Chapter Twelve
Later in the afternoon Hunter settled himself in a chair in the living room, working on a piece of wood. For the better part of an hour he sat there—still shirtless—whittling with that small, sharp knife of his. His concentration was solely on his project and it wasn't hard for Melony to picture him carving during the winter months when he was forced to stay indoors. He probably never experienced a single moment of cabin fever.
He looked perfectly relaxed. The muscles of his shoulders and arms rippled in a smooth, even rhythm that had Melony hypnotized as the glow from the fire caressed the planes of his body with light and shadow.
Hunter had offered her a book from the many he owned when she emerged from her shower. She had accepted it gratefully, eager to keep her mind
