Perhaps life was made up of the choices Hunter had once spoken of. Perhaps luck swayed the balance. But at that moment, for hardly more than a heartbeat, Lee believed that fate ruled everything. She was meant to go to him, to give to him, with no more choice than one of the characters his imagination formed.

Then the sky opened. The rain poured out. The shock of the sudden drenching had Lee jolting back, breaking contact. Yet for several long seconds she stood still while water ran over her and lightning flashed in wicked bolts.

“Damn it!” But he knew she spoke to him, not the storm. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

Hunter smiled, barely resisting the urge to cup her face in his hands and kiss her until her legs gave way. “Head for drier land.” He continued to smile despite the rain, the wind, the lightning.

Wet, edgy and angry, Lee crawled inside the tent. He’s enjoying this, she thought, tugging on the sodden laces of her boots. There’s nothing he likes better than to see me at my worst. It would probably take a week for the boots to dry out, she thought grimly as she managed to pry the first one off.

When Hunter slipped into the tent beside her, she said nothing. Concentrating on anger seemed the best solution. The pounding of the rain on the sides of the tent made the space inside seem to shrink. She’d never been more aware of him, or of herself. Water dripped uncomfortably down her neck as she leaned forward to pull off her socks.

“I don’t suppose this’ll last long.”

Hunter pulled the sodden shirt over his head. “I wouldn’t count on it stopping much before morning.”

“Terrific.” She shivered and wondered how the hell she was supposed to get out of the wet clothes and into dry ones.

Hunter turned the lantern he’d carried in with him down to a dim glow. “Relax and listen to it. It’s different from rain in the city. There’s no swish of tires on wet asphalt, no horns, no feet running on the sidewalk.” He took a towel out of his pack and began to dry her hair.

“I can do it.” She reached up, but his hands continued to massage.

“I like to do it. Wet fire,” he murmured. “That’s what your hair looks like now.”

He was so close she could smell the rain on him. The heat from his body called subtly, temptingly, to hers. Was the rain suddenly louder, or were her senses more acute? For a moment, she thought she could hear each individual drop as it hit the tent. The light was dim, a smoky gray that held touches of unreality. Lee felt as though she’d been running away from this one isolated spot all her life. Or perhaps she’d been running toward it.