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Of course, this was all supposition on Cami’s part. Or her paranoia as her mother liked to say while smiling back at Cami indulgently, if a little absently.

How her mother had changed. Even before Jaymi’s death, Margaret Flannigan had been prone to depression and had lived in a Valium haze. In the ten years since Jaymi’s death, her depression had deepened, especially after her parents had moved to Aspen two years ago. Four years later than they had planned, as Cami understood it.

Her parents had been making plans to move the year Jaymi had died and had been trying to convince her to move as well.

The big day would have come the summer Cami graduated from high school. But no one had mentioned the move to her. Her parents’ way of silently emphasizing the fact that she wasn’t welcome, Cami thought mockingly.

How different families could be.

Her parents rarely acknowledged her presence, and even when her mother did seem to notice Cami, it was with loving surprise. She never doubted her mother’s affection for her, simply Margaret’s ability to deal with the world with her husband in it. On the other hand, Cami’s uncle Eddy and Aunt Ella and had treated Cami like the daughter they never had. They had always been there for her.

They had bought her senior prom dress for her, despite the fact that Cami hadn’t wanted to go. Thankfully, her friend Jack Townsend had had a friend willing to escort her, Archer Tobias, the son of the former sheriff. Archer was now Corbin County’s sheriff. Which surprised her considering the fact the barons had not backed his election.

Her aunt and uncle had helped her get her a loan for college, and when Cami had lost her best friend that last week of college, it had been her aunt and uncle who had dried her tears.

But even more important, when she had lost the one thing she had wanted above anything else in the world it had been Eddy and Ella who had rescued her. They had forced her to move out of her apartment and had brought her into their own home.

Now Cami stood watching another friend being buried.

As the Reverend Mayer drew the prayer to a close and the small crowd began drifting away, Cami made her way to the gravesite and the three men gathered there.

“Rafer.” She stood in front of him, feeling just as vulnerable, just as weak and hungry, in the face of the powerful dominant male she faced, as she ever had.

“Hey there, kitten.” He greeted her softly, the dark remnants of arousal in his voice sending heat flashing through her.

She couldn’t avoid the arms that wrapped around her. She tried. She tried to make herself step back and then tried to make herself stiffen in his arms. She told herself she couldn’t feel this, couldn’t allow it, and she definitely couldn’t have him.

It didn’t work.

She felt herself soften against him involuntarily, and felt her arms go around his shoulders. Her face pressed against his powerful chest as she relished the subtle heat and powerful warmth that eased the chill inside her soul. She drew in the scent of him. Uniquely male, hinting at the dominance, at the sheer male strength that filled his body. Cami could feel her senses coming alive. The dormant warmth and sensuality flaring to life inside her, and reminding her of the pleasure she had once found in his arms.

She let herself relish those seconds in his arms. Let herself revel in them and told herself she wasn’t going to allow anything more.

She couldn’t allow anything more. She had nearly lost her will to survive when she lost their child. She couldn’t risk that again.

“You’re as beautiful as ever, Cami,” he whispered against her ear. “And you make me just as damned hungry.”

And he was hard.

His cock pressed against her lower belly and she felt his hunger for her begin to burn. As well as her own. Heat built between her thighs as her clit awakened with a vengeance. Her womb clenched, sending a rush of breathlessness through her as she felt the liquid response to his touch dampen her pussy.

She couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow herself to give in to it.

Drawing back was even harder than slipping from his embrace and his hotel room three years before.

“I’m sorry about your uncle,” she said, stepping back. “He was a good man.”

“He was as unbending as steel and just as rigid.” Rafe was smiling, though, his blue eyes amused at the description.

“But he loved the three of you,” she reminded Rafe softly.

“He tolerated us anyway,” he tried to tease her.

She could see the knowledge in his gaze, though, that she wasn’t returning the warmth, the teasing, where she had always teased back before. She was drawing away from him because she had no idea how to be close to him without wanting him, needing him; without taking everything she knew he would be willing to give her. All she had to do was reach out for it. Reach out for him.

Oh God, it hurt so bad to pull away from the warmth of his arms, to see that flash of hurt and anger brighten his eyes. It was like tearing a chunk of her soul out of her body. And here she thought she had already lost her soul.

She hated how weak she was, and she hated that she had no idea how to take that risk again and survive it. She had lost too many people, too many things in her life that she had loved. Her mother, her father, or rather accepting he had no desire to be her father. And her child.

The thought of allowing herself to weaken that far, to allow his touch again terrified her. The chances of losing Rafe were incredibly high. The chance of standing and watching as his body was lowered into the ground increased every day that he was in Corbin County.

So she stepped back. Her fingers clutched the edge of her purse as she gazed up at him in regret.

“I just wanted to say hello,” she said softly. “And to tell you how sorry I am.”

His expression closed, when he saw her deliberately put distance between them. His eyes burned with anger.

“You shouldn’t have wasted your time, Cami,” he drawled. “Run on home now, before I show you exactly how I make little girls like yourself admit that you know me a hell of a better than you’re pretending.”

“I’ve never pretended Rafe,” she told him, refusing to hide, refusing to back down. “I’ve simply learned how to accept reality.”

“Whose reality?” he snorted. “The truth or the reality the barons attempt to force feed everyone?”

It was better that he was angry, she told herself. So much better that he hate her. Because any other emotion would just cause her to break the promise she had made to herself. The promise that she would never risk her soul again to the extent that simply surviving seemed an insurmountable obstacle.

And the vow that he would never know what they had both lost. That he would never, ever know exactly how it had destroyed her.

“Good-bye, Rafer,” she said softly. “Take care.”

He didn’t speak as she turned and walked away, but she could feel his gaze on her back. It was like a caress. A dominant, fiery stroke of his hand along her body. A phantom reminder of everything she couldn’t have. Of everything she now denied herself.

CHAPTER 3

Eighteen months later

It was colder than a witch’s tit. The temperature hovered just below zero with the windchill and a hard western wind blew across the mountains with a banshee’s moan. The blizzard had become a whiteout, with the rapidly falling fluff piling fast and hard against the house in heavy pristine drifts.

The weatherman said to expect a blizzard, and he hadn’t been far off track. Problem was, this looked like blizzards combined. The previous year’s mild winter was cashing in interest during this late-season storm.