Free King of the Mountain by Fran Baker

her into his arms. “Go for a walk.”
    A walk wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. But renewing his determination to go slow and easy with her, he settled for what he could get.
    They headed in the opposite direction from the creek.
    “It’s hard to believe this used to be a spoil bank,” Kitty said as they climbed the clover-covered slope that had resembled a moonscape in her youth.
    Ben looked at the land critically. He couldn’t begin to guess how much money the company had sunk into its reclamation efforts these past twenty-five years. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
    “I grew up in a company house not a stone’s throw from here. On rainy days we used the spoil bank for a mud slide.” She smiled, thinking of how simple life was back then.
    “We bulldozed those houses years ago.” He frowned, wondering how those old eyesores had stood as long as they had. “As I recall, they didn’t even have running water.”
    Now she wrinkled her nose at him. “We had all the water we could run ’n’ fetch.”
    His laughter boomed to the hills and back; hers rang out as crystal clear as the weather.
    “You’re something, Kitty Reardon, you really are.”
    So are you, Ben Cooper
, she thought.
So are you.
    Leaves crunched underfoot as they approached the old strip mine area that had been returned to woods. Squirrels scampered from oak tree to hickory, gathering their winter’s store of nuts. Autumn sunlight wove its way through the bared branches to the forest’s carpeted floor.
    “I haven’t been back here in years.” Kitty was awed by the transformation. “It’s beautiful!”
    A wry grin twisted Ben’s sensual mouth. “Just goes to show you what time, nature, and a million dollars can do.”
    She made a tsking sound. “This from the man who buys Blazers at the drop of a hat?”
    “More like at the drop off a mountain,” he reminded her dryly.
    They lapsed into a thoughtful silence as they wandered deeper into the woods, pausing to watch a whitetail buck munching on acorns before it caught their scent and bolted away.
    When he reached up and plucked a lone scarlet leaf from a tree branch, she allowed herself a brief survey of his lean, powerful build. Her gaze ranged from a set of shoulders that threatened the seams of his sweater to the narrowness of his hips, then moved down those long athletic legs.
    A squirrel scolded her from on high.
    Ben turned and—not for the first time—caught her staring at him with hungry blue eyes. Slowly then, ever so slowly, he backed her up against the trunk of the tree and raised the hand that held the leaf.
    A crow cried its plaintive alarm.
    Kitty didn’t cringe, but she did keep a careful watch on the hand coming toward her. The striated bark scraped her back through her sweater as memories surged up from the past and walloped her in the chest.
    In a gesture more tender than any she’d ever known, he slid the stem of the scarlet leaf behind her ear. Then he braced his palms on the tree trunk and lowered his gaze to her trembling lips only seconds before he lowered his head.
    She realized he was going to kiss her and went stiff as a board. “Ben—”
    “Don’t be afraid, Kitty,” he whispered against her open lips, then closed his mouth over hers.
    If he’d forced her, she’d have fought him—a conditioned reflex on her part. But he seduced her with brushing and teasing and feathering rather than plundering. The tangy scent of his bay rum enveloped her senses, and in the dim recesses of her mind she realized she was her own worst enemy.
    She kept her arms at her sides and curled her fingers into small fists of resistance, battling a sudden need to reach around his neck and findout if his hair was as thick and springy as it looked.
    How long could she hold out against that masterful mouth and tempting tongue? Heaven help her, how long could she hold out against herself?
    Ben knew the exact moment when he’d broken through her guard and touched off