If he’d guessed her thoughts, Eli was gentleman enough not to remark on them. Still holding her elbows, he set her a little away from him, or so it seemed to Brynne, though she was sure neither of them actually moved.

“Want to meet my dog?” he asked, tilting his handsome head to one side and regarding her thoughtfully.

“Why not?” Brynne managed, going for a light tone and falling just shy of the mark. “I probably should be getting back to the café, though. Lots to do to get ready for New Year’s Eve—it’s only a few days away, you know...”

Prattling.

Was she prattling?

“Up to you,” Eli said, with maddening alacrity. A part of Brynne wanted him to throw her over one shoulder, caveman style, carry her somewhere warm and private, lay her down on something soft, and make love to her until she absolutely lost her mind.

The more sensible part of her, the one that counseled immediate flight, was gaining ground, though not very fast or very forcefully.

“I guess I could meet your dog,” Brynne allowed, feeling stupid and, at the same time, brazen and bold. “Briefly.”

Eli remounted the snowmobile, and Brynne climbed on behind him.

If she’d been conscious of his proximity, his heat and the hardness of his muscles, before, she was ablaze with it now.

Now that they had a destination in mind, Eli drove more moderately.

They descended the rise and burrowed across the road and a long, winding driveway, following the trail Eli had probably forged earlier when he’d decided to zip on into town and collect her from her mundane life.

His house was sturdy looking, built of logs, and a thin trail of smoke rose from the chimney, an etching against the too-blue sky.

He pulled up alongside the detached garage, shut the snowmobile off again and stood. He did that so gracefully, like a cowboy getting off a horse.

This time, when he offered his hand, Brynne ignored it.

She was feeling fitful. Flustered.

And the last thing in the universe she wanted was for Eli Garrett to see that he’d gotten under her skin.

Poor phrasing, she thought, with another hard blush.

Reckless in her disgruntled state, Brynne swung one leg over the long padded seat and went to stand, only to topple forward and land on her hands and knees in the deep snow.

Unlike before, Eli didn’t catch her.

He laughed, crouched and looked into her snow-splattered face with dancing eyes. “Good one,” he said.

“Shut up,” Brynne said in response, struggling to get up.

Eli laughed again. “Are you really this independent, or just stubborn?”

Brynne’s high dudgeon dipped low, all of a sudden, and she laughed, too. “Both, I think,” she admitted.