Wild and Wonderful

by Janet Dailey

  "I know. It's wonderful."

  "You've changed, too, Glenna." His gaze narrowed slightly, as if puzzling over the difference.

  "Me?" She stiffened a little, sensitive to his scrutiny, not certain what his probing gaze might discover.

  "Yes. I don't know quite what it is, but you don't seem the same. It's as if you had grown up overnight. Which is crazy," he mocked at his own statement, "because you were an adult before. You look more like a woman now."

  She moved away from the fireplace to escape his astute study of her. "I'll bet you've simply forgotten what I look like in the four days since you've seen me," Glenna chided him, trying to joke her way out of the situation. "You just don't want to admit it."

  Bruce laughed his denial. "I'm not likely to forget what you look like." Pushing away from the fireplace, he leisurely followed her. "I know what it is." The difference dawned on him slowly. "You look vulnerable now. Before you always seemed so confident and self-assured, capable of tackling anything."

  "That's silly." Her laugh of protest was brittle.

  "No, it isn't. All of this has hit you harder than it has your father," he reasoned. "That's why you look lost, and a little afraid, isn't it?"

  "No—" Then Glenna realized he was offering her a logical excuse. She checked her denial to hug her arms around her waist in an unconscious gesture of self-protection. "Maybe it has," she lied.

  His hands gripped her shoulders to turn her around. "You know I'll help in any way I can. You don't have to face this thing alone. I'll be with you."

  When he bent to kiss her Glenna turned her head aside and his mouth encountered the coolness of her cheek instead. "Don't, Bruce." Her voice was flat as his caresses left her cold. There was no need to experiment to see how his kiss would compare with Jett's. It couldn't. Glenna stood rigid within his hold, not fighting him as she stared to the side.

  "What have I done, Glenna?" He was irritated and bewildered by her rejection. "Anytime I get close to you anymore you pull away from me."

  "It isn't you. It's me," she replied because it wasn't fair to let him wonder if he had done something to upset her.

  Sighing heavily he let his arms drop to his side. "Do you want me to leave? I don't have to stay to dinner."

  Glenna lifted her head to look at him. "I'd like your company tonight, Bruce." She tried to tactfully make him understand her view of their relationship.

  "My company but not my kisses." He read between the lines.

  "I'm sorry, but yes," she admitted her meaning. Her expression remained composed, gentle but firm.

  "I guess we've got that clear." His mouth tightened grimly as he turned away and walked to an armchair. "Why don't you tell me about your weekend, then?"

  "There isn't much to tell." Glenna wished he'd chosen a less disturbing topic—like the weather. "The Greenbrier is a fabulous place, but it wasn't exactly a pleasure trip."

  "What was Coulson like?" His choice of subject went from bad to worse.

  "Just about what you would expect—al-though he's difficult to describe." Which he wasn't. Black hair and eyes, hard compelling features, with a latent sexuality about him that awakened hers. "He's intelligent and self-assured. He isn't one to suffer fools gladly." She remembered that he had walked in the woods and watched the sunrise. "He has an appreciation for the serenity and beauty of nature."

  "How was he to deal with?"

  A wry smile broke around the edges of her mouth as she remembered his afternoon meeting with her father. "Jett is…" Glenna paused, realizing how easily his name had slipped from her, but there was no way to hide it. "A better poker player than my father."

  "Jett. You were on a first-name basis with him?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

  "We saw him socially, as well. I called him Jett. He called dad Orin." Glenna shrugged and tried to make it appear an insignificant item. "There's nothing special about that."

  "He's a bachelor, isn't he? Good-looking as I recall." His gaze searched her face.

  "Yes." She knew she wasn't doing a very good job of appearing indifferent, but just thinking of Jett made her remember things that made her blood run warm.

  "I suppose he flirted with you," he accused, jealousy simmering in his eyes.

  "What does it matter?" Glenna had to take a stand somewhere or Bruce would continue to ask personal questions that she'd rather not answer. "It isn't any of your business, Bruce."

  Taking a deep breath, he released it in a long sigh. "Things are changing too fast for me to keep up with."

  The awkward moment following his comment was filled by the sound of footsteps in the foyer. Glenna recognized her father's tread and glanced toward the study door.

  "Hannah sent me to tell you dinner is ready," he announced from the doorway. "The condemned are going to eat a hearty meal tonight. I came in through the kitchen and I think she was under the impression the local boy scout troupe was coming to dinner tonight. I hope you brought your appetite with you, Bruce."

  The sandy-haired man was slow to respond. Glenna was relieved when she saw him fix a smile on his face. "When Hannah is cooking I always bring my appetite, Orin." Standing, he waited politely for Glenna to pass and followed her to the dining room where the table was set.

  "What kind of shape were your tools in, dad?" She sat in her customary chair on her father's right while Bruce took the one opposite her.

  "They are dirty and need oiling, but they are in good shape considering how long it's been since they were used last," he declared with a touch of complacency. "I'm going to enjoy puttering around out there again."

  "Make sure you don't get overtired," she cautioned.

  "I won't," he promised as the housekeeper entered the dining room carrying a green salad and four wooden bowls on a tray. Her father shifted closer to Glenna so he wouldn't be in Hannah's way as she lowered it to the table. "Glenna, do you remember where we stored your dollhouse? Was it in the attic or that back bedroom?"

  "That does it!" Hannah dropped the tray on the table and whirled away. "I'm calling the doctor."

  "Why?" Glenna was the first to recover "Hannah, what's wrong?"

  The housekeeper paused near the kitchen door to impatiently explain. "First he comes with a lot of crazy talk about making moonshine. Now he's asking about dollhouses. He's going through his second childhood. That's what it is."

  Laughter began slowly, then gathered force. Finally Orin managed to catch his breath and explained his plans to the housekeeper.

  Chapter Ten

  THE RADIO was turned on full blast, which was the only way Hannah could hear it above the vacuum cleaner. The racket was getting on Glenna's nerves. "Be patient," she told herself. Hannah was almost finished cleaning the living room.

  Stretching, Glenna ran the long-handled dust mop around the top of the walls where the cobwebs invariably gathered. A faded blue bandanna was tied around her head to protect her auburn hair from the dust. A plaid shirt and brushed-denim jeans made up the rest of her work clothes.

  It seemed strange to see the study empty of furniture and the fireplace mantle bare. The last load of their belongings was stacked in the foyer, waiting for her father to return with Bruce and one of his friends to take it to their new and smaller home.

  Everything else had been sold. The larger items had been sold individually through advertisements in the paper. Others had been included in a garage sale. The items that were left had been taken to an auction and sold.

  So she and Hannah were busy cleaning so the new owners of the house could move in this coming weekend. And Hannah liked to listen to the radio while she cleaned. Between the radio and vacuum cleaner, Glenna could barely hear herself think.

  "Glory be! Glenna!" Hannah shouted from the living room. "Come in here!"

  The strident summons sent Glenna racing to the living room, certain some disaster had occurred. From the doorway everything appeared all right. The housekeeper was over by the window with the vacuum cleaner and the portable radio was blar
ing on the floor near Glenna's feet.

  "What is it?" Glenna shouted. Hannah answered her. At least Glenna saw her mouth moving and heard pieces of words above the din of the radio and the vacuum cleaner, but not enough for it to make sense. Losing her patience she demanded, "Will you turn something off? I can't hear you."

  As she reached down to switch off the radio, the housekeeper turned off the vacuum cleaner. The sudden silence was heavenly to Glenna. She could even hear herself sigh.

  "There's a helicopter out there in that cleared patch of field by the driveway," Hannah announced and motioned for Glenna to come to the window and see.

  "A helicopter?" She took a step toward the window.

  "It's mine." A man's voice spoke behind her. Not any man's voice, but Jett's.

  Glenna pivoted to find him standing inside the opened front door. A pair of mirror-dark sunglasses hid his eyes from her, but there was no mistaking him. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up the length of the cuffs and he was wearing dark slacks. His coal-black hair was windblown into a careless order.

  After the initial shock was over, the blood rushed through her veins. Two months had not dimmed her memory of him nor lessened the impact he made on her. The longing to erase that one night when she had lost his respect gnawed at her like a cancer.

  "I knocked, but with all the noise no one heard me," he explained.

  "I'm sorry." Glenna found her voice, thin though it was. "But as you can see, we were busy cleaning." She loosened her grip on the dust mop. It moved slightly as if to illustrate her explanation.

  Hannah came forward to draw attention to her presence, which had been virtually ignored by both Glenna and Jett. She stopped beside Glenna to study the man the helicopter had brought.

  "Hannah, this is Jett Coulson…of Coulson Mining." She added the last in case the housekeeper didn't immediately make the connection. "Hannah Burns is…has been…our housekeeper for years."

  After today it would be the past tense. Hannah was starting a new job as a restaurant cook, which Glenna's father thought was appropriate since she was inclined to cook for large numbers.

  The introduction was acknowledged by twin nods. Hannah was plainly curious, eyeing him warily while she tried to decide what he wanted. The mirrored sunglasses made Jett's reaction even more unreadable.

  "Was your helicopter forced down?" What a cruel twist fate had made if he had reentered her life by accident.

  "No. We landed quite safely," he replied in lazy assurance.

  "Why are you here?" Glenna felt herself becoming nervous, crazy little quivers running over her skin.

  "I came to see you." It was a simple statement.

  But Glenna made it quite complicated because she didn't know if it was "you" in the singular or the plural. "My father should be back shortly."

  "I said—" Jett paused to take off his sunglasses and slide them in the pocket of his shirt, turning his dark eyes fully on her "—that I came to see you."

  She caught her breath, not certain what he meant by that, or why. Her poise was holding, but it was becoming brittle. She lifted her chin a little higher, needing the pride that she had cast aside the night she'd gone to him.

  "What is it you want?" she asked smoothly.

  "I want to talk to you." The emphasis implied he wanted a private discussion alone with her.

  Glenna darted a glance at the housekeeper who had unwittingly provided her with the moral support of her presence. No one but her father knew of that night. If that's what Jett wished to discuss, she had no choice but to send Hannah away.

  "Why don't you finish packing those boxes in the kitchen, Hannah?" she asked, knowing full well there was nothing in the kitchen to be packed. Before Hannah could remind her of that, she silenced her with a look.

  With a sniff of disapproval Hannah turned on her heel and stalked to the kitchen. Her gaze wavered when she tried to meet Jett's again. His was moving over her, making Glenna conscious of her appearance. Her hand reached up to remove the bandanna from her head. She combed her fingers through the weight of her hair, raking the rich chestnut curls as she turned aside.

  "You said you wanted to talk to me," she reminded him.

  "Coulson Mining has negotiated a contract to operate the Reynolds Mine. I wanted to tell you before you heard it from some other source."

  "Congratulations. You got the mine after all!" Glenna hadn't said it with bitterness, but the connotation was there just the same.

  "I hoped you wouldn't resent it." The grimness of resignation laced his voice, drawing her glance to the quiet study of his eyes.

  "I can't see that it matters how I feel about it." She lifted her shoulders in an uncaring shrug.

  "It matters," Jett said with calm insistence. "This contract is business."

  "I never thought for a minute that it was anything else," Glenna replied. "You explained quite clearly two months ago that it would be more economical for you to obtain the mine after dad lost it. This management agreement certainly proves it."

  His hand caught her arm, holding her but not turning her. "After all this time, don't you understand yet?" There was an urgency to his low demand. Heat spread from his hand through her system, scorching nerves that had not fully healed from the last time. "I did what I had to do, Glenna."

  Without making it look too obvious that she needed to escape his touch, she extricated her arm from beneath his hand. "The best thing that happened to us was when you turned down my father's proposal for a merger. We don't hold your decision against you, Jett.'

  "Don't you?" His tone was skeptical.

  "That's difficult to believe, isn't it?" She faced him, summoning all her pride and composure. From somewhere Glenna found a faint smile. "You should see my father now that he's free from the burden of the mine. He'll be here shortly. We've sold this house to move into a smaller place."

  He glanced around the room, emptied of furniture and all signs of habitation. There was a rigid line to his jaw. "You said you would lose your home."

  "It's too big, and the upkeep was too high, anyway." She repeated her father's statement concerning the loss.

  "What are you going to do?" His gaze was back to her, boring and intense.

  "I have a job at a printing company. Naturally I'll keep on writing in my spare time." The last thing Glenna wanted was his pity so she was quick to paint an attractive picture of their new life. "Dad is going to have a workshop where he can make toys—dollhouses, rocking horses and the like."

  "You don't appear to have a problem in the world," Jett observed dryly.

  "We have problems, but we're managing very well," Glenna replied. "The situation didn't turn out to be the disaster we thought it would be."

  "So you no longer need or want my help?" It was a challenging statement that Glenna mentally shied from because she needed and wanted a lot of things, from him, but his help wasn't one of them.

  "As I told you, we're getting along just fine." Which she had been up to this moment.

  "What if I said your father could have his same position at the mine again, with fewer responsibilities?" He leaned a hand against the inner door frame, his dark head tipped to one side.

  "I don't think he'd be interested, but you'd have to ask him." Her tension was building under the strain of his nearness. She could feel the threads of control threatening to snap. "I'm sure he would appreciate the gesture, though."

  "It isn't a gesture. It's a serious offer." His reply was curt although his expression remained steadily impassive. "It wasn't his lack of skill or competence as a manager that shut down the mine, but a series of outside influences that were beyond his control. He knows the miners, the working conditions, and the potential of the mine. We both can benefit from his experience and knowledge."

  "I know you never do anything out of the goodness of your heart." Irritation crept into her reply because Jett always seemed to gain something from whatever he did.

  "Don't I?"

  The mask dropped
from his features, but the flaring anger was merely an offshoot of the smoldering intensity of his gaze. Glenna started to turn away from its desirous message. His hands snaked out to stop her and force her to face him.

  "Have you forgotten that I let you go when I could have made love to you?" Jett demanded. "Don't you remember that night? You were willing. I could have taken you but I didn't because I couldn't let you go on believing that I would help

  your father in return for the pleasure of your body…a body that I wanted so desperately." His voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. "If that wasn't the right thing to do—the good thing—what was? Was I wrong to let you go?"

  "No." With her head turned away from him, she stared sightlessly at a bare corner of the room. The blood was thundering in her ears and her hands rested lightly against his middle, ready to stiffen if he tried to pull her closer. "I don't want to talk about that night. I want to forget it."

  "I haven't been able to forget it any more than you have." His hand tunneled under her hair and lifted aside its weight to expose the curve of her neck. He bent his head to run his mouth along it, reexploring old territory with familiar ease. "I have dreams about it at night," Jett murmured with his lips moving against her skin and his breath caressing sensitive areas.

  Glenna closed her eyes to try to shut out the wild sensations licking through her veins, but it only started her head spinning. She tried to interfere with his nuzzling by turning her head into him and lifting a shoulder to deny him access to her neck. The effectiveness of her action was negated when Jett transferred his attention to the edge of her cheekbone near her temple.

  "In my dreams my mind became filled with the perfume of your body." Jett continued talking against her skin, leaving male-rough kisses to punctuate his sentences. "I could feel the roundness of your breasts in my hands and hear the sweet seduction of your voice whispering in my ear. I'd wake up hungry for the taste of your lips."