Julia
Fairchild
CHAPTER 1
JULIA FAIRCHILD peered into the inky depths smeared with
stars. To have Mac Brantley’s body wrapped around hers gave
enormous comfort.
Her fianc8E had kidnapped the clinical psychologist from
her office at Pi96on Mesa Hospital and whisked her to the
Las Cruces airport, where his Beechcraft Bonanza packed
with a double sleeping bag and coolers filled with food
and wine had been waiting.
Their destination, a dusty landing strip at Prewitt, New
Mexico, two hundred miles to the north where a four-wheel-drive
waited to take them into Ojo Redondo Campground in the Zuni
Mountains not far from the Continental Divide.
And now after two bottles of wine, a thick, juicy steak,
and potatoes baked over the fire, she was lying skin to
skin in a sleeping bag with a man she never expected to
know, staring through thick pine boughs that touched the
sky, a million miles and a lifetime away from her wealthy
and highly respected family with homes in Manhattan and
on Long Island.
Their coming together after days of separation was intensified
by Julia’s desire to assuage her nagging doubts about their
future. Would she be able to leave her eastern roots behind
to cleave to a family so alien to her own?
All thoughts died when Mac’s lips covered hers and their
union took on a power of its own, pushing them to another
compelling dimension.
It seemed as if each were trying to disappear into the other
and, by doing so, protect themselves against .. . . against
what?
The distant call of an owl drifted through the pines, sounding
more sad than urgent, and Julia clasped Mac’s hand to tighten
his arm around her, needing to feel his warmth and the steady
drub of his heartbeat against her back.
She smiled into the darkness. This impromptu trip had turned
out to be the perfect remedy to release the threads of doubt
so tightly coiled at the bottom of her stomach.
MAC STARED at the fading embers through the red-gold screen
of Julia’s curls. The night was so quiet he could hear her
soft, drawn breaths as her back caressed his chest then
sighed away.
There were no words to describe his new happiness. Finally,
he was complete for the first time in his life. And though
Julia came from a world away—one filled with old-school
ties and yacht clubs—Mac recognized and appreciated the
part she played in this now-perfect equation.
He had whisked Julia out of Las Cruces to this remote rendezvous,
plied her with wine and food, then taken her to bed. But
instead of the long, lazy loving he planned, the moment
their lips met the pace accelerated and took on an urgency
that thrust them together until each seemed lost in the
other’s passion.
Afterward, Julia had clung to him until she fell asleep
and now she lay curled inside the protection of his arms,
her hand strangling his in a death-grip.
Mac kissed the nape of her neck, relishing the cool slide
of her skin beneath his lips, then gathered her closer into
his curve as a lazy tickle of desire stirred.
He shut his eyes and silently groaned. Why hadn’t he told
Julia about Emaline Pierce when they first met? Explained
his broken engagement? Gotten it out of the way? There was
no one to blame but himself for his cowardly omission, which
now would require a major announcement accompanied by a
string of reasons for his failure to mention this woman.
Mac shook the thought away. He was blowing things out of
proportion. After all, his relationship with Emaline was
finished—part of the distant past.
WHEN HE heard the first low rumbling in half-sleep, a sound
as familiar as the rush of the stream outside his bedroom
window, Mac scrunched beneath the covers, sure that in the
next few minutes he would hear the beginning ping of raindrops
against the tin roof above his bed.
A flash and sharp crack followed by the first cold freshet
preceding the descending storm brought him to, and he shook
Julia awake.
“We’ve got to get out of here. Try to make it to the car.
Too many tall trees. Perfect lightning rods.”
Mac pushed his way out of the sleeping bag toward his discarded
clothing just as the advance squall-line picked up the camp
stools and tumbled them to one side of the clearing. “Hurry.
It’s a big one.”
He started to retrieve the stools but realized time was
running out.
In the next flash Mac saw Julia dressed and trying to hang
on to the wildly flapping sleeping bag.
“No. No time. Head for the car. That way. I’m right behind
you.” He was shouting over the roar of the wind and hoped
she understood. When he saw her veer toward the narrow cut
in the rocks he hurried to follow.
There was still a difficult descent ahead. Even though
the four-wheel-drive was less than half a mile away, the
drop to the parking area was almost vertical and the path
composed of slippery shale. Bad enough to negotiate in dry
weather, but treacherous in wet.
Lightning strobed the forest in almost continuous flashes,
allowing Mac to monitor Julia, who was several yards ahead.
He saw her slip twice, then slide, and was flooded with
relief each time she rose and plunged onward.
He fell only once, cracking his left knee against a boulder,
but in spite of the excruciating pain he pressed on through
the assault of wind-driven pine needles spearing his face
and neck.
When he reached the clearing he saw Julia huddled against
the car on the lee side of the storm. Keys. He jammed his
hands into empty pockets and cursed as the first pelting
drops fell. It was too late to go back and much too dangerous.
The only thing he could do was try to protect Julia.
Mac hurried to kneel beside her and shouted above the churning
winds. “We have to crawl under the car.”
He saw her nod and start to slide under the car when ozone
stuffed his nose and the forest exploded around him, sending
electricity surging through his body, throwing him backward
into unconsciousness.
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Fairchild
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