Two Alone (17 page)

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Authors: Sandra Brown

Tags: #Contemporary, #Suspense, #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Vietnam War; 1961-1975, #Northwest Territories, #Survival After Airplane Accidents; Shipwrecks; Etc, #Romantic Suspense Fiction, #Wilderness Survival, #Businesswomen

BOOK: Two Alone
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"About what?"

"It snowed several inches last night."

She studied his expressionless face tor a moment, then said with a great deal of pique. "If you're wanting to build a snowman, I'm not in the mood."

His eyes didn't waver, although she could tell that he was will-hilly restraining himself when he was sorely tempted to strangle her.

"The snowfall is important," he said calmly. "Once winter gets here our chances of being rescued ar
e
greatly reduced."

"I understand that," she replied in a serious tone befitting his observation. "What I don't understand is why it has such grave implications at this very minute."

"Because before we spend another day together, we've got to get some things straight, lay down some ground rules. If we're going to be marooned up here together all winter—which looks like a very real possibility—then we must reach an understanding on several points."

She sat up but kept the blanket raised to her chin. "Such as?"

"Such as no more pouting spells." His brows were drawn together in a straight, stern line of admonition. "I won't put up with that kind of brattiness from you."

"Oh, you won't?" she asked sweetly.

"No, I won't. You're not a child. Don't act like one."

"It's all right for you to insult me, but I'm supposed to turn the other cheek, is that it?"

For the first time, he looked away, apparently chagrined. "I probably shouldn't have said what I did yesterday."

"No, you shouldn't have. I don't know what evil thoughts you've cultivated in your di
rt
y li
ttle
mind, but don't blame m
e
for them."

He gnawed on the corner of his mustache. "I was mad
as
hell at you."

"Why?"

"Mainly because I...I don't like you very much. But I still want to
sleep
with you. And by 'sleep'
I
don't mean just sleep."
He
he had slapped her, she couldn
't
have been more astounded.
H
er lips parted with a sudden intake of breath, but he didn't give her a chance to say anything. "Now isn't the time to beat around the bush or to mince words, right?"

"Right," she repeated hoarsely

"I hope you can appreciate my honesty." 1 can.

"Okay, concede this point. We're physically attracted to each other. Bluntly stated, we want to get off together. It doesn't make any sense, but it's a fact." Rusty's gaze dropped to her lap. I le waited until his patience gave out. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Say something for Cod's sake." "I'll concede both points."

He let out a long brea
th
. "All right then, knowing that, and knowing that it's unreasonable to do anything about it, and knowing, too, that's it's going to be a helluva long winter, we've
g
o
t
some things to iron out. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"First, we'll stop the mudsling
ing." Her russet eyes treated hi
m to a frosty stare. Grudgingly he added, "I'll admit to being
gu
ilty of that more than you. Let's ju
st promise not to be verbally ab
usive to each other from here on."

"
I
promise."

He nodded. "The weather will be our enemy. A fearsome one.
It
will require all our attention and energy. We can't afford the
luxury of fighting each other. Our survival depends on living together. Our sanity depends on doing it peaceably." I m listening.

He paused to collect his thoughts. "As I see it, our roles should he traditional."

"You Tarzan, me Jane."

"Sort of. I'll provide the food. You'll cook it."

"As you've so untactfully pointed out, I'm not a very good cook."

"You'll get better."

"I'll try."

"Don't get defensive if
I
offer you advice."

"Then don't make snide remarks about my lack of talent. I'm good at other things."

His eyes lowered to her lips. "I can't argue that." After a long, silent moment, he roused himself. "I don't expect you to wail on me hand and foot."

"I don't expect that from you, either. I want to pull my weight."

"I'll help you keep the cabin and our clothes clean."

"Thank you."

"I'll teach you to shoot more accurately so you can prou
d of
yourself when I'm gone."

"Gone?" she asked faintly, feeling that the rug had just bet
a
pulled out from under her.

He shrugged. "If the game gives out, if the stream freezes over, I might have to go in search of food."

She would face with fear and
dread the times she might have
to stay in the cabin alone, perhaps
f
or
days. Even a vulgar and
insulting Cooper was better than no Cooper at all.

"And this is the most impo
rtant point." He waited until he

ha
d her full attention, until her dazed eyes had refocused on him.

"I'm the boss," he said, tapping his chest. "Don't let's kid ourselves. This is a life
-
or
-
death situation. You might know all there is to know about residential real est
ate and California chic and the-
life-styles of the rich and famous. But up here, all that knowl
edge
isn't worth a damn. On your turf you can do wha
t
ever the lull you please and I say, more power
t
o
you,
'You
've come a long way, baby,' and all that. But up here, you obey me."

She was stung by his implication
that her field of expertise wa
sn't much use outside Beverly Hills. "As
I
recall,
I
haven't tried to usurp your position as the macho provider."

"Just see that you don't. In the wilderness there's no such thing is equality between the sexes."

He stood up and happened to catch sight o
f
the blanket lying on the
foot
of the bed. "One more thing: No more silly screens.
T
he cabin is too small and we're living too close together to play coy games like that. We've seen each other naked. We've touched
each
other naked. There're
no
more secrets. Besides," he said,
taki
ng his eyes over her, "if I want
ed you bad enough, no damn blan
ket would keep me from you. And if rape was what I had in mind, I would have done it a long
t
ime ago."

Their eyes locked and held. Finally, he turned his back. "It's
time
you got up. I've already started the coffee."

That morning the oatmeal was considerably better than it had
been
the day before. At least it didn'
t
stick to the palate like a day old peanut-butter sandwich. It had been frugally seasoned with salt and sugar. Cooper ate even- bite of his, but didn't offer
her
a compliment.

She didn't take umbrage as she once would have done. His
failure
t
o criticize was tantamount to a compliment. They bad only promised not to be verbally abusive; they hadn't promised to shower each other with flattery.

He went outside after breakfast and by the time he came in for a lunch of biscuits and canned soup, he had made himself a pair of snowshoes out of bent greenwood and woven dead vines. He strapped them to his boots and clumped around the cabin, modeling them for her, "These will make it a lot easier to navigate the ravine between here and
t
he river."

He spent the afternoon away from the cabin. She straightened it, but the housekeeping didn't take more than half an hour. Thai left her with nothing to do but fret until she saw him through the window at dusk, making awkward progress toward the cabin in the homemade snowshoes.

She rushed out on the porch to greet him with a cup of hot coffee and a tentative smile, feeling slightly foolish for being so pleased to see him return safe and sound.

Unstrapping the snowshoes and propping them against the cabin's outside wall, he looked at her strangely and took the pro
f
fered coffee. "Thanks." He stared at her through the cloud o
f
rising steam as he took a sip.

She noticed, as he held the cup to his lips, chat they weft chapped and that his hands were raw and red despite the shea
rl
ing gloves he always wore when he was outdoors. She wanted to commiserate, but decided against it. His lecture chat morning discouraged anything except mutual tolerance.

"Any luck at the stream?" she asked.

He nodded down toward
t
he creel, w
hich had belonged to t
he Gawrylows. "It's full. We'll leave some out to freeze and save them for days when I can't get down the ravine. And we should scan filling containers with water in case the pump freezes up."

Nodding, she carried the baske
t
of fish inside, proud of the appetizing aroma of her stew. She had made i
t wit
h dried beef
f
ound among the hermits' stock o
f
canned food. Its aroma filled the cabin. Cooper ate two full bowls of it and made her day by saying, "Pretty good," at the conclusion of the meal.

The days followed that basic pattern. He did his chores. She did hers. He helped her with hers. She helped him with his. They were scrupulously polite, if politely distant.

But while they could fill the short days with activity, the evenings seemed endless. They came early. First the sun sank below the tree line and cast the area surrounding the cabin in deep shadow, making outdoor chores hazardous and forcing them indoors.

The instant the sun was swallowed by the horizon, it was dark, even though it was still officially afternoon. Once dinner was e
aten
and the dishes were washed, there was little to do. There weren't enough inside chores to keep them occupied and separated. They had nothing to do except stare into the fire and avoid
s
taring at each other—something that required supreme concen
tra
tion on both their parts.

T
hat first snowfall melted
t
he next day, but the night following that, it snowed again and continued into the day. Because o
f
the steadily dropping temperature and blowing snow, Cooper returned to the cabin earlier than usual, which made the evening
s
tr
e
tch out unbearably long.

Rusty, her eyes swinging back and forth like twin pendulums,
watched him as he paced the leng
t
h of the cabin like a caged panther. The four walls were making her claustrophobic, and his restlessness only irritated her further. When she caught him scratching his chin, something she

d noticed him doing repeatedly, she asked with asperity, "What's the matter?"

He spun around as though spoiling for a fight and delighted that someone had finally picked one with him. "With what?"

"With you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you keep scratching your chin?"

"Because it itches."

"Itches?"

"The beard. Its at the itchy stage." "Well, that scratching is driving me crazy."

"
T
ough.
"

"Why don't you shave it off if it itches?"

"Because I don't have a razor, that's why."

"I—" She broke off when she realized that she was about
to
make a confession. Then, noticing that his eyes had narrowed suspiciously, she said haughtily "I do. I have one. I brought it along and now I'll bet you're glad I did."

Leaving her chair near the fireplace, she went to the shelf where she had stored her
t
oil
e
tries. She treasured them as a miser did his bag of gold coins. She brought the plastic,
disp
osable razor back to Cooper. And something else besides.

"
Put
this on your lips." She passed him the tube of lip gloss. "I
noticed
that your lips are chapped."

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