“I am now.” Gradually she dragged herself out of the sensual haze as she remembered where she was and with whom.

Oh, dear. Somehow Russ had made her feel all sexy and he hadn’t even been trying. He’d probably just wanted her to wake up.

She rolled over, finding his face too close to hers for comfort. “Is something wrong?” But she could tell just by looking at his face that nothing was wrong. He wore the expression of a kid on Christmas morning.

“No, nothing’s wrong. And I’m sorry for waking you. But yesterday you asked me how anyone could stand to live in the middle of nowhere-”

“I think I referred to it as the godforsaken boonies,” she corrected him.

“Well, I have an answer for you. But you have to get up to see it.”

“See what?”

He all but dragged her to her feet, or rather foot, because she still couldn’t put weight on her left ankle.

“Where’s my walking stick?”

“Never mind, just lean on me. You’re gonna miss it.”

“Miss what?”

He didn’t answer. He just led her toward the big picture window that looked out onto the woods, a window she truthfully hadn’t paid much attention to before because the novelty of staring at winter-dead trees had worn off. But when she looked out, her breath caught in her throat.

The scene before her was a fairyland of glistening, sparkling ice, all tinted the most incredible shade of pink as the sun struggled to mount the horizon. Each branch, each leaf, each blade of grass was encased in a thin sheet of ice.

Into the midst of this wonderland, two deer calmly pawed at the ground and nibbled blades of winter grass uncovered by their sharp hooves. They were so close, Sydney could see the individual hairs that made up their coats.

“Oh!” was all she could think to say. She was literally struck dumb by the sheer beauty and she felt a ridiculous urge to cry. She’d never before truly understood the meaning of awe inspiring.

“This is why I come up here,” Russ said softly. She was still leaning on him to steady herself and it seemed perfectly natural when he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

Something startled the deer and they bounded off into the woods, white tails flashing. But Russ and Sydney continued to watch in companionable silence as the panorama changed with the rising sun, pink and orange gradually giving way to the bright sun and a flawless blue sky. An owl floated by on its way home from a long night of foraging and a couple of squirrels poked their heads out of one of the trees after it had passed.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Sydney said. “It’ll be my fondest memory of my visit to the Hill Country.”

“And here I thought I would be your fondest memory.”

She looked up at him to find his eyes dancing with laughter and she felt an inexplicable urge to kiss him. A heartbeat later his expression fell serious and she realized he must have somehow read her mind, or she’d read his, because he was leaning in. She closed her eyes and let it happen. What was the harm?

As his mouth captured hers, a feeling of warmth stole across her senses and she ceased to notice the chilly cabin. The blanket she’d wrapped around her shoulders dropped and her arms went around his neck.

The kiss felt familiar, as if she’d dreamed it many times, and her dream lover had suddenly become flesh and blood, known to her in some instinctual way.

Russ moved his hand up the back of her flannel shirt, his touch sending tremors of desire shooting through her. Suddenly she ached for his touch everywhere and probably wouldn’t have objected if he’d taken the kiss further. But too soon, he pulled back, placing one final, light kiss on her forehead and then just holding her.

“I have a confession,” he said. “Last night, when I carried you out from the bedroom, I kissed you.”

She pulled back and looked up at him, not sure she believed him. How could she sleep through a kiss from this man? “You kissed a defenseless, sleeping woman?”

“You were only sort of asleep. You, um, must have thought I was someone else.”

Her face warmed as she wondered what, exactly, she’d said or done. She’d been told that she talked in her sleep. She decided not to press him for details-too embarrassing. “You didn’t have to tell. You could’ve gotten away with it,” she said as they made their way back to the sofa. Standing on one leg was tiring, even when she was getting the stuffing kissed out of her.

“I’m compulsively honest. As I made painfully clear last night, I suck at lying. When I was a teenager, if I came in past curfew, I always woke up my mom and confessed. I never should have tried to mislead you. I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

“Don’t apologize for being too honest. Honesty is an admirable quality,” Sydney said, meaning it. Not that there would be much work for a private investigator if people always told the truth.

“I thought you didn’t have ice and snow this far south,” Sydney said, still gazing at the icy panorama from her spot on the sofa.

“It’s rare, but not unheard of. We get an ice storm or a dusting of snow every few years.”

“We won’t be hiking back today,” she said glumly, though surprisingly the idea didn’t alarm her as much as it would have yesterday. This cabin was far more appealing now that she had decent food, running water and a source of heat.

“I’m glad to hear you say that. If you’d held firm on your threat to make it back to town today, I’d have felt compelled to hike after you and probably would have ended up carrying you back here again.”

His razzing almost made her want to give it a try. There were worse things in this world than riding Russ Klein.

WINNIE STOOD at the window of her beauty salon, looking out onto Main Street. They’d hardly had any customers today because of the weather. Quite a few had canceled, and others simply hadn’t shown up.

The ice was starting to melt now, so the street was passable. The afternoon would probably pick up, she told herself, not that business was ever a problem at the Cut ’n’ Curl. She was the best hairdresser in town. Well, okay, she owned the only salon in town unless you counted Wick’s Barber Shop. The lack of business wasn’t what troubled her. It was the fact that Russ hadn’t come home yesterday from wherever he’d gone so suddenly.

He’d gone for a hike-that’s what he’d told Bert. And he simply hadn’t come back.

“No sign of Russ yet, huh?” asked Betty, Winnie’s best friend since kindergarten. The two had lost touch during Winnie’s Las Vegas years, but when Winnie moved back to her hometown to live with her mother-after she’d blown most of her money-she and Betty had taken up like there’d never been a lapse. It was Betty who’d suggested Winnie ought to buy the Cut ’n’ Curl and get her cosmetology license.

“No, haven’t seen him yet,” Winnie said.

“I’m sure he’s fine, hon. You know Russ, he goes his own way.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, too.” But the thing that really bothered Winnie was that white car parked smack in front of the general store. Winnie suspected Russ and the city girl were together somewhere. And that troubled her. Especially since Russ had been so obviously secretive about why the woman had come to Linhart. He’d been hiding something from her-she was sure of it.

Winnie knew of one person who probably had the answer. Bert Klausen was a dear friend, the father and grandfather Russ had never had. If Russ had turned out well, Winnie knew it wasn’t due to her influence. She’d been a careless mother, not exactly neglectful, just consumed with her own problems and dramas. Russ had always been so good, so well behaved, that she hadn’t given him a whole lot of extended, concentrated thought and attention in his early years.

Bert was the one who’d taken the boy fishing, shown him how to do all that wilderness stuff, even how to do his income taxes, and Russ had eaten it up with a spoon. Bert had always been there for them. He was widowed, his children grown and moved away, so the Kleins and Bert had been a good fit.

“Betty, hold the fort for a little while, will you? I’m going to run over to the store and pick up a couple of things for dinner.”

Winnie put on her good winter coat, which she’d happily dug out from the back of the closet that morning. Not much call for a heavy coat here, but hers was nice, a real camel hair with classic styling that Russ had given her for Christmas a few years back. She slipped it on, pulled on a pair of gloves and stepped out into the chilly air.

Her high heels were useless for winter weather, but some thoughtful soul had sanded the sidewalks and street, so Winnie was able to mince her way carefully down one block and across the street to the general store. The bell over the door rang as she entered, and Bert, sitting in his usual place reading his newspaper, looked up with a smile.

“Well, hello, there, Winnie,” he said. “Cold enough for you?”

“Oh, I love the cold weather, even if it is bad for business,” she said. “It’s such a rarity. Wish we’d have a real snow, though, instead of this ice.”

“Got snow up in Dallas,” he said. Bert loved talking about the weather.

“I just need to pick up a couple of cans of chicken stock,” she said. “Oh, by the way, you haven’t heard from Russ, have you?”

“Not a peep,” Bert said as he pushed himself out of his rocking chair and walked over to the shelves where he kept the canned goods. “But don’t you worry, Russ can take care of himself. He’s probably holed up at the cabin.”

“What about the woman with the white car?” Winnie asked as casually as she could. “I think her name is Sydney. Any sign of her?”

“What woman?” Bert said with obviously feigned ignorance.

“Bert, I just told you what woman. The one with the white beemer that’s parked right in front of the store.”