by Vella Munn
“I feel like I’m in a den,” Michon observed. “This is definitely a man’s room.”
“Do you disapprove?”
“How could I disapprove?” Michon turned toward him, puzzled. “It’s your house. You have every right to do with it what you want. Actually I think it complements the log construction perfectly. And it reflects what I know of your personality.”
“Then I was wrong about you,” Chas said as he settled himself casually on the bed. “I didn’t think this place would fit your style at all.”
“You didn’t?” She felt hurt. She wasn’t at all like the woman he saw that first day. “Chas, I’ve seen so many modern apartments that I’m sick to death of them. I’ll never understand why condominiums are so popular. This place—this place says something about its owner.”
“It does?” Chas leaned back on his elbows, eyes dropping lazily. “What does it say about the owner?”
Michon bit her lip in concentration, wondering if Chas had any idea how undeniably handsome he looked. “You want me to psychoanalyze you? I’m afraid that’s never been one of my strong points, but I’ll give it a shot. You don’t have any pretensions about yourself. I like that. At least I don’t get that feeling. Maybe I can make a comparison. I was going with a man who had a lot of artwork in his house that was all framed with those thin silver frames. I don’t know if you know what I mean, but his pictures were of stark skyscrapers, pen and ink profiles of women who belonged in fashion magazines. I mean, what did that say about Paul? That he liked skyscrapers and mannequin women?”
“You were going with him? You aren’t anymore?”
The change in direction that Chas’s question took the conversation wasn’t what Michon expected. For a moment she tried to think of some way to avoid talking about Paul. “Some things were never meant to happen,” she answered simply. “Let’s just say we parted without tears.”
“You didn’t love him?”
“How can you say that?” Michon asked defensively. “You don’t know him at all.”
Chas closed his eyes and stretched out on the bed. The hollow between his hipbones became more pronounced, and Michon had to fight not to stare at his lean hips and muscled thighs. “When you love someone it hurts to say good-bye,” he said.
Without thinking Michon moved to the bed and sat on it herself. Again she felt the urge to touch him but fought it off. It wasn’t right. Not yet. “You’re talking about April, aren’t you?” she ventured. “She keeps coming up in your conversations.”
“I’ll try to remedy that.”
“Don’t,” Michon protested. “If you want to talk about her, talk.” Stop, a small voice cried as something vulnerable inside Michon admitted that the topic would bring her pain.
“I don’t. April belongs to the past.” Chas opened his eyes and stared deep into Michon’s. “At least I learned one thing from the experience. I’m not going to ever give that much of myself again.”
“Because it hurt too much?” Michon ventured. No. This wasn’t what she wanted to talk about.
Instead of answering, Chas only stared at Michon, his eyes dark, the young-boy quality in him replaced by age. Finally he sighed. “I’m turning over a new leaf, or at least I’m taking a shot at it. I’ve been pretty serious about life so far. I’ve always pushed myself, tried to be the best I can be. I can’t change that, but I’ve learned that serious relationships run the risk of backlash. From now on I intend to enjoy what happens. But I’m keeping my emotions out of it.”
“I don’t see how you can do that,” Michon whispered, suppressing a shudder because it upset her to hear Chas talk like that. She was reacting to him. She wanted to know that he was capable of the same feeling. “Humans aren’t able to keep their emotions out of their relationships with people.”
“Don’t worry, Michon. It can be done.”
Michon started to shake her head, but Chas didn’t give her the opportunity to continue. He reached over, pulled her toward him until she was stretched out beside him on the hand-sewn spread. His hands found her arm, her shoulder, the line where jawline and hair met. Unable to think, Michon returned his steady gaze. How much of her feelings her eyes revealed she didn’t know, but she was afraid that he could see how deeply his gesture was affecting her. Why was he doing this? Did she want him to stop? Her flesh came to life, an instinctive reaction to being touched by the kind of man she barely knew existed before their meeting in the park.
“What—” she began, but he didn’t give her the opportunity to continue. His hands on her shoulders were pulling her even closer until she had no choice but to surrender her lips to his. Her eyes closed. She thought of nothing, knew nothing except this moment. His body was warm and pulsing against hers, the bed under them soft and enveloping. A moan reached Michon’s lips, and it was only through a tremendous effort that she was able to force the moan to remain silent within her.
Michon’s left arm was pinned under her, but her right was free to stroke Chas’s knotted cord of a forearm. She sensed more than felt his total control over her, his greater strength. There might be whispers of a boy in his eyes, but his body was all adult male.
Paul had never made her feel like a helpless kitten. Before this moment no man ever had. But it was happening now and she had no desire to do anything save surrender to his strength. There was a fleeting thought that she would never be able to fight him off should he force his will on her, but the thought blew away as quickly as it had come. Chas wasn’t the kind of man to take advantage of a woman.
He had enough self-control to hold his emotions in check. His kiss might be no more than a physical act on his part, but there was enough of the code of the gentleman in him to make her feel safe, even in his remote home.
Outside two birds called back and forth to each other, ticking off the seconds, as Michon gave herself totally to the emotion of the moment. In saner times she might have never agreed to come here, but that was before Chas had walked into her life and challenged her with his reality, made her face the fact that she was a woman with all the needs, emotions, and reactions of a woman.
Michon wouldn’t have objected if Chas had touched her breasts, made their contact more intimate than it was, but he didn’t. Instead he simply kissed her, a gentle kiss that reached her soul. Her own personal code of right and wrong wasn’t tested. Their kiss was a simple act and carried no threat of taking the relationship at a faster, potentially dangerous pace.
At last the kiss ended. Chas held her away from him, his eyes searching her features, for what, she didn’t know. “Why did you come here?”
“To—to get some shoes.”
“Is that all?”
“No.” Michon fought to pull herself back from that suspended state Chas had so effortlessly placed her in. “I—there’s something we have to talk about.” She sat up, putting necessary distance between them. “When we were with Harry I had the distinct feeling that you weren’t happy with me. It was as if you could barely stand to be in the same room with me. Chas, you don’t really want me on this trip, do you?”
Chas pushed himself into a sitting position and stared idly at the floor. “I was that transparent, was I? All right. I’ll tell you what I was thinking. It’s something that needs to be aired. I think I’m the main reason you’re going on this expedition. Tell me if I’m wrong, but you wouldn’t even know about it if it wasn’t for what I’d said. I don’t understand why you’re going.”
“You don’t?” Michon’s confusion came both from her inability to express her recent emotions and the influence Chas’s presence still had over her. “Chas, you’ve never had a job that made you feel like you were slowly digging yourself into an emotional grave. I’m tired of feeling as if I’m half-alive. I want, I need, time away to sort out what’s happening to me. The John Day will give me a totally different environment in which to do my thinking.”
“And that’s all?” Chas turned searching eyes on Michon. “Look at me and tell me that you feel not
hing for me beyond casual friendship.”
“Chas? I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Michon tried to push herself off the bed, but he held her with iron fingers on her wrist.
“I’m sorry,” he relented although he continued to hold on to her. “I’m not much good at this kind of conversation, Michon. There haven’t been a whole lot of women in my life. It’s my life-style. It’s the way I planned it and I’m not complaining, but it does have certain drawbacks. I’m not as polished at making conversation with women as you may be used to. What I’m saying is. I’m a man, and you’re a woman.”
“You think I’m chasing you, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Not in so many words. But you’re thinking it, aren’t you? I might ask the same thing of you, Chas,” Michon said sharply, her mood now wary and bordering on anger. “After all, what happened on this bed a minute ago isn’t what happens between casual friends.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Chas was now massaging her wrist, as if wordlessly soothing away any discomfort he might have inflicted on her. “That kiss was for me. We were talking about emotions, specifically my emotions. Let’s call it a test and leave it at that.” Chas surged to his feet and paced to the window. He stood motionless for a moment and then whirled back toward Michon. “What if we lay off the serious conversation for now. Whatever reasons you have for getting Harry to take you on, they’re your reasons.”
“Thank you.” Michon was trembling slightly under the intensity of his stare, afraid she wasn’t hiding her emotions well. Should she walk away from this complex man? Life would be much smoother without him disrupting it.
“There’s just one thing that needs to be open between us,” he continued. “I meant what I said about wanting to keep my emotions out of the relationship I have with people.”
Why? Michon thought. How did April hurt you so much?
But she kept her questions to herself. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her senses about her through further talk. Chas might have kissed her only to prove that she had no effect on him. Michon couldn’t say the same about her own emotions.
Chapter Six
“I don’t know,” Michon moaned, staring across her living room at Traci. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”
“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out. Not after all your brave talk. So your family didn’t come across the plains in a covered wagon. Your grandfather was supporting himself when he was fifteen, wasn’t he? Some of his backbone had to have rubbed off on you.” Traci took another sip of the wine the two women were sharing to celebrate Michon’s last night in civilization.
“It’s not that.” Michon was packing a few last-minute things, but she stopped long enough to concentrate on her friend’s question. “It’s the leader of this expedition, Chas Carson. I’m sure he thinks I’m chasing him, and he doesn’t want that. Traci, when I’m around him I don’t know what I’m thinking half of the time. And the rest of the time—” She left the rest unsaid.
“You’re attracted to the jock, aren’t you?”
Michon couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s choice of words. “Yeah, I guess I am. But he’s still carrying the torch for some woman he won’t talk about. The only thing I know about her is her name. I wish I didn’t. The other day, when I went to his place, he kissed me. We were sitting on his bed and he kissed me. I felt it clear down to my toes. Well”—Michon giggled self-consciously—“maybe it wasn’t my toes.”
“Just kissed?” Traci’s expression showed that she had her doubts.
“Yes. At least I’m sure that’s how he saw it.”
“And now you’re afraid you won’t be able to keep your dignity around him when you’re snuggled into sleeping bags under a full moon.” Traci took another sip of wine, a slight grin tugging at her lips. “My dear, don’t you know what a perfect situation you’ve got going for you? Okay, so the jock, your mountain man, whatever you want to call him, he wants to play handshaking acquaintances. Do you think he’s going to feel that way by the time this little trip is over? Look, the two of you are going to be spending days and days, to say nothing of nights, together. Anything can happen.”
“No.” Michon stifled a moan and reached for her wineglass. “He still loves this April. I don’t know what she did to him, but it must have been something earth-shattering. He isn’t interested in another woman. He’s been hurt. I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, my friend. You don’t have to go around covered by burlap. You’re not that hard on the eyes.”
“That’s not what I want.” Michon sat cross-legged on the rug and snapped her fingers to let Worthless know he could come over for some attention. “I’m not interested in some quick romance. Casual sex isn’t my cup of tea. Oh, darn, I don’t know what I want. But it isn’t a one-night stand.” Michon blushed. “Forget I said that. I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life. It’s not my style. But I haven’t been very satisfied with what relationships I’ve had with men in my life. Maybe I read Cinderella too many times. I don’t know. Have I set my sights on something that isn’t there? Should I be satisfied with someone who likes barbecued hamburgers and corn and Worthless, and quit looking for someone to sweep me off my feet? How do you do it, Traci? How do you know when you’re in love?”
Traci smiled and hugged her knees. “When you can’t think of anything else. When sleeping together is as good as anything is ever going to get,” she said softly. “Oh, I don’t know. All I know is that I know that marrying Jim is the only thing I want to do. It feels so good just to be with him, to know he wants to be with me. Sure, I know we’re going to fight, and I’ll probably find out that he snores. But when he puts his arms around me, it’s the only place I want to be.”
Michon stared silently into her wineglass. When Chas kissed her the other day, that was the only place in the world she wanted to be. But that couldn’t be love. It wasn’t what Traci felt for Jim. Traci and Jim had known each other for over a year and had been dating steadily for close to ten months. She’d watched her friend slowly, irreversibly, fall in love. Love didn’t happen in the space of a few brief meetings.
Fortunately Michon hadn’t had much free time to think about her reaction to Chas and wonder how she was going to manage spending so much time in the presence of a man determined to keep his emotions under lock and key. She had to remember to pack a spare set of sunglasses, sunburn cream, and lip balm as well as tennis shoes and hiking boots, along with the shoes Chas had loaned her. Traci had agreed to take Worthless with her, even though that meant caring for a dog while making last minute preparations for a wedding. Traci even offered to drop by the apartment to water Michon’s plants. “Just don’t drown or something,” Traci teased. “I’d be willing to adopt Worthless, but I’m afraid your poor mutt would pine away to nothing if you were gone very long.”
Michon scratched Worthless behind the ear. “Poor baby. You don’t understand what’s happening, do you? Believe me, I’d like to take you with me but I’m afraid the John Day River isn’t the place for a dog.”
“Maybe you can take a homing pigeon with you and send him back here with a message for Worthless,” Traci suggested. “You sure as heck aren’t going to be able to use a telephone out there. I still can’t believe you’re doing it. The city girl is really heading for the boondocks. Your grandfather would be proud of you.”
Boondocks certainly described the country Michon found herself in the next day. She’d driven over to the high school before dawn, loaded her belongings into the school bus that the school district had loaned the expedition, and climbed into the bus along with Harry and the students. Harry explained that Chas would be meeting the group at Service Creek with the canoes late in the afternoon. Michon was kept on her toes getting to know the students, particularly the girls. She’d been worried that the students would consider her an outsider and have as little as possible to do with her, but they’d been on the road onl
y a few minutes before Michon found herself joining the animated conversations. Talk was of a general nature for the first few hours. It wasn’t until they were bouncing along quiet country roads and saw few signs of civilization that Michon realized just how isolated they would be. Rolling hills and isolated farms made up the landscape. The students found the towns they passed through fascinating because of their sleepy, almost extinct, quality; it was as if the towns were unconcerned with twentieth-century pace.
“I can hardly wait to reach Twickenham,” a tall, athletic girl named Babs Whitelaw giggled. “Do you think there’ll be any streetlights there? I don’t suppose there are any Golden Arches.”
Michon glanced up from the map Chas had supplied. According to the map Twickenham was about a four-hour canoe trip from their starting point at Service Creek Bridge. She couldn’t see any indication that Twickenham was even a collection of buildings, much less a town. “I wouldn’t hold out any hopes for any kind of a nightlife there,” she said of the spot where the group would be spending the night after their first day on the river.
“Who needs a nightlife?” another girl pointed out. “As long as Roger Parker is around, there’s no end to the possibilities for the evenings, especially when I don’t have much competition. That man is a hunk.”
Michon glanced quickly at the young man the girl was talking about. Roger Parker was a hunk all right, complete with the thick neck that she’d seen on football players and wrestlers. She was pretty sure that Roger had no doubts about his impact on the girls.
She glanced down at her wrist, remembering how Chas’s hand felt on it. Roger Parker might be more than willing to make a girl’s night special, but that couldn’t be said of the group’s guide. Michon could only hope that Chas didn’t guess that she hadn’t been able to shake off his impact on her. Yes, he’d accused her of using the expedition as an excuse to continue to be around him, but she hoped he believed that the air had been cleared between them and they’d function simply as two adults, with the safety and education of the students as their one common bond. Whether he held that belief was something only time would tell.
