Sandra's Classics - The Bad Boys of Romance - Boxed Set (13 page)

‘Am I right?’ she demanded
because suddenly, his answer mattered.

'Yes,' he said sharply, 'I guess you are.'

Anger and something else, something she didn't want to identify, filled her.

She swung away from him
, poured some hot water into the skillet, and started scrubbing it clean.

‘I thought you were going to catch some trout,’ she said. ‘
Isn't it getting kind of late?'

There was a silence. Then Chad spoke.

'Yes,' he said, his voice taut with anger, ‘it sure as hell is. Remember to keep that fire built up.’

‘Don’t worry about a thing,’ she said coolly. ‘Take your time.’

The door slammed shut and she dropped the cleaning cloth and sat down at the table.

What a sens
eless argument!

Had she expected him to say,
‘I’m going to change my whole life, now that I’ve met you, Jessie? If you’re in New York, I will be, too.’

‘Damn!’ she said
, getting to her feet and pacing the cabin.

Maybe this was cabin fever, for real. If only they could get out of here. If only they hadn’t been trapped by a snowstorm
.

Of course, Chad didn’t call it that. In fact, he’d laughed at her when she made the pronounce
ment the day before.

‘This isn’t a snowstorm, Jess,’ he’d said, coming to stand beside her in the open doorway. ‘That’s only about
six inches of snow out there.’

‘You’re right,’ she’d agreed solemnly, staring at the blowing snow. ‘It’s not a storm, it’s a blizzard.’

He’d smiled and slipped his arm lightly around her shoulders. ‘Maybe in New York. Here, it’s nothing but a dusting. Beautiful, isn’t it?’

She
'd had to admit he was right.

‘That ridge looks as if someone sprinkled it with sugar. I can hardly wait to get outside with my camera. I want to walk up to the top.’

‘You won’t have time.’

‘Sure I will. It’s early—we have lots of daylight left.’

He'd shaken his head. ‘You can’t be out more than ten minutes.’'

‘Come on, Chad, what are you talking about? It’ll take me that long just to get to the ridge.’

‘Ten minutes,’ he'd repeated. ‘If you don’t agree to that, you can’t go out at all.’

She
'd stepped back and stared at him.

'Is this a joke?'

‘You can’t go out for long wearing sneakers. And you haven’t got enough warm clothing.’

‘
Of course I have. I look like a—like a dumpling in all these layers but I’m warm enough.’

‘I don’t want you to get cold and wet, Jess.’

‘For goodness’ sake, you sound like my mother!'

‘Ten minutes,’ he
'd said gruffly. ‘That’s it.’

‘You’re letting your title go to your head, doctor. You’re not a medical man, you know.’

‘I know about the cold. You don't.'

Jessica had pulled on all her layers of clothing by then.

'Excuse me,’ she'd said politely. ‘Would you just step aside?’

Chad
's answer had been to shut the door and lean back against it, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

‘I didn’t hear your
answer. Ten minutes. Yes or no?'

   
‘I'm going outside,' she'd said. 'Understand?'

 
‘Sure,’ he'd said, with a little smile. ‘You can do whatever you like—once you get past me.’

    She'd stared at him, knowing the argument was ridiculous, knowing, too, that e
verything he’d said made sense.

  
The snow was deep and it would be stupid to get wet and chilled to the bone, especially since they had nothing more therapeutic than a handful of aspirin.

   
Her eyes had met his and she'd drawn in her breath. There was something about his narrowed gaze and lazy smile that made her pulse beat quicken, something that made her want to defy him, to push him past the bonds of propriety.

    She'd reached fo
r the doorknob. His hand had shot out and curled around her wrist.

A thrill of excitement
had raced through her.

  
‘I can take care of myself.’

‘You’re not behaving as if you can.’

‘What gives you the right...?’

 
‘I care about you,’ he'd said, his voice rough with anger. ‘That gives me the right. Damn it, Jessie, will you listen?’

‘No,’ she
'd said, ‘no, I won’t.’

‘You will, even if I have to make you!’

   The thrill had coursed through her again. ‘That’s right,’ she'd said, trying to twist free of him. ‘Prove how big and tough you are. I forgot you were an expert in western macho. I forgot...’

  He had cursed, pulled her forward, and her body had pressed against his.

    Suddenly they were both still, shocked into immobility by the unexpected, electric contact, and then his arms had closed around her and his mouth captured hers.

  
Her hands had lifted between them, pushing ineffectually against his chest; then, with a speed that took her breath away, Jessica had sunk into his embrace, just as she had the other times he’d taken her in his arms, only this time she wanted the feeling to go on forever.

 
It was only when she felt his arms tightening around her like bands of steel, only when her lips parted in urgent response to the increasing demand of his, that she suddenly knew she had to pull free of his embrace if she were to keep from falling into a velvet abyss from which there might be no return.

    It had taken
all her strength to pull her mouth from his. The sound of their ragged breathing had filled the small room.

‘That wasn’t fair,’ she
'd whispered.

‘You’re right,’
he’d answered, running his hand along her cheek. ‘It wasn’t meant to be.’

She had turned away then, upset as much by the knowledge that he had deliberately engineered what had happened as by her reaction to it.

Chad hadn’t stopped her as she slipped past him. Instead, he’d followed her down the snowy main street of the ghost town, watching in silence as she snapped off a roll of film. The cold air and blowing snow had cleared her head, but soon her fingers and toes felt numb and she’d glanced at her watch.

‘I’ve got three minutes to spare,’ she’d said. ‘But I’m going inside now.’

He had smiled politely. ‘Good idea.’

They’d spent the rest of the afternoon at a com
panionable distance, sitting in front of the fire, playing a lopsided game of poker with a mouse-nibbled deck of cards that was missing a queen of hearts and an eight of clubs.

Neither of them had referred to what had happened but it had changed things between them.

  They were both short-tempered, and during the night
, the darkness in the little cabin had been filled with their awareness of each other. She’d heard Chad arrange and rearrange his tarpaulin on the floor near the fireplace. She’d been awake when he slipped quietly outside, awake still when he’d come back into the little cabin a long while later...

The skillet fell from her hand and clattered to the floor. She bent and picked it up
, and she thought of how quickly things could change.

 
A few days ago, she’d never have imagined wanting a man like this, not just wanting him but needing him…

Something banged loudly against the cabin window. Jessica spun around and looked across the room, heart pounding. The hermit? she wondered. Chad had said he was long gone, but
still...

She laughed shakily. It had been a branch, she
realized, brought down from the lodgepole pine that stood like a sentinel just outside the cabin. The weight of the snow must have broken it off. There was a loud, snapping sound: another branch, she thought, and then, suddenly, there was a roaring noise in the chimney. She leaped backwards as a deluge of snow and ash tumbled into the hearth, smothering the fire and filling the cabin with sooty smoke.

Dear Lord, what was happening?

S
he grabbed her sweater and wrenched open the door.

The snow crunched sharply underfoot as she stepped outside. A large pine branch lay on the roof; she could see at a glance what had happened. The snow had broken a heavy branch and it had fallen on the chimney. Only a couple of bricks had been knocked off the top, but the branch had disgorged its snowy cargo down the chimney. Jessica ducked back into the smoky cabin and stalked to the fireplace.

What a mess! She squatted before the hearth and stared at the tumble of snow and wood. The cabin was chilling already; without the blazing fire, the cold air that found its way through the chinks in the logs had free reign in the little room.

Well
, there was nothing to do but clear the hearth and rebuild the fire. And the sooner she got to work, the better.

By the time she had finished, her arms and back were fierce knots of pain. But the hearth was clean; she had emptied it of ashes, wet wood and snow and now it awaited the laying of a fresh fire. That should do it, she thought, arranging the last bit of kindling and wood.

And just in time; even with all the heavy work she’d been doing, she was beginning to feel the cold. Jessica got to her feet and reached to the table behind her for the matches. She could hardly wait for the first tiny leap of flame, the first curl of smoke...

‘Damn!’ she said aloud, turning towards the table.

Where were the matches? In her pockets, perhaps? No, not there. On the floor, then?

‘Damn,’ she said again. That was where they were, all right ... soaked, limp, and useless as they lay in a melted puddle of snow.

She picked them up and tossed them aside. There had to be another book of matches somewhere. But a methodical check of all their supplies and clothing turned up nothing. Well, at least she knew where the balance of their precious hoard of matches was. They were in a waterproof container in Chad’s backpack—and the backpack was at the creek with its owner.

She pulled on her last remaining sweater and buttoned it. Its warmth was fleeting and within seconds, she was shivering.

  Keep the fire built up, Chad had said, and now they didn’t even have a fire. She clapped her icy hands together and two-stepped around the room like a demented ballerina. By the time he got back, she’d be a lump of frozen flesh. And he’d be chilled to the bone after all this time down at the creek, expecting to be' greeted by a warm, roaring fire...

Well, there was a simple solution. The creek was barely a five-minute walk away. Chad had described its location to her the first day. She hadn’t been there—the first few days, her ankle had hurt too much. She hadn’t dared suggest it yesterday, not after their run-in about her getting sick if she got wet and cold...

Ten minutes, he’d said, she could be outside for ten minutes and no longer, which meant he couldn’t very well scold her for going after the matches. The whole thing would take no more than that. And besides, she told herself, marching towards the door, what choice did she really have? She could either go out there and freeze her nose off, or sit here and freeze her bottom off.

She hesitated as she closed the door behind her. What had he said that first night? A rule of survival, he’d called it. Know where you’ve been, know where you are, know where you’re going. And she knew all three. The creek was due east of the cabin, and there were Chad’s tracks. All she had to do was follow them.

It was cold, of course, but the kiss of the sun was pleasant on her face. Her ragtag outfit seemed warm enough, although she could feel the occasional sharp bite of the wind through it.

The snow crunched loudly under her feet as she walked along Main Street.

 
Lord, it was so quiet! The sagging doors and windows of the empty ghost town seemed to watch her accusingly as she trudged through the snow.

Chad’s footsteps stretched ahead like signposts along a highway.

She hunched down into her sweater, picturing his reaction to her arrival at the creek. He’d be surprised, that was for sure. He might even be annoyed, but only until she explained what had happened. Would he want to move to another cabin? No, she thought, he’d picked this one because its roof and walls were intact, as was its door and both its old glass windows. The chimney was still functional, as far as she could tell. And there didn’t seem to be any other branches hanging over the roof.

Jessica glanced up at the sky and a shudder ran through her. There was a cloud moving over the sun and without its brightness, the temperature seemed to have dropped ten degrees.

Where was that creek, anyway? Five minutes east, Chad had said, but she’d left the town behind at least that long ago and there wasn’t any sign of a creek or a pond or anything larger than the icy puddles she kept stepping over and around. And into, she thought with a grimace. It had become impossible to follow his footsteps; the wind had sculpted the snow into curves and ridges and obliterated them.