Whirlwind (8 page)

Accusingly, she said, “You just said that to get me going, didn't you? Just to make me mad.”

He managed to control his smile again and said mildly, “I'd rather have you on the defensive than hammering at me all the time, I guess. See you later.”

“Where are you going?”

He'd picked up his sandwich and bottle of beer and was heading for the door. “To eat my dinner.”

“Let me come, too,” Liza cried, hopping off the counter, grabbing her meal and tailing Cliff into the hallway. Now that she had his attention, she wanted to keep it. Exploring Cliff Forrester's personality was even more fun than planning the redecoration of the lodge. “Wait for me!”

“There's no need to keep me company,” he said over his shoulder.

“I'm lonesome! Besides, a stimulating dinner conversation is good for the digestion. It's a proven fact. Where are you going? The old dining room? The lounge? Or how about a picnic by the boathouse?”

“Really, Miss Baron, this lodge is a very big place. You said so yourself. There's no reason why two people can't
stay here for a short while without bumping into each other all the time.”

“What's the matter? Don't you like my company?”

“I don't like
anybody's
company, as a matter of fact. That's why I came here in the first place.”

“Why are you so dead set on being alone?”

“That's the way I like it.”

“My granddad says you were in Vietnam. What's the matter? You have a rough time over there or something?”

Cliff turned in the hallway then, and for a sizzling moment, he said nothing. Liza couldn't see his face, for evening had fallen and the light wasn't on. But she could feel her heartbeat skip, and she realized she had gone too far.

Coldly quiet, Cliff said, “What do you think you know about me?”

Liza took a pace backward. “N-nothing.”

There was something menacing in the way his voice dropped and his body went utterly still. Tension crackled in the air.

Quietly he said, “I have not gone prying into your private life, Miss Baron.”

She swallowed hard. “I know.”

“Nor have I demanded that you leave.”

“Okay, okay—”

“But I think it would be best for both of us if we agree right now to give each other some space. I want to be left alone.”

That command was intended as an exit line, Liza realized, because Cliff turned and went into the lounge with his meal in hand. He put the bottle and plate on one of the small tables by the hearth, then hunkered down to wrestle with some logs and tinder. Liza couldn't stop herself. She eased into the room and watched Cliff work. She admired the tight stretch of his shirt across the muscle of his shoulders and the narrow curve of his back. His body was spare and functional—very male, she decided.

She wondered how it would feel to smooth her hands across those broad shoulders, to ease away the tension that was so obvious to her eye and perhaps coax something other than commands out of Cliff.

In a minute or so, he'd built a fire and struck a wooden match from the box kept on top of the log pile. At once, a small flame leaped up, casting a warm light across the floor of the lounge. The soft crackles of the flame were the only sound in the room.

Cliff stood up and turned. Surprise flashed across his face, then irritation at finding Liza still present.

Snapping out of her momentary daydream, and feigning a cocky swagger, Liza sauntered the rest of the way into the room. She took another swig of beer. “You really want me to leave you alone?”

“Completely,” Cliff said, remaining on his feet.

Liza curled up in the old cushioned chair across from the one he'd obviously chosen. Her heart was beating very fast, but she attempted to appear utterly calm. “It's not healthy for a guy your age to stay all by himself all the time, you know.”

“What does my age have to do with it?”

“Nothing, really. Nobody should be a complete hermit, if you ask me. It's not natural.” She began to eat her sandwich again and said, “I mean, your sex life alone must have suffered enormously.”

Cliff's hands immediately tightened into fists. “My sex life is none of your business.”

“That was just an example.” Liza waved her hand dismissively. “Think about it for a second. If you're alone all the time,
everything
must get rusty. Why, even your vocabulary must suffer. If you don't use it, pretty soon you'll be talking like a toddler, you know? And social graces must be exercised regularly or else—”

Cliff burst out, “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what?”

“Chattering about completely ridiculous subjects when all I want to do is eat my meal!”

“Who's stopping you?” Liza demanded. “Sit down and eat, for crying out loud!”

Cliff threw himself into his chair, but didn't reach for his sandwich. He snatched up his beer, however, and glaring at Liza, took a healthy swig.

She chose to ignore the rage in his expression and continued to nibble her sandwich. She wanted to know more about Cliff. And since he wasn't very forthcoming on his own, she was being forced to drag the information out of him. Trouble was, how hard could she push before he blew up?

Faking a disarming smile, she said, “Being alone has a lot of disadvantages. I mean, what happens if you accidentally lock yourself in the bathroom? Or if you get dressed in the morning and forget to zip your pants? Or—”

“I don't care if my pants are zipped or not. There's nobody here to see me.”

Liza grinned lasciviously. “Does that mean you run around naked sometimes? Golly, Forrester, I didn't think about that! I'll bet you have more fun than I first figured. Do you ever play pretend games when nobody's watching? Or make love to inflatable dolls or something?”

“You're a pistol,” Cliff said wearily, reaching for his sandwich at last.

She wolfed down the last bite of her meal and licked her fingers happily, glad that he hadn't exploded in the face of her needling. “I don't think you're the inflatable doll type, actually. But weird magazines, maybe? I mean, what do you
do
for sex, Forrester? You're still young enough to think about it, right?”

“Of course I... Oh, hell, why can't you leave me alone?”

Liza sat forward. “What do you think about sex, Forrester? I'd like to know, really. Do you drive that old
pickup into town on Friday nights and hang out at a bar looking for available women?”

“No,” he said shortly.

“Go to church on Sundays so you can make polite conversation with the girls in the choir?”

“No!”

“Hide in the bushes to watch some nice lady undress every Saturday night?”

“Has anybody ever slapped you for having such a smart mouth?”

“Do you want to?”

“No,” Cliff said. He cast his sandwich back onto the plate and added, “But you've certainly spoiled my appetite.”

“In that case, do you mind if I finish that for you? I'm starved!”

He glowered at her as Liza popped out of her chair and snatched his sandwich. She devoured it quickly, strolling around the familiar old room to absorb some of the details she remembered from her youth. The family hadn't lived at Timberlake after she was born, of course, but Liza and her siblings had often entered the lodge without permission and had considered the place their private playground. How many long, warm afternoons had she indulged in girlish games in these old rooms?

After finishing Cliff's sandwich, Liza toyed with the keys of the old piano and found the instrument woefully out of tune. A lump of sadness rose in her throat.

“My dad used to be a great piano player.”

“Oh?”

“He was a big hit at parties. I took lessons for a while, but I didn't like the practicing.”

“I'm not surprised.”

As the memories threatened to overwhelm her, Liza quickly turned to the tall windows that looked out over the
lake and saw the gleam of water through the trees as the last daylight faded over the horizon.

She forced herself to sound cheery. “Boy, I have a lot of memories of this place!”

“Good or bad?”

Afraid Cliff was more observant than she'd first thought, Liza said quickly, “Good, of course. Amanda and Jeff—my brother and sister—and I used to play up here by the hour. Some of my cousins, too, until they started worrying about ghosts. Mother never knew we got in here, of course—”

“Would she have objected?”

Liza shrugged. “It was our secret place, and we wanted to keep it that way. Nobody else came here. Mother hated the lodge.”

Cliff shifted forward in his chair, as if his interest had been piqued. “I've noticed Alyssa never comes near. Why is that?”

“I'm not sure exactly. She lived here when she was a little girl. Maybe she associates it with my grandmother.”

“What's so bad about your grandmother?”

Liza smiled indulgently. “You mean you don't know the story of Margaret Ingalls, my wicked grandmama?”

“Why should I?”

Liza laughed. “Because she was the most exciting person to ever live in Tyler! Compared to her, the rest of this damn town has been
asleep!
She disappeared, you know.”

“What?” Cliff looked genuinely surprised. “I thought she died young.”

“Oh, no. Maybe my family likes to pretend that's what happened, but it wasn't that way at all. She ran away.”

“We're talking about Judson's wife? Alyssa's mother?”

“Right. My grandmother. Margaret was the original party girl. A true free spirit. She came from Chicago and hated the small-town life. She spent a few years turning the lodge into a palace, but she must have gotten bored with
that after a while. There are some who think she ran off with one of her lovers.”

“One of her—”

“Does that shock you?” Liza asked, amused.

“Women didn't do that sort of thing in those days.”

“Margaret did. She did whatever she pleased.”

“Ah,” said Cliff.

Liza frowned, suddenly not liking his tone. “What does that mean?”

He eyed her steadily and said nothing.

“You think I'm like her, don't you?”

“Aren't you?”

“In some ways, maybe. But not all! I'd never do what she did—abandon the people I love.”

Very quietly, Cliff said, “Isn't that what you've done?”

“Shut up! What do you know?”

“Nothing at all,” Cliff said calmly. “I merely—”

“I have not abandoned anyone! I went away when things got intolerable, that's all. My family knew where I was. We simply chose not to communicate! Margaret left a husband and child. All I did was go away to find some room to breathe!”

Cliff's dark eyes were penetrating. “Did you find it?”

“Yes!”

“But the air was a little too intoxicating, wasn't it?”

Liza frowned. “What d'you mean?”

“You couldn't handle it—the freedom you wanted. So now you're back here again.”

“That's not it at all!” Liza could hardly catch her breath, she was so angry. “I'm here because of economic reasons—nothing more. Now this lodge idea has grabbed me and...well, I think I can turn it into a job. I'll stay until it's done, but then I'm out of here!”

“If that's the case, I'll do anything I can to speed up the process.”

Cliff meant it sarcastically, Liza was sure. But she
pounced just the same. “So you'll be my partner, Forrester?”

“I didn't say that,” he said, alarmed. “God, being your partner in any venture would be—”

“Wonderful?”

“Hellish,” Cliff corrected dourly. “You're a loose cannon, Miss Baron.”

“And you're a stick-in-the-mud. You're right, it would be hellish! You'd probably choke my creativity!”

He hooted. “This place needs more than creativity. A lot more!”

“And I haven't got what it takes?”

“Energy doesn't make up for lack of substance.”

“Oooh, you make me mad!” Liza stalked to the window and grabbed the latch, determined to get a breath of fresh air. The window stuck, and she smacked it with the flat of her hand. When it finally crashed open, the whole room suddenly filled with a brisk breeze. The flames in the fireplace danced wildly, throwing weird shadows on the walls. Liza leaned on the sill, trying to get a grip on her composure.

“How long are you going to leave that open?” Cliff asked after a time. “It's cold.”

“It is not!” Liza snapped, still thoroughly steamed. “It's summer.”

“You're so upset you can't feel how cold—”

“I am not upset! I want some fresh air, that's all. Why, I might even sleep with all the windows wide open in my room tonight! What do you think of that?”

Cliff shrugged. “Go ahead, but you'll freeze.”

“Oh, don't be such a fusspot!”

“I'm not a fusspot. It gets chilly at night up here, even in the summer. And there's no central heat, you know.”

She spun around and sat on the sill defiantly, not sure why she was so infuriated. “Well, I'm not going to invite
you into my bed to keep me warm, if that's what you're hoping for.”

Cliff's expression hardened. “I was not hoping!”

“No?” Getting to her feet, Liza strolled provocatively toward him. “Come on, Forrester, you think I'm sexy, don't you?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “I think I've made my feelings about you perfectly clear.”

Liza laughed at him, one hand cocked on her hip in a deliberately taunting posture. “Your words say no, but your eyes say yes.”

“You're impossible!”

“And you're probably dying to be with a real woman after all these years. I'd better lock my door, hadn't I? Just to keep myself safe from you.”