Found In Lost Valley

The kiss was amazing, shocking, alarming, dazzling, as if stars were falling around them….

The very air went from October cool to July hot in an instant. The warmth of the stars, he thought hazily.

She didn’t caress him or even uncross her arms, but her lips…Lord, but those lips were pure liquid fire under his, hesitant at first, then moving, returning the pressure, opening to allow their tongues to meet. It was a kiss unlike any he’d ever experienced, and he’d kissed a lot since becoming cocaptain of the football team last year.

When he lifted his head and gazed down into her face, his heart thudded even harder. In the moonlight, her skin was the pure white of the marble veins he found running through the granite in the mountains. There was something so remote and unexpected about her….

He kissed her again, then groaned and pulled her closer so that they were half lying in the swing, her softness on top, pressing into him. For the first time, he knew, really knew, why kisses weren’t enough.

Her breasts were firm against his chest, her lips like cool fire dancing under his. Shifting, he pushed a cushion behind his back and lifted her so that he could slide one leg between hers. Half turning, he captured her body between his and the swing, the movement setting up a brief, wild gyration that broke the kiss.

They clung to each other and, as their eyes met, smiled. For a second, he couldn’t breathe, then they were kissing again…and touching in ways he’d never let happen with other girls.

When the need became unbearable, he pulled back enough to ask, “Where can we go?”

“There’s a carriage house,” she murmured, pressing kisses onto his chest.

He didn’t know when or how his shirt became unfastened. The cold air rushing across him brought back a measure of sanity. He held her face between his trembling hands and looked into her eyes.

Hot golden arcs of passionate intensity were visible in those moon-dark depths, along with a sweet vulnerability that reached to his soul. He realized how dangerously, desperately close to the edge they were.

“I have plans,” he said, summoning the only defense he could think of. “College. And law school. It’ll be years.”

Her expression changed in the blink of an eye, the raw honesty of passion was gone. Sense and caution returned. He felt the loss like the sharp pain of a paper cut.

She sat up and, with quick, precise movements, fitted the bodice of the old-fashioned dress into place, covering the delectable flesh he’d kissed and explored so thoroughly.

“I know,” she said in a flat tone that gave nothing away. “It doesn’t matter. Thanks for seeing me home.”

With that she was gone. He heard the click as the door locked behind her, observed her outline through the etched glass panes as she turned away. That was the last he saw of her until spring. At that time, she returned to school and finished the year, a straight-A student who looked at him with cool blue eyes that didn’t invite friendship or confidences anymore.

After graduation he left town on a construction job, then entered the university that fall. He rarely was back for more than a week at a time after that.

Rolling now to one side, then the other, his body tense with the haunting hunger from tonight and the dance long ago, Seth knew he was in for a restless night. Memories and the knowledge that Amelia was only steps away would see to that.

From that intriguing here-today-gone-tomorrow girl, she’d grown into a lovely woman, her gaze still cool, her hair a halo of curls surrounding a heart-shaped face just the way it had that enchanted evening so long ago.

For the oddest moment, he was filled with regret that they hadn’t shared everything the night of the Harvest Moon ball, when their passion had been innocent and honest and so very sweet in a way he couldn’t describe. But it was better that they hadn’t. Both of them had had a long way to go before they could think seriously of involvement.

So. He’d become an attorney as planned. She’d married, divorced, then returned to Lost Valley and started a very successful bed-and-breakfast inn after her grandparents had passed away within months of each other seven years ago. He’d handled the settling of the estate.

Amelia had changed quite a bit in the intervening years, becoming friendly and outgoing. She’d even played her guitar and sung in a community musical that summer. The appealing vulnerability of youth had disappeared, replaced by the confidence of a woman who knew exactly who she was and where she was going.

Seth wondered what other changes life had made in her, and fell asleep still wondering….

Chapter Two

Amelia opened the door as quietly as possible. It was six o’clock, her usual time to start the workday.

The sitting room was silent and dim in the predawn hour. Treading carefully, she made sure her loafers didn’t make a sound on the carpet as she crept by the sofa bed.

Seth lay with one bare arm across his face, the other to the side. The sheet and blanket were pushed halfway down his chest, which was also bare. His long-sleeved shirt lay over the back of the sofa. One leg was outside the covers, the sweatpants apparently providing enough warmth for him.

When he stirred restlessly and kicked the blanket aside, she noticed the definitive ridge on his lower body, clearly outlined by the gray sweats.

A thrill of…shock? surprise? excitement? raced through her entire body with the speed of light. She stood there staring as if she’d never seen a man’s aroused body in her life.

Certainly not this man’s, some cynical part of her observed, although once they’d kissed and caressed each other with the greatest intimacy she’d ever known. But that was long ago. She’d avoided him after that, just as he had her, his manner pleasant but remote the few times they’d met.

Pulling her gaze from his sleeping form, she hastily stepped forward before her thoughts went even further off track, as her dreams had done last night. Her foot landed on something unexpected, an object that flipped to the side, causing her ankle to turn with a sharp pain.

She flailed her arms, but it was too late; Amelia landed with a muffled grunt right on top of her guest.

With a muttered curse, he sprang instantly awake and into action. Before she could say a word, she was caught in bands of steel, tossed onto her back and held captive against the mattress by hands on her wrists and a long, powerful, masculine body pinning her in place.

She stared at him as if he were indeed a predator about to rip her to shreds. “I’m really sorry,” she said in a strangled voice. “I tripped.”

His chest moved against her as he inhaled deeply. The ridge she’d noticed was now pressed into her abdomen. It took only a split second for the fact to register; and her eyes flew to his.

He observed her with a harsh, unblinking stare, then slowly relaxed—though not in the lower extremities—and finally he smiled slightly. “You’re up early.”

“I always get up at five-thirty.” Her voice was stilted and defensive. “Please,” she added, and moved slightly.

He rolled off her and rose in one smooth motion. She scrambled to a sitting position, pulling her sweater into place over her slacks, then stood, careful to set her feet on the carpet rather than his classy wing-tipped shoes, which, she now realized, were what had tripped her up.

A fierce pain shot up her leg and she sat down abruptly in surprise at this additional indignity. This was not going to be her day.

“What is it?” he asked, kicking the shoes aside and settling on his haunches in front of her. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“My ankle, I think.” She thought of all the work that had to be done that morning.

“Let me see.”

She froze when he lifted her foot, removed her loafer and probed gently. His fingers were long and lean, the skin deeply tanned in contrast to her paleness. Heat swept up her leg to lodge in some turbulent place inside her.

“I’m fine—ouch!” she said.

“There’s swelling and bruising already starting along each side of the ankle bone,” he told her, examining the place again. “We need to ice it down before it gets worse.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I don’t have time. I have to help Marta in the kitchen, with breakfast and all.”

He shook his head. “You won’t be doing anything on this foot today, or for the week, probably. Maybe we should have Beau take an X ray. It could be fractured.”

“It isn’t,” she insisted. “I can walk it off.”

She pushed him away before she did something really stupid, like drag him back onto the bed and… Well, beyond that, she couldn’t think.

He glanced up at that instant. His hair was mussed, and one stubborn curl fell over his forehead. She swallowed hard as she recalled a time when she’d caught those shiny strands in her fists and pulled his lips to hers.

Her eyes locked with his. His bare chest moved against her knee as he inhaled sharply.

She realized he must have seen the blatant hunger that had swept through her at his touch, and she quickly looked away. She wasn’t sure which pained her the most—the sprained ankle or the need that twisted her insides into knots.

A door slammed in another part of the house.

“Marta’s here,” Amelia said, relieved. “I have to go.”

“Give me ten minutes,” he requested.

When he grabbed his duffel and headed for the bathroom, she hobbled out of the suite and down the hall to the kitchen. Her ankle wasn’t so bad, she decided. She could handle standing on it.

“What happened to you?” her helper asked, already mixing muffins to go in the oven.

“Tripped,” Amelia reported wryly.

“Huh, maybe you’d better take it easy today,” Marta suggested. “I can get the stuff on the buffet.”

Amelia shook her head. Wonderful smells were coming from the oven, where cinnamon apples had baked to perfection. She’d put them in the night before and set the timer so they’d be ready that morning. She loved the way they scented the whole house and brought her guests hurrying to the great room to sample the simple but delicious fare.

After making a cup of tea, she slipped on mitts and did fine getting the baking dish out of the oven. But when she turned and stepped forward, pain shot up her leg, so harsh she gasped aloud. Her ankle gave way.

Hands closed over the mitts and steadied her until she could set the dish on the counter. “I told you to stay put,” Seth snapped, his dark eyes shooting sparks at her.

“Seth Dalton?” Marta said, looking from him to the hallway behind him. There was only one bedroom in that wing of the house.

“In the flesh,” he said in that same snarly tone. “Sit here,” he told Amelia, practically tossing her onto a stool and yanking off her shoe, only to throw it aside in one fluid motion. “Where’s some ice?”

Marta pointed wordlessly.

Grabbing a dish towel, he filled it with ice chips, then wrapped it around Amelia’s ankle, ending by tying another around the whole. “There,” he said.

Amelia stared at her foot in consternation. “I can’t work with this on.”

“Good. Because you’re not going to.”

With that, he lifted her from the stool, carried her to the sofa in the great room, placed her on it, removed her other shoe and carefully propped both feet on a velvet pillow. He grabbed a chenille throw from the shorter divan, gave it a shake and settled it over her legs.

After giving her a threatening scowl that told her she’d better stay put, he turned on the gas to start the logs in the large fireplace burning.

“Anything else you need?” he demanded.

She shook her head.

“Breakfast,” Marta called out, observing all this from the kitchen doorway.

He nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

Feeling utterly stupid, Amelia stayed where she’d been plunked and wondered what she’d done to deserve this. Her ankle throbbed fiercely, the icy coldness added its own ache, and she felt really, really wretched.

“Marta says you drink tea.”

A cup was thrust under her nose. She took it, but not before giving the overbearing Samaritan a glare.

He grinned and disappeared into the kitchen. For the next half hour, Amelia watched as he brought out trays filled with muffins and loaves of Marta’s special breads, as well as bowls of fruit and yogurt, jars of homemade jams and jellies and the baking dish filled with apples. Soon the sideboard, which she used to let her guests help themselves buffet-style, was filled. Coffee, tea and juice were placed on a granite-topped table close by.

Right on time at six-thirty, breakfast was ready. Seth went into the kitchen and returned with a tray, which he placed across Amelia’s lap. The cook followed at his heels and gave Amelia a significant glance before handing him a second tray. Marta headed back to the kitchen while Seth hooked the rung of a chair with his foot and pulled it close to the sofa.

“Ahh, delicious,” he said, using his fork to cut off a bite of baked apple, and eating it with relish. “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked, seeing her watching him.

Amelia picked up her fork. “I usually just have fruit in the morning.”

“You could stand to gain a pound or two,” he advised.

Huh, that was easy for him to say. If he only knew how hard she worked to keep the weight off!

But the scrambled eggs looked perfect, as did the sourdough English muffin, which Marta knew she loved. Not to mention the apple oozing with butter and sugar and cinnamon and sitting on a square of flaky crust. After the first bite, Amelia was lost. She cleaned up everything on the plate.

Seth removed the tray and refilled the teacup without a word, although one black eyebrow did arch upward a bit in a superior male manner. He checked the amount of melting in the ice pack on her ankle, gave a grunt that she assumed meant it was okay, and left to assist Marta.

For the next three hours, he kept the buffet supplied, her ankle iced and her cup full. Amelia hardly noticed the ache as guests came and went, all of them sympathetic over her fall, their curious glances going often to Seth as he returned to her side between every chore.

When the meal was over and the nature lovers were out hiking in the blustery wind, since, fortunately, the rain had stopped, she dropped off to sleep, content for the moment.

Shortly after noon, Beau Dalton entered the B and B, black doctor’s bag in hand. It didn’t take a lot of smarts for Amelia to know why he was there.

“Ah, the patient,” he said, smiling as he spotted her lying on the sofa like the heroine of a novel.

“Hi. I didn’t know doctors made house calls anymore. Or still had black bags, for that matter.”

He waved the bag at her. “Sure, that’s what makes us official.” He glanced hopefully toward the empty buffet table. “I was promised lunch if I stopped by. Got any of those baked apples left?”

Seth came out of the kitchen. “I saved you one, but it was a struggle. I had to arm wrestle two paying guests for it.”

“I’ll remember you in my will,” Beau promised. He came to Amelia and lifted the chenille throw. “Let’s see what the problem is with this ankle.” He whistled appreciatively when he saw the bruising.

“Bad, huh?” Seth asked, squatting beside his cousin.

Amelia waited anxiously for Beau’s diagnosis. He probed gently, moved her toes, tickled her instep by running his nails lightly across it, then studied the bruising again. Opening the bag, he removed a stretchy bandage and proceeded to wrap her ankle securely, making her whole foot nearly immobile. And impossible to fit into a shoe.

“Not bad at all, considering,” the doctor announced when he finished. “Keep the ice on it today and tomorrow. That’s held the swelling down nicely and will speed the recovery better than anything. As a nurse, I’ll give you a recommendation anytime, bro,” he told Seth. “In fact, I could use someone in the office.”

“Huh.” Seth only grunted in response to this amused suggestion.

“As for you,” Beau said, turning back to Amelia. “Stay off the ankle for at least a week, then take it easy about getting back to work. If it isn’t better by Monday, stop by for an X ray. Listen to your body,” he advised. “In a few days, we’ll start you on some physical therapy exercises so the joint doesn’t permanently tighten up on you. Six months and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Six months!” She was aghast. “I can’t lie around for six months. I have a ton of work to do. Honey and I are going to remodel the carriage house this winter.”

Honey was married to another Dalton cousin and rented the carriage house for a dance and exercise studio.

“No way,” Beau said quite cheerfully. “You can’t lift drywall or anything heavier than a mop bucket for the next several weeks. You’ve pulled some ligaments and it’ll take time for them to heal. If you’re careful and do the exercises, you’ll be fine. If not…”

Amelia felt her spirits sink as Beau shrugged, indicating it was up to her. Money was an issue. She’d managed to break even after three years and had made a profit during the four years since then, but it wasn’t a big profit. Other than part-time help, she did everything herself, which was how she’d been able to survive.

“She’ll do exactly as you tell her,” Seth said in his no-nonsense manner. “It was my fault she fell. I left my shoes beside the bed, and she tripped on them.”

A beat of silence followed this statement. It wasn’t until Beau glanced from his cousin to her, humor and speculation rife in his gorgeous blue eyes, that Seth’s words—and their implication—dawned on her.

“No,” she quickly corrected, “he didn’t mean… It wasn’t like that.”

“Right,” Seth chimed in. “I meant the sofa, not Amelia’s bed. I left my shoes by the sofa in her sitting room, not her bedroom.”

“I understand.” Beau bent forward and closed the black bag, but Amelia knew he was hiding a smile.

“All the rooms were full, so Seth slept on the sofa bed in my sitting room,” she explained.

“It was late when I arrived,” Seth added, “so I thought I would stay here rather than go out to the ranch in the storm.”

“I tried to sneak out without disturbing him this morning,” Amelia continued, “but without a light on, I didn’t notice his shoes. I tripped and fell right on top of him.”

“Scared me out of a sound sleep. I thought I was being attacked and grabbed her, pinning her to the mattress. I didn’t realize she was hurt.”

Beau grinned openly. “Not a bad way to wake up—having a beautiful woman fall into your bed and your arms. I’ll mention it to Shelby.”

The doctor had recently gotten engaged to his nurse. With two Daltons married and a third engaged, Amelia knew their uncle Nick was pleased. He planned on getting them all settled before he kicked the bucket, as he so delicately put it. At the thought, her eyes went to Seth.

He was looking at her, too. As clearly as if she could read his mind, she knew he was recalling those moments when, surprised out of sleep, he’d rolled her under him, his strong masculine body covering hers like a living shield, holding her there while his consciousness caught up with his instinctive self-protective reaction.

A tremor assailed her as she also relived those breath-stealing moments. The intimacy of the early morning hour. The mussed bed. The sleepy warmth of his body. The hardness that pressed into her abdomen. The excitement that had drummed through her. And through him.

“Where’s that lunch?” Beau demanded.

“I’ll get it.” Seth went into the kitchen and returned with a loaded tray. He served soup, made by Marta before she left, and tuna salad sandwiches. He gave Amelia a big glass of milk and told her to “drink up” when she asked for tea, as if she were a child who needed the extra nourishment.

“You’re in for it now,” Beau warned her. “When Seth takes you under his wing, there’s no escape. He’ll boss you around and drive you nuts until you realize he’s relentless. It’s best to just give in from the first.”

“Yeah?” Seth challenged. “The way you guys do when I suggest ways to maximize your savings and minimize your taxes?”

Beau rolled his eyes heavenward. “A dollar a week isn’t a reasonable amount for spending money.”

Amelia listened to the affectionate give and take between the men while they finished the meal. She’d once wished desperately for a family like that. She’d been twelve before she’d accepted that it was never going to happen. She was always going to be the only child of parents who argued over every decision, every turn in their marriage.

“Enough of this frivolity,” Beau declared shortly, glancing at his watch. “Time for me to be back at work.”

After he left, Seth cleaned up their dishes, then disappeared for a few minutes. When he came back, he hoisted Amelia into his arms. She instinctively flung her own arms around his neck and held on.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded. Her voice came out husky instead of stern.

“To bed.” He grinned and raised one thick black eyebrow in challenge. His eyes, so close now, met hers briefly, then returned to the hallway. “Time for your nap.”

She found that the sitting room had been put to rights and the gas logs blazed merrily. He placed her on the restored sofa with a pillow under her head, then fluffed the blanket he’d used during the night over her supine form.

“Sleep,” he suggested, his voice also husky.

She hesitated, then said, “Thanks for your help this morning. I never would have made it.”

“No problem. Yell if you need me.”

He left her alone in the sitting room, which had been her grandparents’ bedroom during their fifty-six years of marriage.

The African violets on the windowsills were a personal legacy from her grandmother. Gran had loved the flowers, and Amelia did, too. They were the one thing she prized and took infinite care in growing. They rewarded her efforts with profuse blooms.

Like children, she thought, they thrived under loving care. That part of her life was empty, and she wondered if she missed it. She’d planned on having two or three or even four kids so they wouldn’t be lonely.

As she’d been lonely?

The question pinged around inside her like a ball ricocheting off the walls of a handball court.

Yes, she admitted with a yawn. Vagabond children, sent hither and yon at what seemed like the whim of adults, were always lonely.

“No, I’ll stay here until I can get things settled,” Seth said into the telephone.

“The accident was your fault?” Uncle Nick asked.

“Yeah. As you often told us—don’t leave your things out so others will trip over them. I left my shoes in the way and Amelia stumbled over them. Beau says it’s a bad sprain. Pulled ligaments can take up to a year to mend.”

“You’re going to stay there and nurse her for a year?”

Seth frowned impatiently at the gleeful mischief in his favorite relative’s voice. “Of course not. However, it makes sense for me to stay in town while I’m establishing an office here. The B and B is perfect for that.”

There was a pause on the other end of the telephone line. “I’m glad you’re coming home,” Uncle Nick told him, “but is this a good time, what with the economy in a bad way and all? CNN reported the stock market was down again.”

“Well, I’m starting slow,” Seth reminded the older man. “I’ll work Thursdays and Fridays in the office I’m setting up at Beau’s place, and stay in the city Monday through Wednesday while I see how it goes.”

Uncle Nick gave his approval. “Good thinking. Sharing expenses at the office should help a lot.”

“It will.” Seth checked the time. “I’ve got to call my law partner in Boise, see Beau about the office, then it’ll be time for the social hour here. A man’s work is never done,” he quipped, then said goodbye and hung up.

He finished his business calls, then went quietly to Amelia’s private quarters. Yep, she was sleeping like a cherub on the sofa, which was a lot more comfortable than the Victorian one in the great room.