growl that caused a surprising spark of response in Lainie's blood.
When she was steady, he drew away from her, leaving her colder and lonelier than she'd been a second before. "You make the fire. I'll get us something to eat."
She watched his shadow glide through the grayness of the night as he set about the chores of preparing the horses for the evening.
Lainie limped around the clearing, gathering sticks and roots. Then she piled them in a perfect Girl Scout heap and set it afire. Within moments, a hardy puff of smoke spiraled into the night. She felt as if she'd just won the Pulitzer.
"I did it!"
He glanced over at her, and even in the darkness, she could see the surprise on his face.
"Okay, okay," she said, feeling like an idiot, "so it's not brain surgery, but for a woman from the city, it's pretty good. After all, I haven't used anything but Presto logs in years."
There was a long silence, then, "I think it's best if we don't talk." He tossed his bedroll down by the fire. It landed with a dusty smack and rolle
d sideways.
Lainie felt a sharp sting of longing. She stared at the sleeping bag, imagining its warmth around her aching body. She thought about stretching out, going to sleep, waking up. ...
Then reality hit. She realized what she was looking at?and what she was not looking at. "There's only one."
He shrugged. "That's all I ever need."
One sleeping bag: two bodies. Perfect. She shook her head. "Just my luck. This dream turns hot and sexy when I feel as if I've been run over by a Mack truck."
"Nothing's getting hot and sexy, lady."
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Lainie laughed bitterly at his response. It was a new low; even men in her dreams found her unappealing. "Don't sound so scared, Killian. I'm not going to rape you."
"I didn't think you were."
"A gentleman would offer his bedroll to a lady."
This time it was he who laughed.
"It's not funny," she snapped.
"We can share it."
"Yeah, we could...." The words tasted bitter on her tongue. Lainie frowned. She didn't want to bed down with Mr. Macho. She wanted to stretch out and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep?a sleep from which she could wake up.
He untied the bedroll and flipped it out along the cold, bumpy ground.
Lainie winced. She had trouble going to sleep on her Serta. This was going to be impossible. "That's it?" she said with an irritated sigh. "Just a sleeping bag on the dirt? Where's your tent?"
"I only bother with a tent when it rains. Now ..." He patted the bag. "You want the top or the bottom?"
She ignored his ill attempt at humor and glanced again at the makeshift bed. Her choices were limited. It was either kill him or share his bedroll.
She wondered how she could kill him.
She couldn't sleep with him. She couldn't sleep with anyone; she never had been able to. It was one of the by-products of a lifetime of being alone. Oh, she'd had sex with men?more than a few, and for most of them, men was a ridiculous compliment. But she hadn't slept with them.
The thought of sharing a bedroll with Killian made her feel queasy and unsettled. She chewed on her lower lip, looking away from the thin bag and the large man.
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