“Then there’s something wrong with the men in this town.”

And with the women, she thought, if this delectable man was actually at loose ends on a Friday night. Outside, they were instantly assaulted by a burst of wind. Clouds were bunching together in low, swirling masses, blocking a sun that had already started its downward descent.

“Your car?” he asked suddenly.

She shook her head. “I almost always walk.” Since Moscow was built on hills, walking made for excellent exercise, at least until the snows hit. “Where are we going, anyway?”

He cleared his throat. “Tell you in a minute.” As soon as he figured it out himself. He’d spent the entire week just finding her, this lady who seemed to have entered his soul like sunlight. He’d simply wanted to see her one more time, see if she was as real as he’d remembered, only somehow he’d never gotten around to worrying about what to do with her then. And maybe he’d expected to find her talking to a class about reproductive functions in some academic way, not happily chattering about sexual intimacy in front of a roomful of teenagers.

Damn it, he’d faced death-more than once. He’d shaken hands with courage, and he had no doubts about himself whatsoever in terms of strength of character or fortitude…but he hadn’t figured on a lovesick attraction for a woman who spoke about sex as if it were toothpaste. Normal, average stuff. For her.

Sliding into the seat beside him, Kay tossed her books in the back of the car as Mitch started the engine. She resisted an urge to brush back that single shock of white hair that had fallen over his forehead. He was so quiet! She had the feeling Mitch took life far too seriously-maybe he had had to.

At the first stop sign, he tossed a sudden, lazy smile her way. “How do you feel about climbing fire towers?” he asked gravely.

Normally, just the word climb was enough to set off a phobic reaction in Kay. But she took another look at Mitch. His eyes, settled on hers, were like polished stones still warm from the sun, and she found herself catching her breath. “That sounds like an occasion for a bottle of wine,” she responded, just as gravely.


***

“You can put me down anytime, you know. Really. What’s a pair of shoes? And the ground isn’t that damp.”

Kay glanced back; she wasn’t sure why. It had something to do with her skirt hiking up around her waist as Mitch carried her piggyback. Still, there was no one around to sneak a peek at her blue-and-white polka-dot underpants.

It was one of those Robert Frost woods. Lovely, dark and deep. Also nearly impenetrable. Regardless, it smelled marvelous, like clean winter wind and pungent bark and rich, dark earth. A few leaves still clung to the trees, just enough so the wind could whistle through them in exotic, ghostlike murmurs.

She was having a wonderful time. When they’d first stepped out of the car, Mitch had looked first at the thick brush tangling the forest floor, and then at her attractive leather shoes. “Would you believe this has changed more than a little since I was a kid?” he’d said wryly. “Could we start over? Pretend I never came up with the idea of walking to the tower. I’ll take you out for a drink, and if you have time we’ll go out to dinner.”

That struck Kay as a terrible idea. Every instinct told her that being surrounded by people would do nothing to loosen up Mitch. So she’d convinced him that they just had to climb that fire tower of his today. In the process, he’d tried to maintain that quiet reserve of his, but how long could a man stay formal while carrying a woman on his back? And as she’d suspected from the beginning, he had an irrepressible sense of humor.

“You’re getting heavy,” Mitch complained.

“You’re not even breathing hard,” she pointed out.

“Give me a chance. We’re not even near a mattress.”

She blinked, staring in delighted surprise at his dark, wavy hair. That remark was definitely risqué. He was really warming up. And she was determined to get some full-blooded laughter out of him if it killed her.

Her arms were curled loosely around his neck. A bottle of wine and some plastic cups in a brown bag were snuggled between his back and her chest, inside Mitch’s jacket. His forearms had a firm grip on her thighs, and she had the delightful sensation of being carried off like pirate’s booty into the middle of absolutely nowhere. Piggyback wasn’t a romantic position, but it was certainly suggestive, though her fanny was taking most of the cold wind. If she’d worn a full skirt today, she could have pulled off a somewhat more modest posture, but heck, a little end justified the means.

“Where’d the white streak in your hair come from?” she asked conversationally. Her finger stroked that half-inch-wide streak of crisp hair; she’d been wanting to touch it from the first minute she’d seen it. “Genetic thing in your family?”

“No, I earned it carrying two-ton women around in my youth.”

He was the stingiest man with a secret she’d ever met. “Do I have to tell you one more time that I could have walked?”

“And had your feet soaked and your shoes wrecked from the brush. Down.”

She slid, rather unglamorously, down his back to the ground and was given a second and a half to restore her skirt to propriety before he turned around.

“I should have peeked at what my hands were holding all this time,” he remarked.

“After all your grousing, you should be so lucky. Why-” But she could see why they’d stopped. It only looked like the middle of nowhere. Half hidden in dead vines was a metal ladder leading up to the planked floor of the fire tower. In the dusky woods, it hadn’t been immediately visible. She studied the lower steps first, and then her eyes slowly trailed up, and up again.

“It’s rather a long distance to the top,” she commented.

“About three stories’ worth.”

“That platform up there doesn’t look solid.”

“It’s very solid.”

“People can get shortness of breath if they go too high.”

“You’re scared of heights.” Mitch sounded resigned.

“Certainly not,” she assured him, and gulped. “You first.”

“No way.”

A latent burst of propriety made her remind him politely that she was wearing a skirt.

“I already noticed. And I’ve already had my hands on your fanny, so it’s too late to worry about modesty. If you fall, you’ve got a cushion. Me. So it’s ladies first. I won’t look.”

Which was fine, only she hadn’t taken ten steps up before he remarked on her terrific legs, the stinker. Actually, from his position Kay knew he couldn’t really see her legs. From the instant she’d lied about her acrophobia, he’d flanked her every move. His long arms stretched above hers and he made mischievously sure his body was surrounding her with every step. No wonder she was dizzy. It had nothing to do with soaring above the trees…but those steps did keep coming.

She glanced back to look at him. His grin was wicked, his eyes were dancing and his cheeks were ruddy. She had a feeling he hadn’t done anything quite so crazy in years, which was enough of an incentive to drive her up the rest of the way. So her heart was beating in her throat and the vertigo was making her head spin. So?

“So this is your fire tower,” she breathed at the last step.

“Honey, stop clutching the ladder like a lifeline,” he said mildly. “Just step up onto the platform. Honestly, you’ll be safe.”

“It doesn’t have sides,” she observed.

“There are at least eight square feet of solid floor up there, and I’ll be your sides.” His palm, most possessively, patted her rear end encouragingly.

She crawled up onto the platform, pride never having been her strong point. The view, truthfully, was spectacular. Misted mountains climbed to the north and west, with a sterling-silver ball of a moon just rising over them. Beyond the woods, rolling wheat fields sprawled to the south and east, like a blanket stretched out in soft velvet folds. The stars were out, even though it wasn’t pitch-dark yet, and they were so close she felt she could touch them. As it happened, all she wanted to do was grab Mitch’s jacket.

Her fingers clutched, and she heard his soft chuckle. “We can go right back down, you little liar. If I’d had any idea you were this scared of heights-”

“I’m not,” she insisted, and added demurely, “Where exactly is that wine we were carrying? I could use some Dutch courage.”

“Coming. I zipped the bottle up inside my jacket.” Without releasing his firm grip on her wrist, Mitch sat in the center of the wooden floor, tugging Kay into the space between his thighs. She didn’t argue. With both arms around her, he managed to wrestle the wine from the bag and to get the cork out with a pocketknife corkscrew.

“You’re a regular Boy Scout,” she remarked.

“You can stop shaking anytime. There is no possible way I would let you fall.”

Ignorant man. She was terrified of falling, but for the moment she was tingling simply from the feel of his thighs tucked around hers. His body was big, powerfully constructed and unbelievably warm. That heat was in direct contrast to the coolness of his wind-chilled cheek as he leaned forward to pour the Beaujolais into two plastic cups.

Kay relaxed, feeling tucked up and enfolded like a gift-wrapped present. His touch was casual, meant to warm and reassure, not to turn her on. It was delightful to meet a man who didn’t spend all his time negotiating his way into bed. He actually showed old-fashioned symptoms of feeling pleasure just at being with her, no strings attached.

Relaxed or not, Kay felt as though all the blood had drained from her head and settled lower…somewhere near where his thighs touched hers. Wanton fantasies were singing in her bloodstream, and the lyrics were “You’d be so nice to come home to…” She accepted a cup of wine with laudable calm. “You’ve been here before?” she questioned.