Читать книгу Stormbound With A Tycoon - Shawna Delacorte - Страница 9

Dylan stood up, set the coffeepot on the counter and flashed his most engaging smile. “I’m glad we found something we could agree on. Now, where do you keep the coffee?”

“I’ll do that. I know where everything is.” Jessica opened the door of the small pantry and removed the canister.

He took it from her, his tone showing a hint of irritation at her continued derogatory attitude about his capabilities. “I know how to make coffee.” He added water to the pot, measured the coffee and lit the burner on the stove. He took two coffee mugs from the cupboard and set them on the kitchen counter. Then he stared intently at the coffeepot as if willing it to start perking.

She turned toward the bathroom. “The water heater should have done its job and produced some hot water by now. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Sure…” He glanced in her direction. “I’ll grab a quick shower when you’ve finished.” He ran his hand over the stubble that covered his chin and cheeks. “I need to shave, too.” He saw the expression on her face again, the one that said she wanted to say something but had decided against it. He returned his attention to the coffeepot, hoping she would accept that as a sign to go about her business. A couple of minutes later he heard the shower.

Dylan leaned against the kitchen counter and expelled a sigh of relief that she had gone. Other than a couple of delightful minutes when he first woke up, the entire morning had been uncomfortable and very awkward. He had turned on the old charm, but she had refused to succumb.

Jessica McGuire was obviously a very capable woman. He had no experience with women like that—smart, capable, unpretentious and down to earth. He could not imagine even one of the women he had dated over the years actually running out into the rain and mud to check on a propane tank, let alone knowing what to do with it when she got there. He had racked up lots of exciting days and memorable nights, but during the past three months he had been forced to admit, if only to himself, that in spite of everything it had been a lonely existence. It was a bitter pill to swallow and one that had not gone down easily, but he knew it was the truth.

A hard stab of despair hit him when the memory of what happened to Stanley and Rose Clarkson popped into his mind again. Where it had always been a game for him in the past, it had finally dawned on him that he was now thirty-five years old and did not have anything important to show for his life. He had lots of memorable adventures, thousands of acquaintances around the world and a net worth of several million dollars, but he didn’t have a real home, a family or any really close friends other than Justin McGuire. He didn’t have the things that truly mattered.

Jessica was so different from any other woman he had ever known. She did not hang on his every word, laugh at his jokes whether they were funny or not, jump to fulfill his every whim. In short, she made no effort to impress him or play up to his ego, and he was not sure exactly how to handle it. In time gone past he wouldn’t have given it any more thought. He would have simply moved on to someone more receptive. But now…well, she had him confused. He was sure of one thing, though. He had to do something to counter her obviously negative opinion of him. But what?

As soon as the coffee was ready he poured himself a mug and took it into the living room. He opened the front door and stared out at the rain. The cold, damp air chilled him in spite of the coffee that heated the inside of his mouth and his throat. He had to find something he could do that would show Jessica he was not as out of place at the cabin or as inept as she seemed to think. Then his gaze fell on the firewood stacked neatly on the porch.

He glanced back at the cold fireplace. That was it. There was nothing like a warm, cozy fire to break the ice. He returned his coffee mug to the kitchen counter, then set to work carrying in firewood and building a fire. He definitely knew about using a cozy fire to create a romantic mood. Or, in this case, at least a friendly mood that was devoid of the prevailing tension.

He could not stop the little grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. They could pull chairs up close to the fire and drink their morning coffee in a setting conducive to conversation. He would be able to change her abject opinion of him. Yes, indeed. He was very pleased with himself and his plan.

When he had finished with the fireplace he went to the kitchen to retrieve his coffee mug. He called to Jessica when he heard her emerge from the bathroom. “Coffee’s ready. Do you take anything in it or is black okay?” He stood poised with the pot in his hand waiting for her answer.

“Oh, my God! What have you done?” Jessica’s cry of alarm filled the air as much as the smell of smoke that quickly replaced the aroma of fresh coffee. It billowed out of the fireplace and into the living room. Her first thought said the cabin was on fire, but before she could act on that assumption she realized it was something else.

Dylan charged across the room toward the fireplace while shouting instructions. “Open the front door and a couple of windows to draw the smoke out.” He snatched the largest logs that had not yet caught fire and dropped them on the hearth. He used the poker and scattered the burning kindling around the fireplace to break up the fire’s fuel. Then he grabbed the bucket of sand he had spotted on the front porch and spread it over what was left of the fire to smother it.

Jessica stepped out to the front porch and took a deep breath of the crisp fresh air. She was not sure exactly what to think. It was obvious to her that he had stupidly left the damper in the chimney closed—too much high living and not enough practical experience with real life. She furrowed her brow in thought as another realization hit her. He had also taken immediate charge of the emergency and handled it with calm efficiency.

She set her jaw into a firm line and shook her head to clear her mind of the unwanted, compromising thought. After all, she had every right to be angry with him for enveloping her cabin in smoke and causing a potential disaster. She stubbornly refused to allow any contradictory thoughts to cloud the issue. She stepped back inside the living room, paused for a moment, then made her way over to the fireplace where Dylan had busied himself cleaning up the mess.

The morning had been filled with more than enough tension, and she was not sure exactly what to think or feel about the events that had already transpired. She knew she had been a little harsh, and possibly even unfair, but she didn’t seem to be able to stop herself. It was as if some sort of self-defense mechanism had automatically kicked in to protect her from the charms of this handsome and far-too-sexy scoundrel.

She tried to prevent any irritation from creeping into her voice. “Apparently you failed to open the damper before starting the fire.”

He straightened and leveled an appraising look at her. Was she challenging him? Accusing him? He did not know how to read her. “I’ve lit more than my share of fires in various fireplaces. I can assure you that I know enough to check. The damper was open.” With that, he turned toward the kitchen and the coffee he had left there.

He glanced back at the fireplace just in time to see her kneel down in front of the hearth and reach for the lever that controlled the damper. A little flicker of satisfaction settled inside him as the sheepish expression covered her face when she looked up and saw him watching her. She brushed her hands against her jeans, then slowly walked across the living room to the kitchen.

Dylan cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. “Well?” He saw the crimson tinge of embarrassment spread across her cheeks. She glanced at the floor before regaining eye contact with him.

“You…uh…you were right. The damper is open. I…uh…well, apparently there’s something else blocking the chimney.”

His sharply clipped words carried an edge of sarcasm. “That’s a safe guess.”

He continued to stare at her, waiting for her to make the next move. She had accused him of not knowing enough to check the damper and doubted his word when he told her it was open, even to the point of checking it for herself. She had no option other than admitting that he had not been responsible for the fiasco.

The entire morning he had been on the receiving end of her disapproval and skepticism. Now that he had finally gained the upper hand over the circumstances, he wasn’t sure he wanted to let her off the hook quite so easily. Things were finally starting to feel a little more comfortable and familiar. He suppressed a grin and settled into the game. It was an interesting situation packed with lots of possibilities. So why was he still feeling a little uneasy…and a lot unsure?

He tried to maintain a stern expression, but it wasn’t easy. Even though his feelings about her were very confused, they certainly were not hostile. He took a quick inventory of the physical attributes of this very enticing woman. A band tightened across his chest, and the heat of desire churned deep inside him. His feelings were definitely not hostile…quite the contrary.

She squirmed uncomfortably for a moment, then visibly pulled her composure together. She squared her shoulders and aimed an unflinching stare at him. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

He purposely widened his eyes in feigned innocence. “Make what easy for you?” Justin had told him about his sister hating to admit being wrong, that she was very stubborn in that regard. For reasons he could not clearly define, he was enjoying her being on the spot for a change rather than him. It was an interesting moment of pointed banter with the delightful Jessica McGuire.

She took in a calming breath, then loudly expelled it. An edge of irritation clung to her words. “All right!” She took another calming breath. “You were right and I was wrong. The damper was open.” She glared at him with as much of a challenge in her eyes as in her voice. “There—are you satisfied now?”

He flashed her a dazzling smile, freely allowing the sound of victory to fill his voice. “That wasn’t really so difficult, was it?”

“Yes, it was!” Her angry retort quickly turned to an awkward moment as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She rubbed her hand across the back of her neck and glanced at the floor. Her words were soft, her voice a whisper. “I just assumed—”

“You assumed…what? That I’m a hopelessly inept jerk who isn’t capable of handling the most basic task?” He saw the embarrassment color her cheeks again and he immediately regretted the harshness of his words, regardless of how true they had been.

She tried to recover the upper hand. “You have to admit that your lifestyle certainly doesn’t lend itself to—”

“Perhaps my ‘lifestyle’ isn’t what you think it is.” He clenched his jaw in an attempt to bite off his anger. “True, I’ve spent the past few years more or less wandering around…” The sadness and despair that suddenly welled inside him forced an end to his comments.

He turned the word over in his mind. Lifestyle. He had no purpose in life or even any goals. Always a party to go to, but no one special with whom to share the joys or the sorrows…especially the sorrows. That was not a lifestyle—it was loneliness.

He had always envied Justin, who seemed to have everything he didn’t. Even though Justin was divorced, he had family and was very close to his sister. He had a career he loved, a home and close friends. He had roots, something that was important to him. And Jessica—she was a very together lady. They had everything that mattered. They had what he very much wanted.

What little family Dylan started with had long ago been taken away. He was an only child. His father had deserted the family when he was ten years old. He eventually learned that his father had died five years later. His mother died within two weeks of the time he had been left literally at the altar on his wedding day. It seemed that those closest to him had deserted him. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way—if you allow someone into your heart or to touch your place of vulnerability you will end up being hurt. Close emotional attachments weren’t for him, but he truly envied Justin and Jessica.

Dylan turned away before his moment of melancholy became obvious to Jessica. It was just the type of vulnerability he did not want to show to this woman who had already developed some very definite opinions of him. He grabbed the empty coffee mug from the kitchen counter, filled it and handed it to her. He forced an upbeat attitude to his tone. “You never answered me about cream or sugar.”

“Just black.” She reached out to take the mug from his hand. Their fingers touched for an instant, the warmth much more than what was being generated by the coffee. Her gaze locked with his, held there as if by some force beyond her control. Her breath froze in her lungs. She finally managed to look away, but it did not still the pounding of her heart.

He carried his coffee mug to the living room, taking a swallow as he walked. He desperately wanted to smooth out the tension that permeated the air. Then an incident from his youth popped into his mind. He couldn’t stop the chuckle that accompanied it.

She stared at him, her expression part curiosity and part irritation. “This entire morning has been a disaster. Just what is it that you find so funny?”

He took another sip of his coffee and settled into a comfortable chair. “The disaster with the fireplace reminded me of something that happened a long time ago, when I was about fifteen years old.” Another soft chuckle escaped his throat as the recollection from his past settled over him.

“My mother and I lived in an old house that had a fireplace left over from a time before the furnace had been installed. She was down the block playing cards with the neighbors. I decided it was a perfect evening to invite my girlfriend over on the pretext of our studying together. I planned to build this romantic fire in the fireplace the way I’d seen in movies.”

“At fifteen years old you were planning romantic evenings?”

He shot her a sly sidelong glance. “Fifteen-year-old hormones are difficult to argue with.” He allowed a quiet moment of reflection as the memory of simpler times warmed his consciousness.

“I had wood, newspapers and matches, all the things I thought I needed to build this romantic fire. I had everything put together the way I thought it should be, with newspaper on the bottom, little pieces of wood on top of that, then bigger pieces on the top of the pile. It was time for her to arrive. I struck a match and lit the newspaper which immediately flared up and caught the small pieces of wood. When I was sure the fire was going I opened the front door and went out on the porch to watch for her. Before I knew what was happening, the room filled with smoke and it billowed out the door. A neighbor saw the smoke and called the fire department.”

He turned and looked at her. “And that’s how I learned about dampers in a fireplace.” He emitted another gentle laugh mixed with a hint of embarrassment. “What about you? Do you have any most embarrassing moment from your past that you’d like to share?”

Only two truly embarrassing moments leaped to her mind. The first one was having several people show up for what she thought was her lunch date with Dylan when she was sixteen years old. The other was catching her husband in bed with another woman. She had no intention of mentioning either incident. “I…uh…can’t think of anything right now.”

“Oh, I see. I’m left here with my embarrassment exposed, and you’re keeping yours a secret.” His teasing grin let her know he wasn’t angry or upset.

He had shared a personal experience with her, something from his past. It was a warm few minutes that left her enveloped in a feeling of closeness, one totally different from anything she had been prepared for. It was as if she was seeing a totally different Dylan Russell than the one she assumed she knew. The reflective moment was broken when he rose from the chair.

“I guess the next order of business is to figure out exactly what’s blocking the chimney.” He bent down on the hearth and attempted to look up into the darkness, then turned back toward her. “Do you have a flashlight somewhere around here?”

“Yes, in the kitchen. I’ll get it for you.” She hurried to the kitchen. Her desire to escape the smooth presence that had been lulling her into a very receptive mood was as strong as the need to retrieve the flashlight. She quelled the uncertainty churning in her stomach. Nothing was as it should be—least of all Dylan Russell. It was more than Justin having let him use the cabin. More than her having inadvertently climbed into bed with him. She feared just how much more it might turn out to be.

Every time she tried to force him into a predetermined mold of who and what he was, he refused to fit. The harder she pushed and shoved, the more he seemed to resist. She found it very perplexing and very frustrating. She had a knack for being able to tag people as to who and what they were, but he refused to cooperate. Every time he flashed that sexy smile she increased her efforts to put him in his place and he seemed to resist all that much harder.

She toyed with the idea that she wanted him neatly classified because she felt threatened by his devil-may-care freedom to do as he pleased whenever it pleased him. It angered her that without even seeming to try, he had managed to make a mockery of her ordered and sensible life. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

His nearness sent little tremors of excitement racing through her body…tremors over which she had no control. And all this just from his presence. Other than when he wrapped his arm around her waist while he was asleep, there had been no physical contact between them. Unless you counted the brief moment when their fingers touched—a moment she could still feel as if it had happened only a second ago.

He was not a physical threat, but he surely was a very real emotional one. She reminded herself that she was no longer that impressionable fifteen-year-old schoolgirl who had the major crush on her older brother’s friend. Nor was she the sixteen-year-old whose heart had been broken by the very same Dylan Russell. She swept the inappropriate thoughts from her mind and went in search of the flashlight and spare batteries.

Dylan shuffled through a couple of closets while Jessica looked for the flashlight. He found a broom, an old mop handle and some duct tape. By overlapping the ends of the handles and taping them together, he had ended up with a long pole.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Jessica asked as she handed him the flashlight.

He leaned the pole against the wall and took the flashlight from her. “I’m making something long enough to reach up the chimney so I can dislodge whatever it is without having to go up on the roof and tackle it from that direction.”

“Go up on the roof?” Surely he wasn’t serious about actually doing it. “It’s still raining. The roof has a very steep slope. It’s much too dangerous.”

“I know.” He cupped her chin in his hand and uttered the words slowly, as if talking to a child. “That’s why I don’t want to go up on the roof if it can be avoided.” He saw the irritation dart across her face and immediately flashed a grin to let her know he was teasing.

Then his gaze found hers. His fingers brushed across her cheek. It was a fleeting moment of intimacy that nearly took his breath away and left him totally confused. He tried to ignore the rush of heated desire by returning to the problem with the chimney.

He snapped on the flashlight, leaned on the hearth and stuck his head into the fireplace. He sighted along the beam of light as it penetrated the darkness. “There’s something there, all right. It looks like it’s pretty far up. I hope this makeshift pole can reach it.”

He withdrew from the fireplace and handed her the flashlight. “Here. Shine the light up there while I try to dislodge the obstruction.”

Jessica leaned into the fireplace and turned on the flashlight, shining the beam up into the darkness. Dylan stared at her for a moment, then broke out in a soft chuckle. “You might want to get your head out of there unless you want whatever comes down the chimney to fall in your face.”

She scooted out of the way while muttering under her breath, “I knew that.”

He teased her obvious irritation at her own mistake. “Uh…what was that? I didn’t hear what you said.”

She angrily snapped out a response to his teasing. “Are we going to try to clear out this chimney or not?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. That’s exactly what we’re going to do.” Again, he could not contain his amusement.

He turned his attention to the business at hand. He kept as far away from the chimney opening as he could, yet still be in a position to see what he was doing. It was not an ideal situation, but he was willing to give it a try. He shoved the pole as far up into the chimney as he could, finally making contact with whatever had the opening blocked. He jabbed at it. Bits of dried twigs and leaves began to drift down, then suddenly everything gave way.

The accumulated debris broke loose and crashed down the flue into the interior of the fireplace. Jessica jumped to her feet, dropping the flashlight as she tried to keep the flying dust out of her eyes. Dylan choked back a cough as he escaped the cloud of soot and ashes that billowed across the hearth.

They dashed out to the front porch to escape the choking air inside the cabin. Jessica ruffled her fingers through her hair to dislodge some leaves, then brushed her hands across her forehead and cheeks to wipe away the dust. “What a mess.”

“I think we got the blockage cleared out.” Dylan picked the bits of twigs from his clothes. “Do you have a vacuum cleaner? That powdery, fine, fireplace ash is going to be hard to get with a broom.”

“Yes, but there’s no—”

“No electricity!” Dylan finished her sentence.

Each broke out into a spontaneous laugh at the totally ludicrous situation. Almost as quickly as it began the laughter faded when their gazes locked again for a moment…a very heated moment. It was almost an involuntary gesture on Dylan’s part as he reached out and gently brushed some of the dirt from her cheek. He allowed his fingertips to linger, then cupped her face in his hands. At that moment he very much wanted to take her in his arms and kiss that delicious-looking mouth. He steeled himself against the temptation and quickly withdrew his hands. He had never before been in the position of wanting to kiss someone so much yet knowing that he didn’t dare try.

A shiver tickled across Jessica’s nape in response to his touch. It was as unsettling as Dylan himself. She backed away from him. He was as wrong for her as a man could be, yet his mere presence excited her in a way she had never before experienced. She tried to shake off the mesmerizing sensations that enveloped her. It was a bad situation, and it needed to be terminated as quickly as possible.

She took another step away from him as she rubbed her hand across her nape to still the tremor. “Well…” She shoved down the sudden nervousness that jittered through her body. She could still feel the heat generated by his touch. “There’s a mess that needs to be cleaned.” She returned to the living room, leaving Dylan standing on the porch.

He watched her retreating form. His gaze traced the line of her hip and the curve of her bottom beneath the well-worn denim. The tightness spread across his chest, and the heat settled low inside him. Even his fingertips tingled from the brief contact with her cheek. Jessica McGuire was as tantalizingly desirable as any woman he had ever met, yet so unlike any woman he had ever been with. He shook his head as he followed her inside. He needed to add structure and purpose to his life, not complicate it by making a pass at this woman…who also happened to be his best friend’s sister.

Jessica purposely kept her distance from Dylan while they cleaned up the mess as best they could. By the time they finished, it was nearly noon. The entire morning had been devoted to one disaster after another. A new layer of anxiety built up on the already established base. Her neat and tidy existence had been turned into a shambles by Dylan Russell, and she did not like it. And worse yet, she didn’t know what to do about it. She could still feel his fingertips on her cheek and the heat of his touch.

Dylan was aware of her every movement and gesture, her body language telling him she was out of patience with the series of minidisasters. He made the decision to retreat and give her a little bit of time to calm down. He adopted the facade of the world-weary traveler who had seen it all and done it all. He glanced around the room, satisfied that it was as orderly as possible under the circumstances.

“Things here seem to be under control. I think this would be a good time for me to grab a quick shower.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

Many years ago an awkward fifteen-year-old Jessica had followed him around for an entire weekend like a lovesick puppy, and he had not been able to get rid of her. He remembered how funny Justin thought it had been. Then a year later he saw how much the sixteen-year-old Jessica had blossomed. A four-year age difference wasn’t much, but the difference between a sixteen-year-old high school girl and a twenty-year-old college man was considerable. He had not had any interest in asking for trouble by making a pass at an underage girl and especially not his best friend’s sister.

His mind drifted back to early that morning as he lay in bed watching her pick up her clothes—the way her T-shirt clung to her curves, her long bare legs, the sexy abandon of her mussed hair. The fifteen-year-old Jessica had been a nuisance. Funny how drastically things had changed. He allowed a brief thought about how he might be able to get her to follow him around like that again.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, ran his hand across his whisker stubble, then heaved a sigh of resignation. Absolutely nothing had gone in his favor since he had gotten out of bed that morning. Actually, nothing had gone in his favor for the past three months. He clicked on his electric razor, hoping the battery had enough charge left for him to shave.

Jessica heard the shower go on. Finally, a chance for some peace and quiet without the distraction of Dylan Russell to set her heart pounding and her pulse racing. She poured herself another cup of coffee, turned on the battery-operated radio, then curled up in the corner of the couch. She reflected on the morning’s activities. All she had wanted was a couple of days of quiet and solitude. That was not asking too much, was it? Instead everything seemed to be conspiring against her. She had found herself enmeshed in one calamity after another. First it was the rain as she drove to the cabin, then finding the power out when she had arrived and finally total bedlam masquerading in the person of Dylan Russell.

It was an impossible situation. He would have to leave as soon as he finished in the bathroom. It was bad enough to wake up in the same bed with him by accident, but to allow him to continue to stay in her cabin was out of the question. Determination took a strong hold. Her mind was made up. She would be tactful, but firm. Maybe Justin had promised him the use of the cabin, but even Dylan should be able to recognize what an impossible situation they had.

Then that same determined mind drifted back to the moment when she woke that morning to find his arm curled around her waist and his body snuggled against hers. She could still feel the sensual warmth that radiated from his bare skin in those moments of half sleep and half wakefulness. She vividly recalled each and every plane, angle and line of his well-defined torso when he had propped himself up on his elbow and flashed that deliciously wicked grin. Rogue, scoundrel, playboy, charmer—whatever word you wanted to use, it personified Dylan Russell to a T. No way was he the type of man she could ever be seriously interested in, the kind who would be happy to settle down with a home and family—no way at all.

She shook off the thoughts and the mental image, then took another swallow of her coffee as if trying to drown out her errant musings. She reaffirmed her resolve. Her mind was made up. He definitely had to go, and the sooner the better. Her decision was final. There was no way she would change her mind—no way at all.

A second later, in an act of total defiance against her conscious wishes, her mind drifted to what it would be like to kiss him. The idea had come uninvited and did nothing to calm the desires she had been trying to deny. She set down her empty coffee mug with a resounding thump and busied herself closing windows to keep out the cold air.

A few minutes later she heard the bathroom door open. She fought the urge to look in his direction. She could not allow him the opportunity to sucker her in again with those green eyes and that devastating smile. But as before, her heated desires overruled her intentions. Against her better judgment she glanced in his direction. That was all it took. Her resolve instantly melted away. He looked casual, comfortable and far too sexy.