Wind whipped through the valley and howled around the old house like a widow keening.
A crack of thunder shook the earth. Rain pelted the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it away, blurring the outline of the cabin.
Matthew Long swore he could hear years-dead voices whispering things better left unsaid. Grief clung to this place like a bad dream, still breathed his father's obscenities and his mother's lunatic ravings.
He wished that Jenny Sterling could have found somewhere else to ride out this storm other than the house he'd grown up in.
Warm light flickered in the cabin's windows and wood smoke scented the air. Jenny had started a fire.
Matt couldn't put it off any longer. He had to go in there and drag her back home to the Sheltering Arms.
Hank might be a friend, but he was also their employer. The little idiot needed to apologize for the argument she'd started with Hank's guest, Amy.
He turned off the engine and jumped out of the truck.
In the few seconds it took him to cross the muddy path between the truck and the veranda, he was soaked to the skin with driving rain.
The aged floorboards creaked beneath him with every step he took. He had to put effort into pushing the warped door while it groaned its resistance before finally opening.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He hadn't been in here since his parents had died. What was that? Ten years ago? The living room hadn't changed one bit, except for the woman standing in front of the fireplace.
Jenny kept her back to him, ignoring him when he knew he'd made enough noise entering to rouse the dead.
Soft candlelight shone on her bare back, lit the threadbare blanket that was wrapped around her and hanging below the flare of her hips. When she bent to arrange her wet clothes in front of the fire, it slipped down to her smooth, round bottom, and anger forged a trail through him.
She had a lot of nerve ruining a perfectly good friendship by growing up. Matt didn't care how unreasonable that sounded.
A gust of wind through the open doorway blew his hat from his head but he caught it in one hand.
The cold air raised goose bumps on Jenny's skin.
He'd noticed everything about her lately, like her curves and the new way she walked, swinging her hips too much.
Feminine curves and cowgirl strength. A stunning combination, never mind that she was feisty and fun, and made him feel bad to the bone.
And now she was a grown woman.
Matt stepped into the room and slammed the door.
Jenny straightened, turned and looked at him with the eyes of a woman. Damn.
Looking at her, he felt that old devil, yearning, swamp him. Yearning for what? For a warm body to sink into? Any number of girls in town offered that regularly. For a comfort that would ease his soul? He could always wander into Reverend Wright's church for that. For…love? No way. No how. For a family? Not in this lifetime.
That yearning had been trailing him for
