Up Close and Dangerous (Page 43)

But the kiss was light and brief, his lips cold against hers, his head lifting before she could put thought into action. “Thank you,” he said again, and released her.

She stood there in the cold, flummoxed. Okay, now she was officially confused. Was that a pass, or not? If he’d intended it to be, then it was the most nonsexual pass she’d ever experienced, which kind of defeated the purpose. If the kiss had been intended as a “thank-you,” then just saying the words would have sufficed.

She was the first to admit she wasn’t the best at catching sexual signals, and it seemed to her that relationships were hair-raising enough without one or both of the people involved operating on mistaken assumptions. In her book, it was better to ask and be certain, even if that wasn’t how these situations were usually handled. She shook off her mild shock and resumed helping him to the shelter, wedging her shoulder under his left arm and putting both arms around his waist. “Was that a pass?” she demanded, frowning up at him.

He paused, his expression mild as he glanced down. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I couldn’t tell. If it was a pass, then I want you to know up front that sex isn’t in the cards. If it wasn’t, then never mind.”

He actually laughed, his arm tightening around her shoulders in a brief hug. “Trust me, when I make a pass at you, you’ll know it. That was just a thank-you.”

“Saying ‘thank you’ would have been enough.”

“So would saying ‘you’re welcome,’” he said drily.

Color burned in her pale face. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry. I was being pissy, and I didn’t mean to be.”

“It’s okay.” They had covered the four yards or so to the shelter. He dropped his arm from around her and eased to one side, indicating for her to enter the shelter first. She did, realizing for the first time how much easier getting in and out was when no one else was inside. “Wait, let—” she began, but he was already crawling in behind her. She drew her legs up to give him as much maneuvering space as possible. He got turned around, his long legs making things difficult for him, then he stretched out on his stomach and pulled the trash bag closer to plug the entrance.

They settled in, straightening and arranging the heap of clothing so they were better able to cover themselves. Bailey sighed as she relaxed her aching body, lying on her side facing him. After doing nothing but lying around and dozing for most of the day she should be bored and restless, but instead she was still so tired she felt as if heavy weights were attached to her legs and arms. She also felt incredibly grungy; being dirty and sick was somehow much worse than being clean and sick.

Depression settled on her like a wet rug. “Why didn’t they come today?” she asked, her tone desolate.

Cam rested his head on the piece of foam that served him as a pillow. They were lying face-to-face, close together in the dimming light as the sun sank lower, bringing another icy night closer and closer. Her gaze roved over his battered face. She could still see the way his lashes curled, and the day’s worth of whiskers that adorned his jaw, but soon he would be only a darker shadow in the gloom of the shelter, before the darkness became complete.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “The ELT should have brought a helicopter right to us.”

“Maybe it’s damaged,” she suggested, her heart sinking as the possibility registered with her. If no one knew where they were—

“ELTs can take a lot of abuse, especially with the plane as relatively intact as it is.”

“Intact?” she echoed incredulously. “Have you looked at it lately? The left wing is gone! Half the cabin is gone!”

One corner of his mouth curled in faint amusement. “But we’re both alive and in one piece, and most of the aircraft is still there. I’ve seen crashes where all that was left was a few burned pieces of metal.”

“Like if we’d crashed into a rock face?” For a moment she flashed back to those sickening moments before impact, when she’d stared at the craggy rocks looming ever closer and knowing that she was about to die.

“Like that. That’s why I wanted to get us down to the tree line. We were going down, no way to stop it, but the trees made the difference between living and dying.”

“They cushioned the impact.” She shuddered a little, remembering the incredible force with which they’d hit, the sensation of being body-slammed by a giant. She couldn’t imagine what the crash would have been like without the trees, but she did know they wouldn’t have lived through it.

“Exactly. The trees right on the edge of the tree line are pretty spindly, and wouldn’t have done much to help, but I didn’t want to descend so far that they were too sturdy. I needed small to medium trees, I guess: strong enough to slow us down, absorb the impact, but limber enough to give.”

“Good idea. It worked.”

“I guess it did. We’re alive.”

She wanted to tell him how impressed she’d been with him then, watching him coax every bit of lift he could from the air currents, fighting gravity, using his skill and strength to keep them in the air as long as he had, but though her throat worked the words wouldn’t form. To her horror she felt tears forming and she clenched her teeth, willing the tears not to fall. She wasn’t soggy by nature, despite those annoying times when she woke to find tears on her cheeks. She didn’t know what that was all about. She did know that she refused to let herself turn into a weakling, sobbing because she’d been upset and scared. Finally she managed to say in a reasonably even tone, “You saved our lives.”