Only 04 - Only Love

mentioned that Silent John had several claims,” Whip said, changing the subject. “Which was the best one?”
    “Rifle Sight.”
    “Which one is that?”
    “The highest one,” Shannon said. “Way up against the rock wall, a ravine not much bigger than the notch on a rifle sight, and a steep drop-off at the mouth of the ravine.”
    “Hard rock mining?”
    Shannon nodded.
    “Damn,” Whip said. “Tunnels?”
    “Just one.”
    “One is too many.” He grimaced. “After digging Reno out of a cave-in last year, I don’t hold much love for tunnels and mines.”
    “We could try the Chute first.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Another gold claim. It’s in the belly of an avalanche chute.”
    Whip looked out the window. Last winter’s plentiful snows still gleamed on the peaks.
    “I’ll pass on that one, thanks,” he said. “There’s too good a chance of an avalanche.”
    “Silent John usually worked that one later in the summer,” Shannon agreed, “after most of the snow was gone.”
    “What of the other claims?”
    “There’s just one more that I know of.”
    “What’s it like?”
    “Cold. Wet. It’s a miserable crack in the rock where rain collects.”
    “Silent John wasn’t a man for comfort, was he?”
    “He never said one way or the other.”
    Whip grunted and gazed past his coffee cup, considering the claims.
    “None of the claims sound real appetizing,” he said finally. “But then, if I liked digging gold, I’d have stayed in the west with Reno years ago instead of going on to China. Is there any feed for horses up at Rifle Sight?”
    “Some. There’s a meadow a quarter mile from the mine.”
    Whip grunted. “Grizzlies?”
    “That’s where the other mule died.”
    “I don’t think Sugarfoot will have a problem that way.”
    “Sugarfoot?”
    “My gelding,” Whip said absently. “They cut him too late, so he still thinks he’s king of the mountain.”
    Shannon waited while Whip held his coffee cup and stared into a distance only he could see. As she waited, she memorized the arching line of his fair eyebrows, the catlike tilt of his gray eyes, and the clean planes of his cheekbones and jaw. His mustache gleamed like captive sunlight above his lip. There was a faint sheen of coffee on his mouth.
    “What are you thinking?” Whip asked softly.
    “That I’d like to lick the coffee from your lips.”
    Hearing her own words, Shannon flushed.
    Whip’s breath came out with a low sound that could have been a curse.
    “Dangerous words, honey girl.”
    “I’m…sorry. I didn’t realize how it would sound until I said it.”
    “Give me your hand,” Whip said softly.
    Hesitantly Shannon held out her hand to him. He turned her palm up and inhaled deeply.
    “Spearmint,” he said huskily. “God, I’ll die remembering the sweet scent of you.”
    “Whip,” she whispered, her throat aching.
    Whip held Shannon’s palm to his mustache, rubbing softly against her sensitive skin.
    “I’d give you the kiss we both want,” he said, touching his tongue to her skin, “but if I feel your mouth open beneath mine right now…”
    Slowly, thoroughly, Whip tasted Shannon’s palm.
    “If I felt your mouth,” he said in a deep, low voice, “I’d start unbuttoning clothes.”
    He bit her tenderly, felt her tremble, heard her whimper with passion and surprise.
    “If I start unbuttoning clothes,” Whip said, “I’d have you right here, right now, sitting astride my thighs, and I’d watch you ride me all the way to the sun.”
    Whip looked up, pinning Shannon with blazing gray eyes.
    “Would you like that, honey girl?”
    “I…I…”
    “Don’t know?”
    “I can’t think when you touch me,” she said, her voice husky. “And when you aren’t touching me, all I can think about is the next time you’ll touch me.”
    Whip shuddered and gripped Shannon’s hand a little fiercely. He slid his tongue between two of her fingers in a hot, tender rhythm.
    “Your honesty makes me burn,” Whip saidagainst Shannon’s skin. “When you burn in the same way, come to me. I’ll wait as long as I can.”
    “Then you’ll leave?” she whispered unhappily.
    “No, honey girl. Then I’ll come to you.”

9
    “I STILL think we should split any gold we find fifty-fifty,” Shannon said stubbornly over her shoulder.
    Beneath Shannon, Razorback plodded at a surprisingly good pace up the steep game trail that led to the headwaters of the east fork of Avalanche Creek. On the trail