The lodge had to be further from the glacier than Knox had made it sound, because there was no way he could have covered that much ground in the middle of a snowstorm and in the dark too. He had been moving swiftly though, and now she was thinking about it, he hadn’t needed a flashlight to illuminate the way for him. A hundred questions filled her mind.
They fled as a light flickered on, making her tense and her fingers tighten against her jacket. Something to her left beeped and she looked there. The light was one of three in the large modern kitchen area, suspended from a wooden crossbeam in the open vaulted ceiling. The other two in the black metal dome-shaped shades were out.
Skye hung her coat up near the door and checked her dark green sweater. It was damp at the hem where it had come loose from her black trousers, but she could live with that.
She hadn’t expected such a well-appointed kitchen up here in the remote wilderness. There was a large stove in front of the window that overlooked the front porch and a double sink set into the wooden cabinets. Another window above it revealed the side porch she had seen. The worktop looked like solid black granite, which couldn’t be right. It would weigh far too much for men to haul up here, even if they had a small four-by-four vehicle that could somehow traverse the forest to reach it. She didn’t know of any road beyond the forestry track.
Maybe they had flown it in with a helicopter. Some of the bigger lodges in the valleys used local pilots to deliver building materials to them. It made a lot more sense to her than men carrying it all the way from the trailhead.
There was no way a group of men would be strong enough to haul it all that way, not even if there were half a dozen of them.
She moved to the wooden post at the start of the long row of cabinets that acted as an island and separated the kitchen from the living room and touched the counter. It was cold enough to be real stone.
A door beyond the L-shaped couch opened and she tensed, relaxed again as she spotted Knox dusting snow off his soaked fleece shirt.
“You’ll catch your death in that.” She regretted it the moment she said it, the second he looked at his shirt and then at her.
A wicked glint in his blue eyes.
He undid the top two buttons, reached over his back and pulled the shirt off in one fluid move, revealing his bare torso to her.
Oh God.
Her mouth dried out and she tried to avert her gaze, but it was glued to his body as he lowered his wet shirt to his side and stood there facing her, letting her stare. Tempting her. She swallowed hard, wanted to be angry with him for playing such a trump card, for trying to sway her and get her to lower her defences. Impossible. It was impossible to be angry while she was staring at perfection. There wasn’t a man in this world who had a body like Knox’s. It was cut from stone, honed by the finest sculptors, made to tempt women and set their biological clocks screaming at them.
Strong male. Competent male. Perfect breeding material.
He looked every bit a hunter, or perhaps a warrior, as he stood there staring at her, the broad slabs of his pectorals shifting with each breath.
She frowned.
Each increasingly unsteady breath.
Her gaze flicked up to his.
He looked away from her and strode to his right, disappearing beyond another door.
Had her staring rattled him? She had thought he would lap it up, that he would enjoy having her eyes on him, but she had the damnedest feeling that she had shaken him and made him nervous.
Which would be a first.
He had never been nervous around her before.
Was he waiting for her to give him hell?
If she did, he would deserve it, but right now she was too tired to get into a fight with him.
Skye moved to the fire and stood before it, staring at the flames, trying to enjoy the way they warmed her numbed toes and trying not to think about Knox warming her in a different way. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The Knox she had known would have soaked up her attention, would have smiled in that cocksure way that had always made her roll her eyes. Something about him had changed.
An answer flickered through her mind and even though she tried not to, she latched onto it.
Did he have someone else?
Oh God. Was that why he hadn’t contacted her? Was he married? Had he cheated on his wife with her? Her mind ran at a million miles per hour, racking up the questions, spiralling into a deep, dark rabbit hole of hurt.
“You okay?” Knox’s voice coming from right beside her startled her and she whipped to face him, tripped on her foot and almost fell, but he snagged her wrist and kept her upright. His blue gaze leaped to his hand on her wrist and he was quick to release her. “Something on your mind?”
“No. Yes. What makes you say that?” She grimaced.
He frowned and eased closer, and God he smelled good. The black long-sleeved T-shirt he had pulled on did nothing to hide his muscles from her, seemed to emphasise every damned one.
“You look… I’m not sure. Maybe like you were chewing on a wasp. Or a bee.” He glanced away from her, his face hardening, and grumbled under his breath, “Fucking bees.”
She got the impression he really hated bees. “You allergic to them or something?”
He glanced at her and frowned, and then his brow relaxed. “No. Just hate how they stop me from getting their honey. Got a few bad experiences with bees under my belt.”
“It’s easier just to buy honey. I mean… who tries to take honey from a hive? Unless you keep bees?”
“Keep bees,” he murmured thoughtfully, his eyes lighting up, as if that thought had never crossed his mind before but he liked the idea of it. “Honey tastes better fresh from the source.”
They were getting off track. She tried to think of a way to get their conversation back on topic and then decided she didn’t want to go back to thinking about the fact he might be married.
Her mouth had other ideas.
“Are you married?” she blurted and grimaced.
Smooth move.
He jerked backwards as if she had slapped him and frowned at her. “Married? Hell, no. I’m not married. Why are you asking me that—oh.”
His eyebrows rose.
He swallowed hard.
“Skye…”
She shook her head and turned away from him, not wanting him to see that she was relieved to hear that he wasn’t married. That relief was quick to dissipate when she considered he might have been married.
She pushed the words out. “When we… were you married then… or maybe you cheated on someone?”
“Where’s all this coming from?” He reached for her and she moved a step forwards, stopping him from touching her.
He sighed and walked past her, ran a hand through his hair, tousling it as he went to the kitchen. He stopped near the island and pivoted to face her.
“I didn’t cheat on anyone with you. Skye…” He huffed and frowned, drummed his fingers on the black stone counter, and then abruptly turned away from her again. “I’ll get you a warm drink.”
“I’ll take a cold one.” She held his gaze when he paused and looked back at her, surprise in his blue eyes. “I need something a little stiffer than coffee… and I’m also a little afraid you’ll try to give me what you think passes for coffee. I’m not sure I can stomach another dose of whatever that was you gave me back at that cabin.”