Her lips twisted. But that wasn't going to happen.
Not this year anyway. No, just as the bonds that bound families together had changed her plans for her first night in the house, so had her plans for the New Year's holiday been changed. Shelly and Sloan would have been hurt if she had refused to attend their first New Year's gathering. Since that had been something she had been loath to do, she had cheerfully pushed aside her own plans, besides baking the frittata to take to the party, and reminded herself that this was one of the reasons she had come back to the valley—family. She shook her head. Living in New York, for years all she'd had to consider was whether or not she really wanted to do something—not the feelings of others. It was weird the way that affection impacted your life. Not, she told herself hastily, that she was going to be at the beck and call of the family at a drop of a hat—she wasn't that selfless. She grinned. Hardly. Honesty made her admit that she was going to have a good time at Shelly and Sloan's and it would probably be more fun. Besides, there would be other New Year holidays to celebrate … Who knew, maybe this time next year, there would even be someone special to share the day with … Her nose wrinkled. Nah. Never happen. She'd been her own woman too long.
She wasn't due at the party until six o'clock, but Roxanne gave herself plenty of time and left the house for the drive out to Sloan and Shelly's place just after five o'clock. Shadows were beginning to creep around the buildings and trees and she enjoyed the almost spooky drive to the valley floor, watching as her headlights turned ordinary objects like crooked snags and manzanita bushes into goblins—at least to someone with an active imagination, she thought with a giggle.
Sloan and Shelly only lived about fifteen, sixteen miles away, but taking in the rugged terrain between here and there it wasn't just a simple drive. They lived about ten miles out the Tilda Road, up in the mountains at the north end of the valley. The Tilda Road itself was a good five or six miles from her place and once she reached the valley floor, she was able to make good time … until she reached the Tilda Road and the pavement stopped. In a series of hairpin curves, the road rose steeply in front of her, and leaving the valley behind, she grimaced as the Jeep hit a hole that shook the entire vehicle. From here on out it would be slow, careful going. The rough, graveled Tilda Road was littered with potholes, some Sloan swore were the size of Delaware, and twisted like an angry snake—it made the road to Oak Valley seem like a four-lane freeway. All part of its charm, she told herself as the Jeep rattled and protested when she hit one of those Delaware-sized potholes.
She hadn't driven more than three miles up in the mountains when huge, wet snowflakes began to splat against the windshield and float in the air. Gee, for once, she thought, smiling, the weathermen actually got it right. Then she sighed. Oh, how she would have loved being all snug and warm in her own house watching the snow fall, instead of driving out to her brother's place. What we do for love, she thought ruefully.
She had barely completed that thought when the Jeep gave a cough, a lurch, and stopped. Just stopped. The lights still shone brightly, the dash was lit up, but there was no go.
Puzzled, she turned off the ignition, then on again, trying to restart the vehicle. Nothing. She stared at the gauges, her heart sinking when she noticed the gasoline gauge; the needle rested firmly on empty.
Biting back a curse that would have made an ironworker blush, she frowned at the gauge. How could that be? Why, she'd filled the gas tank only. … She grimaced. When had she last filled the Jeep? She couldn't remember.
Staring accusingly at the gas gauge, she considered the situation. Not good. She glanced outside. In the glare from her headlights only encroaching blackness and swirling snow met her gaze and mindful of the drain on the battery, she turned off the lights. Darkness closed down on her.
Nibbling at her bottom lip she considered the situation. The Tilda Road was not a busy thoroughfare. It wasn't a heavily populated area either, not even sparsely populated. A few people lived out here, but well off the road, like in miles off the road, with miles between neighbors. It wasn't as if good neighbor Sam was suddenly going to appear with a gas canor that she could just scamper down a handy driveway and find shelter and a phone with an obliging homeowner. She groaned. And brilliant woman that she was, she'd left her cell phone back at the house. It was just a short drive out to her brother's … why would she need a phone? Ha! She was stuck. In the middle of nowhere, in the dark, in the snow, and the only creatures she was likely to meet except maybe someone else on their way to the party, were cougars, bears, foxes, and skunks. On New Year's Eve.
She looked down at her snug-fitting black suede jeans, matching vest, and leopard print silk shirt she'd chosen to wear tonight. Large gold hoops swung from her ears, a delicate multifaceted gold chain hung around her neck, and a snappy pair of leopard-printed microsuede boots with gold heels completed the outfit. Not what she would have selected to wear while tramping through the snow and the wilderness that lay outside the Jeep's windows. But help was at hand. Since it was planned for everyone to stay the night, she'd packed a couple of changes of clothes—heavy socks, boots, jeans, blouses, and sweaters—and a jacket. She didn't look forward to adding clothes, but with no gas, there wasn't any heat in the Jeep and she sure wasn't dressed for the weather.
OK, she could bundle up and put on every piece of clothing she'd brought with her. Maybe she wouldn't freeze. She flicked on the lights for a moment, trying to get her bearings, wondering if she was really considering trekking for help.
The Tilda Road wasn't a full two lanes wide; it was wide enough to pass, barely, in most places, provided the meeting vehicles dove instantly to their side of the road. Because of the narrowness of the road, it was customary to drive pretty much down the center—until and if you met an oncoming vehicle. Following normal practice, Roxanne's Jeep was stopped almost in the middle of the road. The only good thing she could see in the situation was that it was on one of the few fairly straight stretches; anyone coming up on her would have warning and not just come barreling around a curve to smash into the back of the Jeep. Remembering the flares in the back, she scrabbled around and found one. Heedless of the icy weather, she jumped out of the Jeep, got the flare lit, and threw it on the ground in back of the Jeep.
Shivering, she hurried back into the relative warmth of the Jeep. Inside, she grabbed her suitcase and dragged it to the front seat. Getting and keeping warm was imperative. Ten minutes later, a pair of denim jeans pulled over the suede ones, another blouse and two sweaters added to what she was already wearing, two pairs of socks and her hiking boots on her feet, she figured she was as prepared as she was going to get. Her heavy leather jacket lay on the seat beside her—she was saving it for when it got really cold—like around two o'clock in the morning.
Arms wrapped around herself, she stared out at theblackness, wondering if she shouldn't try to find help before it got later … and colder and the snow deeper. She bit her lip. Leaving the safety and confines of the Jeep was not appealing and she was conscious of her lack of knowledge of the area. Sure, she'd grown up around here, but that was twenty years ago and those intervening years had been spent where takeout was only a phone call away, neon lights came on at sundown, and there were people everywhere.
The fact that she'd be missed gave her some comfort and there was the distinct possibility that help would arrive in the form of another partygoer. She brightened. Of course. She couldn't have been the last person on the way to Sloan and Shelly's. Ilka or Ross or Nick or someone else invited to the party was bound to drive up any minute now.
That thought had just crossed her mind when the sweep of lights behind her caught her attention and the soft growl of another vehicle seeped inside the Jeep. Elation swept through her. Help had arrived—and before she really became worried or really cold. Was she born under a lucky star or what?
The other vehicle stopped and there was the slamming of a door. A big bulky male form appeared at her window and tapped impatient
ly on the glass.
Rolling down the window, she smiled brilliantly up at Jeb Delaney. She was even happy to see him. Any refuge in the storm, she reminded herself.
Jeb did not appear happy to see her. “What in hell,” he demanded, “are you doing stopped in the middle of the road?” He glanced back at the shimmering flare. “At least you had the brains to put out a warning.”
She kept her smile in place, although it took an effort—a big effort—and said politely, “No gas.”
His black brows snapped together and he glared down at her. “Are you telling me,” he snarled, “that you've run out of gas?”
Roxanne smiled even more brilliantly. “You got it, big guy. Flat out empty. Bone dry. Not a drop in the tank.” “I suppose it would do me little good to remind you that this isn't New York—that gas stations do not abound, nor is there help ready on every corner?”
She opened her eyes very wide, her smile even brighter. “Gee, you know, I never noticed.” She fluffed her hair. “Silly little ole me.” “Knock it off,” he growled. “You could have been in trouble. Real trouble if I hadn't come along.”
Her jaw hardened. “I would have been uncomfortable and probably not happy with the situation, but I was not in any danger—except of spending a cold, miserable night in the Jeep.” Her eyes burned like amber fire. “Why don't you just buzz off? I'll wait for a more congenial rescuer.”
“And that's another thing,” he began, the snow dusting his black hat and broad shoulders under the black leather jacket he wore, “you shouldn't have opened your window to just anyone. We may nothave the sickos that frequent the big cities, but there are guys around here that you really don't want to meet alone on a night like this. You were a damned fool to have opened your window like that.”
“I know,” she snapped, and promptly rolled it back up.
Hands on his hips, growing colder by the moment, Jeb glared at her. She glared back, her chin set at that stubborn angle that drove him nuts.
It was a standoff. Muttering under his breath, Jeb knocked on the window. “Open it,” he mouthed when she just stared at him. Her chin went up a notch higher.
He closed his eyes, counting to ten. He'd probably strangle her one of these days. He took a deep breath. OK, maybe he'd come on a little strong. But Jesus! The fright she'd given him when he'd rounded that last bend and spied the jaunty little black Jeep sitting forlornly in the middle of the road. Of course, he recognized it immediately and the shot of pure fear that had gone through him wasn't something he wanted to experience again anytime soon. His imagination working overtime, terrified that she'd been hurt, or worse, wasn't in the vehicle, had him flying out of his truck before he'd had time to think. The relief that had gone through him when he realized she was safe had left him, he'd admit, a mite testy.
He opened his eyes and stared at her stony profile. He took another breath and, tapping the window, shouted, “I'm sorry. Can we start again?”
She eyed him. Sniffed. And slowly rolled down the window.
He bent down, his hands firmly on the door of the Jeep … and the window. “Ran out of gas, did you? Bad luck,” he said. “Were you on your way to Sloan and Shelly's?”
She nodded, not giving an inch.
He smiled and she blinked, her heart behaving erratically as he leaned there, the snow falling gently around him, giving her the full benefit of that mesmerizing smile. His teeth gleamed whitely beneath the heavy black mustache, faint attractive lines crinkling near his long-lashed eyes, and she looked at him, really looked at him for the first time. Why, he's handsome, she thought stupidly as her gaze roved over his craggy face. Very, very handsome. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she suddenly remembered what those lips had felt like on hers. Breathing became difficult. She swallowed. Uh oh. She was in trouble. Bad, bad trouble.
She cleared her throat. “Uh, yes. I was. On my way to Sloan and Shelly's.” Her eyes locked on the snap at the top of his jacket, she asked, “Is that where you're headed?”
“Yep.” He glanced around. “Cold night and all … good thing I came along, huh?”
She smiled faintly. “Yeah. A good thing.”
“Well, before I freeze my balls off,” he said with a grin, “let's get you off the road and your stuff trains ferred to my truck—we have a party to attend. We can worry about your Jeep tomorrow.”
Roxanne couldn't think of one objection. With Jeb's truck pushing her, they managed to get the Jeep to a wider spot and she was able to park it off the road. A minute later, her suitcase and the ice chest with the frittata in it were tossed on the backseat of the truck and she was sitting in the warm cab of Jeb's truck.
As they pulled away from the Jeep, Jeb said, “I don't want to start another argument, but come on, Roxy, you know better.” He shook his head. “Running out of gas. Jesus.”
She sent him a look and he shut his mouth, his eyes on the road, but she noticed he was smiling. They made conversation for the first mile, both of them being very polite, talking about the weather, the Christmas holiday, and the coming New Year.
The warmth of the truck soon became too much for Roxanne and she began shedding her clothes. Jeb tried not to gawk, but it was hard when one of the most beautiful women in the world was sitting right beside you taking off her clothes.
He didn't say anything when the sweaters were discarded and she had struggled with her boots and socks and put them in the suitcase, but when she began shimming out of her jeans, he cleared his throat and croaked, “Uh, what are doing?”
She grinned. “Getting rid of all the extra clothing I put on in anticipation of spending the night in the Jeep.”
She pulled on a pair of leopard-patterned boots with gold heels that sent the most lascivious visions through his brain. One in which she wore nothing but the damn boots had his breathing coming in faint gasps. Staring fixedly out of the windshield, he finally managed to say, “The extra clothes—smart thinking.”
“Why thank you, Mr. Delaney. That's probably the first compliment you've ever given me.”
“That's not true,” he protested. “I've said nice things about you before.”
Jeans, sweaters, and blouse safely packed along with the rest of the extra clothing, she looked over at him. “Name one.”
“Uh, well, um. …”
Roxanne chuckled, a warm, husky sound that did something to his diaphragm … and lower. He felt his sex swell—or rather swell even more and he moved uncomfortably. He'd been in a state of half arousal from the moment he'd caught sight of her face inside the Jeep and having her this close to him, the scent of her perfume tangling in his nose and the intimacy of the cab and night did nothing for his unruly hormones.
Roxanne had seldom seen Jeb at a loss and she shook her head, laughing softly to herself. He wasn't such a bad guy, she thought as she finished repairing the damages of the past several minutes. As the truck bumped and lurched down the road, she combed her hair and, using the lighted mirror on the sun visor, touched up her makeup. She flicked the dangling gold hoops. There. She looked just as she had when she left the house.
She glanced at Jeb, startled to see him looking at her, a funny expression on his face. The truck slowed, until it was barely crawling down the narrow gravel road. There wasn't much light in the cab, only what came from the dash lights, but it was enough to illuminate all the contours and angles of Roxanne's face framed by a cloud of black hair.
“God, you're beautiful,” he said almost on a note of reverence, the truck almost coming to a full stop.
Roxanne was not vain. She took no credit for her looks—she'd had nothing to do with the mix of genes that had given her the face and form she possessed and she never quite knew what to say when people complimented her on her beauty. And because her beauty was none of her making, she usually dismissed such comments, but Jeb's remark was important to her, although why totally escaped her. She knew that her looks shouldn't matter, that it was her brains and intelligence that she wanted to be noticed, but
right now, she was glad she had been blessed to be born beautiful.
She smiled uncertainly, her heart fluttering oddly in her chest. “Why, thank you.” She swallowed, the flutter in her chest growing stronger, as his eyes remained fixed on her face. “That's twice,” she said nervously. At his incomprehensible expression, she muttered, “Twice that you've paid me a compliment. Keep it up and it might become a habit.”
How he wrenched his gaze away from those mesmerizing features, he never knew. He just did it and felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. Eyes on the road, he pressed down more firmly on the gas pedal. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Wouldn't want that to happen now, would we?”
“I don't know,” she said, “I might find it enjoyable, but …”
He glanced at her. “What?” he asked warily.
Laughter bubbled up out of her. “But you'd probably choke to death before twenty-four hours went by.” He joined in the laugh.
An easy silence fell between them and before hostilities could break out again, they had turned off the Tilda Road and were on the final leg of the journey. Five minutes later they could see lights gleaming through the forest and a moment after that the truck was pulling into the wide graveled area at the side of Sloan and Shelly's place.
Hearing the vehicle, Sloan had appeared at the door, the light from within outlining his big frame. Tumbling from the truck, Jeb hoisting a duffel bag over his shoulder and Roxanne clutching her suitcase, they hurried through the increasingly heavy snow up the wooden steps and into the cabin.
The warmth felt heavenly and after kissing her brother on the cheek and giving Shelly a hug, Roxanne asked, “Don't tell me we're the first ones here?”
Shelly laughed. She was a tall, striking woman with tawny hair and emerald eyes, just a few years younger than Roxanne was. Like Roxanne, Shelly had been born and raised in the valley, but an abortive love affair with Sloan when she was eighteen had sent Shelly fleeing to New York and New Orleans and she had not returned to Oak Valley for seventeen years. Because of that and the family feud that had existed between the Grangers and the Ballingers since the days just following the Civil War, Shelly and Roxanne hadn't gotten to know one another until Sloan and Shelly had settled their differences and to everyone's surprise had married. They had been a little wary of each other at first, mainly Shelly, but during the past six months, they'd discovered that they genuinely liked each other. While the remainder of the Ballingers remained just a trifle aloof, Roxanne, right from the beginning, had happily welcomed Shelly into the family. They had become not only sisters-in-law, but friends, too.
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