by Val Daniels
"You could thank me," Matt said.
"I didn't ask for your help." Jillian held the door, waiting for him to come in. "I could have done it."
"You don't need help, Jake," he said, compressing his lips tightly. "You need a guardian."
"I've got one, a guardian angel, remember?"
Matt gave her one last frown, turned and stalked down the path she'd hauled him up the evening before. "I'm going to replenish the woodpile," he called gruffly before disappearing among the trees.
"I don't need your agenda," she mumbled, then remembered what had happened last night and fought the urge to tell him to report in regularly. Instead, she paused in her work from time to time and watched him.
Once, Matt glanced up and saw her at the window. He started toward the cabin, then hesitated. She quickly moved away.
It was almost three o'clock when he placed the last logs on the stack of wood that had been growing outside the back door and came in.
"Looks like you're almost done," he said, glancing at her pile of things by the front door.
"I need to leave soon. If I get home by five, I won't have to unload all this after dark." She looked at him—really looked at him for the first time all day, and realized he was slightly pale. "Did you see a doctor while you were in Pomona?"
He shook his head. "I'll get it looked at when I get back home," he promised.
"I'd better change that bandage before I go," she said and went for the first-aid kit. She expected an argument as she sat down at the kitchen table and laid out the supplies. He surprised her by meekly obeying her somewhat gruff orders.
"How's it feeling?" She gently peeled away the previous bandage.
"Okay, I guess."
"It looks nasty," she said grimacing.
He chuckled. "That bad?" His eyes met hers and she wavered. He steadied her by putting his hands on her waist, then pulled her to stand between his knees.
As irritated as she'd been with him most of the day, he still had a wild effect on her pulses. She held herself stiffly to keep her legs from coming in contact with his.
"You need stitches," she forced herself to say calmly. In a couple of hours, she wouldn't have to cope with these erratic and unexpected sensations.
Her breast brushed his shoulders and he drew a sharp breath. Circling her wrists with his hands, he held them away from him as if he found her touch agonizing. She marveled that she had the same electrifying effect on him.
"Jillian, if you'd like to stay, I'll leave if you want me to. The power should be on soon and they promised to get the phone fixed before dark."
She softened—slightly. "Thanks for the thought, Matt, but I've got a lot of things I need to do anyway. It would be nice to start the new year with a clean slate."
"Jillian?"
She waited. She wanted to hear what he had to say so much that she trembled.
"Damn," Matt cursed, steadying her a second time. He dropped his hand quickly and she swayed again.
"Damn," he repeated, standing and folding her in his arms. "Surely I deserve one small remembrance, sweet Jillian." His arms tightened as she leaned into his strength. His lips drew closer, and her body became fluid and weak with anticipation.
Oh, Matt, she moaned silently. A thought hit her in the pit of her stomach. If she saw him again, he'd be a casual acquaintance. He'd never call her Jake in that tender way. He'd never touch her and make her pulses race. She studied his face carefully, feature by feature. His heated look stopped her heart and her lips rose longingly to his.
He pushed her away, jamming his hands into the pockets of his heavy cords. "I didn't intend to do that," he said, sinking back into the chair.
Jillian felt numb as she watched his square jaw harden and his eyes turn cold. "No problem," she croaked, stepping out of Matt's sensory range to reach for the bandage she'd put on the table. "I'm sure you didn't." She didn't know whether her gasps for air were caused by frustration, confusion or his continued closeness. Maybe she should stay. From the beginning, his reaction to her had been as reckless as her reaction to him. The attraction was definitely mutual. Could they build something from that? Lord knew she wanted to. But—and the "but" was a big one—could they ever meet each other's needs when she wanted the moon and the stars and he wanted nothing? He had graduated from "not being the marrying kind" to "not being good husband material," she thought wryly. Was that progress?
She finished her task, careful to avoid touching any part of him but his forehead. "There," she said, putting the last piece of adhesive in place. "I guess I'll get the rest of my stuff into the car." She forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. Keys. Coat.
"Here, let me help you with that." Matt carried out the largest box and set it on the hood of the car. Extricating the car keys from her fingers and opening the trunk, he took the box she was holding and placed it inside. She headed back to the cabin for more just as the phone rang.
"Sounds like they got it fixed. They're probably checking the line. You answer it and I'll finish loading everything for you," Matt offered.
"I'll get the bags in the bedroom," she called as she hurried in.
By the time she finished the conversation, the rest of her things were stowed away and Matt was adding marshmallows to hot chocolate. "I thought you might need a little sustenance for the trip," he explained, handing her a mug. He obviously wasn't anxious for her to leave.
"It's cold, but it's sunny. Let's sit out on the back porch."
"The man on the phone was the one you talked to about getting your Blazer out of the ditch." She relayed the message as he grabbed his coat from the hook. "He said that a farmer who lives not too far from here is coming over when he finishes his chores."
"Good." He opened the door for them.
He sat down on the top step and raised his arm, inviting her to sit under the warmth of it. She hesitated only a fraction of a second before accepting the invitation. What could it hurt? She'd be gone in another five minutes. Steam rose from the stoneware mugs as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him.
She sat solemnly, savoring this final bit of sharing. It felt completely natural to be close to him, even though they'd been at odds most of the day.
Matt cleared his throat. "I do care what happens to you, Jake."
She gazed up at him, her eyes wide. He stared hard at the sparkling landscape in front of them. "I know." It took an incredible effort, but she managed to keep her voice even.
Surprisingly enough, she did know he cared for her, and the knowledge comforted and scared her. Jillian's heart thudded heavily.
"Are you going to make up with him?" he asked quietly, removing his sheltering arm from her shoulders. "Marriage is supposed to be forever. That's a long time."
"You're right about that," she agreed. It was easy to discuss theory, since there wasn't going to be a marriage, to Harrison or anyone else, for a long, long time.
The desire to get married and settle down had been only a vague dream until Grandma died. After that it became a gnawing hunger. She wanted someone of her own—but you couldn't go around marrying just anyone simply because you didn't want to be alone.
And she didn't intend to compound her problem by spending too much time with a dyed-in-the-wool loner who made her toes curl whenever he looked at her.
"I don't want you to make a mistake," he continued.
"You said there wasn't such a thing as happily-ever-after, so if I marry anyone, you'd consider it a mistake, right?"
"Maybe I was wrong." Matt held her eyes with his.
Jillian closed hers, breaking the contact. "It doesn't matter, Matt."
He touched her hand. "There are other men, better—"
"It's irrelevant," she interrupted. "I'm not going to marry him." She wished she didn't feel like crying; she wished she could attribute the tears to Harrison.
He leaned back, stretching his arms above his head.
For a moment, she hated him. He didn't
want her, but he sure as heck didn't like the idea of Harrison having her, either. So, now he could relax.
He took her empty cup and set it on the railing. Pulling her to her feet as he rose, he turned her to face him. His hazel eyes seemed a brilliant green as they studied hers. They sparked with an inner fire, and the slight wind ruffled his ash-blond hair. "Can I see you when I'm in Topeka?"
He did want her. The wanting was in every hungry line of his body. It was in his eyes. Obviously, he believed it was only a matter of time. Her mouth quivered as his head drew steadily closer, her lips parted involuntarily. If her heart had pounded any harder she'd probably have passed out. And yet nothing had changed—it was the same old impossible situation.
Although he wanted her as much as she wanted him, he didn't want any part of the commitment that she believed went with the wanting. She turned her head away, when his mouth would have touched hers. His kiss glanced off her cheek instead. "I'm not going to have an affair with you, if that's what you think," she denied huskily.
His hand curved around the nape of her neck, catching strands of her wind-scattered hair. He drew her to him and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then held her close, her head nestled into the curve of his neck.
She knew she should move, put some distance between them, but she couldn't.
"I'm not asking you to have an affair with me," he said quietly.
They stood, unmoving, for a time measured only in heartbeats. "It's getting very cold out here." The chill was settling into her very soul. Could she handle friendship with Matt? No.
"I need to be off." She tried to move away.
Matt tightened his hold. "Why were you going to let me make love to you, Jillian?"
She looked up at him warily. Did his outsize ego need her to reiterate that she loved him, so he could turn away in rejection again? "Because, like the mountain, you were there." She pulled out of his arms. "I'm going now, before I freeze to death." She glanced at her watch. "The farmer who's going to pull your car out of the ditch should be here soon."
"I'll walk you out." He slipped inside with the mugs and grabbed her purse from the counter. "Come on." He handed her the purse.
"Surely I deserve one small remembrance," he'd said earlier. Her hands grew clammy waiting for him to take it. Against all common sense she wanted to feel his lips on hers once more. Just once. Yet she was reluctant to look at him. She was afraid she'd wrap herself around him, begging him to make love to her so she could expect him to make an honest woman of her.
Okay, she'd have an affair with him… No. They'd hate each other within six months and she'd be back where she'd started, alone and looking for anything and anyone to fill the void. And she'd never have the kind of life she longed for, the kind of life she needed. Matt was dangerous. He could start a whole disastrous cycle.
They walked to her car in silence. Putting his hand to the small of her back, he helped her in, treating her as if she were somehow fragile.
The door closed with a sound of finality and she rolled down the window.
Matt crossed his arms and leaned in.
"Well, thanks for everything," she said ruefully. "You've taken care of me every bit as well as Grandma could have wanted."
He gave her a sideways glance and smiled. His silky mustache angled devilishly. "Don't tell anyone. My reputation will be shot."
As if he couldn't resist, he reached in to tweak her nose. "It's been… interesting," he said with a rasp.
Jillian turned the ignition, swallowing hard to get rid of the persistent lump in her throat. Don't embarrass yourself, she willed, looking over her shoulder to check the path. She put the little car into gear. "Bye, Matt," she said softly, allowing herself one more long look at him.
"See you." His "see you" was a promise. She could see the determined glint in his eyes.
"No, Matt. Please don't look me up. It wouldn't serve any purpose and you could hurt me a lot."
Matt seemed startled that she'd put it into words. "Bye, Matt," she repeated.
He started to say something but she released the brake and backed out of his life.
Jillian was halfway to Topeka when the numbness wore off. An ache spread in her chest. She suddenly felt weary—and more alone than she had ever felt. First Grandma. Then Harrison. Now Matt. The names became a litany.
By the time she turned her car into the parking space in front of her apartment, Jillian was sick of thinking about the past. Somehow she had to get her life back on track. No more disasters like Harrison. No more instant emotional attachments to whoever happened to be handy, she vowed, then realized she'd just put a three-day acquaintance in the same category as her former almost-fiancé.
She mentally checked her bank balance as she unloaded the car. Money was definitely a problem if she decided to make any major changes in her life.
She'd gone to work for the senator as soon as she'd graduated from secretarial school. Grandma had known him when he was a boy in their hometown. And Grandma figured the big city wasn't as much of a threat if Jillian was under the protection of someone important.
It was a good job and she'd been content until now. But there wasn't any future in it. Could she happily grow old managing the office? The very thought made the future seem terribly bleak. And Karen would be quitting at the end of the school year.
Jillian made one last trip to the car, locked it, then went back up to the apartment and fell into bed. But she didn't sleep.
She supposed she could take some night classes at the college. But what would she study? Music? She tried to visualize herself as a music teacher. The picture wouldn't come into focus.
Maybe she'd been too hasty in burning her bridges with Harrison. But nothing about that brief thought struck a chord. It was strange how easily she'd excised him from her plans. She'd really believed she cared for him, yet now that he was relegated to the past, he seemed to fit there better than he had ever fit into her future.
A deep quiet settled over the apartment. Not even the refrigerator hummed. She could have been the only person left on the planet. Alone in the dark, with her eyes wide open, she ached for a life that included people she loved.
No matter how many times she'd faced the fact that, someday, everyone had to die, she'd never believed Grandma would desert her. Even now, in the picture that wouldn't be banished from her mind, Grandma was firmly ensconced in the rocking chair in the center of her future, holding one great-grandchild on her knee, crooning softly to the sandy-headed toddler playing by her side.
Jillian let the familiar dream-movie run in her head. "Here, Grandma, you must be tired. Let me put the children to bed."
Grandma smiled as she gave up her burden.
"I'll get this one, Jake." A new presence intruded on her fantasy. And even in the dazed state between daydream and sleep Jillian's head jerked toward the familiar voice.
Matt grinned at her as he stepped forward and slung the laughing, delighted child over his shoulder.
Jillian moaned and shook her head to rid herself of the vision. She should have recognized the child. He was an exact miniature of the man. But Matt was as much a part of the past as Grandma and Harrison. She had to start thinking of him that way or not think of him at all.
"Oh, what am I going to do now?" she whispered to the empty room. A tear welled in her eye and she concentrated on the feel of it trickling down her cheek. "I can't be in love with him, can I, Grandma?" She turned over and buried her face in the pillow to shut out dreams that could never be.
"Come on, Jillian."
The pounding on the door startled Jillian out of sleep, and she opened her eyes to a roomful of bright sunshine. She groggily got out of bed.
"Jillian? Your car is out there. I know you're—"
Karen almost fell in as Jillian opened the door.
"You were knocking loud enough to wake the dead, Karen. What time is it anyway?" Jillian hid a yawn behind her hand and rubbed her eyes. Turning her back and heading for the kitc
hen, she tacitly invited Karen to join her.
"It's almost nine. Well?" Karen demanded, closing the door and following. "What happened?"
"Let me wake up, for Pete's sake. You want some coffee?"
Karen nodded. "So why are you back?"
Jillian didn't answer until she'd flipped the switch on the coffee maker. It had been a long night and the daylight filtering through the kitchen blinds didn't seem to be doing much to clear her head.
"You weren't supposed to be back for another four days. You should have called." Karen's voice held a mixture of censure and worry.
"I didn't think you'd know I was back."
"Matt called."
Jillian suddenly felt wide awake. "I'm sorry. By the time I unpacked the car, I was so tired, I decided calling could wait until this morning since I wasn't supposed to be home anyway." She reached for her purse and concentrated on opening the outside pocket. "Matt called?"
"He wanted to make sure you made it back okay. He offered to phone you himself, but you know me. I couldn't wait to get the lowdown, so I told him I'd check on you. Then all I got was your damn answering machine, so I figured he'd misunderstood, and you and Harrison had gone off somewhere." She halted expectantly.
Jillian found the keys she'd been digging for and handed them to Karen. "Here. I appreciated the use of the cabin," she said lightly, "even if things didn't quite work as planned. As a matter of fact, Harrison didn't make it down until yesterday. Then he was only there for maybe an hour. We decided marriage wasn't such a good idea and he left."
Karen's mouth dropped open, and Jillian had the unique pleasure of seeing her speechless. She sank into a chair. "You're kidding! Things didn't quite work out as planned?" Karen echoed. "What a massive understatement." Then her startled expression melted into one of understanding. "Ohh." She looked irritatingly smug. "You fell for Matt," she said knowingly. "You can't say I didn't warn you. Come on. Tell all. You can leave out the X-rated parts."
