Body Heat (Vintage Category Romance) by Maddie James Page A

because he still was so angry—Darian wearily trudged through the several inches of snow to the turkey and stood over it. An odd sensation washed over him, as if he should thank the turkey for its sacrifice to nourish his body—as the Indians did, and possibly still do, he didn’t know. For he had learned so much these past four years living off the land. He had learned a new respect for every living thing, from a tiny plant to a flesh-eating predator. He’d learned to live as one within the ecosystem surrounding him. He’d learned to survive.
    And if anything, he was that. A survivor.
    So why in the hell was one snip of a woman causing him so much fucking hardship? And heartache? And coming dangerously close to upsetting that ecosystem? But more importantly, make him do the one thing he’d promised himself he’d never do again. Run. Yes, she was right; he was running away from her. Fast and hard.
    He had wanted her. God, how he’d wanted her. And not only to release his physical need but also to join with her and become one with her. To take her and mesh their two worlds together. To meld her into a part of his ecosystem. To love her, care for her, to respect her as part of his world.
    Fantasy, it ’s all a fantasy. It wouldn’t be like that, if they were together. Things would change. And not for the better.
    A s he had looked down on her, lying there so vulnerable and soft and freely giving to him, he could only think of himself as the vilest flesh-eating predator alive, and she, the tiny wood nymph, the tender flower—so much the opposite of him.
    So different. So beautiful.
    Vulnerable?
    Maybe. Or was that himself?
    He indeed felt the beast. A carnivorous beast that could chew her up and spit her out, leaving her wilted and broken. He couldn’t offer her a place in his world. It wouldn’t be fair. He would have plucked the most beautiful flower known to man away from the rest of the world and hoarded her away within his pitiful existence on the mountainside—and it would be the world’s worst crime. The cruelest joke one could play on another human being. And he could not do that do her.
    So he ’d forced himself away from her. Forced himself. For it was not willingly he left her, but with contrition—it was the only thing to be done. He couldn’t offer her what she deserved.
    And he had run away. Hell. She was right. And he had been running for years. The thing was, he’d finally stopped, and he simply lacked the courage to backtrack the last eighteen years of his life to make things right again. So he was at a stalemate. He would never leave his farm, and Blaire couldn’t live with him here. So the only thing left to do was push her away.
    Is it your wife? Or is it Nicky?
    Those last words rang out through the valley, chased him ever since he left the cabin. So much so that he thought he would have to cover his ears with his gloved hands to stifle them. But he knew they weren’t coming from outside, they were coming from within.
    From within his soul.
    How she found out about Nicky, he didn’t know, but he might as well find out. The sooner the snow melted and the sooner Blaire Kincaid found out the truth about him the better. He didn’t know if he could stand sleeping away from her one more night. He simply didn’t know if he could do it. And when she found out the truth, when she found out that he was a murderer, he was sure she wouldn’t want anything to do with him ever again.
    Bending over to pick up the turkey, Darian stared at the limp neck of the bird. Limp. That was just how he felt about right now. Lifeless. Blaire Kincaid had already drained the last bit of reserve he had. That and the fact that she somehow knew about Angelina and Nicky.
    Nicky. Poor Nicky. If only….
    Darian snapped out of his trance. Lifting the turkey by its feet, he watched the blood ooze out the fatal wound—the shot had nearly severed its head—dripping thick scarlet globules on the crisp white earth. As he