by Judy Duarte
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As she looked up at him, their faces were very close. Their white breaths in the cold air mingled as she said, “I’m fine,” and he murmured, “I’ve got you.”
For a long, silent winter moment, everything went still. Their body heat seemed to create a cocoon of warmth diametrically opposed to the elements surrounding them. With the headlights of the car shining toward the cabin, he could see her expression in the shadows. It was questioning now—surprised and even a little curious. He was curious, too, about the vibrations humming between them, the chemistry that had seemed to spring up out of nowhere yesterday outside his office. Snowflakes landed on Emily’s bangs, on his nose. If he bent his head, their lips would brush. If he turned her to face him…
A gust of wind buffeted them.
He had to get a grip. This wasn’t a fun getaway for two. They were in Thunder Canyon to work and nothing else. He and Emily weren’t from the same world. In many ways she was very much like his ex-fiancée, Robin. She came from a blue-collar family, hadn’t known many advantages and was trying to make the best of her circumstances. Robin had made the best of her circumstances by accepting his father’s check and bailing out of Brad’s life.
Years later, he knew he should never have gone after her. He should never have heard her say she had feelings for him but wanted the good life now. His father’s money had given her freedom, and she wanted to experience it alone.
The good life. Freedom. He had both, but lately he’d felt more restless than satisfied or happy.
Releasing Emily, he said, “We’re getting wet.”
As another gust of wind and snow brushed across the front of the cabin, Brad used the key Caleb had given him, pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Emily watched Brad enter like a man on a mission. She could hardly keep her teeth from chattering now, but for those few moments when Brad had held her she’d been as warm as toast.
He hadn’t held her. He’d caught her. And if she hadn’t seen the desire in his eyes to kiss her…
She simply hadn’t. Her imagination was working way past overtime.
Suddenly she realized Brad had probably gone into the cabin ahead of her to search for creatures. Were there bears in Montana? She’d seen those movies where animals in the wild had broken through windows and played havoc inside a vacationer’s paradise.
This was not her idea of a vacation. A vacation destination for her would be a sunny beach on an island, swimming to her heart’s content, dancing under the stars.
With whom?
Shaking disturbing visions of Brad from her mental images, she followed the glow of Brad’s flashlight as he found the light switch.
The switch controlled the overhead light in the kitchen, and she took in the place where they’d be spending the night. They’d stepped into a living room with a wood floor, Native American patterned rugs, a hunter-green tweedy sofa and a tan leather club chair with a buffalo painted on its cushion. The log walls were devoid of decoration, but a bookshelf sat against one wall across from the club chair. The sofa faced the fireplace that was small but beautiful with its stone hearth and chimney.
Peering straight through the living room, she saw the small kitchen had an oven, burners and a compact refrigerator. To her left, she tried to see into the darkness of the bedroom, but she wasn’t able to. She supposed the bathroom was in there.
Finding the thermostat on the wall, Brad went to it and heat clicked on. “I’ll get the rest of the supplies. Don’t even think about trying to help me,” he said with a stern look. “Get warm.”
For some reason, when he looked at her, she got very warm. But she’d never admit that.
Taking her suitcase from the floor, he carried it to the bedroom. She saw him turn on a small lamp and then he set her valise on the bed.
“You can sleep in there tonight,” he said, emerging from the bedroom. “I’ll take the sofa.”
In the office setting, Emily hadn’t glimpsed Brad’s chivalrous side, though he did always open doors for her. She was a bit surprised by it.
When Brad opened the door to return outside, she heard the wind howl. He was going to freeze until he brought everything in. She knew he was probably used to fine brandy, but tonight maybe he’d appreciate hot chocolate.
As Brad brought in the last of the bags of supplies and placed them on the wrought-iron-and-glass kitchen table, he began unpacking them. After storing the cookies in an upper cabinet, he put milk and juice into the refrigerator. Emily couldn’t help but watch his every move.
“What?” he asked when he caught her interest.
She felt color rise to her cheeks. She’d been admiring his height, his broad shoulders, his adaptability to the situation. Brad Vaughn had to be used to maid service, but he was putting his groceries away. “Nothing.”
“What were you thinking, Emily?” His gaze pinned her to the spot, and she knew he wasn’t going to let her evade him. Brad didn’t let anybody evade him.
Choosing her words carefully, she selected the ones that were most diplomatic. “I was just surprised you were putting away the supplies.”
Like a panther cornering its prey, Brad took a few steps closer to her. “Surprised?”
“Guys don’t usually think about things like that.”
To her relief, he didn’t seem angry. “Guys? Meaning any guy in particular?”
His closeness unnerved her, and she quietly unscrambled her thoughts. “My brother, for instance. You’d think with three sisters and a mom he would have learned to pick up after himself after all these years. But even his wife says he’s impossible.”
Instead of focusing on her brother, Brad asked, “Did your parents divorce?”
“No. Dad died when I was ten. An aneurysm he never knew he had burst.”
“I’m sorry. You said you have a brother and sisters?”
“Eric’s two years older than I am. Lizbeth and Elaine are younger. What about you? Brothers and sisters?”
Brad shook his head. As the wind rattled the windowpane, he still studied her closely. “It must have been hard for your mom to raise you on her own.”
“It was. We all had part-time jobs as soon as we could.”
When he reached out and slid his hand down the back of her hair, she closed her eyes, amazed by the sensations coursing through her.
“It’s still damp,” he murmured.
“It will dry,” she responded, opening her eyes again, gazing into his brown ones, suddenly wanting to feel his lips on hers more than anything else she’d ever wanted.
The windowpane rattled again, and she couldn’t believe she was even thinking such a thought. Gathering her wits about her, she turned away from him and switched off the burner on the stove. “I’ll have hot chocolate ready in a minute, and then we can think about supper.”
“If we can agree on what to eat.” His voice was a bit husky. “Your taste and mine seem to run in different directions.”
“I don’t eat a lot of meat,” she admitted. “But if you want to pan fry that steak, I can make a huge salad—”
All at once, there was sudden and complete darkness and an all-encompassing silence. Then the wind whooshed against the cabin once more and the whole building seemed to quake.
“Damn,” she heard Brad mutter. “Where’s my flashlight?”
“I have a penlight on my key chain.”
“But you’d have to find your key chain,” he said in a wry tone.
In the pitch blackness she knew it would be hard to find anything. As afraid as she was in their present situation, Emily was concerned that if she moved she’d bump into Brad, and that seemed even more dangerous than standing in darkness in a strange place. So she stayed put, trying to remember where she’d dropped her purse. She thought it was on the buffalo chair, but she wasn’t sure.
She heard Brad moving around, shifting bags on the table. Finally he announced, “Got it.” A moment later, a beam of light streaked to where she was standing.
>
“I’m fine, but what are we going to do? Without the power, we don’t have any heat.”
“Slow down, Emily. We’ve got a fireplace. There’s wood on the hearth and probably more out back. I think I spotted an oil lantern over on those bookshelves.”
Dipping his hand into one of their bags, he produced matches. After he found the lantern, he lit it. The light vanquished some of the darkness in the living room area.
“There’s a can of lantern oil here, but we should still probably conserve it. Why don’t you make that hot chocolate while I go out and check the wood supply.”
“Why check it? If we already have some here—”
“I have to see how much we have. We may have to make it last.”
“Only one night.” While he aimed the flashlight at the floor, she couldn’t see his face in the shadows. “Brad? It’s only going to be one night, isn’t it?”
“Let’s just take things as they come.”
“What aren’t you telling me? We can’t get snowed in here for days, can we?”
“I doubt that, but I don’t want to run out of wood, either.”
“From what I could see, there were trees everywhere.”
“There are. But even if I had an ax, everything’s wet. Green wood smokes. I’m hoping there’s a supply of covered logs out back. Make the hot chocolate.”
He was keeping something from her—she knew he was—and she wasn’t going to plead with him to tell her. She wouldn’t plead with a man for anything.
Five minutes later, when Brad returned from checking the wood pile, his face looked grim.
Emily panicked. “What?”
He’d carried in a few logs and now he deposited them on the hearth. “This is it.”
She was shivering again. She’d taken off her sweater because it was damp from the snow. The temperature in the cabin was only a little warmer than when they’d arrived. Her slacks were still wet and her stockings, too.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he hung it over a kitchen chair. He was wearing a western-cut, blue plaid shirt, and the truth was, he looked as if he belonged in Montana. She obviously didn’t. Brad Vaughn was sexy enough in the suits he usually wore, but in jeans and a snap-button shirt…
She swallowed hard.
“What do you want to do first? Drink the hot chocolate or change your clothes?” He looked down at her slacks, which were wrinkled against her ankles. “You’ve got to get out of the wet clothes so you can warm up. I hope you brought something comfortable.”
At the last minute, she’d thrown in a pair of sweats. “I did, but I don’t really have anything warm.”
“I’ve got to get the fire going. Once I do that, we’ll raid the closets and drawers and see what we can find. We’ll both have to sleep in here tonight by the fire to keep warm.”
Her gaze automatically slanted to the sofa.
“You can have that,” he said generously. “I’ll make a bedroll on the floor.”
“That’ll be hard.”
“I’ve camped out before. I’ll be fine. If it gets too uncomfortable, I can always try the buffalo chair. I can usually sleep anywhere.”
Sleeping brought to mind beds. Beds brought to mind what men and women did in beds. Pushing away visions of her and Brad in a bed, she remembered the article in the newspaper yesterday morning. She remembered Suzette Brouchard and the claim that Brad was her baby’s father. She remembered Brad’s richbachelor lifestyle.
“Go on,” he said with a nod. “Take your hot chocolate with you. Drink it while it’s warm.”
“We won’t be able to make steak for supper.”
“We’re not going to starve. We have plenty of food and we’ve got the Sterno burners. Relax, Emily. You’re going to get gray hair if you keep worrying about everything.”
Suddenly the whole situation—Montana, the snow, being cooped up with Brad Vaughn in the cabin—got to be too overwhelming.
As she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, she said, “Maybe I’ve never been to Montana and maybe I’ve never gone camping, but you don’t have to treat me like a child.”
Picking up her mug of hot chocolate, she tried not to let it slosh over her hand as she made her escape into the bedroom.
It would have been a good exit, but then Brad called to her. “Emily, you’re going to need this.”
When she turned, he held out the flashlight to her. “I can use the oil lamp. You won’t be able to see in the bedroom.”
Did she spot amusement in his eyes? Was that an almost smile at the corner of his lips?
Grabbing the flashlight, she mumbled, “Thank you,” and headed for the dark room.
After she pushed the door shut, she hated the fact that tears pricked in her eyes. The attraction to Brad Vaughn that had plagued her ever since she’d started working at Vaughn Associates had been buried with a lot of effort. But this trip was bringing it to the surface, and she didn’t want it. She didn’t need it. As soon as Lizbeth graduated from college at the end of May, she was going to earn her own degree. Then she could become more than a secretary. She could become anything she wanted—except maybe the kind of woman Brad Vaughn dated.
That doesn’t matter, she chastised herself.
After she fiddled with the flashlight, unpacked her suitcase and found the clothes she wanted, she changed, not anxious to go back into the fray with Brad. The violet sweats had been a Christmas gift from her sisters. They were comfortable, as were the crew socks she pulled onto her feet. With her wet clothes off, the room was still cold but she didn’t feel quite as chilled.
Sniffing, she caught the scent of burning wood. She’d lived in an apartment all her life and had never been in a house with a fireplace. That more than anything else urged her to open the bedroom door and go back out into dangerous territory.
But when she stepped into the living room, she froze.
Brad was standing in front of the fire, pulling a pair of jeans from his suitcase on the sofa.
He was stark naked!
Chapter Three
In spite of herself, Emily couldn’t look away. Brad was magnificent with the firelight flickering over his skin, shadows playing in intimate places. Stunned and absolutely speechless, she noticed that with no shirt to hide his muscles, Brad’s shoulders seemed twice as broad. His chest hair was black and curly, and as she followed it down—
Either she made a sound or he sensed her presence. Rather than looking embarrassed, though, he tossed her a grin, obviously unashamed of his body.
She swiveled around, ready to run back to the bedroom, when she heard the rustle of jeans, the clank of a buckle and the quick rasp of a zipper.
“You can turn around now. I didn’t expect you to come out so quickly. Women usually take a lot longer than that to change their clothes.”
Maybe the women he dated.
Her hand went to her hair. She hadn’t even taken time to brush it after she’d slipped on the violet top that went with her pants. “I guess I’m not your typical woman,” she responded blithely.
Though her cheeks still felt as if they were on fire, looking straight ahead, she went to the kitchen, trying to pretend seeing him naked hadn’t affected her at all. Although he’d pulled on jeans, the snap above his fly was still undone, his belt buckle was unfastened and he was shirtless.
“So what’s for supper?” she asked him, her heart still racing as she kept her gaze away from his bare skin.
After he pulled on socks, he rummaged in his suitcase to find a flannel shirt. “Since we had the hot chocolate and we have a good fire, why don’t we go with peanut butter sandwiches and a can of fruit for tonight. In the morning we can use the Sterno and try to cook eggs.”
She knew he’d bought more than one Sterno unit. Nevertheless, she still had the feeling Brad was keeping something from her. Maybe he was concerned the snow would fall more heavily during the night and they wouldn’t be able to dig themselves out.
“Peanut butter’s good, but y
ou can have the can of fruit. I’ll eat an apple.”
“A purist,” he teased with a smile that almost made her toes curl.
“With some things,” she tossed over her shoulder.
The kitchen was cold and getting colder. Only the living room held warmth, because of the fire. “I guess we could eat on the sofa.”
“If you want to stay warm.”
With him beside her on the sofa, she had the feeling she’d be plenty warm. While she made the peanut butter sandwiches—two for him, one for her—he popped the top on the can of fruit and then hunted in the cupboard for the cookies he’d stowed there. He’d let his shirt hang out over his jeans, and she had the disturbing urge to slip her hands under it and touch his bare skin.
What in the world was happening to her?
With a quick twist of her wrist, she closed the jar of peanut butter. “You never did tell me how you learned to clean up after yourself.”
Leaning against the counter, holding the bag of cookies, he casually crossed one foot over the other. “No, I didn’t.”
The sound of his voice was unusual. “Does that mean you’re not going to tell me?”
“You’re different here than you are in the office.”
If that was his way of not answering her question, it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t going to let him turn the tables on her. “And you’re changing the subject.”
The oil lamp on the kitchen table flickered, as if a sudden draft had given it renewed life. Its light was reflected in Brad’s eyes. He seemed to stare at the flame for a few seconds before his gaze finally met hers. “Kids pick up habits out of necessity.”
The statement seemed incongruous with his background. It was well known that Phillip Vaughn had come from money, even if he hadn’t been successful in his own right. As a boy, Brad should have had every advantage, as well as a maid picking up after him.
Uncrossing his ankles, the casual pose forgotten, Brad set the cookies on the counter as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite for them.
As she thought about his statement, she said softly, “I know what you mean. After Dad died, Mom was scattered. Since Eric was the oldest and a boy, she looked to him to do some of the things Dad had done—everything from taking out the garbage to helping sort through her finances. Lizbeth, Elaine and I had to pretty much fend for ourselves. Since I was the oldest of the three of us, I took care of them and also took over a lot of the household chores. Mom had to work longer hours to make ends meet.”
