No More Mr. Nice - By Renee Roszel Page 0,62
her suggested that maybe she should heed her own advice, but she didn’t have time to ponder the wisdom of it. Something ahead of her moved. She squinted and recognized it as an animal of some kind—with a long, white—“Oh, my Lord,” she breathed. A skunk.
She pivoted on the log to backtrack, and was horrifed to see another skunk on the far end of the log, with several smaller ones trailing behind. Had she stumbled into some sort of skunk parade? A polecat family on an outing?
The absurd circumstance that had put her in the middle of a log bridge between a touchy-looking mother skunk and her offspring on one end, and perhaps, dear old Dad on the other, wasn’t important right now. What was important was—she was trapped!
She ran through her list of options quickly. It was short—get squirted by an irate skunk, or get wet. Taking a deep breath, she slipped into the stream, clamping her jaws to stifle a cry at the icy chill of the water. Remaining as still as she could, she stood statuelike, afraid to breathe, as the mother and her offspring crept across the log at eye level.
Once they’d disappeared into the blackness, she sucked in a long-overdue breath and hugged herself to ward off the violent tremors that flooded her body.
“Let me guess,” came a deep, amused voice. “You’re going down with the ship?”
Lucas stood on the bank, his lanky legs braced wide, his arms folded across his chest, a crooked grin on those firm, sensual lips. He exuded that maddening sexual magnetism she knew so well, and had fought so hard. She stared longingly at him, thinking maybe a dip in the freezing water was worth seeing him smile again. A violent shiver brought her back to her situation, and she retorted through chattering teeth, “I love f-funny men. Why don’t you g-go look for one!”
“You’re catching your death.” He leaned forward, extending a hand. “Grab hold.”
Since the other bank was steep, she had no choice but to move toward him, but she ignored his offer. “N-no thanks.” Even his casual helping hand would be hard to bear, now that she knew what those hands could do
He cursed, grasping her by the upper arm and hauling her out. “At the rate you’re moving, you’ll freeze solid,” he said, hoisting her into his arms. “You’ll have to get out of those things.”
“I can’t g-go back.” she objected weakly. “Mother’s lost.”
“No, she’s not. She was out—’using the facilities’—to put it in her delicate terms.”
Jess relaxed as much as her quivering muscles would allow. “Thank heaven.” Looking around, she discovered they weren’t headed toward the campfire, but were crossing the log bridge. “Wh-where are we going?” she asked, her teeth making loud, clacking noises.
“The cottage.” He sounded reluctant, as though he had no desire to take her there. “You can get out of those wet things.”
Just as Lucas stepped off the log and onto the bank, there was the sound of barking, and Moron rushed past and disappeared into the woods. “Damn dog’s going to be pleasant company on the trip back,” Lucas mused with a resigned shake of his head.
She eyed him speculatively. “You saw the skunks, then?”
He met her gaze. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t try to help me?”
“I left my tranquillizer gun at the office,” he drawled, a faint smile quirking his lips. “Anything I’d have done would have set them off.”
She realized he was probably right and dropped the indignant tone. “Moron’ll get lost,” she murmured. “We’re pretty far from the house.”
“I doubt it,” Lucas said with a mordant chuckle. “The worse he smells, the faster he finds the house. It’s one of Murphy’s newer laws.” They reached the clearing and he stepped across the picket fence.
“You don’t sound particularly unhappy about it,” she commented softly. “You’ve changed, Lucas.”
He set her on the cottage porch and reaching up over the door, fished for a key. “I’m just too tired to care,” he muttered, as he inserted it in the lock. The scarred portal creaked as it swung open. Lucas stepped back to allow her to precede him. “Take off those wet things. I’ll get a fire going.”
He crossed the room to the hearth, opened a rough chest, and lifted some cut wood from it. He’d placed several logs in the hearth before turning to peer at her. She was still shrinking near the door. “Get those things off,” he repeated more sternly.
She swallowed hard. “Don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate? I