What he was really saying was that he had to get away from her. “I know,” she told him in a tortured whisper. “But how?”

  “How’d your dad get to that sick horse?”

  “The Adlers’ neighbor, Ted Wilkens, has a four-wheel-drive. I suppose he came for Dad.”

  “Would it be possible for him to take me into Seattle?”

  Shelly hadn’t thought of that. “I’m not sure. I don’t think he’d mind. I’ll call.”

  “It’s Christmas Eve.” Slade sounded hesitant.

  “They’re that kind of people,” she said, reaching for the phone. Slade paced the small area in front of her while she talked to Connie Wilkens.

  “Well?” Slade studied her expectantly as she hung up the phone.

  “Ted’s out helping someone else, but Connie thinks he’ll be back before dark. She suggested that we head their way, and by the time we arrive, Ted should be home.”

  “You’re sure he won’t mind?”

  “Positive. Ted and Connie are always helping others.”

  “Good people—like you and your dad,” Slade murmured softly.

  Shelly laced her fingers together in front of her. “Yes. We’re neighbors, although they’re a good four miles from here. And friends.” She scooted down in front of Ol’ Dan and petted him in long, soothing strokes. “I told Connie that we’d start out soon.”

  Slade’s brow furrowed as her words sank in. “But how? The tractor?”

  “I couldn’t run that thing if my life depended on it.”

  “Me, either. Shelly, we can’t trek that distance on foot.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of walking.”

  “What other way is there?”

  A smile grew on her soft features until it touched her eyes, which sparkled with mischief. “We can always take the horses.”

  Chapter 7

  “You have to be kidding!” Slade gave her a look of pure disbelief.

  “No,” Shelly insisted, swallowing a laugh. “It’s the only possible way I know to get there. We can go up through the woods, where the snow isn’t as deep.”

  Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Slade stalked to the far side of the room, made an abrupt about-face, and returned to his former position. “I don’t know. You seem to view life as one big adventure after another. I’m not used to…”

  “Pokey’s as gentle as a lamb,” she murmured coaxingly.

  “Pokey?”

  “Unless you’d rather ride Midnight.”

  “Good grief, no. Pokey sounds more my speed.” Doing her best to hold back a devilish grin, Shelly led the way into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Making us a thermos of hot chocolate.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought we’d stop and have a picnic along the way.”

  “You’re doing it again,” he murmured, but she noticed that an indulgent half-smile lurked just behind his intense dark eyes. Slade was a man who needed a little fun in his life, and Shelly was determined to provide it for him. If she was to touch his life only briefly, then she wanted to bring laughter and sunshine with her. Margaret would have him forever. But these few hours were hers, and she was determined to make the most of them.

  “It’ll be fun,” she declared enthusiastically.

  “No doubt Custer said the same thing to his men,” Slade grumbled, following her out to the barn.

  “Cynic,” Shelly teased, holding open the barn door.

  Reluctantly, he followed her inside.

  “How do you feel about a lazy stroll in the snow, Pokey?” she asked as she approached the Appaloosa’s stall, petting the horse’s nose. “I know Sampson’s ready anytime.”

  “Don’t let her kid you, Pokey,” Slade added from behind Shelly. “Good grief, now you’ve got me doing it.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Talking to the animals.”

  “They often show human characteristics.” Shelly defended both their actions. “It’s only natural to express one’s feelings to ‘almost’ humans.”

  “In which case we’re in trouble. Pokey is going to have a lot to say about how I feel when I climb on her back.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “Sure, but will Pokey?”

  “You both will. Now stop worrying.”

  When Shelly brought out the riding tack, Slade walked around the small barn, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He did what he could to help Shelly saddle the two horses. Mostly he moved around her awkwardly, looking doubtful and ambivalent.

  When she’d finished, she led the horses out of the barn. Holding on to the reins, she motioned for Slade to mount first. “Will you need any help?” she asked. Slade looked so different from the staid executive she’d met in Portland that she had trouble remembering that this was the same man. The one facing her now was clearly out of his element and nothing like the unflappable man on the airplane.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, reaching for the saddle and trying to follow Shelly’s directions. Without much difficulty he swung his bulk onto Pokey’s back. The horse barely stirred.

  Looking pleased with himself, Slade smiled down at Shelly. “I suppose you told her to be gentle with me.”

  “I did,” she teased in return. Double-checking the cinch, she asked, “Do you need me to adjust the stirrups or anything?”

  “No.” Slade shifted his weight slightly and accepted the reins she handed him. “I’m ready anytime you are.”

  Shelly mounted with an ease that spoke of years in the saddle. “It’s going to be a rough ride until we get under the cover of the trees. Follow me.”

  “Anywhere.”

  Shelly was sure that she’d misunderstood him. “What did you say?” she asked, twisting around.

  “Nothing.” But he was grinning, and Shelly found him so devastatingly appealing that it demanded all her willpower to turn around and lead the way.

  She took the path that led them through the woods. Gusts of swift wind blew the snow from the trees. The swirling flakes were nearly as bad as the storm had been. Even Pokey protested at having to be outside.

  “Shelly,” Slade said, edging the Appaloosa to Sampson’s side. “This may not have been the most brilliant idea. Maybe we should head back.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “I don’t want you catching a cold on my account.”

  “I’m as snug as a bug in a rug.”

  “Liar,” he purred softly.

  “I want you to have something to remember me by.” She realized she sounded like some lovesick romantic. He would be gone soon, and she must realize that she probably would never see him again.

  “Like what? Frostbite?”

  Shelly laughed. The musical sound of it was carried by the wind and seemed to echo in the trees around them. “How can you complain? This is wonderful. Riding along like this makes me want to sing.”

  Slade grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

  “What are you complaining about now?”

  “Who says I’m complaining?”

  Shelly grinned, her head bobbing slightly with the gentle sway of Sampson’s gait. “I’m beginning to know you.”

  “All right, if you insist upon knowing. I happen to be humming. My enthusiasm for this venture doesn’t compel me to burst into song. But I’m doing the best I can.”

  Holding on to this contented feeling, Shelly tried not to think about what would happen when they reached the Wilkenses’. She was prepared to smile at him and bid him farewell. Freely she would send him out of her life. But it had been easier before she’d been in his arms and experienced the gentle persuasiveness of his kiss. So very much easier.

  Together, their horses side by side, they ambled along, not speaking but singing Christmas songs one after the other until they were breathless and giddy. Their voices blended magically in two-part harmony. More than once they shared a lingering gaze. But Shelly felt her high spirits evaporating as they neared the landmark that pointed out the first half of their short journey.

  “My backside is ready for a break,” Slade announced unexpectedly.

  “You aren’t nearly as anxious to scoff at my picnic idea now, are you?” Shelly returned.

  “Not when I’m discovering on what part of their anatomy cowboys get calluses.” A grin slashed his sensuous mouth.

  They paused in a small clearing, looping the horses’ reins around the trunk of a nearby fir tree.

  While Shelly took the hot chocolate and cookies from her saddlebags, Slade exercised his stiff legs, walking around as though he were on a pair of stilts.

  “We’ll have to share a cup,” she announced, holding out the plastic top of the thermos to Slade. She stood between the two horses, munching on a large oatmeal cookie.

  Slade lifted the cup to his lips and hesitated as their eyes met. He paused, slowly lowering the cup without breaking eye contact.

  Shelly’s breath came in shallow gasps. “Is something wrong?” she asked with difficulty.

  “You’re lovely.”

  “Sure.” She forced a laugh. “My nose looks like a maraschino cherry and—”

  “Don’t joke, Shelly. I mean it.” His voice was gruff, almost harsh.

  “Then thank you.”

  He removed his glove and placed his warm hand on her cold face, cupping her cheek. The moment was tender and peaceful, and Shelly swallowed the surging emotion that clogged her throat. It would be the easiest thing in the world to walk into his arms, lose herself in his kiss, and love him the way he deserved to be loved.

  As if reading her thoughts, Sampson shifted, bumping Shelly’s back so that she was delivered into Slade’s arms. He dropped the hot chocolate and hauled her against him like a man reaching out a desperate hand in need.

  “I told myself this wouldn’t happen again,” he whispered against her hair. “Every time I hold you, it becomes harder to let you go.”

  Shelly’s heart gave a small leap of pleasure at his words. She didn’t want him to let her go. Not ever. Everything felt right between them. Too right and too good.

  How long he held her, Shelly didn’t know. Far longer than was necessary and not nearly long enough. Each second seemed elongated, sustaining her tender heart for the moment she must bid him farewell.

  Not until they broke apart did Shelly notice that it was snowing again. Huge crystal-like flakes filled the sky with their icy purity.

  “What should we do?” Slade asked, looking doubtful.

  Her first instinct was to suggest that they return to the house, but she hesitated. Delaying the inevitable became more difficult every minute.

  “We’re going back,” he said, answering his own question.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not leaving you and your father to deal with the horses. It’s bad enough that I dragged you this far.” Placing his foot in the stirrup, he reached for the saddle and mounted the Appaloosa. “Come on, before this snow gets any worse.”

  “But we can make it to the Wilkenses’.”

  “Not now.” He raised his eyes skyward and scowled. “It’s already getting dark.”

  Grumbling, she tugged Sampson’s reins free of the tree trunk and lifted her body onto his back with the agile grace of a ballerina.

  * * *

  —

  The house was in sight when Slade spoke again. “After you call the Wilkenses, I need to contact Margaret. She’s waiting for my phone call. I told her I’d call Christmas Eve.”

  Shelly’s heart constricted at the mention of the other woman’s name. Unless Shelly asked about his fiancée, Slade hadn’t volunteered any information about Margaret. Now he freely thrust her between them.

  “Naturally, I’ll use my credit card.”

  He seemed to feel her lack of response was due to the expense. Shelly almost preferred to think that. “Naturally,” she echoed.

  “She’s a good woman.”

  Shelly didn’t know who he was trying to convince. “I don’t think you’d love a woman who wasn’t.”

  “I’ve known Margaret a long time.”

  “Of course you have.” And he’d known Shelly for only a few days. She understood what he was saying. It was almost as if he were apologizing because Margaret had prior claim to his loyalties and his heart. He needn’t; she’d accepted that from the beginning.

  When they left the cover of the woods, Shelly spoke, managing to keep her voice level and unemotional. “You use the phone first,” she said, surprised that her voice could remain so even. “I’ll take care of the horses so you can make your call in private.”

  “I won’t talk long.”

  Shelly didn’t want him to tell her that. “Don’t cut the conversation short on my account.”

  He wiped his forearm across his brow. The movement brought her attention to the confusion in his eyes. “I won’t.”

  * * *

  —

  At the barn, Shelly dismounted slowly, lowering both booted feet to the ground. She avoided his gaze as she opened the barn doors and led the horses through. The wind followed her inside the dimly lit area. The cold nipped at her heels.

  With a heavy heart she lifted the saddle from Pokey’s back before she noticed Slade’s dark form blocking the doorway. Her hands tightened around the smooth leather of the saddle. “Is there a problem?”

  “No.”

  After leading Pokey to her stall, Shelly turned back to Slade only to find that he’d left.

  Taking extra time with the horses, she delayed entering the house as long as possible. Removing the gloves from her hands one finger at a time, she walked in the back door to discover Slade sitting in the living room, staring blindly into the roaring fire. She walked quickly to the phone and called the Wilkenses. Connie was glad to hear from her. After a full day driving neighbors around in the snow, Ted was exhausted. Shelly assured her friend that Slade had changed his mind anyway.

  “I don’t know about you,” she called out cheerfully after hanging up the phone, “but I’m starved.” The tip of her tongue burned with questions that pride refused to let her ask. Shelly possessed the usual female curiosity about Margaret and what Slade had said, if anything, about his current circumstances.

  “How about popcorn with lots of melted butter?”

  Slade joined her, a smile lurking at the edges of his full mouth. His eyes were laughing, revealing his thoughts. He really did have wonderful eyes, and for a moment, Shelly couldn’t look away.

  “I was thinking of something more like a triple-decker sandwich,” Slade inserted.

  “You know what your problem is, Garner?” It was obvious he didn’t, so she took it upon herself to tell him. “No imagination.”

  “Because I prefer something meatier than popcorn?”

  Shelly pretended not to hear him; her head was buried in the open refrigerator. Without comment she brought out a variety of fixings and placed them on the tabletop.

  She peeled off a slice of deli ham, tore it in two, and gave Slade half. “How about a compromise?”

  He looked dubious, sure she was about to suggest a popcorn sandwich. “I don’t know…”

  “How about if you bring in the tree while I fix us something to eat?”

  “That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

  Singing softly as she worked, Shelly concocted a meal neither of them was likely to forget. Sandwiches piled high with three different kinds of meat, sliced dill pickles, and juicy green olives. In addition, she set out Christmas cookies and thick slices of fudge that her father had sitting around the kitchen.

  Slade set the tree in the holder, dragged it through the front door, and stood it in the corner. “The snow’s stopped,” he told her when she carried in their meal.

  “That’s encouraging. I was beginning to think we’d be forced to stay until the spring thaw.” Shelly wouldn’t have minded, and her smile was a mixture of chagrin and ruefulness.

  Sitting crisscross in front of the fireplace, their backs resting against the sofa, they dug in to the sandwiches. But Shelly discovered that she had little appetite. Never had she been more aware of a man. They were so close that, when she lowered her sandwich to the plate, her upper arm brushed against his. But neither made any effort to move. The touch, although impersonal, was soothing. She paused, wishing to capture this moment of peacefulness.

  “This has been a good day,” Slade murmured, his gaze following hers as he stared out the living room window.

  “It’s certainly been crazy.”

  Slade’s hand reached for hers, entwining their fingers. “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed one more.” His dark gaze flickered over her and rested on her mouth. Abruptly he glanced away, his gaze moving to the piano at the far side of the room. “Do you play?”

  Shelly sighed expressively. “A little. Dad claimed that my playing is what kept the mice out of the house.”

  A dark brow lifted with a touch of amusement. “That bad?”

  “See for yourself.” Rising, she walked to the piano, lifted the lid of the bench seat, and extracted some Christmas music.

  Pressing her fingers to the ivory keys, the discordant notes were enough to make her wince and cause Ol’ Dan to lift his chin and cock his head curiously. He howled once.

  “I told you I wasn’t any good,” she said with a dramatic sigh. Staring at the musical notes a second time, she squinted and sadly shook her head.

  Slade joined her. Standing directly behind her, he laid his hands on her shoulders, leaning over to study the music.

  “This may be the problem,” she stated seriously. Dimples formed in her cheeks as she tried not to smile. Turning the sheet music right side up, she leaned forward to study the notes a second time and tried again. This time the sweet melody flowed through the house.