Читать книгу Chinook, Wine and Sink Her - Morgan Q O'Reilly - Страница 8

Chapter 3

“What about the generator? Are you done with it?”

Damn that voice of his. She didn’t want the thrills coursing through her body at the sound of it. Didn’t need him interrupting her peaceful existence just when she was relaxing and no longer dreading each boat floating down the river.

Creed stood on the other side of the screened window, his head barely clearing the rafters of the eaves, peering into the cabin.

“Let me check.” She turned toward the box in the corner and checked the dials then looked at her laptop on the table. “I need it to run maybe another thirty minutes. My batteries aren’t quite fully charged.”

Creed’s snort made her look up at him with a frown.

“Can’t leave civilization behind for a few weeks?”

Before she could stop herself, she straightened and with fists on hips snapped out her response. “Unlike you, I’m out here to do a job. I need the laptop for my work. It’s more efficient to just type everything in from the get-go.”

He threw up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get your dander up again.”

Linnet forced herself to release her tension with a huge exhale. Blow it out. She was out here to get some perspective on life while doing routine data gathering. Mustn’t take offense at every hint of criticism. You’re too touchy. Just relax and go with the flow. You know your job, now learn the people skills to go along with it. Re-learn.

Reminding herself of the words her supervisor had spouted didn’t help a whole lot, but it did help her back down. “Would you like a cup of cocoa or tea while waiting for the generator to finish?”

That put the wide friendly grin back on his face. “I’d love some. Cocoa that is.”

“Bring your mug. I’ll heat the water.”

Creed ducked to move from under the low eves and she sighed. The man was simply overwhelming.

As a wildlife biologist, she worked primarily with men, when she worked with people at all. During the summer, she spent most of her time outdoors and had worked toward positions just like this one. Frank Newbauer, her boss, had made it crystal clear, this was a test. If she did well here, she’d be given more remote assignments.

As far as she was concerned, her entire career depended on doing this right. Failure meant office work and small jobs in town. Either desk work or public relations. Neither appealed to her.

Through the screen door she heard Creed and Manley approaching. She lit the burner on the stove and felt a glow of satisfaction as she set the kettle over the flame. Lighting the stove in the closed-up cabin had made her nervous. Now she had plenty of air flow to do it safely.

“Wow.” The quiet word from Creed made her glance his way.

She saw a look of awe on his face as he looked around.

“George gave you permission to make all these changes?”

She shrugged. “After my first week up here I drove back to Fairbanks, told him what I wanted to do and he said he was cool with it.” In fact he’d had sort of a confused expression on his face as if he’d only just realized the cabin needed some work. “Didn’t think the owner would mind. Do you know who owns this piece of land anyway?”

Creed gave her an odd look, as if considering his words. The moment passed and then he shrugged. “I do. I mean, I own it.”

Mouth open, anything she might have to say froze in her throat. Linnet stared at him and felt all heat leave her body.

In the space of one heartbeat Creed held her in his arms. “You okay? You went pale rather fast there.”

“Oh.” Didn’t she know any other words? Shit. First she barred him from his own cabin and then she got caught making changes. No matter how needed repairs were, to touch a cabin was a huge no-no on the Federal- and State-owned public-use cabins, even more so in privately-owned cabins. As thanks for staying there, she’d hoped to do it quietly and anonymously, but no, she’d had to get caught red handed.

“I like it. Honestly. The improvements are long overdue. Thank you for taking the initiative.”

She stared up at him. Had she done something right for a change? Henry, her ex-fiancé, had nearly had puppies when she’d rearranged his houseplants so they’d get more light. It had taken him a week to admit her arrangement might be better. He’d been positively grumpy when his Chinese evergreen had produced its first flowers ever, three weeks later.

“I did my best to keep it as authentic-looking as possible.” Heart pounding with renewed fury, the words left her in a rush. “If you don’t like anything I can put it back the way it was.” Hell, she’d even scuff dirt into the floorboards again if he insisted.

“Linnet, hush.”

His lips were awfully close to hers, his brown eyes darkening with something she wasn’t sure she recognized. Maybe didn’t even want to identify. At least it didn’t seem dangerous in the sense he meant to hurt her. Mint came to her again, warm and cool at the same time, as she took in the physical sensations. A strong arm encircled her back, and a large hand cupped her cheek, fingers stroking the edge of her hair ever so gently and non-threateningly. Warmth. From his body, eyes and hands, filling in the cold empty places inside her. Places she hadn’t even realized were cold and empty.

“You did a beautiful job. The repairs needed to be made. The improvements make it more comfortable. Thank you.” Spoken quietly, the words as much as the gruff rumble of his voice contributed to the weak feeling invading her entire body. Flight and fight were both impossible at this point.

His hand tilted her head back and she barely had time to suck in a deep breath before his lips lowered and brushed against hers. Blood pounding in her ears, she barely heard the kettle go quiet the way that meant it would begin to whistle in another minute. Opening her mouth to say she needed to get it, she never got the chance. Amazingly soft lips pressed against hers as he took her unintended invitation and fit his mouth to hers. Like a perfectly cut dovetail, their lips and tongues melded and the need to deal with the kettle faded.

Dizzy with never before encountered heat, Linnet wrapped her arms around the only solid thing handy. Hard muscles pressed against her body as her fingers sought handholds on his back. His shirt slid over rippling planes of steel and she held tight. Instead of pushing her away, he pulled her closer, his tongue probing deeply into her mouth, one strong arm holding her upright.

Oh. My. God. The power of the kiss swept her along faster than the current of the river and she gave herself up to it. No kiss had ever touched her like this and it made her head spin. Thankfully, he still held her head or she feared it might have fallen off. If not for his arm around her shoulders and her death grip on his back, she would have fallen when he abruptly broke the kiss.

“Manley, down,” Creed ordered the dog. His gruff tone cleared enough of the haze surrounding her; she heard the kettle screaming and felt Manley head-butting their legs.

“The kettle,” she whispered and shook her head. What was wrong with her? Kissing a stranger? Pulling back from Creed, relief and disappointment fought an epic battle in Linnet’s heart when he let her go. Glad she had a task, Linnet turned to the small stove and turned it off. The whistle began to soften immediately and it accompanied the cooling of the lust that had overcome her.

Out of habit, she reached for her mug and the jar of tea bags on the newly installed shelf over the counter that served as part of the kitchen. Just one of the improvements she’d made over the last few weeks.

Living alone in the middle of the wilderness left one with plenty of spare time. Always good with her hands, she’d filled the non-working hours by organizing this one little corner of the world. It wasn’t that she’d done anything big—the windows had been her most radical change—really, she’d just taken what was available and rearranged it.

A few nails, a little wood glue, and old wobbly furniture became solid once more. A thrift-store cushion or two and a mosquito net around her bunk and life couldn’t get much more comfortable out here.

Creed’s body heat warmed her back when he moved up behind her. She watched as he set his mug next to hers and reached for the glass jar holding packets of cocoa.

“Good idea to use glass for storage.” His voice was a soft warm rumble in her ear.

She needed to move away from him, wanted to move away. Couldn’t make her legs react to orders.

“Keeps the smell in and hopefully the bears out,” she said with a shrug and took the jar from him. Weakness swamped her again when his other hand settled on her shoulder. His thumb stroked her neck as he reached for the kettle.

Opening the jar to select an envelope of the powdered drink was almost an impossible task. Only with great concentration was she able to open the paper packet and empty the contents into his stainless steel mug. It looked solid and sleek next to her tin mug covered with blue speckled enamel. He poured the steaming water while she closed the jar and returned it to the shelf. Teabag followed water into her mug and that jar returned to its home.

“Spoons?” His breath whispered over her ear and a shiver followed.

Not trusting her voice she pointed. Another series of glass jars held mismatched flatware.

Without releasing her, he selected a spoon to stir his cocoa. “Do you need one?”

She shook her head and lifted her mug. Already the fruity fragrance of blueberries perfumed the steam.

“Shall we go sit at the table?” Creed suggested and nodded to where she’d arranged what looked like an old, scarred, dining table under the front window. Furniture polish had cleaned the wood and made it shine like a fine antique. Mismatched woven placemats protected the top while showing off the wood beneath.

“Sure.” She moved to her favorite seat. The best place to view the river, the spot was marked by her laptop and a stack of notebooks. Pencils and pens stood in a paper cup and further defined her workspace.

Creed pulled out the chair for her and then sat down next to her.

“Thanks.” The automatic word popped from her lips before she could find something else to say. He acknowledged it with a smile.

“Quite the little office here,” he teased her.

“Beats one in town.”

“Good point.”

Now what? What was there to say without babbling? The more she thought about it, the more the kiss scared her. Staring out the window she held the cup of tea before her and blew across the surface. A masculine groan made her look back at Creed.

“Women have no idea how their most innocent movements and gestures affect a man,” he chuckled.

Linnet set her cup down on the table and folded her hands in her lap.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel self-conscious.” His hand settled gently over the back of her neck and she felt trapped.

She’d walked into this one all by herself. Cornered by the cabin and the furniture, she found herself blocked from her escape route by Creed. Stupid, Linnet, just plain stupid. Always placing herself in the corner was a bad habit. Hell, even the bunk she’d chosen was in the corner. Dumb, dumb, dumb! She never left herself an escape route.

Clearing her throat she decided to avoid topics that could easily grow too personal. “You were going to tell me your history,” she reminded him. “How did you come to own this place? Is it a family homestead?”

His deep chuckle told her the redirection effort was obvious. “I’d rather keep doing what we were doing when the kettle whistled. It illustrated our condition rather well.”

Linnet closed her eyes and turned her head toward the window. Maybe she should make this one open and screen it as well? The breeze from the river would feel great on her scorched face right about now. She never blushed! What was going on here?

Beside her, Creed sighed. “Right. Moving too fast. Sorry, was a long stretch on the Slope this time. Guess I was lonelier than I thought.”

Linnet pursed her lips and turned her head even further. Great, just great. Probably looked good because she was the first civilized woman he’d seen in how many weeks? She knew women worked up in oilfields, mostly in the offices, but if he had any kind of ethics at all he didn’t mix with them socially. The oil companies frowned on that sort of fraternization in the camps.

“Uh, that didn’t come out right.” His attempt to laugh it off didn’t do much to convince her of his sincerity.

“Don’t worry about it.” She pushed her chair back and would have stood, but his hand gripped her arm.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t spend much time around women and was never the best student when it came to social graces.”

She still refused to look at him. “Well, maybe you can dig up some of those old lessons. I’m going to get my evening bath.” Shaking off his arm, she stood. His arm around her waist stopped her again and he pulled her close, until his head rested against her stomach and both arms held her gently.

Heart beating wildly again, she curled her hands to keep from using violence to push him away. He wasn’t actually threatening her, wasn’t hurting her and she could have stepped away if she’d really wanted to. The fact was, the embrace felt far too right. That alone scared her into standing still.

When he spoke, his voice was muffled against her stomach. “Linnet, I’m sorry. I keep saying the wrong things.”

“Please.” She pushed at his shoulders, finding strength at last. “Keep your hands to yourself. I’m here to work and not provide entertainment for lonely oilfield workers on leave. I’m a biologist, not a good-time girl.”

Like stones, his arms dropped away and the expression on his face made her nearly regret her words. Determined not to give in and become a doormat—yet again—she stalked away from him. Agitated, her gaze fell on her plastic bucket of bath supplies at the foot of her bunk. A long-handled brush, wash cloth and bottle of castile soap were nestled in beside her comb and razor. Yeah, a good long soak sounded great right now.

The thought of clean clothes made her gaze fly to the laundry line behind the woodstove and she strode that direction. Of all the displays...! Plucking her towel from the laundry line, she also pulled down clean sets of lacy lingerie dangling from the line after yesterday afternoon’s washing session.

With a burning face and jerky movements, she gathered them and rushed to stuff the pile in her duffel. The socks, jeans and tees weren’t quite dry enough yet. At least she had one more clean set of dry clothing. Normally she would have undressed and just worn a long shirt and sandals to the stream, but not with him here.

Clothes, towel and bucket in hand, she hurried to the cabin door.

“Linnet…”

“Help yourself to anything you need,” she cut him off and pushed the screen door outward.

Laughing at himself, and feeling like ten different kinds of an ass, the words left Creed before he could censor them. “What if I need you?”

His voice stopped her but she didn’t turn around. “I’m not on the list of items available for public use.”

The extra loud slap of the door closing, sounded like a shot propelling her forward as she rushed off, taking her sweet scent with her. Citronella, fresh air, and woman, what a combination, he chuckled to himself. Add a little gun oil and he’d probably combust on the spot.

Creed flinched and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. The cleaned ceiling.

Hardly able to believe what he was looking at, he sat up straight. She’d cleaned the peeled-log rafters and rough-cut cedar-planked ceiling? When the woman cleaned, she didn’t leave anything untouched. Amazed, he turned to look over the interior of the cabin more carefully.

It had been easy to see the big differences at first glance, especially her lacy underthings on the line, but the details were astounding. The old large wooden bunks had never looked better. The cooking area was organized with dishes stacked neatly on new shelves, pots and pans stored under the counters. Glass jars of all sizes held basic staples of sugar, flour, coffee, tea and cocoa. The sitting area was comfortably arranged around the woodstove scrubbed and freshly blacked.

Even the indoor woodpile looked swept and sorted. Kindling on top, dried and split logs below. Old newspapers stacked off to the side along with a full box of matches and a pile of fire starters made from egg cartons filled with paraffin and sawdust. Sanding had brightened the wooden plank floor that probably hadn’t been sanded since it had been laid down more than fifty years ago. Probably hadn’t even been sanded then.

Well-thumbed paperback books, old board games, and miscellaneous supplies crowded a shelving unit made of old wooden liquor crates. Left over from when Great-Uncle George had worked for the local liquor distributor. More crates provided storage at the foot of and between each bunk. A good place to stash gear.

Manley whined then yelped at the door.

Creed stood to let him out. “Follow the lady, boy. Keep her safe.” For a moment, he watched the dog run down the trail off to the right. Smart of George to send him along. Raking fingers through overly long hair, Creed turned back to the cabin to finish taking in the changes. Had George tried to call? Probably should have checked the answering machine before taking off. It had never occurred to him George wouldn’t be here and there was no one else he wanted to talk to. Why hadn’t George emailed him on the Slope? Why hadn’t anyone else?

Creed pondered the implications of not checking for messages at home as he inspected the sturdy government surplus chairs that had looked worse for the wear with torn vinyl seats. Freshly painted in gunmetal gray, the seat cushions were reupholstered with thick canvas that had been hand-painted green. Good choice actually. The deep, deep winter cold and countless butts plopping down at the table had cracked the vinyl over the past thirty years and they’d been repaired with liberal use of duct tape.

And the laundry line. While not new, it had certainly never held delicate lacy items like she’d pulled off just a few minutes ago. He wanted to dig through her bag and get a closer look at them. Pervert, he snorted to himself. In his experience, wilderness women didn’t usually wear such delicate clothing.

Actually, he wanted to look at them closer on her body. If he moved quietly he could spy on her bathing at the creek fed by a spring of hot mineral water. Now that would make him a pervert. He groaned. God, it had been so long since he’d held and kissed a woman. And never one as perfectly warm, curvy and delicious as this one. The memory of her breasts against his chest made him pace hoping to ease his iron-hard erection. Her whole body, hidden under the baggy shirt, had come alive under his touch. Trim waist, sleek lines, curved hips and sweetly rounded ass were perfect playing fields for his hands. Freshly washed, she’d be perfect for his mouth too.

Sheee-at. Four weeks of no privacy and now too much privacy. He had only himself to police his actions with her. While Manley seemed to obey her well enough, and he wasn’t shy about tangling with village dogs when warranted, it was doubtful he’d get in the way. The only reason he’d interrupted this evening was because the piercing whistle of the kettle had probably hurt his ears. Creed almost wished a large group of tourists would come along right now.

The box against the wall, under the table, bleeped and Creed checked his watch. Thirty minutes she’d said. He wandered to the box and checked the dials. Yup, the battery was charged. Her laptop probably as well. He looked at her keys lying on the table. The least he could do was put the tools away and turn off the generator. And if he went for a little stroll through the woods to wash up at the creek, could you blame a guy for practicing good hygiene?