Jennifer Greene - Baby, Its Cold Outside

BLAME IT ON THE BLIZZARD
Jennifer Greene

DEEP FREEZE
Merline Lovelace

MELTING POINT
Cindi Myers

To the real Rick
Not just a wonderful guy,
but one of the true heroes in my life

Jennifer Greene

W HEN E MILIE B ARTLETT HEARD the battering thuds belowit sounded as if someones fist was pounding on the front doorshe burrowed under the heap of blankets without bothering to open her eyes.

She wasnt sleeping.

She hadnt slept since she could remember.

But there was no one at the front door. There couldnt be. When the seaplane brought her in two days before, the blizzard had been predicted. The pilot had argued and protested about leaving her, but Emilie knew what she was getting into.

She hadnt spent time in her familys Alaskan lodge in years, but the week before Christmas, the weather was predictable. The snow had started yesterday, silent and soft. Then the wind begantufty and capricious at first.

By midyesterday, the view from every window was a whiteout, and the winds had turned into an orchestra of trumpet blows and percussion and high-pitched screams in every nook and cranny. No one could feel more alone than in the middle of an Alaskan blizzard, but that was exactly what Emilie wanted. To be alone where no one could reach herat least until the holiday season was completely over.

Shed just snuggled in tight again when she heard a second round of pounding.

This time she pulled the down comforter over her head. It was one thing to be depressed, another thing to be delusional. There was no one at the door. The closest house was two miles away and probably uninhabitedfew stuck out the winters around Silver Bay; the weather was just too unrelentingly rough.

The wind was ferocious enough to create all kinds of eerie, unpredictable sounds. She just had to ignore them.

The next time she opened her eyes, the bedside clock claimed it was ten the next morning. Startled at how deeply shed slept, she stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping over her shearling slippers. The loft bedroom was dark, of course. At this time of year, it was night-dark except for a few hours a day. The wind was screaming like a howling banshee, even worse than when shed gone to sleep.

She took five minutes in the redwood bathroom to clean up and brush her teeth, then hustled into clothes. She opted for layers, naturally, choosing a Synchilla zip-up over long wool pants and heavy socks. As an afterthought, she scooped up a couple books and some extra clothes. Probably, with a blizzard this fierce, she should conserve heat, shut off the two loft bedrooms and just live downstairs for a few days.

That was a decision shed make after coffee, she decided, and aimed down the dim staircase.

On the third step, she faltered. Out of nowhere, the childs face popped into her mindthe scared eyes, the so-white face, the boyish shock of cowlicks, the smile shed finally managed to coax out of him in the operating room. That smilegone. The light in his eyesgone.

Ruthlessly she slammed the memory from her mind. Shed deal with it. That was why she was here, holed up away from everyone over the holiday. To deal with it.

But not yet. She just wasnt ready.

The staircase led directly to the massive room below. The entire downstairs was open. Behind the staircase, the kitchen and dining area faced east. Just ahead of her was the sweep of living space, dominated by the man-tall white stone fireplace. The hearth screen darkened the already shadowed room, but she could still make out the healthy bed of golden embers. The furnace was going strong, but building up a serious fire would add a ton of warmth.

Three huge leather couches framed the hearth. She dropped the books and spare clothes on one, turned around and abruptly connected with something solidsomething big and bulky and strangely warm. She tripped over the object and heard a groana human groan, a human male groan.

Her first instinct was to be scared out of her mind, but there was no time for panic to even registershe couldnt stop herself from falling, tumbling headlong, over the body.

The crash wasnt pretty. The thick hearth rug saved her head from a serious bump, but an elbow smacked against something hard enough to send shooting pains up her arm. Her ankle twisted. Her hand scrabbled into the piled logs in the cradle.

None of that remotely mattered.

Hell, the voice repeated several times. The voice so definitely wasnt hers. It was a tenor. Sleepy. Male.

Very male.

He repeated Hell a few more times, making her think that possibly his vocabulary was limited. But then he seemed to remember a few more words. Im sorry. Damn it. Are you all right? I never meant to scare the wits out of you.

You didnt. He most certainly hadbut Emilie couldnt imagine a reason in the universe to admit it. She scrambled off him, hit her elbow again on the hearth, and still managed to push away from him fast. She hauled in a lungful of air. Look, I get it, she said swiftly. I have no idea why you were out in the storm, but obviously, you must have needed shelter. Its perfectly all right. I just didnt expect anyone to be here, so you startled me.

I did need shelter, and I knew the lodge was here. But I didnt expect to see smoke in the chimneyand I never expected to find a woman here. I did knock, I swear. And kept knocking. But no one answered, and the door wasnt locked. I had to get in. I was beyond cold. Hurt.