Boneyard Ridge by Paula Graves

that had stopped making sense over a year ago on a dust-dry road in the Helmand Province of Afghanistan.
    “So, no milk for cereal, either?”
    “Sorry.”
    “Peanut butter and a spoon?” She punctuated the question with a toothy smile that sucker punched him straight in the gut with a lust so acute, so raw that he almost doubled over from the impact.
    He nearly took a step toward her, nearly closed the narrow gap between their bodies before he had a chance to think past the pounding drumbeat of desire rattling his bones and fogging his brain.
    “Yeah,” he managed, turning away before he did something stupid. “There’s peanut butter. And you know what? I think there may be a loaf of bread in the freezer. You could toast it.” He waved her toward the kitchen while he crossed the room in three limping strides and made a show of looking through the drapes that covered the four glass panes of the back door, even though he expected to see nothing more than morning sunlight dappling the fallen leaves that littered the tiny clearing around the cabin.
    “Want some?” She was making busy noises at the counter behind him.
    “Sure.”
    “Got any jelly?”
    “Check the fridge.” Frost covered the leaves and grass outside, a grim reminder of how close they’d come to spending the night in a cave instead of this cozy, heated cabin. If she’d succeeded in running away from him, he couldn’t have given up the hunt. Not when she was out there somewhere, barefoot and running for her life.
    “Mmm, peach preserves.”
    He glanced over his shoulder and found Susannah watching him with sharp eyes. Her gaze softened immediately when she saw him looking, but not before he caught the feral wariness in her expression.
    No, she hadn’t dropped her guard a bit. But clearly she wanted him to think she had.
    Why? So he’d drop his?
    “This is home-canned, isn’t it?” she asked brightly, giving the Mason jar lid a strong twist.
    “I think so.” Janet had helped stock the place, overruling his protest by assuring him that staying busy helping him get situated was a much better use of her time than sitting home worrying about what a Ridge County judge was going to decide about her fate.
    Susannah looked around the kitchen, her gaze settling first on the brightly colored pot holders hanging from a hook on the wall, then at the sunny yellow curtains hanging on the windows and the door. “Girlfriend?”
    His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “Sister.”
    “Oh.” She gave a slight nod, then turned as the first pair of bread slices popped up from the toaster. “So, no girlfriend?”
    “No,” he answered, trying to figure out if she was really curious or if the question was another attempt to set him at ease. If so, she’d picked the wrong topic.
    “Boyfriend?”
    Wary or not, he couldn’t stop a grin at that question. “No.”
    She shrugged and turned back to the counter to put two more slices of bread in the toaster. “You never know.”
    He stepped up behind her, noting how her body stiffened slightly as she felt his body heat wash over her. But she didn’t flinch, didn’t show any other sign of awareness, save for the slightest tremble of her fingers when she picked up a butter knife from the counter and dipped it into the open jar of peanut butter.
    “What about you?” he asked in a low tone, bending close enough that his breath stirred the tawny hair curling in front of her ear. Definitely a natural blonde, he thought as a glint of morning sunlight stole through the narrow gap of the kitchen curtains to glimmer like gold in the pale hair closest to her scalp.
    She turned around suddenly, catching him off guard. He grabbed the counter to keep from stumbling backward, and the move drew him even closer to her, so close that his hips brushed against hers.
    Her lips trembled apart, but she didn’t drop her gaze, staring up at him with fire in those winter-pale eyes.
    “What do you really want?” she asked.
    A thousand