Wilderness Passion

He picked up her other bag. “I suppose I can construe that as a compliment or an insult,” he drawled.

Libby slid the strap of her third bag over her shoulder, trying to match his stride as he headed toward a battered, dust-covered Jeep in the parking lot. “It was a compliment,” she said, breathlessly coming to a halt at the vehicle.

Dan glanced at her darkly, shoving the luggage into the back. “Hop in and hold on. You’re in for a bruising ride.”

Libby curbed her initial disappointment. No, he hadn’t changed an iota. But in his notes to her, there had been a slight yielding, a hint that they might find some neutral territory between them.

“Strap in,” he advised.

“Why?” she challenged.

Dan’s glance slid to her as he backed out of the lot, heading the noisy Jeep in a northerly direction. “Your ignorance is already showing, Doctor.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like being called stupid, Mr. Wagner, not by you or anyone.”

“I didn’t say you were stupid. I said your ignorance was showing. There’s a big difference,” he corrected. “It’s nice to see that PhDs don’t know everything.”

She clenched her teeth, fighting down the fury that threatened to overcome her judgment. Good Lord, they were already fighting and she hadn’t been there for more than fifteen minutes! Calming herself, Libby murmured, “You’re right, there is. Since you seem so enlightened about seat belt policy in Idaho, why don’t you tell me?”

He pointed toward the approaching range of mountains towering to the left of them. Libby could see a single thin ribbon of dusty road winding here and there up into the high reaches of timber until it ultimately disappeared around the other side of the ridge. “See that?” he demanded.

“The road? Yes.”

“That’s where we have to go. It’s rutted, potholed and incredibly dangerous because the timber trucks have used it too long and it’s never been repaired. More than one truck or Jeep has been flipped over.” He looked at her squarely for a moment

Libby stared at him. “D-does it happen often?”

He offered her a cutting smile. “Best business for the local undertaker is loggers on choke chains who didn’t watch their step, and stupid tourists who race up these timber roads. Enough said?’’

“Enough said,” she agreed mutely, effectively silenced.

Libby pressed herself into the seat, one hand wrapped tightly around the reinforcement bar on the side of the door and the other hand on the dash. She had expected him to drive up that tortuous road like a wild backwoods maniac, but he didn’t. He negotiated the deep ruts with an ease she openly admired. At times she was mesmerized by the play of muscles in his forearms as he coaxed the Jeep through the Gordian knot of curves, ruts and steep inclines. His features were closed and unreadable, but she thought she detected a fierce glimmer of challenge in his restless blue gaze as he missed nothing surrounding them. A new feeling developed within her toward Dan Wagner: she would be safe with him in this frightening environment that would be her home for the next three weeks. Maybe her foray into the wooded interior wouldn’t be so bad because Dan would be there to protect her.

“Been using those boots I sent you?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“What? Oh, the boots. Yes.” She smiled, meeting his glance. “You never did send the bill for them. Let me know how much they were and I’ll write you a check.” A golden glint of humor danced in her brown eyes. “That is, if you trust me to write you a check that won’t bounce.”

Dan Wagner’s features remained inscrutable. But for just a brief second Libby saw him thaw, and it left her breathless. Was he human after all?

“I don’t send a woman a gift and expect her to pay for it.”

Libby’s eyes widened. “B-but—” she stammered, not wanting to owe him anything. “I did some shopping at a few backpacking outlets in San Francisco, and a good pair costs upwards of—”

“What’s the matter, Doctor, do you think the gift means you owe me something in return?” he asked.

Stung, Libby gasped. “I—”

“I know, you’re one of those liberated women who can make their own way in the world. They don’t like to owe anything to anyone. Especially a chauvinistic man like myself.” He caught her startled gaze. “Correct, Doctor?”

His insight was like a knife being thrust into her heart and then twisted. Libby lowered her eyes, momentarily stunned and hurt by his cruelty. He must hate her badly. That discovery shook her to the core. She had made many friends during her life and prided herself on her ability to get along with everyone, friend or foe. But this man was not even going to give her a chance. She had few defenses to protect herself from someone like him. City life had not prepared her to compete in the harsh environment of the forest. His forest, she corrected herself. Desperately she tried to come up with a way of dealing with his caustic personality. If she played the meek female, he would run all over her. The work that had to be done would never be accomplished. On the other hand, if she brazenly challenged him in his own domain, he would win. She wouldn’t make it through the woods without his cooperation.

Libby shifted unconsciously in the bucket seat, searching for other possible approaches. She had to learn something more about Dan Wagner in order to understand why he operated the way he did. That would take some careful probing on her part. Perhaps then she could overcome enough of his animosity toward her to get her job done.

She decided to ignore his jibe and took a deep breath, initiating a new conversation as they pulled over the last hill on the ridgeline. “Have you always lived near a forest?”

Dan shifted the Jeep into low gear as they began a steep descent on the other side of the range. “I was born near here.”

“Oh? Where exactly?”

“Salmon, Idaho. It’s a small town northeast of Challis.”

“I see. So you’ve lived in the mountains all your life?”

“Practically.”

Libby caught her lower lip between her teeth. So far, so good, she told herself, realizing that the palms of her hands were wet with perspiration. “Have you always wanted to be a forester?”

Dan gave her a suspicious sidelong glance. “It was drilled into me a long time ago to stick to my own kind and stay on the side of the tracks I was born on. I’ve always lived in the country and the forests were always nearby. Why?”

“Just curious,” Libby answered quickly. Too quickly. Wagner’s blue eyes darkened considerably as he took stock of her.

“Are we playing twenty questions, Doctor? When you get done with yours, do I get to ask mine?”

Libby brightened at the thought. At least he was willing to play along. “Why not? I’m game.”

An unwilling smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll give you that,” he muttered. “All right, so far you’ve asked me three questions, Doctor. It’s my turn to ask you three. Right?”

Libby gave a brief nod of her head, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Of course.”

He shifted down again and the Jeep bucked to a near halt as they crawled around a particularly deep hole in the road. Now Libby began to appreciate his advice. If a tourist had come over that rise at forty miles an hour and hit the hole, he would have easily broken an axle and flipped his vehicle.

“Is there a man in your life?” Dan asked.

Libby’s honey-brown eyes widened for a second while she digested the question. “Well...”

“Be fair about this. I answered yours without hesitation,” he prodded.

Blushing, Libby said, “I had the respect to ask you questions that were less personal in nature, Mr. Wagner.”

He smiled the smile of a wolf. “You didn’t lay down any rules when we decided to play this game. Correct?”

“Yes,” she grated.

“Then answer my question.”

She wanted to hurl back “Why should you care?” but didn’t. Instead she simply said, “No.”

He seemed pleased with himself. Go ahead, Libby thought, sit there looking like the cat who ate the canary. So help me, I’m going to stuff it back down your throat someday soon...