Nothing is as lethal as an Ivy in the winter.

Letting a stranger into her secluded home in the wilderness may be loner Savanna Ivy’s biggest mistake. But tall, sexy Korbin Maguire was stranded in a blizzard, and Savanna can’t resist his charm despite his shady past and secretive manner.

A stunning, independent artist from a famous Hollywood family, Savanna has always fallen for—then been hurt by—bad boys. And Korbin is definitely a bad boy…albeit an innocent one. Framed for two murders, he has a gunman in hot pursuit and a sizzling passion for Savanna. But can she exonerate Korbin before it’s too late?

“You’d be a bad fit for city life,” Korbin said. “You wouldn’t have time for all your interests.”

Savanna shook her head. “No.”

But he sensed she’d rather share it with someone. “Do you ever plan to have kids?”

“I’m too much of a kid myself,” she said. “No. I’m not a kid person.”

He could see that about her. “Me, either.”

Seeing the same in him, her eyes batted and lowered.

Korbin stepped closer. Something deep in him warned to resist this, but desire overruled. When he pulled her to him, she put her hands on his chest and looked up, startled.

He didn’t give her time to react. Didn’t give himself time to think. Just kissed her. Soft at first. Gentle. Warm.

Then the fevered kiss compelled him to wrap both his arms around her. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Slowly, with unease building, he pulled back. She’d felt exactly the way he’d imagined...and more. So much more that foreboding crept into his unease. This couldn’t be right.

***

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the fourth addition to the Ivy Avengers miniseries. This is Savanna Ivy’s story. I’m really enjoying writing about this family. Savanna is the most reclusive of them all, living near Colorado’s stunning and beautiful Wolf Creek Pass, but trouble finds its way to her door anyway!

I’ve been watching a lot of crime shows on TV. My favorites are the reality shows, the true stories of how people try to get away with murder. We only see the stories about the murders that are solved. Just think about how many killers get away with their crimes. It inspired me to write about a man who is set up for murder. He’s my hero, so naturally we get a happy ending!

Thanks for reading my miniseries. May you enjoy many more.

Jennifer Morey

The Eligible

Suspect

Jennifer Morey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A two-time 2009 RITA® Award nominee and a Golden Quill winner for Best First Book for The Secret Soldier, JENNIFER MOREY writes contemporary romance and romantic suspense. Project manager par jour, she works for the space systems segment of a satellite imagery and information company. She lives in sunny Denver, Colorado. She can be reached through her website, jennifermorey.com, and on Facebook.

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Mom is overdue for another dedication.

For you, Mom! Wish you were here.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Each step closer to the Laughing Grass Pizzeria hammered a dark sense of foreboding in deeper. Korbin Maguire took the stairs down to the basement of the old redbrick building, certain his life was about to take a big turn. A man who took charge of his own destiny, he’d steer it in a direction he chose, but there was something else at play, and it would begin to reveal itself here, today, at this restaurant.

Under a high, ornately carved white ceiling, people filled worn wood tables, and conversation echoed in the cavernous room. It smelled like pizza, not marijuana. The latter was reserved for a fee in a private room, since it wasn’t legal to smoke in public. Korbin didn’t smoke the stuff but most of the people he knew did, and this was their favorite hangout.

Spotting Collette Hamilton, he headed over to her. A bleach-blonde with heavy makeup and surgically enhanced breasts, she was borderline trashy but a nice girl nonetheless. It wasn’t her fault she had parents who weren’t around for her and didn’t teach her how to survive anywhere but on the street. She was a woman on the brink of spending her life in and out of the judicial system. And, he’d realized recently, so was he if he didn’t make some drastic changes.

Collette didn’t even smile when he sat across from her. She’d sounded frantic on the phone when she’d asked him to meet her here, which was why he’d come. He had an idea what this was about.

“Where’s Damen?” he asked.

“Not here.” She sounded glad.

Was Damen the reason she’d asked to meet? He wouldn’t be surprised. Damen’s behavior as of late had raised his brow more than once. But why call him?

She’d never shown any indication of interest in him, and he wasn’t interested in any other man’s woman. They’d developed a friendship over the last year. She’d helped him through a rough spot and she talked to him about Damen sometimes. On the hardened side for a woman, a little easy and not very smart, she wasn’t his type. But she had a good heart and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, least of all Damen.

“You two having trouble?” he asked.

“He told me that you turned him down on the offer to work a new job,” she said.

She hadn’t answered his question, but that must have something to do with why she was here. Korbin was always careful about how, when and if he broke the law. He also had a tough reputation to back up his freedom of choice. No one forced him to do anything. No one messed with him. If he took a job, he took it on his own terms.

A waitress came to the table and Korbin declined to order anything. Collette had ordered a soda.

“Damen told you I turned him down?”

She nodded, almost in awe. “He wasn’t happy about that at all.”

“No, he wasn’t.” He’d yelled and threatened. Korbin had warned him about the threats. He’d only partially listened, which had been the first wake-up call. That meeting had alerted him to what might lie ahead. Trouble. And it was beginning now. With Collette.

“Korbin, you should watch your back.”

“I’m not afraid of Damen.” There was nothing he could do to hurt him. He had no evidence to prove his past cyber crimes. Korbin was always meticulous about covering his tracks.

Collette smiled. “No, you aren’t, are you? But he’s been unpredictable lately. The fact that you turned him down made him furious. I couldn’t even talk to him about it. He started throwing things.”

Damen’s unpredictability was what bothered Korbin, but he was becoming violent? That caused him more concern. Not for himself, but for Collette. “I’m done with that type of work and nothing Damen does will change that. I’m going to find something else to do. Maybe get a real job. Maybe go see my parents.” He’d been a handful to them and they no longer spoke to him. By his sixteenth birthday, he’d hacked into all of their friends’ computers. By the time he graduated from high school, he’d added teachers and employers to the list. In adulthood, his expertise had attracted Damen Ricchetti’s attention. No more. Damen was out of his life now. He couldn’t be a part of his new direction, wherever that led.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Collette said. She pulled back her hair, tucking the strands that had hung over the side of her face. Korbin saw the fresh cut high on her cheek. Then she let her hair fall back down over her face.

Anger boiled to life inside him. “Did he do that to you?”

She nodded, her eyes pooling with tears. “It isn’t the first time. I’ve had black eyes that forced me to stay home until I healed.”

Korbin started to stand. “Where is he?”

“Wait.” Collette grabbed his wrist to stop him. “I just want to get away from him. And I asked you to meet me here today to see if you’d help me.”

He sat back down. She needed help to get away from Damen? “Why can’t you tell him to get lost?” Was she that afraid of him?

“Because he won’t stay lost. He’s threatened me many times that if I break up with him he’ll kill me. He wants me to move in with him, and I can’t do that. I need to get away from here.”

Korbin hadn’t thought in great detail about what he was going to do or where he’d go, if anywhere. He figured he’d start with a trip to see his parents. If they’d see him.

Damen’s saying he’d kill his girlfriend if she broke up with him changed the game. That made him far more dangerous than he’d anticipated and confirmed some suspicions he’d had. But first he’d step in and teach Damen a lesson.

“Of course I’ll help you.” He didn’t have it in him not to. He would never leave her, or anyone, helpless against violence. Damen had abused her. He was going to pay for that.

He should have become a cop.

Collette reached over and put her hand over his. “I know why you’re getting out, Korbin.”

Everyone associated with Damen knew that. But it was too raw to talk about.

“It’s a good decision,” she said in his silence.

Smothering the tide of unwelcome emotion, he asked, “What do you need me to do?”

She half smiled, a pity smile, empathizing but not saying any more on the matter. Slipping her hand from his, she said, “Help me find a place to go. Somewhere Damen won’t find me.”

That wouldn’t be a problem. “All right. I’ll need today to prepare.”

“Okay. Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I’d do it myself but I don’t have the resources you do. Damen would probably catch me before I left town.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “Do you need money? A place to stay?”

“No, I should be okay. I’ll just be happy to have a life free of Damen.”

He’d give her enough to get by for a few months. His parents may not be speaking to him but they hadn’t taken away his trust fund yet. “Be ready to leave in the morning. Meet me back here at eight.” He put some cash down on the table and stood with her, putting his hand on her lower back to guide her toward the stairs. Out on the street, he looked around for any sign of Damen. Not seeing any, he walked with Collette to her car. There, he looked around again and then reached under his shirt for the gun he’d put in the back of his jeans. Foreboding had compelled him to do that. Otherwise he never carried.

“Take this.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Wha—”

“Don’t let him in your house. If he gets violent again, use it to get away from him.”

“But...I can’t kill him!”

“Then aim for his knee. Just get away from him. You only have to make it to tomorrow morning. The goal is to act normal so he doesn’t figure it out. I’m hoping you won’t have to use it. But just in case...”

Collette put the gun into her purse. “Okay. Tomorrow morning.” She seemed worried.

“It will be okay,” he said. Leaning forward, he gave her a hug, one that elicited a comforted sigh from her.

“You’re a good man, Korbin Maguire.” She stepped back with a smile and got into her car.

He closed her door and waved back when she did. She thought he was a good man. He wasn’t, but he was going to be.

* * *

Early the next morning, Korbin woke to his ringing doorbell and pounding on the front door of his home in Lone Tree, Colorado. More pounding suggested urgency. He got up and went to the window of his second-story bedroom, which had a view of the driveway and part of the front entrance. A sedan was in the driveway and two men stood at the door. They wore jackets. Professional. Who were they?

He put on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt and went down to the door. More pounding and ringing grew louder.

“Denver police. Open up!” one of them shouted.

Police? What were they doing here?

Korbin opened the door, leaving the security bar in place.

“Korbin Maguire?” One of the men opened a wallet to show him a badge. He was older than the dark-haired man.

Had something happened to Collette? Real worry for her swelled within him. “Yes.” He released the security bar and opened the door.

“Do you drive a Mercedes AMG Black Series?” the older officer asked.

Why were they asking him about his car? “Rarely. I mostly drive my truck.” He began to wish he hadn’t opened the door so soon. If this was some sort of ruse...

“But you own a Mercedes AMG, correct?”

He hesitated, wondering why they were asking him about his car. “Yes. What’s this all about?”

“Would you step outside, please?”

The two men moved back to give him room. Korbin didn’t see any way out of this. If they were real cops—and they seemed to be—he couldn’t refuse. He stepped outside onto the front porch.

“You’re under arrest for a hit-and-run that resulted in death.”

The younger officer produced a pair of cuffs. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

Did he say death?

Numbly, Korbin turned around as the younger officer handcuffed him. In the street, more police cars appeared, lights flashing.

“I don’t understand,” Korbin said. “I didn’t drive anywhere last night. My car is in the garage.”

The older officer nodded to the one who’d cuffed him. Uniformed policemen gathered in the yard.

All three garage doors opened and Korbin saw the stall where he parked his Mercedes-Benz coupe was empty. His car was gone. Only his dark blue pickup truck was in the next stall over, closest to the inner door.

“Someone stole my car,” Korbin said.

“Come with us. We’ll take your statement at the station.” The younger officer guided him to the backseat of the sedan, reciting his rights as they went.

Had a stranger stolen his car and then run when he’d hit someone? His Mercedes-Benz coupe would be a prize for any car thief. Someone could have broken in and taken it. But how had his security system been breached? Whoever had broken in had experience. Professional experience. That’s where the stranger theory fell apart. Someone had deliberately stolen his car. Someone who knew him.

This had the stink of Damen. Their last conversation filtered into his mind. Damen had accused him of thinking he was better than him and said he’d regret not partnering with him. Collette had reinforced his emotional reaction. It had led to him beating her. And then she’d come to him for help. Had Damen found out? Had she told him? Or had he made her? Korbin hadn’t seen Damen anywhere near the Laughing Grass, but had he followed Collette?

It was possible. And Damen had plenty of experience breaking into buildings. And even more damning, he’d suggested the security system Korbin had installed in his house.

But if Damen had stolen his car, why leave the car at a hit-and-run scene?

All the way to the police station, questions pummeled him. By the time he was led into the interrogation room, he was convinced Damen had set him up. He’d deliberately run someone over and left the car there. His behavior was violent enough to support that assumption.

Korbin stewed with anger as he sat at a gray table in an interrogation room. The entire room was gray. Gray walls. Gray door. He’d have a gray life if he didn’t find a way out of this.

The older officer—the detective who’d been at his door—entered the room.

“What happened?” Korbin asked. “Why am I here?”

He sat across from him. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

“Why was I arrested? You said it was for a hit-and-run.” That resulted in death. “I didn’t run anyone over.”

“Tell me about your day yesterday, Mr. Maguire. Let’s start in the morning. Take me from then all the way until this morning.”

The detective was following protocol and obviously didn’t believe Korbin. Why would he? He must hear all kinds of excuses and lies from people he had to question for crimes.

“I woke up at about eight, made some coffee. Watched some television for a while, and then went to meet a friend at the Laughing Grass Pizzeria.”

“What time was that?”

“Two in the afternoon.”

“What friend did you meet?”

“Collette Hamilton.” He explained that she was worried about Damen hurting her and that they had made plans to meet back at the restaurant this morning, when he’d help her get out of town. He checked the time. He wasn’t going to make it now.

“She came to you for help?”

Did that seem strange? “Yes. We’re friends.”

“Romantic friends?”

“No.”

“Has this Damen Ricchetti been violent with her before?”

“I wasn’t aware of his abuse until she told me yesterday.” But he explained how Damen had been behaving differently, leaving out why.

“Why did she go to you for help? Why did she need your help? I guess I don’t understand why she couldn’t leave on her own.”

“She trusts me. And she’s afraid of Damen.”

“What were you going to do to help her?”

“I found her a place to stay where she’ll be safe for a while.” He didn’t mention the fake ID. “And I’m going to give her some money.”

“She knew you had money?”

He nodded.

“Please respond verbally for the recording.”

“Yes, she knows I have money. Look, I need to get out of here so I can help her.”

The detective stared at him for a long moment. Korbin hoped Collette’s knowledge of him having money would provide enough of a motive for her to come to him for help.

“What do you do, Mr. Maguire?”

“I have a degree in computer science, but I’m not working right now. I have a trust fund.”

The detective nodded, watching him again. “After you left the restaurant...which one did you say it was?”

“The Laughing Grass,” he said. “Pizzeria.”

“Don’t they sell pot there?”

“They don’t sell it, but you can bring your own and smoke it in a private room. As long as you’re a member of their club, it’s legal.”

“Do you smoke pot?”

Was he trying to establish something about his character? “No.”

“Did you smoke some pot yesterday?”

“No.”

Korbin suffered another of the detective’s stares. “Where did you go after you left the restaurant and what time was that?”

“Around three. I went straight home. I did some internet searches on places for Collette. A place to rent. And I withdrew some money for her.”

“So you did go out last night.”

“No. I stopped at my bank on the way home.”

“But you just told me you went straight home.”

“You can check with my bank. I was there shortly after three.” He gave the name of his bank. “After I got some cash for Collette, I went home.”

“And what time did you finish searching the internet?”

“About eleven. Then I went to bed.”

“The hit-and-run occurred at 2:21 a.m. A thirty-year-old man was crossing the street with the walking sign lit. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Someone stole my car,” he said. “And I think it was Damen.” He’d been home and hadn’t heard him break into the garage and drive away with it. Damen was the only person he knew who could do that.

“Can anyone confirm you were home all night?” The detective ignored his claims, the raisin creases of his forehead deepening as he fixed impassive eyes on him.

“No.”

“Has Ms. Hamilton ever filed charges against this Mr. Ricchetti?”

“Not that I’m aware of. She told me he threatened to kill her. She’s afraid of him.”

“And since you’re such a nice guy you agreed to help her?”

Korbin didn’t respond to that, but his fear for Collette’s safety was another matter. “Please. Either let me go so I can check on her, or have someone go check on her for me. Damen might have hurt her.” He should never have let her go back to her house alone. He should have stayed with her and taken her home with him.

“If you’re so worried about her, why didn’t you notify the police after she came to you?”

In Korbin’s line of work, going to the police was never an option. He hadn’t even considered it when he’d met Collette. “I guess I thought she should be the one to do that.” And he hadn’t thought she’d be in too much danger.

The detective sighed and leaned back against the chair. He studied Korbin a while, not believing him.

“Witnesses got your plate number after the hit-and-run. We found the car abandoned not far from the scene.”

“It wasn’t me driving.”

“They described a man who looks like you.”

Damen had dark hair but wasn’t as tall. Three inches shorter.

“Wasn’t it dark at 2:21 in the morning?” Korbin asked.

The detective didn’t respond. He had to realize that would make a difference. No one could positively identify him without any doubt.

Another detective entered the room and motioned for the other to come to him. He did and listened to the man. Korbin couldn’t make out what was being said.

A moment later, the other man left and the detective returned to his seat.

“There’s no evidence of a break-in at your home, Mr. Maguire.” He looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

Korbin had none.

“Your security system is operational. There’s nothing broken. No fingerprints.”

Damen must have found a way inside. Copied a key. Taken a garage door opener. Something.

“Why don’t you tell me what really happened?” the detective said.

“I have. I didn’t kill anyone. My car was stolen and I think it was Damen who did it.”

“Why would he do that?”

He couldn’t say it was because he’d refused an illegal hacker job. “He must have seen me meet with his girlfriend.” That had to be it. Korbin hadn’t looked closely on his way inside. It was only after he’d realized Damen was becoming violent that he’d paid more attention. Damen could have seen him go inside to meet Collette. He may have even sneaked inside. Spied on them.

“And in a jealous rage, stole your car and deliberately ran a stranger over so you’d be charged?”

“Yes. Check the car for evidence that he was in it.” Damen would have worn gloves but maybe there’d be other evidence.

“He’s your friend. He could have been in the car before this.”

“I wasn’t driving the car. It wasn’t me.”

The detective didn’t respond. No one would believe he wasn’t the one driving his car. But the detective began to show signs of doubt. Or maybe he just didn’t have enough on him yet. The evidence hadn’t been fully analyzed. Korbin now had a taste of what it was like to be falsely accused. At all costs, he had to prove his innocence, or Damen would have his way and Korbin would spend time in prison.

* * *

Korbin was released on his own recognizance and was out by late afternoon. He was worried sick about Collette. He took a taxi home to get his phone and saw that she hadn’t called—not even when he hadn’t shown up at the Laughing Grass this morning. She wasn’t answering her phone, either. He tried calling Damen but he didn’t answer. Where was Collette? Was she all right?

Parking his truck outside Collette’s house, he jumped out and jogged to her door, knocking several times and ringing the doorbell. When that produced nothing, he used his tool to unlock the door, looking around to make sure he wasn’t seen. Going inside, he took two steps in, shutting the door behind him, and saw a lamp and some picture frames broken. And on the other side of the couch, Collette lay on the floor. Blood had soaked the carpet beneath her. She’d been shot and it looked like she’d been dead several hours.

“No.” Korbin was light-headed with shock and dismay as he rushed over to her.

He crouched to check for life even though he knew she was gone. Her eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling. Breathing out a harsh breath, Korbin bent his head and swore. How could he have allowed this to happen? How? She’d come to him for help and he’d failed her. Damen had killed her. She’d been afraid of him and he’d killed her.

Standing, he picked up a dining room chair and slammed it down onto the floor with a growl. It broke into pieces. The horror of what Damen had done almost made him pick up another.

His wife’s beautiful face came to him, engulfing him with terrible grief and guilt. He hadn’t saved her, either. She’d died because of his underestimation of Damen. Just like Collette. While ravaging guilt and helplessness gripped him, he vowed to bring Damen to justice.

Returning to Collette’s body, he began to search for evidence, carefully checking the area surrounding her and her clothes, all the while not disturbing any of the crime scene.

The gun...

With that sobering thought, he looked for the weapon. It wasn’t here. He searched the whole house and didn’t find the gun he’d given her.

He went to her computer. She didn’t keep it locked, so he easily clicked his way to her email. Not finding anything there, he went through all of her files. In a folder labeled “Resumes,” he found an email file with the subject “What’s Next?” It was an exchange between Damen and a man he didn’t know. Korbin opened it and realized his luck had finally improved. Collette had forwarded an email exchange from Damen’s machine to hers. She’d cleverly hidden it in the file folder and deleted it from her email program. If Damen had checked, he’d missed it.

Korbin printed a copy, reading the exchange on the screen. A man named Tony wanted to know if Damen had finished putting together a team and Damen had replied with Not yet, but I’m close. The time the email was sent was a few days after Korbin had refused his request. Tony had replied, You promised me a team. If you can’t handle this, I’ll have to make other arrangements. What wasn’t written there was what Tony would do with Damen if he failed him. You’ll have your team, Damen had responded. And the last of the thread was Tony saying, For your sake, I hope so.

With Collette dead, Korbin didn’t have to worry about Damen finding out that she was onto him. What else had she known? What had made her keep this email thread? Korbin wished he could ask her.

Wiping his prints from the mouse and anywhere else he’d touched, he left the house, deliberately leaving the email open on Collette’s computer so that it would be easy for police to find.

Now he had to get somewhere safe to hide, somewhere he could do some research on Tony Bartoszewicz. And figure out a strategy to take Damen down. Before Damen cost him more than he already had.

Chapter 2

“I’m not using my house as a fortress to protect me from men, Mother.” Putting her book down on the table, Savanna Ivy stood up from the cushiony chair in the corner of the loft. Her feet sank into the thick mocha rug as she passed between a love seat and a television atop an antique wood cabinet. A log railing allowed a view of the living room below. She saw through the gabled windows and under exterior lights that it was snowing harder now. Her mother had interrupted a really good book on a stormy evening.

“You went there on purpose,” her mother said.

“I live here.”

“On purpose,” her mother insisted. “Your reclusiveness worries me.”

Camille Ivy didn’t like it when Savanna went into her hermit modes. She couldn’t surprise her with her celebratory family visits. Tucked deep in the woods just south of Wolf Creek Pass, Savanna’s log home was on seventy-five rugged acres in Colorado’s southeastern San Juan Mountains. In winter, she was frequently snowed in.

She went down the open stairs and into her living room, passing a white leather sofa, love seat and chairs with nail-head trim on a mosaic rug in dark green and black. A beautiful alder wood buffet and wine cabinet were behind the sofa and against the wall.

Beside the large gabled window, the black gneiss rock fireplace rose all the way up to an exposed log ceiling. She had a fire going. Soft piano music played from her stereo, stored in a built-in cabinet where a huge television was embedded in the log wall, off for now.

The sun had set an hour ago. It had been snowing all afternoon and the news had forecast another storm the next night, a much more severe storm. A blizzard, they were saying. Savanna couldn’t wait to spend the day cooking and reading.

“You need to talk about it, Savanna,” her mother said in her silence.

“I like living alone, Mom. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m okay. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Another man had broken her heart and she was in the grieving process. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been through this before. It’ll pass.”

“That’s what worries me.” Then her mother sighed. “You and Autumn. You’re both so independent. At least she’s around other people when she travels, and she found herself a decent man.”

That came with a sting Savanna had trouble pushing away. Savanna had thought she’d met two decent men, but they’d turned out to be liars.

After a moment, her mother said, “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

Savanna wished her mother would stop talking. “It just hasn’t worked out for me yet. It is what it is.”

“You bought that mountain home after the first one.”

Savanna didn’t argue. Her mother thought she was hiding here, burying her heartache and protecting herself from any more. Maybe she was. She felt better here than anywhere else. That had to count for something. If her mother preferred to think of her remote mountain house as a fortress, then it was a fortress. The only way in was a long and winding dirt road. Either that or on a snowmobile, or a pair of cross-country skis or snowshoes, or horseback. And when it snowed as it did now, no one was getting in and Savanna wasn’t getting out. She needed this time to herself. Being alone and isolated rejuvenated her.

“You need to get out more. Be with other people. Socialize. It’s not good for you to be pent up in your house with nothing else to do than think.”

“I have plenty to do here. And I’ll come see you in spring.”

“Don’t be a smart-mouth, Savanna Ivy.”

“I’m not. The way it looks outside, it will be spring by the time I get out of here.

In her mother’s long silence, Savanna added, “Do you really think all I’m doing here is obsessing over my ex-boyfriend?”

With that her mother breathed a laugh. “No. Your hobbies are keeping you busy, I’m sure. And you always were a solitary girl. I just hate to see you hurt.”

“I’ll get over that. And I will come and see you this spring.”

“Okay, honey. You’ve managed to somewhat calm me.” And then she asked, “Did you plow your road?”

So her mother could come to visit? Savanna could hear her thinking it.

“No.”

“Are you going to have it plowed?”

“Sometime. When I need to get out of here, I’ll have it plowed.” Until she was ready for visitors, she was grateful for the snow.

“Oh, Savanna.”

Savanna laughed lightly. “Would you like me to host a family gathering here?”

“You know I’d love that, and you also know I prefer spontaneity. But you take your time. Just call me often so I know you’re okay.”

“I will. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too.”

Savanna pressed the off button on her remote phone and stared out the gabled window, entranced by the falling snow. Maybe she’d have her road plowed later this week. One night with her family wouldn’t be so bad. Except for all the questions.

She was about to start dinner when she saw something. Soft lighting reflected on the glass. Leaning closer, she saw headlights shining through the heavy snow. A truck. It wasn’t moving. Who would come to see her during a snowstorm? Were they lost? A vehicle not moving in this weather would put anyone inside in real trouble. If they stayed in the truck and ran out of gas, they’d freeze, and if they tried to walk through the snow, they might not make it to her door without snowshoes. She watched for several more minutes. Whoever was out there was well and truly stuck on her road. There had to be at least two feet on the ground.

Going to the front entry and into a large walk-in closet where she kept every imaginable necessity for navigating snowy terrain, in several varying sizes to accommodate her large family, Savanna geared up in her under-and outerwear and put on some boots. Meeting a stranger or strangers on a remote, snowy road had its risks. She was a single woman all alone in unforgiving wilderness. Stuffing a container of Mace into her pocket, she left the warm coziness of her house and stepped into the fifteen-degree air.

Snow pelted her face as she made her way to the barn. The four-car garage was attached to the house and the heated barn wasn’t far from there. She employed caretakers who did most of the work, but they were off for the weekend. She managed everything on her own when she had to. She preferred it that way so that she’d be self-sufficient whenever she needed to be. Savanna, like most of her siblings, did not depend on others to take care of herself.

Inside the barn, she saddled a big gray Oldenburg stallion named Gandalf. He was built for the rugged terrain of the San Juan Mountains. With sturdy legs and lots of stamina, he was also a beautiful animal, sort of like a giant version of a Friesian. She had a stable full of Oldenburg horses. They were her favorite horse for their strength, versatility and personality.

The horse nickered as she led him outside, eager for the exercise he anticipated.

Climbing onto his eighteen-hand-high back, Savanna gave him a gentle nudge with her heels. The stallion began to walk through the deep snow, occasionally having to leap.

Savanna squinted as the three-quarter-inch snowflakes fell. Every once in a while the wind gusted and she could barely make out the edges of the road. She followed the wood crossbuck fence with copper post caps that ran all the way down the road to the highway. Seeing the truck, she looked for signs of a person. There was too much snow on the truck to tell if anyone was inside.

Gandalf whinnied and tossed his brawny head, tugging at the bit as though eager to run for the new adventure that shone a light on him.

Savanna spotted the figure of a man trying to shovel the tires of his truck free from snow. A lot of good that would do. What did he think he’d do once he dug himself out of the ditch? Drive a few feet and get stuck again? Four-wheel drive or not, this snow was deep enough to stop anyone. She really wasn’t in the mood for company. Putting her annoyance in check, she committed herself to helping someone in need.

He quit working when she neared. At the truck, she halted the big horse. He was a giant of a man. Probably six-four. She amended her earlier assumption. This guy could probably have walked through the deep snow all the way to her house.

“Are you lost?” she asked.

He stepped through the deep snow and stopped next to her. “I made a wrong turn.”

“Where were you headed?” Her neighbor ran a yurt touring company on his ranch. He’d converted his eight bedroom house into a bed-and-breakfast. Maybe he was trying to find it.

“A friend of mine has a cabin near here.”

She looked through the snow at his truck. There was no one else inside. “Who?”

“Julio Chavis.”

The name sounded familiar, but she hesitated. Gandalf stomped his foot and snorted, eager to be moving in the heavy snow.

“It’s his vacation home,” the man said.

Savanna patted Gandalf’s neck as he stomped and snorted again. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

Why would anyone come up here to be alone? Recalling her conversation with her mother, she realized that may not be so unusual. Besides, she knew of a man who owned a cabin two miles up the highway from her road and across from the yurt touring lodge. She’d never met him. He rarely came here; at least that’s what Hurley over at Lost Trail Lodge had told her.

Reluctant to open her home to a stranger, she looked at his truck again, buried to the top of the wheel wells in snow. He wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

“Do you have a plow?” he asked.

Returning her gaze to him with a frown. “No. I hire out for that.”

“When will you hire out to plow it this time?”

He seemed as annoyed as her, wishing she’d have kept her road passable.

“I can have someone out here in the morning.”

He nodded with a grim line to his mouth. He wasn’t keen on being stuck here. He’d rather be at his friend’s cabin. Alone. She could relate to that.

In her silence, he twisted to look back through the falling snow. “It wasn’t as deep through the trees. Should have turned around in there.” He tipped his face up to the sky. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“Common for this area.” She contemplated him some more, Gandalf shifting his feet with another snort. Well, there was nothing else that could be done. “Get your things and climb on. You can stay here for the night.”

“Maybe if I could use your phone.”

And do what? Call a cab? “No one will come out here tonight, not in this storm.”

After a few seconds of internal debate, he went to the truck and retrieved a duffel bag, then turned off the engine and locked the vehicle.

Rather than take her hand, he grabbed the saddle horn and propelled himself up onto the horse’s back behind her.

Gandalf pranced through the snow and then leaped into a trot, his gait smooth and belying the deepening snow.

Turning her head, she asked, “What’s your name?”

“Korbin Maguire,” he answered. He had a deep, gravelly voice that tickled her senses and caught her off guard. “And you are?”

Still grappling with her reaction to him, she squinted against snowflakes and said, “Savanna Ivy.” Had his voice changed because of a similar reaction to her?

“Nice to meet you, Savanna. I’ll thank you in advance for your hospitality.”

He sounded more professional now, as though he’d checked himself. “Well, I couldn’t leave you out here in this storm.”

“I would have hiked up to your house. Would have been a workout, but you wouldn’t have had to ride out in this.”

“Gandalf loves a good ride.” She patted the stallion’s neck.

“He’s a big horse.”

“That’s why I bought him. He’s well suited for these mountains.”

They both had to turn away from a gust of wind that pelted them with snow.

“How long is this storm supposed to last?” he asked.

“At least tonight. Another storm’s headed this way after that. A bigger one.”

They reached the barn.

“Isn’t this one big enough?” Korbin asked as he dismounted.

Savanna climbed off after him and led Gandalf through the corral gate. Korbin closed that while she opened the barn door. When they were all inside, Korbin shut the door. Instant relief from the billowing snow made Savanna sigh. Other horses nickered and snorted and moved in their stalls with the new activity. During the day, their outer doors were opened to individual corrals with enough room to move around.

While she pulled off Gandalf’s saddle, Korbin surveyed the barn. It was a nice barn. Savanna would make no fuss over that. Money had not been a factor when she’d built it. If she was going to have horses in this climate, they would be safe and comfortable.

“Where’s the spa?” Korbin teased, grinning.

And oh, what a hot grin that was. Savanna stopped brushing Gandalf to stare. She had noticed how in-shape he was back on the road, but he’d removed his hat and unzipped his jacket and she could see more of his face. What had begun with the sound of his voice now sparked into a tickling sensation.

This was how she’d fallen for her last two boyfriends. That initial attraction. Masculine, handsome face. Eyes she could melt into. Then letting her guard down. Trusting a little too much.

Snapping out of her trance, she looked around at the other five stalls, heads of varying colors poking out to observe them. Just because he was handsome didn’t mean he was worth exploring. She had to get better at that—not letting her guard down too soon.

Turning back to Gandalf, she finished grooming him, ever aware of Korbin. He’d sensed her reaction, and it wasn’t to his joke about spas. He said no more.

Going to a cabinet at the back of the stable, she reached into a basket of fresh carrots she kept there and took out two. Korbin waited at the stall, watching her feed the horse the treat.

“What do you do?” she asked. If they were going to be spending the night together, they might as well get acquainted.

When he didn’t immediately answer, her wariness sprang up. She looked at him.

“I’m a computer scientist,” he said. “Currently between jobs.”

Why had he hesitated? Had he contemplated lying? Was he lying? Why would he lie about being a computer scientist?

“What kind of job did you have?”

He seemed to think first before he said, “Systems engineering.”

“Were you fired?”

“No. I left. I’m taking a break for a while.”

Why did he feel he needed a break? The same reason he needed to spend time alone in remote wilderness? There was something about him that made her wary, the way he hesitated before answering her, why he was alone up here.

“What about you?” he asked.

She began to understand his earlier hesitation. How much was she willing to reveal about herself to him?

Savanna petted Gandalf’s nose, who had finished his treat and stuck his head out of his stall. His soft nose and the loving blinks of his big brown eyes soothed her. “Nothing right now.” She paused. “I was a motivational speaker, but not anymore.”

“Taking a sabbatical, too?”

Despite his charmed grin, she didn’t respond. That was a topic she did not feel like discussing. She’d only recently decided to stop speaking about positive thinking. And she’d told no one in her family about that. Jazzing others up with positive energy used to give her positive energy, and then she realized this was who she was. A loner. Not the interesting person she personified in front of an audience.

Leaning forward to kiss the soft fur of Gandalf’s nose, she turned and walked for the exit.

Korbin picked up his bag and followed. Back out in the snowstorm, Savanna was aware of his glances as they trekked through the deep snow. Then his attention shifted to the house. Big, golden logs jutted out at the corners, except at one end, where the turret rose like a sentinel. Made of black gneiss like the chimney, the color and texture contrasted beautifully with the logs.

Korbin closed the door behind him, taking in the open walk-in closet filled with winter gear. “You must have been some motivational speaker.”

When would he get the hint that she wasn’t going to talk about that? She hung up her jacket and removed her boots and snow pants. Now down to her base layer, she ignored Korbin’s appreciation of the close-fitting material, a floral-patterned white thermal top and matching tights.

He was in wet jeans.

“Would you like me to dry those?” she asked.

“Sure.”

She looked up at him watching her. “I’ll show you to the guest room.” Turning, she led him into the living room, seeing how he missed no detail. Upstairs, they passed her loft and went down a hallway.

At the first door, across from a full bathroom, she stopped and flipped on the light switch. Lamps on each side of the bed illuminated tan walls and the cushiony white comforter with soft green throw pillows. Sheer drapes hung parted over two windows on each side and a dark square iron decoration in a sun-like shape hung above the bed.

When he nodded his thanks with one more sweep of his gaze over her thermal underwear, she closed the door and went to her master bedroom, this one bigger. Although the walls were the same color, a painting of a mountain meadow in fall hung above a king-size bed covered in reds and yellows, and there was a balcony where she planned to do a lot of reading in the summer. Going into her oversize walk-in closet, she changed into some spandex pants and a flannel shirt. Leaving her room, she passed his still-closed door and went back downstairs to wait for him, unable to explain her sense of foreboding.

In her large kitchen, she went to the phone stand and looked up her neighbor’s number. There was no cell service up here.

Holding the phone to her ear, she walked into the living room while the phone rang a few times. Then Hurley answered.

“It’s Savanna.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” At least, she hoped so. She glanced up to the railing that exposed the loft and hallway and the still-closed guest room door.

“It’s snowing pretty good out there,” he said.

“Yes. A man got stuck on my road. He told me that he was on his way to that cabin across from your lodge. Have you heard anything about that?”

“No. Chavis keeps to himself. I’ve only met him a few times. Why? Are you worried?”

“No.” She relaxed a little. Korbin had said the man’s name was Chavis.

“How did he end up at your place?”

“He took a wrong turn and got stuck on my road. I didn’t have it plowed.”

“I bet you aren’t happy about that.”

Hurley knew her well enough to know she liked her isolation. Most people who lived up here did. They weren’t city folks.

“I’ll manage.” She looked out the gabled window. Heavy snow falling under outdoor lights didn’t have the comfort value it had before she spotted the truck on her road.

“You sure you’re okay? Robert and I can ride over on snowmobiles. You can stay the night here.”

“No.” Savanna felt trapped in other people’s houses, and she’d especially feel that way now. “I’ll be all right.”

“If you’re sure...”

“I’m sure. He’s harmless enough.”

“All right, then. I’ll call Mike and have him out there first thing tomorrow morning to plow your road.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“I’m a phone call away, Savanna.”

She smiled. “I know. Thanks, Hurley.” He was about ten years older than her and married to a sweet woman who cooked with the skill of an executive chef.

Hanging up the phone, she put the handset down on a side table next to the sofa. Straightening, she turned and her body jolted. Korbin stood there. She hadn’t heard him come down the stairs.

He’d changed into a long-sleeved soft-gray henley and distressed denim jeans. His feet were bare. Back up at his face, she was drawn into his ghost-gray eyes. Messy, thick black hair was cut to about an inch and a half, and stubble peppered his jaw. He had an unnerving way about him. More than his size, an eerie mystery shrouded him.

“Feel better now that you’ve checked up on me?” he asked.

Was he insulted? No. She saw that he was teasing her.

“I promise I won’t bite,” he said.

“Okay, but I might.” She smiled but the message was clear. She would bite if he got out of line.

Although he didn’t smile or grin, his eyes showed his humor—or was that shrewdness? “Then we’re both safe.”

She went to the stereo. Shutting that off, she turned on the television. The channel was set to a local station. The news.

Korbin appeared, walking slowly, observing as he had before, missing no detail. He picked up the remote from where she’d set it on a side table.

“Do you mind?” he asked.

She shook her head and he changed the channel to something on the wilderness of China. She sat down on a white leather chair, debating whether she should call Hurley back and ask him to come pick this man up and take him to the lodge.

“What’s a young, beautiful woman like you doing living in the mountains all alone?” He sat on the other leather chair. “What are you? Twenty?”

“Thirty-three. You?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Where do you live?”

“Is this where we get to know each other?” he asked, now with a slight grin.

She didn’t think he was flirting, just keeping it light. “I’ve never had a stranger in my house before.”

“I live in Denver. I bought a house in Montana, but I don’t go there much.”

Two houses? Why Montana? And why didn’t he go there much? “Not married?”

“Not anymore.” His terse answer and the dousing of any sign of humor alerted her to something amiss. With his arms on the rests, he tapped his palm against one in agitation.

She didn’t push him further. She understood the need to avoid those types of subjects. “Are you from Montana?”

“No. I grew up in North Carolina.”

Work must have brought him to Colorado. She suspected the house in Montana had something to do with the woman he’d married.

“Your family lives there?” she asked.

“My parents. I’m an only child.” He looked at the television but she could tell he wasn’t paying attention to the program.

“What’s it like being an only child?” Savanna asked. “I have seven brothers and sisters.”

His brow raised and he whistled, his mood lifting.

“It’s a miracle any of us got any attention growing up.”

“How do families manage with that many kids?” he asked.

Delighted that he didn’t recognize her name, Savanna almost didn’t tell him. “Jackson Ivy is my dad. They managed just fine.”

“Jackson Ivy?”

He seriously did not know her father? Savanna’s jaw dropped open as she gaped at him. “You don’t know who Jackson Ivy is?”

“No. Should I?”

“Well, if you watch any movies you should.” But then again, why should he? Why did anyone have to care about the producer of a movie they watched?

“He’s an actor?”

Savanna started laughing. “No. He’s a movie producer. Did you see The Last Planet?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it. That’s your dad?”

She laughed again, softer now. “Yes.”

“Your parents live in a mansion in California. I caught a documentary about that once.” He stared at her as though she were an alien now.

“Changes the dynamics, doesn’t it?” Although she joked, she was actually quite serious. All of her brothers and sisters dealt with this in one way or another.

He only continued to stare at her.

Savanna began to feel uncomfortable. What was he thinking? That he’d struck gold? If he owned two homes he had to have money. She didn’t know what computer engineers made but it must be decent.

“My dad founded Maguire Mercantile,” he finally said.

Stunned, Savanna stared back at him while the significance of that sank in. Maguire Mercantile was a Fortune 500 company, a well-known leader in ranch and farm supplies, but their Maguire outerwear was popular with anyone. Mountaineers. Skiers. School kids. You name it. They were experts at keeping people warm and dry.

“Wow,” Savanna breathed. “Your dad might be richer than mine.”

His deep laughter made her laugh with him, and then she became aware of other things. His big body relaxed in her white chair, legs open, broad shoulders and strong arms. A giant package of yum right here in her living room.

“Were you dreading telling me who your dad was?” he asked.

“Yes.” She was still smiling.

“I always dread telling women who mine is.”

She related to him on a level that sent her guard up. She felt as though she were sliding down a slippery slope with nothing to grab a hold of.

“Growing up, I felt like Richie Rich. I love my parents and they’re good, loving people, but they’re a couple of rich snobs.”

“You watched the documentary on my parents’ mansion,” Savanna said. “Mine are, too.”

“Yeah, but your mother seemed so down to earth. That’s why I remembered it.”

“She is all about the family. But she isn’t innocent of showing off her wealth. Her parties are embarrassing sometimes.”

He chuckled. “I stopped going to the ones my parents held after I turned eighteen and left for college. I couldn’t stomach seeing them act different than when we were at home together.”

The camaraderie they shared was amazing and began to make her uneasy. “Do you see them often?”

There was that hesitation again. “Not as often as I should.”

Why not? She decided not to ask.

“You?”

She supposed it was only fair that she answer that question. “One of my mother’s favorite pastimes is surprising her children with visits. She usually gathers up as many of the other family members as she can before arriving unannounced with food and beverages. It’s either that or we all meet at the family home in Evergreen. It’s a more central location than the mansion in California.”

“It would be hard for her to surprise you here.”

“One of many amenities of this place.” She met his eyes and couldn’t look away despite the inner warnings ringing in her head.

She stood up. “I was going to make dinner when I saw your headlights.”

“Can I help?”

He must be hungry. “No. Make yourself at home.” She met his eyes a moment longer, wondering if she should have extended that much of a welcoming invitation.

Before going into the kitchen, she glanced once more out the window where the snow piled higher by the hour. How long would this man be stuck here with her? On the surface he appeared to be good and honest. But what secrets would she find he harbored...and why?

Chapter 3

Korbin wandered Savanna’s living room, glad the storm would give him some reprieve from police. The expensive furnishings were homey and inviting rather than a statement of wealth. He still reeled over the revelation of who her father was. Rarely did a woman surprise him the way Savanna did. He’d have never guessed she came from big money, and found it more than a little refreshing. He’d spent his adult life working to remove himself from that lifestyle. Savanna clearly had been successful in doing so. Although she had impeccable taste when it came to her home.

At the gas fireplace, he touched the stone that rose up to the ceiling. Polished smooth, it was a mafic metamorphic rock, probably a hornblende gneiss. When he wasn’t hacking computers, he was a voracious reader, and geology was a hobby of his.

Growing more curious about the woman who’d chosen such a rock, he investigated further, going into a turreted dining area off the living room. Bright outdoor lights illuminated heavy snowfall through the panel of tall windows.

Leaving that, smelling Savanna cooking something on the stove, he saw her standing there, head bent and concentrating on what she was doing. The flannel shirt didn’t cover her rear in those tight spandex pants, and he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her feet were bare in the warm house, toes sinking into the rug before the stove.

As his intrigue mounted, he decided it was best to control where that would lead. Instead of letting male instinct take charge, he walked down a hallway that extended between the kitchen and living room to familiarize himself with the layout of the house in case he needed an escape route. There was a large main bathroom on the left and across from there was a bedroom-size library. Bookshelves filled every wall except where two tall, narrow windows looked out to the front. A closed laptop sat on an old library table, wood chair pushed in underneath. Two brown patterned wing-backed chairs were angled in front of one bookshelf. Korbin checked out a few of the titles, taming the excitement that she loved to read as he did. Savanna had a varied taste in her fiction and had an impressive collection of nonfiction. How to make pottery. History of trains. Ancient civilizations. And several biographies, one featuring her father.

Leaving the library, lest the building interest take him over, he heard something sizzling on the stove and went into the only other room on this level. A wood bench with a pottery wheel on top was in the center of a large sunroom. Solid white French-style windows kept sound and cold outside. There was a double door next to a five-piece sea-grass seating arrangement on one side of the room. Good to know. The other side was a work area. Against the wall was an antique dresser with rows and columns of small drawers and white knobs. It looked like an old card catalog storage cabinet. On top was a metal rack from which a few strands of earrings, necklaces and bracelets hung, some beaded, some with colored and designed glass pendants. Sliding one of the drawers open, he found individual beads. Next to the cabinet was a work desk, with a partially finished necklace with a stone pendant waiting for the next impulse to create.

Savanna made jewelry along with her pottery. And that wasn’t all. Along the far wall, windows ran above a long counter, a sink with a farmhouse faucet and a stove on one end, trays of cooled candles on the other with some work space in between. The cabinets below were left open and the shelves were filled with pots, wax and wicks, oil-based dyes, scents and a variety of jars and bases. A closer look revealed materials to make soap as well.

He turned to go back to the living room and saw Savanna standing at the entrance, long dark red hair in a ponytail and those amazing eyes fringed by thick lashes. Her plump lips and petite, sloping nose made her all the more of a man magnet. She seemed uncertain as to how she felt about him invading her personal space. It sort of dimmed his sparking attraction.

“You have quite a few hobbies,” he said, covering his fascination.

She looked at him a moment longer. “Dinner is ready.”

He followed her back to the kitchen, where she’d set up sturdy paper plates on the kitchen island. She’d already dished out pork chops with sautéed fruit, red onions and banana peppers on top and some kind of salad.

Savanna opened the microwave and brought over a bowl of steaming mashed potatoes. He didn’t care if they were out of a box.

He looked up at her and smiled his thanks.

She smiled back. “I wasn’t expecting company, least of all a hungry man.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be company.” But here was as good of a place to hide as any.

While he piled potatoes onto his plate, she put a glass of water in front of him and sat next to him, putting down a bottle of sparkling water. She began slicing her pork chop and ate daintily and slowly, frequently glancing over at him and occasionally taking a swig from her bottle of water. Most people who drank that stuff put it in a glass. She drank it like a beer. He almost chuckled.

“You like living alone, don’t you?” He said it more like an observation.

She put her water down and smiled. “What gave me away?”

“You seem—” he glanced down at the bottle of water “—set in your ways. In a good way.” Was he digging himself a hole here?

“Well, when you make it to my age without getting married, it’s bound to happen.”

Unable to stop himself, he said, “I find it very hard to believe you’ve never been married.”

She put her fork down. “Well, I haven’t.”

He watched her drink some more water, uncomfortable with him, not trusting in the least. “Why not?” Someone as beautiful as her wouldn’t stay single long. Or was her remote address an issue?

Setting her water down, she looked at him. “It didn’t work out.”

“So there was someone serious?”

Instead of answering, she picked up her plate and took it to the sink.

Korbin followed. The more evasive she was the more her mystery made him think of more questions. He put his glass down on the counter and his paper plate on top of hers while she made washing forks and knives take longer than necessary.

“Why did you quit motivational speaking?” Did her relationship that didn’t work out have something to do with it?

With an unappreciative glance, she took the paper plates to the trash can inside a cabinet door. Then she leaned back against the counter with her hands draped over the edge. Her flannel shirt stretched over her breasts, drawing his eyes. The material was too thick to see much detail. Taking in her long, slender legs, he all but drooled over the apex of her fit thighs.

When he finally looked back at her face, he met the fiery blue of her eyes.

She had some secrets of her own, or subjects that were off-limits.

“Sorry,” he said.

“I was engaged once,” she said. “He found someone else who had more to offer.”

He hadn’t expected her to answer and suspected she hadn’t, either. Their building curiosity was mutual, it would seem.

“Was he blind or just stupid?” he asked.

That softened her. A tiny smile poked the corners of that succulent mouth. “Both, I’d have to say.”

“Did he lose interest after you showed him the prenup?”

The way she blinked said it all. He’d guessed right.

“I’ve had that happen to me before.”

Instant warmth transformed her face when he said that. She breathed a laugh and smiled at him, straight white teeth flashing. He almost forgot what had brought him to her deserted road. This pull between them was getting strong.

He didn’t ask her if she loved the man. Obviously, she had. And obviously, she’d stopped speaking about inspirational things because of it. Did her hobbies fill the void left behind?

“You said you were married once,” she said. “Did she sign a prenuptial agreement?”

He supposed he should have seen that coming. “No. I never asked her to.” Niya had looked like a blond-haired Barbie doll but inside she’d been the genuine article. She was the kind of woman who didn’t know how beautiful she was. Korbin had to tell her all the time, or she wouldn’t believe it.

They had struck it off so well that Korbin had put off telling her about his parents. She’d grown up in a small Midwestern town in a working-class household. She had one brother. When he had finally told her, she’d been disappointed. She’d been angry with him for keeping it a secret. She hadn’t spoken to him for a week afterward. He’d never had a reaction like that from a woman, and it had made him love her all the more.

He’d pursued her relentlessly. Called. Stopped by the house she rented with another student. At last she’d agreed to see him again. He’d been forthright and honest with her in all things from then on. They’d fallen madly in love. It was unreal.

And then...

“I’m sorry,” Savanna said. “I don’t like it when people ask me about my engagement and...” She didn’t finish. “I shouldn’t have pried like that.”

And what? What had she been about to say? If he asked, he’d be prying the same as she had. And then he’d be obligated to reveal more of his own past. That made his mind up. Talk of Niya was best avoided.

“What other hobbies do you have?” he asked instead.

“Come on.” She started for the kitchen entrance. “I’ll show you.”

He trailed her through the living room to the stairway. Underneath the upper-level steps, more led to a basement. At the bottom, a huge rec room opened. There was a bar and a huge television with theater seats. Shelves on both sides of the TV were full of movies and video games.

Savanna passed that, then turned on a light that illuminated the other half of the room. But the light didn’t come from above, it came from a miniature town set up on a big table. A train track wound its way around, crossing a river and going over a road. There was a hill of houses overlooking the town. All of the buildings had lights and there were even stoplights that worked and cars that followed another track around town.

“You did this?”

“A little at a time.”

“You’re like a boy.” He laughed. “This is great.” He walked around the table. There was even a mine.

After studying every detail of the setup, Korbin saw her watching him with a soft smile. She loved how he appreciated this.

“You’d be a bad fit for city life,” he said. “You wouldn’t have time for all of this.”

She shook her head. “No.”

But he sensed she’d rather share it with someone. “Do you ever plan to have kids or are you too much of one yourself?”

“I’m too much of a kid myself,” she said. “I make a better aunt than I would a mom.”

He could see that about her. “I feel the same way, except I’m an only child.”

Sharing the growing connection between them, the moment heated up. Her eyes batted and lowered and she clasped her hands in front of her.

With the choo-choo of the train, Korbin stepped closer. Something deep in him warned to resist this, but desire overruled. Reaching out, he took her hands, coaxing her to unclasp them and then pulling her slowly to him. One step. Two. And then she was against him. She put her hands on his chest and looked up, in a spell that had fallen over them both.

He didn’t give her time to react. Didn’t give himself time to think. Just kissed her. Soft at first. Gentle. Warm. And then the very thing that had him in awe over her rolled into a ball of flames.

She made a groaning sound and the next thing he felt was her fingers raking through his short hair. He gave her more, and the fevered kiss compelled him to wrap both his arms around her, hands gliding down her slender back to her rear and pressing her against his growing hardness. She had to feel it through those thin pants.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. More than the reason that had brought him here, he still felt beholden to someone else.

Slowly, with unease building, he pulled back. She looked up at him through half-opened eyes, luscious mouth plump and wanton. She’d felt exactly the way he’d imagined. And more. So much more that foreboding crept into his unease. He felt as though he would betray Niya if he allowed this to go any further.

The smoke began to clear. Her eyes grew more aware. Abruptly she stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what made me do that.” Angelina Jolie lips...tight pants...braless breasts...

“Uh...how about a movie?”

“Sure.” A really loud, action-packed movie with no sex in it.

* * *

The next morning, Savanna stretched with a languorous moan. She’d just had the most wonderful dream.

Korbin’s big, strong body on top of hers...a big, hard erection igniting her flesh...

Her eyes popped open. Springing to sitting position, she cursed and wiped the hair off her flushed face. She was ready for him and he wasn’t even in here! Would she fall so easily for yet another man, only to lose him later?

Appalled, Savanna flung the covers off her, took a long shower and stayed in her room for a little longer. All the while, his kiss kept taunting her. So did the way he looked at her after the action thriller they’d watched. They’d walked upstairs and at his bedroom door, temptation to stay in her bed had begun to burn in his eyes.

She could have stripped naked for him right then. Hell, she could have stripped naked and pushed him into his room. Instead, she’d forced her feet to back up until she was able to turn and go to her room, where she’d looked at him as she closed the door.

Sleep had come much later. Now it was coming to 10:00 a.m.

Dressed in jeans and a gray wool sweater, she finally went downstairs.

Korbin was in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, reading one of her books. The television was on in the living room, tuned in to a weather channel that was talking about the blizzard on the way for tonight.

He looked up when he heard her. His eyes flared with heat before he stopped the reaction. Shutters came down and emotion vanished. He was guarded, cold. Stopping his attraction. Where had that come from? Did he regret kissing her last night?

That part of his past he couldn’t talk about must be why. Instead of thinking twice about entertaining any romantic possibilities with him, she should take his lead and put a stop to this right now. Going into another high-risk relationship wasn’t on her adventure radar. High-risk because there was too much uncertainty. The next man she got involved with, she’d get to know very well first. As in, it would be months before she slept with him, not weeks as she’d done before.

The sound of a passing snowmobile had both of them looking outside. The sky was overcast, but it had stopped snowing.

Hurley rented snowmobiles, but his property was far enough away that no one ever rode this close. The trails were several miles away.

Savanna went to the back patio door. She saw nothing, and the sound faded.

“I hope they aren’t lost,” she said.

When Korbin didn’t respond, she looked at him. He stared at the window, brow low and creased. It bothered him that a snowmobile had driven so close to her house.

“What’s the matter?” Once again she felt a strange sense of foreboding come over her. Something about him caused it. Why?

“Nothing.” He stood up and went to the front door, opening it and searching outside. Then he closed and locked the door and went to the garage. When he made sure that was locked tight, he returned to the living room.

He was acting weird.

A sound from the sunroom stiffened Savanna. She remembered that she’d left the door unlocked in there. Looking at Korbin, she saw he’d realized that along with her.

An instant later, a man wearing a black ski mask and winter outerwear appeared with a pistol. The shock of the sight rendered Savanna frozen. He fired the pistol at the same time Korbin pushed her into the kitchen, putting her behind him just as the man rushed in after them.

Savanna stepped backward as Korbin grabbed an island stool and threw it at the man. While the man stumbled, Savanna ran out of the kitchen through the other entrance. She flattened her back against the wall, breathing hard, looking around for a weapon. She spotted the phone on the side table. Hearing Korbin fighting the stranger, she ran to the phone and then back to the wall for cover, ducking as the man fired again. Bullets struck her cabinetry and Korbin leaped into the living room, taking cover with her.

They had to get out of here.

“This way!” Savanna ran for the front entry.

She stopped short when the man in black emerged from the other kitchen opening, aiming his weapon and blocking their escape. She waited in horror for him to shoot.

Korbin moved so that she was behind him. “Don’t shoot.”

Savanna wasn’t going to wait for the man to start firing his gun. Picking up a bottle of wine from the buffet and wine cabinet, she hurled it at the man. He ducked and the bottle shattered against the wall.

Korbin charged forward and punched the stranger hard enough to knock him down. He fell to the side, partially in the kitchen.

Savanna ran to the front entry and took cover there, lifting the phone. There was no signal. The line was dead. Not that calling the police would do much good. How would they reach them in time with all the snow on the ground?

Oh, God. What were they going to do?

Dropping the phone, she heard Korbin fighting the man again. Peeking around the corner, she didn’t see them. They were in the kitchen. A loud crash told her something had just gone through her patio door. Another gunshot rang out, followed by a few smacking punches, and then the two men crashed to the floor in the kitchen entry. Korbin had the intruder’s wrist in his grip, keeping the gun aimed upward. The intruder twisted free but Korbin hit his face and then kicked the gun from his grasp. It clattered to the floor. Savanna ran to pick it up just as the man pulled a knife from a holder on his boot. He lunged at Korbin, who jumped back to avoid being cut.

Savanna moved to stay out of his way and saw the other man run for the broken door. Korbin didn’t chase after him.

“Let’s get out of here.” Korbin took the gun from her and guided her into the entry, looking back to make sure the man didn’t follow.

“Who was that?” she asked.

He put his back to the wall near the doorway. “We can’t stay here.”

“Why not? That man is out there.”

“There’s a lodge across from Chavis’s cabin. Let’s ski there,” Korbin said, gesturing to her closet full of gear. “Get dressed.”

Savanna kept everything in here anyone might need for cold weather. “You, too.” She handed him long underwear that was still in the package. Korbin stayed by the door with the gun. The house was quiet.

“Maybe we should stay here,” she said. “I think he left.”

“Your back door is broken. He’ll come back. We should go somewhere safe.”

Korbin had a good point. If the man returned, he’d be able to get inside. But would they be any safer out in the wilderness? It was a long way to Hurley’s lodge.

“He’s on a snowmobile,” she said.

“We’ll hear him. We have to get away from here,” he said.

“Why? And why did a man show up in my house shooting at you? What’s going on?” Was he on the run from something?

Korbin looked at her as she handed him a jacket.

“Was that a cop?” she asked.

“No.”

“Who was it, then?”

He shrugged into the red-and-black Descente breathable jacket. “I don’t know.”

Wondering if he was lying, Savanna found long underwear and a lightweight fleece. “But you know why he’s after you.” The man had to be after him. No one would come after her.

Next she found a breathable jacket and snow pants but didn’t dress. That feeling of foreboding intensified. Instinct urged her to stay in her house. She could board up the window with extra fencing that was piled outside the stable.

“Get dressed, Savanna.”

She threw the garments she held onto the floor. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

After peering out from the entry to check if the man had returned, he said to her, “You have to.”

“No, I don’t. You brought that shooter into my home. It was peaceful until you got here.”

He stared at her. “This involves you, too, now.”

The sting of shock froze her. “How?”

He hesitated, much the same as he had when he’d first gotten stuck on her road. “He saw you. You’re with me. That means you’re in danger.”

Just because he’d seen her? “Why was he shooting at you?”

“Get dressed, Savanna. I don’t have time to explain right now. We have to get as far away from here as we can.” When she only stared at him, he urged, “Please. Just listen to me. And trust me. I’ll keep you alive. I promise.”

“I’ll keep myself alive by staying here.”

“What if he comes back here?”

Her face grew cold with dread. “Why would he do that?”

“Savanna...”

She stared at him as she began to see his point. She might not be safe here and she would be at Hurley’s. Get to Hurley’s. That’s what she had to do. She quickly dressed and then slipped her feet into ski boots. Putting a pair of boots in front of him, she went back to the closet and threw him a hat, gloves and goggles. A backpack came next. Korbin caught it and slung it over one shoulder and then caught a transceiver she tossed at him last.

The sound of crunching glass, as though someone had stepped over some in the kitchen, galvanized her into faster action. After slinging her own pack onto her back and securing her transceiver, she picked up two pairs of mountain skis just as a loud crack of a firing rifle deafened her and took a chunk out of the doorjamb inches from Korbin’s head. He fired back and ran after her out the front door.

The intruder had a rifle now!

Shaking, frantic for air, Savanna shoved her booted feet into the skis, Korbin doing the same beside her. She skied toward the trees, looking back to see the man with the rifle appear in the front doorway. He saw them skiing away but didn’t fire. Instead, he disappeared back into the house. With sickening dread, Savanna knew he’d go for his snowmobile. He’d track them down and kill them. The faster they reached Hurley’s the better. The only problem was that a straight line to Lost Trail Lodge was over a fourteen-thousand-foot mountain. Assuming they could stay hidden from the gunman, they would have to ski miles of rugged terrain. Even if they took the shortest route, she didn’t think they’d make it before the next storm hit.

Tucking the gun into a pocket of his jacket, Korbin started skiing in the direction of the lodge. Savanna skied ahead of him. He didn’t know the way. She did. And the safest. This was dangerous avalanche country.

Snowcapped peaks were hidden under building clouds. Pine and blue spruce trees sagged beneath the weight of snow. A blanket of smooth white powder stretched before her to the edge of the trees. She headed for a path that led to Hurley’s yurt-touring trails.

Finding the trail, she skied to a stop and looked back at her house. From here it looked peaceful. Leaving tore at her.

Korbin skied to a stop beside her. “Let’s get moving.”

She looked at him with doubt before skiing ahead of him through the trees. The sound of a snowmobile made her push harder. The man would easily find their tracks and follow.

A few minutes later, the sound faded and all she heard were their skis swishing through the snow.

At the base of the hill, she stopped. Climbing would slow them down. So would the weather. The wind had begun to blow, lifting fresh powder off the surface.

Savanna searched through the trees and listened for the snowmobile, briefly meeting Korbin’s eyes before moving on. The trail reached an avalanche chute. Korbin stopped, looking up the steep slope and not skiing across. After the heavy snow, the danger was high right now.

She skied out onto the slope, traversing it carefully until she made it to the trees on the other side. Korbin followed and they picked up the trail again.

At the top of the slope, Savanna heard something moving in the trees. She stopped to scan their surroundings.

Korbin did the same. It was probably a deer or branches falling under the weight of snow.

“How much farther to the lodge?” Korbin asked.

“We won’t make it there by tonight.”

His gaze shot to her. It was already midafternoon and snow had begun to fall.

She explained about the mountain. “Crimson Morning is the closest yurt to my house and the farthest from the lodge. We have another hard climb and then it’s mostly downhill from there to reach it. We should stay at Crimson Morning tonight and try to make it to the lodge in the morning.”

“What do you mean, try?”

“It’s going to take us another two hours to get to Crimson Morning. Maybe longer in this weather.”

He looked ahead at the trail in consternation. As an experienced skier, he had to know it took roughly an hour per mile to ski in this terrain, and another hour for every thousand vertical feet. Longer in bad weather.

“How far is the next yurt after Crimson Morning?”

“Silver Plume will take us another two or three hours.”

“Then we ski to Silver Plume today.”

Savanna tipped her head back to observe the sky. “That could be dangerous.” Wind carried heavier falling snow down upon them. She’d rather play it safe and stay at Crimson Morning.

“It’s a risk we have to take.”

She met his look. Whoever had shot at him and why must have him worried. It had her worried. It upset her calm world and thrust her into a frightening unknown. People shot at her brother Lincoln, not her. Well, Autumn, too. What was it with their family? They seemed to be living their very own action movie.

The snap of a twig made her jerk to her right. There was no sound of a snowmobile. The man who’d attacked them couldn’t walk through this snow. It was too deep. Had he taken a pair of skis from her house?

Korbin pulled out the gun and aimed into the forest. She looked in that direction but saw nothing. Then a figure moved among the trunks. A mountain lion prowled forward and stopped when it saw them.

Savanna’s heart slammed in her chest, but she remained still and quiet.

Korbin didn’t fire. He waited. A gunshot would alert the man after them of their whereabouts. One good thing about the snow is that it would soon cover their tracks. The big cat’s head faced them, studied them and then sprang into an acrobatic run through the forest in the opposite direction.

He turned toward her. Calm. Full of secrets. Different from the man she’d spent an evening with, showing off her train set and watching a movie. Handling a gun was not unfamiliar to him. What was he hiding?

* * *

Crimson Morning came into view. Korbin had taken the lead and they’d made good time. Savanna showed no signs of tiring, but he skied to a stop in front of the yurt. No other skiers were there. The lodge had likely held off any tours until after the storm.

Korbin looked for signs of the shooter. He hadn’t heard the snowmobile, which could mean he’d taken to skis for quieter stalking.

He looked at Savanna. “Are you okay to press on?”

She nodded. She must feel better about the time they’d made getting here. Korbin loved that about her. She hadn’t asked him about the gunman, either. Getting to safety was the top priority, but he knew she was thinking about it. He’d have to explain it eventually. She was a tough woman, albeit in a slender, feminine body.

Korbin skied past Crimson Morning and began another climb. A feeling came over him about halfway up the mountain. Had he heard something? They were in a clearing. He looked into the trees and didn’t see anything. But then a slight movement just upslope caught his eye. As soon as he spotted a black hat poking up above a fallen log, the explosion of a rifle echoed off the mountainside. The bullet splintered a tree trunk beside him. Pieces of bark hit his jacket.

“Get down!” he yelled, scrambling on his skis to take cover behind the tree.

A second gunshot cracked. He heard it hit the snow near his feet. He leaned his shoulder against the tree and checked on Savanna. She’d crouched behind another tree not far from him, gripping her poles, eyes wide with terror, breath misting the air, giving their position away.

Korbin pulled out the gun.

Another gunshot erupted. The bullet tore through his backpack, giving his body a jerk. If he tried to peer around the trunk, he just might get a bullet in the head for the effort.

The shooter had a clear shot. All he had to do was wait for them to move. Damen. Korbin had known it was him as soon as he’d heard the snowmobile back at Savanna’s house. He had followed him here, maybe even predicted where he’d go. He had a snowmobile, a pistol, a rifle and skis. He’d planned well. Korbin had to predict his next move. But how? He and Savanna would have heard him if he’d ridden this far. Unless he’d ridden to this point and waited for them, knowing they’d try to seek help at the lodge. Korbin wouldn’t have thought Damen was smart enough to pull something like this off. And his biggest question was why? Why come after him? Why try so hard to kill him?

He looked for a way to escape. The trees where they had taken shelter weren’t thick. Just on the other side, another clearing offered a possibility. There were two drawbacks, however. One, the trees were spaced wide enough to offer little protection, and two, the clearing over there was an avalanche chute. But if they could reach it and ski away...

Spotting something that would serve as good cover, he looked toward Savanna and whispered harshly, “When I start shooting, ski for that boulder.”

She jerked her head, spotting the boulder, and then nodded at him.

Korbin stuck his poles into the snow and eased the pistol beside the trunk. Aiming in the direction where he’d seen the hat, he fired and then sprang into motion after Savanna started skiing. He skied hard to the next tree, where he fired again. His bullet hit a fallen tree trunk where the hat bobbed down and out of view. Korbin skied the rest of the way to the boulder, joining Savanna there. When Damen kept firing, Korbin fired back until the gun clicked. No more bullets.

As soon as he tossed the weapon aside, a distinct rumble began high up on the mountain.

“Avalanche,” Savanna murmured, fear giving her voice a tremor.

“Get away from the chute.” Korbin looked over the boulder. He didn’t see the hat anymore. Damen had gone to take cover, probably hoping they’d die in the avalanche. Which they very well could. The trees weren’t thick here. It was a small cluster that divided chute. They were right in the middle of the avalanche path.

“Get back into the trees!” he shouted. It was the best chance they had.

In an instant, the rumble was upon them. Korbin was flung forward and bashed into a tree. A white cloud engulfed him and he heard Savanna scream. He wrapped his arms around the trunk and held on. Snow ripped down the mountain, splintering trees and crashing with a deafening roar.

Seconds later it was over. The avalanche reached the valley and went silent. Korbin looked for Savanna...and didn’t see her.

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