Angels Fall

my way back East sooner or later. Probably not Boston. Maybe Vermont. I went to school there, so it's familiar. I was sure I'd miss the green. That East Coast green."
    "'The meadows get green, and the flats bloom, the marshes. It's a picture."
    "I bet it is, but so is this. Better than that glass of wine." She tipped her head back, closed her eyes and just breathed.
    "You look like that sometimes when you're cooking."
    She opened her eyes again, the deep Spanish brown. "I do? Like what?"
    "Relaxed and calm. Happy."
    "I guess that's where I'm confident, and being confident makes me relaxed and happy. And I've missed it. I couldn't make myself go into a kitchen after what happened. It stole that from me, or I let it be stolen from me. Whatever, I'm getting it back. Listen to the birds. I wonder what they are."
    He hadn't noticed the birdsong until she mentioned it. Now she turned to look around, and her eyes went wide. She gripped his arm, pointed. "Look. Wow."
    When he did, he saw the small herd of bison, munching their way over the sage flats. "First sighting there, too?"
    "Like the bear, I've seen them. But I've never been standing out with them. It's more exciting. Oh look! Babies."
    She'd softened on the word, drawing it out like it was melting.
    "Why do women always say babies in just that tone?"
    She merely batted the back of her hand at his arm. "They're so sweet, and then they get so big."
    "Then you fry them up on the grill."
    "Please, I'm having a really nice nature moment here. Seeing them makes me wish I was riding a horse instead of riding in an SUV. More, you know, home on the range on a horse. I want to see an antelope," she decided. "Well, first I'd have to know how to ride one."
    "You want to ride an antelope?"
    "No." She laughed again, low and easy. "Crossed my thoughts. I want to see an antelope while I'm riding a horse. But I don't know how to ride."
    "Didn't Lo offer to teach you?"
    She slid her hands into her pockets, still watching the herd. "That's not what he wanted me to ride. But I may take him up on it—the horseback riding lesson—when I'm sure he'll behave."
    "You like your men to behave?"
    "Not necessarily," she said absently. "But in his case."
    The alarm bells didn't go off until after he'd turned, planted his hands on the hood on either side of her and caged her in.
    "Brody."
    "'You're not stupid, and you're not slow. Jittery's different. Do you want to tell me you didn't figure this was coming?"
    Her heart kicked, and maybe some of it was fear. But not all of it. "My mind hasn't been focused in this area for a long time. I guess it slipped by me. Mostly slipped by me," she corrected.
    "If you're not interested, you'd better make it dear."
    "Of course I'm interested, it's just—whoa."
    The last word all but squeaked out as he took her arms, lifted her right up to her toes. "You'd better get your breath," he warned. "We're going for a dive.
    She couldn't get her breath, or her brains, or her balance. The dive was steep and sudden so that the air that had been so fresh and cool went pumping hot. His mouth wasn't patient or kind, didn't persuade or seduce. It just took what it wanted. The sensation of being swept up, swept away, swept apart left her giddy and loose.
    Hot, she thought. Hard, she thought. Hungry. She'd nearly forgotten what it was like to have a man hunger for the taste of her, then take his fill.
    Even as she wondered it there d be anything left of her when he was done, her arms locked around his neck. His hands gripped her hips and yanked her roughly against him.
    Her heart pounded against his—beat after hard, tast beat. And she trembled. But her mouth was as avid as his; her arms twined firm around his neck. It wasn't fear he tasted as he ravaged her lips, but shock spearing through a sultry blast of need.
    Because he wanted more, he simply hitched her up by the hips until she sat on the hood of his car. Then he moved in, and took more.
    Maybe she lost her mind, and she'd worry about it later. But for now she gave in to the demands of her body and hooked her legs around his waist.
    "Touch me." She nipped his bottom lip, his tongue. "Touch me somewhere. Anywhere."
    His hands streaked under the soft cotton of her sweater, closed over her breasts. The moan broke from her as her body strained for more. More contact, more sensation, more everything. His hands were rough and hard, like the rest of him, rough and hard and direct. Strong, so that everywhere he touched she