STORMY SMELLED A rich masculine scent mixed with wood smoke and she sunk deeper into the warm cocoon of sleep, wanting to relax back into the dream she’d been having of a tall, dangerously handsome, dark-haired stranger with strong arms. The soft curves of her body had fit nicely in the hard planes of his.
Was it a dream?
Opening her eyes, she jerked to a sitting position on the couch and frantically scanned her surroundings. Everything came back to her. Accident. Cabin. Sexy stranger.
Red embers were smoking in the fireplace and through the slats of the blind on the window she saw that the sun was rising. It was early yet, and she didn’t see the stranger. What was his name? Gray. Yes, that was it.
Uncovered, she felt the cold of the morning and hurried to drag the cover back up to her chin, holding it tight against her partially naked chest. Naked chest?
The hair on her nape lifted.
The stranger had undressed her.
Her cheeks warmed and her spine tingled. At least she didn’t have to wear the worthless gown any longer. She saw it sitting on the chair across the room and felt a stab of guilt. Not because she’d run away from her own wedding, but because the beautiful dress was discarded so haphazardly. A gown that beautiful deserved to be worn by a bride who was happy and in love with her groom. What had she been thinking by agreeing to marry Duncan? It would have been a mistake she could have never have lived down.
She was acutely aware of the pain in her temples, and when she shifted, another pain shot through her limbs. Closing her eyes, she waited until some of the stiffness in her joints subsided.
What the hell had she been thinking by jumping into the ditch? At the time she’d thought it had been her only choice to save her life from the oncoming vehicle. She wasn’t sure what she struck when she fell, but she did remember hitting something hard and then everything going black.
She was thirsty. And she was sick to her stomach. If she wanted to ease the discomfort, she’d have to brave the cold.
Rolling over, she tossed off the thick blanket and the cooler air chilled her but did ease the nausea some. The quicker she forced her body to move, the sooner she’d feel better. Her mouth was dry and she couldn’t remember ever being so parched. Lifting herself up on her elbow, she spotted the full bottle of water on the table and grabbed it, popped off the lid that went flying across the floor, and drank thirstily. Her stomach warned her that too much and she’d be sick, so she placed the bottle back on the table, although she’d wanted to drain it and more.
The ring on her finger caught the sunshine flowing in through the window. She looked down at the diamond and her stomach turned. All her fears, confusion, and anger trickled down her spine like icy cold fingers. What was Duncan thinking this morning? Would he look for her? Or accept her disappearance as closure? She had a lot of decisions to make today, and the biggest…where would she go? The wedding planner, Tiffany, had told her she could stay here for a few nights, but a few wasn’t long.
Stormy couldn’t go back home because home was in Duncan’s apartment. Stormy had already moved out of her own place and her things were stored in a storage unit until she and Duncan had found another place. She’d planned to live with him at his apartment until they’d found the perfect home, although he hadn’t seemed in any hurry to search for one. In fact, he hadn’t seemed interested in much over the last six months outside of his career. She understood he was a private man, but whenever she tried to speak to him about his daily routine, he would either answer vaguely or shrug off her questions to the point that she’d suspected he had another life. She’d watched a movie once where a man had three wives, all in different states. It seemed farfetched, but as of lately, did she really know Duncan? Someone thought they did because they were sending her notes warning him that he was dangerous.
Since Colette wasn’t taking her calls, Stormy didn’t think she’d be welcomed there. Duncan would find her at her sister’s anyway and Stormy couldn’t face him. Not now.
Standing, it took a minute for the dizziness to subside and her wobbly knees to strengthen. Dragging the blanket up around her shoulders, she stepped across to the fireplace and poked at the coals. Dropping on two more logs, it took a bit of coaxing, but finally the fire started up again.
Pitter-pattering into the kitchen, she popped open the refrigerator. It was empty. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten much in several weeks.
Scavenging in the cabinets, she smiled. Although it wasn’t fine dining, she wouldn’t stick her nose up at the variety of rice, soups, or even the container of Spam. When she and her sister were little, growing up poor, they’d eaten canned meat like a delicacy. She was especially happy to see the bag of coffee she found sitting on the counter. Once she set the coffee maker to brew, she opened two cans of chicken noodle soup, dropped the contents into a pan and set the stove to simmer.
Curious about the cabin, she looked around, opening drawers and inspecting the books on a shelf until she unintentionally found herself standing at the open doorway into the bedroom where the stranger was sleeping. Her heart beat thumped wildly as she stared like a child outside the window of a candy store. He was on his back sprawled across the bed that looked small compared to his large, muscular frame. One arm thrown over his eyes, his wide jaw slightly tilted. His other arm lay across his flat stomach and she scooted her gaze across his smooth chest.
Stormy had slightly wondered if she’d imagined how masculine and strapping he was, but she hadn’t fabricated one iron dip or sinewy plane. The waistband on his blue boxers was tugged low on his slender hips and she could see a dark path of crisp hair that stopped at his navel. There was a bulge stretching the cotton and her inner thighs throbbed.
Duncan and this man were worlds apart. Her fiance—or rather, ex fiance—ran five miles every morning, ate healthy, and took care of himself. Looking at Gray, by the ruggedness of his jaw, the breadth of his arms and the scars on his chest and legs told her his strength came from working hard and taking risks. He was built like a crime fighter or modern-day warrior.
Stepping into the room, she hesitated a few feet from the door, feeling like she was invading his privacy, and yet they were alone together in a hideaway cabin. She had no clue who he was except his first name. Gray. He could have told her his last name too, but she couldn’t remember. For all she knew he could be a serial killer that preyed upon defenseless women in snowstorms. The very thought made her giggle. If he were hunting his next victim, he’d done a very poor job of it. She had a feeling, just from looking at him, he didn’t fail at much. If he had any evil intentions, he certainly wouldn’t leave her sleeping on the couch or tend to her wound. Scratching that thought from her mind, she moved closer to the bed, getting a better view at the white jagged scar on his knee and another that looked stark against the backdrop of his tanned, smooth chest. Stormy had the desire to trace the marks and wondered where that feeling came from. Duncan had a few scars too and they’d never enlisted a desire in her to trace them.
The man was ruggedly handsome. As she examined him closer, she found several more paler scars on his torso and on his arms. Where would he get all the wounds? The fresh bruising on his knee must have been from the accident.
Guilt plagued her. This was all her fault. They were stranded here in a remote cabin because she’d presumed her sports car would pass the icy mountain, and without knowing the road, she’d been unaware of the dog-leg curve. She had lost control and hit the snow bank pretty hard. Her mind had been preoccupied with getting away from the church that she’d failed to think ahead. Her clothes and purse were in the trunk of her car, but that could be another country in distance.
When he awoke, he would have questions, and rightly so. She had her own. It wasn’t every day a man came upon a woman walking on a snow-covered road wearing a wedding gown. Trying to lie about her situation would be impossible, at least to a certain extent. Stormy would have to decide, at the moment, how much she would divulge to the stranger. Maybe it would depend on how much he really wanted to know. He could be the type that didn’t want details and would be in a hurry to get off the mountain and get away from her. Or he could be concerned.
His arm had slipped from covering his face and she could see him.
His jaw was covered with dark stubble and his mouth was set at a grim line. She lowered her attention to his enormous shoulders and she envisioned him holding her, whispering in her ear, and it seemed as clear as if it had actually happened. The image made her weak limbs quiver.
He moved his hand from his waist and rolled slightly, causing the pillow to shift, and she caught a glimpse of something black hidden underneath. A handle of a gun? What the hell? Her gasp echoed off the walls.
Who was this man and why did he have a gun?
Maybe she’d mistakenly put aside her fear of him too quickly…
Her instincts were immediately on high alert as she looked back at the still sleeping figure. Although the hair on her nape was lifted, she couldn’t help but watch him with a curious gaze again.
The stranger rolled further to his side, mumbling something under his breath and the only two words she caught were “Phantom” and “catch”. Neither meant anything to her. There was a strength in him that she couldn’t quite describe. He was masculine, sexy, and although she did have some fear remaining, a part of her felt safe. A man like him seemed strong enough to keep her safe.
He could also overpower her if he wanted to. And with a gun, that would be sending a wolf to kill an ant.
The front of his underwear had gaped open and she caught a glimpse of his full erection. Her inner thighs quivered and she cursed under her breath. Was she crazy? This was so unlike her.
Stormy had walked away from her groom minutes before she was to walk down the aisle. Possibly hitting her head so hard it had affected her fight or flight senses, but she didn’t feel the need to run. Or possibly she just didn’t want to run out into the cold wearing some blanket and strappy heels that were uncomfortable on dry land, let alone ice. Even then, where would she go?
The thought resonated through her head, swarming her brain cells with truth.
She had nowhere to go. No home. Even her sister wouldn’t take her calls.
Here was a man with a gun and they were stranded together.
Dear God, she sure hoped she didn’t run from one monster to find herself in the web of another. Wouldn’t that just be her luck?