“Emma.” Dante’s grip tightened on her hands. “What are you afraid of? The bad guy or me?”

She blurted out, “I’m not afraid of either.” Her head dipped and she stared at her boots. “I’m afraid of me.”

His heart melted at the way her bottom lip wobbled. “Why?”

Her glance shifted to the corner of the room and she didn’t say anything for a full ten seconds. “I’ve been independent for so long, I’m afraid of becoming dependent on anyone.”

“Relying on someone else doesn’t have to be a bad thing. And it’s only temporary, then you can go back to being independent.”

She didn’t throw it back in his face, so he figured she was wavering. He went in for the clincher.

“Besides, you saved my life twice.” He lifted one of her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss there. “I owe you.”

Christmas at Thunder Horse Ranch
Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Golden Heart Award winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, ELLE JAMES started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at ellejames@earthlink.net or visit her website at www.ellejames.com.

This book is dedicated to my fans who kept writing, asking when Dante would have his book.

Without my fans I wouldn’t be pursuing the career I love. Thank you for reading and falling in love with my characters. May all your lives be blessed!

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Big sky...check. Flat plains...check. Storm clouds rolling in...check.

Like ticking off his preflight checklist, Dante Thunder Horse reviewed what was in front of him, a typical early winter day in North Dakota before the first real snowstorm of the season. It had been a strange December. Usually it snowed by Thanksgiving and the snow remained until well into April.

This year, the snow had come by Halloween and melted and still the ground hadn’t yet grown solid with permafrost.

Based on the low temperature and the clouds rolling in, that first real snow was about to hit their area. The kids of Grand Forks would be excited. With the holidays just around the corner, they’d have their white Christmas after all.

A hundred miles away from base, flying the U.S.-Canadian border as an air interdiction agent, or pilot, for the Customs and Border Protection, Dante was on a mission to check out a possible illegal border crossing called in by a concerned citizen. A farmer had seen a man on a snowmobile coming across the Canadian border.

He figured it was someone out joyriding who didn’t realize he’d done anything wrong. Still, Dante had to check. He didn’t expect anything wild or dangerously crazy to happen. The Canadian border didn’t have near the illegal crossings as the southern borders of the United States. Most of his sorties were spent enjoying the scenery and observing the occasional elk, moose or bear sighting.

Chris Biacowski, scheduled to fly copilot this sortie, had come down with the flu and called in sick.

Dante was okay with flying solo. He usually liked having the quiet time. Unless he started thinking about his past and what his future might have been had things worked out differently.

Three years prior, he’d been fighting Taliban in Afghanistan. He’d been engaged to Captain Samantha Olson, a personnel officer who’d been deployed at Bagram Airfield. Every chance he got he flew over to see her. They’d been planning their wedding and talking about what they’d put on their dream sheet for their next assignments.

After flying a particularly dangerous mission where his door gunner had taken a hit, Dante came back to base shaken and worried about his crew member. He stayed with the gunner until he was out of surgery. The gunner had survived.

But Dante’s life would be forever changed. When he had left on his mission, his fiancée had decided to go with a few others to visit a local orphanage.

On the way back, her vehicle hit an improvised explosive device. Three of the four people on board the military vehicle had died instantly. Samantha had survived long enough to get a call through to the base. By the time medics arrived, she’d lost too much blood.

Dante had constructed images in his mind of Samantha lying on the ground, the uniform she’d been so proud to wear torn, a pool of her own blood soaking into the desert sand.

He’d thought through the chain of events over and over, wondering if he’d gone straight from his mission to Bagram, would Samantha have stayed inside the wire instead of venturing out? Had their talk about the babies they wanted spurred her to visit the children no one wanted? Those whose parents had been collateral damage or killed by the Taliban as warning or retribution?

Today was the third anniversary of her death. When Chris had called in sick, Dante couldn’t cancel the flight, and he sure as hell couldn’t stay at home with his memories haunting him.

For three years, he’d pored over the events of that day, wishing he could go back and change things so that Samantha was still there. How was he expected to get on with his life when her memory haunted him?

The only place he felt any peace whatsoever was soaring above the earth. Sometimes he felt closer to Samantha, as if he was skimming the underbelly of heaven.

As he neared the general area of the farm in the report, movement brought his mind back to earth. A dark shape exploded out of a copse of trees, moving swiftly into the open. It appeared to be a man on a snowmobile. The vehicle came to a halt in the middle of a wide-open field and the man dismounted.

Dante dropped lower and circled, trying to figure out what he was up to. About the time he keyed his mic to radio back to headquarters, he saw the man unstrap what appeared to be a long pipe from the back of his snowmobile and fit something into one end of it.

Recognition hit, and Dante’s blood ran cold. He jerked the aircraft up as quickly as he could. But he was too late.

The man on the ground fired a rocket-propelled grenade.

Dante dodged left, but the grenade hit the tail and exploded. The helicopter lurched and shuddered. He tried to keep it steady, but the craft went into a rapid spin. Realizing his tail rudder had probably been destroyed, Dante had to land and if he didn’t land level, the blades could hit first, break off and maybe even end his life.

The chopper spun, the centrifugal force making it difficult for Dante to think and move. He reached up and switched the engines off, but not soon enough. The aircraft plummeted to the ground, a blade hit first, broke off and slammed into the next blade. The skids slammed against the ground and Dante was thrown against the straps of his harness. He flung an arm over his face as fragments of the blades acted like flying shrapnel, piercing the chopper’s body and windows. The helicopter rolled onto its side and stopped.

Suspended by his harness, Dante tried to key the mic on his radio to report his aircraft down. The usual static was absent, the aircraft lying as silent as death.

Dante dragged his headset off his head. Frigid wind blew through the shattered windows and the scent of fuel stung his nostrils.

The sound of an engine revving caught Dante’s attention. The engine noise grew closer, moving toward his downed aircraft. Had the predator come to finish off his prey?

He scrambled for the harness releases, finally finding and pulling on the quick-release buckles. He dropped on his left side, pain knifing through his arm. Gritting his teeth, he scrambled to his knees on the door beneath him and attempted to reach up to push against the passenger door. Burning pain stabbed his left arm again and he dropped the arm and worked with his good arm to fling the passenger-side door open. It bounced on its hinges and smashed closed again, nearly crushing his fingers with the force.

He hunched his shoulder and nudged the door with it, pushing it open with a little less force. This time, the door remained open and he stood, his head rising above the body of the craft. As he took stock of the situation, a bullet pinged against the craft’s fuselage.

Dante ducked. A snowmobile had come to a stop a hundred yards away, the rider bent over the handlebars, pointing a high-powered rifle in his direction. With nothing but the body of the helicopter between him and the bullets, Dante was a sitting duck.

He sniffed the acrid scent of aviation fuel growing more potent as the time passed and more bullets riddled the exterior of the craft. If he stayed inside the helicopter, he stood a chance of the craft bursting into flames and being burned alive. If the bullets sparked a fire, the fuel would burn. If the flames reached the tanks, it would create a tremendous explosion.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bright orange flicker of a flame. In seconds, the ground surrounding his helicopter was a wall of fire.

Amid the roar of flames, the snowmobile revved and swooped closer.

Debating how long he should wait before throwing himself out on the ground, Dante could feel the heat of the flames against his cheeks. If he didn’t leave soon, there wouldn’t be anything left for the attacker to shoot.

The engine noise faded, drowned out by the roar of the fire.

With fire burning all around him, Dante pulled himself out of the fuselage one-armed and dropped to the ground. His shoulder hit a puddle of the flaming fuel and his jumpsuit ignited.

Rolling through the wall of flames, Dante couldn’t get the flame to die out. His skin heated, the fuel was thoroughly soaked into the fabric. He rolled away from the flame, onto his back, unzipped the flight suit and shimmied out of it before the burning fabric melted and stuck to his skin.

Another bullet thunked into the earth beside Dante. Wearing nothing but thermal underwear, Dante rolled over in the snow, hugging the ground, giving his attacker very little target to aim at.

Covered in snow, with nothing to defend himself, Dante awaited his fate.

* * *

EMMA JENNINGS HAD spent the morning bundled in her thermal underwear, snow pants, winter jacket, earmuffs and gloves, one of them fingerless. Yes, it was getting colder by the minute. Yes, she should have given up two days ago, but she felt like she was so close, and the longer she waited, the harder the ground got as permafrost transformed it from soft dirt to hard concrete.

The dig had been abandoned by everyone else months ago when school had started up again at the University of North Dakota. Emma came out on weekends hoping to get a little farther along. Fall had been unseasonably warm with only one snowfall in late October that had melted immediately. Six inches of snow had fallen three days ago and seemed in no hurry to melt, though the ground hadn’t hardened yet. The next snowfall expected for that evening would be the clincher, with the predicted two feet of snow.

If she hadn’t set up a tent around the dig site months ago, she never would have come. As it was, school was out and she’d come with her tiny trailer in tow, with the excuse that she needed to pull down the tent and stow it for the winter. If not for the steep roof, the tent would easily collapse under the twenty-four inches of white powder. Not to mention the relentless winds across the prairie would destroy the tent if it was left standing throughout the wicked North Dakota winter.

Each weekend since fall semester began had proved to be fair and Emma had gone out to dig until this weekend. Some had doubted there’d be snow for Christmas. Not Emma. She’d lived in North Dakota all her life, and never once in her twenty-six years had the snow missed North Dakota at Christmas.

So far, the dig had produced the lower jawbone of a Tyrannosaurus rex. Emma was certain if she kept digging, she’d find the skull of the animal nearby. The team of paleontologists and students who’d been on the dig all summer had unearthed neck bones, and near the end of the summer, the jawbone. The skull had to be close. She just needed a little more time.

There to tear down the tent before it was buried in knee-deep drifts, she’d ducked inside to find the ground smooth and dry and the dirt just as she’d left it the weekend before. She squatted to scratch away at the surface with a tool she’d left behind. Before she knew it, she’d succumbed to the lure of the dig. That had been two days ago.

Knowing she had to leave before the storm hit, she’d given herself half of the last day to dig. Immersed in her work, the sound of a helicopter cut through her intense concentration and she glanced at her watch. With a gasp, she realized just how long she’d been there and that it was nearing sunset of her last day on the site.

She still needed to get the tent down and stowed before dark. With a regretful glance at the ground, she pushed the flap back and ducked through. High clouds blocked out any chance for warmth or glare from the sun.

The thumping sound of blades churning the air drew her attention and she glanced at the sky. About a mile away, a green-and-white helicopter hovered low over the prairie.

From where she stood, she couldn’t see what it was hovering over. The ground had a gentle rise and dip, making the chopper appear to be almost on the ground. Emma recognized the craft as one belonging to the Customs and Border Protection.

There was a unit based out of Grand Forks and she knew one of the pilots, Dante Thunder Horse, from when he’d taken classes at the university. A handsome Native American, he had caught her attention crossing campus, his long strides eating up the distance.

He’d taken one of her anthropology classes and they’d met in the student commons on a couple of occasions and discussed the university hockey team games. When he’d finally asked her out, she’d screwed up enough courage to take him up on it, suggesting a coffee shop where they’d talked and seemed to hit it off.

Then nothing. He hadn’t called or asked her out for another date. He must have finished his coursework at the university because she hadn’t run into him again. Nor did she see him crossing campus. She’d been disappointed when he hadn’t called, but that was at the end of last spring. The summer had kept her so busy on the dig, she wouldn’t have had time for a relationship—not that she was any good at it anyway. Her longest one had lasted two months before her shyness had scared off the poor young man.

Emma wondered if Dante was the pilot flying today. She marveled at how close the helicopter was. In all the vastness of the state, how likely was it that the aircraft would be hovering so near to the dig? Then again, the site was fairly close to the border and the CBP was tasked with protecting the northern border of the United States.

As Emma started to turn back to her tent to begin the job of tearing it down, a loud bang shook the air. Startled, she saw a flash in her peripheral vision from the direction of the helicopter. When she spun to see what had happened, the chopper was turning and turning. As if it was a top being spun faster and faster, it dropped lower and lower until it disappeared below the rise and a loud crunching sound ripped the air.

Her heart stopped for a second and then galloped against her ribs. The helicopter had crashed. As far away from civilization as they were, there wasn’t a backup chopper that could get to the pilot faster than she could.

Abandoning her tent, she ran for the back of the trailer, flung open the utility door in the rear, dropped the ramp and climbed inside. She’d loaded the snowmobile on the off chance she couldn’t get the truck all the way down the road to the dig. Fortunately, she’d been able to drive almost all the way to the site and had parked the truck and trailer on a hardstand of gravel the wind had blown free of snow near the edge of the eight-foot-deep dig site.

Praying the engine would start, she turned the key and pressed the start button. The rumble of the engine echoed off the inside of the trailer but then it died. The second time she hit the start button, the vehicle roared to life. Shifting to Reverse, she backed down the ramp and turned to face the direction the helicopter had crashed.

A tower of flames shot toward the sky, smoke rising in a plume.

Her pulse pounding, Emma raced across the snow, headed for the fire.

As she topped the rise, her heart fell to her knees. The helicopter was a battered heap, lying on its side, flames rising all around.

Gunning the throttle, Emma sped across the prairie, praying she wasn’t too late. Maybe the pilot had been thrown clear of the aircraft. She hoped she was right.

As she neared the wreck, movement caught her attention. Another snowmobile was headed toward the helicopter from the north. Good, she thought. Maybe whoever it was had also seen the chopper crash and could help her free the pilot from the wreckage and get him to safety. She waved her hand, hoping the driver would see her and know she was there to help. He didn’t give any indication he’d spotted her. But the snowmobile slowed. The rider pulled off his helmet, his dark head in sharp contrast to his white jacket. He leveled what appeared to be a rifle across the handlebars, aiming at something near the wall of flames.

Emma squinted, trying to make out what he was doing. The pop of rifle fire made her jump. That’s when she noticed a dark lump on the ground in the snow, outside the ring of fire around the helicopter. The lump moved, rolling over in the snow.

The driver of the other snowmobile climbed onto the vehicle and started toward the man on the ground, moving slowly, his rifle poised to shoot.

Emma gasped.

The man was trying to shoot the guy on the ground.

With a quick twist of the throttle she sent her snowmobile skimming across the snow, headed straight for the attacker. At the angle she was traveling, the attacker wouldn’t see her if he was concentrating on the man on the ground.

Unarmed, she only had her snowmobile and her wits. The man on the ground only had one chance at survival. If she didn’t get to him or the other snowmobile first, he didn’t stand a chance.

Coming in from the west, Emma aimed for the man with the gun. She didn’t have a plan other than to ram him and hope for the best.

He didn’t see her or hear her engine over the roar of his own until she was within twenty feet of him. The man turned the weapon toward her.

Emma gave the engine all it could take and raced straight for the man. He fired a shot. Something plinked against the hood of the snowmobile engine. At the last moment, she turned the handlebars. Her machine slid into the side of his and the handlebars knocked the gun from his hand.

She twisted the throttle and skidded sideways across the snow, spinning around to face him again.

Disarmed, the attacker had turned as well and raced north, away from the burning helicopter and the man on the ground.

Emma watched as the snowmobile continued into the distance. Keeping an eye on the north, she turned her snowmobile south toward the figure lying still on the ground.

She pulled up beside him and leaped off the snowmobile into the packed snow where he’d rolled.

A man in thermal underwear lay facedown in the snow, blood oozing from his left arm, dripping bright red against the pristine white snow.

Emma bent toward him, her hand reaching out to push him over.

The man moved so quickly, she didn’t know what hit her. He rolled over, snatched her wrist and jerked her flat onto her belly, then straddled her, his knees planted on both sides of her hips, twisting her arm up between her shoulder blades.

Until that point, she hadn’t realized just how vulnerable she was. On the snowmobile, she had a way to escape. Once she’d left the vehicle, she’d put herself at risk. What if the man shooting had been the good guy? In the middle of nowhere, with a big man towering over her, she was trapped and out of ideas.

“Let me up!” she yelled, aiming for righteous contempt. Her voice wobbled, muffled by a mouthful of snow it sounded more like a frog’s croak.

She tried to twist around to face him, but he planted his fist into the middle of her back, holding her down, the cold snow biting her cheek.

“Why did you shoot down my helicopter?” he demanded, his voice rough but oddly familiar.

“I didn’t, you big baboon,” she insisted. “The other guy did.”

His hands roved over her body, patting her sides, hips, buttocks, legs and finally slipping beneath her jacket and up to her breasts. His hands froze there and she swore.

Emma spit snow and shouted, “Hey! Hands off!”

As quickly as she’d been face-planted in the snow, the man on top of her flipped her onto her back and stared down at her with his dark green eyes.

“Dante?”

“Emma?” He shook his head. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Chapter Two

“Well, I’m sure not on a picnic,” Emma said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dante stared down at the pretty young college professor he’d met when he’d taken classes at the University of North Dakota, working toward a master’s degree in operations management.

She stared up at him with warm, dark chocolate-colored eyes, her gaze scanning his face. “What happened to you?” She reached up to touch his temple, her fingers coming away with blood. “Why was that man shooting at you?”

“I don’t know.” Dante’s brow furrowed. “Did you get a good look at him?”

“No, it was all a blur. I thought he was coming to help, but then he started shooting at you. I rammed into him, knocking his gun out of his hands. Then he took off.”

“You shouldn’t have put yourself in that kind of danger.”

“What was I supposed to do, stand by and watch him kill you?”

“Thankfully, he didn’t shoot you. And thanks for saving my butt.” Dante staggered to his feet and reached down with his right hand and helped her up. “He shot down my helicopter with an RPG and would have finished me off if you hadn’t come along.” A bitterly cold, Arctic breeze rippled across the prairie, blowing straight through his thermal underwear. A shiver racked his body and he gritted his teeth to keep them from chattering.

Emma stood and brushed the snow off her pants and jacket. “What happened to your clothes?”

“I fell into a puddle of flaming aviation fuel when I climbed out of the helicopter.” He glanced back at the inferno. “We need to get out of here in case the fire ignites the fuel in the tank.”

He climbed onto her snowmobile.

“You should take my coat. I bet you’re freezing.” Emma started to unzip her jacket.

He held up his hand. “Don’t. I can handle it for a little while and no use in both of us being cold.” He moved back on the seat and tipped his head. “Get on. I don’t know where you came from, but I hope it’s warmer there than it is here.”

Her lips twisted, but she didn’t waste time. She slipped her leg over the seat and pressed the start button. She prayed the bent skid, damaged in the collision, wouldn’t slow them down.

Once she was aboard, Dante wrapped his arms around her and pressed his body against her back, letting her body block some of the bitter wind.

It wasn’t enough. The cold went right through his underwear, biting at his skin. He started shaking before they’d gone twenty yards. By the time they topped a rise, he could no longer feel his fingers.

Emma drove the snowmobile along a ridge below which a tent poked up out of the snow. A truck and trailer stood on the ridge, looking to Dante like heaven.

When she pulled up beside the trailer, Emma climbed off, looped one of Dante’s arms over her shoulder and helped him into the trailer. It wasn’t much warmer inside, but the wind was blocked and for that Dante could be very grateful. The trailer consisted of a bed, a sink, a small refrigerator and a tiny bathroom.

“Sit.” Emma pushed him onto the bed, pulled off his boots and shoved his legs under the goose down blanket and a number of well-worn quilts. She handed him a dry washcloth. “Hold this on your shoulder so you don’t bleed all over everything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile.

Her brows dipped. “Stay here while I get the generator running.” She opened the door, letting in a cold blast of air.

“Keep your eyes open,” he said through chattering teeth.

“I will.” She closed the door behind her and the room was silent.

Dante hunkered down into the blankets, feeling as though he should be the one out there stirring the generator to life. When Emma hadn’t returned in five minutes, he pushed the blankets aside, wrapped one around himself and went looking for her.

He was reaching for the doorknob when the door jerked open.

Emma frowned up at him, her dark hair dusted in snowflakes. “The generator’s not working.”

“Let me look at it,” he insisted.

She pushed past him, closing the door behind her. “It won’t do any good.”

“Why?”

“The fuel line is busted.” She held up the offending tube and waved him toward the bed. “Get back under the covers. At least we have a gas stove we can use to warm it up a little in here. I don’t recommend running it all night, but it’ll do for now.”

“Why don’t we get out of here?”

“It’s almost dark and it started snowing pretty hard, I can barely see my hand in front of my face. It’s hard enough to find my way out here in daylight. I’m not trying in the dark and especially not in North Dakota blizzard conditions.”

“I need to let the base know what happened.” He glanced around. “Do you have any kind of radio or cell phone?”

“I have a cell phone, but it won’t work out here.” She shrugged. “No towers nearby.”

His body shook, his head ached and his vision was hazy. “I need to get back.”

“Tomorrow. Now go back to bed before you fall down. I’m strong, but not strong enough to pick up a big guy like you.”

Dante let Emma guide him back to the bed and tuck him in. When she smoothed the blankets over his chest, he grabbed her hand.

Her gaze met his as he carried her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles. “Thanks for saving my life.”

Her cheeks reddened and she looked away. “You’d have done the same.”

“I doubt seriously you’d be shot down from the sky. Your feet are pretty firmly on the ground.” He smiled. “Paleontologist, right?”

She nodded.

“Isn’t it a little late in the season to be at a dig? I thought they shut them down when the fall session started.”

She shrugged. “With our unseasonably warm weather, I’ve been working this dig every weekend since the semester started.”

“Until recently.”

“Since it snowed a few days ago, I figured I’d better get out here. I’d heard more snow was coming, and I needed to dismantle my tent and bring it in.” She stared toward the window as if she could see through the blinding snow.

“I take it you didn’t get the tent down in time.”

She gave him a little crooked smile. “A downed helicopter distracted me.”

“Well, thank you for sacrificing your tent to be a Good Samaritan.”

Her cheeks reddened and she turned away. “Let’s get that shoulder cleaned up and bandaged.”

She wet a cloth and returned to the bedside. Pushing the fabric of his thermal shirt aside, she washed the blood away.

Her fingers were gentle around the gash.

“It’s just a scratch.”

Her lips quirked. When she’d washed away the drying blood, she applied an antiseptic ointment and a bandage. “As it is, it was just a flesh wound, but it wouldn’t do to get infected.” Patting the bandage, she stepped back, the color higher in her cheeks. “I’ll make you a cup of hot tea, if you’d like.”

Studying her face, Dante found he liked the way she blushed so easily. “Have any coffee?”

“Sorry. I didn’t expect to have guests.”

“In that case, tea would be nice.” Dante glanced around the tiny confines of the trailer. “Aren’t you afraid to come out to places like this alone?”

Emma reached for two mugs from a cabinet. “Why should I be? It’s not like anyone else comes out here.”

“What if you were to get hurt?”

She shrugged. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“As close as it is to the border, you might be subject to more than just an elk hunter or farmer.”

“I have a gun.” Emma opened a drawer and pulled out a long, vintage revolver.

Dante grinned. “You call that a gun?”

She stiffened. “I certainly do.”

“It’s an antique.”

“A Colt .45 caliber, Single Action Army revolver, to be exact.”

Nodding, impressed, Dante stated, “You know the name of your antiques.”

Her chin tipped upward. “And I’m an expert shot.”

“My apologies for doubting you.”

The wind picked up outside, rocking the tiny trailer on its wheels.

Emma struck a long kitchen match on the side of a box and lit one of the two burners on the stove. A bright flame cast a rosy glow in the quickly darkening space. She filled a teakettle with water from a large water bottle and settled it over the flame. “I have canned chili, canned tuna and crackers. Again, I hadn’t planned on staying more than a couple of nights. I was supposed to head out before the weather laid in.”

Despite his injuries, Dante’s stomach grumbled. “I don’t want to take your food.”

She leveled her gaze at him. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t have enough.”

“Then, thank you.”

She opened two cans of chili and poured them into a pot, lit the other burner and settled the food over the flame.

Before long the teakettle steamed and the rich aroma of tomato sauce and chili powder filled the air. Emma moved with grace and efficiency, the gentle swell of her hips swaying from side to side as she moved between the sink and the stove. Dante’s groin tightened. Not that she was his typical type.

Emma appeared to be straitlaced and uptight with little time in her agenda for playing the field, as proved by their one date that had gone nowhere. Still, it didn’t give him the right to go after her again.

He shoved aside the blanket and tried to stand. “I should be helping you.” A chill hit him, penetrating his long underwear as if he wore nothing at all.

“Stay put.” She waved in his direction. “There’s little enough room in the trailer without two people bumping into each other. And I’ve got this covered.” She shed her jacket and hung it on a hook on the wall.

“I can at least get the plates and utensils down and set the table.” He glanced around. “Uh, where is the table?”

Emma grinned. “It’s under the bed. You were lying on it.”

He gave her a half bow. “Where do you propose we eat?”

“On the bed.” She grinned. “Picnic-style.”

“Do you always eat in the bed?” Images of the slightly stiff Emma wearing a baby-doll nightgown, sitting on the coverlet, eating chocolate-covered strawberries popped into Dante’s head. He tried but failed to banish the thought, his groin tightening even more. The slim professor with the chocolate-brown hair and eyes, and luscious lips tempted the saint right out of him. And the kicker was that she didn’t even know she was so very hot.

“I don’t usually have company in my trailer. I can eat wherever I want. In the summertime, I sit on a camp stool outside and watch the sun set over the dig.”

He could picture the brilliant red, orange and mauve skies tinting her hair. “I’ll consider it an adventure.” He reached around her and opened one of the overhead cabinet doors. “Where are the dishes and utensils?” As he leaned over her, the scent of roses tantalized his nostrils. Her hair shone in the light from the flame on the stove as much as he thought it might in the dying embers of a North Dakota sunset. Despite having shed her coat, the thick sweater, turtleneck and snow pants hid most of her shape. But he could remember it from the class he’d audited while attending the university in Grand Forks.

He tucked a hair behind her ear. “Why was it we only went out once?”

Her head dipped. “One has to ask for a second date.”

Dante gripped her shoulders gently and turned her slowly toward him. “I didn’t call, did I?” He stared down at her until she glanced up.

Her lips twisted. “It’s no big deal. We only went out for coffee.”

Dante swallowed hard. He remembered. It had been shortly before a particularly harsh bout of depression. One of his buddies from the army had been shot down in Afghanistan. He’d wondered if he’d stayed in the army if he could have changed the course of events, perhaps saved his friend or if he would have died in his place. Losing his fiancée and his friend so soon afterward made him question everything he’d thought he’d understood—his role in the war on terrorism, his patriotism and his faith in mankind. It had been all he could do to get out of bed each morning, go to work and fly the border missions.

“I’m sorry.” He brushed a thumb across her full lower lip and then bent to follow his thumb with his mouth. He’d only meant to kiss her softly, but once his lips touched hers, he couldn’t stop himself. A rush of hunger like he’d never known washed over him and before he realized it, he was crushing her mouth, his tongue darting out to take hers.

When he raised his head, he stared down at her through a haze of lust, wanting to drag her across the bed and strip her of every layer of clothing.

Her big brown eyes were wide, her lips swollen from his kiss and pink flags of color stained her cheeks.

Dante closed his eyes, forcing himself to be reasonable and controlled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I don’t—” she started.

The teakettle whistled.

Emma jerked around to the stove, one hand going to the handle of the kettle, the other to her lips.

Dante retrieved bowls from the cabinet and spoons from a drawer and stepped back, giving her as much space as the interior of the trailer would allow.

The wind churned outside, wailing against the flimsy outer walls, the cold seeping through.

As she poured the water into the mugs, Emma’s hand shook.

Kicking himself for his impulsive act, Dante vowed to keep his hands—and lips—to himself for the duration of their confinement in the tight space.

Since resigning his commission, Dante hadn’t considered himself fit for any relationship. He’d come back to North Dakota, hoping to reclaim the life he’d known growing up. But the transition from soldier to civilian had been anything but easy. Every loud noise made him duck, expecting incoming rounds from hidden enemies. Until today, it had only been noise. Today he’d been under attack and he hadn’t been prepared.

Emma dipped a tea bag in each mug until the water turned the desired shade. Then she pulled the bags out and set them in the tiny sink. “I’m sorry, I don’t have milk or lemon.” She held out a mug to him. “Sugar?”

The way her lips moved to say that one word had him ready to break his recent vow. “No, I’ll take it straight.”

When she handed him the mug, their hands touched and an electric surge zipped through him. He backed away and his knees bumped into the mattress, forcing him to sit and slosh hot tea on his hand. The scalding liquid brought him back to his senses.

Emma spooned chili into bowls and handed one to him. “Who would shoot you out of the sky?” She cradled her bowl in both hands, blowing the steam off the top.

“I have no idea.”

“As a border patrol agent, have you pissed off anyone lately?”

He shook his head. “Not anyone who would have the firepower that man had. He used a Soviet-made RPG from what I could tell. How the hell he got ahold of one of those, I don’t know.”

“How’d he know you’d be here?”

“I was responding to a call from my base that a man had crossed the U.S.-Canadian border on a snowmobile in this area. I can only assume it was him.”

“Could be someone with a gripe against the border patrol.”

“Yeah. I wish I could get word to my supervisor. They’ll be freaking out right about now. A missing helicopter and pilot is a big deal.”

“Would they send out a rescue team?”

“In this weather, I don’t see how.”

“Hopefully, it’ll be gone in the morning.” She stirred her chili. “If they don’t come looking for you, we’ll do our best to drive out and find a farmer with a landline so that you can call back.”

He nodded. “A lot of people will be worried. That’s an expensive piece of equipment to lose.”

“Seems to me that a skilled pilot is harder to replace.” Emma took a bite of her chili and chewed slowly.

Dante shrugged. Everything would have to wait until tomorrow. In the meantime... “It’s getting colder outside.”

“I have plenty of blankets for one bed.” She stared at her empty bowl and a shiver shook her body. “Without the generator, we’ll have to share the warmth.” Her gaze clashed with his, hers appearing reserved, wary.

His lips thinning, Dante raised his hands. “I’m sorry about the kiss. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

Before he finished talking, Emma was shaking her head. “It’s going to get really cold. The only way to stay warm is to stay close and share body warmth.”

Dante swallowed hard, his body warming at the thought.

He set his empty chili bowl in the sink and took hers from her, laying it on top. “We’re adults. This doesn’t have to be awkward or a big deal,” he said while his body was telling him, Oh, yes it does!

Chapter Three

Emma stared at the bed, her heart thumping against her ribs, her mouth going bone-dry. If it wasn’t so darned cold in the trailer, she’d sit up all night on the camp stool.

No, she wasn’t afraid of Dante. Frankly, she was afraid of her body’s reaction to being so close to the tall, dark Native American.

Too awkward around the opposite sex in high school, she’d focused instead on excelling in her studies. While girls her age were kissing beneath the bleachers, she was playing the French horn in band and counting the minutes until she could go back home to her books.

College had been little better. At least her freshman roommate in the dorm had seen some potential in her and shown her how to dress and do her hair and makeup. She’d even set her up on a blind date, which had ended woefully short when she had yanked her hand out of his when he’d tried to hold it.

For all her schooling, she was remarkably unschooled in the ways of love.

The wind moaned outside, sending a frigid chill raking across her body. Her hands shaking, she pushed the snow pants down over her hips and sat on the side of the bed to pull off her boots, slipping the pants off with them. Then she slid beneath the covers in her thermal underwear, sweater and turtleneck shirt and scooted all the way to the other side of the small mattress.

What man could lust after a woman covered from neck to feet? Not that she wanted him to lust after her. What would she do? Heaven help her if he should find out she was a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-six.

Emma lay on her back, the blankets pulled up to her chin and her eyes wide in the dim glow of the stove’s fire. “You’ll need to turn off the flame before we go to sleep.” Perhaps in the dark she’d felt less conspicuous and self-conscious.

Dante reached for the knob on the little stove and switched it off. The flame disappeared, throwing them into complete darkness.

The blanket tugged against her death grip, and the mattress sank beneath the big man’s weight. “Don’t worry. I promise not to touch you.”

Damn, Emma thought. With a man as gorgeous as Dante Thunder Horse lying next to her, what if she wanted him to touch her? Then again, one close encounter with her bumbling, shy inexperienced self and he’d disappear, just like he had the last time she’d gotten up the courage to go out for coffee with him.

He stretched out alongside her, his shoulder and thigh bumping against her.

A ripple of anticipation fluttered through her belly, followed by a bone-rattling shiver as the cold seeped through the three blankets, her sweater and thermal underwear.

“This is foolish. We won’t last the night in the frigid cold without heat.” He turned on his side and reached around her.

“W-what are you doing?” she squeaked as his hand brushed across her breast.

“We’re both fully clothed, which, by the way, isn’t helping matters. We’re both adults and we’re freezing. The best way to warm up is to share heat.”

“That’s what we were doing.”

“Not like this.” He rolled her onto her side, pulled her against him and spooned her backside with his front, his arm draped around her middle. “Better?”

Her pulse pounded so loud she could barely hear him, but she nodded and whispered, “Better.” Far too much better.

As she lay in the dark, cocooned in blankets and a handsome man’s arms, part of her was freaking out, the other part was shouting inside, Hallelujah!

“Let’s go to sleep and hopefully the storm will have passed by morning.”

Sleep? Was he kidding? Every cell in her body was firing up, while her core was in meltdown stages. Little shivers of excitement ignited beneath her skin with his every movement. His warm breath stirred the tendrils of hair lying against the side of her throat and all she could think of was how close his lips were to her neck. How likely was he to repeat the kiss that happened just a few moments ago?

If she turned over and faced him, would he feel compelled to repeat the performance? Did she dare?

“You smell nice. Like roses.” His chest rumbled against her back, his arm tightening around her middle.

“Must be my shampoo. It was a gift from a friend.” As soon as she said it, she could have kicked herself. Why couldn’t she just say thank you like any other woman paid a compliment?

“Am I making you nervous?” he asked.

“I’m not used to having a man...spoon me.”

“Seriously?” His thighs pressed against the backs of her legs and one slid across hers. “They were missing out. You’re very spoonable.”

She bit her bottom lip, afraid to admit she was a failure at relationships and scared off the men who’d ever made an attempt to get to know her. “I’m not good at this.”

“It’s as natural as breathing,” he said, his big hand spanning her belly. “Speaking of which, just breathe,” he whispered against her ear.

His words had the opposite effect, causing her breath to lodge in her throat, her heart to stop for a full second and then race to catch up.

Her arm lay over his and she wasn’t sure what to do with her hand. When she let it relax, it fell across his big, warm one.

“Your fingers are so cold,” he said.

She jerked her hand back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Let me have them.” He felt along her arm until he located her hand and enveloped it in his. “Tuck it beneath your shirt, like this.” He slipped his hand with hers under the hems of her sweater and thermal shirt, placing them against the heat of her skin. “You’re as stiff as a board. Are you still cold?” He moved his body closer.

“Yes,” she lied. Inside she was on fire, her nerve synapses firing off each time he bumped against her.

His fingers curled around hers, his knuckles brushing against her belly. “You really haven’t ever snuggled with a man?”

Not trusting her voice, she shook her head.

“Then you haven’t found the right one.” Dante’s lips brushed the curl of her ear.

She lay for a while basking in the closeness, letting her senses get used to the idea of him being so near, so intimate.

Without the heat from the stove top, the trailer’s interior became steadily colder and Dante’s hand holding hers inched upward beneath her shirt. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”

Oh, heck no. If anything, she wanted him to move faster and cup her breasts with that big, warm hand. A shiver of excitement shook her.

“Still cold?”

“Yes.” So it was a half truth. The parts of her body against his were warm, the others were cold and getting colder.

“Sharing body heat works better when you’re skin to skin.” His knuckles nudged the swells of her breasts.

Her breath caught in her throat when she said, “I know.” Emma bit her bottom lip, wondering if Dante would take her words as an invitation to initiate the next move.

“I don’t know about you, but it’s getting pretty damn cold in here. If we want to keep warm all night, we’d better do what it takes.” He removed his hand from her belly and rolled onto his back.

The cold enveloped her immediately and she scooted over to lie on her back as well, tugging the blanket up to her nose.

Dante sat up next to her, tugging the blanket aside, letting even colder air beneath.

“What are you doing?” she said through chattering teeth.

“Getting naked.” His movements indicated he was removing his thermal shirt and stuffing it beneath the covers down near his feet. He slid his long underwear over his hips, his hands bumping into her thigh as he pushed them all the way down to his feet.

“Now your turn.” He reached for the hem of her sweater and dragged it over her head.

“Are you crazy? It’s f-freezing in here.” She tried to keep her turtleneck shirt on, but he was as determined to remove that as he’d been with the sweater.

“Again, we’re adults. If it helps, just think of me as a big electric blanket to wrap around you.” He stuffed her shirt and sweater into the space around her feet and went to work on the long thermal underwear, dragging them down over her legs.

By the time he had her stripped to her bra and panties, she was shaking uncontrollably. “I was w-warmer b-before you s-started,” she said through chattering teeth.

“You’ll be warm again. Come here.” He dragged the blanket over them and pulled her close, crushing her breasts against his chest, his big arms wrapping around her back, tucking the blanket in as close as he could get it.

Their breath mingled, the heat of their skin, touching everywhere but her bra and panties, helped to chase away the chills. But Emma still couldn’t stop shaking. She’d never lain nearly naked with a man. She had trouble breathing and couldn’t figure out where her hands were supposed to be. Planting them against his chest was putting too much space between them and allowing cold air to keep her front chilled. She tried moving them down to her side, but her fingers were cold and she wanted them warm. When she slipped them around to her belly, they bumped against a hot, stiff shaft.

As soon as she touched it, she realized it was his member and before she could think, her hands wrapped around it.

“Baby, only go there if you mean it,” he warned her. “As close and naked as we are, it wouldn’t take much to set me off.”

“I thought you were just an electric blanket,” she whispered, reveling in a surge of power rolling through her. She had caused him to be this way. Her body against his was making him desire her in a way she’d only dreamed about.

For a moment, all her awkward insecurities disappeared. Her fingers tightened around him and slid downward to the base of his shaft.

His arms squeezed around her and his hips rocked, pressing himself into her grip.

Blood hummed through her veins. For that moment, she forgot the chill in the air and the fact they could freeze to death. Her focus centered on what she had in her hands and, in connection, what it could lead to.

Dante moaned. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

“I think so,” she responded. Her hand glided up his shaft to the velvety tip, her core heating, liquid fire swirling at her center, readying her to take him.

“I didn’t get us naked in order to take advantage of you.”

Her hands froze. “Am I taking advantage of you?”

“Oh, hell no.”

Her finger swirled across the tip, memorizing him by touch. “Just say so and I’ll stop,” she repeated his words.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He ran his hands over her back and down to smooth over her bottom.

She laughed, emboldened by the complete darkness. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” Something about the anonymity of the dark gave her the confidence to continue. Then she hesitated. “Unless you don’t want to. You’re the injured party.”

“I’ve wanted this since I stole that kiss.” He hooked the elastic of her panties and slid them down her legs.

She kicked them off, loving the way his member pressed into her curly mound. Just a little lower and he’d be there.

“I don’t have protection,” he said.

“I’m clean of STDs if that’s what you’re saying.” How could she not be when she’d never made love to a man?

“So am I.” He nuzzled her neck, his lips pressing against her pounding pulse. “But we shouldn’t do this without protection.”

“Can’t you withdraw at the last minute?”

“Withdrawal isn’t one-hundred percent safe.”

“You can’t stop now.” Surely she couldn’t get pregnant on her first time. Her first time. Wow. With a man as gorgeous and gentle as Dante, maybe she’d finally overcome her awkward shyness. She trembled, her body shaking like an engine when it first starts.

“Are we going to do it?” she asked, her hand tugging on him, guiding him to her center.

He chuckled softly. “Say the word.”

She inhaled and let out the single word on a breath of air, “Please.”

Dante hesitated for less than a second, and then he rolled on top of her, nudged her legs apart with his knees and settled between her thighs, his member pressing to her opening.

But he didn’t enter, not immediately. He started with a kiss. One similar to the one he’d stolen at the stove. This time, Emma kissed him back, finding his tongue and sliding hers along the length of his. She curled her fingers around the back of his neck and dragged him closer, loving the feel of his smooth chest against her fingers. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, wanting her naked breasts to feel what her fingers had the pleasure of.

Dante tore it away and slid it beneath her pillow, then he pulled the blanket over their heads and moved down her body. Inch by inch, he tasted her with his tongue, nipping her with his teeth, settling first on one breast, sucking the tip into his mouth and rolling the tight bud around. He moved to the other and gave it equal attention before he inched lower, skimming across her ribs and down past her belly button to the tuft of hair at the apex of her thighs.

Emma held her breath, wondering what he would do next. His mouth so close to home, she couldn’t move, frozen to the sheets, waiting.

With his big, rough fingers, he parted her folds and stroked that sensitive strip of skin.

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, her heels digging into the mattress, raising her hips for more.

He swirled, tapped and flicked, setting her world on fire. When she thought she couldn’t take any more, he moved up her body, and pressed into her.

At the barrier of her virginity, he paused.

Emma wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her heels into his buttocks, urging him deeper. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

“But...”

“Just do it. Please.” She tightened her legs.

He thrust deeper, tearing through.

She must have gasped, because he pulled back a little.

“Are you all right?” Dante asked.

She laughed shakily. “I’d be better if you didn’t stop.”

After hesitating a moment longer, he slid slowly into her and began a steady, easy glide in and out.

The initial pain lasted but a moment, and soon Emma forgot it in the joy of the connection between them. So this was what all the fuss was about. Now she understood and dropped her feet to the mattress to better meet him thrust for thrust.

When Dante stiffened, he stopped, his hard member buried deep inside her. A moment later, he dragged himself free and lay down beside her, pulling her into the warmth of his arms.

The heat of his body and the haze of pleasurable exhaustion washed over her and she melted against him. “Mmm. I never knew it would be that good.”

He lay with his arms around her, his body stiff. “You cried out. Why?”

Heat rose into her cheeks. “Did I?”

For a long moment, Dante held her without talking. “You were a virgin, weren’t you?” When she refused to answer, he continued, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Emma rested her hand on his chest, feeling the swift beat of his heart against her palm. “I was embarrassed. Besides, what difference does it make?”

“We wouldn’t have done it.” He smoothed a hand along her lower back.

“Are you sorry you did?” she asked, her lips so close to his nipple, she tongued the hard little point, liking the way it beaded even tighter.

“No.”

She smiled in the darkness and relaxed against him. “Me, either. Virginity is way overrated.”

He tipped her chin up with his finger. “Then why are—were—you still one?” His breath warmed her.

“Like I told you. I’m not good at relationships. I could never get past a first date.”

She could feel his head shaking side to side. “Inconceivable,” he said, then captured her mouth with his.

When he broke the kiss, Emma lay in his arms, basking in the afterglow, their bodies generating enough combined heat that, along with the cocoon of blankets, they held off the cold.

“Just so you know, I’m not good at relationships, either,” Dante said into the darkness. “I can offer you no guarantees.”

“I understand.” The warmth she’d been feeling chilled slightly. What did she expect? Sex was sex. No matter how good it felt, it didn’t necessarily come with emotional commitment.

She couldn’t expect Dante to fall in love with her just because she’d given him her virginity. “Don’t worry. I won’t stalk you or make any demands of you. The ‘no guarantees’ thing goes both ways.”

His hand paused the circular motion he’d begun on her naked back.

She added to boost her own self-confidence, “Thank you for getting me over my awkwardness. I won’t be so hesitant with my future dates.” As soon as she said the words, she could have kicked herself. Would he consider them flippant and insensitive, or worse? Would he think she was loose and easy with her body?

Despite his announcement that he’d give no guarantees, she’d harbored a wish, a dream and a raging desire to repeat what had just happened. When the storm cleared and they made it back to civilization, she hoped he’d ask her out again. Though sex with Dante had been magical to her, he certainly wouldn’t be impressed enough for a repeat performance with an awkward ex-virgin?

Chapter Four

Dante pressed himself as close as he could get to the jagged hulk of his crashed helicopter; his copilot lay at an awkward angle, still strapped to his seat, dead from a broken neck sustained upon impact. He didn’t recognize the copilot, his face was hidden in shadows.

A movement at the edge of the village where he’d crashed caught Dante’s eye. The flap of a dark robe fluttered in the desert breeze. There. The man he’d seen at the last minute, pointing an RPG at him, stood at the corner of a mud hut.

Staying low behind the metal wreckage, Dante leveled his 9 mm pistol, aiming at the man, waiting for him to step out of the shadows and come within range.

The sound of an engine made his blood run cold. An old, rusty truck rumbled down the middle of the street between the buildings, loaded with Taliban soldiers wielding Soviet-made rifles.

Alone, without any backup, it was him with a full clip against the Taliban. If he wanted to live, he had to make every shot count.

The truck barreled toward him and stopped short. The soldiers leaped over the side. He fired, hitting one, then another, but they kept coming as if the truck had an endless supply. One by one, he fired until the trigger clicked and the clip was empty.

Taliban men grabbed his arms and pulled him from the wreckage, shouting and shooting their weapons in the air. The hum of the truck engine growled louder as they dragged him closer.

“Dante.”

How did they know his name? He struggled against their hold, kicking and shoving at their hands.

“Dante, wake up!”

He opened his eyes. The sand and desert disappeared and dim light seeped in around the blinds over a window.

“Dante?” a soft feminine voice called out and it all came back to him.

“Emma?” he said, his voice hoarse.

She leaned over him, her naked body pressed against his, her breasts smashed to his chest, her thigh draped over his. She smelled of roses mixed with the musky scent of sex.

It took him a moment to shake the terror of being captured and dragged away by the Taliban, and even longer to return to the camp trailer on the North Dakota tundra.

Then he noticed a red mark on Emma’s cheek. “What happened to you?” He reached up to gently brush his thumb around the mark.

She smiled crookedly. “You were having a bad dream.”

“I did that?” His chest tightened and he pushed to a sitting position. “Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t hurt.” She pressed her fingers to the red welt. “I’m more worried about the engine noise I hear outside.”

Dante sat still and silent, focusing on the noise from outside. Just as she’d said, an engine revved nearby.

Dante threw back the covers. “Get up. Get dressed.”

“Why?” She asked, scrambling off the bed, gooseflesh rising on her naked skin.

“We don’t know if the man who shot me down yesterday is back.”

“Damn.” Emma grabbed her sweater, tugged it over her naked breasts and slipped into her snow pants and boots.

Dante only had his thermals to pull on and his boots.

When he reached for the door handle and twisted, it didn’t open. “Is there some kind of lock on this?”

“It should open when you twist the handle.”

He tried again.

About that time, the trailer lurched, sending him flying across the floor, slamming into the sink.

Emma fell across the bed. “What the hell?”

“The door lock is jammed, and someone’s driving your truck with the trailer still attached. Hold on!”

The vehicle lurched and bumped over the rough terrain.

“He’s backing us up!” Emma shouted. “If he goes much farther, we’ll end up in the ditch my team has been digging.” She staggered to her feet and flung herself across the room to the door. Another bump and her forehead slammed into the wall.

She slipped, her hands grabbing for the door latch. “We have to stop him.”

Dante staggered across to her. “Move!” He picked her up and shoved her to the side. Bracing himself on whatever he could hold on to, he slammed his heel into the door. The force with which he hit reverberated up his leg. The door remained secure. He kicked again. Nothing.

Emma grasped the sink and ripped the blinds from the window. “Oh, my god. We’re going to fall—”

The trailer tipped wildly. Everything that wasn’t nailed to the floor, including Dante and Emma, was flung to the back of the trailer as it tumbled down the near-vertical slope of the dig site. The rear end of the trailer slammed into the ground, crumpling on impact. Cold air blasted through the cracks and glass broke from the windows.

Dante landed on the mattress as it slid toward the back of the trailer. “Emma?” He couldn’t see her anywhere.

“I’m okay, I think.” A hand waved from beneath the mattress. “I’m just stuck.”

The truck engine revved and a door slammed outside. Then the upper end of the trailer caved in, bearing down on them. Dante rolled to the side, letting the mattress take the bulk of the blow.

When the world quit shaking, Dante was jammed between the mattress and the wall. Metal squeaked against metal and the trailer seemed to groan.

“Dante?” Emma called out.

“I’m going to try to move this mattress.” He squeezed himself against the wall and rolled the mattress back. “Can you get yourself out?”

“I’ll try.” Emma reached up, grabbed the edge of the sink and pulled herself out from beneath the mattress.

Dante let the mattress fall in place and hauled himself up on it, ducking low to keep from hitting his head on the crushed trailer. His stomach lurched when he saw the bumper of the truck through a crack in the wall. Whoever had driven them into the ditch had crashed the truck down on top of them. If it shifted even a little, they’d be stuck in there, trapped and possibly crushed.

Light and cold wind filtered through the broken window over the sink. Placing his head close to the opening, he listened.

“Is he gone?” Emma whispered.

A small engine roared above them. If he wasn’t mistaken, Dante would guess it was a snowmobile. “I think that’s him leaving now.” And none too soon. The truck above them shifted and the walls sank closer to where he and Emma crouched on the mattress.

The door was crushed and mangled. They wouldn’t be getting out that way. If they didn’t leave soon, the truck would smash into them. “We have to get out of here.”

“How?” Emma asked.

Dante lay back and kicked the rest of the glass out of the window over the sink. Then, using the pillow, he worked the jagged edges loose. “You go first,” he said.

“And leave you to be crushed?” Emma shook her head. “No way. If you can get out, I can get out.”

“If I get stuck, neither one of us will get out. If you go first and I’m trapped, you can go for help.”

Emma worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Okay. But you’re not getting stuck.” She edged her body through the tight opening and dropped to the ground. “Now you!” she called out. “And throw any blankets or coats you can salvage out with you.”

Dante scavenged two blankets from the rubble and pushed them through the window. He followed them with Emma’s winter jacket.

Metal shrieked against metal and the trailer’s walls quaked.

“The truck’s shifting!” Emma called out. “Get out now!”

Dante dove for the small window, wondering how he’d get his broad shoulders through the narrow opening. He squeezed one through and angled the other, the rim of the window tight around his ribs. Then he was pushing himself through.

Emma braced his hands on her shoulders and walked backward as he brought his hips and legs almost all the way out.

The entire structure wobbled and creaked, then folded like an accordion.

Emma dragged him the rest of the way, both of them falling onto the ground as the truck’s weight crushed the remainder of the trailer walls beneath it.

Dante rolled off Emma and stood, pulling her up beside him. Together they stared at the wreckage.

She shook in the curve of his arm. “If one more minute had passed...”

His arm tightened around her. “We’re out. That’s all that matters.”

“But who would do this?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.”

* * *

EMMA COULDN’T REMEMBER the road leading into the dig site being as long as it was, until she had to walk through snow to get to a paved road. Her toes were frozen and her jacket barely kept the cold wind from chilling her body to the bone. But she couldn’t complain when all Dante had on were his thermal underwear and the blankets he’d salvaged from the trailer before it had been crushed beneath her truck.

With the truck a total write-off, she’d hoped the snowmobile she’d left parked outside the night before would be usable.

Whoever had tried to kill them had stabbed a hole in the snowmobile’s gas tank and ripped the wires loose. It wasn’t going anywhere but a junkyard.

If they wanted to get help, they were forced to trudge through three feet of snow for almost two miles just to reach a paved road. And as the North Dakota countryside could be desolate, it could be hours or days before anyone passed by on the paved road.

Tired, hungry and cold, Emma formed a smile with her chapped lips. At least she wouldn’t die a virgin. “Are you doing okay?” she asked. “We could stop and hunker down long enough for you to warm up.”

“I’m fine.” Enveloped in the two blankets he’d thrown from the wreckage, his thermal-clad legs were more exposed to the elements than anything else. “We should keep moving.”

Emma could tell he was trying not to let his teeth chatter. She slipped her arm around him and leaned her body into his to block as much of the wind as she could. Blankets provided little protection against the icy Arctic winds. If they didn’t find help soon, he’d freeze to death. How much could a man persevere after being shot down and nearly crushed?

Her gaze swept over him. The man, all muscle and strength, displayed no weakness. But as cold as she was, he had to be freezing.

Though the storm had moved on and the sun had come out, the wind hadn’t let up, seeming to come directly from the North Pole.

When they reached pavement, Emma almost felt giddy with relief. With the gravel road she’d come in on buried in snow, she hadn’t been completely sure they were headed in the right direction.

“Which way?” Dante asked.

Emma glanced right, then left, and back right again. “If I recall correctly, the man who owns this ranch lives in a house a couple of miles north of this turnoff.”

A cold blast of wind sent a violent shiver across her body.

“Here.” Dante peeled one of the blankets off his back and handed it to her.

“No way.” She refused to take it. “I’m warm enough. You’re the one who needs it.”

“I’m used to this kind of cold. I grew up in the Badlands.”

“I don’t care where you grew up. If you drop from hypothermia, I can’t carry you.” She stood taller, stretching every bit of her five-foot-four-inch frame in an attempt to equal his over six-feet-tall height. “Put it back on.”

He grinned, his lips as windburned as hers, and wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders. “Then let’s get to it. The sooner we get there, the sooner I get my morning cup of coffee.” Wrapping the blankets tightly around himself, he took off.

Emma had to hurry to keep up, shaking her head at his offer of a blanket when she had all the snow gear on and he had nothing but his underwear. Stubborn man.

Her heart warmed at his concern for her and the strength he demonstrated.

So many questions burned through her, but she saved them for when they made it to shelter and warmth. Emma focused all her energy on keeping up with the long-legged Native American marching through the snow to find help. With the sun shining brightly, the blindingly white snow made her eyes hurt and she ducked her head, her gaze on Dante’s boot heels. She stepped in the tracks he left as much as possible to save energy, though his strides were far longer than hers.

After what felt like an eternity, cold to the bone, her teeth chattering so badly she couldn’t hear herself think, Emma looked up and nearly cried.

A thin ribbon of smoke rose above the snow-covered landscape. Where there was smoke, there was fire and warmth. Fueled by hope, she picked up the pace, squinting at the snowy fields until the shape of a ranch house was discernible.

Less than a tenth of a mile from the house, Emma stumbled and fell into the snow. Too stiff to move quickly, she didn’t get her arms up in time to keep from performing a face-plant in the icy crystals.

Before she could roll over and sit up, she was plucked from the snow and gathered in Dante’s arms.

“P-put me down,” she stammered, her teeth clattering so hard she was afraid she’d bite her tongue, but was too tired to care.

“Shush,” he said and continued the last tenth of a mile to the front door of the house.

Her face stinging from the cold, all she could do was wrap her arms around Dante’s neck and hold on while he banged on the door.

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the solid wood door and it swung open.

“Dear Lord.” An older gentleman in a flannel shirt and blue jeans stood in sock feet, his mouth dropped open.

“Sir, we need help,” Dante said.

“Olaf, don’t just stand there, let them in and close the door. Can’t let all that heat escape with the power out.” An older woman hurried up behind Olaf. “Come in, come in.”

Olaf’s jaw snapped shut and he stepped aside, allowing Dante to carry Emma through the door.

Even before Olaf closed the door behind them, heat surrounded Emma and tears slid down her cheeks. “We made it.” She buried her face against the cool blankets covering Dante’s chest.

“Set her down here on the couch in front of the fire,” the woman said, urging Dante forward. She waved a golden retriever out of the way and pointed to the couch she was referring to. “The storm knocked the power out last night and we’ve been camping out in the living room to stay warm by the fireplace. We have a generator, but we save that for emergencies.”

Emma almost laughed. To most people, a power outage would constitute an emergency. The hardy folks of North Dakota had to be really down-and-out to consider power failure to be an emergency.

Dante set Emma on the sofa and immediately began pulling off her jacket.

“Let me,” the woman said. She waved Dante away. “You go thaw out by the fire.” As she tugged the zipper down on Emma’s jacket, she introduced herself. “I’m Marge, and that’s my husband, Olaf.” The woman’s white eyebrows furrowed. “Should I know you? You look familiar.”

“I think we met last summer. My name’s Emma.” Emma forced a smile past her chapped lips. “Emma Jennings from the UND Paleontology Department. I was working at the dig up until yesterday.”

“I thought the site had been shut down at the end of the summer,” Olaf said.

Emma shrugged. “Since we’ve had such a mild fall I’ve been coming out on weekends. I’d hoped to get in one last weekend before the permafrost.”

“And then the storm last night...” Marge shook her head. “You’re lucky you didn’t freeze to death.”

“I c-can do this,” Emma protested, trying to shrug out of her jacket on her own.

Marge continued to help. “Hon, your hands are like ice. It’ll be a miracle if they aren’t frostbitten.” The woman clucked her tongue, casting a glance over her shoulder at Dante. “And him out in the cold in nothing but his underwear. What happened?”

Olaf took the blankets from Dante and gave him two warm, dry ones. “Did your truck get stuck in the snow?”

Emma’s gaze shot to Dante. She didn’t want to frighten these old people.

Dante took over. Holding out his hand to Olaf, he said, “I’m Dante Thunder Horse. I’m a pilot for the Customs and Border Protection unit out of Grand Forks. My helicopter was shot down several miles from here yesterday.”

Olaf’s eyes widened, his grip on Dante’s hand tightening before he let go.

When Dante was done filling them in on what had happened, Olaf ran a hand through his scraggly gray hair and shook his head. “Don’t know what’s got into this world when you can’t even be safe in North Dakota.”

Emma laughed, more tears welling in her eyes. After their near-death experiences, she was weepier than normal. For a short time there, she had begun to wonder if they’d find shelter before they froze.

“Mind if I use your phone?” Dante asked. “I need to let the base know I’m alive.”

Marge tucked a blanket around Emma. “Olaf, hand him the phone.”

Olaf gave Dante a cordless phone. Dante tapped the numbers into the keypad and held the phone to his ear and frowned. “I’m not getting a dial tone.”

“Sorry. I forget, without power, this one is useless.” Olaf took the phone and replaced it in the powerless charger. “Let me check the one in the kitchen.”

A minute later, he returned. “The phone lines are down. Must have been knocked out along with the electricity in the storm last night.”

“I need to get back to Grand Forks. My people will have sent up a search and rescue unit.”

“I can get you as far as Devil’s Lake,” Olaf said. “But then I’ll have to turn back to make sure I get home to Mamma before nightfall.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I can take care of myself,” Marge insisted.

“We don’t want to put you in danger,” Emma said.

“No, we don’t,” Dante agreed. “If we could get as far as Devil’s Lake, we can find someone heading to Grand Forks and catch a ride with them.”

“I’d take you all the way to Grand Forks, but with the snow on the road and the wife here, keeping the house warm by burning firewood...”

“We wouldn’t want you to leave her alone that long,” Dante assured Olaf. “It’ll be a long enough drive to Devil’s Lake and back.”

“I’ll get my truck out of the barn.” Olaf hurried into the hallway leading toward the back of the house. “Mamma, find the man some of my clothes. He can’t go all the way to Grand Forks in his underwear.” Olaf shot a grin back at them as he pulled on his heavy winter coat, hat and gloves.

Marge left them in the living room and headed the opposite direction of her husband. When she returned, she carried a pair of jeans, an older winter jacket and a flannel shirt. “These were my son’s. He’s a bit taller than Olaf. They should fit you better.”

“I’ll have them returned to you as soon as possible.”

“Don’t bother. He has more in the closet and he rarely makes it up here in the wintertime. We usually go stay with him and his family in January and February. They live in Florida.” She grinned. “It’s a lot nicer down there at this time of year than up here.”

Dante smiled at the woman and accepted the clothing graciously.

“There’s a bathroom in the hallway if you’d like to dress in there.” Marge pointed the direction.

Dante disappeared and reappeared a few minutes later dressed in jeans that fit a little loose around his hips and were an inch or two short on his legs. The flannel shirt strained against his broad shoulders, but he didn’t say a word.

Emma figured he was grateful to have anything more than just thermal underwear on his body.

He shrugged into the old jacket and zipped it. “I’ll go help Olaf with the truck.”

“Stay inside,” Marge insisted. “You’ve been exposed to the weather enough for one day.”

“I’m fine.” He nodded toward Emma, his dark eyes smoldering. “I’ll be back in a minute for you.”

Emma’s heart fluttered. She knew he didn’t mean anything by the look, other than he’d be back to load her up in the truck.

Alone with Marge, Emma wished she was warm enough to go out and help, but the thought of going out in the cold so soon after nearly dying in it didn’t appeal to her in the least. How did Dante do it?

“That’s some man you have there,” Marge said, fussing over the blankets in Emma’s lap.

Emma started to tell Marge that he wasn’t her man, but decided it didn’t matter. The farmer and his wife had been very helpful, taking them in and providing them warmth and clothing.

“How long have you two been together?” Marge asked out of the blue.

Now that she hadn’t refuted Marge’s earlier statement, Emma didn’t know whether she should tell her they weren’t together. “Not very long” were the words she came up with. They were true in the simplest sense. She and Dante had only been together since she’d found him in the snow beside the helicopter wreckage the day before and one other time when they’d had coffee together on campus.

Marge smiled. “You two make a nice couple. Now, do you want to take an extra jacket with you? Olaf keeps blankets and a sleeping bag in the backseat of the truck in case we get marooned out in bad weather. Make use of them. I know once you get cold, it’s hard to warm up. Sometimes it takes me days for my old body to catch up.”

Used to the North Dakota winters, Emma nodded. To think Dante was out in that cold wind helping the old man get the truck ready sent another shiver across Emma’s skin.

“I’ve got my camp stove going and some water heating for coffee. If you’re all right by yourself, I’ll rustle up some breakfast for the two of you.”

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble.” Emma’s belly growled at the thought of food.

Marge laughed. “No trouble at all. We rarely have visitors so far north. It’ll be a treat to get to fuss over someone.” She left Emma on the couch.

The rattle of pans preceded the heavenly scent of bacon cooking. By the time the men came in from the cold, Emma’s mouth was watering and she pushed aside the blankets to stand.

“Everything’s ready,” Dante said.

“Good. Then come have a seat at the table and eat breakfast while Olaf and I have our lunch. No use going off with an empty stomach.” Marge set plates of hot food on the table and cups of steaming coffee.

“We really appreciate all you’ve done for us. Truthfully, we’d have been happy just to sit in front of the fire to thaw.” Emma sat in the chair Dante pulled out for her and stared down at eggs, bacon, ham and biscuits. “Breakfast never looked so good,” she exclaimed.

“You’re an angel.” Dante hugged the older woman and waited for her to sit in front of a sandwich and chips before he took his seat.

Marge’s cheeks bloomed with color.

“My Marge can make most anything with a camp stove and a Dutch oven. And she can dress a mule deer like a side of beef.”

Marge waved at her husband. “He only married me because I liked hunting.”

Olaf grinned. “And she was the prettiest girl in the county.”

Emma hid a smile. The pair clearly loved each other. “How long have you two been together?”

Olaf’s head tipped to one side. “What’s it been? Thirty years or more?”

Marge shook her head. “Going on forty.”

“And you still don’t look a day over twenty-nine.”

“Big fibber.”

Emma caught Dante’s smile and joined him with one of her own. The warm food and good company went a long way toward restoring her stamina.

By the time Marge and Olaf bundled them into the truck, Emma was beginning to think all was right in a crazy world. She found it hard to believe that only that morning someone had tried to kill them.

As Olaf drove the long, snow-covered road to Devil’s Lake, Emma had far too much time on her hands to think. Whoever had shot down Dante’s helicopter hadn’t been satisfied with him being injured. He’d come back to finish the job. The big question was, would he try again?

Chapter Five

At the truck stop at Devil’s Lake, Dante was able to get a call through to headquarters. The dispatcher on duty was relieved to hear from him. They’d sent out several helicopters to circle the last known location of his helicopter. The snow had done a nice job of hiding the crash site and they’d just located it beneath three feet of powder when Dante had made contact.

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