ignorance, Mary became sour. She wanted nothing to do with most of them. Only a few treated her with respect and kindness, and they were few and far between.
Ambling along at an easy pace, she guided Blue along the side of the dirt road leading home, trying to forget the townsfolk and their notions, not at all happy to return to a house with nothing but seven dogs and a hut full of furs to be skinned and tanned, waiting for her.
The road toward home curved around huge boulders, thick wilderness, and beautiful rolling hills, all beneath towering mountains. The scenery never failed to impress her.
An hour later she unsaddled Blue and urged him into his stall in the little barn beside the house. Once he was tucked away and content with an apple treat, hay, and water, she made her way across the yard.
It was well past dinnertime, but she didn’t feel like cooking. Instead, she grabbed a bottle of rum, put on her favorite jazz CD, and settled onto the chair beside the living room window.
With the beautiful view of the wilderness around her home, Mary sipped her drink and stared outside, until the jagged tips of the surrounding mountains no longer felt like her prison guards.
* * * *
A cool blast of air whipped her hair about. Evergreen and poplar branches swayed in the wind. A mountain fresh scent filled the swirling air.
She glanced up at the pale blue sky, wondering if Tom was staring down at her with his ever-present scowl. What would he think of her now, surviving without him?
One of the dogs wined, followed by a long, low howl from the others. To anyone else it may have sounded like a pack of wolves lingering nearby. To Mary the sound was eerie and beautiful.
She paused along her trek by the river. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled.
A familiar hum resounded through the mountain range.
Her eyes widened as that all-too-familiar black chopper crested the nearest mountain peak.
Oh God. Not him.
She made a mad dash for the house, hoping to have a few minutes to do something reasonable with herself. Maybe put half a face on, or powder her puff. Thank God she had power and running water out here on this side of the mountain.
Time to play.
She tossed her hat and coat somewhere near the hallway table and ran into the bathroom. Quickly, she washed her hands and set out to fix herself up, excited yet angry that her unexpected guest could be a tall blond man with dangerous blue eyes. If it was him she’d slap the crooked grin right off his sexy face. Since Tom’s death, the handsome criminal couldn’t seem to leave her alone.
The dogs barked with excitement. Mary’s hands shook as she removed her clips, whipped her shoulder-length hair about and clouded her head with hairspray. She applied some concealer and powder, pinched her cheeks, and rushed to the back door just in time as the unmarked chopper set down in the clearing on the other side of her driveway.
Frozen in the back door, Mary watched, transfixed, as the passenger door to the chopper opened. He stepped down, tall and lithe, dressed in a black leather bomber and blue jeans. He hunched low to avoid the blades whirling above his head, his golden hair whipping around as he came toward her with intent, with dark purpose, eyes flashing deep sexual desires. She should step back and lock the door. She should grab her rifle.
But she couldn’t.
There was something about him that made her stand there like a nervous fool, unable to tell him to leave her alone.
Since his last visit, her dreams had been plagued with hot, sweaty nights, naked in his arms. She’d awaken with her fingers between her legs, shrieking in delightful orgasm or on the very edge, it tormented her all day. Her cheeks heated as he slowed his pace and took the first step at the back door.
“Hello, Mary.”
His voice. His voice did things to her insides that should be punishable by law. Maybe he had a handful of women waiting to please him back in the city. Maybe he had all the wrong