"So you kept him."

Eden made a murmurous sound of agreement as she leaned into the passenger side of the truck to deposit supplies.

"Do you make a habit of collecting and taming wild animals?"

"No." Eden stacked two sacks where a passenger's feet would have gone. "I'm a wildlife biologist, not a zookeeper. If I find wild animals that are hurt, I heal them and turn them loose again. If I kept them, there's nothing I could give them that would compensate for the loss of their freedom."

Silently Nevada handed over the sacks he was carrying. As he did, Eden noticed that he had cut his left hand in the fight. She dumped the sacks in the truck and took Nevada's hand between her own.

"You're hurt!"

Nevada looked down into Eden's eyes. In the fading light of day her eyes were almost green, almost gold, almost amber, almost blue gray, a shimmer of colors watching him, as though every season, every time, lived behind her eyes. Her hands on his skin had the healing warmth of summer, the softness of spring sunshine. He wanted nothing more than to bend down and take her mouth, her body, sinking into her until he couldn't remember what it was like to be cold.

But that would only make the inevitable return of ice all the more painful.

"I'm fine," he said, removing his hand. Eden took Nevada's hand again. The renewed touch of her skin sent hunger searching through every bit of his big body, making his muscles clench with need.

"Nevada," she said, remembering what the bartender had called him. "That's your name, isn't it?"

Nevada nodded curtly, trying to ignore the exquisite heat of Eden's breath as she examined his hand again.

"You're bleeding, Nevada. Come with me to the motel room. I'll clean the cut and-"

"No."