Diana Palmer - Wyoming Bold

She reached up, around his neck, and clung to him quite suddenly as the hunger flashed in her like lightning. She kissed him back with the same urgency that he kissed her.

But very soon, it became clear that he was going to have to start undressing her or stop kissing her. It had been a very long dry spell.

He drew back, flattered that he had to uncouple her hands from his neck and ease her away from him.

He smiled gently at her embarrassment. “Don’t worry. It’s all perfectly natural.”

“It...is?”

“Yes. It is.” He brushed back her hair, loving the feel of it. “We should go inside.”

She swallowed. She could still taste him on her lips. He tasted of coffee and mint. She smiled slowly. “I guess so.”

He chuckled. He got out and helped her down. He held her hand all the way into the restaurant.

“WHY DID YOU change your mind about where we ate?” Merissa asked when they were halfway through huge plates of chicken lo mein, which they discovered was a mutual favorite. “I mean, I’m not complaining, I love Chinese food. But why?”

“Same reason I hired a man to sweep my truck for bugs,” he said heavily. “It seems I hired the bad guy to put in a surveillance system for me.”

“Oh, my gosh!” she exclaimed.

“I’m usually more careful,” he said with a smile. “But I had no idea he was that close. You see, your premonition was right on the money. You really do have a gift.”

“I hate having it,” she replied.

“This time, it might save my life,” he said. “I’m grateful.”

She grimaced. “I was so afraid, turning up at your door in a snowstorm.” She laughed. “But I felt I had to tell you.”

“If you hadn’t, I’d be in a world of trouble right now,” he pointed out. “I had no idea that I was even a target after so long.”

“You wouldn’t have been, I think, except for the politician running for federal office,” she said. “He’s trying to get rid of any embarrassing loose ends before the campaign heats up. Imagine what his adversaries could do with information like his friendship with a drug cartel.”

“Yes.”

“This man you hired, to look for the bugs your adversary placed,” she began. “There’s a woman. She’s in very great danger.” She bit her lip.

“She’s a photojournalist covering a war in Africa,” he supplied, not even uneasy now about her gifts.

She nodded. “An unexpected thing will save her life,” she said slowly. “A necklace, of all things.”

“She’ll be all right?” he asked, concerned.

“She won’t die,” she amended.

That sounded ominous.

She drew in a breath. “Someone told a lie. It’s what separates them. He believed it.” She sipped hot tea. “It was said to protect her, but instead it destroyed her happiness.” She looked up at him. “She loves him so much,” she said heavily. “It’s a shame.”

He wondered if he should tell Rourke.

“Don’t,” she said, as if she’d read the thought. “Don’t say anything to him. Things are at a crossroads right now. If he acts too soon, she could die. Everything is connected. We live in a silver web of activity, binding all that lives on the earth.” She laughed again. “I sound like a tree hugger. Well, I am a tree hugger. But we’re much more connected than people think.”

“A butterfly flaps its wings and there’s a typhoon?” he teased.

“Something like that, yes.”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her warmly. “You’re amazing,” he said. “I’ve never known anybody like you in my whole life.”

“I hope that’s a compliment.”

“It truly is,” he confessed. He smiled. “And tonight is a beginning. Isn’t it?”

She started to say something. Her eyes grew opaque. She lost color. Her green eyes were terrified when they met his. “We have to go home. Right now! Please!”

He didn’t bother to ask what was wrong. It was enough that she knew something was urgent. He got up and paid the check and then led her out to the truck.

“At my house or yours?” he asked as he started it.

“Mine. And please, hurry!” she said. “It may be too late already!”

He didn’t spare the engine.

They pulled up in front of Merissa’s cabin and ran onto the porch. Merissa worked her key in the lock, fumbled and finally opened it.

“Mom!” she called frantically. “Mom!”

There were sounds of movement. A door opened. Clara came out into the hall, a little foggy, laughing.

“Here I am. What’s wrong?” she asked when she saw their worried faces.

“I...had a feeling,” Merissa said, hating to put it even into words, for fear it might come true.

“A feeling?” Clara asked gently, and now she was frowning, too.

Merissa relaxed. She laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She turned to Tank. “I rushed you home for nothing!”

“It’s always good to check,” Tank replied gently. “I’m beginning to put a lot of confidence in your ‘feelings.’”

She smiled at him warmly. “Thanks.”

“What sort of feeling?” Clara asked, because she knew that Merissa didn’t give way to panic.

“I don’t know. Something dangerous. Something planned.” She closed her eyes. “Soon. Very soon.” She opened her eyes. “I don’t know what!” she groaned.

Clara hugged her. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll be okay.”

“Just in case,” Tank said slowly, “I’m going to put a man over here, to keep an eye on the place.”

“That would be so kind of you,” Clara began.

Merissa frowned. “Do I smell smoke?”

They split up, going from room to room. All of a sudden, the fire detector in the back bedroom went off like an explosion.

Tank ran ahead of the women, rushed into the room and stopped dead. There was smoke coming from an extension cord. Beside it, a squirrel was squirming in agony.

“Oh, dear,” Clara murmured. “I forgot to close the flue in here... Squirrels love to come in the cabin and build nests in the ceiling.” She grimaced. “Is he dead?”

Tank picked him up. The squirrel was shivering. “He’s not dead, but he’s going to need some attention. I have a friend who’s a wildlife rehabilitator. I’ll call him as soon as I get home. Have you got a shoebox and an old towel?”

Clara rushed to get them for him so that he could transport the injured squirrel.

“I’ll unplug it.”

“Be careful, honey,” he told her.

She glanced at him and flushed prettily. She laughed and eased the plug out of the wall.

He loved that blush. He loved calling her pet names. She was the sweetest woman he’d ever known.

“You think he’ll be okay?” she asked, gently touching the head of the injured squirrel.

“Careful, he may bite,” he said.

“Oh, they never bite me. I’ve picked up all sorts of injured things, even a snake, once. I had to put a bandage on his back. Weed eater got him,” she said ruefully.

“You aren’t afraid of snakes?” he asked, curious.

“I’m terrified of them,” she said. “But he was bleeding and obviously in pain. So I picked him up. He didn’t seem to mind, even when I started putting antibiotic ointment and a big Band-Aid on him. I had to take him to a wildlife rehabilitator, too. I wonder if it’s the one you know?”

He chuckled. “Probably. There aren’t too many of them around Catelow.” He paused. “What sort of snake was he?”

She blinked. “I don’t really know. He was quite large.”

“Color?”

She described it.

He burst out laughing. “I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it. That’s a rattlesnake, you crazy woman! They’re deadly poisonous!”

“Are they? He was very tolerant. He didn’t even rattle when I put him in the box and took him to the rehabilitator. I guess that explains why he was upset when I wanted him to let the snake go. He didn’t tell me.”

He was amazed, and it showed. “Truly gifted,” he murmured.

“Animals like me, I suppose,” she said shyly. “I have to shoo the birds away from the feeders. One stood on my wrist while I filled up the tube feeder.”

“I like you, too,” he said softly, searching her pale eyes.

Her lips parted on a quick breath. “You do?”

He smiled.

“I mean, you’re not afraid I might turn you into a frog or something in a temper?” she asked, not quite facetiously.

“You don’t have a cat.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everybody knows that witches keep cats,” he pointed out. “Look it up.”

She burst out laughing.

“Should I tell him about the two stray cats we feed every morning?” Clara teased as she came back with a shoebox and a piece of towel.

“Shh!” Merissa said quickly, putting her finger to her lips.

They all laughed.

Tank made holes in the top of the shoebox while Merissa held the squirrel.

“You’re going to be just fine, don’t worry,” she told the little animal. It looked up at her from wide, dilated eyes. It was still shivering.

“I think it’s in shock,” Tank said. He took the squirrel and put it gently in the box with the towel and closed it up. “I’ll call my buddy right away.”

“You’ll let us know?” Merissa asked.

He smiled. “Of course.”

“I hope they don’t eat the wiring in the attic,” Clara said nervously. “I’m going to close the flue right now!”

“At least he’s a boy squirrel. We don’t have to worry about any babies in a nest inside that the mother couldn’t get to,” Merissa said. “They say if it’s a mother squirrel and you close her access, the babies will all die. It’s so sad.”

“True. But so are electrical fires.” Tank glanced at the wall where the cord had been plugged in. “Don’t use that until I can get one of my men over here to check the wiring.”