Читать книгу All Grown Up - Джанис Мейнард, Janice Maynard - Страница 8

Glaring, she thrust out her chin and fisted her hands. “I absolutely will not be locked up in this house with you. No way, no how.”

He shrugged. “I promised Gram I’d stay the weekend and get you oriented. But if you’re worried about being stuck and alone with me, we can leave right now. She’ll be really disappointed….”

He was goading her, and not even trying to hide it. Frustration knotted her belly, even as her recalcitrant imagination conjured up images of the two of them entwined beneath one of Gram’s handmade quilts. “I’m not worried about myself. You’re the one who needs to get back to work.”

“What do you propose we do? I drove the Porsche. You’re in a Miata. If we stay here any length of time, neither of us has a prayer of making it back out to the interstate.”

His expression was veiled, unreadable. Was this some kind of game where Sam waited to see if she would cry uncle? She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Fine,” she said abruptly. “The weather doesn’t bother me. But I’d like my bags now, if you don’t mind. So I can get settled in.” She handed him her keys.

She was pretty sure his jaw dropped a millimeter. Clearly he thought she’d go running back to the city. But Annalise Wolff never backed down from a challenge.

He scowled. “Are you sure about this, Princess? If the power goes out, we’ll be roughing it.”

Annalise gulped inwardly. Her idea of rustic was not staying on the concierge floor at the Four Seasons. “I’m sure there’s a generator…right?”

“Of course. But it won’t run forever. Did you even bring any warm clothes besides your coat?” His gaze felt like a caress as he did a visual inventory of her silk blouse and thin slacks.

“I have everything I need. Do you want me to help you retrieve the suitcases?”

Her snarky question deepened his frown. “I think I can manage.”

She watched through the window and grinned as Sam opened the trunk and did a double take. Hiding her smile, she stayed out of the way while he made three trips in a row, grousing audibly at the mounting pile of luggage.

When he was finally finished, he closed the door behind him and locked it, looking for all the world like a sexy abominable snowman. He shrugged out of his thick jacket and ran a hand through his hair, sending droplets of water flying as melting snowflakes dampened the floor.

Annalise leaned against the wall, trying not to go weak in the knees when his muscles flexed beneath the fabric of a thermal weave shirt in a deep rust color that complemented his eyes. “Thank you.”

He tossed the wet jacket over the back of a chair. “Does the term high maintenance mean anything to you?”

She shrugged. “I plan to be here for several weeks. Am I supposed to write you a check for excess baggage?”

He stared at her, a long, intense clashing of gazes that was unmistakably sexual. “You have a smart mouth.”

“You have an arrogant attitude.”

The ruddy tinge that colored his cheekbones gave her more satisfaction than it should have. “What’s in all those bags?” he asked, his stance combative.

“Books, laptop, snacks, lingerie…” She gestured toward the pieces of her Louis Vuitton matched set. Uncle Victor had given it to her as a graduation present. She was spoiled, she freely admitted it. But that didn’t give the insufferable Sam Ely a right to criticize.

“Snacks?” He leaned against the opposite wall, adopting a pose that mirrored hers. Barely three feet separated them, and although the foyer was definitely chilly after Sam had been in and out the door several times, Annalise was not cold at all.

“I have a weakness for chocolate. So sue me. The stuff I picked up in Lucerne after Christmas is better than sex.”

“Then you’ve been having the wrong kind of sex.”

This time it was her jaw that dropped. Her thighs tightened, and she was pretty sure her nipples were playing peek-a-boo through the silk of her blouse…though she wasn’t about to check. Surreptitiously, she lifted her folded arms. “Is flirtation your default setting? Or do you really expect me to argue the point?”

“You’re right,” he said smoothly, his voice slow as syrup. “That was an inappropriate remark between colleagues.”

“I’m not your colleague,” she shot back. “I work for your grandparents.”

Sam straightened and closed the distance between them. “You have to forgive me for the past, Annalise. Otherwise we’re going to be at each other’s throats forever.”

She looked at the tanned skin of his jaw and below…saw the way warm, masculine flesh disappeared into the neckline of his henley shirt, revealing a faint dusting of hair where the top two buttons gaped open. Her heart thudded in her chest and her palms were damp.

Licking her lips, she looked past him to the antique grandfather clock that held a place of honor flanking the foot of a curved staircase. “I’m surprised you haven’t ever found that paragon of womanhood you described to me. You know, all meek and quiet and docile.” Saying the words aloud revived the awful memory of that evening. Her chest hurt.

She heard him curse and felt big, warm hands settle on her shoulders. “Look at me, Princess. I’m sorry. All that crap I said to you that day was just that. I was babbling. Trying to get myself out of a sticky situation. Yes, I was attracted to you. But you had a crush, that’s all. That guff I spouted about waiting for a man to make the first move…well, I guess I wanted to make sure you’d never try that stunt again. I didn’t want you to end up hurt because some jerk took you up on your offer and then dumped you.”

His breath was warm on her face. She dared not look into his eyes. She felt far too fragile, and that really pissed her off, because Annalise Wolff was not fragile. She’d grown up in a monster of a house with two brothers, three male cousins, an uncle and a father. Any girly ways had been hammered out of her at a young age.

She could climb trees, play football, talk cars and quote sports statistics with the best of them. And if the need arose, she knew how to fell a man with one quick move.

What she hadn’t quite mastered, though, was how a woman could resist when the man she’d wanted for years was so close you could lift your lips and touch your mouth to his.

With every fiber of her being, she yearned to move against him, rest her head on his shoulder and feel his big masculine arms enfold her. But that was exactly why she couldn’t.

She was weak when it came to Sam Ely. Weak and dreadfully predictable. So he was handsome, so what? The fact that he was sexy and Southern and so damned funny and smart shouldn’t be an issue.

Any notion she’d ever had of snagging Sam had disappeared when she’d embarrassed herself with a youthful, impassioned declaration that was ill-timed to say the least. Sam might pretend he’d only been letting her down easy, but she had a hunch that in their charged encounter way back then, he had been speaking the truth.

Sam’s perfect woman was not Annalise. Not by a long shot.

With a strangled mutter of protest, she eluded his embrace, picked up two small bags and headed toward the kitchen. Refusing to look at him, she raised her voice as she walked away. “I’d like another cup of coffee, and then I’d appreciate it if you would show me my room.”

Sam grabbed up most of the rest of the bags and followed her, grinding his teeth in frustration. He’d apologized, damn it. What more could he do? He wasn’t about to crawl. Especially since he hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he ought to get a medal for doing the right thing. Annalise was one of the most sensual, beautiful women he had ever known. If he’d been a different kind of man—or not suitably intimidated by his father and hers—he would have said to hell with it and taken her up on her offer.

He’d certainly thought about it often enough over the years. But he’d been raised to adhere to a gentlemanly code of conduct, and that code precluded a thirty-year-old man from having sex with one not-quite-mature college graduate who’d been sheltered more than most.

He wasn’t the bad guy in this scenario. So why did he get the distinct impression that Annalise Wolff would like to consign him to the devil?

Striding through the kitchen and into the hallway beyond, he tried to avoid looking at her. The scent of her perfume, something light and beguiling, mingled with the smell of coffee.

The bedroom that had been prepared for Annalise was as cold as ice. He rolled his eyes in disgust and opened all the vents. Evidently the housekeeping service his grandmother utilized had missed a few key points about dates.

Annalise startled him when she appeared at his side, her arms wrapped around her waist protectively. “It’s like a meat locker in here,” she said. “Are you sure the heat’s working at all?”

He hefted her large suitcase onto a large cedar-lined chest at the foot of the bed. “For now? Yes. But I’ll kick the thermostat up a few notches to be sure. It wouldn’t kill you to put on a sweater.”

“The cold doesn’t seem to be bothering you.”

“I have a fast metabolism. And quite a few more pounds of insulation than you do.” He paused, uncharacteristically uncertain. Of himself. Of her. “Last chance,” he said. “If we leave now, I think we can still make it back to town.”

Annalise stared at him, eyes wide. “I’ve cleared my calendar,” she said quietly. “This project deserves my full attention. Even with bad weather, there is a lot I can do to keep the ball rolling. Measuring and sketching alone will keep me occupied for several days. But I understand if you need to go back to Charlottesville.”

He couldn’t read her expression. Weak late-afternoon light, muted by the snow, filtered in through lace sheers, casting dappled shadows on the hardwood floor. “I can’t leave you here alone,” he said, not really wanting to. “Anything could happen.”

She shrugged, glimmers of something disturbing in her eyes. “I’m more resilient than you think. You’re not responsible for me.”

He allowed himself to touch her briefly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I promised Gram I’d get you started. There’s a lot of info I need to share. So I guess we’re staying.”

He was shocked that she allowed the fleeting touch without protest. A tiny smile kicked up one corner of her mouth. “I guess we are.”

At that moment, the lights flickered. Annalise looked at him with apprehension. “Already?”

“It’s probably just the wind at this point. Although, to be honest, the power isn’t all that reliable on a good week. And by the way, the plans include undergrounding all the utilities. Not only for occasions like today, but to restore the original look of the place.”

“Holy cow, Sam. That will cost a fortune.”

Coming from the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in America, her amazement was telling. “Yeah,” he said, grinning. “But I’m an architectural purist. What can I say?”

The lights flickered a second time, galvanizing him into action. “I need to go bring in as much firewood as I can. If the power goes out, we’ll camp out in the living room.”

“That’s behind the kitchen, right?”

“Yes. The two rooms share a chimney. Fortunately, that section of the house has already been finished. If you don’t mind, how about making us a couple of omelets while I get the wood. If we do lose power, it would be nice to have one last hot meal.”

Annalise blanched.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not handy in the kitchen,” she said with a wry, self-deprecating twist of her mouth.

“Nothing fancy,” he assured her. “There’s lunch meat in the fridge. Just chop up some ham.”

She grimaced, and for a split second he witnessed in Annalise a shocking vulnerability he had never seen before. “I’m serious, Sam. I don’t cook.”

The expression on her face seemed to indicate she was awaiting his derision. And although he was certainly incredulous, he tried to hide his surprise. “I guess that makes sense. Growing up without a mother must have been tough.”

“I wanted the chef to teach me. When I was thirteen. But Daddy said it was inappropriate for me to spend time in the kitchen when I could be learning Latin and Greek. He has odd ideas about things like that.”

“And in college?”

“I lived in the dorm. Ate in the cafeteria. When I got out on my own, it wasn’t an issue. I order a lot of take-out, and when I entertain, I hire a caterer.”

He was momentarily speechless.

Annalise lifted her chin. “I know your grandmother is a fabulous cook. And I’m sure your mother is, as well. But if that’s what you were expecting, you’re out of luck. I planned on eating a lot of cereal and canned tuna while I’m here.”

Sam inhaled, feeling as though he was stepping through a minefield. “It’s not important, Annalise. You caught me off guard, that’s all. I have this impression of you as being Superwoman, and I suppose I thought there was nothing you couldn’t do.”

Her tense shoulders relaxed. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

He tugged her hair. “I can be nice on occasion. When I’m not continually provoked.”

“Is that a jab at me?”

He lifted an eyebrow innocently. “Would I do that?”

They laughed softly in unison, and he felt an imperceptible shift in the parameters that had governed the recent cold war between them.

Annalise waved her hands. “Go get the wood. I’ll make some sandwiches. And I do know how to heat soup.”

“Well, there you go,” he said. “What more do we need?”

He found himself whistling as he carried armload after armload of wood into the house from the pile beside the barn. Something inside him felt charged with anticipation, though if he’d been called on to identify the odd feeling, he wouldn’t have been able to pin it down. For the moment, he was content to enjoy the prospect of an evening with a beautiful woman.

If they had to rely on the fireplace for everything, the supply of logs would dwindle rapidly. So he labored until his arms ached and his back protested. When he finally was satisfied that they had enough fuel for the immediate future, he replaced the tarp covering the woodpile and prayed they wouldn’t need to revisit it anytime soon.

As he returned to the house, a rush of warm air greeted him along with the sound of Adele’s voice filling the hallways at high volume. He found Annalise singing along, oblivious to his entrance as she bent over the kitchen table, arranging two place mats at perfect angles and aligning silverware.

It shouldn’t have surprised him to see a high-end iPod dock. Those suitcases had been heavy enough to contain a whole range of electronics.

He waved an arm, hoping to catch her peripheral vision, but she jumped anyway, clutching her chest. “You scared me.” She turned the volume down several notches. “Are you ready to eat?”

He was still wearing his jacket, which was now really wet, so he hung it over a chair and put the chair near a vent. Annalise set an opened beer and a bowl of tomato soup in front of him and added a small plate laden with a sad-looking grilled cheese. It wasn’t exactly burnt, but she had used too much cheese, and the excess had leaked out the side and turned crispy brown.

She hovered until he took a bite of each offering. Then in silence, she brought her own dishes to the table and sat down. With the heat from the stove, the room was finally warm. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam watched her eat. She had tied her hair back in a thick ponytail, revealing a neck begging to be nibbled by some lucky man.

Sam took a swig of beer, swallowed and set the bottle on the table with a muffled thunk. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at her. “So tell me, Annalise. Is there some guy back in Charlottesville who’s going to be missing you while you’re away?”

She gave him a wary, sideways glance. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment. I’ve been slammed at work, and frankly, the last man I went out with was a little too needy. I don’t have time for all that romantic crap.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Crap?”

“You know. Texting twenty times a day. Long dinners and hand-holding in the park. Seriously, the man was a walking Hallmark card.”

Sam grinned. “A lot of women like that kind of thing.”

Annalise frowned at him. “I don’t cook and I’m not into romance. Anything else you want to find fault with?”

“Calm down, Princess. I’m not criticizing. I happen to think you’re a fantastically talented person. I was impressed with the way you organized that carnival for the new school in Burton.” The Wolff family was in the process of funding and building a brand-new school at the foot of Wolff Mountain so the K-8 students wouldn’t have to be bussed so far away.

She narrowed her gaze as if trying to discern sarcasm in his words. “I thought I saw you there.”

“I didn’t speak to you because you were so busy. Like a general in charge of an army. Everything went smoothly as far as I could see.”

She nodded, pleasure lighting her face. “The community wanted to be able to invest in the school project financially. And they did…in a big way. The carnival raised a ton of grassroots money.”

“You juggle a lot of balls simultaneously. I’ve noticed that about you.” His office and Annalise’s were in the same building in downtown Charlottesville. They rarely crossed paths during the day, but they ran in the same social circles and often attended the same charitable events.

“I like to stay busy,” she said. She stood and began taking dirty dishes to the sink. Sam had insisted on installing a dishwasher for his grandmother a long time ago, and had even rigged it so that it was virtually unnoticeable in the period kitchen. Annalise loaded the plates and utensils with brisk, efficient movements.

When she was done, she wiped her hands on a gingham dish towel and leaned back against the counter. “Can we do the tour now? I’m eager to get started.”

Sam swallowed hard and wished he hadn’t finished his beer. Was she doing it on purpose, or was he simply reading into her words his own sexual agenda. “Fine,” he croaked.

Annalise grabbed a pen and notebook from the sideboard—she’d obviously been jotting ideas while he’d labored in the snow. “Where do we begin?”

He sighed inwardly, only now beginning to realize what he’d signed on for. Cabin fever, most definitely. And an unfortunately unrequited dose of healthy lust and attraction.

They walked room to room as Sam talked and Annalise scribbled frantically. Once, peeking over her shoulder, he grinned to see that her handwriting resembled a doctor’s…sharp and dark and illegible. Every now and then she’d stop and stare, seeming to be visualizing what might be. She talked to herself beneath her breath as she studied angles and walls and lighting.

After an hour, Sam ushered her back to the living room. Holding a match to the already prepared firewood and tinder, he waved Annalise to one of the two leather armchairs that flanked the fireplace. “We might as well be warm and comfortable while we go over the rest of what Gram wanted me to tell you.”

Annalise curled up in the comfy seat and tucked her legs beneath her. “You don’t know how exciting it is to have carte blanche with a project like this.”

He joined her, yawning as the warmth from the fire caught him unawares. He’d headed to bed after one the night before, and the alarm had been set for six. Even though having to stay at Sycamore Farm longer than he had planned would play havoc with his schedule, at this particular moment, he couldn’t find it in his heart to care.

Contentment rolled over him in a wave, and his eyes drifted shut.

Annalise was taken aback to hear her host emit a soft snore. She turned to face him and felt a sharp jab in the vicinity of her heart. His legs were propped on an ottoman, and his hands were tucked behind his head. With his big body outstretched, the shirt he was wearing rode up at his belt line, exposing a tantalizing inch of flat, male abdomen.

Annalise was a tall woman, but Sam was taller still, giving her an odd and incomprehensible sensation of delicate femininity. Which was bizarre to say the least, because although she loved fashion and accessories as much or more than the next woman, she wouldn’t characterize herself as feminine in the traditional sense.

She was blunt and bold and often spoke her mind when she’d be better served holding her tongue. Arguing came naturally to her, and even as adults, she and her brothers and cousins could go at it at a moment’s notice. Not everyone regarded bickering and merciless teasing as an acceptable pastime, though, and with the advent of new family members, the squabbling had been reduced to more socially acceptable standards.

The testosterone-fueled environment Annalise had grown up in had forced her to develop a thick skin. Regrettably, the only person who had ever really had the ability to pierce it at will was presently sitting a few feet away from her.

She wasn’t very good at being still, though the house was certainly peaceful. Inactivity provided too much time for introspection, and Annalise was seldom comfortable with that much self-awareness. She preferred to forge ahead and make up the answers along the way.

Gnawing her lip in indecision, she set her notebook on a side table and quietly stood. Already the fire needed another log. Stealthily, she removed the fire screen, lifted a two-foot piece of oak, kneeled and dropped it carefully onto the flaming embers.

Though she’d never had the opportunity to be a Girl Scout, her brothers had taught her all sorts of skills in the forest. As young children they’d tramped around Wolff Mountain and even invented a club, six members strong. The Wolff Mountain gang.

She paused, fire poker in hand, and felt the sting of tears. Where had this sense of melancholy come from? Was it because, one at a time, each member of the old “gang” seemed to be finding happiness? Healing? Peace?

She was thrilled for her cousins and for her big brother, Devlyn. But where did that leave her and Larkin? Would they always be odd men out?

“Do you see something I don’t see?” Sam spoke from behind her, startling her so badly she dropped the poker.

She picked it up, rearranged the logs and replaced the screen. At last, she turned to face Sam. Her feelings were too close to the surface, and she feared saying something stupid. “Just enjoying the blaze,” she said lightly.

He sat up, yawning. “Sorry to crash on you like that. It’s been a long week.”

“Since you quizzed me, I suppose it’s okay for me to ask if you have a lady friend who will expect you home tomorrow?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m between relationships at the moment,” he said, his voice muffled.

Annalise was well aware that Sam Ely was considered a “catch.” Over the years she had noted the stream of females flowing through his life. Noted and been silently wounded by it. “What happened to the last one?”

His head lifted and he resumed his earlier position. But although his body language signaled relaxation, his gaze was guarded. “We differed on some important issues. Politics. Religion.”

“And that was enough to forego sex with Diana Salyers?”

He grinned. “You know a lot about me for someone who hates my guts.”

Annalise sniffed. “You paraded her around all over Charlottesville. Kind of hard to miss. But I’ll admit that I didn’t know it was over. You strike me as being the kind of guy who could overlook things like that.”

He grinned. “Touché. All right. If you must know, I found out she doesn’t want to have kids.”