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  They rounded a cluster of boulders. “The place we’re looking for is right around the next bend. Don’t ask me if it was the Tyson party or the Hennessy group who stayed there. Those caves don’t come with a guest registry.”

  She leaned forward in her seat to peer ahead. The sides of the mountain were slabs of sheer rock, and there was little vegetation. “This site doesn’t look like a likely place to shelter from anything,” she said.

  “If they’d had to camp in the open, maybe they all would have died. It gets right cold up here in the winter when the snows come. This trail becomes impassable,” Cord replied, and for the first time, she sensed some sympathy for the plight of the travelers.

  A sharp incline, a sort of ramp, led downward from the flat promontory. Here, Cord parked the Jeep. “We’re going down there,” he said, pointing.

  She paused, her hand on the door handle. “Is it far?”

  “Not very.” He exited the Jeep, went around to the back and tucked some items from the picnic basket into the many pockets of his vest. Brooke took her water bottle and strapped it to her belt.

  “Be careful not to slip,” Cord cautioned as they started down the rocky ramp, and he held her arm tightly as they walked. Brooke was thankful for her sturdy hiking boots, which kept her from slipping on the loose rock. She was also thankful for Cord’s steady grip.

  At the bottom of the incline, she saw a cave opening. It was little more than a fissure in the rock.

  “This is it?” she asked.

  Cord nodded. “I brought a flashlight. We’ll go inside.”

  They had to enter sideways in order to squeeze through the opening. The cave was tall but not roomy. Cord’s flashlight beam revealed a rock-strewn floor and bats nesting above.

  “There’s not much in the way of creature comforts,” Brooke said. She kept a wary eye on the bats, which didn’t seem to notice their presence.

  “There’s a bigger cave farther along,” Cord said.

  They stepped outside. The dark clouds had moved closer, and an ominous growl of thunder reverberated from the far mountain peaks.

  Cord grimaced. “Great. A major storm is all we need.”

  “I didn’t think it rained much in the desert.”

  “Any area that receives fewer than ten inches a year of precipitation and has a high evaporation rate qualifies as a desert. The desert down below—” he jerked a finger back toward where they had come from “—gets about two inches each year. But we’re not in the valley now. We’re in the mountains. There’s something called the rain-shadow effect.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “The storms that sweep in off the Pacific Ocean are loaded with moisture, but these mountains catch much of it before it reaches the desert. Some of the water lands on coastal communities, but a lot of it remains in the clouds, like those up there. When the clouds reach the mountains, there’s nowhere to go but up. The clouds rise—the air cools. Since cold air can’t hold as much water as warm air, the water in the clouds condenses and falls as rain or snow. Bad luck for the Tyson and Hennessy contingents back in 1849, and bad luck for us today.”

  “At least it’s not snow,” Brooke said glumly as she eyed the gray curtains of rain sweeping sideways in the distance. “Say, Cord, do you think maybe we could make it back to the ranch before the storm hits?”

  “Fat chance. We don’t want to get caught in a flash flood in one of the narrow canyons. The storm could still pass over, so let’s check out the other cave,” he said.

  Brooke tried to ignore the lightning in the distance. “All right, we’ll take a look.”

  As she followed Cord along the path toward the second cave, she felt a rush of cold air. The wind was picking up, driving dry bits of grass and leaves up against the face of the mountain.

  The second cave, redolent with the scent of long-ago campfires, was much larger than the first. Cord beamed the flashlight into the cave’s dark recesses.

  “Do you mind if I take a look around the back of the cave?” she asked.

  “I’ll go with you,” he said, but he handed her the flashlight so she could direct its beam wherever she wished.

  The first thing she found was what appeared to be a horseshoe.

  “Mule shoe,” said Cord. Brooke tossed it to one side and continued her search, which turned up a buffalo nickel and a large button that might be made of bone. Further exploration along the back wall revealed the standard graffiti: Kilroy wuz here, and Lisa + Greg, 1972.

  “I can see that this place is far off the beaten track, but not far enough to keep people away,” she said. She saw a narrow opening. “That might be another room,” she said.

  The room was small, and so dark that at first she thought that the graffiti artists had spared this part of the cave. Then her flashlight beam picked out scribbles near the ceiling. The bit of writing had faded but was still legible. “‘Hennessy,’” she read softly after moving closer, “‘1849.’ Cord, come see.”

  He bent into the cramped space, his body brushing hers. “That’s what it says, all right.” She felt his breath against her ear, the warmth of his body close by. She couldn’t help it; her heart speeded up.

  “This must be where the Hennessy group stayed, not the Tyson party,” she said.

  “Local lore says that the Tyson party stayed here,” Cord said. He moved away from her, back into the darkness, and she wondered what would happen if the flashlight went out. Would she move toward him and he toward her? Would they reach out to each other in the dark? She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

  “We’d better check on the storm,” he said, his voice echoing off the cave walls, and silently, she handed him the flashlight. He reached back and took her hand, and she followed him to the cave’s mouth.

  She didn’t need to step outside to know that it had already started to rain. A cold rush of air hissed through the narrow opening, and they heard the rain being whipped against the face of the mountain by a rising wind.

  “No way we want to go out there,” Cord said firmly. “We’ll hang around here for a while and hope it passes quickly.”

  Brooke, thinking that she might as well be comfortable, spread her neckerchief out on the sandy floor and sat on it. “Well,” she said brightly, “I guess I’ll have a rare firsthand understanding of what it was like to hole up in a cave during bad weather.”

  Cord sat down beside her and dug a nectarine out of a pocket. “Want some?”

  She nodded, and he cut the fruit in half. “We’re likely to be here for some time,” he said.

  They ate the nectarine, and after they had finished, Cord stood up and peered at the ceiling. “Let’s build a fire.”

  Brooke scrambled to her feet. “I’ll help carry the wood,” she said.

  Campers had left a decent supply of firewood, and they toted the wood from its storage space in the shadows. Afterward, Cord gathered leaves and small branches that had blown inside and used them for tinder and kindling. As they worked to start the fire, Brooke had to pull her eyes away from his taut biceps, clearly outlined under his shirt. But there wasn’t anyplace else to look in that dim cave, and she found herself studying him in spite of herself. Despite the stiffness that she had noticed when she’d first met him, he moved swiftly, almost gracefully, getting a fire going in no time.

  He sat down beside her. “Is that better?”

  “Much.” The fire, warm on her face, lent an intriguing glow to Cord’s features. By firelight, the deep scar on his chin became a jagged, dark shadow, and suddenly, Brooke wanted nothing so much as to trace it with her fingertip. She wondered if it ached during thunderstorms, or if his back hurt from his injury. These questions seemed too personal to ask.

  The wind was shrieking and howling by this time, and another cacophony of sound arose, one that Brooke didn’t immediately identify.

  “Hail,” Cord said in response to her questioning look. He went to the cave opening and came back carrying a huge hailstone in the palm of his hand
. “Good thing we found shelter,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to be hit by a couple of these.”

  Brooke passed him the water bottle and he drank, then handed the bottle back to her when he was finished. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “No queasiness? Sometimes people get nauseated when they travel in the mountains.”

  “None today. It comes and goes.”

  They sat in silence, watching the crackling fire and the dancing shadows that it cast on the walls. Once the fire began to warm the space, Brooke took off her jacket and rolled it up so that she could lie on it. The warmth of the fire had a soothing effect, lulling her into a welcome state of relaxation. “Cord,” she said after a time, “do you mind talking about your plans for the future?”

  He picked up a stray twig, dropped earlier from the bundle of kindling, and traced a line in the dirt on the cave floor. “Depends on what you want to know, I guess.”

  “How long until you leave Rancho Encantado?”

  “Sooner rather than later. I’m not supposed to know it, but the new guy, Pearsall, who came on board a couple of weeks ago, is being groomed to be ranch manager. He’ll do a good job.”

  “That makes you feel free to go,” Brooke said.

  “Sure it does. Justine has been good to me. She gave me a job when I needed one, and despite our differences, I wouldn’t want to leave her in the lurch.”

  “Will you be moving far from here?”

  He took off his vest and spread it on the ground before he lay back, propping himself up on his elbows. “No, I’ll be able to frequent the same old hangouts.” He shot her a playful look. “And I told you, it’s not what everyone seems to think.”

  “I believe you.”

  She was startled when he half turned to her and covered her hand with his. “Why would I be interested in anyone at Miss Kitti-Kat’s when I see you every day?”

  She almost withdrew her hand, then thought better of it. She liked being close to him—perhaps more accurately, close to the possibilities of him. He was a virile, handsome man, and she was a woman susceptible to his charms. Or her hormones were susceptible; she wasn’t sure which. Whatever it was, he had a powerful effect on her whenever he was near.

  “Cord, maybe we should talk about this.”

  He turned her hand over and traced one of the lines on its palm. “Go ahead and talk,” he said.

  “I wasn’t thinking of a monologue. What I have in mind is two-way conversation.”

  He grinned at her. “Isn’t that what we’ve been having?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “All right, you go first. If I like the topic, I’ll join in.”

  He was teasing her, and this time she did pull her hand away. “You’re making light of something that should be treated seriously.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “Of course you did.” She paused. “I don’t know why you’re interested in a pregnant woman.”

  “I’m interested in a woman. You. The fact that you’re pregnant is incidental.”

  “You said something last time—”

  “Last time what?” He recaptured her hand again, distracting her so that her thought processes became hopelessly jumbled.

  “Last time we kissed.”

  “The only time we kissed, if I remember correctly. You called a halt to the proceedings, much to my disappointment.”

  “I didn’t feel right about it. I’m going to have another man’s child, and if I understand correctly, you want to make love to me.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “Of course, just to confuse the issue, last time you tossed in a sentence or two about all there is for some people is comfort in the night, and maybe that’s enough. I’m not sure what to make of it. Of you.”

  “You think too much, Brooke.”

  “I translate what you said to mean that you’re not into relationships. I think what you’re saying is that you don’t believe in love. Well, I do. Or I did.” She fell silent, troubled by her thoughts.

  Cord became serious. “What I meant to say was that there’s been precious little love in my life. As for relationships, it’s not possible for me to enter into one with someone who isn’t special to me. I don’t like revolving doors.”

  “Even after what happened to me, I still believe in love,” she said softly.

  “Lucky you,” he said. There was no irony in his tone, no ruefulness and no sarcasm. Perhaps a bit of envy, but even that was muted.

  She settled against him with a sigh, her eyelids drifting closed as she was calmed by the steady drumming of rain outside the cave. Thunder boomed, the wind wailed and lightning rent the air, but they remained snug and comfortable in the cave. As Cord’s arm went around her to hold her close, Brooke wished she could feel like this all the time—safe, warm and protected.

  Chapter Ten

  Brooke must have dozed off, because a particularly loud clap of thunder startled her so that her eyes flew open.

  “Are you resting comfortably?”

  To hear Cord’s voice so near her ear was surprising, and then she remembered the circumstances. She started to sit up, but he pressed her back. “No reason to move. We’re not going anywhere yet.” His breath ruffled the hair at her temple.

  “How long did I sleep?” she murmured.

  “An hour. Maybe less.”

  “Did you sleep, too?”

  “No.” He didn’t add that he couldn’t have slept if he’d tried, considering that his senses were full of her as he cradled her close to his chest. While she slept, he had gazed at her unashamedly, drinking in the dusky shadows her eyelashes cast against her cheeks, wishing that he could slide his free hand up and through her pale hair. She had slept with her lips slightly parted, he could see the tips of her teeth, and once she had sighed and shifted her weight so that it would have been easy to brush his lips against her cheek. He hadn’t, but he’d been tempted.

  “Cord,” she murmured, her voice so low that he had to bend closer to hear.

  “What?” The word was more abrupt than he’d intended.

  “We could be here a long time.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Will they send someone out to look for us?”

  “I’m not sure.” It seemed doubtful, since he was famous around the ranch for his erratic behavior and frequent absences.

  “No one will miss me,” she said.

  He thought she sounded fearful, so he slid a finger under her chin and tipped her face toward the light cast by the fire. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

  Her eyes searched his. “I believe you,” she said. She was more beautiful than ever in the glow from the fire; her eyes were so wide and trusting. For the first time he was aware of the damp chill in the air.

  “Are you warm enough, Brooke?”

  She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. He took in the delectable curve of her lips, the smudge of soot on her cheek. He brushed it away, and her hand captured his and held it for a moment against the curve of her jaw. He felt her swallow.

  “Oh, Brooke,” he said, knowing he was lost. Then his lips were upon hers, capturing them in a kiss more remarkable for its hunger than for its tenderness. He felt her gasp and then she was returning his kiss. He eased her back against the ground so that his weight was full upon her.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he demanded.

  Slowly, she shook her head. And then her hands were inside his shirt, cool against his skin. He slid one leg between hers, cupped his hands around her breasts. They were warm and full, cresting over the top of her bra.

  “Wait,” she said, pushing herself up on one elbow while she unfastened hooks and buttons. Clothing fell away to reveal creamy flesh, and then he was out of his shirt and jeans so that he and Brooke were pressed length to length in front of the warm fire.

  He ran his hands along the curve of her waist, slid them around her buttocks and inhaled the sweet womanly scent of her skin.
His hands moved around to her softly rounded abdomen and lingered there. He thought guiltily of the child she carried; was it okay to be doing this?

  She must have sensed his hesitation. “It’s all right,” she whispered, the words tickling his ear. She slid her hands over his and moved them lower.

  He closed his eyes, thinking that he had never known a woman who was more willing. He found what he sought and let his fingers circle gently, rewarded when she sighed and shifted closer.

  Her hands upon him were gentle but firm; she understood how to touch a man and to elicit the most thrilling sensations. This was more than he had expected, and he groaned with pleasure.

  She drew him into a long and intense kiss, a marvel of lips and teeth and tongue that left him gasping. “Woman, what are you trying to do to me?” he said. Her face was gilded by the firelight, her eyes deep blue pools.

  She laughed lightly, her lips curving against his cheek. “I want to make love to you so that you’ll remember me when I’m gone,” she said, and he thought at first that she was joking. There was no time to mull this over, however, because she drew his head down to her breasts so that he could kiss one, then the other. The nipples were large and brown, the color of maple syrup and nearly as sweet, but they tasted of Brooke, the essence of her. Her back arched until it was all he could do to hold back. He didn’t want this to be quick; he wanted to experience each and every sensation to the max. But she was not in a mood to wait.

  “Cord,” she said, her voice a plea, and she wrapped her legs around him and urged him closer, until he felt himself slipping into her warm wetness, sliding into that dark place between her legs, so mysterious and so unknown to him until now.

  Now there was nothing about her that was unfamiliar to him; now he knew her body as well as he knew his own; now she was a part of him. And there was nothing dark, nothing mysterious about any of this. All was revealed to him in those moments of first union, all that he had ever wanted to know about the universe and everything in it. Because she was everything, this Brooke, this woman, this sweetness, this pleasure, this—ah, yes, this light that burst behind his eyelids with all the passion and pent-up longing that he’d held back since the first moment he’d seen her.