An attempt to salvage a failing relationship leaves city girl, Carla Benevito stranded, injured, and lost in the woodlands of Wisconsin. Starving, she struggles for survival even as she gives up all hope of ever finding the man of her dreams.

After years spent conducting search and rescue missions for the Cooper Valley Fire Department, Jamie Roberts is resolved to a life as a bachelor with is partner-his only female companion-a gentle wolfhound named Pixie. But that was before a missing woman stumbles across his campsite...and straight into his heart.

"I'm going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. Evisceration with a butter knife."

Carla Benevito yelped as her already sore left ankle twisted on the slippery rocks, and she went down hard on her right hip, right in the stream.

"Chinese water torture," she whispered through a tight throat. Oh, God, how was she ever going to get home?

Stop it. Stop it. She sucked in a deep breath, shoved her tears deep down so they couldn't get out, and let the cool water ease her aches. Part of her wanted to lay back and just float away. Forget the fact she was out here in the middle of God only knew where, starving and in pain.

She would not give up. If she gave up and died, then how would she ever punish her lousy, good-for-nothing, jackass of an ex-boyfriend? Hmm? If she died, he was off the hook. Not going to happen.

For just a minute, she leaned back into the water, letting the cool glide ease the sunburn on her shoulders and arms. She splashed her face and dunked her head. How she wanted to stay right here.

Get up. Get going.

Her will to survive outweighed her misery...slightly...and she pushed up to her knees. Using a small boulder, she rose to her feet, her soaked denim shorts clingy and clammy.

"Argh!" She fisted her hands and fought the tears of pain when she put weight on her left foot. "Damn you Jeffery. Damn you to hell and back again. You are so dead. I'm going to sue your ass."

A harsh bark of a laugh slipped out of her. As if he had anything. God, she needed to find a man with money next time. At least then she would have incentive to sue if she got left in the woods again.

The next time? She was thirty-nine and five-sixths with forty looming large and daunting in front of her. There would be no next time. "Face the facts, Lala," she said, using the nickname her baby sister had given her over three decades earlier, "You're a middle-aged spinster. There is no Mister Right out there. He probably passed you in the hall on your way up the corporate ladder."

Girding her courage to take the pain, she clenched her teeth and hobbled a few steps away from the stream, up a short embankment to a fairly flat, almost grassy spot in the shade of a massive tree. Collapsing right there looked better and better. What did she have to go back to?

An empty apartment she'd paid too much for? A job that worked her seventy hours a week?

"God damn it, Lala, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Life sucks and Jeff's a prick, but life does go on. You just have to get your tired, sore ass out of these fucking woods and you'll be fine!"

Right. She took a step and almost fell down. Her burned shoulder struck the rough bark of the tree, tearing a cry from her, but at least she stayed upright.

"I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. Bamboo under the fingernails. No. Toenails."

With a vision of Jeffery suffering endless horrors at the hands of men trained in torture tactics, she shoved away from the tree and took a step. Pain shot up her left leg from her ankle to her knee, but she didn't fall.

"Keep going," she urged herself. "Just keep going. Follow the stream, which will turn into a river, which will lead you to civilization."

Her stomach cramped. "Oh, God, I'm hungry."

The ground was more even along this stretch, and she hobbled her way downstream, determined to keep going. To get back to Chicago and hunt Jeffery down and make him pay.

The guillotine? No. Too quick. Slow torture. Very slow. Whatever she decided to do to him, she'd make it last as long as her camping trip lasted out here.

Oh, shit. No. No, no, no. The sun was setting, she realized, as the shadows grew darker and she had to strain to see the bumps and dips in the ground. Not another night out here alone. Last night, with all the sounds of creepy crawlies, and things she was sure were bigger than her, she sat in the semi shelter between massive tree roots waiting to be eaten. But she'd survived with only a bunch of mosquito bites.

She tripped and went down hard on hands and knees. Her cheek slammed into the hard ground covered by prickly pine needles, and she saw stars.

" Fuck it ," she cried as pain radiated through her entire body. A deep sob tore from her soul, and she couldn't keep it in. Not anymore. She had no idea how she'd get home. Jeffery may have killed her when he drove off in a temper, leaving her alone. She didn't know where she was, and she had no idea how far the nearest bit of civilization might be. The stream she'd been following for two days might not even lead anywhere.

Hunger made her stomach and head hurt. Her skin had broiled from sunburn. And for all she knew her ankle was broken.

Sucking in a breath, trying to get her tears under control, she flopped over onto her back. She lifted the hem of her tank top and swiped her eyes. Carla Benevito did not cry. Ever. Tough as nails. Ice in her veins. Could take on a room of sharks and come out unscathed.

But she wasn't in a corporate boardroom right now; she was in the middle of the wilderness. Alone. And scared shitless.

Blinking up through the trees, her fear only multiplied as she realized how dark blue the sky had grown. Nighttime had arrived. She shoved herself up to a sitting position and looked at her leg. Her ankle was swollen, but didn't look discolored-not that she could see much in the dim light.

With a heavy sigh, she rolled onto her knees and prepared to lever herself to her feet. She reached for the tree trunk-the same one whose root she'd tripped over-and saw a rope dangling...

She frowned and followed the white nylon cord up to a knot about five feet up. From there... "Oh. Yes! " Two canvas packs hung from a high limb of the tree.

"Food." She clambered to her feet, ignoring the fiery pain shooting up her leg, and pulled the slipknot. The rope jerked from her fingers, and the bags hit the ground with a heavy thud.

With a whimper, she collapsed next to them, lifted the biggest one, and ripped open the zipper. Underwear, socks... She threw the clothes on the ground. "Oh, shit." Her blood froze when she pulled out a...handgun. She'd never actually held one before, and this sure didn't look like they did in the movies, but the overall shape couldn't be mistaken.

She licked her lips and stared at it for a long moment, but then her stomach cramped again, and she set it aside and dug back into the bag. A first aid kit. She set it aside hoping it held an Ace bandage for her ankle. A small bag of wooden matches, string, sewing kit, and some other strange stuff she didn't give a shit about right now, but she'd have fire tonight. Yeaa.

A big, heavy knife, a tin cup and plate-where the hell is the food for it? Shoving the almost empty bag off her lap, she grabbed the other one and found the zipper.

Yes. Yes! Right there on top, a Ziploc bag of... Well, it looked kind of gross. She opened it and sniffed. Chicken? Rice? She reached in, grabbed a handful, and shoved it in her mouth. Oh. Yes. Food. Nothing had ever tasted so good. It could use some salt and pepper, some onions, but it was cooked, and it was edible, and ohh. Thank you. Thank you whoever left this here.

A low growl from her left had her freezing, her fourth handful of food halfway to her mouth. Shit. Shit . She didn't want to get eaten now. She'd just found a hope of surviving. Go away. Go away. I'm not food.

"Is there a reason you're eating Pixie's dinner?"

Carla whipped her head around to see a giant looming over her. With a giant beast at his side. Oh, God, it was worse than she thought. She'd fallen down a rabbit hole somewhere. Were there giants in Alice in Wonderland?

A giggle bubbled out of her as terror held her still. Who cares?

The gray beast moved toward her. Carla screamed, dropped the food, and dove for the handgun she'd dropped on the ground just minutes ago.

The animal stopped and reared back, its teeth showing as it snarled at her.

"Don't let it come any closer," she said, pointing the gun at the fanged fur ball, afraid to take her eyes off it.

A deep, rumbling laugh caught her off guard. Heart in her throat, unable to figure out what the giant could possibly find funny, she glanced at him.

He dropped a smaller pack-one that matched the two she'd rummaged through-onto the ground. "The flare gun is not loaded, and she's only ticked off because you're eating her supper."

His smile was very white against his deeply tanned skin, but the night had set in, and she couldn't see much of his features. His biceps were humongous, as thick as her thigh. His abdomen was rippled with six-pack temptation, and... wow. She'd never seen the perfect male specimen...until now.