Chapter Fifteen

D amn him, he was going after her gear! She knew it because he hadn’t actually promised that he wouldn’t—apparently thinking that if he didn’t lie to her, she might start trusting him again.

He’d obviously forgotten about lies of omission.

Megan settled back on the bed of fir boughs he had made after he’d built the fire, and opened his jacket to feel the heat on her neck and chest. She cupped her belly in her hands. “Oh, baby,” she whispered. “I nearly killed us both trying to avoid that…that thing. No, make that all three of us, because Jack would have died trying to save you and me.”

She scooted closer to the fire. “So what do you think?” she asked her belly. “Is Jack Stone the sort of man we want in our lives? I think he really does love me.” She patted her belly. “He definitely loves you. I can’t count the times I’ve caught him staring at my stomach. You’d think he’s never seen a pregnant woman before.”

She picked up a stick and poked at the fire. “He said he used to have a brother—is he dead, or are they just estranged?” She unzipped the bib of her ski pants, hoping it would help her bra dry. “He must have died, if Jack wants to name you after him. I was planning to name you after my uncle Ian if you’re a boy, but maybe we can compromise. Are you feeling cozy in there, baby, like your daddy said?”

Could a fetus even catch a cold, or had Jack only been trying to distract her? Megan leaned to the side and looked out at the lake again. She could just make out the position of his sled because the moon was reflecting off its windshield. She couldn’t, however, see any shadow moving around it.

A violent shiver wracked her at the thought of Jack trying to retrieve her gear. That water was so numbingly cold, and she’d come so close to dying. She’d been so surprised when that…that…

What in hell was that creature? It had looked like a dragon. But they were reptilian, not amphibious, weren’t they? She snorted, settling back in front of the fire and picking up the stick again. “They aren’t either, you crazy woman, because dragons do not exist.”

Unless…

Kenzie! He’d seen the creature, too! Hell, he’d been close enough to catch its odor. She had smelled the same rank odor on his clothes that she’d smelled in the air tonight, just before she’d hit the water. Which meant Kenzie did have something to do with whatever was breaking into the shops in town.

And he was probably the man who had attacked Jack that night; the guy Robbie had chased off. Then Robbie had followed his tracks and would have caught up with him—which meant her cousin also knew what was going on.

It was the damn magic . It had to be.

Kenzie had been a panther for the last three years, before Winter and Matt had turned him back into a man on the winter solstice. So why couldn’t the magic conjure up a dragon? Hell, it could turn the sky green if it had a mind to. Providence—which was the real force behind the magic—was even capable of creating an entirely new tree of life, which it had done by combining Matt’s oak and Winter’s pine. A dragon was mere child’s play!

“Oh God,” she groaned. “What am I going to tell Jack?”

The man wasn’t blind; he had seen exactly what she had, and eventually he was going to want to talk about it. That creature was breaking into the town shops, so wouldn’t Jack want to let the citizens know he was closing in on the culprit?

Speaking of which, why was it breaking into the shops? It had only stolen doughnuts and candy bars, according to what Jack and Camry had said. But it had looked like it was eating a fish tonight, when it had suddenly appeared in her headlights. Had it been using the open water next to the ledge as a fishing hole? She’d have to check that out first thing in the morning, before they were rescued.

Okay, she needed a plan. She was going to have to persuade Jack that what they’d seen was some sort of anomaly, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster. Yeah, she’d tell him that Pine Lake was so vast and deep, it had its very own mystery creature.

But she didn’t have anything to back up her story. There hadn’t been any other reported sightings, and the Loch Ness monster and Bigfoot were well-established, ongoing legends.

Maybe she could imply the creature was new to the area. She snorted. Yeah, she could just see herself saying, “Isn’t this exciting? We’re the first ones to sight it! We’ll make the national news!”

No, the quieter they kept this, the better. Her father and uncles had managed to keep the magic a secret for nearly forty years, and her generation had to continue keeping it a secret. She’d just have to persuade Jack that they shouldn’t speak to anyone about what they saw tonight; not even anyone in her family. It would be their little secret.

He might go for that, if he thought sharing a secret would bring the two of them closer together.

Megan checked her clothes on the branches and discovered that her turtleneck and silk top were dry, but that her sweater still had a long way to go. She slipped off her jacket and slid the bib of Jack’s pants off her shoulders, then decided to take off her bra since the back elastic wasn’t drying. She pulled the two jerseys on over her head, rezipped the bib, and slipped back into the jacket. She’d already taken off the shirt he had wrapped around her head, and she turned it on the branch so the back would dry, sure he would need it when he returned.

She crawled past the fire enough to see the lake again. How long had he been gone? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? And how in hell was she supposed to rescue him without her boots?

Megan sat back and eyed the bottoms of the ski pants she was wearing. They were made of thick leather and were long enough that she could tie the ends closed and walk with her feet inside them. She gazed around camp trying to spot something to tie them with, that wouldn’t break after only ten steps.

Her bra! She could use the straps.

She snatched the bra off the branch and tried ripping a strap off one of the cups. That wasn’t happening. She looped it over her foot and pulled, but the only thing that ripped was the satin cup. She searched for a couple of rocks, then had to use a stick to free them from the frozen ground. She set the end of the strap on one rock and beat it with the other.

“Come on, you stupid thing,” she growled, pounding the double-stitched material. “I have to go save Jack.”

It was a good thing she was only a C cup; anything bigger would probably be quadruple-stitched! Figuring she’d mangled the material enough to weaken it, she looped it over her foot again and pulled. It gave with a sudden tear that sent her flying backward.

She scrambled upright and did the same to the other strap, then pounded the tiny metal rings on the back until they broke. She finally dangled the freed straps in front of her. “Am I my father’s daughter, or what?” she said proudly. “I should have my own ‘Survivor-woman’ show on the Discovery Channel!”

She was just leaning forward to tie the bottom of her pants closed when she heard Jack approaching at a hurried pace. Megan shoved the straps in her pocket, grabbed her mangled bra and looked around, then simply tossed it in the fire. She lay down on the bed of fir boughs and closed her eyes, sleepily fluttering them open when he strode into camp.

“That didn’t take long,” she said, stretching with a fake yawn, watching him drop his heavy load of gear.

He hunched down in front of the fire and held his hands to its warmth, glancing at her out the corner of his eye. Yup, his hair was soaked and had started to freeze, and every inch of visible skin was covered with goose bumps.

“Did you fall in the slush? Your hair’s wet,” she pointed out, ignoring the fact that his clothes were dry.

He stiffened. “No.” He pushed a log deeper into the flames a bit more roughly than necessary.

A blind man couldn’t miss her dry sack sitting on the ground, even though he’d tried to hide it by throwing her wet snowsuit on top. Then again, maybe he was grumpy because he was freezing.

“Did you remember the cocoa?”

He gave her a suspicious glance, then reached under her wet snowmobile suit, pulled out the Thermos, and tossed it to her. He picked up several more sticks and shoved them in the fire, only to suddenly stop in mid-shove. He used the stick in his hand to lift something out of the flame, which he held up between them.

Megan realized it was the charred remains of her bra. She snapped her head around to look up at the branch the clothes were hanging on. “Well, jeez,” she said in disgust, looking back at her bra with a frown. “It must have fallen into the fire.”

Jack eyed the distance from the branch to the fire, then lifted one brow, implying the bra would have needed wings to reach that far.

Megan opened the Thermos and drank directly from it, then wiped her mouth with the sleeve of Jack’s leather jacket. “Can you get your sled unstuck?”

“Not without a block and tackle and two hundred yards of rope,” he said, still eyeing her suspiciously.

It was killing him that she wasn’t reading him the riot act—she’d have to remember this strategy in the future.

“I went after your survival gear,” he growled.

“Was the water very deep?”

He eyed her again. “Just over my head.”

Megan took off his jacket. “Here, slip this on. It’s already warmed up.”

“No, you keep it.”

“I’m actually starting to feel hot,” she countered, tossing it to him. She turned and pulled his shirt off the branch and tossed that at him, too. “Wipe your hair dry. And if you hand me the dry sack, I’ll see what goodies we have.”

He pulled the liners out of her soggy boots and set them beside the fire to dry, then stood up, picked up her snowsuit, and draped it over another branch, then he finally set the dry sack beside her. He slipped into his jacket and obediently started wiping his hair with his shirt.

Megan took pity on him; he was cold and tired, and adding tension to that mix was cruel. “Look, I know we needed my gear if we have to spend the night out here. I…I just didn’t want anything to happen to you,” she whispered, feeling her face flush—and not due to the roaring fire.

He stopped wiping his hair.

She shrugged, hoping to appear more nonchalant than she felt. “I guess I’ve gotten used to having you around this past week.”

“I’m not going away, Megan.”

“I know.”

He came over and sat beside her on the boughs, taking her hands and holding them in his. “I need to talk to you about what I said that day I sent you away.”

She tried to pull back, but he held firm.

“I didn’t mean it, Megan. I’d walk through the fires of hell before I’d ask you to do that.”

“I know.”

“What do you mean, you know?”

“I figured that out about five minutes after my plane took off. I was looking down at the nesting sites we’d been working together, and realized that anyone who handled those goslings and eggs the way you did wouldn’t ask me to end my pregnancy.”

He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I knew you wouldn’t do it. But nothing I said was working, so I decided to make you hate me so much you’d pack up and leave on the supply plane that very day,” he whispered into her hair.

“It worked.”

His embrace tightened. “I am so damned sorry for what I put you through.”

“And I’m sorry I realized what you were doing too late.”

He leaned back to look her in the eyes. “I love you, Megan. When I first arrived on the tundra and you greeted me, I felt like I was being run over by a herd of caribou.”

She opened her mouth, but he pulled her back against him again. “Shhh, just listen. I want you to think about us getting married. We can live here in Pine Creek, or wherever you want. I can work from anywhere.” He cupped her head to his shoulder, stroking her hair. “Don’t answer me right now. I just want you to think about it.”

She tried to pull away to speak.

“Shhh,” he said again, holding her in what was starting to feel like a desperate hug. “Just let what I said sink in for a while. Just…just give me a chance.”

She mumbled into his shoulder, but he just squeezed her tighter. The poor guy was shaking like a leaf, and Megan suspected it had nothing to do with his dip in the lake—despite his feeling as icy as a wet polar bear. She gave up trying to explain that he was making her cold all over again, and wrapped her arms around his waist inside his jacket to share what little heat she had left.

The baby gave a sharp kick.

“Holy hell,” Jack said, jerking back to stare down at her belly. “He just kicked me!”

“He does that sometimes,” she said, smiling at his shocked expression. She reached out and took his hand and set it on her stomach. “Wait a minute and he’ll do it again. Damn, now you’ve got me calling it a him!”

As if on cue, her belly started thumping like a snare drum. Jack laughed out loud and bent down and kissed the spot where the baby was kicking—then just as suddenly straightened, his face a dull red. He scrambled back to the fire and started stoking it again, even though it was roaring brightly enough to be seen from space.

Megan leaned back against the tree with a smile, running her fingers softly over her belly. Here was the man she’d fallen in love with on the tundra. Whenever he’d worked up the nerve to kiss her, he would turn red, get sort of clumsy, and all but apologize. One time after kissing her senseless, he’d turned and walked straight into the tent pole, bringing the entire canvas down on top of them. She was beginning to suspect his nerdiness wasn’t an act after all, since Jack Stone didn’t appear to have any more finesse than Wayne Ferris.

She was glad the nerd hadn’t disappeared completely.

Apparently realizing he was about to start a forest fire, Jack turned his attention to the dry sack. He pulled out a mess kit, a neatly coiled rope, a hatchet, some power bars, and a small plastic container. Megan knew the container held fishing line, a mirror and compass, several lighters, and an ozone light stick to purify water for drinking.

“No radio?” he said, pulling out the sleeping bag and peering inside the empty sack.

Megan shrugged. “We always carry the satellite phone. Besides, that sack is rarely ever opened because we rarely get into this kind of trouble.” She looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack. I should have listened to you about not traveling back on the lake. I was being stubborn and stupid.”

He unrolled the sleeping bag and shook it open, then motioned for her to move so he could lay it out over the boughs. “You’re not in an exclusive club, sweetheart. We’d be here at least a week if I listed all my transgressions.” He sat down beside her. “Don’t ever apologize for following your passion, Megan. That’s what I love the most about you.”

“My passion?”

“Your passion for life, sweetheart. I swear you actually glow with energy when you get involved in something.” He turned to face her, his expression almost eager. “So what first attracted you to me? Be honest, now.”

Good Lord, he really didn’t have a clue, did he? No guy in his right mind asked a woman that. “Honestly?” she clarified.

He nodded very seriously.

“Your size.”

It apparently took a moment for that to assimilate before he suddenly turned away and started messing with the fire again.

“Hey—you asked for my honest answer, and I was first attracted to your size,” she told his broad, muscular back. She rolled her eyes, since he couldn’t see her. “It’s not like you’re puny or anything. You’re just not supertall. Why are you so sensitive about your height, anyway?”

“I’m not. Or I wasn’t until I met your family,” he muttered. “With your gene pool, my son will be looking down his nose at me by the time he’s twelve.” Megan immediately wiped the grin off her face when he glanced over his shoulder at her. “You little brat,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re laughing at me.”

She immediately shook her head, then ended up nodding. “But in a sweet way. And only because I don’t get why you’re being so sensitive.” She rolled her eyes right at him this time. “What sort of guy asks a question like that, anyway?”

“I thought women liked sensitive men. Aren’t you always complaining that we don’t talk about our feelings?”

Well, he didn’t seem frozen to death any more. In fact, he looked rather hot. And sexy. And desirable. “I think we should go to bed,” she blurted out without thinking.

He pretty near fell in the fire, scrambling to his feet. “I’m going to get some more firewood. Hit the bushes if you need to, then go to bed.” He started to leave, then turned back. “Damn, I forgot you don’t have any boots.”

He walked over to the pile of gear he’d brought back from his own sled, and tossed her a pair of socks. Megan noticed that he’d also brought the two full bottles of beer as well as one of the empties. He picked up an empty bottle and shoved it in his jacket pocket—his hand re-emerging with her bra straps.

“Okay,” she finally admitted. “If you must know, I destroyed my bra to tie my pants closed at the bottom so I could walk.”

He tossed the straps at her with a laugh. “Good idea. At least your little swim didn’t freeze your brain,” he said. “After you put on the socks, go ahead and tie the pants closed. That should keep the socks dry while you to go to the bathroom. I might be gone a few minutes, but I’ll stay within shouting distance. I need to find a spring for drinking water.”

“That’s about as easy as finding a needle in a haystack, especially in the dark.”

“I have a hunch there’s one close by,” he said, walking out of camp.

Once again left staring at the spot where he disappeared, Megan decided that Jack’s hunches were starting to annoy her. Ninety percent accurate, her ass. She was lucky if her hunches were right half the time.

She didn’t bother putting on the socks or tying her pant bottoms closed, since she was going to have to take off the damn suit anyway. She walked a couple of yards past the tree while staying within sight of the fire, which only served to create more treacherous shadows than light her way. She stubbed her toe, cursed a bit, and hopped from foot to freezing foot with gritted teeth. She’d give her right arm for male plumbing for just five minutes!

She did her duty and ran stumbling back into camp without bothering to put the ski pants back on. She crawled up on the sleeping bag and stuck her feet in front of the fire, again gritting her teeth when they started to prickle as they thawed.

She finally put on Jack’s socks, hung up his ski pants, and checked to see if her own pants were dry. They weren’t, but she hadn’t intended to put them on yet, anyway. She balled his slightly damp shirt up for a pillow, lay down, and pulled the edge of the sleeping bag over her bare legs.

She finally closed her eyes with a smile, listening to branches snapping and rotten logs quietly breaking as Jack gathered their night supply of fuel. So he liked her passion, did he? Well, she’d show him some passion. The man had to go to sleep sometime tonight.

He returned twenty minutes later, set down the wood, and surveyed camp. “You’re not wearing the ski pants,” he said, eyeing them on the branch.

“I thought it would be warmer if we don’t wear much clothing, so our body heat can transfer to each other.”

He sat down beside her and took off his boots, placing them within reach. He then pulled a compact revolver from the back waist of his pants and tucked it inside one of the boots.

Megan scooted over to make room for him to lie down. “You should take off your pants. They’re damp.”

He hesitated, eyeing her over his shoulder. “We’re going to have to snuggle.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re a very good snuggler.”

His cheeks flushed deep red. He quickly stood and dropped his pants but left his long johns on. “Scoot toward the fire. I’ll sleep in the back.”

“But then you’ll get the edge of the sleeping bag to cover up with.” It was only a single bag, and opened up, there wasn’t enough material to both lie on and cover up with.

He picked her up when she didn’t move fast enough and set her down closer to the fire. “You’ll have me covering you,” he said, crawling in behind her and on his side so they were spooned together.

He wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her belly protectively, tucked his legs over hers, and settled down with a tired sigh. Megan stared into the roaring fire, listening as his breathing slowly evened out, and she knew he had fallen asleep. What was it with guys, that they could simply sleep on demand?

She wasn’t so lucky, as her mind kept flitting from one thought to another. She thought about Kenzie and the creature they’d seen, and about Mark Collins and her samples he apparently wanted. And she thought about Jack’s proposal, her heart telling her to go for it, and her practical left brain cautioning her to wait until she got the report from the investigator.

But then she thought about the two months she’d shared with Jack on the tundra, and how they had been the happiest two months of her life.

Megan finally turned in his embrace and whispered, “Make love to me, Jack.”