Landscape architect Nick LeGrande has never experienced a more disastrous trip! When he ends up stranded in a Colorado blizzard, he’s glad to have the company of his little canine buddy, Cedric, whom circumstances forced him to bring along. Then a sexy Good Samaritan rescues them and Nick is introduced to a world he hardly knew existed. He is quickly enthralled.
Caleb Storm is a loner, a rancher whose Native American blood sets him a bit apart from most of his fellows. When a spring blizzard dumps Nick LeGrande and his tiny dog into Caleb’s life, he and his old stock dog Cheyenne hardly know what to make of their visitors.
Caleb finds Nick very attractive but doubts such a successful and urbane man could have any interest in him. However, their dogs hit it off from the start and seem to conspire to get their masters together. Can a pair of canine cupids work the necessary magic?
Nick found Caleb’s snowmobile did have room for two but only if they didn’t mind snuggling pretty close. Sitting behind, his knees bracketed Caleb’s hips and his crotch was right against Caleb’s butt. The layers of clothing somehow did little to dispel his awareness of just how intimate their positions were.
The wind had begun to pick up again which made their speed seem greater than it was. Caleb steered over the drifts and hollows with practiced skill. Although the cold was sharp, Nick found it exhilarating to skim along as they did. Since he only had to hang on, he could look around. The area was picturesque in a subdued way. The rolling hills, dusted with snow like white frosting on a strange cake, faded into the distance. Here and there a stark bush or the stalk of a yucca-like aloe plant stood up, dark against the dominant white and pale grays of the landscape. The black and red coats of Caleb’s Angus and Hereford cattle made startling splashes of color in the snow.
On the route back, Nick held on tight because Caleb drove faster, swooping up and down over some higher hills and deeper hollows with almost boyish exuberance. That was fun, taking Nick back to some of the more enjoyable parts of his youth. He’d thought the rancher staid and stuffy, practically grim, but this made him approachably human.
When they were finally back inside, he grinned at Caleb as they both struggled to get out of the stiff coveralls. “I’m sorry about the calf but the rest was fun. I haven’t been snow-mobile riding in a long time. We used to when I was a teenager. Couple of my friends had machines and we rode all over every winter while we were in high school. I know a lot of westerners don’t believe it, but New York is not all a big city. We had some pretty rugged and remote country. Good deer hunting and plenty of places to camp, fish, canoe, or whatever you wanted to do.”
Caleb finished shedding his gear first. Although the suit Nick wore clearly fit a huskier man, it made a tight fit over his parka. He twisted and tugged but made little progress. Caleb looked at him, one eyebrow arched and a twinkle in his eyes. “Need a little help?”
Nick nodded, biting back a curse. Caleb circled him, grasped the edges of the suit, and peeled it back off Nick’s shoulders. Once free of the bulk of his parka, the suit slumped around his knees in a stiff brown pile. After Nick jerked the zipper of his parka down, Caleb pulled it off, just as he had the insulated suit, tossing it to one side over a chair. Then Caleb set a hand on each of Nick’s shoulders, just resting them there.
For a half dozen breaths, Nick stood stock still absorbing the warmth and weight of the other man’s hands, feeling a sparkling tide of awareness flash through him. There was no restraint in the touch. He could have shrugged free at any instant -- but he didn’t,
Caleb’s grasp loosened. “Turn around,” he said, his voice hoarse and low.
Nick did. He felt as if he had divided into two, one that stood back and watched with puzzlement and the other that had never been more aware, more attuned to another person in his life. He looked up to meet Caleb’s fierce dark gaze, boring into his with searching force. They were so close he could count every thick black lash framing those eyes, see the fine creases and weathering that revealed the rancher’s exposure to the harsh outdoors. The chiseled lips were mere inches from his. He suddenly wondered how they would taste, how they would feel.
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