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Her skin was pale and creamy, and she looked well-nourished. He gently touched her shoulder. She seemed to be breathing evenly. He had to get this woman help.

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Her eyelids fluttered open, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. Her foot twitched, and then she sank back into unconsciousness. He quickly assessed her for any injuries. Although sunshine had struggled through the dove-gray clouds only a few moments ago, the whole sky had suddenly turned to an ominous shade of gray. His blood chilled. He had to get her to safety. Gathering her in his arms, he strode toward his cabin, carrying her easily.

The sudden temperature drop bit into his skin through the layers of his long-sleeved shirt and jacket.

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His cabin was the smallest dwelling on the ranch, but it suited him fine — one bedroom, one bathroom, a living room, and kitchen. It was all he needed. He draped the rug over the woman, wanting to raise her body temperature. She only looked around twenty-six or twenty-seven. What was she doing here?

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How did she get here? Their property boundary stretched for miles. And more important, why was she unconscious on the riverbank? He crossed to the wood stove, stoking up the embers and putting in another log, watching with satisfaction as the orange-red blaze kick-started into life. Keeping her warm was his first priority. Just as he was about to get another blanket, her eyes fluttered, then closed again.

Her dark eyelashes stood out starkly against her pale eyelids. The only evidence of her ordeal was her parched lips. Wind rattled in the chimney, and rain pelted against the windows and roof. The interior of the cabin suddenly darkened, as if somebody had flicked off a light switch. Zach turned on the living room light, then crossed back to the sofa, studying her face once more. Her eyelids fluttered again, and this time remained open. She squinted, as if the overhead light was too bright for her eyes. Then she licked her dry lips and looked at him through hazel eyes flecked with gold.

Drink this.


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The man held a glass of water to her lips. Her hand shook as she curled her fingers around the tumbler, the cool, wet liquid feeling good against her arid lips and throat. He was tall, with short, dark brown hair. Hawk-like brown eyes that looked like they would never miss anything. Craggily handsome face. She guessed him to be in his early thirties. A deep, masculine voice she somehow found oddly comforting. He looked like he worked outdoors; his broad shoulders under his denim shirt appeared to be well muscled. Her gaze flickered to the dwelling walls.

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She was in some kind of cabin. But she had no idea how — or why - she was there. Solid, old-fashioned, dependable looking oak furniture — somehow it reminded her of the man standing over her.

She glanced down at the crocheted rug covering her. The pink, white, and blue granny squares with black borders looked like they had been made a long time ago with loving care. A wood burning stove in the corner gave out welcome warmth, the flickering flames dancing inside. I found you on the riverbank and brought you here, he replied, scrutinizing her expression. The closest town is Spring River Bend. She shook her head. The name of the ranch meant nothing to her. Why would she be on a ranch in Montana? He disappeared into another room and returned seconds later. He wrapped a blue blanket around her shoulders, as if she were made of crystal.

She smiled at him weakly. She closed her eyes as a sudden pain in her head overwhelmed her. Putting her hand up to her forehead, as if that would somehow stop the throbbing ache, she closed her eyes. But when she opened them, she saw him — Zach — standing close by, looking at her with concern on his face.

You might be concussed.

He straightened, then ran his hands over her head. You have a bump - here. His fingers stroked the tender spot. His fingers felt cool and capable against her scalp. In another world, she would have given into the temptation to lean into his touch. Did he know who she was? Had she known him before her concussion?

She must have hit her head somehow. But why had she been on the riverbank? Had he put her there?

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Instantly, she dismissed the notion. Instinct told her he had nothing to do with her current situation, save for bringing her to his cabin and keeping her warm. Somehow, she sensed she could trust him with her innermost secrets, and he would keep her safe. He opened a cupboard in the small kitchen next to the living room and took out a cardboard box, shaking out two pills. Zach crossed back to the sofa, holding out the tablets and a glass of water.

She took the pills from his outstretched hand, trying not to touch his palm with the tips of her fingers. But her hand shook, and she grazed his work-toughened palm with the pad of her finger. She inhaled shakily as a ripple of awareness raced down her spine. Swallowing the pills, she held out the glass to him.


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He took it from her, and set it on the coffee table.