River’s End

glanced over. He’d already figured out that she shifted over into the nature mode when she wanted to change the subject.
    “I’ll be here through the week,” he said. “My home number’s on file at the lodge. If you haven’t decided by the time I leave, you can get in touch later. I’ll come back.”
    “I’ll think about it.” She gave Shirley a biscuit out of the tin. “Now be quiet. One of the best parts of being here is the quiet.”
    Satisfied with the progress, Noah dug into his stew. He was toying with asking if there was more when the scream had him flipping the bowl in the air and leaping to his feet.
    “Stay here,” he ordered. “Stay right here.”
    Olivia gaped at him for five seconds, then scrambled to her feet as he turned to run toward the sound. “Stop, wait!” The breath hitched in her chest as she debated tackling him or just throwing herself in his path. She managed to grab his sleeve, yank, then nearly plowed into him after all as Shirley barreled into her, hoping a tussle was coming.
    “Someone’s in trouble.” The shriek stabbed the air again and had him pushing her back. “I want you to stay here until I—”
    “It’s a marmot.” She fought back a laugh. “Probably an Olympic marmot.”
    “What the hell is that?”
    She managed to compose her face. “Also known as rockchuck, whistle-pig or whistler, though the warning call it makes isn’t a whistle as it’s made with the vocal chords. It isn’t a damsel in distress, but a ... there.”
    With her hand still gripping his sleeve, she gestured. There were two of them with grizzled coats of gray-brown, their heavy bodies lumping along toward an outcrop of rocks. One of them stood up on its hind legs, sniffing the air, then eyeing dog and humans with a jaundiced eye.
    “They’re just out of hibernation, usually go into torpor in September and don’t surface until May. Most likely their burrow is close by. The, ah, call is their early-warning system as they’re slower than any of their predators.”
    “Terrific.” He turned his head, eyed Olivia narrowly.
    “Well, you were really brave. I felt completely protected from any terrifying marauding marmots.”
    “Smart-ass.” He tapped his fist on her chin, then left it there. Her eyes were deep and gold with humor, her lips curved and soft. Color glowed in her cheeks, and the wind ruffled her hair.
    He saw the change in her eyes, the darkening of awareness as he’d seen it years before. He thought he heard her draw in one breath, sharply, as his fingers uncurled and turned up to skim her jaw.
    He didn’t calculate the move. He just made it. The minute his mouth closed over hers, his mind clicked in and shouted mistake! But his other hand was already sliding through her hair, his teeth were already nibbling on that full lower lip to enhance the taste.
    She jerked once, as if that touch of mouth to mouth had shocked her, then went very still. In that stillness he felt the faintest of quivers, and her lips warmed under his. The combination had him nudging her closer, had him deepening the kiss though some part of him knew he should never have turned down this road again. She’d meant to shove him away, to stop him the instant she’d seen the thought come into his eyes, the instant she’d felt the answering trip of her own pulse. He paralyzed her. The rush of feelings that geysered up inside her body stunned her, left her open to more, with her hand gripping his sleeve and the blood swirling dizzily in her head.
    The way it had been between them before. Exactly as it had been. The wind rushed by them, through them, sighing through the trees, and still she couldn’t move. Not toward him or away, not to hold on or reject. That drenching sensation of helplessness terrified her.
    “Olivia.” He skimmed his hands over her face, fascinated by the angles of it, the texture.
    Both of them had changed, and yet her flavor was the same, the shape of her mouth the same, the need swimming between them, exactly the same.
    When he eased away, wanting to see it, needing to see it, he murmured again. Just “Olivia.”
    Now she pulled back, taking defense in temper. “This isn’t going to happen again.”
    “Liv.” His voice was quiet and serious. “It already is.”
    No, she told herself. Absolutely not. “Typical. That’s just typical.” She spun around and strode back to the blanket to begin tossing everything back in her pack. Typical? Noah couldn’t think of