Wolfe Wedding Read Free Page B

turned and two-stepped across the room to her dresser, pulling open the drawer containing her mostly ultrafeminine lingerie.
    Humming an old and very suggestive love ballad, she moved around the room, from the dresser to the closet to the bed, with side trips into the bathroom, filling the suitcase and a large nylon carryon with the things she wanted to take to the cabin.
    Originally thinking to do nothing more strenuous than take short, brisk hikes in the foothills surrounding the cabin, Sandra had planned on packing only what she thought of as loafing-around clothes—jeans, sweatshirts, sweaters, parka, boots and such. But at one point, while she was removing an old cotton shirt, soft from many washings, from the closet, her glance had touched, then settled on, a new, more alluring outfit.
    Sandra had never worn the two-piece ensemble. It bore a Paris label—a thirty-second-birthday gift she had received over a month ago from her parents,who were spending a year in France, both working and having a grand time, while her father set up international offices there for his business firm.
    The reason Sandra had never worn the outfit was that there had never been an occasion suitable for her to do so. The set was too darn alluring for just any old gathering of friends.
    Fashioned of sand-washed silk in shimmering swirls of fuchsia, orange and mint green, the outfit consisted of a voluminous-sleeved poet-style shirt and a belted, full-flowing skirt.
    Viewed on a padded clothes hanger, the ensemble appeared innocent enough. But, upon trying it on for fit, Sandra had been mildly shocked by the appearance she presented in it.
    The first button on the shirt was placed at midchest, a plunging vee revealing the cleavage of her high, fully rounded breasts. And, although there was an abundance of material to the skirt, when she moved, it swirled around her long legs, the clinging silk caressing every curve from her waist to her ankles.
    At the time, Sandra had stared at her mirrored image in wide-eyed amazement, deciding on the spot that the outfit was too blatantly sexy for just any casual get-together. It was definitely for something special.
    An impish glow sparkled in her dark eyes now as a thought flashed through her mind.
    The Lone Wolfe was someone special. And being with him would most definitely be special.
    Sandra carefully folded the two pieces and tucked themr into the case.
    How much farther could it possibly be?
    Sandra frowned as she maneuvered her one-yearold front-wheel-drive compact around yet another sharp bend in the narrow, rutted, mud-and-slushcovered dirt road. Although spring had arrived at the lower elevations, shallow mounds of snow still lay in patches on the ground and beneath the trees in the foothills of the mountain range northwest of Denver.
    A quick glance at the dashboard clock told her that thirty-odd minutes had elapsed since she had made the turn off the major highway indicated in the directions Barbara had written down for her.
    By Sandra’s reckoning, she should soon be seeing the signpost indicating the private road leading to the cabin. Even though she knew what to expect, she laughed aloud upon sighting the sign with the words Escape Hatch printed in bold letters on it.
    The private driveway leading to the cabin was in worse condition than the dirt road, the slush concealingpotholes that caught her unawares and caused the vehicle to lurch from side to side.
    Sandra heaved a deep sigh of relief when the cabin came into view around a gentle curve in the road.
    Seemingly built into the side of the hill, the log cabin looked as if it belonged there, nestled in amid the tall pines. A broad porch fronted the cabin. A wide window overlooked the porch and the valley beyond.
    Anxious to see the inside of the place, Sandra stepped from the vehicle and tramped through the diminishing snow cover to the three broad steps leading up to the porch. The sunshine was warm on her shoulders, and turned the snow to