Sandra's Classics - The Bad Boys of Romance - Boxed Set (12 page)

‘Did anybody ever tell you you’ve got a pretty good big city technique, cowboy?’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Jessie,’ he said innocently. ‘I’m just trying to be helpful. I know lots about species behavior, you see
...’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’ll bet you do.’

His arms closed around her.

She could feel the hard length of his body pressing lightly against hers, feel the heat of him burning through the layers of clothing.

She looked into his eyes and saw the sudden gleam of topaz fire. Her throat went
dry;
all the teasing banter was gone.

A minute ago, the thought of his kiss had seemed an exciting possibility. Now, suddenly, it was an over
whelming reality.

‘Chad,’ she whispered, wait
.’

‘You don’t mean that, Jessie,’ he murmured. ‘I can see what you want in your eyes.’

She put her hands on his chest; she could feel the rapid thud of his heart and she knew it matched the racing beat of her own.

‘I don’t know what I want,’ she whispered. ‘We only just
met.’

Chad’s arms tightened around her.

‘Hell, we’ve lived a lifetime since we met. People who’ve known each other for weeks don’t know each other as well as we do.’

He was right. About what she wanted, anyway.

Even when she’d told herself she despised him, there had been a spark between them just waiting to flame into passion.

It was just that everything about the past couple of days had been outside the realm of reality—and reality was what would happen when they got out of these mountains. He would go back to his world and she would go back to hers and all this would be a bitter sweet memory.

‘None of this is real,' she said. 'Do you understand? It isn't real, and I can’t—I can't—'.’

There was a long silence. She knew that if he kissed her—if he kissed her, she would give herself up to the need burning inside her…

After what seemed forever, he let go of her and stepped back.

'Dinner,' he said briskly. 'And a fire. I promised you both and I haven’t delivered on either one.'

'Thank you,' she said softly.

He smiled at her. ‘For what? You haven’t tasted my beans and bannock yet. Or my Cherries Jubilee.’

She laughed softly. ‘I thought it was Peach Melba.’

He walked to the table where he'd dumped all the canned foods.

'Cherries Jubilee, Peach Melba, it doesn't matter.’ He looked back at her and smiled. 'I promise, after a few days with me, your tastes will never be the same again.’

And Jessica thought, watching him in silence, that he was probably right.

Chad lifted an ancient cast iron skillet from the fireplace and set it on the table with a flourish.

‘Just wait until you taste this, Jessie. I think you’ll agree the chefs outdone himself.’

‘The chef wouldn’t be a bit prejudiced, would he?’ Jessica sank into the chair opposite him and sniffed the steam rising from the skillet. ‘No matter what you say, it looks like beans to me.’

‘Come on, woman,’ he said, holding out a spoonful of the stuff to her, ‘where’s your sense of adventure? Try some.’

Dutifully, she did as he asked and then she sighed. ‘So much for the answer to the age-old riddle—what looks like beans, smells like beans, and tastes like beans?’

'
You’re hurting the chef’s feelings, Jess.’

She smiled as she dug her spoon into the skillet. ‘Forgive me. These are lunch beans as opposed to dinner beans or breakfast beans.’

‘These are Beans du Jour. The ones last night were Beans de la Maison and that batch this morning were an old O’Bryan specialty—Beans Ranchero.’

Jessica swallowed a mouthful of the brownish concoc
tion and nodded wisely. ‘I see. And what, pray tell, was the difference between them?’

Chad shrugged modestly. ‘A dollop of ketchup, some molasses from that jug we found in the general store, and a lot of imagination.’

She smiled as she broke off a piece of cold bannock. ‘Three cheers for the general store,’ she said, dipping the bannock into the skillet. ‘And three more for whoever taught you to cook. Don’t let it go to your head, doctor, but this trail bread’s not bad.’

‘Just wait until tonight when you finally taste what I can do with rainbow trout.’ He spooned up a mouthful of beans and chewed them carefully. ‘Not bad, if I say so myself. My dad would be proud of me.’

‘Was he the one who taught you to cook? Remind me to drop him a note of thanks when we get out of here.'

‘It was self-preservation on his part. Ranch cooks used to come and go; I guess he got tired of being the back-up cook for
us and the ranch hands. He taught me to lasso a calf and make stew at about the same time. By the time I was ten, I could find my way around a kitchen as easily as around a corral.’

‘It must be awful to lose your mother when you’re
little.’

Chad shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t remember any other kind of life,’ he said truthfully. ‘The only
time it made things rough was when I decided I wanted to specialize in wildlife biology. It meant spending a lot of time in the natural habitat of whatever species you’re studying—and I felt kind of guilty about leaving my dad on his own.’

‘But?’

‘But it worked out. He met my stepmother about then. Not that he’d have said anything to me. I guess it’s rough for parents when a kid leaves home.’

. ‘When I said I was moving to New York, you’d have thought the end of the world had arrived.’

‘Well, it had,’ Chad laughed. ‘I agree there. Why on earth would anyone want to live in a city?’

‘That’s exactly what my folks said. But New York’s the hub of everything. Well, I guess Chicago was closer, but all my life I dreamed about Manhattan—you know,
hav
ing
a loft in Soho and having a show of my photos at a Greenwich Village gallery.’

“’If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere,”’ he said. ‘Is that it?’

‘Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?’

Chad shrugged. ‘Maybe. I guess it depends on what you want out of life. I just can’t picture you spending the rest of yours photographing under
nourished models wearing stuff that looks like Halloween costumes.’

For an instant, Jessica’s eyes narrowed and then she let out a sighing breath.

‘You know something? I can’t picture it either.’

Chad grinned as he mopped up the last of the beans with a piece of bannock. ‘For a minute there, I thought I was going to get another lecture about the fashion business.’

‘Oh, I’m not knocking it. After all, this job’s been interesting. I’ve flown to some great places.
’

‘Oh yeah,’ he
said wryly, ‘you must love that!’

She grinned at him and then licked her spoon clean. ‘Well, the flying part isn’t, but I manage. And I’ve gotten to watch some pretty good photographers at work. I’ve learned more in the past couple of years than I could have in any photography course.’ She tilted her head to one side and gave
him an appraising look. ‘You know what would be great?’

‘‘Something other than beans for lunch
?’

Jessica laughed and pushed her plate away. ‘I was
thinking that maybe you could give me some pointers about animal photography. I got some great shots at the Bronx Zoo but I know I missed some things.’

'That's one place we'd never have met,' Chad said decisively. 'I don't believe in zoos.'

'Zoos help save species that are dying out.'

He gave a grudging nod.

'Okay. But in general, I'm not in favor of animals kept in cages no matter the size of the cage.’

'No, I'm not, either.' A faint smile touched her lips. '
But how else would I have ever seen the most gorgeous wolf cubs a few months back… What?'

‘Wolves are my specialty. I'm working on a theory of pack structure
...’

‘
Wolves? You study them? Where?'

Are you telling me you study wolves at the Bronx Zoo?’

‘Wherever they live. In Alaska and Yosemite and Isle Royale…'

'That's wonderful! I have some photos I'd love you to see, pictures of the pups playing…'

'I'd love to see them—once we get out of here.'

Reality, again.

Jessica nodded.

'Chad?
’ She put down her spoon and looked across the table at him. ‘Are we trapped here?’ she asked quietly. ‘We haven’t talked about it, but you know my ankle’s fine now and you still haven’t said anything about moving on.’

‘I keep hoping for a break in the weather. But each time it stops snowing, the clouds build up over the mountain and a new front moves in. There’s no way of telling how much snow’s going to fall, Jessie, and if we were on the mountain when a heavy storm
hit...’
He reached for her hand and covered it with his. ‘At least here we have shelter and food and firewood.’

‘Yes,
but...
well, no matter how we joke, the beans won’t last forever. And that fireplace consumes more dead branches than any human being could collect once the weather gets colder. And it will get colder, won’t it?’

‘Yeah, a little,’ he said, thinking of the sub-zero winters in these mountains
, and the endless snow. ‘But if hermits can manage, so can we. The creek’s
full
of fish and I can set snares for rabbits and squirrels, and tell you they’re sirloin steaks and chicken...’ She gave him a hesitant smile and his hand tightened on hers. ‘We’ll be fine, Jess. I promise.’

She sighed and touched her finger to a piece of bannock. ‘I’ve never felt
so...
so cut off from the world. I’m just grateful my folks are on vacation. Imagine how awful it would be if they were worrying about me.’ A furrow appeared between her eyes as she looked at Chad. ‘You really don’t think they could have heard about the crash?’

‘When a light plane goes down with two people on board, it doesn’t make much more than the local papers.’

‘But there’ll still be search parties looking for us, won’t there?’

‘Of course,’ he said with more enthusiasm than he felt. His eyes searched hers. ‘Hey,’ he said lightly, ‘is this what an all-bean diet leads to?’ A smile flitted across her face and quickly vanished. ‘Or is it
M&M withdrawal that caused this serious case of the blahs?’

To his relief, her smile broadened. ‘I’ve been meaning to bring that up,’ she said. ‘If you’re so great at survival techniques, how come you haven’t snared me a
handful of them?’

‘
I'm holding out for Reese's Pieces.'

She laughed and the tension flowed out of her face. ‘You know, cowboy, if I had to find myself stranded like this, I’m glad it’s
with you.’

‘I was just thinking the same thing, Jessie. There’s nobody I’d rather be here with.’

The laughter was gone in an instant, chased away by the caressing sound in Chad’s voice. Jessica’s eyes lifted to his; the message she saw in their hazel depths made the breath catch in her throat.

‘Jessie
...’

She pulled her hand free of his and got to her feet, almost stumbling as she pushed her chair back from the table. The air between them was suddenly thick with tension as it had been all too often in the past couple of days.

She told herself she knew the reason for it.

After all, they were trapped in an enforced intimacy that had intensified normal feelings and reactions. That was all it was. That was all it could
be…

Be honest with yourself, Jessica!

The truth went deeper than that.

If she gave in to what she wanted, what they both wanted, she would miss him forever once this was over…
And it had to be that way, didn't it? Their worlds would never, ever cross, and to hell with all that nonsense about the Staten Island ferry.

She heard him push away from the table and she moved quickly towards the fireplace.

‘Jessie,’ he said again.

‘I mean, if I had to pick a man to be lost in the wilderness with,’ she said in a brightly pitched voice, ‘I’d certainly pick someone
who knew all about survival…'

‘Damn it, Jessie,’ he said, ‘that’s not what I meant.’

‘I’ll
always be grateful to you,’ she said, fighting against the desire to turn and wrap her arms around him. ‘Always.’

Her
words brought him to a dead stop, just as she'd wanted.

That was what she wanted, wasn't it?

The stool clattered as he pushed it aside. ‘I’m going down to the creek,’ he said. ‘It may take a while to catch our dinner.’

Jessica
spun around. His words were simple, but there was a rawness to them that almost broke her heart.

‘Chad?' He swung toward her. 'Chad…' She cleared her throat.
‘I...
I’m really looking forward to those trout,’ she said finally.

‘Great,’ he mumbled, pulling on his
jacket. 'Yes,’ she said, eager to dissipate the sudden tension in the cabin, ‘in fact, if you catch some, I’ll do the cooking tonight. I can make a mean trout
amandine
.'

She waited. And waited. Finally, he smiled.

'Well, I can provide the trout. You're on your own for the almonds.' He paused. 'So, you like to cook?'

'Truth is, I
don’t do much cooking.'

'Yeah.' His expression changed.
'There must be guys lined up ten deep outside your door, fighting for the chance to take you to dinner.’

‘No,’ she said, so quickly that she startled both of them. ‘I mean, I usually
order in. Chinese. Thai. Indian…'

Chad’s eyes met hers. ‘Really? What’s the matter with those New York guys, anyway?’

She smiled slowly. ‘Nothing, I guess. I—I just haven’t found anybody
who...’
Her words trailed off and she cleared her throat. ‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Is there—is there somebody special who treats you to home-cooked meals when you get back from the snowy wastes of   Alaska?’

‘No,’ he said simply, ‘there’s nobody.’ They looked at each other and then he smiled. ‘And you’d better not let an Alaskan hear you say that. It’s not the end of the world, you know.’

‘It is, to me. Endless snow…
’

‘But it’s not
all like that,’ he said quickly. ‘Parts of it are primitive, yes, but the mountains are beautiful, and the tundra is…' He shook his head. 'Besides, there are towns and cities.’

‘New York is a city,’ she answered. ‘Anything else is an impostor.’

He scowled. ‘Have you ever tried living any place else?’

‘Why would I want to?
No other place has New York’s facilities or its opportunities.’

‘Or its pollution or its crime rate or its crowds.’

‘There’s not a city in the world that doesn’t have those things.’

‘Exactly!’

Just listen to him, she thought. So all-knowing. So arrogant. So—so pompously self-assured.

It made her angry. Hell, it made her furious.
Couldn’t he even imagine some other kind of life?

‘So much for all the cities of the world,’ she said. 'They're nice places to visit but you wouldn’t want to live in one. ‘Is that pretty much it?’

‘If you understood my work, Jessie, you’d
realize that I have to be in the field. I’m not a lab man. That’s not my
thing...’