MM01 - Valley of Fire Read Online Free PDF Page B

mountains, telling of Ko-Kapelli's rage.”
    “You speak with great authority about the Indians.”
    The history teacher in her was showing, and Rick was clever enough to see it. She hastened to make amends.
    “It must be the Indian in me.”
    “You have Indian blood?”
    “Doesn't everybody?” Her bloodlines were as pure as Irish linen. She figured her Irish ancestors were rolling in their graves. A few of the more irate ones might even take up haunting her small cottage in Fulton. It was another price she'd have to pay for deceit.
    “Not me. I'm as Scottish as bagpipes.”
    Relieved that he hadn't pressed about her ancestors and her background, she leaned against the rock and pulled her sweater closer around her neck.
    “Cold?”
    She wasn't about to say yes, because she guessed that at the slightest hint from her that she was cold he'd pull her into his arms, bragging about his gallantry. Steeling herself against the creeping chill, she deliberately unbuttoned her sweater and fanned herself.
    “Goodness no. I guess all that walking has warmed me up.”
    He didn't bother to hide his amusement. His big boom of laughter startled a raven into flight. In one swift move, he tossed a few sticks together and sat down so close, his thigh was brushing against hers.
    “What are you doing?” she asked.
    “Building a fire.”
    “A fire?”
    He chuckled again. “Yes. What did you think I meant to do?”
    “Build a fire, of course.” She scooted away so they were no longer touching. “I was thinking of conserving firewood, myself.”
    “We have enough to last a while.” He flipped his lighter open and held it to the branches. They caught in a small blaze. “Just in case you get cold.” He winked at her.
    The wink nearly did her in. She loved being on the desert at night, and had often camped in this very valley during her teenage years. Having a companion had always doubled the fun. She and her friends used to sit around a campfire and swap Indian legends and ghost stories until the wee hours of the morning.
    But Rick McGill was no teenager, and he certainly didn't have swapping ghost stories on his mind. That bold wink had told her all she needed to know. There was only one way to resist the temptation of that knowing wink.
    She yawned and stretched. “I think I'll turn in. I've had a hard day.” She turned her back to him and stretched out on the rocks, using her arms for a pillow.
    “You can use my shoulder if you like.”
    “No thank you.”
    “Let me know if you change your mind.”
    “I'm very comfortable.”
    Rick wasn't ready for bed. The day had been long and traumatic, and he was still tightly wound up. He leaned against the rocks and gazed out across the Valley of Fire. It was hauntingly beautiful at night, shrouded in purple shadows and lit with random patches of light from the low-hanging moon.
    He swung his gaze to Martha Ann. Her breathing had become regular. She was all tuckered out from her long day of pretending. He smiled as he remembered how she'd flown across the country, worrying her rosary, all the while pretending she wasn't afraid.
    After the crash she'd taken the Valley of Fire like Patton invading Sicily, still pretending to be a pampered rich wife. And now she was curled on the rocks with her back to him, pretending that she was comfortable.
    He drew the line at some things. Cold was one of them. Discomfort was another.
    “Move over, baby. Here comes your Bogey.” Grinning, he lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms spoon fashion. Body heat. He loved it.
    “There now. Isn't that better?”
    She snuggled closer to him and sighed. He grinned as he thought how mortified she'd be if she knew what she was doing.
    She was as soft and cuddly as a golden retriever puppy. As he fitted himself comfortably against her sleeping form, his passion began to rise. He'd expected that. What he hadn't expected was tenderness. A great swell of protective feeling rose up in him. He felt a need