Sweet Talk

by Jackie Merritt

  Her gaze swept the interior of her cabin. If there were children, she would let them use her one bed. Grown-ups could stretch out on the floor near the fireplace. She had plenty of blankets and food. Yes, she would definitely help out whoever came to her door, whether it be man, woman or child.

  Then she heard a voice. “Val? Val?”

  Startled at hearing her own name shouted loudly enough to compete with the wind, she stiffened defensively. Who was out there? In the next heartbeat Val relaxed. Jinni had sent someone to check on her. Maybe it was Jim, badgered by Jinni and possibly Estelle to brave the storm and make sure Val was safe and sound.

  She went to the door before the person had time to knock, with words such as, “My God, Jim, you didn’t have to come way out here just because Jinni’s a worrywart,” on the tip of her tongue.

  Only once the door was opened wide enough for her to see the man bent into the wind and making his way to her cabin, Val’s heart nearly stopped. She was looking at Reed Kingsley….

  She almost slammed the door in his face. She was so angry she truly couldn’t speak. In fact, the only thing she could do was walk over to the fireplace and stand with her back to it while she stared daggers at this intrusive busybody of a man who believed so much in his own macho charm that he couldn’t believe in her disinterest.

  Reed stepped in, shut the door behind him and stood there not quite knowing where to put himself. Val was all right. Her cabin was small, but it appeared comfortable and adequately equipped. In fact, it was a cozy little place. One room.

  “I—I guess I was, uh, worried for nothing,” he stammered. “About, uh, you, I mean.” This was embarrassing. He never stammered.

  Val opened her mouth and started to say, “And why would you worry about me, in any case?” She got to the word worry and nearly choked on it because of the explosive crash that came from outside and actually shook the cabin.

  Reed was as stunned as Val. It took a second for him to get his bearings and sprint for the door. Val rushed outside right behind him, and only because of the light by the door could they make out the behemoth of a tree that was lying across the front half of Reed’s SUV.

  “What the hell…?” Reed mumbled, only because he didn’t know what to say. His SUV was barely recognizable. The huge pine tree had smashed the vehicle’s hood and windshield, lying at a peculiar angle. True, the back end of his rig wasn’t crumpled, but it wasn’t much good without the motor.

  Val’s SUV was in front of his. He had parked in her narrow little driveway right behind her rig, and there was no way to maneuver her vehicle around his, or the tree. They were—both he and Val—stuck.

  How long they would be stuck on the snowy mountain depended on the duration of the storm. Maybe after six or seven days Tag would decide his brother had been in the mountains long enough and call in a Montana Search and Rescue team.

  For some strange reason, that thought made Reed laugh. The sound carried to Val, who was shivering in the cold and staring at the mess that had once been a proud and stately tree and an SUV that had probably cost three times what she had paid for her much smaller car. And Reed thought it was funny?

  Shuddering because she might be out here with a madman, although he’d never seemed that odd before, she turned and ran back inside the cabin. They had left the door open and the place was now almost as cold inside as the storm outside. She slammed the door and hurried over to the fireplace to stoke and poke and add more wood.

  Reed walked in and he, too, slammed the door shut. Then, without an invitation to make himself comfortable, or even a sympathetic look from Val because his SUV was wrecked, he took off his heavy jacket and asked, “Where should I put this?”

  Oh, what an opening that was, she thought, with the answer she would love to express burning her tongue.

  But, considering the situation, crudity or bald-faced rudeness wasn’t her best course of action. He was here, intruding once again, but this time, furious or not, she couldn’t kick him out.

  While she was making up her mind on how best to speak to this overbearing person, he got back into his jacket. She stared. He was crazy!

  “I’m going to haul in some things,” Reed said, as though he had every right to crowd her little cabin with God knew what.

  She watched him go, then went over to her chair and got her blanket, which she drew around herself. But she didn’t sit down, because that would put her back to the door, and she wanted to see what sort of “things” he hauled in. Instead, she stood as close to the fire as was safe—it had a sturdy screen to block flying embers—and watched the door.

  It opened and Reed came in carrying a huge box. “This is food.”

  Val finally found her voice, and she totally forgot about it being best to avoid rudeness. Sounding downright hateful, she said, “And you brought food up here because…? Do you think I’m brainless enough to come out here for a weekend without something to eat?”

  Her sarcasm, her displeasure, her dislike, gave Reed a start. He took a breath and told himself to get over it. She didn’t like him, she never had liked him and she probably never would.

  So he’d made another mistake, hadn’t he? Rescuing Valerie Fairchild, or attempting to rescue her, was, in her eyes, a hanging offense. She wanted no man’s help. She was a self-sufficient, independent woman and…

  But wait! If all that were true, and it sure seemed to be true, why had she sent him those flowers? And invited him to her house tonight? It didn’t add up…none of it.

  “I’ve never thought of you as brainless, quite the opposite, in fact. I’ll just set this box over by the refrigerator for now.” Reed put the box down and went back outside.

  Val felt hopeless…and helpless. Apparently she wasn’t smart enough to make Reed Kingsley understand that she didn’t want him poking around in her life. She didn’t want any man hanging around, telling her lies about her beauty and intelligence just to get into her panties.

  She glanced at the bed. One bed, two people. Well, if he had come up here under the guise of saving her from the storm to try one more time to pierce her protective armor and get her into bed—and what else could he want from her?—he was in for one very big surprise.

  Val returned to her chair and a second later Reed came in again, this time loaded with blankets and a big canvas bag.

  She took one look, then turned away and stared into the fire.

  “Bedding and a few personal things,” Reed said. “I can see you don’t have a lot of extra space in here, and I know you’re pissed off at me because I dared to invade your privacy once again, but would you please stop sulking long enough to give me an inkling of where you would prefer I put these things?”

  “Sulking? I’m sulking?” Val got to her feet. “I can’t believe your gall, even though you keep proving it over and over again. What I’d really like to know is who delegated you my keeper?”

  Reed strode to the bed, let the blankets drop from his arms onto it, then set his bag on the floor. He took off his jacket and laid it on top of the bag.

  “You have no answer for that, do you?” Val said with a sneer.

  “I don’t waste my breath answering ridiculous questions.” Reed walked over to the box of food and opened the door of the refrigerator. It was almost full, but he’d brought items that should be refrigerated, so he moved Val’s food around to make room for his.

  She was steaming. What was he doing, taking over the place? “My question was not ridiculous, but you are!”

  Leaving the kitchen area, Reed cocked an eyebrow and eyed her with a withering look. “And you, apparently, are something I never would have guessed before today’s fiasco.” He was thinking of the dirty flower trick she’d pulled on him. “You, Dr. Fairchild, are immature.”

  Val’s jaw dropped. “And just how mature do you think a man determined to get a disinterested woman into bed is?”

  He snorted out a sarcastic laugh. “Is that what you’ve been thinking—that the only reason I’ve t
ried to get to know you was to get you into bed? Now that is beyond immature. What do you think we are, a couple of teenagers? Can’t you conceive of a male-female relationship without taking it into the bedroom?”

  Val’s brain stalled, but just for a moment. No way was she going to let him get away with that line of hooey.

  “You are so full of crap it’s a wonder it’s not coming out of your ears,” she scoffed.

  “Sure I am. That’s why I came out here during the worst storm of the decade to make sure you were all right, and why my SUV is crushed under one of your trees!”

  “So it’s my fault a tree was blown over and fell on your stupid SUV?” she shrieked.

  “I don’t know if it’s anyone’s fault, but think about this, Doc. If my SUV hadn’t been parked exactly where it was, when that tree fell it would have landed on this cabin!”

  Val backed up a step and thought of the odd angle of that fallen pine, pictured the scene outside in her mind. It stunned her. This overbearing jerk was right. My God, he was right! A very strange fate—a capricious fate?—had timed Reed’s arrival with the deadly gust of wind that had sent that tree crashing toward her cabin.

  Suddenly weak-kneed, she plopped into her chair and laid one hand over her eyes.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Reed asked as he hurried over to her.

  She sensed him standing there, and she dropped her hand to glare at him. “Don’t you dare!”

  “Dare what?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  Reed shook his head in disgust and backed up, which put him closer to the fire. It felt great and he stepped aside just a little so some of that wonderful warmth would also reach Val. He doubted she would notice his consideration. And even if she did notice, she wouldn’t mention it or thank him.

  He was right. She sat there with a distant, unreadable expression on her face and stared into the flames.

  “I’m hungry,” Reed said. “Would you like something to eat?”

  “No. But you go ahead and make yourself at home.”

  Her tone was so patronizing, so scathing, that Reed actually winced. But he hadn’t eaten since noon and really was hungry, so he simply walked away and opened the refrigerator to take out things for a sandwich.

  Val wouldn’t look at him. It was still hard to believe he was here, destroying her contentment, acting as though he owned the place, totally ruining her previous enjoyment of simple pleasures. But then she thought of that big pine and how Reed’s SUV had taken the brunt instead of the north side of her little cabin. Her nice metal roof could have had a huge hole in it; huge branches of pine could be crowding her into a far corner, where she would be stunned, cold—a hole in her roof would turn the cabin into an icebox in minutes—and scared out of her wits.

  “Would you like a sandwich? I brought some very good turkey with me,” Reed called.

  She slowly turned her head and finally looked directly at him. “I don’t want a sandwich.”

  Reed stood with his backside to the fire and ate his sandwich. “I’m glad you’re well again,” he said quietly.

  Val’s eyes jerked up. “The state of my health is not a subject open for discussion,” she snapped.

  Reed sighed inwardly and took another bite. She was the hardest person to talk to he’d ever known. Had she always been so distant, so guarded? What made Valerie Fairchild tick? And why did he care? Why, after the many cold shoulders she’d shown him and all of the downright nasty things she’d said to him, did he still want to know her? Why did he like looking at her? Her short hair was disarranged, she wore no makeup and her clothing was bulky and without any sex appeal at all, and still, just looking at her raised his blood pressure and created exotic images in his brain. And he’d denied having ideas about sweet-talking her into bed? She’d read him like a book. If only he could do the same with her.

  Reed tore his gaze from Val to try to get his thoughts headed in another direction, and took his time in looking around, finishing his sandwich while he did so.

  Val saw his scrutiny as patronization. After all, he was as rich as Croesus and this tiny cabin probably looked like a hovel to him. “I happen to love it,” she said coldly.

  “Pardon?” Reed brought his eyes back to her. “You happen to love what?”

  “What you were checking out so closely.”

  He tried to pinpoint her meaning. What had he been closely checking out? All he’d done was look around the cozy interior of her comfy cabin. Why would that annoy her?

  “Look,” he said calmly. “Let’s at least pretend to get along. In case it hasn’t yet sunk in, we are going to have to put up with each other until the weather clears up.”

  “And then some superhero is going to fly in, remove that big pine from the roof of your car, move it out of the way so I can drive mine to the road and—”

  “Oh, please!” Reed was tired of her sarcasm. “Don’t you even know how to be civil? Weren’t you taught anything about hospitality or civility?”

  Val threw aside the blanket and jumped up. “I doubt that your education was any better than mine! Civility is wasted on unaware people.”

  “And I fit that category?”

  “Like a glove.” Val stormed around the room, wishing ardently for the peace that had permeated the air before this man’s arrival.

  Of course, if he hadn’t arrived, she’d be shivering in a corner with a hole in her roof.

  Valerie Fairchild, would you stop being a brat! It was her mother’s voice in her head. She was twelve and throwing a tantrum because she didn’t want to go to yet another private school after being politely kicked out of the last one.

  Val stopped racing around the room and inhaled a long breath. “Would you like some tea?”

  Reed started as though struck by an invisible fist. She had actually sounded civil. Dare he trust his own ears? “Yes, I would thoroughly enjoy some tea,” he said cautiously.

  Val walked over to the pot. “This has cooled down. I’ll make more.”

  Afraid to count on Val’s surprising civility to last for very long, Reed left her to her own devices. His inquisitive gaze landed on the blankets he’d dropped in a heap on the bed. Nodding because he’d come up with a positive plan of action, he got the blankets and began spreading them out on the rug in front of the fireplace. He had them smoothed out when Val walked over with a fresh pot of tea and another mug.

  She stopped at the edge of the blankets and glared at Reed. He was unaware; he’d just proved it again by spreading his damn blankets without seeking her opinion or invitation.

  But she was trying to be thankful that her roof didn’t have a gaping hole in it. And thankful that she wasn’t shivering in a corner as snow fell into the cabin and froze her into a large icicle, so she gritted her teeth and said—civilly, of course— “The tea is ready.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was getting colder. The wind-driven snow hit the windows and outside walls of the cabin like sharp, tiny needles. Val wrapped her blanket more tightly around her and Reed, seated on his blankets on the floor, added more wood to the fire.

  “This cabin wasn’t intended for winter use,” Reed commented.

  “I’ve used it many times during winter months.”

  “In this kind of storm?”

  “Well…no.”

  “You know, you could have some electric heaters installed. I’m talking about professionally installed electrical panels, for safety’s sake.”

  “Which would be enormously helpful if the power went out,” Val drawled.

  “The power’s not out now, is it?”

  “I’ve been expecting it to happen since the blizzard began.”

  Reed had noticed the candles and matches she’d put out, and, of course, she was right about electric heaters being useless should the power go out. But while a blizzard, or even a strong electrical storm, could wreak havoc with the utilities of an area, it hadn’t yet happened in this case. And she would have been more c
omfortable with heaters blowing warm air.

  Reed tried not to judge but it was obvious she would rather argue than agree with anything he said, which was why he didn’t voice his next suggestion: propane heaters. Instead, he stared into the flames and thought about what might have caused Val to erect such an unbreachable wall around herself. Why was she protecting herself? Jinni was so different, so open and outgoing with friends and strangers alike, that Reed could only conclude that Val’s past contained some element that Jinni’s did not. He’d seen Val at work with the animals, and it was obvious she loved life at the Animal Hospital. But then, cats and dogs weren’t an emotional threat, were they?

  But something was. Men, possibly? Startled by the sudden clarity of his analysis—it seemed pretty darn logical—Reed decided to leave that subject alone for the time being. He got to his feet and threw another chunk of wood on the fire.

  “Do you have a flashlight?” he asked. “Mine, if they’re still usable, are in my rig.”

  Val looked up. “Yes, I have a flashlight…several, in fact. Why?”

  “I want to take another look outside.”

  “Your SUV is totaled, if that’s what you’re thinking about.”

  “It’s badly damaged, but I doubt that it’s totaled. Where’s that flashlight?”

  “There’s one by the bed, one in the bathroom, one in the cupboard next to the window in the kitchen and one right here.” Val snaked her arm out from the warmth of her down-filled comforter and picked up the flashlight she’d tucked under the edge of her chair.

  “I see you’re prepared for the worst,” Reed said.

  “And hoping for the best.”

  He gave her a long look. “You know, that’s a very intriguing remark. What, in your book, would be the best that could happen, sweetheart?”

  Val’s eyes widened in sudden shock. Sweetheart? Sweetheart? “Here,” she said stiffly, holding out the flashlight. “If you want it, take it.”