Heaven and Earth by Nora Roberts

stage just a little longer.
    It was full dark when she made the turn to the yellow cottage, and the moon was new and black. Another three inches of snow had fallen since morning, but the clouds had passed by evening. The clear wash of sky and stars sucked out any hope of warmth in the air. The cold wasclean and sharp as a razor, slicing keenly against any exposed skin.
    She walked fast, using her flashlight to guide the way.
    She shook her head when she ran the beam over Mac’s Rover. He hadn’t bothered to dig it out. Typical Nutty Professor behavior, she decided. Ignoring the practical.
    She stomped up to the door, pounded with a wool-covered fist.
    He answered wearing a gray sweatshirt that had seen better days and jeans that looked equally well used. She caught the unmistakable scent of Nell’s beef-and-barley soup and quickly decided it was that, and that alone, that made her mouth water.
    “Hi. Jesus, it’s freezing out there. Must be down around zero.” Even as he stepped back to let her in, he looked outside. “No car? You walked in this? Are you crazy?”
    She studied the equipment jammed cheek by jowl into the tiny living room. “You live like this, and you ask if I’m crazy?”
    “It’s too cold to be out for an evening stroll.” Instinctively, he took her gloved hands, rubbing them between his own.
    “You get grabby, we’re on the clock.”
    “Check the attitude.” His voice wasn’t mild and easygoing now, but hot as a bullet. It had her eyeing him speculatively. “Have you ever seen frostbite?”
    “As a matter of fact—hey!” She yanked back when he pulled off her gloves to examine her fingers.
    “I was with a group in Nepal a few years ago. One of the students got careless.” Ignoring her resistance, he wiggled her fingers. “He lost two of these.”
    “I’m not careless.”
    “Okay. Let me take your coat.”
    She shrugged out of it, the neck scarf, the wool cap, theinsulated vest, piling each layer she peeled off into his arms. “I guess you’re not careless.” Then he glanced around, looking for a place to dump everything.
    She couldn’t help it—she grinned. “The floor’s good enough.”
    “No, we’ll just . . . the bed,” he remembered, and carted them out down the narrow path he’d made to the bedroom.
    “Are you afraid of the dark?” she called out.
    “Huh?”
    “You’ve got every light on in this place.”
    “I do?” He came out again. “I’m always forgetting to turn things off. I bought a quart of Nell’s soup today, I just nuked it. Do you want some?” He waited a beat, reading her perfectly. “Eating’s off the clock.”
    “I’m not hungry,” she quickly responded, and felt a good sulk coming on.
    “Okay, I’ll have it later so we can get started. Where did I put . . .” He patted his pockets, circled. “Oh, yeah.” And found his mini-recorder beside a monitor. “I want to get some basic personal data first, so we’ll just—”
    He broke off again, brow furrowed. He’d piled old files, clippings, research books, photographs, and other tools on the sofa. Even the floor didn’t offer enough room for two people to sit.
    “Tell you what, we’ll do this part in the kitchen.”
    She shrugged her shoulders, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and followed him back. “I’m going to go ahead and eat, since it’s here.” He took down a bowl, then decided to take pity on her. “Why don’t you change your mind so I don’t feel rude eating in front of you?”
    “Fine. Got a beer?”
    “No, sorry. Got a pretty decent Merlot, though.”
    “That’ll work.” She stood while he dumped soup in bowls, poured wine.
    “Have a seat.”
    He settled down across from her, got up immediately. “Damn it, one more minute. Go ahead and eat.”
    Ripley picked up her spoon as he hurried back out. She heard muttering, papers rattling, and a small crash as something hit the floor.
    He came back with a spiral notebook, two pencils, and a pair of