Larger than Life (19 page)

Cory, too, had been merry, her green eyes brilliant with humor. And something else. Saber couldn’t forget that “something else,” because it
was the same starkly envying expression with which she had regarded the love of her friends.

What in heaven’s name was Travis up to?

His voice reached her ears now.

“Selling you? My darling love, only a fool would sell the most precious gift to ever come his way.”

His voice was cheerful, but the words were tender, and Saber felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks, aware that Cory had heard every word.

“Blarney!” she managed to say. “You’re trading me in on a new model after only two weeks and three days!”

“Later,” he told her firmly, “I’ll demand an apology for these base accusations.”

“Where are we going?”

He laughed close to her ear, and Saber felt a warm shiver course through her body. The effect this man had on her was nearly indecent ….

Saber felt her ears pop and thought that they were either dropping or climbing; it was difficult to be sure. They had been in the helicopter for what seemed a very long time, but passing minutes were
as difficult for her to gauge as altitude. But they did set down once briefly to refuel, which told her they were quite a distance from The Hideaway.

Were they even in Arizona?

Sometime later, Saber felt the aircraft touch ground. Before she could speak, Travis was cheerfully ordering her to stay put. After a few moments, with the helicopter still making its normal racket, the door on her side opened, her headset was removed, and she herself was lifted easily in Travis’s arms.

“Thanks, Cory!” Travis called.

“Don’t mention it,” she shouted back.

The helicopter lifted away with a rumbling roar.

As Travis carried her across what appeared to be uneven ground, Saber tried to guess where they were. Mountain air … and quite an altitude, she thought.

“I hope you appreciate the trust I’m placing in you,” she told him severely.

His chuckle sounded rich and warm in the still air. “Oh, I do, love.”

“If you don’t tell me where we are—”

Interrupting her, he spoke casually. “We’ve never really talked about where we should live. I doubt that your apartment in L.A. or mine in New York would be quite what we’d like. D’you agree?”

“Um… yes.”

“I think we want a certain amount of seclusion—don’t you?”

“Well, a certain amount.”

“Right. Close enough to a town so the kids can go to a good public school.”

Saber cleared her throat hesitantly. “Uh-huh.”

“And where neither of us is likely to be bothered by nosey reporters.”

“That’s for sure.”

“And room for everything. A big house. Yard. Maybe a bit of land so we could have horses. Would you like horses?”

“Yes.” Saber caught an elusive scent and tried to identify it. Was it—?

She was set gently on her feet as Travis halted, her back turned to him. His hands held her shoulders
lightly, and she could feel the broad strength of his chest behind her.

“It’s bright up here,” he murmured. “Better keep your eyes closed at first.” Then he lifted the blindfold away.

Cautiously, Saber opened her eyes. And the breath caught in her throat.

“It needs some work,” Travis said softly. “Inside and out. Paint and paper, carpet. And the roses haven’t been pruned in years.”

She barely heard him, too enthralled by the reality of an old and dear dream.
“If dreams were for sale, what would you buy?”
Now she knew what Mark had meant.

It was a large, rambling house; an old, comfortable house. The white clapboard needed paint and there was a shutter askew. Rooms had been added throughout what must have been a long life, until the house spread out with little grace but with a welcoming, endearing air. A covered porch ran the length of two sides, and the windows were the large, many-paned kind that would collect dust easily but would sparkle when clean.

The house stood at one end of a lovely mountain valley; there was rolling pasture in the distance, heartbreakingly green. A long graveled drive wound its way toward a distant road, which in turn meandered lazily toward a small town.

Large, graceful trees shaded part of the yard; the grass was a bit overgrown, but as green as the pasture. And there were half a dozen rosebushes, in need of pruning and care, but gloriously in bloom.

And around the yard was a white picket fence, as in need of fresh paint as the house, but standing sturdily for all of that.

“How … how did you find it?” she whispered.

Travis held her gently against him. “I came up here to visit a friend a few months ago. He was building a house nearer to town, but said he didn’t want to sell this place—except to someone special. He’s the one I left The Hideaway to see. I’ve got the key, so we can go inside. There isn’t much furniture, but enough for us if you want to stay a while.” Hesitantly, Travis added, “If you like it, we can sign the papers in a few days.”

“If I like it?” She turned in his arms, lifting a face aglow from within. “Travis—it’s perfect!”

His own face lit up. “I hoped you’d think so,” he said huskily. “We’ll have the acreage for horses, and there are half a dozen bedrooms.”

“Let’s go inside,” she said eagerly.

“Don’t you care where we are?” he asked, amused.

Softly, she answered, “We’re home.”

Travis held her close. Then, as they turned toward the house, he suddenly said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, sweetheart—what’s your definition of a hero?”

Saber looked up at him, surprised that he didn’t know. Gently, lovingly, she said, “A hero is a man who can hold the lightning … and not be burned.”