“It was just as I thought,” Deanna said from behind him.
Cope glanced over his shoulder, accepting the phone Deanna passed to him as she stopped beside him. “What?”
“Marti is on the mainland and Lacey decided to go to Matt’s.”
“So your grandmother is alone?”
“For the moment, but Big John is on his way over there to wait out the storm with her.”
“Big John?” he repeated.
“He’s a friend of Grammer’s,” she explained. “He’s a handyman and does all her odd jobs.”
“Handyman, huh?” Cope waggled his eyebrows. “Does that mean he’s good with his hands?”
“Please,” she begged, shuddering at the thought of her grandmother and Big John sharing a physical relationship. “That’s my grandmother you’re talking about.”
“What’s wrong with an older couple getting it on?” he asked. “I hope we’re still playing chase around the bed when we get to be their age.”
She narrowed her eyes at him in warning. “One more word about us as a couple, and I’m leaving, hurricane or not.”
“Speaking of which,” he said, and looped his arm around her shoulders to head her for the stairs, “we need to find that radio.”
After turning on the radio and discovering that the warning Deanna had feared had not yet been issued, Cope decided it was probably wise to go ahead and move their vehicles to higher ground, as the waves pounding the beach were growing higher by the minute. There was always the chance, if the water reached the house, their vehicles would be rendered useless and they wouldn’t be able to leave, at all.
By the time they’d moved the cars to Beach Road and started back, the wind had picked up, making walking against it all but impossible. Locking their arms around each other, they bowed their heads and trudged on, while the wind pelted them with stinging grains of sand and storm clouds boiled overhead. Upon reaching the house, they combed the storage rooms, searching for items they would need in the event the watch turned to a warning. They collected boards, nails, hammers and stacked them on the deck, prepared to board up the windows, if and when it proved necessary.
Exhausted from their work, they collapsed on the sofa to watch the storm, while keeping their ears tuned to the portable radio.
“Wow. Look at that,” Cope said, pointing at a wall of rain moving inland from the Gulf.
Within seconds, drops began to splatter against the glass. Within minutes, the driving rain had reduced their view of the Gulf by half.
Deanna burrowed closer to Cope. “I hope Grammer’s all right,” she said uneasily.
“I could drive you home. The Hummer should be able handle the wind and rain.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s too dangerous to drive in this kind of weather. Besides, Big John’s probably with her by now.”
“Oh,” he said knowingly, biting back a smile.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she snapped, still unable to believe that there could possibly be anything going on between her grandmother and Big John. “He’s Grammer’s—” She paused and frowned, trying to think how to label their relationship. “Friend,” she finished, with a decisive nod.
He wrapped an arm around her and drew her close. “And friends take care of friends. Right?”
She knew he was just saying that so she wouldn’t bite his head off for putting his arm around her. But having him hold her was fine with her…for now. With the threat of a hurricane hanging over their heads, it was nice to be snuggled against his side. It made her feel safe. Protected. Loved.
She stiffened at that last thought. She didn’t want to feel loved by Cope! she thought, in dismay. Safe and protected were okay. But to actually want or need his love, that left her…vulnerable.
Before she could ask him to move his arm, the lights went out, pitching the room into darkness.
She screamed and buried her face against Cope’s chest.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, hugging her to him. “The power went out.”
“It’s so dark,” she whispered fearfully. “I really, really hate the dark.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve got candles. Remember? I found them in the kitchen drawer when we were looking for a hammer. You stay right here and I’ll get them.”
Reluctantly she sat up. “Hurry,” she pleaded, as he moved away from her.
She strained to hear the sound of his footsteps, then jumped when she heard a loud crash, followed by a string of curse words.
“Cope?” she called uneasily. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. But I can’t say the same for that crystal bowl of potpourri you had sitting on the counter.”
“How did you break that?” she cried, already bemoaning the loss of what she considered one of her better purchases from the auction they’d attended. “The candles weren’t anywhere near it!”
“Deanna?”
“What?”
“Put your hand in front of your face.”
She pursed her lips. “If you’re going to tell me to fold down all but the tallest finger, forget it. I’m too smart to fall for that old trick.”
“Not a bad idea, but that’s not what I had in mind.”
With a weary sigh, she lifted her hand before her face. “Okay. It’s there. Now what?”
“Can you see your hand?”
“Barely.”
“I rest my case.”
Rolling her eyes, she dropped her hand to her lap. “Point taken. Cope?”
“What?”
“Would you mind bringing that bottle of wine that’s in the refrigerator? I’m thirsty.”
“You gotta be kidding.”
“And some of that cheese, too. And some crackers,” she added quickly. “I’m hungry, too.”
She listened to him knocking around in search of the requested items, heard a couple of dark curses. “Don’t worry about glasses!” she called, fearing he’d end up breaking what few he had. “We can drink straight out of the bottle.”
She heard the sound of his footsteps drawing near and squinted her eyes, trying to make out his shape. “Did you get everything?” she asked.
He raised his elbow and let the bottle of wine drop onto her lap. “I think so.”
“Here,” she said and held out her hands.
He passed over a bundle of candles and the tin of crackers, then dropped down beside her with a sigh. Swearing, he popped right back up and tossed the cheese in her direction.
She peered up at him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I forgot the damn matches.”
Swallowing a laugh, she opened the tin. “Since you’re up,” she began.
“No,” he said, as he stalked for the kitchen.
“I was just going to suggest that you might want to grab something to put these candles in.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t suppose you have any candelabras?”
“Sorry. Fresh out.”
“What about a beer bottle?”
“Full or empty?”
“Empty.”
“How many?”
She glanced down at the candles in her lap and did a quick count. “No more than three. We don’t want to burn all of them at once.”
She heard the refrigerator door open, then…nothing. “Cope?” she called anxiously. “What are you doing?”
She heard what sounded like a belch, then, “Emptying a beer bottle.”
She dropped her head back and laughed. “I’m glad I didn’t say I needed a dozen.”
“I consider that an insult. I can handle my beer.”
Realizing by the sound of his voice that he was returning, she held out a hand. “Give me the matches.”
He dumped the empty beer bottles onto the sofa. “Dammit. I forgot to get them.”
She started to rise. “Maybe I should get them.”
“No. I will. You get the candles ready.”
Sinking back down, she picked up a bottle and stuck a candle in its end. By th
e time Cope returned, she had all three bottles lined up on the coffee table.
“Careful,” she warned, as he neared. “The bottles are on the table.”
There was a rustle, a scratch, then a flare of light illuminated Cope’s face. Cupping his hand around the flame, he sank to a knee and touched the flame to the wick of each candle in turn.
When he’d finished, he blew out the match and threw out his arms. “And then there was light!” he proclaimed proudly.
“I would hardly call that light,” she said dryly.
He twisted around and dropped down beside her. “Where is your sense of adventure? Your pioneering spirit? This is cool.”
“What is?”
“This,” he said, lifting his arms to encompass the room. “We have a natural phenomena playing out right before our very eyes. Steven Spielberg couldn’t compete with these special effects. And the best part is, we get to watch it all from the comfort of our own living room, while we drink wine from the same bottle and feed each other cheese.”
“First off,” she informed him, “it’s not our living room, it’s yours. Second, if you eat any cheese, you’ll be feeding it to yourself. And, third, you’ve already chugged three beers. The wine is mine.”
He slumped down on the sofa and plucked the tin of crackers from her hand. “You’re such a spoilsport.”
“No, I’m simply more experienced than you.”
He popped a cracker into his mouth. “How’s that?”
“Unlike you, I know that this natural phenomena, as you referred to it, is not something to take lightly. Hurricanes destroy. They kill. And I know, too, that this power outage could last for days. You may think that sitting on your sofa in a candlelit room is an adventure, but you might not feel that way after say, oh, three or four days.”
He angled his head to peer at her. “You mean we could actually be stuck here together for three whole days, with no electricity, no phones, no communication with the outside world whatsoever?”
“Or longer. Now do you think this is such a grand adventure?”
He popped another cracker into his mouth and smiled. “No. More like heaven.”
Deanna pushed from the sofa to pace. “I can’t take much more of this. I swear. I’ll go crazy.”
“It’s only been—” Cope punched the stem of his wrist watch, illuminating the dial “—four hours, twenty-three minutes and sixteen seconds, since the electricity went off.”
She spun to face him, her eyes wild. “That’s like an eternity! I need activity, stimulation. Light, for God’s sake!”
Cope rose. “Ah, come on, Deanna. It’s not that bad. A little inconvenient, yes. But it’s not the end of the world.”
She shot her fingers through her hair and knotted them there. “Try your cell again,” she begged, feeling the panic rising. “See if you can get through yet.”
Though he’d tested his cell phone’s reception every five minutes for the last hour, Cope figured it best to humor her. He punched in a number at random, listened a moment, them snapped the phone’s protective cover back into place. “Nothing but static.”
Groaning, she crossed to the window and pressed her nose to the glass. “Please,” she begged the storm, “go away and make someone else’s life miserable for a while.”
Chuckling, Cope caught her hand and drew her back to the sofa. “You’re only making yourself more miserable by focusing on it. Try to think about something else.”
She slid her spine down the sofa. “Like what?” she asked miserably. “There’s nothing to read. The television won’t work without electricity. And there’s nothing on the radio but weather reports, and I’m sick to death of listening to that.”
“If we hadn’t been listening, we wouldn’t know that the hurricane missed our coast by a good two hundred miles.” He scooped the deck of cards from the coffee table. “Let’s play cards.”
She spared him a look. “We’ve played cards for the last two hours.”
“Spades?” He snorted a laugh and raked his thumb over the cards’ edge, dividing the stack neatly into two. “That’s a sissy game.” He shuffled. “Poker. Now that’s a man’s game.”
She lifted a disinterested hand and let it drop. “Poker’s no fun unless there’s something at stake.”
“So we’ll play for money. How much have you got on you?”
“A dollar and some change.” She twirled a finger in the air. “Whoopee.”
“Well,” Cope said with a sly smile, “there’s always strip poker.”
Chapter 7
Deanna slanted Cope a look. “And wouldn’t you love that.”
He lifted a brow in challenge. “What’s wrong? Afraid you’ll lose?”
“Do I look like a fool?” She gave him a quick look up and down. “You’ve got on twice as many clothes as I do.”
“I’ll give you a handicap.”
Insulted that he thought she’d need one, she snatched the cards from his hands. “I don’t need a handicap. Okay,” she said, getting down to business. “I’ve got a shirt, bra, shorts and panties. That’s four items. You’ve got a shirt, undershirt, jeans, belt, underwear, socks and boots. That’s nine. Start stripping.”
“Okay by me.” Grinning, he tugged off his boots and socks and tossed them aside.
“Two socks, plus two boots, equals four items,” she pointed out to him. “One more to go, cowboy. What’s it going to be? The shirt or the jeans?”
“Neither.” He unbuckled his belt and dragged it through the loops. “Now we’re even.”
“Chicken,” she muttered and dealt the cards.
She picked up the hand she’d dealt herself and studied it. A pair of queens, a pair of twos and a four of diamonds. “One for me,” she said, then looked over at Cope. “What about you?”
He plucked three cards from his hand and laid them facedown on the sofa between them. “Three.”
She dealt his three, then her one. But discarding the one hadn’t helped her much. She was still holding only two pairs.
“I call you,” she said and laid down her cards. “Two pairs. Queens and deuces. Can you beat that?”
He blew out a breath and spread his cards out on the sofa faceup. “All I’ve got is pair of aces.”
“Only one pair?” She made a tsking sound with her tongue. “Too bad, cowboy. You lose. So what’s it gonna be? The shirt or the jeans?”
Scowling, he slowly began to unbutton his shirt.
Her mood having improved dramatically, Deanna scooped up the cards to shuffle again. “You know, this wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.”
He tossed aside his shirt, then slapped a hand over hers, flattening the cards she was shuffling. “My deal.”
She lifted her hands. “Well, excu-u-se me.”
He quickly dealt the cards, then picked his up and fanned them out. “None for me. You?”
She frowned at her cards a moment, then plucked out two and laid them down.
Cope dealt her two. “So what have you got?” he asked.
Smiling, she spread her cards out on the sofa between them. “A flush.”
With a sigh, he tossed down his cards, then reached a hand behind him and dragged his undershirt up and over his head, tossed it aside.
Laughing gaily, Deanna raked the cards together. She quickly dealt another hand.
She looked at her cards and had to work hard to keep a poker face.
“None for me,” she said, trying her best to hide her excitement. “You?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m good. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
With a dramatic sweep of her hand, she spread out her cards, then batted her eyelashes at him. “Full house. Maybe we should build a fire,” she suggested. “You’re going to get awfully cold with nothing but your underwear to keep you warm.”
“If we build one, it’ll be to keep you warm.” He turned his hand over, revealing a straight, and grinned. “So what’s it going to be? The shorts or the T-shirt?”
&n
bsp; Pursing her lips, Deanna shucked her shorts and tossed them aside. “I’ve still got on more clothes than you,” she grumbled, as she stretched her T-shirt down over her knees.
“For now,” he allowed and dealt the next hand.
Deanna lost that hand…and her T-shirt. Cope lost the next and cheerfully stripped off his jeans. With Cope down to his underwear and Deanna left with only her bra and panties, it was obvious that her next loss would leave her the most exposed.
“This isn’t fair,” she complained, pouting.
“What’s not?” Cope asked, as he examined the hand she’d dealt him.
“It’s no big deal for a man to have his chest bared, but it is for a woman. I should be allowed another article of clothing.”
“I offered you a handicap and you refused.”
“Offer me one again.”
“Uh-uh. Too late. What have you got?”
She tossed down her cards in disgust. “A big zero.”
“So,” he said, smiling broadly as he revealed his pair of aces. “What’s it going to be? The bra? Or that cute little thong?”
When she merely frowned, he said, “Come on, Deanna. Fair’s fair. Something goes.”
“Don’t rush me,” she snapped. Her frown deepening, she reached behind her and unfastened her bra, then peeled the straps down her arms and tossed it aside.
Cope stared, barely able to breathe. Her breasts bobbed before his eyes, the nipples at each center as tempting as ripened strawberries on a vine.
“Well?” she asked impatiently. “Are you going to stare or play?”
Play? Yeah, he’d like to play all right…but it wouldn’t be with any damn cards.
Giving himself a shake, he tore his gaze away from her breasts to pick up his cards. That his hands were a bit unsteady didn’t surprise him. It was a wonder he was able to hold the cards at all!
“Two,” he said and tossed down two cards from his hand.
She dealt two to him, then three for herself.
Her shoulders sagged in defeat, when she saw what she’d drawn. “Nothing,” she stated flatly and tossed down her cards.
“Me, either,” he said, then glanced over at her. It took a minute for his gaze to reach her face. “What’s your highest card?”
To the One I Love: That Old Familiar FeelingAn Older ManCaught by a Cowboy Page 28
