She hadn’t realized she could get such a kick out of catching a fish or out of cooking it herself over an open fire. There were other things Lee hadn’t realized. She hadn’t looked at the trim gold watch on her wrist in days. If she hadn’t kept a journal, she probably wouldn’t know what day it was. It was true that her muscles still revolted after a night in the tent and the shower facilities were an inconvenience at best, purgatory at worst, but despite herself she was relaxing.

For the first time in her memory, her day wasn’t regimented, by herself or by anyone else. She got up when she woke, slept when she was tired and ate when she was hungry. For the moment, the word deadline didn’t exist. That was something she hadn’t allowed herself since the day she’d walked out of her parents’ home in Palm Springs.

No matter how rapid Hunter could make her pulse by one of those unexpected looks, or how much desire for him simmered under the surface, she found him comfortable to be with. Because it was so unlikely, Lee didn’t try to find the reasons. On this late afternoon, in the hour before dusk, she was content to sit by the fire and tend supper.

“I never knew anything could smell so good.”

Hunter continued to pour a cup of coffee before he glanced over at her. “We cooked fish two days ago.”

“Your fish,” Lee pointed out, carefully turning the trout. “This one’s mine.”

He grinned, wondering if she remembered just how horrified she’d been the first time he’d suggested she pick up a rod and reel. “Beginner’s luck.”

Lee opened her mouth, ready with a biting retort, then saw the way he smiled at her. Not only did her retort vanish, but so did much of her defensive wall. She let out a long, quiet breath as she turned back to the skillet. The man became only more dangerous with familiarity. “If fishing depends on luck,” she managed, “you’ve had more than your share.”

“Everything depends on luck.” He held out two plates. Lee slipped the sizzling trout onto them, then sat back to enjoy.

“If you believe that, what about fate? You’ve said more than once that we can fight against our fate, but we can’t win.”

He lifted a brow. That consistently sharp, consistently logical mind of hers never failed to impress him. “One works with the other.” He tasted a bit of trout, noting that she’d been careful enough not to singe her own catch. “It’s your fate to be here, with me. You were lucky enough to catch a fish for dinner.”

“It sounds to me as though you twist things to your own point of view.”

“Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”