Snowbound - Harlequin.com

JANICE KAY JOHNSON 153
He’d be sorry to see them go. But not as sorry as he’d
be that Fiona would be leaving as well, robbing him of the
anticipation he’d begun to feel on waking in the morning,
the erection he had to quell when he went to bed at night,
the color and life in between that had replaced his previous
days of nonstop work meant to keep him from thinking.
He wondered whether maybe it wasn’t just her. He’d
come to Thunder Mountain for quiet, hard physical
labor, unspoiled beauty and peace, believing they’d
work better than the drugs Army doctors wanted to prescribe.
Maybe they had worked.
But he didn’t believe it. Fiona had awakened something
nearly forgotten inside him. He would give almost
anything to keep seeing her.
He could take a trip to Portland in a week or two.
Stay at his parents’ or his sister’s, give Fiona a call.
Good idea, John thought, ignoring the unease that had
him rolling over and punching the pillow into a new
shape. Yeah. He could do that. Just a short trip. His
parents would be thrilled to have him there for Thanksgiving.
He could kill two birds with one stone.
Bad analogy. Not just words. Small frail bones.
Blood. Stillness.
Don’t think of it that way. He’d make his parents
happy, and get to see Fiona. Yeah. That’d work.
He finally slept, not dreamlessly but without throatclogging
nightmares, and awakened in the early hours
of morning still aroused. Or, aroused again. A wisp of
memory suggested he’d had at least one good dream—
an erotic one.
He took coffee out onto the porch as he often did,