Up Close and Dangerous Read online

  Proving he was behind it could be difficult. For one thing, all the evidence was here, scattered across the mountainside. Even if the wreckage could be found again, any forensic evidence might well have been destroyed by the elements. On the other hand, cold might preserve evidence; she simply didn’t know. She had to face the very real possibility that, even though she and Cam knew someone had tried to kill them, they might never be able to prove who did it. How could she carry on as before, knowing that? How could she deal with Seth? She couldn’t. She would have to renege on her agreement with Jim, and even under the circumstances she didn’t like doing that.

  But all of that was in the future, assuming she had one. All she was assured of, she realized, was right now. The concept was both liberating and comforting. She wasn’t on tenterhooks, waiting for a rescue that she now knew wouldn’t be coming. They had a plan, and they were putting that plan into action, relying on themselves and their own ingenuity, their personal determination and fortitude. She was good with that.

  Once she had his overshoes made, she began working on the problem of his clothing. Taking two of her flannel shirts—and thank God she’d brought plenty in preparation for two weeks of rafting—she buttoned them together, making one big, ungainly garment out of two. It was an awkward arrangement, but otherwise there was no way anything she had would fit over his chest and shoulders. The sleeves were too short, and the two unused ones dangled down his back, but it was a layer of warmth he hadn’t had before and wasn’t constantly having to be repositioned. He put it on immediately. The two shirts didn’t match so the look was odd, but neither of them cared. What mattered was warmth.

  She would wear the down vest, they decided. For one thing, it fit her. He would wear her brand-new rain poncho, which wasn’t much insulation but would at least block the wind. She had a couple of other ideas for additional layers, if she could work out the details.

  Keeping his legs warm was a problem. While she could put on a couple of pairs of sweatpants, all he had was his suit pants. Even though the sweatpants had an elastic waist, he couldn’t get in them. He was too tall, and she was lean from all the workouts she did.

  Finally she had an idea. “I think I can make something like chaps,” she told him.

  He looked up from the snowshoe he was making from tree branches and wiring, his brows arched in fake astonishment. “Don’t tell me you packed a cowhide, too.”

  “Smart-ass. Just for that, you can freeze.”

  He leaned over and bumped her shoulder with his. “I apologize. What’s popped out of the Idea Factory this time?”

  “I have four microfiber towels.”

  He thought about it, and nodded. “Okay, I can actually see taking towels along for a two-week camping trip. Makes sense.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Skeptical,” she said drily, then explained. “If I cut small slits all along the edges—not cutting the edge itself, but about an inch back—then I could weave a strip of cloth through the slits to make a kind of belt and tie that end around your waist, then lace the edges together the same way down your legs, and presto, you have chaps.”

  “For someone who can’t sew, you’re a handy wench to have around.”

  She had to laugh. “I think it’s ironic. I’ve always hated anything to do with a needle and thread, and now I’m not only having to make stuff, I literally had to sew up your head. That’s just wrong.”

  He looked at the snowshoe in his hands and chuckled. “Tell me about it. I’ve always hated snow, hated being cold—and now look.”

  “If you hate snow, how do you know how to make snowshoes?”

  “The principle is simple—distribute the weight over a wide surface—so all you have to do is make a general grid design that you can strap on your feet.”

  She watched him painstakingly construct the shoe from the smaller, more flexible evergreen branches, his big hands nimble and sure, as if he’d done this a thousand times. Again she was aware of that strong sense of contentment, the feeling that she was right where she belonged—not stuck on this mountain, but here in the moment.

  The struggle to survive, as exhausting and harrowing as it had been, had been external. Inside, she’d felt oddly free of stress, because her choices were simple: do what needed to be done, or die. Make a shelter. Stay as warm as possible. Melt snow to drink. That was it. There was nothing complicated about survival, whereas life was nothing but complications.

  At the same time, man, she couldn’t wait for this to be over. She wanted a hot shower. She wanted a flush toilet. She wanted a supermarket.

  “Know what I’d love to eat, right now?” she said in a tone rich with longing.

  He made a choking sound, then howled with laughter. Bailey’s mind was wandering down the produce aisle, so far removed from sex that she stared blankly at him for a moment before realizing what she’d said. Her face began to heat. “Not that.” She swatted him. “Shut up. I was thinking of a big pot of corn and potato chowder, steaming hot, with bacon crumbles and shredded cheese on top.” Her mouth began to water as she all but tasted the dish.

  He wiped the tears from his eyes with his thumb and said, “Me, I’m more of a meat eater.” The glittering look he gave her told her that he wasn’t thinking of prime rib, and her face got hotter.

  She pushed at him, trying to force him off the trash bag. “Leave! Get away from me, you dirty-minded man.”

  “Guilty as charged,” he drawled, not budging an inch. “On all counts.”

  “I mean it! Leave. Go try out your booties.”

  He was still chuckling as he got up and walked off. Bailey watched him stride toward the plane, her gaze unconsciously lingering on his ass and long legs before she realized what she was doing and jerked her eyes forward. Though the fire didn’t really need it, to occupy herself she added another piece of wood.

  He was seducing her, she realized, truly seducing her, using words and laughter and their forced reliance on each other. She couldn’t walk away from him, she couldn’t wall him out, because their survival depended on their closeness, their cooperation.

  Maybe she should just let him do it, her innate caution whispered, let him have sex. The seduction process would stop then; there wouldn’t be a point to it any longer. If she gave him sex, he’d stop this assault on her heart because he’d think he had already won it. Her emotions would still be safe.

  She had never fallen in love, never wanted to. Now, for the first time in her life, she was afraid that the danger of doing so existed, afraid that Cam Justice could get close enough to really do some damage to her when he moved on. She was trapped by their circumstances, and the realization was terrifying. She couldn’t get away from him, and she couldn’t freeze him out. If he had been any other man she could have, but he saw through her. She didn’t know how, but he did. Somehow she’d revealed too much and there was no going back.

  She hated feeling vulnerable. She hated the suspicion that in just a couple of days she’d come to care for him more than she’d ever let herself care about another human being, except perhaps her brother, and that was entirely different.

  The urge to track Cam with her gaze was maddening, like an itch. Unwillingly she gave in, watched him crouch down to inspect the right wing. Not much of his hair was visible, because of the bandage still wrapped around his head, but at least his head was covered against the cold. He looked like a hobo, with his hodgepodge of clothing—most of which he had tied on or wrapped around him, rather than actually wearing it, but he still carried himself as if he wore a military uniform because he didn’t give a damn if he looked like a hobo. He didn’t give a damn if he had to wear a woman’s clothes, though admittedly her selection of sweatpants and flannel shirts wasn’t exactly feminine. She suspected he wouldn’t have cared if everything she’d brought was adorned with ruffles. What did a ruffle matter, when matched against that kind of self-confidence?

  Suddenly he reached up under the plane, then got on his knees and began working himself beneath t