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“And I’m hindering you?” She started to get up.

“No, please, I didn’t mean that.” He turned to her. “I asked you about your ex-husband, but you didn’t answer. What’s he like?”

She took a moment before replying, “Leslie likes to win. It’s everything to him. He doesn’t care about the cost or future consequences. He just has to win right now. You know how I got custody of our son?”

“I can’t imagine.”

She took a breath. “It still terrifies me to remember what I did, and I pray that Eli will never find out. At the divorce, I told his father I didn’t want the child. I said that his extraordinary intelligence made him a freak and I didn’t want to have to spend my life with the kid.”

Frank looked at her in astonishment. “I agree that no child should hear that.”

Miranda had to swallow back tears in memory. “Eli thinks that I’m blind to Leslie’s selfishness, but I know my ex very well. When he comes over and does his little whining act about how no one’s ever given him anything, I hand him money. I don’t give very much, but he knows I’m poor so even a little is a lot.”

“I see,” Frank said. “And that lets him feel that he’s won.”

“Right,” she said. “And if he feels that he’s winning, I don’t have to fear that he’ll do something bigger.”

“Like fight you for custody of Eli,” Frank said softly.

“Exactly.”

“In your circumstances, I think that’s a very clever way to handle it all. In fact, I think what you did was a brilliant business move. You used your opponent’s weakness to your advantage. I wish the men who worked for me could be that insightful.”

She laughed, but she was pleased by what he’d said.

When it grew too cool to stay outside, they went into the cabin. Like the cave the day before, the soft firelight made the tiny cabin cozy and, well, romantic.

Miranda glanced at the single bed in the corner. How were they to handle this awkward situation? “How about if we arm wrestle for the bed?”

Frank was kneeling by the stove, poking the inside of it. He’d had an idea that she’d come up with a reason for why he should take the bed and her the floor. He stood up. “Let’s toss for it.” He pulled a coin from his pocket. “Call it.”

“Heads.”

He flipped the coin and caught it on the back of his hand. “Heads it is. You win.”

“I didn’t see the coin,” she said.

“Next time.” He was pulling sleeping bags from the packs, but struggling with the cast. “Damn thing!”

Miranda moved beside him to help, their shoulders together, the warmth of their bodies shared.

He turned to look at her and, smiling, Miranda faced him. He kissed her. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, tentative, but it was very nice.

He pulled away. “Sorry. I’m overstepping my bounds.” Abruptly, he stood up, but he didn’t look at her. “I’m . . .” He didn’t seem to know what else to say. He left the cabin.

With a sigh, Miranda unfurled the two sleeping bags, putting one on the hard floor and one on the narrow bed.

So much for being seducti

ve, she thought. She could get a man to ask her to marry him because she looked like “a fertility goddess” but she certainly didn’t inspire passion. The years she’d spent with her ex-husband had never been like what she’d read about in books. She’d been a virgin when they’d met and for years she’d thought the two kisses and four strokes were normal.

She knew the books she read were fantasy, but sometimes she wished a man would look at her with eyes blazing fire.

The thought made her giggle. She used the time Frank was outside to undress. Thanks to whoever had tampered with her luggage, the only nightgown she had was the thin one—but she hadn’t brought it with her. Instead, she’d sneaked in one of Frank’s big long-sleeved pull-on shirts. It fell down to the top of her thighs. Her legs would be bare but she thought she’d be warm enough in the sleeping bag.

She slipped inside the bag and meant to stay awake until Frank returned. But the long walk up a mountain had worn her out. She was asleep as soon as she lay down.

Thunder loud enough to split her eardrums woke her. As she sat up, lightning lit the cabin, and she gave a little involuntary scream. She wasn’t used to such storms.


Tags: Jude Deveraux Edilean Romance