Any Thursday (Donovans of the Delta) (11 page)

When Hannah came out of the bathroom, his fingers went still and his thoughts scattered like frightened mice. Her hair was wet, slicked back, as black and shiny as the pelt of a seal. There was not a trace of makeup on her face, but she was still as vivid as a poppy. Standing almost shyly in the bathroom doorway, wearing a red terry-cloth robe, she was the most magnificently gorgeous creature he’d ever seen.

He cleared away the sudden frog in his throat. “Finished already? Judging from your bathing habits in Greenville, I expected you to be in there at least an hour.”

“You can’t take a bubble bath in a shower.” She moved across the room with that grace that had captured his imagination—if not his heart—in Greenville. When she leaned over his shoulder, he caught a whiff of her. She smelled like flower-scented soap and herbal shampoo—a heady combination.

“What are you working on?”

“A little background for the story. Will the typing bother you?”

“No. As a matter of fact, I find the sound soothing, like rain against the roof.”

“Good. I’ll work awhile, then.”

“Well . . . good night, Jim.”

“Good night, Hannah.”

Although he turned back to his typing, he was aware of every movement she made as she prepared for bed. When her robe hit the loft floor with a soft plunk, desire punched him in the gut. The squeaking of her bedsprings almost did him in. He nearly bolted from the cabin. Sleddog had told him there were bears in the woods, but at the moment he’d rather face a grizzly than face a night sleeping in the same room with Hannah Donovan.

Jim gritted his teeth and kept on typing.

 o0o

She’d lied, Hannah thought, as she lay wide-eyed in her bed, gazing through the skylight at the strange summer glow of night. Every tap of the typewriter keys reminded her that Jim Roman was in the room. He’d invaded her sanctuary, her haven, her workplace. What was worse, he’d invaded her heart. When he’d stalked her in the kitchen and taken her in his arms, she’d known she was fighting a losing battle. She’d no more remained untouched in Greenville than she could fly to the moon without a rocket. He’d touched her: He’d awakened her passion, stirred her imagination, and . . . yes, she had to admit the truth, he’d even touched her heart.

She clenched her hands into fists and willed herself not to toss and turn. Why did he have to come back? Just when she was getting everything back under control, why did the West Coast Warrior have to invade her senses? She didn’t want to lose control.

The truth bolted through her with a force that almost shot her out of the bed. That was it, she thought. All the while she’d been saying that her career was hard and demanding and left no room for a man, much less a family, all the while she’d been blaming her one ill-fated affair with Rai, she’d been hiding the truth, even from herself. She was afraid. She was scared to death to relinquish control of even one little part of her life to somebody else.

Hannah loves to be in charge. Hannah loves to boss things
. She almost could hear the loving voices of her family. What they didn’t know was that the woman who had faced down a rampaging bull moose and a giant grizzly was afraid of a little thing called love. Why? Her parents and her brothers had beautiful marriages. Why should love scare her?

Staring up through the skylight, she had another revelation.
Hallie
. All their lives the twins had had similar experiences. They skinned their knees at the same time even though they were on different sides of town; they had appendectomies together; they both made the high school debating team; they both won scholarships to college. Hallie’s first experience at love and marriage had been a disaster. Although Hannah wasn’t superstitious, she felt almost a sense of destiny regarding the intertwining of her life with her twin’s. As long as she could remain in control, she would never go through the hell Hallie had.

Hannah had to clench her teeth to keep from groaning. Her fear was cowardly and irrational and totally unscientific. But it was real.

“I must be fatally flawed.”

She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until she heard Jim’s voice. “Did you say something, Hannah?”

“No. Go back to your typing.”

She stared through the skylight, listening to the clatter of typewriter keys and plotting how she would survive the next few days.

 o0o

She’d survive the way she always had—with wit and style.

That was her first thought as she dressed for work the next morning. The first order of the day was to make sure Jim Roman knew exactly who he was dealing with. When she’d finished with him, he’d know that Dr. Hannah Donovan was not a woman to be taken lightly—let alone taken in the kitchen. After this morning there’d be no doubt in his mind that Hannah was a woman best left alone.

She paused at the foot of the stairs and glanced toward Jim’s sleeping bag. One arm thrown across his forehead, he had the tousled look of an innocent little boy. Looks were certainly deceiving, she decided.

“Jim,” she called his name but not very loudly. “Time to rise and shine.” Now she spoke even softer, feeling not the slightest twinge of guilt. After all that business in Greenville—stalking her in her bath, high-handedly taking the stallion away from her, not to mention parading around town in a tablecloth— Jim Roman deserved everything she was going to give him.

A wicked gleam came into her eye as she reached for her tape recorder and turned it on full blast. “Here’s to revenge,” she said as the whistling, blowing, clicking, and calling of humpback whales filled the room.

“What the hell!” Jim sat straight up in his sleeping bag, a wild look in his eyes. He swung his head around, shaking the last dregs of sleep from his mind, then his gaze fell on Hannah. She was standing with her hands on her hips, laughing.

“What is that godawful racket?”

“My whales,” Hannah said innocently. “I thought since you’d come all this way to do a story about them, you might as well get acquainted right away.”

Jim raked his hands through his hair. “Good Lord, what time is it?”

“Five o’clock.”

“Five o’clock!”

“I called you, but you didn’t wake up.”

“Five dammit o’clock.” Groaning, he flopped back onto his down bag. “In San Francisco I don’t go to bed until nearly five o’clock. Would you mind turning that racket off so I can sleep?”

Hannah turned the volume down, but only a little bit. The song of the humpbacks still resounded through the cabin. “Don’t mind me. I’ll do my research, and you can sleep. Maybe your story will write itself.”

Jim flung back his bag and stood up, as magnificently nude as a Greek statue. “Don’t mind me,” he called over his shoulder as he paraded by, “I have to start the day with a shower.”

Hannah regretted her hasty revenge. Walking to the recorder, she pressed the rewind button. Then she got her pad and a cup of coffee and sat down at her table to work. But it wasn’t the song of the humpback she heard: It was the song of Jim Roman in the shower. He was singing some off-color sailor’s ditty that probably was calculated to make her squirm. She’d be horsewhipped before she’d give him that satisfaction.

When he emerged from the shower, still naked, she looked up, as cool as she could be under the circumstances.

“I leave in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be ready.”

It couldn’t be soon enough to suit her. Seeing Jim Roman in the buff was enough to turn marble statues to putty. And she was no marble statue. She stomped to her recorder and punched it off.

“Don’t forget to wear your coat. It gets cold on the water.”

“That’s not the only place it gets cold.” He fastened his pants and reached for his shirt.

Hannah whirled on him. “What?”

“I said that’s not the only place it gets cold. You must have lowered the temperature in this cabin ten degrees.”

“
You’re
the one who came here. I didn’t invite you.”

“Damned right I came.” He glared at her as he buttoned his shirt up crooked. “It’s strictly business.”

“Oh, really? If that kiss last night was an example of the way you do business, you must have some very satisfied customers.”

Suddenly all the anger drained out of him. “I’ve been a perfect jackass.”

“Not perfect.” She gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, Hannah.” He strode across the room and reached for her.

She stepped back. “Please don’t touch me. That’s what all this is about.”

“I know.” He dropped his hands. “I couldn’t stay away, Hannah. I had to see you one more time. I guess I had to prove to myself that you were just another woman passing through my life.”

“I am, Jim. That’s all I can be—for you or any other man.” She swept her arms wide, encompassing the cabin and all it stood for. “This is my life. It’s harsh and hard, but I love it.”

“I know you do,” he said softly. Leaning over, he brushed his lips across her cheek. “What do you say we start over?” Tipping back on his heels, he grinned at her. “Good morning, Dr. Donovan.”

She smiled. “Good morning, Jim Roman. Are you ready to go to work?”

“Lead the way, Dr. Donovan.”

 o0o

Hannah leaned against the boat railing, the wind ruffling her hair. Her face was alight with excitement as she pointed to Bopeep and gave Jim a running commentary on her work. He checked to make sure his pocket recorder was on, then he went back to what had become his favorite pastime the last few hours—Hannah watching. For the fiftieth time he thought that she was magnificent. She was like one of the wild things that inhabited Glacier Bay, sleek and beautiful and in many ways uncomplicated. Her dedication to her work was total, and her love for the land was astonishing. She got the same pleasure from the jagged cliffs and awesome icebergs of Alaska that he got from the skyscrapers and the Golden Gate bridge of San Francisco.

Worlds apart, he thought, in both location and philosophy. Home to her was merely a place to rest up for her work. Home to him was warm slippers and a glass of wine by the fireside. He thought briefly of his houseboat. Not exactly the house of his dreams, but it would do until the real thing came along—and the right woman.

“Are you listening, Jim?”

He brought his mind to focus on the moment. “To every word. This will be a good story, Hannah. Maybe even one of my best. It makes me wonder if I’m as enchanted with covering the crime scene as I’d always thought.”

She gazed at him. “I wonder too.”

“What?”

She brushed back a lock of hair the wind had whipped into her face. “Oh . . . nothing.” She turned her back on him and faced the water. “As I’ve told you, whales travel in communities called pods. Each pod has its own unique dialect. The dialect of the humpback evolves from year to year, but those of the other species of whale remain the same.”

He crossed over the rail and stood beside her. “You said that mostly males come to the cold arctic waters.”

“Yes. The females prefer to stay in warmer waters to calve and raise their families.”

“How do they mate?”

She knew he was talking about whales, but the way his voice caressed the words, all silky and seductive, made her think of other things. She looked staunchly out over the water, but no matter how hard she concentrated on whales, she still felt overwhelmed by the solid presence of Jim at her side. “The male goes to the female.”

“Yes?” he moved closer, brushing his leg against hers. A slight shiver was the only sign she gave that she’d noticed.

“He returns to warmer waters and searches her out.”

“The male whale.”

“Yes.” She swung her eyes upward to his, and she was caught. “The male searches out the female.” The fire in the center of his eyes warmed her. She felt its heat spread through her body.

“All nature’s creatures seem to obey that order.”

“Yes,” she said. The look they exchanged was long and deep. “He goes to her once a year.”

“Only once?”

“Only once. He stays for several months, then returns to colder waters.”

“And the female conceives?”

“Not always.” She couldn’t pull away from his gaze. “In fact, the female whale gives birth on the average of only once every ten years. Sometimes more often if the species is threatened.”

“Then they must have sex partially for the enjoyment of it.”

“What?”

“The whales.”

“Oh, the whales.”

“Do you think they enjoy sex?”

“I don’t know.”

“It would make an intriguing study, Doctor.”

Although Jim had made no move to touch her, she felt as if he’d stripped her clothes off and laved her body with his tongue. She knew her cheeks must be bright pink.

“If you ever do such a study,” Jim continued, “I’d be glad to help you.”

“On sex?”

“Yes.” He backed away from the railing. “Whales. If you ever decide to do an intensive study on the mating habits of whales, let me know. I want to write the story.”

“Oh, the story.”

“Yes.”

The loud slapping sound startled them both. Hannah glanced over the railing in time to see Bopeep’s mighty flukes bashing the water. She laughed.

“What’s he doing?” Jim hurried back to the rail and leaned over.

“He’s playing. In the summertime whales love to cavort and socialize. Bopeep knows me, so he’s trying to get my attention. Listen.” She hastily lowered the hydrophone into the water as the giant humpback began his mysterious song. “Do you hear that, Jim? That’s his social language. I think Bopeep is trying to communicate with me.”

“He’s probably flirting with you, asking you to head down to warmer waters. I would if I were in his shoes.”

“You would?”

“If I were a whale.”

Turning away from Hannah, Jim reached into his pocket for his pipe. He had a lot of thinking to do, and most of it had nothing whatsoever to do with his magazine story.

 o0o

It was very late when they returned to Hannah’s cabin.

“You keep an exhausting schedule, Dr. Donovan.” Jim hung up their parkas and sprawled into a chair beside the fireplace. “Do you do this every day?”

“In the summertime I do. I have to take advantage of the good weather and the long daylight—and the cooperation of the whales. They return to Glacier Bay in the summer in large numbers.”