by Jolie Cain
Abby turned and caught her breath. The view was breathtaking, and she spent several moments just soaking it in. No wonder Mr. Cole didn't mind the near-inaccessibility of his home. Almost anything would be worth waking up to this view every morning.
Bear was sniffing around the cabin, and Abby called him to her before knocking on the front door. After waiting for several minutes with no response, she tried the doorknob. It opened easily beneath her hand. Walking into the cabin, she scanned the sparsely furnished room.
"Mr. Cole? Mr. Cole, are you there? It's Abby Montgomery.” No response. Abby shrugged and looked down at Bear. “Looks like he's not in here, sweetheart. Maybe he's out back."
She walked through the living room and the adjoining kitchen and pushed open the back door. As Abby stepped outside, she looked around. A huge deck ran the length of the cabin, with a gas grill and picnic table off to one side. Scattered around were an old-fashioned glider and a few Adirondack chairs. Some trees in the yard held white blossoms, and she wondered if they were dogwood.
Abby took in the view from this side of the cabin as well and wasn't disappointed. The yard sloped down and to the right, where a small pond lay nestled amongst a stand of trees. As she watched, she saw a fish jump at a dragonfly that flew too close to the surface. An old stump with an axe embedded in it was at the opposite side of the yard near a small shed, but there was no sign of the man she was looking for.
"Well, rats. I wonder where he is. Beau said that he'd be expecting us.” She turned and went back inside. “Hmmm. Bear, do you suppose Mr. Cole would mind if I made myself a cup of coffee? No? Me either.” She searched through the cabinets and found what she needed. A moment later, a pot of coffee was brewing, and Abby was trying to hold back a yawn. “Goodness. I guess that's what I get for leaving so early this morning."
She shook her head at her own stupidity and poured herself a cup as soon as it was ready. Propping against the counter, she let her mind drift back over the conversation she'd had with Beau when he had told her about this place. As usual, she had been bemoaning the fact that she couldn't work at home. There were constant interruptions that were affecting her ability to concentrate on her novel. Not to mention her worries about her former assistant who, for some strange reason, had become convinced that they were more than just employer and employee. He'd not done anything very bad but had spooked Abby. The day she'd fired him had not been a pretty scene.
Scotty had accused Abby of betraying him with other men. Of “whoring herself out” just because she'd gone on a couple of casual dates. Stunned and off balance, Abby had tried to calm him down, to remind him that they were nothing more than writer and assistant, that she considered him a friend, but that was all. He had gotten even more irrational, asking her why she would say such a thing after all they had meant to each other. That she was just like every other woman and couldn't be trusted. The argument and recriminations had grown more and more heated until Abby had finally ordered him to leave. When he had slammed out of the apartment, Abby was thankful. Despite the fact that he hadn't laid a hand on her, on some primitive level she had been afraid that he might.
That night she left a message on his answering machine saying that she thought it best that he find other employment and for him not to bother her again. She'd mailed him his check with an extra two weeks pay, and afterward she tried to put the whole ugly scene out of her mind. She didn't know what had set him off, but she wasn't willing to risk another confrontation.
Even though he had not returned to the apartment and had seemed to accept the fact that he would no longer be working for her, she had gotten a couple of hang up calls that she suspected might be from Scotty. When a flower arrangement of white roses had been delivered to her house with a note reading, “I'm so sorry. Please, won't you forgive me? Scotty,” she had become even more concerned.
Beau had agreed with her that it was best to err on the side of caution. They had met at their favorite seafood place for lunch where he had proceeded to worm the whole sorry story out of her.
"What you need is a place with no telephone and no doorbell and no well-meaning neighbors. A place where all there is for you to do is eat, sleep, and write. A place where Scotty can't find you.” Beau had glared at her with a fierce expression on his face, protective instincts on alert.
She'd tensed, wanting to deny that there was any reason to worry, and then sighed in resignation. “You're right. I know you're right.” She'd agreed, trying to think of a spot she could go hide out. She dismissed most of the places she knew and had just about given up on the idea, when Beau spoke.
"I think I may know a place.” Beau had captured her attention with that remark, and when he had proceeded to explain to her about his old college buddy's place in the mountains, it had sounded ideal. “Do you think you could arrange for me to borrow the cabin?” she'd asked.
An odd twinkle had lit Beau's eyes. “Oh, I think so."
Abby smiled at the memory and finished the last of her coffee. She walked into the living room and poked around. There was no TV set, but there was a CD player and a wide assortment of CDs from which to choose. She slipped an old country and western favorite in and sat down on the comfortable sofa to wait for Mr. Cole to show up. Within minutes, she had kicked off her shoes and tucked them under the couch.
Even with the coffee she had drunk, she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. As the sounds of a man's voice singing about wasted love and cheating women drifted around the room, she sank down lower and lower. Bear curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace, and soon they had both fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep.
* * * *
Jack stopped his Jeep beside the SUV in front of the cabin. It looked like Aunt Abigail had arrived while he was gone to get the mail and pick up a few groceries. He still couldn't believe he had agreed to let some strange woman use the extra cabin indefinitely. At least he should have set a time limit, dammit—but it was too late now. He glanced around for the woman but saw no sign of her. Realizing that she must have gone into the house to wait for him, he grabbed the mail and a grocery bag from the backseat and then gazed at the Explorer in puzzlement.
Not quite the vehicle he had expected an “Aunt Abigail” to drive. Mud was splattered down the white doors, and the antenna had one of those little smiley-faced balls, only this one looked like a little bitty smiling Dracula. Weird. A bumper sticker on the back read, “Writers do it in novel ways."
He tried to ignore a faint feeling of unease and strode toward the house and across the porch. Entering through the front door, he set his packages down on the entry table before turning around to face the main part of the room. Right away, he saw the dog sprawled before the fireplace on his hooked rug. Its head lifted from its paws, but it made no threatening moves.
It wasn't the dog that held his attention, but the woman who was asleep on his couch. Long red-gold hair rippled in waves over her shoulders and trailed down to brush the floor. Her features were delicate, not strictly beautiful, but there was a piquant, almost pixyish quality there that he found very attractive. Her tip-tilted nose was dusted with freckles, and her chin held a small dimple. Jack's eyes moved to her moist lips, the lower one just a bit fuller than the upper, and then roamed down her white throat to the firm breasts, which rose and fell in time with her deep breathing. Her shirt had ridden up, and he could see the indentation of her navel above the waistband of her pants. Jack felt a tightening in his jeans as his eyes studied the sleeping figure before him. Definitely not Aunt Abigail.
His hands clenched as he acknowledged his reluctant arousal. His current lifestyle had offered little chance for feminine companionship. Admittedly, there had been times when he sought out women for his casual attentions, but they were easily available and easily discarded. All he wanted from them was a hard fuck and a quick goodbye.
Now here was some strange woman sleeping on his couch—invading his territory. A woman who had already captured his unwilling interes
t and, considering his hardening cock, it was plain that he would find her hard to ignore for any length of time. Hell, he could picture himself going over to where she lay, pushing up that little top that she wore to capture her full breasts in his hands, massaging them, and plucking at the peaks until they stood pleading for the attention of his mouth. Peeling down those jeans, he would plunge his cock into the wet passage that lay between her thighs. She would be tight and hot, so ready for him. Just imagining the strong clasp of her body around his dick had him hard as stone. He had reached down to unsnap his jeans before he caught himself.
What the fuck was he doing? He couldn't believe he was standing here daydreaming about screwing the brains out of some unknown female. Who was she? Why was she sleeping on his sofa? She looked a bit like Goldilocks, but he sure as hell wasn't Papa Bear.
His anger gained momentum the longer he watched his unwanted visitor, rattled by his body's reaction. He took a step towards her, and the dog, which had been quietly observing him, rose and growled low in its throat. Jack halted, and drew back, not wanting to provoke the animal. But the sound had awakened his mysterious guest. As her green eyes blinked open, she saw him standing before her and sat up, one hand automatically reaching out to calm her pet.
"Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
* * * *
Abby blinked up at the furious man whose heated stare made her uncomfortably aware of her tousled hair and rumpled clothing. As she straightened her shirt, she tried to collect her thoughts. Her sleepy eyes registered his harsh, male features and well-muscled body. Coal-black hair was a sharp contrast to the clearest, bluest eyes Abby had ever seen. But what was even more obvious was the tense stance of his body and the tight set of his mouth. His rampant masculinity dominated the room. As his furious gaze raked over her curves, she felt it in every pore of her body. Dangerous, she thought. He was very, very dangerous.
She reeled her thoughts back under control. She wasn't here to find a man. Besides, he was obviously way more man than she could handle. But she was puzzled at his blatant antagonism. This had to be Jackson Cole, and he must have been expecting her. Beau had said that everything was arranged, so why on earth did he look so furious?
"Mr. Cole?” She inquired hesitantly.
A brief nod was all the response she received as he continued to glare at her through narrowed eyes.
Satisfied that at least she hadn't somehow arrived at the wrong cabin by mistake, she stood up and held out her hand. “Mr. Cole, I'm Abby Montgomery. I think,” she paused and looked at him questioningly, “—I hope that you were expecting me?"
Chapter Two
Jack stared in astonishment at the hand held out to him by the woman who had risen and was gazing at him in trepidation and honest bewilderment. Abby Montgomery? This was Aunt Abigail of the orthopedic shoes?
"You're Abigail Montgomery?” he asked, having a difficult time associating the woman he was speaking to with the picture he had formulated in his head. Abby nodded her head, letting her hand drop back to her side.
"Beau's Aunt Abigail?” he asked again, disbelief shading his voice. Again, she nodded, understanding wiping out the puzzled expression on her face.
"Oh, no. Damn that Beau. He didn't explain about me, did he? You were expecting someone more...” she smiled, eyebrows rising, “more mature, perhaps?” Her eyes invited him to laugh with her.
"Look, lady, I don't know if you're who you say you are..."
"Oh, I'm Abigail Montgomery, all right. Although no one calls me Abigail except for Beau. And the only reason he does, is because he knows it pisses me off,” she interrupted. “Beau was just playing a little joke on you—that's all."
Trying to make sense of the convoluted explanation he was hearing, Jack began to get the idea. “You're not Beau's aunt, obviously,” he stated, recognizing Beau's somewhat warped sense of humor in the situation. This woman standing before him couldn't be older than her early twenties while Beau was near his own age of thirty-one.
"Oh, I'm his aunt, all right. At least, I was his step-aunt. My sister Katherine married Beau's dad. They're divorced now, but Beau and I are still pretty close.” Jack remembered Raymond Dalton, a somewhat garrulous man in his early sixties who'd had a string of wives over the past twenty years, each one younger than the last. Abby's sister must have been one of the endless parade.
"You don't seem too surprised by this whole situation,” Jack observed after a few moments of trying to reorder his thoughts.
She shrugged. “This isn't a new game. Beau gets a kick out of shocking his friends by introducing me as his aunt. It is a bit unusual since he's older than I am. And no one ever accused Beau of having the most mature sense of humor."
Jack listened to her in irritated silence. Beau had placed him in an awkward situation, and Jack had no doubt that he had done it on purpose. It was just the kind of thing that Beau would do. He probably thought it would be hilarious, but Jack failed to see the humor.
Where he might have found it easy to ignore Aunt Abigail with the thin moustache and sensible shoes, the fuckable Abby might turn out to be quite a different story. Reluctantly, he acknowledged his raw response to her. Even now, though he'd tried to remain focused on what she was saying, his cock had stayed hard and strained behind the zipper on his jeans.
Jack's thoughts were disturbed by the sound of Abby's voice and he realized that she had continued to speak. “And I hope you don't mind that I sort of made myself at home. But you weren't anywhere around. I made myself a cup of coffee."
Jack's unwilling desire for her, and the knowledge that he would be unable to appease that desire, sharpened his voice. He raised his chin. “Would it matter if I did mind?” he growled, dismissing her apology and erecting a wall of irritation between them.
* * * *
Abby's brow knit in consternation. His comment was rude, but perhaps he was still a little off-balance because of Beau's stunt. She could understand that since she herself had been the butt of Beau's jokes for years. So she smiled, determined to maintain a civil conversation with him. “No, I guess not. You know, Mr. Cole—Look, do you mind if I call you Jack? I'm afraid that I've never been very good with formality."
He shrugged, not responding to her friendly overtures. Abby tried again, undeterred. “Beau's been telling me about your mountain, Jack. I must say that I thought that he was exaggerating when he told me how lovely it was. But I can see now that he didn't come close to doing it justice. It's spectacular and..."
"I'll get you the key to the cabin,” Jack cut in and then turned and walked toward the kitchen doorway.
"Well!” Abby commented to Bear under her breath after Jack had left the room. “Not exactly the most outgoing guy in the world, is he?” She patted Bear on the head. “But I suppose it takes all kinds, right?” She was determined not to let Mr. Jackson Cole disturb her normally genial nature. She leaned over to whisper in Bear's ear. “He is quite a hunk though, isn't he? Not that I'm interested. But there is something about those eyes of his. Whenever he looks at me...” she shuddered, feeling trickle of moisture between her thighs, “man, oh man."
Abby was quite surprised at her immediate reaction to Jack Cole. She had always considered herself a somewhat asexual creature. Normally, she could take sex or leave it, and she usually chose to leave it. Now, for some reason, this man sparked something different in her. Something hot. But she dismissed the unwanted attraction. In addition to the fact that she had no clue how to handle a man like Jackson Cole, she didn't need or want a man, especially not right now. No matter how attractive he was. No, the two of them could just stay out of each other's way as much as possible. Beau had said the second cabin was pretty isolated so that shouldn't be very hard to do.
By the time Jack returned with the key in his hand, Abby had walked across the room and was gazing out the wide window. She turned at the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor, and his eyes speared her, sending a little shiver of awareness through her that
she tried to ignore. He walked over with the key dangling from his fingers.
He dropped it into her outstretched palm. “This is the only one I've got so try not to lose it.” Still oozing annoyance, Jack spoke abruptly to Abby. When he turned to the front door, Abby saluted his broad back, but only Bear observed her childish action. Then she scrambled to follow him out the door, stepping onto the porch just as Jack reached his Jeep and climbed in.
Urging Bear into the Explorer, Abby started the motor and followed the disappearing vehicle. As they moved through the dense woods on an obviously little-used road, they were forced to a snail's pace. The uneven terrain and huge potholes made her glad her SUV had four-wheel drive.
They arrived a few minutes later at a cabin almost identical to the one they had just left. Jack preceded her inside and began turning on the lights. He gave her a brief tour and explained how the generator worked. When Abby revealed her ignorance in lighting a fire, he demonstrated reluctantly. Even though it was spring, some nights still got cool. Then he rose to his feet and walked out onto the porch. Abby followed.
He paused and turned to face her. “The mail is delivered at a mailbox down the mountain a bit, and I collect it every morning. If anything comes for you, I'll drop it off."
Abby nodded. “I am going to be expecting some things from my agent in a day or so."
Acknowledging her comment with a narrowing of his eyes, he continued. “I stocked up on a few basics for you, but you'll probably need to make a run into Stone Hill, that's the nearest town, as soon as possible to pick up whatever else you'll need."
Again, Abby nodded and smiled, ignoring the curt note in his voice.
As he was about to leave, Abby halted him with a question, strangely reluctant to see him go now that the time had come. “How far is it from this cabin to yours? We seemed to have traveled quite a distance on that road."
Jack's forehead wrinkled, but he answered her question. “It's about two and a half miles by road, but not quite a mile going straight through the woods."
