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  “Damn,” Dare muttered. He slowed to five miles per hour, hoping their reduced speed would improve visibility. It didn’t.

  “Maybe we should pull over,” Andrea said.

  “Pull over where? I don’t even know where the shoulder is now.” He considered stopping right where he was, but even as the thought was forming, the truck tipped toward Andrea’s side. They were off the road.

  Chapter 7

  The situation was quite simply one of survival. They radioed the base that they’d gone off the road and were told that visibility was zero and all travel had been stopped by order of Dare’s deputy commander. No rescue would be forthcoming until the storm passed—around dawn, it was hoped. Neither Andrea nor Dare had expected anything else. Anybody who tried to come after them would probably wind up in precisely the same predicament.

  Dare ventured out briefly to get the survival gear from the back of the truck, and soon he and Andrea were wrapped in wool blankets and staring at each other by the light of a single candle set safely in a tin on the door of the glove compartment.

  Dare shifted suddenly, wedging himself into the corner between the door and the seat. He insisted that Andrea lean back against him and try to sleep.

  “You’re pooped,” he said. “It’s been obvious all evening. Just lean back, shut up and sleep.”

  Covered by layers of winter clothing, he made a comfortable pillow, and Andrea fell asleep with her back to his chest, fatigue taking her by surprise.

  Dare didn’t sleep. Sleep was dangerous in these subzero temperatures, and there was no guarantee you’d ever know that you were freezing to death. Instead he remained watchful. His right arm closed about Andrea’s waist, covering the left arm that was strapped just below her breasts, and he let his chin rest on the top of her head.

  Several hours later, Andrea came instantly awake. She was shaking, but she didn’t feel more than a little cold.

  “Dare?”

  “I’m here.” His rumble was reassuring, right above her head.

  Suddenly she realized why she was shaking. “You’re shivering!”

  “I’m losing a little body heat through my back. It’s right against the door.”

  Andrea shoved herself up immediately and looked at him in the light of the guttering candle. His teeth were clenched.

  “I suppose you thought it would make me feel wonderful in the morning to find you frozen to death under me!”

  “I’m not in any danger of freezing, damn it.” He sat up and tried to pull the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m just a little cold. Shivering will warm me up in a minute.”

  Andrea made a disgusted sound and reached for the candy bars that had come with the survival kit. “Eat one of these. Eat them all. Damn, where are the candles?”

  “In the glove box.”

  “You really amaze me,” she scolded as she pulled out a fresh candle. “You know better than this. Every bit of body warmth is essential. You can’t afford to let yourself get cold.” After lighting the candle, she stuck it onto the stub of the old one. “Here. Take off your mittens and hold your hands right over the candle.”

  He tried to comply, but he was shivering so badly that he was unable to get much good from the flame. Andrea made a disgusted sound and opened the two middle buttons of her parka.

  “Come on, cowboy, put your hands in here.”

  “Don’t call me cowboy,” he grumbled as his hands found their way inside the parka, inside her regulation cardigan, and into a nest of warmth and softness. If he hadn’t been so cold, he might even have enjoyed it.

  Andrea pulled the blankets up and over their hooded heads, sealing in the heat of their breath, wrapping them in a dark cocoon. The light from the candle was dimly visible through the tight weave of the wool blankets. She made a small sound as her injured shoulder bumped into the seat back.

  “This isn’t going to work, Andrea,” Dare said through chattering teeth. “You can’t get comfortable.”

  “I’ll get comfortable when you stop shivering. Until then, I’ll survive.”

  But the shivering didn’t stop. He’d gotten more hypothermic than he’d suspected. Gritting his teeth to stop them from chattering, he pulled his hands away from the warmth of Andrea’s body and struggled to unfasten his parka. When it fell open, he reached for the buttons of hers. She helped him as best she could, and then his frigid hands slipped up her back, inside the stored warmth, and their chests came together, sharing heat. Shifting slightly, he managed to maneuver them so that Andrea rested comfortably against him, all pressure off her shoulder.

  Gradually his violent shuddering began to taper off, and feeling began to return to his fingers, toes, and nose. He still felt cold, deeply, internally cold, but his body signaled that the worst was over by letting his muscles relax between bouts of shivering.

  “Dare?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What have you got against cowboys?”

  He almost smiled. “Nothing. I just don’t like to be called cowboy. My ex-wife used to call me that when she was in one of her bitchy moods.”

  “How long were you married?”

  “For five endless years way back when. Maureen wasn’t cut out for either me or military life. She was a city girl, a socialite. Being a lowly lieutenant’s wife drove her crazy. She should have married a general.”

  “Was she pretty?”

  He considered. “I guess. I thought so at first. Later I thought she was pretty ugly. I got so I hated the sight of her, the sound of her. To this day I can’t stand the perfume she used to wear.”

  “Must’ve been rough.”

  “There’s nothing quite like the ugliness that can happen between two people who know each other well. You get so you know what really hurts and how to use it. Maureen was especially good at it.”

  “I’m sorry.” Andrea’s voice was soft.

  “I recovered a long time ago. It’s a mistake I’ll never make again, though.”

  “Marriage?”

  “Not marriage. Marrying somebody without thinking about just what they’ll be giving up. If I met Maureen now, I’d know better. I’d know it would sour her. Love doesn’t conquer all, you know. It doesn’t conquer anything. Sooner or later you’ve got to deal with the real world. There’s always a trade-off.”

  “How unromantic.” With her cheek against Dare’s chest, she listened to the sound of his heartbeat. He was hardly shivering now, and the earlier rapid rhythm had slowed to normal.

  “Oh, I believe in romance,” he said. “Moonlight, wine, roses—”

  “Skip the roses.”

  He chuckled. “Quiet candlelit dinners, then. But I’m a realist, too, Andrea. Think about it. How would you feel if some man told you to choose between him and your career?”

  There was a silence. “Yeah,” she said quietly after a moment.

  His hands began to move in slow, soothing circles on her back, and a kittenish purr escaped her.

  “You’re all tense,” he said.

  “It’s the shoulder. I seem to be stiff all the time from trying to protect it. Mmm.” His fingers were kneading gently, working the tension out.

  “Andrea?”

  “Sir?”

  “I’m getting a nearly irresistible urge to kiss you again.”

  She surprised him with a low throaty chuckle. “I thought you’d never mention it.”

  It was crazy, it was insane, and he kissed her anyway. Outside, the wind howled and the snow whipped icily, but inside the blankets warmth began to grow.

  It was a curiously sweet and tender episode. Between Andrea’s shoulder, the confinement of the truck, and the deadly threat of the cold, their kisses could not evolve into passion. Instead they savored the warmth and closeness, the gentle, lingering comfort of lips and tongues. It was enough to hold and be held, to kiss and be kissed. They both began to realize what they’d been missing.

  Finally they simply leaned against one another, content and comforted. There was a world of