Kara Lennox - One Stubborn Texan

Sydney, who’d never hiked in the country or gone camping her whole life-and who’d never had a desire to do so-was actually looking forward to the hike now. She wanted to show him she wasn’t some pampered princess. Even if she didn’t like walking on dirt.

Russ led the way down the steep bank to the edge of the creek bed, offering a hand to help Sydney. She shook her head, then wished she hadn’t been so proud when she slid partway down on her butt. Thankfully, he didn’t see her lapse in grace. But her skirt was probably ruined.

They walked alongside the creek for a while, then crossed to the other side on a natural bridge formed by a tree trunk. This time, she didn’t hesitate to take the hand Russ offered. No way was she going to fall in a cold creek, even if it looked to be only a few inches deep.

The climb out of the creek bed was easier and from there they took a rough footpath through some scrubby trees. The path wasn’t difficult, and Sydney was able to fully enjoy her surroundings.

The scenery was breathtaking, with sheer limestone cliffs, pockets of heavy woods and open areas of barren rock. For most New Yorkers, her included, Texas evoked images of deserts. Cactus. Ranches and oil wells. She’d been to Austin a number of times to visit Aunt Carol, but she’d seldom ventured beyond the city limits before this trip. She never would have guessed she would encounter this kind of scenery.

The sounds of the wind in the trees, the chatter of birds, the crunch of dead leaves under her feet-they were all foreign yet intriguingly familiar to her. Surely she’d soon tire of a steady diet of this Daniel Boone stuff, but one afternoon wouldn’t hurt her.

They passed a waterfall that emptied into a deep, mysterious-looking pool and Sydney thought about how refreshing it would be to swim here on a hot summer day.

She wondered if Russ ever swam here. And if so, did he skinny-dip? Her face heated at the mental image taking shape and she shook her head to banish it before she became so distracted she smacked into a tree trunk.

As they topped a grassy rise and entered a meadow, Russ dropped back to walk next to her. “Tired?”

“No. I’m used to walking. At home, sometimes it’s faster than braving the traffic. Disappointed?”

He grinned. “You must really want to see those papers.”

She did. And yet she wasn’t all that optimistic about what she would find. Russ said he hadn’t gone through the boxes. For all anyone knew, they could be filled with old newspapers or recipes.

What was the real reason she’d been so eager to accompany Russ to his cabin? And why hadn’t she asked him more than a few superficial questions?

She knew the answer, she just hated to admit it. Russ had already told her his mother’s name was not Winifred. Didn’t that take him out of the running as the Oberlin heir? She should have returned to San Antonio and resumed her search. She had a few more Russell Kleins to go through.

But she wasn’t done with this Russell, not yet. She wasn’t done fantasizing about him. She hadn’t gotten her fill of his muscular body, his clear blue eyes and the way his mouth creased at the corners when he smiled, which wasn’t often enough. She hadn’t seen enough of the way he moved, so much a part of this wild environment, yet achingly human and all man.

They walked on in silence for a while. They’d been hiking for almost forty-five minutes when Sydney detected a sound, something new, something distinct from the pleasant din of the woods. She looked up into the trees and saw nothing out of the ordinary. She looked from side to side, still seeing nothing. Finally she glanced over her shoulder.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. The dog was loping along the trail behind her, panting happily.

“Russ? Excuse me, Russ?” she called out.

Russ stopped and turned. “Problem?” Then he spotted his dog. “Nero, what are you doing here?”

“Can your dog open car doors?” Sydney stood still as the dog sniffed her boots.

“He must have squeezed through one of the open windows.”

“If he gets those muddy paws on my skirt, I’m sending you the cleaning bill.”

“The skirt’s already ruined,” he pointed out. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Darn it, he’d noticed her clumsy fall after all.

Russ pulled a piece of rope from his backpack. He tied one end of the rope to Nero’s collar and yanked him away from Sydney. “What’s gotten into you, boy?” To Sydney he said, “I guess we have no choice but to take him with us. I hope I don’t end up carrying him back.”

Sydney pictured Russ hiking back to the car with the big dog on his shoulders. He probably wouldn’t hesitate to do so. Clearly, he was ridiculously fond of the beast.

Yet another reason she should keep her distance. As if she needed more reasons.

Russ slowed his pace slightly, remembering he had a greenhorn with him. Sydney, however, showed no signs of fatigue. She wasn’t even breathing hard, though her face was pleasantly flushed from the mild exertions

But the trail got rougher from that point on. They were hiking more or less parallel to Deer Creek, which had cut a small canyon in the limestone as it wound down the hill. They made several more crossings, sometimes using log bridges, sometimes hopping from rock to rock.

They paused at a particularly difficult spot, where the trail narrowed and climbed almost straight up for several yards. Russ pushed Nero up ahead of him, then doubled back to give Sydney a hand. As she scrambled up, a branch knocked her hat askew.

When she reached the ledge where he was standing, he straightened her hat. And there was that lone curl, dammit, dangling against her cheek.

If anything her face turned a darker shade of pink. Suddenly all he could think about was how it would feel to kiss her, to crush those full, soft lips with his and kiss her until common sense was nothing but a dim memory.

And then he did it.

She responded like a flower to the sun, open, soft, pliant. Her arms went around his neck, her fingers twining in his hair as his mouth plundered hers. He pulled her slender, lithe body against his, feeling the heat of her, smelling the essence of her, the incredible texture of her lips.

He wanted to feel more of her hair. He plunged his hands into the thick, black mass, knocking her hat off.

She made a noise in her throat that could have been excitement, or it could have been the beginnings of an objection. Whatever, it brought him to his senses. When he ended the kiss, her reaction was immediate. She pulled away from him as if he were a hot branding iron.

“I didn’t mean-”

“That wasn’t supposed-”

They both started speaking, broke off, then laughed nervously. Russ took a couple of steps back, almost falling over a rock. He needed to get out of touching range.

“I didn’t plan that,” he finally said. “It was that damn curl that fell over your cheek. It drove me temporarily insane.”

She shoved her hair behind her ears self-consciously, then retrieved her hat. It wasn’t altogether useless, he realized. At least it had a small brim that shaded her face from the sun. She repositioned her pack on her shoulders and set her gaze on the trail ahead. Russ realized the subject of the kiss was closed.

“The cabin’s not much farther.”

During the next ten minutes, Russ kept an anxious eye out over his shoulder, but Sydney seemed to be doing fine. Still, he was relieved when they made the final creek crossing. Another hundred yards and they reached a clearing with a cabin in the center.

“Oh, wow,” Sydney said, and he couldn’t tell whether she was impressed or appalled.

He remembered his own thoughts the first time he’d seen it. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, made of rough-hewn logs with a stone chimney and two porches that ran the length of the whole cabin, front and back.