game. We’ll be going our separate ways in a day or two. I don’t want—”

Marcy placed a finger against his lips.

“I know all that. But I don’t want a long-term relationship. I’m not saying I fall into bed with every man who makes me feel special. But you have to admit there is something out of the ordinary between us, and we need to explore what that is before it’s too late.”

Leaning in, she placed a light kiss on his lips. “Please, Lance. Please let us find out if this is really magic. Give me a chance.”

The fire crackled as the sparks he’d tried to bury ignited. Thin lines he’d drawn began to combust and his resolve blew away like a puff of smoke.

Dear Reader,

As expected, Silhouette Desire has loads of passionate, powerful and provocative love stories for you this month. Our DYNASTIES: THE DANFORTHS continuity is winding to a close with the penultimate title, Terms of Surrender, by Shirley Rogers. A long-lost Danforth heir may just have been found—and heavens, is this prominent family in for a big surprise! And talk about steamy secrets, Peggy Moreland is back with Sins of a Tanner, a stellar finale to her series THE TANNERS OF TEXAS.

If it’s scandalous behavior you’re looking for, look no farther than For Services Rendered by Anne Marie Winston. This MANTALK book—the series that offers stories strictly from the hero’s point of view—has a fabulous hero who does the heroine a very special favor. Hmmmm. And Alexandra Sellers is back in Desire with a fresh installment of her SONS OF THE DESERT series. Sheikh’s Castaway will give you plenty of sweet (and naughty) dreams.

Even more shocking situations pop up in Linda Conrad’s sensual Between Strangers. Imagine if you were stuck on the side of the road during a blizzard and a sexy cowboy offered you shelter from the storm…. (Hello, are you still with me?) Rounding out the month is Margaret Allison’s Principles and Pleasures, a daring romp between a workaholic heroine and a man she doesn’t know is actually her archenemy.

So settle in for some sensual, scandalous love stories…and enjoy every moment!

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Between Strangers
Linda Conrad

MILLS & BOON

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LINDA CONRAD

Born in Brazil to a commercial pilot and his wife, Linda Conrad was raised in south Florida and has been a dreamer and storyteller for as long as she can remember. After her mother’s death a few years ago, she moved from her then-home in Texas to Southern California and gave up her previous life as a stockbroker to rededicate herself to her first love—writing.

Linda and her husband, along with a Siamese-mix cat named Sam, recently moved back to south Florida. She’s been writing contemporary romances for about five years and loves sharing them with readers. She enjoys growing roses, reading cozy mysteries and sexy romances and driving her little convertible in the sunshine. But most important, Linda loves learning about—and living with—passion.

It makes Linda’s day to hear from readers. Visit with her at www.LindaConrad.com.

To Alice Zyne, who’s become the mother of my heart.

Thanks for taking me into the family and for believing in me!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

One

Unbelievable. It looked as if driving the next twenty miles to the State Line Truckstop was going to take more than three hours.

Or rather, it would take that long if he didn’t get stuck in a snowdrift, and if the state police hadn’t closed all the side roads the same way they’d done with the interstate.

Lance White Eagle Steele jacked up the heater in his newly purchased four-wheel-drive SUV, wishing for a thermos of hot coffee. He’d been so sure this two-lane road would be a good shortcut, getting him around a major section of snow-closed interstate high way. It had never occurred to him that it might take six times longer to navigate the icy backcountry roads through what had turned into a blinding blizzard.

Well, at least he was on his way home. Thinking of the ranch and the warmth of the people waiting there for his return, he realized that another few hours or an extra day wouldn’t matter much. He would still be able to make it back to Montana in time for the annual Christmas Eve party.

For a few frustrating moments back there at O’Hare, Lance had worried that he would be forced to miss Christmas on the ranch altogether. His bad timing was perfect. He’d come in from New Orleans and planned to make a connecting flight to Great Falls. Only, just as he’d arrived, all flights had been canceled due to the midwinter snowstorm.

The bad news hadn’t stopped there. The entire upper Midwest was socked in and, according to weather forecasts, flights might continue to be delayed for days. Three waves of low-pressure systems were chasing each other, barreling across the skies and burying the Great Plains in mountains of snow.

The crowds at O’Hare had begun to bed down on the floors, expecting to be stuck there for some time. But Lance had been determined to get home for that party.

Patting his leather winter jacket at a spot above his breast pocket, he was heartened by the solid feel of the ring box he carried. Everything would be okay. He just knew it. Soon his whole life would be headed down the right course, just as he was now headed down the right roads to get himself home.

It had been a fairly simple matter to convince the rental car agent to sell him a slightly used SUV so he could get out of the overcrowded airport and be on his way home. Good references and a really high credit line on his card worked wonders toward convincing the man that his paperwork for the sale could be faxed the week after next when government offices reopened after the holidays.

Lance squinted out the windshield as the snowfall worsened, blocking his view of the poorly lit road ahead. He turned on the wipers, rubbed at the foggy glass and did his best. This was turning out to be one of the worst snowstorms he’d ever seen. And in ten years of traveling the rodeo circuits throughout the American West, he’d seen quite a few.

Using the edge of his hand, he swiped another path across the inside of the fogged glass in front of him. The defroster and heater were working overtime, and Lance gave a silent prayer of thanks for being inside and warm instead of out there in the bitter December wind.

He cleared enough of a spot to see just in time…giving him a last second opportunity to swerve and avoid hitting a bulky dark shape at the side of the road.

“Damn,” he grumbled while he guided his wheels toward the other lane.

As his car skidded past, the dark form became a human being hunched against the wind and carrying an oversize load wrapped in a blanket. Checking his rearview mirror, Lance spotted the outlined shadow of a car at the side of the road a few yards back and figured the guy must have broken down.

Poor bastard would soon freeze to death out here. Talk about bad luck. Lance had been driving these back roads for six hours now and hadn’t run into a single soul who was stupid enough to be out in such a blizzard.

As much as he needed to keep going, Lance certainly couldn’t leave a fellow traveler stranded on a deserted country road in this weather. During emergencies, people had to stick together for survival. If he’d been stuck, he would hope someone would have stopped to help.

Lance was pretty handy at car repairs, maybe he could help the guy get his car going. And maybe it wouldn’t take too long for him to be on his way home again.

Stopping in the road, but leaving the engine running, Lance opened the car door and stepped out onto the highway. A strong gust of Arctic wind blasted him as ice crunched under his boots. He hung on to his Stetson and tried to peer through the blowing snow while he fought his way back to the stranded motorist.

Through the haze of snow flurries and sleet, he managed a clearer glimpse of the person coming toward him. Lance was stunned to realize it was a woman.

Her head was covered by a thin scarf made of some drab-colored material. And she was burdened down with an oversize bundle that she’d covered with an old army blanket.

She came closer and after another second he finally caught his first glimpse of her eyes. They were light brown and a little overly bright in the low light of the snowstorm. Her face was thin and her lips were pursed with the effort to breathe.

Her clothes were covered with snow and getting wetter by the minute. While her face was devoid of makeup, her skin was smooth and what hair he could see looked like a fine golden halo around her face. She looked like an angel in distress.

The woman must be totally insane to be out here alone in this storm. Or maybe she was on drugs. He figured he’d better watch his step with her.

“What’s wrong with your car?” he yelled over the howling wind.

She was still breathing hard from the exertion of walking against the wind while carrying the heavy-looking bundle. Her every gasp was outlined in the crystallized air.

“I’m afraid it’s done for,” she wheezed. “I know there’s plenty of gas, and I just had the battery charged at a gas station in Minneapolis. But it stopped dead in the middle of the road. And after I coasted to the side, the engine refused to turn over again. Nothing happens when I crank the key. Absolutely nothing.”

“Get in my car before you freeze to death out here,” he shouted. “I’ll take a look at it. Give me your keys.”

As she came nearer, the woman’s eyes became wary, hesitant. “I have…” she gulped as she handed over the car keys and held up her burden.

Heaven help her, he muttered under his breath. Whatever she had with her wasn’t worth her life. Why didn’t she just set the thing down somewhere and come back for it later?

He skated back to the SUV he’d left idling in the middle of the deserted road and ripped open the back door. “Throw it in the back seat and get the hell inside now!”

She tossed him a quick, glaring look and shook her head. “I have to keep her close to my body until she warms up some.” As she unwrapped a tiny edge of the blanket to show him, he saw the top of a woolly baby’s cap that was almost covering curly blond hair.

Lance nearly lost his footing altogether as he raced to help the woman get herself and her child into the front seat by the heater. Whatever in the world would possess a woman to take a kid out in such a storm?

Though a little frightened and somewhat hesitant to accept help from a complete stranger, Marcy Griffin had no choice but to climb into the front seat of the cowboy’s SUV. Another fifteen minutes in this cold and the baby might’ve gotten chilled through and be on her way to pneumonia.

It was a terrible decision to have to make: risk getting involved with a stranger who could be a crazed maniac, or take a chance on the life and health of her precious daughter. Actually, there hadn’t been much of a choice.

The man wearing the cowboy hat had shut the car doors to keep the interior warm and then headed back through the storm to look at her car. Marcy looked down at the child in her arms and found that her baby was still sleeping soundly.

It would be just as well if Angie slept right through this ordeal. Marcy knew her child was hungry, cold and tired, and she wished with all her might that things could be different, for her daughter’s sake.

But at least the two of them were still alive. And one way or another, they were headed toward a better life. That was the most important thing right now.

Ten minutes later, just as Marcy was beginning to feel her fingers and toes again, the cowboy opened the rear passenger door and began installing Angie’s car seat.

“You were right,” he told her. “Your car is a goner. I think you must’ve cracked the block.”

“If we’re going to ride with you, can you get Angie’s things out of my trunk, please?”

“Things?”

“Diapers, baby food, bottles…” Marcy couldn’t see his expression under the brim of the hat, but she imagined he was scowling at his bad luck, stopping for such high-maintenance passengers.

“I’ll get them moved over,” he muttered. “You make sure the baby’s seat is secure and get her loaded in. I’ll be right back.”

She scrambled out and made short work of getting Angie buckled into her seat. Angie shifted around and nestled down in the familiar form-fitting cocoon but never opened her eyes. She’d been so quiet for so long that Marcy put her cheek against the child’s forehead, hoping to find that nothing was seriously wrong with her. Thankfully, Angie’s temperature seemed fine.

There was no third seat in the SUV and it didn’t take the cowboy long to fill up the cargo space with their things. Once they were all buckled in and cautiously on their way, Marcy closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanks for their rescue.

Peeking out through half-closed lids to check on the stranger who’d picked them up, she decided to thank him for being their hero only when they were safe and sound and she was sure he wasn’t really a serial killer. Marcy studied his profile while he concentrated on the slick road.

What kind of man was this?

He’d pushed the hat back on his forehead so he could get a better view out the windshield. She remembered thinking how tall and broad-shouldered he was as they’d been standing out on the side of the road.

Now she could see that he was also powerfully built. He had what could only be described as a commanding presence. Just by breathing, he seemed to suck up all the oxygen and space surrounding his body, and Marcy could imagine him as a leader of troops. A man others would respect.

Thank heaven. Perhaps they would all get out of this storm safely.

Looking closer, she noted the jet-black, slightly too long hair under his gray cowboy hat…and quickly scanned the rugged angles and jutting jawline of his face. The lighting wasn’t very good, but his bronzed skin, high cheekbones and Roman nose all looked Native American.

Which was why the first thing out of his mouth surprised her so much.

“The name’s Lance Steele,” he said without looking directly at her. “What’ll I call you?”

“Oh, please excuse me. Things have been so…” She caught herself and began again. “My name’s Marcy Griffin. And my baby is Angelina…. ‘Angie’ most of the time unless I’m frustrated and trying to get her attention.” In her daughter’s entire nine months of life, Marcy hadn’t come that close to apologizing for simply being alive—the way she would’ve done in her best-forgotten past.

She had no intention of ever allowing herself to become such a wimp again.

The corner of his mouth cracked slightly but not enough to actually call it a smile. “Is the kid…Angie…okay? She’s not sick, is she?”

“She’s fine. It’s just been a long, hard day for her.”

“Where are you two headed? And what the devil were you thinking to bring a child out in a—” He screwed up his mouth and looked as if he was about to spew a raft of curse words at her.

After he breathed deeply and rolled his shoulders for a second or two, he seemed a little more in control. “Sorry. But you two should be someplace dry and warm right now. Not out becoming stranded in one of the worst blizzards in history. Where’s your husband? What will he have to say when he finds out how much danger you two were in?”

The flash of a reminder about Mike made her forget to be careful and thoughtful before she answered the questions of a cowboy who had yet to completely prove he wasn’t a maniac. “If my ex-husband cared one way or the other about being a father in the first place…or if he’d ever bothered to meet the baby he helped to create…I’m sure he would have nothing good to say about anything I did.”

She folded her arms across her chest and stared out at the inhospitable landscape. Well, that little speech was more than she’d said to anyone in months. And it had been much more venomous than was strictly necessary. She had better find a less combative way to get to know their rescuer.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh. “I realize you don’t know anything about my divorce. Angie and I are on our own. I’m trying to get to a new job. It’s really a great opportunity. But we have to be there by the first of January. I thought we had lots of time, but…”

“How far away is this new job?” he interrupted.

“Not that far, under normal circumstances. Cheyenne…in Wyoming.”

“Yeah, I know where it is. I’ve spent a lot of time in Cheyenne.”

“Is that your home? You aren’t headed there now, are you?”

The slight shake of his head was almost imperceptible. “Nope. I’m headed for a ranch outside Great Falls. That’s my home.”

He’d said the word home with such obvious reverence, she just knew some lucky woman must be waiting there for his return. Marcy didn’t think she’d better question him any further right now, however, especially on the subject of who he was fighting his way home to see.

Out of nowhere, a loud cracking sound split through the piercing noise of the howling winds. Lance slowly put his foot on the brake and the SUV came to a sliding stop…within a foot of a huge pine tree that had landed across the road directly in their path.

Both of them sat in stunned silence, looking out the windshield at nothing but pine needles and bark in every direction. There was total quiet for what seemed like a half hour, but it was probably only a few seconds.

“Stay put. I’ll go move it out of the way,” Lance growled.

“Is it the whole tree?”

He shook his head in frustration. “It’s just a damned big branch. I’ll handle it.” He got out and slammed the door behind him.

He knew he shouldn’t take his frustrations out on a perfect stranger. None of this was her fault. Whether she was in the SUV or not hadn’t caused the wind to take off the biggest branch he’d ever seen and lay it end to end blocking the road.

Okay, so there was nothing he’d like better than to never have seen her and her baby standing by the roadside in the first place. He had a timetable of his own and no time to deal with someone else’s problems.

But that little outburst of hers about the no-good scum of a husband abandoning them both before the baby was even born had made him furious. He’d known plenty of bums like that from his rodeo days. Men who would play around with women and then disappear when things got serious.

But knowing about it didn’t make hearing the truth from the woman’s side any easier. It was despicable. The thought of having a family right in the palm of your hand and casually tossing it aside rather than cherishing every minute made him angry and itching to hit something.

Nothing on earth would make him abandon these two to the storm. He didn’t know why he’d been hapless enough to be saddled with them, but it looked as if fate had stepped in yet again and changed his plans. At the very least, he would take them to a truck stop and make sure they were safe.

Pulling his hat lower and hunching down inside his jacket, Lance stepped out of the warmth of the running car and into a polar blast of Arctic air. The temperature must’ve dropped twenty degrees in the past hour.

He tried not to breathe too deeply in the sharp raw cold, knowing all too well how his lungs would burn if he did. A man couldn’t be a wrangler on a ranch in northern Montana without being fully aware of all the dangers lurking in the long, hard winters there.

By the time he made it around the hood through the blinding, blowing snow to the downed tree branch, he felt the bone-chilling cold penetrating all the way down to his internal organs. He quickly discovered that the pine branch was lying across the entire two lanes, making it impossible for the SUV to go around. The limb was thick, full of bushy needles and loaded with heavy snow.

There was nothing to do but drag it out of the way. But two major tugs against the full weight of the branch told him moving it by hand was out of the question. Man, what he’d give for a cross-cut saw just about now.

“Can I help?” Marcy’s question grabbed his attention.

“I told you to stay put,” he yelled against the wind. “The temperature out here has dropped beyond dangerous. Get back in the car.”

“You’ll never move anything that heavy by yourself,” she said, ignoring his question in a voice raised above the roar of the storm. “Can we use the SUV to push it out of the way?”

“No.” But her question gave him an idea.

Before buying the SUV, when he’d been checking out the compartment that held the spare tire, he was a little surprised to find jumper cables, a fold-up metal shovel, a cable-size rope and a thick blanket all stuffed in around the spare. The rental agent told him it was standard procedure to keep emergency supplies like those in every car they rented out during the dead of winter.

“That’ll have to work,” he grumbled to himself as he stomped to the cargo compartment of the SUV.

By the time he’d retrieved the rope from the compartment, Marcy was beside him again. “What’re you going to do?”

“We can’t push it out of the way. But maybe we can pull it aside far enough to drive around,” he told her.

Like most newer cars and trucks, this one didn’t have decent steel bumpers. But it did have a heavy-duty hitch installed to the frame under the rear bumper.

Lance glanced over at Marcy and caught the shiver that pulsed through her body. She wasn’t dressed warmly enough for this kind of weather. That coat of hers was worn out.

There was no question which of them would do what. “Do you think you can turn the SUV around so that it’s headed in the other direction? I’ll attach the rope and make sure it’ll hold.”

“Yes…yes, of course…” she stuttered.

When she was safely in the driver’s seat, he finally relaxed his shoulders. At least her feet wouldn’t be subject to frostbite while inside the warm vehicle.

He stepped aside and guided her by hand movements to a point he figured would be the best for moving the branch. After he’d made sure the rope was securely tied to both tree and SUV, he waved her ahead. She cracked the driver’s-side window to hear him over the wind.

She tried to inch ahead but the wheels were spinning against the icy patches and the building snow crystals. She couldn’t manage to get any traction.

“Let me try it,” he hollered.

Instead of scooting over the center console, Marcy hopped out of the driver’s door and started around the hood to the passenger side. She raised her hands to cover her mouth against the biting cold, and he got his first good look at her gloves.

Or her utter lack of adequate gloves would be a truer description of what he’d seen as she dashed past. He had originally thought she’d been wearing woolen mittens. Now he was shocked to see holes where her fingers poked through the thin material. She would have frostbite for sure.

Marcy climbed inside through the other door, and he slid into the driver’s seat. It didn’t take him but five more minutes to rock the SUV ahead, dragging the branch out of one lane. Two more minutes and the rope was untied and crammed back in the compartment with the spare. Then he successfully managed to turn the SUV once again so they could be on their way.

He eased the SUV down the road past the bulk of the tree. Once they were clear, he slowed and put it in Park.

Turning to face her, he tried to remain calm as he said, “Marcy, give me your hands.”

“What?” She swiveled and blinked at his odd demand.

Holding his own hands out, palms up, he cocked his head and waited.

She tentatively started to lay her hands in his, but looked wary and confused. It was all he could do not to break down and beg her to quickly do as he’d asked. He didn’t want to scare her, but this was too important.

Two

Marcy hadn’t realized how difficult it might be to give up control and let Lance take her hands. She should’ve known. After all, it had been more than eighteen months since she’d let a man so much as touch her.

When she glanced up to check the sincerity in his midnight-black eyes, her breath caught in her throat. Was that an erotic spark she saw in those eyes? Marcy had to fight within herself to ignore it and the powerful electric current she’d felt.

Eventually she surrendered her hands to him and stared blankly at where they were joined. The contrast between the golden skin of the back of his hands and the stark whiteness of her fingers drew her entire focus.

Lance studied their hands, too, his face contorted in a scowl. “We need to get these wet things off you in a hurry.”

“Huh?” That shocking sizzle of sensual awareness she’d just felt had obviously turned her into an idiot.

He didn’t wait for her to come to her senses. Tearing off her gloves, he dropped them in front of the heater. But he still didn’t let go of her hands.

Wonderful. Now the jolts of electricity were shooting clear up her arms and down her spine, making her overly warm and hypersensitive to every tiny touch. And here she’d thought her fingers were numbed by the cold.

She managed to keep herself from pulling away. Not that she really wanted to. Never in her life had a man’s touch affected her so strongly. Her mind froze at the same time her body heated.

But Lance’s next move stirred the blood clear to her toes and drove her totally past common sense. He tenderly lifted her hands to his mouth and lightly blew a warm breath across her fingers and palms.

Fire raced from her hands up through her veins, landing with a roar in her belly. Suddenly panicked by the intimate movements and by a fever that was driving her to madness, Marcy shuddered and tugged hard against his grip.

Either her frantic jerking or her audible gasps must’ve broken through Lance’s intense concentration. “Don’t pull away. Let me warm you up.”

The tone of his voice sounded more erotic to her than his words. She was already burning up simply from his touch.

“I’m concerned about frostbite,” he advised sternly.

Marcy couldn’t keep looking into his eyes. The intimacy was too much for her to take.

“I’m okay,” she told him as she began rubbing her hands together to get the circulation back.

“Don’t rub your hands that way.” He reached for her hands again. “Rubbing is one of the worst things you can do for frostbite.”

When their fingers touched once more, he stopped talking and she heard his sudden intake of breath. She wondered if the lightning bolt of sensation she’d felt had seared him as deeply as it had her.

She found herself looking down and away from their joined hands. Anywhere but back into his eyes.

After a too-long second of uncomfortable silence, he finally placed her hands next to the heater’s fan and then let her go. “Keep your fingers in front of the blower. They may start to ache but they’ll thaw more slowly that way.”

Lance sat back in his seat and put the SUV into gear. “I think we should make it to a truck stop in about an hour.” His voice was rough and dry. “That is, if we don’t have any more emergency roadblocks to get around.”

Neither of them said anything more as quiet filled the SUV, and all that could be heard was the blower on the heater’s fan and the rumble of the engine as the SUV strained against the icy winds and slick roads.

Marcy couldn’t find enough of her voice to say anything at all. She sat stunned in silence for long minutes, trying to figure out what had just happened between them.

Her brain slowly came back around to focusing on her surroundings at the exact moment she heard Angie begin to stir in the back seat. Relieved and grateful, she figured that her baby would be a good distraction to take her mind off the odd reaction she’d had to Lance’s touch. Marcy unbuckled the seat belt and twisted around on her knees to check the little girl.

“What’s the matter with your baby?” he asked. “Is she all right?”

“She’s just waking up, but I’m betting she’ll soon be loudly voicing her complaints.”

“Complaints?”

Angie opened her eyes, and Marcy decided to slide past the center console to go between the two front seats in order to reach her. The familiar sounds of the baby’s “I’m wet and hungry” cries told her that it was indeed time for a change.

“Whoa,” Lance bellowed over the din created by Angie’s screams and the fierce sounds of the blowing winds. “Should I stop?”

“We’re barely moving as it is,” Marcy told him. “I trust you. Just keep going. I can reach her diaper bag in the back,” she continued. “Just let me change Angie and try giving her the water bottle. I’ll wait to feed her until we can get inside someplace warm.” At least, she hoped Angie could wait a little longer.

Lance concentrated on his driving. Still shaken from his crazy reaction to the touch of her skin and the spark of something he’d seen in her eyes, he now had one more thing about Marcy Griffin that deviled him.

She trusted him to keep them safe. He was frantically searching his memory for any other time when someone had actually trusted him that much. The only thing he could come up with was when Buck pulled him off the rodeo circuit and hired him to be in charge of his ranch’s rodeo stock program. He must’ve trusted him a lot to do that. Right?

Lance had never been able to figure out what made women tick, though. And this one was turning out to be more confusing than any of the others.

Take Buck’s daughter, Lorna, for instance. She was a good friend. Someone who would gladly ride across the Montana countryside with him, and someone he could also take to movies on lonely Saturday nights. Lorna was steady and predictable. And he was sure she would accept his ring. She would make him a good wife.

But never…ever…had he felt the same kind of steamy heat and staggering flood of senses that he’d experienced just by touching Marcy’s hands.

He couldn’t remember any time in those days before he settled down on the ranch—and certainly never with the woman who lived there now—when this intense kind of desire had bypassed his good judgment. With Lorna, he’d wanted to wait until the two of them were at least engaged before they took things past friendship. And he was sure Lorna felt the same way. Letting sex rule a relationship was not a thing he felt comfortable doing with someone who would be his life partner.

So this sudden craving to take a perfect stranger into his arms and kiss her senseless was totally unexpected and absolutely unwanted. Perhaps the life-and-death circumstances they found themselves in were making his normal male reactions to a pretty woman suddenly seem much more powerful.

He decided not to dwell on it too much. The best thing for him to do was to talk to Marcy. Try to make friends with her. Keep things casual. They probably would be together for several more hours at least. By the time he was on his way down the road without her, perhaps the two of them would’ve found they had nothing in common and his libido would’ve settled back in line.

Good plan. Now if only his body would cooperate.

Within fifteen minutes Marcy had quieted her baby and climbed back into the front seat. Lance was beyond tired and hungry. And Marcy looked as if she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in about a week.

“Another half hour and we should be at the truck stop,” he told her. He took his eyes off the road for a second and glanced over to check on her.

She smiled up at him. Actually smiled. It felt as if someone had flipped on a light in a pitch-black room.

The unexpected sizzle of heat and tension made him jerk his head back around to stare through the windshield. He figured it was too dangerous to take his eyes off the road ahead. In more ways than one.

“How come you know the country around here so well?” she asked congenially. “Are you from the area?”

Now, this was better. They could talk for a while. Just as long as he didn’t have to look at her.

“No, ma’am,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve spent most of my adult life following the rodeo circuit. It’s a hectic way of life for a man…traveling from one rodeo town to the next. But after a few years of doing it, a guy gets to know the routes and stops pretty well. And a man can manage to make friends in the places he comes back to year after year.”

“You were in the rodeo? What’d you do there?” Surprise colored the tone of her questions, but she sounded more awed than disgusted.

He never knew what to expect when he mentioned his work. Many people had no idea about what went on at a rodeo. Others felt it was a low-class kind of life. Still others, like the buckle bunnies and camp followers, were too easily impressed by what was really just a job.

“I was a bull rider for the first few years,” he admitted. “Then later I rode the broncs.”

“Cool. That’s awesome. But isn’t it dangerous?”

“I’ve had my share of bruises and broken bones, I guess. But the point is to know when to stop before it takes you down for good.”

“You don’t do it anymore? You quit?”

Is that what he’d done? “I retired from the circuit. I moved on to something better.”

“Back at your ranch in Montana?”

“The ranch isn’t mine. I’m just a hired hand.”

She seemed hesitant to make a comment. “Really?” she finally said in a neutral tone. “What do you do there?”

He didn’t know if Marcy was truly interested, or if she’d even have the foggiest idea of what went into his job. But she was waiting for an answer. And he’d already made the decision that he wanted them to become friends.

So he figured he would just keep talking. “The ranch was always home for a good friend of mine. His family has lived on the land for nearly a hundred years.

“They’ve got a formidable operation there with many different kinds of businesses. Sheep. Cattle. They breed show horses and champion stock bulls, and do lots of other profitable things, as well. My friend’s dad, Buck Stanton, hired me to run the stock contracting end of the business.”

“Stock contracting?”

“Yeah. We supply the livestock to rodeos. Our operation isn’t big enough yet to produce the shows themselves. But we’ll be getting there someday.”

“Your ranch raises the bucking horses and those mean ol’ bulls?”

The question brought an automatic grin. “There’s a bit more to it than that. I acquire bucking stock at auction, study the genetics of breeding good buckers and make sure the stock stays rank by pasturing them far away from humans.

“So far we have a crew of thirty in my division. Vets, chute men, transporters. The whole deal is growing by leaps and bounds.”

“Goodness,” she said with a slight chuckle. “I had no idea so much went into that sort of thing. Have you been doing it very long?”

“Not long,” he told her with a shake of his head.

“I see.”

There was something in the way she said the words that told him she had questions not yet spoken aloud. He just didn’t know what answer to give if she wouldn’t ask the question.

Nothing for him to do but keep talking. Maybe he’d hit on the right answer by accident. Plus…all this talking was helping to keep him alert and was making the time go by quicker.

“But the ranch is definitely my home now,” he told her without a second thought. “It’s great not having to travel all the time.”

“But you’re traveling now. Was this trip for business?”

His thoughts on this trip were still all jumbled in his head. Grief and regret mixed together with a final release of duty and the promise of a brand-new life. He wasn’t sure he could talk about it just yet.

“No,” he grunted. “My grandmother passed away. I felt it was my duty to attend her funeral in New Orleans.”

“Your ‘duty’?” Marcy asked in a quiet voice. “I don’t understand.”

Hell, he’d managed to say the wrong thing after all. He really did not want to talk about this.

“It’s not important,” he said quickly. “What’s important is that I’m headed home. And if I’m lucky, I’ll make it there by Christmas Eve.”

“Does your family celebrate that with special traditions?”

“Didn’t know I had much family left. And now that Grandmother Steele is gone, I guess I’ll never know much about that side of the family.” Now why had he let that slip? Jeez, he was sure saying way too much to a stranger. “I hope to make the Stantons in Montana my family from now on. They’ve done more than give me a job—they’re more like family than just friends and employers.” Again, that was just too much to say. What was the matter with him?

“But you don’t have a wife and kids waiting for you back in Montana?”

Ah. He had a feeling that was the question she’d been wanting to ask. He’d noted over the years that it was a question most women asked when they first met a man.

“No, ma’am. Not as yet. But I’m hopeful that’ll be changing real soon. Now that I’m building a home, I intend to have everything that goes with it.”

“Oh? You’re engaged, then?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. But I expect that Lorna Stanton will consent to marry me when I propose at the family’s traditional Christmas Eve party. So…no, as of this moment, I’m not engaged, either.”

“Did you mean to say that this Lorna is your girlfriend?”

“I suppose you could call her a girlfriend,” he admitted hesitantly. “But I’ve never thought of her that way. We have a lot in common. A marriage between us makes sense. It’s a good solid fit.”

“Hmm. So does she love you? Do you love her?”

“I can’t say that we’ve come that far yet. But I believe the best marriages are the ones where love grows over time. I’m starting a little late in life, but we still should have fifty years or so to learn about love.”

“Wait a minute.” Marcy held up her hand, palm out. “You intend to ask this woman to marry you, but neither of you are in love? Have you two, uh, well, do you know for a fact that you will be compatible…in all areas?”

“If you’re asking about in the bedroom, the answer is no, I don’t know for sure about that part of it. But we respect each other. And that’s all I’ll say on the subject.”

Oh, brother. Marcy could only shake her head. He couldn’t be for real. She knew love was a difficult dream to realize, and this guy didn’t even have the basic steps down yet.

“I kind of hate to ask this,” she began tentatively. “But does Lorna know you intend to propose? Have you two talked about the possibility?”

He seemed to take a moment thinking that one over. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought it would be more romantic that way. Women like that kind of romance, don’t they?”

Marcy bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing aloud. “Some things aren’t meant to be that big a surprise, you know?”

The darkening shadows of late afternoon made the atmosphere around them suddenly seem melancholy. Marcy wished that she knew Lance a little better. He could be heading for a huge fall, and she wanted to be his friend so she could try to keep it from being such a hard landing.

He paid no attention to her attempt to warn him. “I found a wonderful engagement ring on my last evening in New Orleans. It’s an antique and very special. Wait until I tell you the crazy story of how I got it.”

They rounded a bend in the road and Lance smiled. “The story will have to wait. You can’t see it through the snowfall yet, but the truck stop is right up ahead. We’ll be able to get in out of this storm in just a few minutes.”

After the waitress found a high chair for Angie, and Marcy had unbuttoned and removed the baby’s snowsuit, she shrugged off her own coat and slipped into the booth beside her daughter. The place was packed and it had taken thirty minutes to get seated. Truckers, bus drivers, state police and families who’d been on their way to holiday parties, all of them had wound up stuck here waiting out the storm.

“Here’s a couple of menus,” the harried waitress told her. “But we’re not serving everything as usual. The boss wants to conserve so we can make it over the next few days without running out of food.”

“That’s okay,” Marcy said with a shrug. “I have to check with the rest of my party, but I’d imagine we’ll be having whatever you’ve got. And the baby will be fine if you can just bring her some milk.”

“I’ll send the busboy over with a glass for her,” the woman said. “But it may take me a long time to get back here for your order. We’re swamped. Do you mind?”

Marcy shook her head and watched the woman hurry away, disappearing into the crowds of people who were stuffed into every available table, booth and aisle. Marcy reached into her big duffel on the floor and pulled a jar of baby food, some crackers and Angie’s sippy cup up onto the table.

“We’ll be fine, sweetheart,” she murmured to a big-eyed Angie. “It’s warm here and we’re safe. And I’ll think of some way for us to get to Wyoming, don’t you worry.”

Marcy handed Angie a cracker and glanced up to find Lance making his way to their table after filling up his gas tank outside. Oh, Lord. He strode through the crowd like a man who had no trouble negotiating any obstacle. Every feminine eye in the place turned to admire his wide shoulders and the tight butt encased in slim work jeans.

With his hat in his hand and his heavy leather coat slung over one shoulder, she got her first good look at their savior. Rugged. Whoo, baby. Everything about him just screamed male.

His black hair was slicked away from his face, and he’d tied it back with some kind of rawhide string. The bronzed skin against the plaid long-sleeved shirt gave him a great outdoors appearance. A man’s man for sure.

He caught her looking in his direction and focused those sharp ebony eyes on her. His wide nose bent at the bridge and looked as if it had probably been broken somewhere along the line. But it was his full lips that now captured her attention. The corners crooked up with an arrogant twist that made her throat go dry and the sweat bead between her breasts.

He eased into the booth across from her. “Nobody’s been able to get a call out. The circuits are all tied up with the storm. Have you decided what you want to do from here?”

She straightened her shoulders and gulped back the nervous energy his very presence seemed to bring out in her. “I was hoping Angie and I could catch a bus to Cheyenne. Even if we’re stuck here for a couple of days, a bus should get us from here to Wyoming before the first of January.”

Lance shook his head. “I just talked to one of the state troopers. They’re considering keeping the roads closed in both directions for the rest of the week. How important is it that you get to Cheyenne on time?”

Blinking her eyes in a short silent prayer, Marcy decided she would be perfectly honest with him. “Staying here for a couple of days and then buying bus tickets will take every dime I have. That job is my last hope, and it won’t be available past the first.”

He grimaced. “Unless you’re exaggerating your circumstances, you’d better think of something else real quick. Because I’d say your chances of getting out of here in time have just gone from slim to none.”

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