"Then how about telling me why you deliberately sent us down the wrong road?"
He heard her quick intake of breath. He wondered if she would refuse to answer until she exhaled slowly. "It...it wasn't the wrong road. Not exactly."
He squeezed her and she elbowed him again. Damn, if she didn't stop squirming her shapely rear end against him, he wouldn't be able to control his reaction no matter how cold the temperature in the room.
Another sigh reached him. Apparently oblivious to the effect she had on him, she confessed. "Okay, so it wasn't actually the main road you wanted, but it wasn't the wrong road either. It goes the right direction and meets up with the other, um, main highway and the Interstate eventually."
"Why did you do it? Do you hate me so much you want to ruin my life?" He hated the almost pleading tone in his voice, but had to seek the answer.
She lay very still. Even knowing of her careless actions, he loved having his arms around her, her warm body curled against his.
Her voice hinted at apology. "I...I didn't mean to ruin your life. I just meant to make us a little later getting to Dallas this evening, to worry you a little. I didn't know we would get snowbound and stranded in the middle of nowhere." She paused before asking, "How did you know I sent us on a different road?"
He noted she very carefully avoided using the word "wrong" again. "When we first got here and called the sheriff, I realized you knew exactly where we were and that it was miles from where we were supposed to be. I admit I wanted to choke you on the spot."
She touched the hand that lay at her waist. "And now, do you still want to choke me?"
"Maybe. Well, at least for a while I did. This meeting is too important to miss. Then, the sheriff said I40 is closed from Tucumcari, New Mexico across north Texas and over the Oklahoma line. Highway 287 is closed north from Quanah. I realized we probably wouldn't have fared any better on the main highway."
In fact, they might have been even worse off on the other road if they hadn’t found shelter. At least they had this house. Her little trick may even have saved their lives. Didn’t change her intent, though.
He exhaled. "Get some sleep. With the snow turned into an ice storm, we'll have a busy day here on The Ponderosa tomorrow."
Sleep evaded Trend, but Holly snuggled her head into the pillow at his shoulder. Soon he heard her breathing relax into slumber. A lifetime of work hinged on the meeting he would miss tomorrow. He prayed the bad weather extended to the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport and prevented the Amberfield Industries group from arriving on time.
In his mind he replayed the strategies he and Joe Bob worked out. His first call on arriving at this small ranch house on Sunday was to his assistant in Dallas with instructions to postpone the Monday morning meeting. He couldn’t make contact again to see if his orders had been carried out.
Even cell phone relay towers were no match for the battering winds of this demobilizing blizzard—especially in this area where there were a lot of service dead zones. There was no one left to call anyway. Either the meeting had been postponed or it had not, and he resigned himself to the fact that he had lost control over his fate. He suspected electrical lines would be down before morning with the weight of ice.
Instead of being marooned on a desert isle, he might as well be trapped on an iceberg. The beautiful woman stranded with him hated his guts, and he was less than crazy about her in spite of her beauty, brains and the reaction she incited from his hormones. His all-consuming lust whenever he thought of or saw her made this situation even less tenable.
Holly had surprised him, though. He’d expected whining and a tantrum, at least, and fear. So far, she’d pitched in to help without complaint. Well, until she realized the sleeping arrangements.
He smiled as he recalled her shocked expression when he mentioned shared body heat. At least he got a little of his own back then. She turned toward him in her sleep, snuggling up to him with her palms against his chest, one leg thrown over his.
He fought the instinct to pull her even closer and make passionate love to her. They fit so well together. He wondered how she would be as a lover, then mentally kicked himself for that line of thought.
Now he knew why the young Martin family had children so close in age. On this sagging mattress, which forced their bodies into intimate contact, a man and woman who loved one another would be drawn naturally into frequent lovemaking. Even with this ice princess with whom he had nothing in common, his mind and body cried out for their coupling.
He had no idea why she so resented him. It was more than their differences in business theory, because she had hated him at their first meeting two months ago. He racked his brain for a possible reason, but nothing came to him.
Maybe she just resented his buying the shares lost through her father's gambling. Why hold him responsible for her father’s stupidity? From all accounts, Walter Tucker was charming and glib but an absolute loser in all the ways that counted.
Grayson skirted the issue, but made it clear he hadn’t approved of his late son-in-law's management of Marvel, his ostentatious lifestyle, or his choice of Holly’s stepmother. So, why had Grayson stayed in the background? Buying into what had previously been solely a family-owned business left Trent an outsider with insufficient information.
If only Walter Tucker had stopped ranting long enough that day to listen to him...but why even go there? He would figure it all out eventually, but so far hadn't discovered how all the pieces fit. Trying to unravel the puzzle, Trent drifted softly to sleep.
***
The pirate returned to Holly's dreams. They were in the cabin of his ship, snug together in his bunk. This time his caresses inflamed her beyond her wildest imagination. Her fingers traced the line of the scar on his chest, her lips trailed kisses along the jagged ridge.
His mouth scorched a path down her neck and across her shoulders. Strong hands pushed her bra aside. Warm lips found her breast and his tongue laved her rigid nipple. The calluses of his fingers scintillated her skin as they moved to the elastic of her panties. His hand slid gently inside to touch her—
Her eyes flew open. "Hey! Stop it right now." Holly pounded Trent on his shoulders. "Get off me."
"Ow! What? Dammitall." He rolled onto his back and lay with an arm across his eyes and knees bent. His chest heaved.
"You better have been asleep, mister, or you have some explaining to do." Her heart pounded in her chest until surely he heard it. Good heavens, she’d dreamed about him. Who had he been dreaming of?
"Damn, Holly. Couldn't you just have tapped me on the shoulder? Did you have to pound me awake?"
She wondered if he had started the caresses or if she had. "I had to stop you in a hurry. You were...you were about to...you know."
He lowered his arm and raised himself to his elbow. "What? Have sex? Make love? Get it on? Do the nasty? Rock and roll? Just what do the people in your set call it?"
She jerked the cover to her chin. "My set? And what do you mean by that?"
"Oh, come off it, Princess. I mean the country club set, the hoi poloi, the lucky stiffs born with silver spoons in their mouths, the ritzy crowd you run with."
"If you'll remember, you are the one who bought my father's shares of our family company. I guess that makes us in the same set, as you put it." Never in a million years, buster. They would never be compatible in any setting other than a boardroom. Even then they totally disagreed.
He shook his head and lay back, his words echoing her thoughts. "Oh, no, I will never be one of your set. If I owned a dozen companies like Marvel I would still be just the poor schmuck who worked his way up, or the mean corporate raider who snatched a prize away from the local good ol'e boys. I still wouldn't belong."
Holly turned her back to him and punched her pillow. "Oh, I think a dozen companies might get you in there."
Exhaling a deep breath, he turned and spooned himself to her once again.
She gasped as his rigid arousal touched the cushion of her
hips. “Hmph, men. Here we are freezing to death and you’re jabbing my rear with your lodge pole.”
“Don’t take it personally, Princess. And thanks for the comparison.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a compliment. Turn over." She pushed at his shoulder. "Turn over now."
He rolled over, and she heard a quiet chuckle as she folded with his body.
Okay, so being held by him brought far more satisfaction than snuggling to his back. But she remembered the heat of his erection against her body and the almost overpowering desire it created in her. Not that she’d ever admit it to him, of course, but she’d be darned if she wanted temptation prodding her all night. Maybe this was better after all.
Her fists and elbows braced against his back as she slid toward him. “I hate this mattress. It’s like being trapped in a sausage casing while bouncing on a trampoline. Every time you move you almost launch me.”
"Relax, Princess. And try to keep your elbows out of my kidneys, okay?"
She gave a sharp nudge to his back. "Relax yourself. Rein in those hormones and try for celibate dreams for what’s left of tonight." Another dig with her elbow punctuated her comment.
He waited a few seconds. When he answered she heard the laughter in his voice. "Now that is even less likely than hell freezing over."
CHAPTER FOUR
Holly wakened to darkness broken by the eerie outside glow of the snow. A chill met her warm skin when Trent slid from bed. She heard the rustle of clothes as he dressed and she looked in vain for the illuminated hands of the electric clock on the bedside table.
"I can't see the clock but it can't be time to get up."
"According to my watch it's not quite four." He pulled his jacket from the bed and shrugged into it. "The power’s off and apparently so is the furnace. There's supposed to be plenty of propane left. Better stay here till I find out."
She heard mumbled curses as he bumped his way through the dark and unfamiliar house. In a few seconds, he returned to the bedroom doorway.
"The kitchen range burners and bathroom heater are still going. My guess is the furnace thermostat shut down when the electricity went off."
She reached for her clothes and slid to the side of the bed. "I'll get dressed and look for candles and flashlights. Give me a few minutes in the bathroom."
"Um, until I get the generator going, there's no water."
"None?" Still groggy from too little sleep, her mind absorbed his meaning slowly.
“Just whatever’s in the pressure tank.”
"I see. Electric water pump. So, no shower and don't flush?" She heard his sigh.
"Right. As soon as I find a flashlight, I'll tackle the generator. In the meantime, you can go back to sleep."
"It's too cold.” She didn’t add without you here. “Besides, you said the kitchen range works. If we find candles or lanterns, I may as well fix breakfast."
By the time Trent returned to the house, Holly had their meal underway and the table set. He stamped the snow from his feet then hovered near the range. With his arms crossed and hands tucked up under his armpits, he shivered and a low moan escaped his lips.
"It's solid ice now over the snow." He looked down at his legs. His jeans showed dark, wet patches. He cocked his head and smiled at her, reminding her of a small boy caught in a mischievous act.
He chuckled. "I slipped a couple of times."
She ducked her head and hoped she concealed the effect of his teasing smile and laughter on her senses. Stepping around him, she vigorously stabbed the thick slabs of ham furnished by her grandmother. Holly cleared her throat. "Did you have any luck with the generator?"
"Yeah. Bad news is it only works for the pump and the barn. Good news is that at least we’ll have cold water. I checked the animals, and everything looks okay for now. There’s plenty of propane. Soon as my hands thaw, I'll get the furnace going from its emergency manual control."
Holly flushed with the memory of him warming her hands and massaging her feet the evening before. "Go into the bathroom until you thaw. It's the warmest room in the house." She shooed him with a spatula. "I'll call you when breakfast is ready. The furnace can wait until after you've eaten."
He offered no protest, but tossed the borrowed gloves and cap on the clothes dryer before he left the room. She heard a crash.
"Ow, same damned table." More mumbled curses followed while he made his way through the darkened house. As if his diatribe were not sufficient, a glance at the kitchen table told her he’d forgotten to take a candle or the halogen lantern he’d used on his way to the well house and back.
When everything was ready, she held a candle in the doorway to shed a soft glow across the living room before she called him to breakfast.
Trent entered the kitchen and sniffed appreciatively. Her pleasure at his approval surprised Holly. She watched as he slipped the jacket from his shoulders and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair.
"Well, well. I've never had breakfast by candlelight."
"You'd better enjoy it. Grandma sent lots of ham, but these are the last eggs and bread." She passed him the toast.
"We have a source for eggs, remember?" Even in the candlelight, she saw the pleasure in his expression. "Wow. I haven't had real toast in years. This looks great." He sunk his teeth into the bread.
"You mean toasted under the oven broiler flames instead of in an electric toaster?" She hoped he skipped any comment on the crispy corners of the heavily buttered toast.
He took a bite of the toast and closed his eyes as he chewed. "This is great. Only thing better is cinnamon toast."
"Oh, yes, when the sugar and cinnamon melt in the butter and get sort of glazed?"
He looked at her with surprise and their gazes locked. For just a few seconds time ceased to exist. Such a small matter, but a kind of mutual understanding passed between them. Even through their differences, they shared similar feelings.
She flushed again at the memory of their simultaneous dreams last night. If she had not fully wakened when she did, they would have shared much more than a dream. Even the memory of the pleasure his touch evoked sent tingles zinging through her. She licked her lips and recognized the same memory in his eyes.
He placed the toast on his plate and shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah," he answered the question she had already forgotten. His eyes focused on his plate as he cut his ham. "Where’d you learn to cook?"
She reached for her juice, grateful for the cool liquid, and took a sip before she answered. "I do most of the cooking at home. My sister...my half-sister Angela helps me." Poor Angie would be stuck with all of it in Holly’s absence.
“Figured you’d have a lot of servants to do the mundane things. I remember an older woman answered the door when I called.”
“Our housekeeper, Marnie Parker, lives in. Linda and Nell come weekdays to help clean. Marnie is better at cleaning and organizing than cooking and she’s getting on in years so I prepare most meals.”
He glanced up with a frown. "What about your stepmother? Doesn't she help?"
Holly carefully controlled her voice and face. "Geneva is not exactly Suzie Homemaker. She skips breakfast and dines out whenever possible."
"And your other half-sister...sorry, don't mean to pry."
Echoing his words of the previous day, she said, “Yes, you do."
When he smiled, her heart caught in her throat. Against her will, she returned his smile. "It's okay. Marnie’s visiting her daughter in Fort Worth. Geneva and the girls went to her parents in Frisco for the weekend, but were due back Sunday. If they’d stayed at home, Angie would have cooked."
"So Angie is the oldest sister?" He shrugged his shoulder. "I spoke with your stepmother several times, but never met her daughters...um, your sisters."
Holly would bet a week's salary Geneva had made a pass at Trent at least one of those times. Her stepmother saw every good looking man as a challenge. This man definitely looked great, even in rumpled clothes and unshaven.
> Yes, Geneva would have jumped at the chance to have Trent in bed and him being ten years younger wouldn’t have fazed her. Far from it. The age difference would only have upped the ante for Geneva.
A wave of jealousy swept over her with a fury. Why would the thought of Geneva with Trent bother her so? Certainly by now she was used to her stepmother's sexual escapades. She no longer cared as long as the woman remained discreet enough to spare Angie and Jenny any embarrassment.
No, Geneva's little tricks no longer concerned her. On the other hand, the thought of Trent with another woman made her green with jealousy. That knowledge rocked her to the core. Why did she care who this man slept with? She hated him didn’t she?
Shaken, she couldn’t look at him when she answered. "Jenny’s nineteen and very like her mother in looks and temperament. Angie’s almost eighteen."
"I see. Are these girls in school?" His frown remained.
Maybe he really did see, but she doubted he realized even a part of their complicated family or their financial situation. "Jenny attends Southern Methodist University. Angie will graduate from Highland Park High this spring and start SMU in the fall."
She didn't add that Jenny's tuition was compliments of Grandpa Grayson, who was not even related to Jenny. He had sworn not to lift one finger to help Geneva, whom he despised, or contribute one penny to the upkeep of Geneva and her daughters. Only after repeated pleas from Holly had he agreed to fund her half-sisters' education.
Trent's frown disappeared to be replaced by an expression as guarded as her own. "Does either girl work?"
"Geneva prefers the girls keep their calendars clear for social events." Not that Jenny had ever asked, but Angie wanted to work after school some days and on weekends. She had even landed a job at a high-end chain store in Galleria Mall. Holly could still hear the horror in Geneva's voice.
"What will people think, my daughter working like a common shop girl? I won't have it, I tell you. Oh, no. Your job is to learn to be a good hostess, to mingle with the right people, to prepare yourself for your place in society as the wife of a suitable man."
SNOWFIRES Page 4
