Free If There Be Dragons by Kay Hooper Page B

reassured herself silently, were very human things. They didn’t cause electric shocks; therefore, she hadn’t felt an electric shock when Cody’s lips had touched her hand. Period. It was all her imagination. She shifted restlessly. “Cody—”
    “The wind’s dying down, don’t you think?” He cut her off with ruthless intent.
    “No. No, it acts like that up here sometimes. Like the eye of a hurricane, or something. It’ll probably pick back up in a few minutes.” She hesitated. “Cody—”
    “D’you think this storm will turn into an actual blizzard?” he asked casually, cutting her off yet again. “I’ve never been through a blizzard before.”
    Brooke gave him a frustrated look, making one weak and fruitless attempt to pull her hand from his grasp. “You don’t go
through
a blizzard unless you’re out in it; if you’re lucky enough to be indoors, you just wait it out. And, yes, it sounds like a blizzard to me.”
    “Good,” Cody said with every evidence of satisfaction.
    “Good? Cody—”
    “I’ve always wanted to be snowbound.”
    “
Will
you let me finish a sentence?” she demanded irritably.
    “Sorry.” Golden eyes that were fathoms deep and impossibly limpid gazed into hers. “You were saying?”
    With a tremendous effort Brooke tore her gaze away and stared into the fire. Why did she suddenly feel that she’d been pulled into those golden pools and sucked under? “I forgot,” she murmured. Truthfully. What had she been about to say? Protest. That was it. She’d been about to protest his hand-holding business. But it didn’t seem important now.
    Feeling mildly pleased by his victory in the small and silent skirmish, Cody surged ahead in an effort to hold on to his lead. “Are we completely cut off from civilization, barring the radio and the Sno-Cat?” he asked interestedly.
    Absently Brooke said, “Until they repair the phone line. Since you fixed the generator, we can do without electricity from town. And we have enough provisions to last the winter; I always stock in the fall.”
    “How long d’you think the storm will last?”
    “Could be days.” Her own words prompted misgivings, but Brooke ignored them; worrying wouldn’t change anything. “Storm systems can be tricky up here in the mountains. It’s almost as if they turn in on themselves and grow more powerful instead of weaker.”
    Cody looked at her for a long moment, suddenly realizing something. “There are no guests coming next week, are there?” he asked gently.
    Brooke wasn’t surprised; she shook her head slightly. “No. Because of the weather, I rarely take guests this time of year. I just told you that hoping you’d leave.”
    “And now?”
    “And now what?” She refused to look at him.
    “Are you glad I stayed?”
    Lightly she asked, “Fishing?”
    “Fishing.”
    Brooke was afraid to meet his clear golden eyes, afraid that his gaze would pull the truth out of her. His very presence was tugging at her now, demanding truth. Demanding honesty. And she wanted to scream at him suddenly for demanding anything of her.
    “Never mind, Brooke.” Intuitively Cody sensed her abrupt resistance, the flare of emotions. He silently cursed himself for pushing; they had a long way to go yet. He squeezed her hand lightly and then released it. “It’s been a—long and eventful day. Why don’t we turn in?”
    Silent, she rose to her feet, reaching for the crutches and handing them to him. Her hand felt strangely alone without the warmth of his, cold and alone. But she didn’t want to think of that. She concentrated on the wall of the wind and on the wolf lying on the bearskin rug.
    “He’ll be alone again,” she murmured.
    On his feet and braced by the crutches, Cody looked down at Phantom. “He’ll be all right. He knows where his water is, and he knows we’re in the house with him. He’ll be fine, Brooke.”
    She nodded, preceding Cody from the room. He left her at her door with a quiet good