After turning on the stereo and switching from CD to FM, she tried to pick up a Crystal Falls radio station. When she located her favorite spot on the dial, a country-western channel that played only hit songs, she listened to the disc jockey's comments on the weather front with growing unease. A freak snowstorm. He advised against driving, even in town, unless people had a bona fide emergency. Several multi-car accidents had already occurred on the outskirts of Crystal Falls.

Nervous sweat beaded her face. She felt the rear end of the van lose traction and slip toward the shoulder. She needed to put on traction devices. Big problem. It would be sheer madness to get out of the van. If the vehicle was slipping and sliding, her chair would do the same.

Swish-thunk-swish-ihunk. She turned off the stereo to listen. An occasional whining sound told her the back tires were losing their grip and spinning to grab hold again. Squinting to see up ahead, she could detect no letup in the downfall, only snow as far as she could see, forming a white wall. If she lost control and went off the road-well, it didn't bear thinking about.

Positive thoughts, she told herself. If she drove slowly and hugged the center of the road, she'd probably make it fine. It was silly to worry about things before they happened. Right?

Just as she thought that, the van fishtailed on a slight incline. She tried to steer into the skid and regain control, but the vehicle went into a spin. For a crazy instant, the world became a blur, the forested slopes at either side of the road whizzing past the windows like video images on fast-forward. Trees, snow, rocks, and sky. She clung hard to the steering wheel, her only anchor as she was flung sideways by the force of gravity.

Oh, God. The half-formed prayer was cut short when, with a sudden lurch, the van dove off into the ditch with such force that the front bumper plowed into the frozen earth. Bethany's teeth snapped together. The nylon strap that held her in her chair bit into her shoulder. She screamed and tried desperately to regain control of the vehicle, but the hand brake wouldn't work.

The undercarriage of the van jounced over the rough ground. Each time metal struck rock, the noise seemed to explode in the air around her. Through the swirling downfall, she glimpsed a looming blur of gray and white ahead. Still holding hard on the brake, she tried to stop, but the conditions were too slick. The van sped onward, unchecked, until it hit the obstacle, the resultant crunch of metal so deafening that it seemed to reverberate inside her skull.

Her head snapped forward, her face almost hitting the wheel. For a moment afterward, she just stared in befuddle-ment at the windshield, her one clear thought that the wipers were still working. With each pass, the left blade caught on a spray of gritty mud, making a swish-scritch sound that would soon drive her mad. She reached to turn off the wipers and then hesitated, imagining how claustrophobic she would feel, trapped and unable to see out.

And what was she thinking? That was the least of her problems. She'd just had a wreck. A wreck. There could be gas pouring from a crack in the tank-or she could be bleeding to death from a cut she didn't know she had. She sniffed the air. If the tank was ruptured, she'd surely smell fuel.

An absurd urge to laugh came over her. She found that vaguely alarming and wondered if she was in shock. The van was tipped at a crazy angle. Her purse and coat, which had been on the passenger seat, now lay on that side of the floorboard beyond her reach. A fine pickle, no question about it.

A rock, she decided. The van had crashed into a rock. Strike that Any stone that large qualified as a boulder. Craning her neck to see over the dash, she tried to assess the damage. Through the swirl of snow, all she could tell for certain was that the hood looked crunched.

Oh, God-oh, God. She had to do something. Only what? All that kept her chair anchored in place were the restraints. If she dared to unfasten the straps, she might topple out of her chair. Trembling with nerves, she checked her person, paying special attention to her legs because an injury there would cause no pain. As near as she could tell, she was unharmed. Thank heaven. She had seen no traffic for at least thirty minutes, so she couldn't count on a passerby to stop and help her. The van was still running. That was good. Perhaps she'd be able to back out of the ditch and limp on home. The thought no sooner passed through her mind than she heard a hissing sound and saw a cloud of steam shoot from under the van's mangled hood. The engine gave two coughs, sputtered, and died. Silence. It settled around her with unnerving thickness, broken only by the faint snapping sound of cooling metal. "Wonderful!" She rubbed a peephole on the fogged glass to peer out. The snow was already so deep, she could see no asphalt, not even in her skid marks. "Stay calm." She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "No major catastrophe here. Just a fender bender and a damaged radiator. No big deal." Only for someone like her, it was a big deal. Like menacing specters looming from the mist, the huge, snow-laden trees that grew along the road bore witness to the remoteness of her location. The woods stretched for miles in all directions. For the first time in her life, she felt intimidated by the wilderness. At the edges of her mind, panic mounted. An able-bodied woman would be able to climb over the console to get her coat, at least. Without a functional heater, she could very easily freeze to death out here. With trembling hands she groped in the console, the contents of which were now tossed every which way. Where was her phone? She always kept it in there when she traveled. She cast a worried glance at her purse. After finishing her business in Bend, had she forgotten to return the cell phone to the console? Yes. Of all the stupid, idiotic, mindless things to do. She thought of all the times she'd harangued her brothers for being overprotective of her. I'm a grown woman. I don't need anyone to watch out for me. Those words came back to haunt her now. I don't need anyone-I don't need anyone. Pride talking, nothing more. At times like this, her helplessness was pounded home. Well... there was no way around it. If the purse wouldn't come to her, she had to go to it. That cell phone was her only link to help. She couldn't just sit here until someone finally happened along and found her. Heart in throat, she reached down to disengage the restraint straps that anchored both her and her chair behind the steering wheel. The hasp slipped free. For an instant, nothing happened. Bethany was about to breathe a sigh of relief. Then, with a suddenness that caught her by surprise, her chair flipped sideways, the right arm crashing against the console.

She fell sideways and forward, smacking the dash with her chest. The next instant she lay in a twisted heap on the floorboard, her head wedged against the passenger door, her neck in a painful crick, her useless legs sprawled and anchoring her lower body. Oh, God. She pushed and shoved, trying to right herself. The force of gravity fought against her, the van tipped at such a sharp angle that she was almost standing on her head.

Quickly out of breath from her struggle, she rested for a moment, horribly aware that she lay on top of her purse and coat. When her breathing evened out, she ignored the angle of her neck to tug on her purse. What seemed like a small eternity later, she finally wrested it free. She plucked out the phone and stared at it in concern, afraid she had damaged it in her fall. It looked intact.

She dialed the state police, praying as she did that the call would go through. When she heard a female dispatcher's voice, she went limp with relief. She quickly explained her dilemma. "There are several accidents out that way," the woman said. "In some places, the traffic is backed up for miles both directions. Where are you, exactly?" Bethany tried to recall the last road signs she'd seen and gave it her best guess. "I can't see a milepost to pinpoint my exact location."

"That's close enough. You're right on the highway, not all that far from town. The problem will be getting a car out there. It may take an hour or more, depending upon officer availability and how long it takes to clear the road. We're dealing with several emergency situations right now, the most urgent ones first."

Bethany stared at the fogged window above her, thinking that her situation was pretty urgent. "I understand. It's just that I'm in a rather difficult spot. You did hear me say I'm a paraplegic? I've fallen on the floorboard, and I'm lying on my coat. I'm not sure I'll even be able to cover up."

"Are you injured, ma'am?"

Bethany was tempted to say yes, just to get some help. It was no fun, lying in a twist with her neck bent sideways. But then she thought of the other people out on the road who'd been involved in accidents, people who might be injured and need assistance they might not get if she lied. "No, I'm not hurt," she admitted. "Just extremely uncomfortable and getting very cold."

"I'll get a car out there as quickly as I can," the dispatcher replied, her voice laced with concern. "Can you hold on for an hour or so?" Bethany was loath to break the connection. "I'll be right here," she said, forcing a laugh.

After ending the call, she went back to staring up at the passenger door window which, because it was partially shielded by the angle of the vehicle, wasn't completely covered with white. Looking at the falling snow from this angle was dizzying, making her feel as if she was inside an all-white kaleidoscope. Before long, her van would be completely covered. She just hoped the ditch wasn't so deep that a highway patrolman driving by would fail to see her.

A shiver racked her body. Cold. It seeped through the floor, its icy fingers curling around her. She had poor circulation in her legs, which didn't help. She tended to chill more easily than other people.

She set herself to the task of dragging her coat out from under her. Impossible. Her rump anchored the wool to the floorboard, and the downward tilt of the vehicle made it difficult to elevate her torso. She pushed and strained and twisted about, all to no avail. In the end, the stupid coat remained under her butt.

Blinking away tears of frustration, she settled for tugging one corner of the wool over her right leg. She told herself that at least the garment protected part of her body.

The seconds dragged. To see her watch, she had to wipe condensation from the crystal face. The dispatcher had said it would be an hour, possibly longer, before an officer could reach her. Judging by how badly she was already shivering, she hated to wait that long.

Ten minutes passed, and Bethany went from shivering to shuddering. She had no idea what the ambient temperature was. Her wool skirt and blouse provided adequate warmth in a heated room, but out here, she may as well have been wearing nothing.

She glanced at the phone. Jake would be at the store. She knew if she called him he'd move heaven and earth to reach her, which was exactly why she hesitated. Her situation wasn't so dire that she wanted her brother to put himself at risk, driving in these conditions.

In the space of five minutes, Bethany felt like a vibrating icicle. She recalled Ryan's swiping the sweater for her to wear last night and wished she had it now. On the tail of that thought, she remembered how strong and wonderfully warm his arms had felt, curled so firmly around her.

Ryan. Bethany blinked and stared at the snow-covered windshield above her. His ranch wasn't far away. Maybe the highway wasn't blocked between here and there. She grabbed the phone, then hesitated. If she made this call, it would be an irrevocable step.

Friendship. Normally she wouldn't find that frightening. As Ryan said, no one could have too many friends. But how many women had male friends so handsome that a mere grin could give them heart palpitations?

Stupid, so stupid. It wasn't as if the man was angling for a steamy affair, after all, or even hinting at one. Recalling the gentle way he'd held her last night and the aching sincerity she'd seen in his eyes when he'd spoken to her of friendship, she instinctively trusted him.

Decision time. She could be a total idiot and lie here, freezing to death unnecessarily, or she could take Ryan up on his offer of friendship. She tried to remember his telephone number and couldn't, so she dialed information. A moment later she was punching in the number to his residence. Please, he home, Ryan. Please, please, be home.

Ryan was laying a fire when the phone rang. He brushed his hands clean on his jeans and stepped to the end table to grab the portable from its base. Thinking it was his mother calling again, he bypassed saying hello. "No, I don't want to join you and Dad for snow ice cream," he said with a chuckle. "I'd have to be nuts to go out in this." "Ryan?" a shaky feminine voice said. "This is Bethany." She sounded awful, and his heart caught with sudden fear. "Bethany? Honey, are you crying?"

"No, no. I'm just shivering."

The hair stood up on the nape of his neck. "Shivering?"

"From cold. I'm so sorry to call you like this, but I've gotten myself into a bit of a pickle."

She went on to describe her predicament. Ryan tightened his grip on the phone. He glanced out the sliding glass doors at the blizzard in progress. "Dear God, you're stranded in this?"

Her voice quaking in a way that alarmed him, she said, "I'm not hurt or anything. Please, don't get all upset. It's not that big a deal. I think my radiator is bashed. The engine coughed and quit, so I can't run the heater." He heard her take another shivery breath. "I'm sort of-lying in a heap on the floorboard." She laughed shakily. "On top of my coat, of course. Murphy's Law, and all that."

Ryan started to pace. Long, heel-stomping steps muffled by the carpet, his body taut with alarm. "Son of a bitch. Where are you, honey?" The picture that formed in his mind of her lying on the floorboard sent sheer terror coursing through him. She could be bleeding to death from a cut on her legs and not even know it.

"Have you checked yourself for cuts?"

"Oh, yes. Not a mark that I could find. I'm fine, honestly. Just chilly."

Chilly? She sounded as if she was lying on a vibrating bed. "Where are you?" he asked again.

"You know the Eagle Ridge turnoff ? I remember seeing the sign just before I went off the road. That isn't a terribly long way from you, is it? I mean-if it is, the driving conditions are so awful I can just wait for the police. There are wrecks between here and Crystal Falls, but they're working to get the roads cleared and can be here in an hour or so."

There was no way on earth Ryan would let her lie on a cold floorboard for an hour. He knew exactly where she was, and traveling as a crow flew, he could reach her in twenty minutes. "No worries. I'm used to getting around in snow."

"I just-" She broke off and sighed, the sound shrill, shaky, and conveying such weariness, he wished he were already there with her. "Do be careful, Ryan. I'll never forgive myself if you have a wreck, trying to reach me."

"You just hold tight, honey. I'm on my way. I've got blankets in the storage compartment of my snow horse. Rafe and I are members of Search and Rescue. You'll be snug as a bug in a rug before you know it."

After breaking the connection, Ryan left the house at a dead run, tugging on his jacket as he went. Seconds later, he threw open the doors to the snowmobile shed, thanking God and all His angels that he and Rafe were always ready for an emergency. He kept a heavy plastic storage trunk on the back of his snowmobile stocked with blankets, emergency food rations, and an extensive first aid kit. He grabbed some bungee cords from a hook on the wall and stuffed them in with the rescue supplies. Then he filled the tank with fuel.

In less than five minutes, he was headed for Eagle Ridge, traveling cross country over snow-covered pastureland and through heavily wooded areas where the winter snowpack still hadn't melted.

Bethany huddled as best she could on the floorboard, shivering so hard her teeth clacked. It seemed to her that hours went by before she heard the distant sound of an engine. Her heart leaped with gladness.

She craned her neck, trying to see out the window above her, but the snowfall was so thick, visibility was no more than a few feet.

Finally she heard what could only be Ryan's snowmobile approaching the highway to the north of her. The rumble grew faint, telling her the driver had turned the opposite way. Soon the sounds drifted into silence.

What if he failed to find her? She could no longer see out the windshield. What if her van was no longer visible to someone on the road?

Minutes later she heard the snowmobile returning. "Ryan!" she cried. "Ryan, I'm down here!"

When the vehicle finally rumbled to a stop somewhere near the van, she nearly wept with relief. The engine sputtered and went quiet. Then she heard boots crunching on the snow. "Bethany?" His voice sounded so wonderful. Before she could reply, the passenger door opened and she nearly slid out of the van onto her head.

"Whoa, girl. I've got you."

"Ryan!"

Never had anyone felt so good. Just as she had imagined, his strong arms gathered her close. Bethany clung to his warmth, shuddering uncontrollably. "Oh, Ryan." She felt him run a hand over her hip. "I'm sorry, honey, but I've got to check you myself to be sure you're not hurt."

She blinked and peered over her shoulder, the oddest feeling of separateness coming over her as she watched him hike up her skirt and run big, brown hands the length of her twisted legs. His long fingers prodded the flesh-colored nylon of her support tights, and she realized he was searching for bone fractures. Normally she would have been humiliated beyond bearing. Her legs lay in an immodest sprawl at awkward angles to her body. Only this was Ryan. Not just any man. Watching the careful way he touched her, she couldn't quite muster a feeling of embarrassment.

He sighed, the sound conveying his vast relief. "You seem okay." He drew her skirt back down, then gently rearranged her legs, keeping one hand cupped over her knees as he lowered them to the floor. "Thank God for that. Huh?" He hunched his shoulders around her and tightened his embrace, pressing his face against her hair. Melting snow dripped off the brim of his Stetson and plopped on her sleeve. She felt the tension ease from his body. "Damn, honey. Talk about scaring the hell out of a fellow. I was so afraid you might be hurt."

Through chattering teeth, Bethany said, "I t-told you I wa-wasn't." He abandoned his grip on her knees, and she felt him twisting at the waist. The next instant, his heavy jacket settled around her shoulders, the lining still warm from his body. The heat felt sublime.

He reached around her to get the phone and dialed the state police. An instant later he was speaking to a dispatcher. He quickly explained that it was unnecessary now for an officer to be sent out. After ending the call, he tucked the phone into a pocket of the jacket he'd wrapped around her. Then he smiled and gathered her close again. He looked strong and capable, the collar of his shirt flapping in the wind. The ever-present black Stetson was caked with snow.

"I can wear my own coat, Ryan," she protested. "You'll freeze." "I'm inured to the cold. Remember? And my jacket's already warm. Maybe it'll help to chase the chill off you. We'll use your coat to cover your legs." As he spoke, he lifted both the coat and her into his arms. Bethany hugged his neck, so glad he was there that for once it didn't alarm her to be picked up.

"One question. What in the hell are you doing out on these roads today?"

Against his wet collar, she said, "The weather report didn't predict snow. I went to Bend to pick up an order."

"This is Oregon, remember? And high in the mountains, no less. Never, and I do mean never, take a weather report as gospel in this country. The storm front was supposed to pass over north of us, but it changed direction. I've been smelling snow in the air for the past two days."

"You have?"

He struck off up the bank. When he reached the snowmobile, he set her on the saddle seat, then covered her legs with her coat. Bethany grabbed hold of the handlebars to maintain her perch while he dug through a plastic storage compartment behind her. He dragged out two heavy lap robes and a silver insulated blanket, all three of which he wrapped around her, the silver sheet going on last to block the wind.

The entire time he was tucking the blankets around her legs, he lectured her. "The next time you take off on a long trip, you call me, and I'll go with you. There are maniacs out on these roads. What if you get a flat?"

"I can always call for road service."

"Like hell. I've got a friend who's a cop. He lectures women's groups on highway safety. Even if you call for road service, it's dangerous to remain with your vehicle. Psychos look for easy targets, and a lone woman who has car trouble along a deserted highway is one of the easiest targets on earth. You've heard people say to just put a flag on the antenna and lock the doors?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's the worst thing you can do. You're virtually sending out signals to anyone who drives by that you're all alone, broken down, and helpless. Some creep grabs a tire iron, bashes in the glass, and you're next."

"Oh, my."

"Yeah, 'oh, my,' is right." Snowflakes gathered on their faces as his steel-blue eyes met hers. In their depths, Bethany saw more fear than anger. "I don't want anything to happen to you. No long trips by yourself anymore. Agreed?"

"Sometimes I need to go places," she said weakly.

"From now on, you just holler, and I'll go with you. I can always juggle my work to take a few hours off." He sighed, closed his eyes for a second, and then hooked a hand over the back of her head and pressed his forehead against hers. "Damn. I'm sorry. I don't mean to yell. Driving here, I kept thinking of all the things that could happen and praying no one else stopped."

Before she could reply, he was gone. She watched as he collected her keys and purse, then wrested her wheelchair from the van, locked the doors, and climbed back up the bank. "Is there anything else you'll need tonight?" he asked. "Surely the road will be cleared before dark." He put the chair in a carry rack at the rear of the snowmobile and secured it with bungee cords. "Take a gander at that snow coming down. The highway will be closed until they can get it plowed, and even after they do, it'll be slick. Where's the point in taking you home when you're welcome at my place?"

"All I've got with me that's important is in my purse. I didn't plan to be away overnight."

"You have enough medication to last you?"

"No. I didn't think I'd be gone overnight and haven't got it with me."

"What all do you take?"

"Just Coumadin, a blood thinner, and a muscle relaxant at bedtime to prevent leg spasms."

He thought a moment. "A couple of glasses of wine will keep your blood thin, and it should work as a muscle relaxant as well. I'll double-check with my mom, just to be sure."

After stowing her things in the storage compartment, he mounted the snowmobile behind her. Sitting sideways as she was, her shoulder butted his chest as he drew her close. After telling her to hug his waist, he started the engine.

"You steady on?" he asked.

"I think so."

"Hold tight, honey. I'll take it easy."

Bethany burrowed her face against his shirt, comforted by the solid warmth of him radiating through the wet cloth. After he got the snowmobile shifted into gear, he locked a strong arm around her. The vehicle surged powerfully beneath them, and they were off.

Oddly, she felt perfectly safe even when the snowmobile leaned sharply and she slipped on the seat. Ryan had a firm hold on her. The noise of the engine made talking difficult, so she simply hugged him tightly and relaxed. It was heavenly to feel at least marginally warm again.

Traveling cross-country instead of by road, Ryan was able to cut off several miles, and it didn't take long to reach his ranch. For that, he was thankful. However, he could feel Bethany shivering violently. He needed to get her warmed up-and fast.

His dog Tripper came bounding through the falling snow to greet them when Ryan pulled up near the house. He spoke softly to the mutt, but didn't give him the expected ear scratch and pat, choosing instead to gather Bethany up in his arms and hurry inside. He carried her directly to the great room where he'd been about to light a fire when she called. After depositing her on the sofa, he grabbed the portable phone and dialed his parents' place.

His mom answered on the third ring. Ryan quickly related the situation to her. "I need to get her into a hot bath," he concluded. "Can you come over?" Ann sighed theatrically, the sound drifting faintly to Ryan over the phone line. "Dear heart, have you looked outside? Those are blizzard conditions."

"I realize that, Mom. Just hop on the snowmobile."

"Not when it's snowing this hard. I could drive off into the lake."

His mother could drive the lakeshore with her eyes closed. "Take it slow. I really need you, Mom. Another woman, you know?" Ann sighed again. "Ryan, dear. This is Bethany, the girl who's had your tail tied in a knot for the last week?"

"That's right."

"I see. The same Bethany you've been searching for all your life who has eyes like pansies?"

"What's your point?"

Ann chuckled. "I think a wise man would handle this emergency himself."

Ryan thought she was teasing and laughed himself. "I appreciate the thought, Mom, but there's a time and place for everything. This ain't it." "Use your head for something besides a hat rack," Ann said with a smile in her voice. "Opportunity knocks. You said you were going with a friendship tack."