Two Alone

by Sandra Brown

  He tilted her head back and pierced her with a silvery-gray stare. “I don’t deserve or want a spotlight now, either. I did what was necessary to save our lives. Any man would have.”

  She touched his mustache lovingly. “Not any man, Cooper.”

  He shrugged away the compliment. “I’ve had more experience at surviving than most, that’s all.”

  “You just won’t take the credit you deserve, will you?”

  “Is that what you want, Rusty? Credit for surviving?”

  She thought of her father. She would have enjoyed hearing a few words of praise for her bravery. Instead he had talked about Jeff’s Boy Scout escapade and told her how well her brother had reacted to a potentially fatal situation. Comparing her to Jeff hadn’t been malicious on her father’s part. He hadn’t meant to point out how she fell short of Jeff’s example. But that’s what it had amounted to. What would it take, she wondered, to win her father’s approval?

  But for some reason, winning his approval didn’t seem as important as it once had been. In fact, it didn’t seem important at all. She was far more interested in what Cooper thought of her.

  “I don’t want credit, Cooper. I want...” She stopped short of saying “you.” Instead, she laid her cheek against his chest. “Why didn’t you come after me? Don’t you want me anymore?”

  He laid his hand over her breast and stroked it with his fingertips. “Yes, I want you.” The need that made his voice sound like tearing cloth wasn’t strictly physical.

  Rusty perceived the depth of his need because she felt it too. It came out of an emptiness that gnawed at her when he wasn’t there. It caused her own imploring inflection. “Then why?”

  “I didn’t follow you last night because I wanted to speed up the inevitable.”

  “The inevitable?”

  “Rusty,” he whispered, “this sexual dependency we feel for each other is textbook normal. It’s common among people who have survived a crisis together. Even hostages and kidnap victims sometimes begin to feel an unnatural affection for their captors.”

  “I know all that. The Stockholm syndrome. But this is different.”

  “Is it?” His brows lowered skeptically. “A child loves whoever feeds him. Even a wild animal becomes friendly with someone who leaves food out for it. I took care of you. It was only human nature that you attach more significance—”

  Suddenly and angrily, she pushed him away. Her hair was a vibrant halo of indignation, her eyes bright with challenge. “Don’t you dare reduce what happened between us with psychological patter. It’s crap. What I feel for you is real.”

  “I never said it wasn’t real.” Her feistiness excited him. He liked her best when she was defiant. He yanked her against him. “We’ve always had this going for us.” He cupped her breast again and impertinently swept his thumb across the tip.

  She wilted, murmuring a weak “Don’t,” which he disregarded. He continued to fondle her. Her eyes slid shut.

  “We get close. I get hard. You get creamy. Every damned time. It happened the first time we laid eyes on each other in the airplane. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “I wanted you then, before we ever left the ground.”

  “But you didn’t even smile, or speak to me, or encourage me to speak to you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why?” She couldn’t take any more of his caresses and stay sensible. She moved his hand aside. “Tell me why.”

  “Because I guessed then what I know for fact now: we live worlds apart. And I’m not referring to geography.”

  “I know what you’re talking about. You think I’m silly and superficial, like those friends of mine you just met. I’m not!”

  She laid her hands on his forearms and appealed to him earnestly. “They irritated me, too. Do you know why? Because I saw myself—the way I used to be. I was judging them just as you did me when we first met.

  “But please be tolerant toward them. Toward me. This is Beverly Hills. Nothing is real. There are areas of this city I couldn’t relate to. The Gawrylows’ cabin was beyond my realm of comprehension. But I’m changed. I really am. I’m not like them anymore.”

  “You never were, Rusty. I thought so. I know better now.” He framed her face between his hands. “But that’s the life you know. It’s the crowd you run with. I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Wouldn’t even want to try. And you wouldn’t belong in my life.”

  Hurt by the painful truth of what he was saying, she reacted with anger and threw off his hands. “Your life! What life? Shut away from the rest of the world? Alone and lonely? Using bitterness like an armor? You call that a life? You’re right, Cooper. I couldn’t live like that. The chip on my shoulder would be too heavy to bear.”

  His lower lip narrowed to a thin, harsh line beneath his mustache. She knew she’d hit home, but there was no victory in it.

  “So there you have it,” he said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. In bed we’re great, but we’d never make a life together.”

  “Because you’re too damned stubborn to try! Have you even considered a compromise?”

  “No. I don’t want any part of this scene.” He spread his hands wide to encompass the luxurious room and all that lay beyond the wide window.

  Rusty aimed an accusing finger at him. “You’re a snob.”

  “A snob?”

  “Yes, a snob. You snub society because you feel superior to the masses. Superior and righteous because of the war and your imprisonment. Scornful because you see all that’s wrong with the world. Locked up there on your solitary mountain, you play God by looking down on all of us who have the guts to tolerate each other despite our human failings.”

  “It’s not like that,” he ground out.

  “Isn’t it? Aren’t you just a trifle self-righteous and judgmental? If there’s so much wrong with our world, if you ridicule it that much, why don’t you do something to change it? What are you accomplishing by withdrawing from it? Society didn’t shun you. You shunned it.”

  “I didn’t leave her until she—”

  “Her?”

  Cooper’s face cleared of all emotion and became as wooden and smooth as a mask. The light in his eyes flickered out. They became hard and implacable.

  Shocked, Rusty laid a hand against her pounding heart. A woman was at the source of Cooper’s cynicism. Who? When? A hundred questions raced through her mind. She wanted to ask all of them, but for the time being she was occupied only with enduring his icy, hostile stare. He was furious with himself and with her. She had goaded him into resurrecting something he had wanted to keep dead and buried.

  Her overactive heart pumped jealousy through her system as rich and red as her blood. Some woman had wielded enough influence over Cooper to alter the course of his life. He might have been a happy-go-lucky chap before this unnamed she-wolf got her claws into him. For his bitterness to be this lasting, she must have been some woman. He was still feeling her influence. Had he loved her that much? Rusty asked herself dismally.

  A man like Cooper Landry wouldn’t go long without having a woman. But Rusty had imagined his affairs to be fleeting, physical gratification and little else. It had never occurred to her that he’d been seriously involved with someone. But he had been, and her departure from his life had been wrenching and painful.

  “Who was she?”

  “Forget it.”

  “Did you meet her before you went to Vietnam?”

  “Drop it, Rusty.”

  “Did she marry someone else while you were a prisoner?”

  “I said to forget it.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “Look, she was good in the sack, but not as hot as you, okay? Is that what you’re itching to know—how the two of you compare? Well, let’s see. She wasn’t a redhead, so she lacked your fiery spirit. She had a great body, but it didn’t come close to yours.”

  “Stop it!”

  “Her breasts were fuller, but no
more responsive. Nipples? Larger and darker. Thighs? Hers were just as smooth, but not nearly as strong as yours.” He stared at the spot where hers came together. “Yours can squeeze the life out of a man.”

  She covered her mouth to trap a sob of anguish and outrage. Her breath was coming as hard and fast as his. They glared at each other with an animosity as fierce as the passion they’d shared while making love.

  It was into that seething atmosphere that Bill Carlson made his inopportune entrance. “Rusty?”

  She jumped at her father’s voice. “Father!” His name came out as a gusty exhalation. “Come...good morning. This...” She discovered that her mouth was dry and the hand she raised to gesture toward Cooper was trembling. “This is Cooper Landry.”

  “Ah, Mr. Landry.” Carlson extended his hand. Cooper shook it. He did so firmly, but with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm and a great deal of dislike. “I’ve had several people trying to track you down.” Cooper offered no explanations as to his whereabouts overnight, so Carlson blustered on. “I wanted to thank you for saving my daughter’s life.”

  “No thanks is necessary.”

  “Of course it is. She means the world to me. The way she tells it, you meant the difference between her life and death. In fact she’s the one who urged me to locate you last night.”

  Cooper glanced down at Rusty, then back at Carlson, who was reaching into the breast pocket of his suit coat. He withdrew a white envelope. “Rusty wanted to say thank you in a special way.”

  He handed the envelope to Cooper. Cooper opened it and glanced inside. He stared at the contents for a long moment before lifting his eyes to Rusty. They were frigid with contempt. One corner of his mustache curled into a nasty smile. Then, in one vicious motion, he ripped the envelope and the cashier’s check inside in half. He tossed the two halves into the valley of her thighs.

  “Thanks all the same, Miss Carlson, but on our last night together I was paid in full for my services.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Turning back to his daughter after watching Cooper storm from the room, Carlson said, “What an unpleasant individual.”

  “Father, how could you have offered him money?” Rusty cried in dismay.

  “I thought you wanted and expected me to.”

  “Whatever gave you that impression? Cooper...Mr. Landry... He is a proud man. Do you think he saved my life for profit?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s an unlikeable character from what I’ve heard of him.”

  “You asked around?”

  “Certainly. As soon as he was identified as the man with you when you were rescued. Being marooned with him couldn’t have been easy for you.”

  “We had our differences,” Rusty replied with a rueful smile. “But he could have deserted me and saved himself at any time.”

  “He wasn’t about to. Not when there might be a reward for saving you.”

  “He didn’t know that.”

  “He’s clever. He deduced that I’d spare no expense to rescue you if you were still alive. Maybe he was offended by the amount.” He picked up the ripped check and studied it. “I thought it was a generous reward, but maybe he’s greedier than I suspected.”

  Rusty closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto the pillows in defeat. “Father, he doesn’t want your money. He’s all too glad to be rid of me.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” Carlson sat down on the edge of her bed. “However, it’s unfortunate that we can’t capitalize on your mishap.”

  Her eyes came open again. “‘Capitalize’? What in the world are you talking about?”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions until you’ve heard me out.” She’d already jumped to several conclusions, none of which were to her liking. “You’re not referring to a movie are you?” When her friend had mentioned the idea, she’d been appalled.

  Carlson patted her hand. “Nothing so crass, my dear. We’ve got more style than that.”

  “Then, what?”

  “One of your problems has always been your lack of vision, Rusty.” Affectionately, he cuffed her on the chin. “Your brother would have immediately seen the enterprising possibilities this situation has opened up to us.”

  As usual, the comparison to her brother left her feeling inferior. “Like what?”

  Patiently Carlson explained. “You’ve made a name for yourself in real estate. And not by riding my coattails, either. I might have placed a few opportunities in your path, but you took advantage of them.”

  “Thank you, but what is this leading to, Father?”

  “In your own right, you’re something of a celebrity in this town.” She shook her head scoffingly. “I mean it. Your name is well-known in important circles. And in recent days your name and picture have appeared in newspapers and on television. You’ve been made into a sort of folk heroine. That kind of free publicity is as good as money in the bank. I propose that we use this disaster to our advantage.”

  On the verge of panic, Rusty wet her lips. “You mean promote the fact that I survived an airplane crash to generate business?”

  “What could it hurt?”

  “You must be joking!” He wasn’t. There was nothing in either his expression or demeanor to indicate that he was only fooling. She bowed her head, shaking it. “No, Father. Absolutely not. The idea doesn’t appeal to me at all.”

  “Don’t say no right away,” he said patronizingly. “I’ll get our advertising agency to work up a few ideas. I promise not to move on any of them until you’ve been consulted and I have your approval.”

  He was suddenly a stranger to her. The voice, the face, the polished manner—all were familiar. But she didn’t really know the heart and soul of the man behind the veneer. She didn’t know him at all.

  “I’ll never approve. That plane crash killed five people. Five men, Father. I met their families—their grieving widows and children and parents. I talked to them. I offered them my heartfelt condolences. To turn their misfortune to my own advantage—” she shuddered with repugnance “—no, Father. That’s something I can’t do.”

  Bill Carlson pulled on his lower lip, as he always did when he was deep in thought. “Very well. For the time being, we’ll table that idea. But another has occurred to me.”

  He pressed both her hands between his. Rusty got the distinct impression that she was being restrained as a precautionary measure, as if what he was about to suggest would precipitate a fit.

  “As I’ve told you, I had Mr. Landry thoroughly checked out yesterday. He owns a large ranch in a beautiful area of the Sierras.”

  “So he’s said.”

  “No one has developed the land around it.”

  “That’s the beauty of it. The region has remained virtually untouched. I fail to see what that has to do with us.”

  “Rusty, what’s the matter with you?” he asked teasingly. “Have you become a conservationist after two weeks in the woods? You’re not going to circulate petitions accusing builders of raping the land every time a new tract of homes goes up, are you?”

  “Of course not, Father.” His teasing bordered on criticism. There was a trace of reproach behind his smile. Rusty didn’t want to disappoint him, but she hastened to eliminate any ideas he was nursing regarding Cooper and enterprise. “I hope you aren’t considering any commercial development in Mr. Landry’s part of the state. I can promise you, he wouldn’t welcome it. In fact he’d fight you.”

  “Are you sure? How does the idea of a partnership strike you?”

  She stared at him incredulously. “A partnership between Cooper and me?”

  Carlson nodded. “He’s a war veteran. That’s very promotable. You survived a plane crash together and endured unbelievable hardships in the Canadian wilds before you were rescued. That, too, has high drama and marketability. The buying public will eat it up.”

  Everyone, even her own father, seemed to regard the plane crash and the life-threatening experiences following it as a grand adventure, a melodrama starr
ing Cooper and herself in the principal roles—The African Queen set in a different time and locale.

  Carlson was too caught up in his plans to notice Rusty’s negative reaction to them. “I could make a few calls and by dark today put together a group of investors who would love to build condos in that area. There’s a ski lift at this Rogers Gap, but it’s ill-managed. We’d modernize and improve that and build around it.

  “We’d bring Landry into it, of course. That would smooth the way with the other locals. He’s not a mixer, but my investigators reported back that he wields a lot of influence. His name means something up there. Once the condos are under construction, you could start selling them. We’d all stand to make millions.”

  Her objections to his proposal were too many to enumerate, so she didn’t even try. She had to shoot down the idea before it even took off. “Father, in case you didn’t get the message a minute ago, Mr. Landry isn’t interested in making money.” She picked up the two halves of the check and shook them in front of his face as a reminder. “Making money off a real-estate venture will be anathema to him. He loves that country up there. He wants it left alone, kept the way it is, unspoiled by land developers. He loves the way nature developed it.”

  “He might pay lip service to that Walden Pond philosophy,” her father remarked skeptically. “But every man has his price, Rusty.”

  “Not Cooper Landry.”

  Carlson stroked his daughter’s cheek. “Your naivete is endearing.”

  The twinkle in his eyes was familiar and alarming. It indicated that he was on the scent of a Big Deal. In a community of capitalist sharks, her father was among those with the most deadly jaws. She grasped his hand and squeezed it hard. “Promise me, promise, that you won’t do this. You don’t know him.”