She took a step back. “Seriously. What?”
Why was he taking care of her skin? He didn’t care about her soft and way-too-tempting face. “The wind is going to cause damage. This’ll protect you.” Grasping her arm with his free hand, he gently brushed the gel across her cheekbones and the top of her nose. Yep. Soft like a fine canvas.
He was becoming maudlin in his old age and needed to get away from this woman as soon as possible. Her eyes lightened to an enticing blue, softening as she held still for his ministrations, surprise still evident. For a tough FBI agent, she had a sweetness that hit him like a siren’s call.
Closing the lid, he placed the jar on the bar and gestured Ophelia toward the doorway. “If your hands or feet get too cold, let me know. We’ll use the warmers then.”
The idea of warming her—in any way—shot a spiral of heat through him. He had to get a grip. Pausing, he looked back at the crowd, all gearing up for a rough day of searching. “Remember that we’ve had a late freeze. Most cricks, creeks, and rivers won’t be frozen over, no matter how solid they look. Keep the sleds on solid ground. Same with feet.” Sylvie had called him for help, so that put him in charge. No other reason, he tried to remind himself. He shoved the door open and stepped into the storm, which might calm soon. Hopefully.
“I spoke with your brother.” Ophelia followed him into the snowstorm and instantly chilled his desire.
He had to keep her away from his family. “You talked to Ace again?”
“No. Christian. He came to the back door for coffee and wouldn’t answer my questions.”
Ha. Christian wouldn’t answer anybody’s questions. “You should probably avoid him. He won’t help on the investigation, and he isn’t good with people. Not at all.”
“Is he dangerous?” She tugged her gloves farther up her hands.
Christian was definitely dangerous. “Not to you. He just isn’t a big fan of new people, and he definitely won’t want to talk about Hank or Hank’s death. It hit him hard, and with everything else he’s dealing with, he’s not ready to handle it.” Why was Brock still talking? He wasn’t a talker. But whenever this woman asked him questions, he became a chatterbox. Still, he couldn’t let the agent believe Christian posed a threat to law enforcement or women. He most certainly did not.
The snow had lightened, and flakes dropped onto her nose. “Are you sure I won’t slow you down today?” The doubt in her voice came through softly but clearly.
“Don’t be sweet, Olly.” He couldn’t deal with sweet, so he swung a leg over his hill climber. “This is a Ski-Doo. There’s room for both of us, but you’ll have to press close.” God help him.
“Um, okay.” She used his shoulder for balance and swung her leg over behind him, settling naturally into place as if she belonged there. Her long legs felt right against his.
He tried to concentrate. “The ride will be rougher than the one last night down the street to Flossy’s. Hold on and try to match your movements to mine. If I lean left, do the same—but not much.” He paused. “Forget that. Just plaster yourself to me and let me move you. We’ll ride along the river for a few miles. It can get rocky.” He held back a helmet for her before donning his own.
People filtered out, all heading to snowmobiles, side-by-sides, and four-wheelers to tackle their assigned grids and searches. He’d figure out later why he couldn’t trust her safety to anybody else because any single man in that tavern would’ve willingly let her ride behind him.
Instead, her body plastered against his, and damn if the smell of strawberries, even through his helmet, didn’t make his mouth water.
This ride would be hell.
About two hoursinto the ride, Ophelia had seen enough snow for a lifetime. The wind pierced her from behind, and she began to shiver, even with all the gear. Brock drove the snowmobilesmoothly and efficiently with the two handles, watching the speedometer protected by a short windshield. He avoided rocks and tree branches sticking up from the icy ground while the river flowed next to them, often appearing iced over.
She had her hands clasped tightly at his waist and kept her thighs pushed against his, trying to gather even an iota of warmth. His broad back and tall shoulders blocked her view, so she turned her head and watched the river to the side, looking for any indication of the missing man. White and more white, interspersed with some green from trees and a little ice-blue when the river flowed smoother, were the only colors anywhere around.
Finally, Brock turned off to a barely there trail between snow-capped spruce trees. He slowed into a quiet alcove protected by mammoth boughs and then stopped, the silence sudden and absolute when he cut the engine.
She swallowed and released him, groaning at the ache in her arms. It had only been two hours, for goodness sake. The blood rushed through her ears, and the skin along her chin tingled from the chill, although the sun had finally begun to break through the clouds and sparkle off the snow. Her lower back and neck ached from the bouncing.
He pulled off his helmet, tucked his gloves in it, and reached back for her arm. “You okay to slide off?”
“Yes.” She forced herself to swing one leg free and step into the snow, sinking down to mid-calf.
He partially turned, swung a leg over, and lifted the face shield from her helmet. Then he grasped her shoulders, his eyes a deep green and a shadow already starting to cover his rugged jaw. “I felt you shivering. How cold are you?” He took in her face, his expression serious and practical.
Her teeth chattered, but she shook her head. With the silence, it felt like they were the only two people in the entireworld. The solitude threw her off-balance and created a sense of intimacy and trust that neither of them could afford right now. She lifted her chin. “I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh.” He looked closer and then glanced down the trail. “Most of the wind is coming from behind us, so I couldn’t shield you from it. We could use the hand and feet warmers, but that won’t help your core.”
She couldn’t let him regret bringing her. They needed to proceed as work colleagues, and she had to carry her own weight. “It isn’t your job to shield me.” An odd sensation filtered through her, and it took her a moment to recognize it as regret. Maybe she should start dating once she finished this job and headed back to a city. Anchorage must have available men, right? She tried to keep her expression placid, even as too many bizarre thoughts ran through her brain. The cold must be getting to her. “I’ll be fine, Brock. Let’s get going.”
He tugged a radio out of his pocket and pressed the side button. “Ace? It’s Brock. Status?”
It figured that Ace would be his partner for the buddy system. The radio crackled. “Ace here. Status good. I’m about three miles east of the river, heading in from that direction. I haven’t seen anything, but I wasn’t expecting to yet.”
