Mountain Mystic (8 page)

“I’d rather not wait until tomorrow to check the machine. I don’t have patients yet technically, but the hospital might have called.”

“Then come in. Just don’t expect me to ignore temptation should opportunity present itself.”

“It won’t present itself,” Victoria promised with a confidence she didn’t feel.

“Give me a minute. I’ll arrange something.”

Exasperated, Victoria walked back into the house. “Don’t bother. I’m not in the market for a … relationship.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” he asked, and walked back into the living room.

Fuming, Victoria followed him. “Wake up, Joshua. You might be hiding out from the world up here, but even you should know these are the nineties. Free love
has been replaced by safe sex. Monogamy is in; casual sex is out.”

Chuckling, Joshua grabbed the phone from a shelf on a wall-to-wall bookcase which was filled with carved stone bowls and pottery cups that were artfully arranged. He held the phone out to her. When she reached for it, he didn’t let go. He said, “I knew the first time I saw you that there wouldn’t be anything casual about sex with you.”

God, she hated the way he could make her cheeks heat up and jumble her thoughts so she couldn’t think of anything to say, witty or otherwise. He stood there, holding on to the phone and looking perfectly innocent, as though he were responding to a comment she’d made about the weather instead of sex. To avoid engaging in a tug-of-war over the phone, she had no choice but to wait until he let go.

“You know what amazes me?” he asked. “As long as you’re talking about sex in the abstract, you don’t bat an eye. But you blush like hell when it gets up close and personal. How long since you’ve been out on a date, Victoria?”

“I’ve had more important things to do with my time,” she said, managing to find her voice again.

“Like sticking your nose in textbooks.” He let go of the phone. “Answer the question. Have you been out on an honest-to-God, dinner-and-a-movie date since the divorce?”

Victoria studied the keypad of the telephone for a moment and decided that if they were going to play twenty questions, she was going to ask her fair share,
too, when it was her turn. She tapped the phone against her thigh and said, “No, I haven’t been out on a date in a while. I’ll even tell you why, since my story is short and utterly predictable. It was a bad marriage, and I’m not eager to jump back in the saddle.”

“So I’m paying for someone else’s mistakes?”

“How do you know it wasn’t all my fault?” she asked.

He shot her an irritated glare for sidestepping the original question. With one finger under her chin, he tilted her face up. “Was your marriage important to you?”

A prickly feeling ran up her spine, and Victoria had the strangest feeling that if she weren’t careful, Joshua would see right into her soul. “Yes, it was.”

“I believe you, because I saw you today, dealing with people, dealing with something that mattered to you. You’re not the kind of woman who’d let her marriage slip through her fingers for lack of effort.” Backing away, Joshua ordered, “Answer the question, Vicky. Am I paying for his mistakes or not?”

Victoria let out the breath she’d been holding. “Yeah, that about sums it up. Better safe than sorry is my new motto. What about you, Joshua? Why aren’t you involved with someone? Or are you?”

For a heartbeat, Joshua thought about answering truthfully and telling her that he was involved with too many people, most of them dead. But he couldn’t tell her without explaining, and he didn’t want to explain yet.

“You’re as close to an involvement as I’ve gotten in
a long time. I came up here to start over, to get a little peace and quiet.”

“Then kissing me doesn’t make a whole lot of sense!”

“Some things just happen, love. Whether we’re ready for them or not. You surprised the hell out of me. The last complication I wanted was a woman. Then there you were, right smack in the middle of my bed. I figured the guy upstairs was trying to tell me something. What do you think it was?”

“I wouldn’t begin to guess.” Victoria decided it was time to end the questions, so she waved the phone in silent explanation that she needed to make the call. She punched in the number for her office. “Could I have some paper and a pencil?”

“On the end table behind you.”

While Victoria waited for her machine to pick up and then replay the messages, she noticed the Indian arrowheads in shadowboxes on Joshua’s walls. “Did you find all these yourself? There must be—”

“Over two hundred. I found most of them when I was a kid.”

“They’re beautiful,” she mused as she stared at the largest of the boxes, which contained the head of a tomahawk flanked by arrowheads so pristine, they didn’t look like they’d ever been used. “They’re all so different.”

“Different time periods. Different cultures. Different game to be hunted. Different skills.”

Victoria wanted to ask more, but her messages started to play, and she had to forget about the shadowboxes.
After a few minutes of writing she pulled the phone away from her ear and asked, “How do I hang this thing up?”

“Here. I’ll do it.”

When he reached for the receiver, he saw Victoria catch her breath. Joshua clicked the phone off and dropped into a large leather recliner that swallowed even him. “You can relax, Victoria. Now that I know the rules, I won’t cross the line again until you invite me.”

“Are you offering a truce?”

“I guess so. You haven’t left me much choice.” Joshua thought he saw some of the tension leave her as she put down the pencil and tore off the top sheet of paper on which she’d written her notes. As she folded the sheet, he suggested, “Sit down. Tell me what you think about the house. You’re my first visitor.”

“Do you want my honest opinion?”

“No. I want you to lie and say it’s a great house.”

“But it is.” Victoria admired the long wall of windows on the far side of the room which looked out over the mountains. Unfortunately, the forested peaks were fading from view as night fell. “The scenery is remarkable, and the furniture is simply amazing. It’s so … big.”

“I had to have that sofa made to order.”

Glancing at a piece of furniture that could have passed for a cruise ship, Victoria asked, “Why?”

“What good is a nap if you can’t get comfortable because your feet are dangling over the edge?”

Victoria laughed. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have that problem. My feet barely make it to the end of the sofa.”

He remembered how he’d pulled her up to meet his kiss, how small she’d felt in his arms. “Yours may not, but mine definitely hang over.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.” Victoria sat in the corner of the long sofa and crossed her legs.

He looked at her expectantly, prompting her with the lift of his eyebrows.

“Stop looking at me like that. I gave you my opinion. It’s a great house. Really. I love rich earth tones. I think the Carol Grigg watercolors are incredible, especially the big one behind you of the Indian woman leading the horse. What’s it called?”

“
She Walks with Horses.
” Joshua held his hand up in the Boy Scout oath. They both grinned.

“Appropriate. I’ve always admired her work. She has this gift for capturing the past and making you feel the moment with those moody shades of plum and blue—”

“I’m glad you like my taste in art,” Joshua interrupted. “Now tell me what you really think about my house.”

Victoria sighed. “Friend to friend? Real truth?”

“Real truth. I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

“This house looks like it’s waiting for someone to move in. Everything’s too perfect, too new.” She carefully folded her hands on her crossed knee and waited for his reaction.

“Tell me what you mean,” he said, scooting to the edge of his seat.

“I grew up in houses like this. Mess it up a little, for God’s sake. It’s beautiful, but it’s got no personality. I like a place you can walk into and feel vibrations from the memories. You should be able to sit in an easy chair and get a sense of what kind of person molded it. There’s nothing of anybody here.”

She missed the stunned look on Joshua’s face at her comment because she got up and walked over to the shelves of cups and bowls, picking up a piece of the reproduction pottery. “Take these, for instance. They’re lined up and lighted like museum pieces.”

An odd smile turned up Joshua’s mouth, and he stood to take the fat goblet from her. “That’s because they are.”

All the color drained from Victoria’s face as she gently handed it to him. For a moment a memory flashed and then faded too quickly for her to grasp. Joshua returned the piece to the shelf.

“I’m so sorry.” She stepped away from him. “I am so sorry. I thought a decorator found these to go with along with the arrowhead collection.”

“No. They’re mine.”

“Is archaeology a hobby of yours?” Victoria asked, and tilted her head in interest. “Are you one of those amateur diggers?”

“Not really.” Technically, that was true. It had been his occupation, not his avocation. He changed the subject before she could ask him where he’d gotten the artifacts. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, no.” She checked her watch. “I should get ready for tomorrow. I’ve got my first appointments at the Bodewell clinic.”

“There you go again. Doing what you should,” he teased with a warm smile. “Maybe another time?”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Victoria said even though she knew spending time with Joshua wasn’t a good idea. She said good night at the door and waved once when she pulled away in the truck.

Standing in the doorway, Joshua watched her go until her taillights had disappeared. What she’d said about his house was true. Except for books, the arrowheads, and the collection, everything was new. Brand new. He hadn’t thought anyone but him would notice how sterile it was. But Victoria had. She’d seen it the moment she walked inside.

Maybe that was why she didn’t trust him. Maybe she was worried that his house was a reflection of an empty soul. Regardless of the attraction between them, she wasn’t ready to take another chance. She didn’t trust him because she didn’t know who he was; he could show her. She was warm, caring, intelligent, and nursing a bruised heart. She didn’t want anything from him except friendship; well, that was a lot less than people usually expected of him. She was willing to be friends, but not lovers.

Joshua smiled. He could work with that.

Finally, the cabin felt like home. Victoria surveyed her efforts of the past two weeks. A chenille bedspread
with a white background and climbing-rose floral design perked up the bedroom area. New throws which picked up the mauve and green of the bedspread covered the armchair and couch. The kitchen table had a plastic coaster under one leg to stabilize it, but Victoria didn’t think it was noticeable.

Her pride and joy, however, was the new phone on the wrought iron bedside table. She’d waited what seemed like forever to have the lines run to the cabin, and she was itching to try it out.

“Who can I call?” she asked the empty cabin.

She didn’t want to call home and have her mother ask her yet again if she was really happy. That left friends, but she didn’t have any friends. At least not within this area code. She had patients and colleagues, but no real friends yet.

Except Joshua.
Over the past couple of weeks, because of her busy appointment schedule, Victoria had tried to keep her thoughts about Joshua to a minimum. Except her thoughts weren’t
friendly.
They went way beyond friendship. They went way beyond thoughts. Technically, they were daydreams. But he was still the only friend she had.

Giving in, she picked up the phone and dialed. After four rings he answered.

“Hello.” His voice was rough and hoarse, as though she’d woken him from a nap. She could imagine him—shirtless, of course—grabbing the phone off the end table and pushing up to a sitting position on that long couch of his. Then he’d use his fingers to comb his hair out of his eyes.

“Hi,” she said a little shakily, wondering what he’d do if he knew her thoughts. He’d made it abundantly clear that the only obstacle between them and an affair was her insistence that they were friends.

“Hi, yourself,” he said, his voice snapping to attention. “Did we have plans?”

Victoria smiled and twirled the phone cord around her index finger. She could get used to the concern in his voice. It made her feel like she belonged. “No plans. The phone’s all hooked up. I had to call somebody.”

“Then I’m flattered it was my body you called.”

She could feel the smile all the way through the phone. His voice did unbelievable things to her bones, and her reaction got worse every time she was around him. “Thanks for asking the crew to run my line on Saturday so I didn’t have to cancel any appointments.”

“I guess you owe me one.”

“I guess I do.” Victoria lay back on the bed. “I owe you several.”

“What would you say if I told you that you could wipe the slate clean?”

“I’m all for that. What do I have to do? Rob the bank in Bodewell? Scrub your bathroom with my toothbrush?”

“Go to a dance with me.” His voice reverberated through her as he said, “Tonight.”

Victoria sat up, one leg sliding off the bed and resting on the floor. “Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. It’s nothing fancy.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Joshua interrupted. “It’s an annual fund-raiser for the academic scholarship fund. What’s the problem with a couple of friends showing up at the Harvest Dance together and having a good time? So … what do you say?”

“I thought you didn’t like crowds,” Victoria asked, scrambling for time.
A dance with Joshua. Bad idea, Victoria.

“I don’t, but you’ve turned down all of my friendly dinner invitations. I thought maybe a crowd would make you more comfortable.”

“I don’t know.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Dancing? You and me?”

“It’s the least you can do, Victoria. You have rattled
my skeleton over every pothole in these mountains.”

“You picked all the roads!”