Two Alone (20 page)

"You were standing in
the sunshine out on t
he tarmac. You were talking to a man., .your father. But then I didn't know he
w
as your father.
I
watched you hug him, kiss his cheek. I was
thinking, 'That lucky bastard knows what it's like to play with her hair in bed.'"

"Don't, Cooper." Her fists were clenched at her sides. She was sitting as tall and straight as a rocket about to be launched.

"When you got on the plane, I wanted to reach out and touch your hair. I wanted to grab handfuls of it, use it to move your head down even with my thighs."

"Stop this!"

Abruptly he ceased speaking and took another draught of whiskey. If anything, his eyes grew darker, more sinister. "Von like hearing that, don't you?"

"No."

"You like knowing you've got that kind of power over men." "You're wrong. Very wrong. I felt extremely self-conscious about being the only woman on that airplane."

He muttered an obscenity and took another drink. "Like today?"

"Today? When?"

He set his cup aside without spilling a single drop. His coordination, like his reflexes, was still intact. He was a mean, nas
t
y drunk, but he wasn't a sloppy one. He leaned forward, beyond
the edge of
his chair, putting his face within inches of hers.

"When
I
came in and fo
und you bundled up naked in that
blanket."

"
T
hat wasn't calculated. It was an error in judgment. I had no way of knowing you would come back so soon. You never do. You're usually away for hours at
a time. That's why I decided
to take a sponge bath while you were gone."

"1
knew the minute
1
came through the door that you had bathed," he said in a low, thrumming voice. "I could smell th
e
soap on your skin." His eyes moved down over her, as though seeing hare skin rather than her heavy, cable-knit sweater. "You favored me with a peek at your breast, didn't you?"

"No!"

"Like hell."

"I didn't! When I realized the blanket had slipped, I—"

"Too late. I saw it. Your nipple. Pink. Hard."

Rusty
drew in several uneven breaths. This bizarre discussion was having a strange effect on her. "Don't say any more. We promised each other not to be abusive."

"I'm not being abusive. Maybe to myself, but not to you."

"Yes, yes, you are. Please, Cooper, stop this. You don't know—"

"What I'm saying? Yes, I do. I kn
ow exactly what I'm saying." H
e looked directly into her eyes.
"I
could kiss your nipples for a week and never get tired of doing it."

The whiskey huskiness of his voice barely made the words audible,
b
ut Rusty heard them. They intoxicated her. She swayed unsteadily under their impact. She whimpered and shut her eyes in the hopes of blocking out the outrageous words and the mental pictures they inspired.

His tongue moving over her flesh, soft and wet, tender and ardent, rough and exciting.

Her eyes popped open and she glared at him defensively.
"
D
on't you dare speak to me like that."

"Why not?"

"I don't like it."

He gave her a smug and skeptical smile. "You don't like me telling you how I've wanted to put my hands all over you?
H
ow
I've fantasized about your thighs being opened for me? How I've lain in that damn bed night after
night listening to your breath
ing and wanting to be so deep inside you that—

"Stop it!" Rusty leaped from her chair and pushed past him, trying to make good an escape out the door of the cabin. She would survive the bitter cold far better than she would his heat.

Cooper was too quick for her. She never reached the
doo
r
.
Before she'd taken two steps, he had her locked in an inescapable embrace. He arched her back as he bent over her. His breath struck her fearful features hotly.

"If it was my destiny to be stranded in this godforsaken place, why did it have to be with a woman who looked like you? Huh?" He shook her slightly as though expecting a logical explanation. "Why'd you have to be so damn beautiful? Sexy? Have a mouth designed for loving a man?"

Rusty tried to wiggle free. "I don't want this. Let me go."

"Why couldn't I be trapped here with someone ugly and sweet? Somebody I could have in bed and not live to regret it. Somebody who would be grateful for my attention. Not
the
shallow little tart who ge
t
s off by driving men crazy. Not a socialite. Not
you."

"I'm warning you. Cooper." Gritting her teeth, she struggled against him.

"Somebody far less attractive, but
useful.
A woman who could cook." He smiled nastily. "I'll bet you cook all right. In bed. That'
s
where you cook. I'll bet that's where you serve up your best dishes."

He slid his hands over her buttocks and brough
t
her up h
ard
against himself, thrusting his hips forward and making conta
ct
with her lower body.

"Does it give you a thrill, knowing you do that to me?"

It gave her a thrill, but not the kind of which he spoke. This intimacy with his hardness stole her breath. She grabbed his shoulders for support. Her eyes clashed with his. For seconds, they held there.

Then Rust
y
broke their stare and shoved him away. She despised him for putting her through this. But she was als
o
a
shamed of her own, involuntary reaction to everything he'd said. It had been fleeting, but for a moment there, her choice could have gone either way.

"Keep away from me," she said in a voice that trembled with purpose
. "I mean it. If you don't, I’ll
turn that knife you gave me on you. Do you hear me? Don't lay a hand on me again." She strode past him and threw herself face down on her bed, using the coarse sheet to coot her fevered cheeks.

Cooper was left standing in the center of the room. He raised
b
oth hands and plowed them through his long hair,
painfully raki
ng it back off his face. Then he slunk back to his chair in
fro
nt of the fireplace and picked up
t
he jug and his tin cup. When Rusty dared to glance at him, he was still sitting there morosely sipping the whiskey.

She panicked the following morning when she saw that his
b
ed hadn't been slept in. Had he wandered out during the night?
H
ad something terrible happened to him?
Th
rowing off the covers—she didn't remember pulling them up over herself last
night
—she raced across the floor and flung open the door.

She slumped against the jamb in relief when she saw Cooper. He was splitting logs. The sky was clear. The sun was shining.

What had been icicles hanging from the caves the day before were now incessant drips. The tempera
t
ure was comparatively mild. Cooper wasn't even wearing his coat. His shirttail was hanging out loose, and when he turned around Rusty saw that his shirt was unbuttoned.

He spotted her, but said nothing as he tossed several of the split logs onto the mounting pile near the edge of the porch. His face had a greenish cast and there were dark crescents beneath his bloodshot eyes.

Rusty stepped back inside, but left the door open to let in fresh air. It was still cold, but the sunshine had a cleansing effect, h
e
seemed to dispel the hostility lurking in the shadows of the cabin,

Hastily Rusty rinsed her face and brushed her hair. The
f
ire in the stove had gone out completely. By now she was skilled at adding kindling and starting a new one. In minutes she had on
e
burning hot enough to boil the coffee.

For a change, she opened a canned ham and fried slices of it in a skillet. The aroma of cooking pork made her mouth water: she hoped it would tantalize Cooper
’
s appetite, too. Instead o
f
oatmeal, she cooked rice. She would have traded her virtue
for
a stick of margarine. For
t
unately she didn't have an opportunit
y
to bar
t
er it, so she settled for drizzling
t
he ham drippings over the rice, which miraculously came out just right.

Splurging, she opened a can of peaches, put them in a bowl, and set them on the table with the rest of the food. She co
uld
no longer hear the crunching sound of splitting logs, so sh
e
assumed Cooper would be in shortly.

She was right. He came in moments later. His gait was
cons
iderably more awkward than usual. While he was washing
his
hands at the sink. Rusty took two aspirin tablets from the first-aid kit and laid them on his plate.

He stared down at them when he reached the table, then took them with the glass of water beside his plate. "Thanks." Gingerly lie settled himself into his chair.

"You're welcome." Rusty knew better than to laugh, but the careful s
w
ay he was moving was indicative of how severe his hangover was. She poured a cup of strong, black coffee and passed it to him. His hand was shaking as he reached for it. The log-splitting exercise had been self-imposed punishment
f
or his whiskey-drinking binge. She was glad he hadn
’
t chopped off a toe. Or worse.

"How do you feel?"

Without moving his head, he looked over at her. "My eye
lash
es hurt."

She held back her smile. She also resisted the compulsion to reach across the table and lift the sweaty strands of hair off his
fo
rehead. "Can you eat?"

"I think so. I should be able to.
I
spent what seemed like
ho
urs, uh, out back. If the lining of my stomach is still there,
i
t
'
s
all that's left."

While he sat with his shoulders hunched and his hands resting carefully on either side of his plate
where he'd planted them, she di
shed up the food. She even cut his ham into bite-size pieces before scooting the plate in front of him. Faking a deep breath, h
e
picked up his fork and took a tentative bite. When he was certain that it was going to stay down, he took another, then another, and was soon eating normally.

"This is good," he said after several minutes of silence.

"Thank you. Be
tt
er than oatmeal, for a change."

"Yeah."

"I noticed the weather is much warmer."

Actually, what she had noticed was chat the exercise had caused the hair on his chest to curl damply. He'd r
e
bu
t
toned most of the buttons on his shirt before coming to the table, hut it was open far enough for her to get a glimpse of
t
ha
t
impressive chest.

"We might get lucky and have a few more days of this before die next storm blows through." "That would be nice."

"Hmm. I could get a lot done around here."

They'd never had a pointless, polite conversation before. This exchange of meaningless chitchat was more awkward
t
han any of their arguments had been, so both dropped it. In a silence
s
o
profound they could hear the water dripping off the eaves outside, they finished their meal and drank
t
heir second cups of coffee.

When Rusty stood up to clear
t
he cable, Cooper said,

"I think the aspirin helped. My headache's almost gone."

"I'm glad."

He cleared his throat loudly and fiddled with the knife and fork he'd laid on his empty plate. "Look, about last night, I, uh, I don't have an excuse for it."

She smiled at him with understanding. "If
I
could have stood the taste of that whiskey, I might have gotten drunk myself There have been numerous times since the crash when I've wanted tha
t
kind of escape. You don't have to apologize."