Two Alone (22 page)

The bureaucrats deferentially welcomed Cooper and
Rusty
back to civilization and escorted them past the squirming, shouting wall of reporters whose behavior was anything but civilized. They bombarded them with questions fired as rapidly as machine-gun bullets.

The dazed survivors were escorted through one of the bu
il
ding's employee entrances, down a corridor, and into a private suite of offices that had been provided for their use.

"Your father has been notified, Miss Carlson."

"Thank you very much."

"He was delighted to hear that you are well," the smiling official told her. "Mr. Landry, is there anyone we should notify' for you?'

"No."

Rusty
had turned to him, curious to hear his reply. He had never mentioned a family, so she had assumed that there was none. It seemed terribly sad
t
o her that no one had been waiting for Cooper's return. She longed to reach out and lay a compassionate hand along his cheek. But the officials were crowded around them.

One s
t
epped forward. "I understand you were the only
t
wo to survive the crash."

"Yes. The others died immediately."

"We've notified their families. Some are outside. They want to speak with you." Rusty's face turned as white as the knuckles of her fingers, which were still linked with Cooper's. "But that can wait," the man said hastily, sensing her distress. "Can you give us a clue as to the cause of the crash?"

"
I
'm not a pilot," Cooper said shortly. "The storm was a factor, I'm sure. The pilots did everything they could."

"Then you wouldn't blame the crash on them?" the man probed.

"May I have a glass of water, please?" Rusty asked softly.

"And something to eat," Cooper said in that same clipped tone. "We haven't had any food this morning. Not even coffee."

"Surely, right away." Someone was dispatched to order them a breakfast.

"And you'd better bring in the proper authorities. I've got the deaths of two men to report." "What two men?"

"The ones I killed." Everyone froze. He had succeeded in winning their undivided attention. "I'm sure someone should he notified. But first, how about that coffee?" Cooper's voice rang with authority and impatience. It was almost amusing how it galvanized everyone into action. For
t
he next hour, the
offi
cials flapped around them like headless chickens.

They were brought huge breakfasts of steak and eggs. More than any
t
hing on the tray Rusty enjoyed the fresh orange juice. She couldn't drink enough of it. As
t
hey ate, they answered the endless rounds of questions. Pat and Mike were brought in to verify
t
he location of the cabin relative to the crash site. While the weather was still cooperating, crews were dispatched to view the wreckage and exhume the bodies that Cooper had buried.

In the mids
t
of the chaos a telephone receiver was thrust into Rusty's hand and her father
’
s voice boomed into her ear. "
Rusty
, thank God. Are you all right?"

Tears filled her eyes. For a moment she couldn't speak. "I'm fine. Fine. My leg feels much better."

"Your leg! What happened to your leg? Nobody told me anything about your leg."

She explained as best she could in brief, disjointed phrases. "But it's fine, really."

"I'm not taking your word for it. Don't worry about anything," he told her. "I'll handle everything from here. You'll be brought to L.A. tonight and I'll be at the airport to meet
you.
It's a miracle that you survived."

She glanced at Cooper, and said softly, "Yes, a miracle."

Around noon
t
hey were taken across the street to a motel and assigned rooms in which to shower and change into clothes provided by the Canadian government.

Ac the door to her room, Rus
ty
' reluctantly let go of Cooper's arm. She couldn't bear to let him out of her sight. She felt alien, apart. None of this seemed real. Everything and everybody swam toward her like distorted faces out of a dream. She had difficulty matching words to concepts, livery thing was strange—except Cooper. Cooper alone was her reality.

He seemed no more pleased wi
t
h
t
he arrangements than she, but it would hardly be sui
t
able for them to share a motel room. He squeezed her hand and said, "I'll be right next door."

He watched her enter her room and safely close and lock
t
he door before he wen
t
t
o his own. Once inside, he dropped into the only chair and covered his face with his hands.

"Now what?" he asked the four walls.

If only he had held off for one more night. If only she hadn't asked that question of him yes
t
erday morning after breakfast. If only she hadn't been so desirable in
t
he first place. If o
nl
y they hadn't been on the same airplane. If onl
y
it hadn'
t
crashed. If only some of the others had survived and they hadn't been alone.

He could come up with thousands of "if onlys," and the bottom line would still be that they'd made love all day yesterday and last night until the wee hours.

He didn't regret it—-not a single breathless second of i
t
.

But he didn't know how in the hell he was going to handle it from here. Rightfully, he should pretend chat it hadn'
t
happened and ignore the shining recognition of mutual passion in her eyes. But that was just it: he couldn't ignore her melting looks.

Nor could he callously disregard her dependency on him. The rules they'd laid down in
t
he cabin were still in effect. She hadn'
t
acclimated yet. She was apprehensive. She had just survived a trauma. He couldn't subjec
t
her to another one so soon. She wasn'
t
rough like him; she had
t
o be created with delicacy and tact. After
t
he rough rime he'd given her, he thought she deserved that much consideration.

Of course he was reconciled to having to turn his back on her. He wished she would turn hers on him first. That would relieve him of the responsibility of hurting her.

Bur dammit, she wouldn't- And he couldn't. Not yet. Not until it was absolutely necessary for them to part. Until then, even though he knew it was foolhardy, he'd go on being her Lancelot, her protector and lover.

God, he loved the role.

It was just too damn bad it was temporary.

The hot shower felt wonderful and worked to revive her physically and mentally. .She scrubbed her hair with shampoo twice and rinsed i
t
until it squeaked. When she stepped out of the tub, she felt almost normal.

But she wasn't. Normally she wouldn't have noticed how soft the morel towels were. She would have taken soft towels for granted. She was changed in o
t
her ways, too. When she propped her foot on
t
he edge of the tub to dry, she noticed the unsightly, jagged scar running down her shin. She bore other scars. Deeper ones. They were indelibly engraved on her soul. Rusty Carlson would never be the same.

The clothes she'd been given were inexpensive and way oversi
z
e, but they made her feel human and feminine again, flu-shoes fit, but they felt odd and unusually light on her feet. It was the first
t
ime
in
weeks that she'd
w
orn anything but h
i
kin
g
boots. Almost a week at the lodge and almost two since
t
he crash,

Two weeks? Is tha
t
all it had been?

When she emerged from the motel room, Cooper was waiting outside her door. He had showered and shaved. His hair was still damp and well combed. The new clothes looked out of place on his rangy body.

The
y
approached each other warily, shyly, almost apologetically Then
t
heir eyes met,
t
he familiarity sparked. And something else, coo.

"You're different," Rusty whispered.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not. I might look differen
t
, bu
t
I haven'
t
changed."

He cook her hand and drew her aside, giving the people who would have rushed to cluster around them a "hack off" glance, They moved ou
t
of hearing dis
t
ance. Cooper said, "In all this confusion.
I
haven't had a chance to tell you something."

Clean and smelling like soap and shaving cream, mou
t
h giving off
t
h
e
fresh scent of peppermint, he was very handsome. Her eyes moved hungrily over him, unable to take in this new Cooper. "What?"

He leaned closer. "I love the way your tongue feels flicking over my navel,"

Rusty sucked in a
star
t
led brea
t
h. Her eyes darted toward the group that was huddled a discreet distance away. They were all wa
t
ching them curiously. "You're outrageous."

"And
I
don't give a damn." He inched even closer. "Let's give them something
t
o speculate about." He curled his hand around her throat and placed his thumb beneath her chin to lilt i
t
up.

Then he kissed her unsparingly. He took what he wanted and gave more than she would have had
t
he audacity
to
ask for. Nor was he in any hurry. His tongue plumbed her mouth slowly and deliciously in a purely sexual rhythm.

When he finally pulled away, he growled, "I want to kiss you like that all over, but," he shot a look in the direction of their astounded observers, "that'll have to wait."

They were driven back to the airport, but Rusty never remembered leaving
t
he motel. Cooper's kiss had entranced her.

The hours of the afternoon dragged on forever. They were catered another meal. Rusty ordered an enormous chef's salad. She was starved for cold, crisp, fresh vegetables, but found that she could only eat half of it.

Her lack of appetite was partially due to the breakfast she'd eaten only hours before, but mostly to her anxiety over
t
he interrogation she and Cooper were pur through regarding the deaths of Quinn and Reuben Gawrylow.

A court reporter was brought in to take down Cooper's testimony. He told how they had met the two recluses, were given shelter by them, promised rescue, and then were attacked. "Our lives were in danger," he said.
"1
had no choice. It was self-defense."

Rusty gauged the reactions of the policemen and saw that they weren't convinced. They murmured among themselves and kepi casting suspicious glances
t
oward Cooper. They began asking him about his stint in Vietnam and brought up the fact that he was a former POW. They asked him to recount the events leading to his escape from the prison camp. He refused, saying that it had no bearing on this issue.

"But you were forced
t
o...to..."

"Kill?" Cooper asked with ruthless candor. "Yes. I killed a lot of them on my way out of there. And I'd do it again."

Telling looks were exchanged. Someone coughed uncomfortab
ly.

"He's leaving out a vital point," Rusty said abruptly. Every eye in the room turned to her.

"Rusty, no," he said. His eyes speared into hers in a silent plea for caution and discretion. "You don'
t
have to."

She looked back at him lovingly. "Yes, I do. You're
t
rying to spare me. I appreciate it. But I can't let them think you killed those two men without strong motivation." She faced her listeners. "They, the Gawrylows, were going
t
o kill Cooper and... and keep me."

Shock registered on the faces encircling the table where she was seated with Cooper. "How do you know that, Ms. Carlson?"

"She just knows it, okay? You might suspect me of lying, but you have no reason to think she is."