by Carol Grace
He looked down at his damp, wing-tip shoes and nodded. Just then a loud, squawking voice came from the rear of the house. "Hello," the voice screamed.
Startled, Mandy jumped.
"That s just Elvis," Adam explained. "Come back and meet him."
Mandy followed Adam through the living room and down a long hall to a den. When Adam flicked on the lights, a brightly colored tropical bird in a large cage opened his enormous bill and chirped, whistled and gurgled at her.
"Love me tender," he demanded.
Adam grinned. "He likes you," he explained. And so do I, he added under his breath.
"What is it?" Mandy asked, hovering in the doorway.
"A toucan. My boss brought him back from South America a few years ago and taught him to talk by playing old Elvis Presley records for him. Don't be afraid. He likes people." Adam bent over and lit a flame to the paper, kindling and logs that had been carefully laid in the fireplace. "Elvis is the real reason I'm here and not in the North Sea," he said, watching the flames flare. "Gene had surgery last week, and I'm running the office for him. But when I call in my daily report, the first thing he asks about is his bird."
Mandy finally left the safety of the doorway and crossed the room to peer at the bird in the cage. "He's not married?"
"Elvis? No, and neither is Gene. He was, but his wife got sick of his traveling. It didn't work out. It never does."
Mandy nodded slowly, noting the bleak look in Adam's eyes before he turned to stare into the fireplace. Then he glanced at her. "I'll go change. Make yourself comfortable."
She watched him leave, then she sank into the large, soft armchair that flanked the fireplace.
What on earth am I doing here?" she asked, gazing into the bird's beady eyes. But he didn't answer. If he had, he would have told her she shouldn't have come. He would have cited the weather and the unstable condition of her feelings for Adam.
It was bad enough she'd driven over the hills in the rain to see and hear how wonderful the Yukon was, she didn't need to be reminded that marriage to an oil-drilling scientist never worked out. Unless, of course, you married Jack Larue, who was the one man willing to make sacrifices to make his marriage work.
It was a good thing she'd never known what Jack looked like. If he looked anything like Adam she'd have real reason to be depressed. There was no denying that Adam in that suit was sinfully handsome. More Leonardo DiCaprio than James Bond. The man should be sent back to the Yukon before he broke any more hearts. Not that he'd broken hers. It was just... Oh, Lord, she didn't know what was wrong with her. She had all the business she could handle and yet she still wasn't happy. She was sad, lonely, depressed and confused. First there was Jack and then there was Adam.
Both men were from the Yukon, but that was where the resemblance ended. The only other thing they had in common was this strange attraction she felt for both of them. On the other hand, it wasn't so strange. They were the only men in her life, so naturally, being isolated and all, she'd fallen for both of them. But was it natural?
Adam walked back into the room wearing old gray sweats and carrying two small cups of dark, strong coffee in his hands. She stared. So it wasn't the suit that made him so irresistible. It was just him. She hadn't seen him for a week or so and she'd forgotten how broad his shoulders were, how dark and penetrating his eyes were, as if he could see into her heart. Which she sincerely hoped he couldn't.
She certainly didn't want him to know she thought about him all the time, relived that last kiss on her patio, the touch of his hands against her sensitive skin and the slight scratch of his cheek against hers. She took a cup from his hands and managed to keep her hands steady.
"How much longer will you be here, filling in for your boss?"
Adam frowned. "Gene doesn't seem to be recuperating as fast as he should. He's been moved to a rehab center. Until he's well, I'm stuck here."
She looked around at the wood-paneled walls, at the well-stocked bookshelves, and sipped her coffee, listening to the drumming of the rain on the roof. "It’s not such a bad place to be stuck," she observed, the heat from the fire radiating outward and warming her.
Adam took the chair opposite hers. "No, I can't complain, or I shouldn't complain. But it isn't where I want to be and it’s not what I want to be doing." He ran his hand through his damp hair. "I want to get going. Get back to where I belong."
Mandy nodded. "The Yukon is a beautiful place. I understand how you feel about it now."
There was a long silence in the room. The bird was quiet, watching them silently from his perch. The fire crackled cheerfully, but outside the wind picked up and howled down the chimney. The pleasant patter of the rain turned into a loud drumming. Mandy shivered. This was crazy. It was worse than crazy. It was torture, sitting here with the world's most attractive, most unavailable man, while he dreamed of getting away from here, and from her, and she dreamed of… what?
She dreamed of being in his arms again, kissing him, tangling her hands in his thick, dark hair. But it wasn't going to happen, and she'd driven for an hour for a dose of hard, cold reality. Just what she didn't need. Or maybe she did. What she needed right now was to get out of there, fast. She set her coffee cup on the table and stood. Adam looked at her inquiringly. There was a loud crash, the sound of splintering wood and then the lights went out.
Adam jumped to his feet. "Good God, it must have been a tree. Stay here, I'll get a flashlight."
He was back in a minute, shone his light at her and took her by the hand to lead her through the darkened house and out the front door. There, halfway down the driveway, illuminated in the beam of his flashlight, was a giant oak tree, snapped off halfway up its trunk. A tangle of power lines lay underneath it. He aimed his light on the other trees that towered above the house and exhaled slowly.
"I guess we're lucky it wasn't one of those. It would have come right through the roof." He looked up as the rain ran down his face.
She pulled her hand from his and pressed her palms together. "How will I get back down the drive?" she asked, ignoring the rain that plastered her dress to her skin.
"Tomorrow I'll call the tree service and the power company. They'll have their hands full tonight."
"Tomorrow?" she asked, blinking back the raindrops that caught in her eyelashes.
"Do you have guests? Do you need to call home?"
"No, not tonight, but..." Her mind was racing. She was so desperate to get away from him she almost jumped over the log in her high-heeled shoes and ran down the road. Where she'd run to, she had no idea. There were no lights anywhere in the neighborhood.
"The lines could be live," he cautioned, as if he'd read her mind. "It’s not safe to go anywhere near them."
She nodded and turned back to the house. But not before Adam noticed the way her shoulders slumped. Was it that awful to contemplate spending the night with him in a big, beautiful house overlooking the bay? Apparently so, by the way she was dragging herself back to the house in the rain.
"There's plenty of room," he assured her. But she didn't answer. She just walked slowly in front of him as the beam of his flashlight picked up the sway of her hips under the wet, clinging fabric of her dress. And suddenly his pulse was racing. Silently they marched through the darkened house single file, Adam now leading the way with the light. They went back to the den. He wanted so badly to reach for her, to turn her around and feel the warmth of her body through that cool, wet silk dress.
"Look," he said, switching off the flashlight. "I'm sorry about this, but there's nothing we can do. We're safe, we're dry and we're warm. Or we will be dry once we change clothes."
She looked around the den and gave a little shiver. He ran his hand down her arm.
"I'll get you something to wear."
She nodded. Why didn't she say something? he wondered anxiously. Say she wasn't sorry she had to spend the night here with him, say she'd missed him just half as much as he'd missed her. Say she'd at least thought about
him dining the past week, the way he'd thought about her.
The firelight cast shadows on her face. She looked aloof, faraway, as if she'd willed herself to another place. He tossed his flashlight onto the chair.
"For God's sake, Mandy, would you say something?"
But he didn't give her a chance. Grabbing her, he pulled her close and slammed his mouth against hers in fury and frustration, almost immediately softening the kiss. He'd forgotten how sweet she tasted. From a distance, he heard her short, sharp intake of breath, felt the shock waves rock her body, and then the two of them were locked together in a wild, wet embrace.
Mandy's knees buckled and she clung to Adam for support. She was not prepared for this. Not prepared to be crushed against him, to feel the welcome heat from his body. When she'd driven over the hills in the rain she had never imagined the evening would end this way. She opened her rain-washed lips and was filled with his warmth and his desire. She wanted more. She wanted all of him. She tightened her arms around him and pressed her breasts against his chest.
He groaned and ran his hands down her back to cup her damp dress, molding her bottom with his palms. Bending down, he quickly removed her boots, then he lifted her up. He shifted her in his arms and she wound her arms around his neck. He took her to the soft, thick rug in front of the fireplace and knelt down next to her. He searched her eyes. He thought he knew, but he had to ask.
'"Tell me what you want, Mandy." He was breathing hard and so was she. Her breasts were rising and falling under the soft silk of her dress. He drew a circle around them with his fingers and felt her arch toward him.
She took his face in her hands, her palms against his temples and looked deep into his eyes. "I don't know," she murmured. "I want you, but..."
"I can't help falling in love with you," Elvis admitted from his perch in the corner.
"Shut up," Adam said grimly. "Not you," he assured Mandy, kissing the tender hollow above her collarbone.
"What I want is..." For the life of her she couldn't speak, not with Adam's lips finding every sensitive place he could reach, behind her ear, at the corners of her mouth, at the nape of her neck, until she was filled with a pounding need she couldn't deny. But first she had to explain something, something she had to tell him. She spread her hands against his chest, sliding her palms up and under the sweatshirt that covered his muscles until she heard him gasp. "I know," she murmured. "There's something I have to tell you."
"Shut up," he said softly. "You," he said, indicating her this time. And then he kissed her again, a long, slow kiss that made her feel as if she'd been drugged. What did he put in those kisses that made her want so much more?
The next time she came up for air she moved away from him and slid back on the floor, tilting her head against the seat of the overstuffed chair. She took a deep breath. "Adam," she said in a shaky voice. "I haven't been completely honest with you."
His heart stopped. He wasn't in the mood for any true confessions, the reciprocal kind, anyway. He wondered if she was finally going to confess she'd answered an ad in Yukon Man. If so, he would have to confess, too, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He reached out to smooth her damp curls with his hand, sliding the silky strands through his fingers.
"That's all right," he assured her, his voice dropping a notch.
"No, it isn't," she protested. "Because the way I've been acting is, might be... It's about Jack."
Adam groaned. Not Jack. Not again. "Jack has nothing to do with you and me."
She tugged at the hem of her dress, which had crept up to her thighs. "Yes, he does. When I told you I wasn't interested in Jack, it wasn't true. I thought I was in love with him." She took a shaky breath and hurried on. "I know I've never met him, but we wrote to each other for a long time and I really thought, I knew there was something special between us. Do you know what I mean? No, you couldn't possibly know unless it had happened to you. I mean, I told Jack things I've never told anyone else."
Adam nodded understandingly. Who could understand any better than he? He knew about her childhood; how she couldn't refuse a dare; how she'd felt jealous of Laurie.
"It sounds crazy," she continued, "but we were so close, so intimate, without ever even having seen a picture of each other, that I really believed…"
"He'd come and find you someday and you'd live happily ever after," Adam finished, feeling a draft of cold air grip his heart. How could he have done this to her? Make her fall in love with someone who didn't exist?
Mandy smiled sadly. "How did you know? But now I feel so naive, so stupid for believing what I did. It’s taken me a while to get over it." She wrapped her arms around her waist, as if she could protect herself from getting hurt again.
Adam clenched his teeth. He hated himself for his part in this mess. Why had he ever agreed to answer her letters? Why had he continued past the point of no return? Curiosity pure and simple. The desire to help Jack was just part of it, but mostly he'd wanted to see what Mandy was like to satisfy his own desire. He had to know if she was anything like her letters. The problem was, she was better. Much better.
She sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that the reason I came here tonight, coming on to you the way I have." She paused. "Well, it’s only because I'm on the rebound."
"Rebound from Jack?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes, it’s obvious to me now," she said, gazing into the dying embers in the fireplace. "I've been jumpy, irritable and on edge ever since I found out, and I'm not behaving very rationally."
Adam nodded slowly, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach growing deeper. "And that's where I come in."
She reached for his hand. "I'm sorry. But it isn't fair to you to go on like this. To lead you on any more than I already have."
"So you think you're taking advantage of me?" he said.
She nodded slowly. "I'm afraid so."
"So you don't think," he said, bracing himself with his arms at his sides on the floor, "that I'd have a chance next to Jack."
"It’s like comparing apples and oranges. You're totally different."
That slime. That rotten, no-good, scumbag Jack. How could be have dumped her like that without even seeing her first? Why wasn't he the one who was here with her tonight? On the other hand, if he were, Adam wouldn't have had this last chance to see Mandy. His eyes lingered where the neckline of her dress had slipped to one side and a lacy bra only partially covered her full breasts.
If it weren't for Jack, he'd be lifting her damp dress over her head, unhooking that lacy bra and burying his face in the warmth of her body. The heat rushed to his head and he pulled himself to a standing position, gripping the mantel for support. Once again Jack had stepped between himself and Mandy as surely as if he were there in person. It would have been kinder of Jack to tell her he'd drowned in the Yukon River than to tell her he wanted to marry someone else. The man had no sense of propriety, no understanding of women.
Adam looked down at Mandy's hair gleaming in the firelight. "Now that we've cleared the air," be said, ignoring the fact that while she'd cleared the air, he hadn't, "we can go back to normal."
"Separately," she added. She looked up and met his gaze. "You're going up North and I'm going back home. As soon as I can get down the driveway." She brushed her palms together and got to her feet as if she'd just solved all her problems, and he was forced to let the subject drop.
Adam picked up his flashlight, muttered, "Good night, Elvis," and led the way upstairs to one of the spare bedrooms with a connecting bath. Meanwhile his brain was spinning, trying to follow Mandy's crazy logic. One thing be knew for sure. Mandy didn't deserve to be hurt again, and there was no happy ending at the end of this story. Only happy memories. Is that what he'd have when he got to the North Sea, happy memories of Mandy confessing her love for Jack? Did that really classify as a happy memory? Adam didn't think so.
"I'll leave the flashlight for you," he said, opening the door to the guest room for her. "And I'll get y
ou some clothes. The bathroom's inside. Get yourself a hot bath and warm up."
He turned quickly before the image of Mandy in her bath, the soap bubbles cascading over her shoulders, down her breasts and onto her stomach, prevented him from standing upright.
He was back in a few minutes. He knocked and she opened the door, barefoot but still in her wet dress. He gave her a stack of men's clothing, sweats, a thick, terry-cloth robe, socks and moccasins. He said good-night, but she said nothing.
When the door closed behind him, Mandy stood there for a moment in the dark, her outstretched arms piled high with clothes as if she were staying for a week. Then she set them down on the dresser and stumbled into the bathroom, where she'd left the flashlight. She took her dress off and then her lacy bra and panties and slid into the hot tub. It was good to get off the treadmill. Adam did that to her. He did other things, too, like making her feel like a bowl of Jello, all cool and sleek and quivery inside.
Now that she'd figured it out, she felt better. She was on the rebound, pure and simple. Nothing else made sense. Certainly not being in love with two men at the same time, one of whom she'd never met, the other she knew nothing about.
Nothing? Not even the way he kissed with his whole soul, the way he felt about women and marriage, the way he cooked, the way he smiled at her, the way he looked in a suit? All superficial, she reminded herself. Whereas her knowledge of Jack was deep and profound, based on months of correspondence, of confiding in each other. But now Jack's depth and understanding wee lost to some other woman.
A tear slid down Mandy's cheek. She sank down into the tub until the water was lapping at her chin. It was more than anyone could take, being dumped twice in a lifetime. It was time she got the message. She just wasn't meant to find anyone for a long-term relationship. Take Adam. He was attracted to her, but as soon as he could, he was going to get out of her life.
But this time she was going to get out first. After tomorrow morning, she'd never see him again. No more goodbyes. No more last meetings, last meals, last kisses. This was it. Why should she set herself up for another letdown? She wouldn't.
