Wilderness Passion
LOVE’S NATURAL LAW
Biologist Libby Stapleton was ready for anything when she met her unwilling partner on a government environmental study—anything, that is, except forest manager Dan Wagner, whose animal grace and disturbing honesty filled her with swift, passionate longing.
Suddenly the dreaded three-week trek into wild mountainous terrain became a dangerous adventure into an uncharted world of desire.
But Dan was a man who played the game of life by his own rugged rules. If Libby wanted to win his heart, she had to live by the laws of nature—and survive.
Wilderness Passion
Lindsay McKenna
“One Man’s Folly May Be Another’s Blessing.”
Libby’s heart leaped wildly as he reached out, his thumb gently tracing the natural curve of her cheek, coming to rest beneath her chin. Pleasurable tingles leaped like electricity through her tense body at his knowing touch. He searched her face for a long moment, as if memorizing each detail and nuance of her features.
“You’re so beautiful, Libby,” he whispered. “So alive…so damned enticing and yet so dangerous…” His mouth descended, grazing her parting lips like a feather.
Her senses reeled at the touch of his mouth and she felt his hand steadying her, pulling her forward against his body….
About the Author
Lindsay McKenna enjoys the unusual, and has pursued such varied interests as firefighting and raising purebred Arabian horses, as well as her writing. “I believe in living life to the fullest,” she declares, “and I enjoy dangerous situations because I’m at my best during those times.”
Dedicated to my wonderful fans: Linda Snoddy, Pat Dube, Geneva Montgomery, Jean Hutson, Mary Jo Young, Monique Baux, Sylvia Chen, Donna Druivenga, Jon Cheek, Lynn Sizemore, Lorraine Wirges, Mickey Henson and so many others who write to me. Thank you for your continuing support. I love writing for my reading audience!
Contents
1
L
IBBY FROWNED, UNCONSCIOUSLY
pushing a golden strand of hair away from her cheek. She sat behind her large executive desk, glaring at four different piles of documents, all marked
Impact Statement.
Forcefully exhaling in frustration, she got up, circled her plush office and glanced out the window. It was nearly 4:00 p.m. on Friday afternoon and she could hardly wait for the business week to end. On Wednesday her boss, Doug Adams, had informed her that he had another project requiring her immediate attention. Her brown eyes had darkened with worry at the news. How could she possibly handle a fifth assignment?
“Look at it this way, Libby dear,” Doug had replied in his usual amiable tone, “Cascade Amalgamated is a very progressive corporation, and nowhere is it busier than in the forestry division. Besides, in the year you’ve been with us you’ve been indispensable, and we’re proud of your work. The vice-president of the forestry division thought that the state land lease we just acquired ought to fit nicely into your field. Plus, you need some vacation, and you’ll certainly get it with this project. Just look at the weeks you’ll be spending up in that magnificent Idaho wilderness as a holiday.” He had smiled brilliantly, given her a mock salute and left her standing dumbfounded.
Libby glanced guiltily at the stacks of documents that required her attention. One more project, she thought distractedly.
She chewed on her lower lip momentarily and then closed her eyes. Her lashes, the color of wheat in midsummer, lay like thick fans against her high cheekbones. She pirouetted on her long legs and walked back to the window, which overlooked San Francisco Bay. The evening fog was beginning to creep in from the ocean, making it look as if the sky were pulling a white wool blanket over the Pacific. It was August and the cloud cover would be welcome, taking the edge off the day’s heat. Libby desperately wanted to have a weekend that wasn’t spent doing office work. She touched the back of her chignon in a nervous gesture.
“Dr. Stapleton?”
Libby swung around, startled. “Yes, Betty?”
Her secretary gave a small apologetic smile, stepping inside the door momentarily. “Remember the man who was supposed to have kept the ten-o’clock appointment with you this morning? Mr. Dan Wagner?”
Libby rolled her eyes upward. “Don’t tell me he’s here now.”
Betty nodded. “I’m afraid he is. And, judging from his angry looks, he’s none too happy about it. Shall I send him in?”
Groaning inwardly, Libby smoothed the white lab coat she always wore over her business clothes. “Yes. Leave any phone messages for me on your desk. When I get out of here tonight, I’ll check through them.”
Her secretary, a woman close to her own age, added, “You’d think he would have the good manners to call back on Monday, not last thing Friday afternoon.”
Libby tried to straighten up the obvious clutter on her desk. Why did each of the four piles of documents resemble miniature leaning Towers of Pisa? “I have to see him, Betty. He’s the forestry manager for the latest lease we bought. Do me a favor and bring us both coffee, I’m afraid it’s going to be a long meeting.”
“Sure. Want me to order some sandwiches, too?”
Libby managed a wry smile, her full lips curving upward. “I’m not intending to stay that long. Coffee will do fine.”
He came through the door without making a sound. As lean as a mountain lion, he moved with boneless grace. Libby stood frozen behind her desk, fingertips resting on the smooth surface, staring up at him like a wide-eyed child. A pulse leaped at the base of her throat as she met his eyes. They were a deep, thundercloud-blue, and his hair was dark and slightly curly, with red highlights. Perhaps what struck her the most were the rugged features of his face. That face belonged to a man who regularly challenged nature and won. Dark eyebrows and thick lashes partially hid the anger she knew he was controlling. His nose was straight except for a bump that indicated it had been broken once. Libby gave an inner sigh of relief when she saw that his well-shaped mouth was turned up at the corners and not downward. He must laugh once in a while, she thought. And small laugh lines around the corners of his eyes confirmed her guess. It gave her the necessary courage to walk around the desk, her hand extended in greeting.
“Mr. Wagner, I’m Dr. Elizabeth Stapleton. Please, come in and have a seat.”
Her long fingers were cool in comparison to the warm, callused strength of his hand. Her voice, usually husky, sounded almost breathless now, and Libby reprimanded herself. But then, the man standing and studying her with catlike intensity would make anyone feel slightly nervous.
He released her fingers—almost reluctantly, she thought. “I didn’t realize you would be a woman,” he said, his tone hard and without compromise. “E. Stapleton. That’s how the damn letter was signed.” Dan controlled his sense of frustration. How was he supposed to harvest a forest with a woman who looked more like a lovely child than someone who knew the timber industry? Despite the coolness of his manner, something wrenched at his heart when he looked into her clear, almost unlined face. Reason dictated that she was older than she looked, and he smiled to himself. She was all business, but he sensed that she was nervous. One part of him felt badly about being hard on her. But another part of him, the forestry manager, was concerned only with efficiency. Up in those mountains, the only thing that mattered was action—quick, decisive action. And now he was saddled with a woman who had probably never stepped out of her office. Damn.
Libby girded herself against his attack. How many times had she heard that for openers? “Please, sit down,” she entreated, her brown eyes narrowing slightly in self-defense. “I’m sure you’re tired from the trip.”
Dan Wagner remained standing, one hand resting loosely on his hip. There was absolutely nothing conciliatory about him. He wore a set of tightly fitting blue jeans, which emphasized his long, muscular thighs, and a western plaid shirt with a corduroy blazer thrown over it, as if to appease society to a certain degree.
Libby was amazed at the breadth of his chest and the strength that was so evident in his proudly thrown-back shoulders. He looked like he could carry the weight of the world on them and never tire. He gave her a thin smile, his eyes glittering. “You’re right about the trip, but I’m tired of sitting. And if I have my way about this meeting, I won’t be here long enough to get the urge to sit down.”
Leaning back in her black leather chair, she pointed toward the forms and files just given to her by Doug Adams. “This is going to take at least two hours,” she warned, her voice hardening slightly to emphasize the point. “We have to discuss a myriad details on collecting data for the environmental-impact statement on State Land Lease Number 4293.” She forced herself to smile. “So why don’t you relax for a moment while I ask my secretary to get the maps we’ll need?”
Libby gladly escaped the tense atmosphere of her office. The man was seething with barely restrained anger, and it was all focused on her. What had she done? It was Friday afternoon and all she wanted to do was go home and sleep for the next twenty-four hours. Peeking around the corner, she called, “Betty, get me those maps of the Sleeping Deer Mountain area, will you?”
He was pacing restlessly around her office when she returned, and her heart hammered as he lifted his chin, fixing her again with his impenetrable stare. “Was your flight late?” she inquired, thinking of the unkept appointment earlier that morning.
“No,” came the cool reply, “I just had other, more important tasks that required my attention first.” He shook his head. “I think this whole thing is a fiasco, Dr. Stapleton. Cascade Amalgamated has been given the rights to lease the land and harvest the timber. I’m too damn busy to come here and chitchat and then to babysit you or one of your city-bred assistants on a three-week interior study up on Sleeping Deer Mountain.”
Libby wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her white coat. Dan Wagner presented a combination of impatience and masculinity that sent her senses reeling with unexplained pleasure. He was quietly handsome in a rugged, outdoorsy fashion, something she had seen very rarely in the Bay area, where she’d lived all her life. She was used to men in Savile Row suits and silk ties who spoke with cultured brevity and diplomacy. It was obvious that none of that could be expected from the forestry manager. He was a man more comfortable with an ax in his hand than trading glib comments.
“Mr. Wagner, I’m afraid neither of us has any say on these impact studies. Officially we are teammates on the Deer Mountain project until its completion.”
He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Look, Doctor, under any other circumstance I wouldn’t mind meeting you.” That was true. Rarely had he seen someone of such incredible beauty. Dan wondered how she could have majored in biology when she should have been a model for all the international fashion magazines. She certainly didn’t belong in that office. And certainly not in his world.
Savagely Dan reminded himself that he was a simple country boy who had barely graduated from high school and then earned his forestry management through harsh experience. It was evident that Dr. Elizabeth Stapleton was not only beautiful but also intelligent. And that combination made him feel mildly threatened. “You can take that doctorate in biology, the EPA and those damn impact-study demands and shove them. I don’t need my logging operation held up for a whole damn year because you have to count bugs, animals and plants and try to tell me how to do a job I’ve done for the last fifteen years.”
Libby colored fiercely, her flawless Swedish complexion turning ruddy over his irate words. Clenching her fists at her sides, she tried to temper her retort. “Mr. Wagner, I don’t care what you think about the study, but I do care when you insult me. I won’t stand here and argue with you.” She lifted her chin, her brown eyes dark with fury. “I have an idea,” she whispered tautly. “It’s been a long week for both of us, I’m sure. Why don’t you come back here Monday morning after a good rest and we’ll discuss this problem reasonably.”