“Now,” he said, drawing her into his arms so that she was facing away from him. “I’ll show you the correct way to do it, if you really want to learn how.” He put the gun to her shoulder, making a point of telling her that it didn’t go in her armpit. He used a lot of technical talk to tell her, in essence, that if she planned to shoot a gun bigger than the size of her foot, not to aim it directly into the ground, to angle it more, or the backlash would knock her down every time.
Leslie didn’t particularly want and wasn’t at all interested in this lesson on how to handle a shotgun. She had no intention of ever touching a gun again as long as she lived. If an emergency arose, she’d think of something else to do. But, she wasn’t about to tell Joe. She liked the feel of his arms around her as he held her close, the way they brushed against her when he moved. She liked watching his big, rough hands as they took hers and showed her where to put them on the rifle. And there was no denying the warm, tingling sensation she felt when his legs pressed against the back of hers and his chest adjusted itself to conform to her back.
She almost giggled with delight when he put his cheek to hers and tried to show her how the sight worked. He could have repeated that specific part of the lesson several times, and she wouldn’t have minded.
“Now then, all you have to do is keep that branch lined up with the sight on the end of the barrel, and pull the trigger. And don’t close your eyes, or you’ll lose your aim. Ready?” Leslie nodded. “Keep your legs spread apart, or you’ll be back on your fanny again.”
There was a laughing quality in his voice that she took instant exception to and very naturally turned her head to glare at him. Her nose brushed his cheek, and their eyes met and held for a long tense moment of appraisal.
“Would you like to make a wager on your hitting that branch?” he asked, leaving no doubt as to what the stakes would be.
“I don’t think so.”
“Afraid you’ll lose again?”
“Yes.”
“It’s bound to happen eventually,” he said, almost like a warning in her ear. “Wouldn’t you just as soon get it over with than have to live with the anticipation that much longer?”
“What anticipation?” she asked, looking away, making an elaborate gesture of squaring her shoulders and bracing her legs as she took careful aim at the branch.
“The anticipation of knowing that eventually you and I are going to make love. And don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
“I haven’t thought about it.” Well, not in so many words, she added mentally. Her hands grew moist, and her heart was racing as he continued to talk softly, intimately in her ear.
“I know you have. Look, Leslie. See how well our bodies fit together? I noticed it the other night when you spent the whole night in my arms. We’ll do that again soon. Only this time you won’t be sleeping.” Leslie’s muscles grew taut, and her nerves became excited. She flexed and extended her trigger finger, trying to keep her concentration focused on the tree limb. “It’ll be glorious, Leslie. I’m already looking forward to touching your soft, smooth skin again. To kissing you again. To finding softer places to touch and secret places to kiss, that—”
The shotgun went off with a resounding clap that seemed to go on forever. When Leslie opened her eyes, she was amazed to find the branch gone. Triumphantly she turned on Joe. “There. Happy now?”
“Are you? You’re the one who wouldn’t bet.” His green eyes were sparkling proudly. He’d been goading her, she realized instantly. Saying all those horrible things so she’d try harder to make the shot. She began to seethe.
“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t get mad now. If you’re a very good girl, it may just happen yet,” he said, tapping her nose lightly with his index finger. “And next time you decide to play dead, don’t try to peek. It makes your eyelashes flutter.”
Leslie gasped. He released his instructor’s hold on her and took the rifle from her hands. “Since you’re feeling so spunky today, you can help me carry all that food up to the cabin. I dumped it about a hundred yards back when I heard your shot. If the eggs are broken, it’s all your fault.”
Wasn’t it always her fault, Leslie asked herself. She knew better than to give into her impulses. She wasn’t a spontaneous person. Her life was much less stressful when she kept it simple and logical. As for Joe Bonner and his trickery, well, she’d have to find another way to deal with him.
Trying to make amends for her misdeed, Leslie volunteered to cook the scrambled eggs for their brunch. When Joe asked if she could cook eggs better than she made coffee, which she’d forgotten and left to boil over, she assured him she could. However, there was no omelette pan or cheese grater, no electric toaster or juice maker. Under such primitive conditions she was forced to tax her ingenuity.
“This is good,” Joe said, bobbing his head in approval over what Leslie had dubbed “eggs hors concours.” “I usually don’t eat this fancy stuff. It’s a nice change. What are these green things?”
“Don’t you know?” she asked, growing worried that she had committed yet another error. She had returned to the near empty garden, hoping for inspiration when her meal began to look as plain as eggs. A clump of chives and some of the vegetables Joe had bought were a help. She’d tasted one of the chives to be sure of what they were, but if Joe didn’t recognize his own produce …
“Where’d it come from?”
“Your garden.”
“My garden?” He was starting to look seriously concerned.
“Didn’t you say that was a garden at the side of the house?”
“Well, yes, but there isn’t anything planted in it yet. I haven’t had the time.”
The longer he looked at her as if she might have poisoned him, the more resentful she became. She wasn’t totally stupid. She’d gone to college. She held down a good job. She could cook up a storm in a civilized kitchen. And she knew a chive when she saw one. “Well, you got yourself a great little crop of chives out there now, Mr. Bonner. Believe you me,” she told him as she slapped her hand down on the table and looked him straight in the eye, daring him to argue with her.
Joe laughed. “Good. Terrific,” he said dryly, chuckling quietly and giving her a wary eye. “They taste great in eggs.”
Maybe she had overreacted a little, she thought, as Joe went silently back to eating his eggs. But she was tired of feeling like a total incompetent around this man. Everyone who knew her thought she was always in control, always organized, and always up on everything. She wanted Joe to think so too.
After their meal, Joe went straight to work. Leslie did the dishes and quickly ran out of things to do. She’d already been out of doors once that day, and she’d admired the view while she was there. So unless there was a good reason to go out again, she’d just as soon stay inside where she belonged. Of course, Joe was a neat, clean person, so there wasn’t much to do in the cabin either. She didn’t own anything in the vicinity but a purse and a cut up dress. She went to her purse in search of entertainment.
While Joe plunked away at his little computer, Leslie cleaned out her wallet and put her credit cards in alphabetical order. She checked the shade of her lipstick and decided to save it for when the rescue party came. She counted the keys on her key ring and took the time to wonder why Joe had bothered to take them out of the ignition, since neither she nor her car were going anywhere. At last she found a distraction—a silver nail file tucked away at the bottom of her bag.
With great verve she set about her manicure. On the third nail, she looked up to find Joe staring at her. A scowl of displeasure looking very at home on his face.
“What?” she asked innocently.
“Must you do that?”
“What? My nails?”
“It’s very distracting.”
That was exactly why she was doing them, but she got his point just the same. “Sorry.”
Joe went back to work, and Leslie tiptoed over to the kitchen sink for a glass of water. There was an old-fashioned hand pump that needed to be primed a little before water came out of it, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the noise when she’d been doing the dishes. Joe’s plunking slowed down but didn’t stop while she got her drink.
She recalled seeing some saltine crackers in one of the cupboards and quietly sought them out. She opened the crackling cellophane wrapper and removed several, because the eggs hadn’t satisfied her appetite. Not a big eater normally, and never a snacker, Leslie chalked this lapse in her behavior up to the mountain air. Everyone knew it made you hungrier than usual.
“Is that going to take long?” Joe’s exasperation was a surprise to Leslie. Now what had she done?
“What?”
“All the wrapper rustling and cracker crunching,” he said, annoyed.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry,” she said, walking back to the couch, flopping herself down despondently. “I’ll just sit right here, and I won’t make a sound. I promise.”
“Look. I’m sorry. But I have to get this done. I’m not used to having someone around while I work. I told you I wasn’t easy to live with.”
“So, work. I’ll be very quiet. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Joe’s expression was dubious, but he seemed willing to give it another try. She sat like a statue of The Thinker for awhile, then leaned back into the couch and got comfortable. She tried to remember some of her favorite music and played it back in her head. But when her moccasin-shod feet began to tap lightly on the floor, she had to stop. She closed her eyes, thinking she’d try to find her alpha level through meditation. It was something she’d always thought interesting but never had the time to try. After several minutes of trying to relax, she found herself listening to Joe’s plunking. It was terribly disturbing. She sighed and gave up on her alpha waves. But she didn’t reopen her eyes.
Joe. Joe Bonner. She liked his name. It was a very plain name for an extraordinary man. Her mind crawled back to the morning hours when he’d so rudely touched her when he discovered she wasn’t really hurt. For all his anger, his hands had been remarkably gentle. What would his touch be like if he weren’t angry? What if he were feeling amorous and favorably inclined toward her? Her body sighed from head to toe at the thought. What if he were even more gentle? What if his strokes were intended to arouse her, to drive her wild with desire? What if he’d started to undress her, looking for her wound? What if he’d touched her bare skin, caressed her naked breasts until they were on fire with insatiable yearning? What if … ?
“For crying out loud, Leslie! What the hell are you doing over there? Having an orgasm?”
Her eyes popped open. “Who me?”
Joe was turning to face her as she swung her feet to the floor and sat up. “Sigh, sigh, groan. You could do sound tracks for porno movies. What are you doing?”
“Nothing. I was trying to be quiet. But excuse me for breathing, Mr. Bonner. I’ll try to do better in the future,” she said defensively, so he wouldn’t see the guilt she was feeling.
“This isn’t going to work,” he said, “But, I have an idea.”
“What?” she muttered under her breath, still feeling foolish about her daydreams, still feeling the effect they had on her body.
Joe walked to the door and looked back at her when she didn’t follow. “Out here.”
“Oh, great,” she mumbled, rolling off the couch and getting to her feet to shuffle along behind him. Out the door and around the side of the cabin she followed him, until he stopped at his would-be garden.
“You seem to know your chives. How would you like to plant some more conventional veggies like carrots and potatoes and lettuce? If I can get back to my truck before too long, you can plant tomatoes too. I bought some plants, but they may die before I get back to them.”
Hands on her hips, Leslie looked first at the plot of dirt, then at Joe. “Are you joking?”
“No. It’ll give you something to do. Something to be proud of. And I won’t have to be yelling at you constantly to be quiet.” He grinned. “It’ll be good for our morale.”
“If I say no, are you going to force me to do this?”
A strange look crossed Joe’s face, and again he grinned—this time it wasn’t with humor. He took several steps toward her. He was several inches taller than she, and she had to force her head back so she could keep eye contact with him. His green gaze bore into her, searching deeply for secret treasures he was greedy to possess. She took a step backward and then another. Joe continued to advance on her until her back was against the rough wood of the cabin. When his arms moved up on either side of her to block her escape, she didn’t flinch or break contact with the keen stare that was more her captor than his physical form was.
For long minutes he stood there, close but not touching her, wondering but not asking. “Funny, that you should mention force. I can’t recall one time when I’ve actually forced you to do something you didn’t want to do,” he finally said in a low, menacing voice. “Why would you bring up something like that unless you’d been thinking about it? Have you been thinking of my forcing you to do something you don’t want to do, Les? Is that why you brought it up? Do you want me to force you to do something you don’t want to do? Does that excite you?” he asked, aligning his zipper to hers and leaning into it firmly.
There had to be anger in her somewhere, she thought, frantically searching for it. He had no right to treat her like this. Her pulse was racing so fast and her breathing was so shallow, she couldn’t sort out her emotions. Even her sensory system was on the blink. Instead of repulsion, she felt like one raw, totally exposed nerve ending. She was frightened and excited. She wanted to run away and melt into his arms at the same time. The turmoil seized her vocal cords, and she didn’t deny him.
He lowered his head. His lips touched the soft, sensitive skin just below her right ear and moved slowly across her throat as he rubbed his body against hers, pressing against her breasts until he could reach her other ear, her temple, her forehead, the corner of her mouth. His mouth closed over hers, his tongue stroking, demanding entrance.
He pulled back. “Is this part of the game? Am I supposed to force my way in? Is that what makes you hot?” he asked, his voice harsh with his own need, which already was evident as it pressed urgently into her belly.