Bound to Happen (13 page)

Unbeckoned and from out of nowhere, tears clouded her eyes. She wanted him to continue; she wanted to open up to him, but not just physically. Tiny drops rolled down her cheeks. Joe saw them and hesitated briefly, astutely, before he lapped them up with his tongue and went back to her lips. This time, however, he wasn’t overbearing.

He removed his hand from the wall behind her and cupped her face tenderly. He placed a chaste kiss to her lips, then sealed it there, ever so gently, with the pad of his thumb. “Leslie. I wouldn’t ever force you to do anything you didn’t want to do. Nothing. I want you. I guess that’s becoming obvious, isn’t it? But not by force.” He paused. “The garden is there to keep you busy. But not by force. Never by force.”

They stood there for several more moments, both refusing to release the energy they had created. Joe removed the remaining few tears on Leslie’s face with a soft stroke of the back of his hand. “You okay?” She nodded numbly. “I’m not going to apologize for this either. I enjoyed it too much. And you don’t have to work in the garden. But I’m asking you to please stay outside for a while, so I can get some work done. Okay?”

She nodded once more and sucked in a huge breath as he moved away from her. He glanced back at her once before rounding the corner of the cabin. His look had been filled with mixed emotions, and she knew he was feeling the same turbulence inside that she felt.

She hadn’t flexed a muscle since he’d pinned her to the wall. Long after he left her, she remained rooted to the same spot, too weak to do anything more than breathe in and out. She tried to decipher the meaning of her response to Joe’s assault on her senses, but her mind was a blank, an unearthly, rapturous void of nothingness for the first time in her life. It was as if Joe Bonner had the power to kiss away her ability to reason, to judge, and to make choices. Curiously she didn’t perceive this as an altogether bad thing. She found she liked it. Being totally sensorial was a new experience she wouldn’t mind repeating. But if a next time came, she wanted Joe to know what he was doing to her. She wanted him to come to her with gentleness in his heart; tenderly, the way he had the first night when he’d listened to her talk; with consideration, the way he had when he’d tended to her blisters; with real emotions, the way he had when he thought she was hurt. Not with anger.

Next time. The idea appealed to her. She tried to remember the last time she wanted a man as much as she wanted Joe and found that it never existed. Her body had ached for the closeness only a man could supply, late in the night, alone in the darkness. But no man had ever awakened images in her mind of the two of them together, their bodies entwined and throbbing with passion. Joe did. Joe brought to life so many things in her that she never knew were there: Desire and excitement, need and a wish to please, anger, frustration, and shame.

Leslie released a slow breath. Joe made her feel, that was for sure. It seemed odd that she could almost hate him and want to know him better in the same second, but she did.

Inside the cabin, Joe began to plunk away at the computer keys again, slowly and with a lot of backspacing. His concentration was poor, and every other word was showing up misspelled. It didn’t matter if Leslie was in the cabin or not, she was on his mind, jamming his brain waves.

Every time he turned around, everywhere he looked, there she was with those deep blue eyes sparkling with humor or anger or curiosity. He could feel her all around him, warm and yielding. He was having a hell of a time keeping his hands off her. His resolve not to get involved with her was wearing thin. He couldn’t remember wanting a woman more. But Leslie Rothe?

He hadn’t fully recovered from her little stunt earlier in the day. The panic he’d felt at seeing her lying there in the dirt, motionless, came back too fresh and too easily. And moments ago outside, watching her raven black hair blowing in the wind, her chin set rebelliously, her stance become defiant, he couldn’t seem to control himself. There was something in him that wanted to tame and possess her. He wanted to teach her to love, to give and accept love with her body. He wanted her to trust him. He wanted to hear his name on her lips. Joe. Joe. Joe.

The trouble was, did he want it because she was a beautiful woman who had not the slightest interest in him? Or was he truly attracted to Leslie? Did he want her to want him because she’d never loved someone before? Or because he needed her to love him? She was a worldly woman with an innocent heart, and he, maybe better than most people, knew how fragile a heart was. If he set out to win her heart, he should damn well want to keep it. That would only be fair.

Determinedly, he turned back to his work. He’d give this thing with Leslie a little more time to see if his first instincts were right. Then, before he got carried away for all the wrong reasons, he’d arrange for an early rescue.

A few hours later, a grubby, dirty Leslie leaned her hoe against the outside wall of the cabin and tried in vain to brush the part of the garden she was wearing back down where it belonged. With a critical eye, she surveyed her efforts. For someone who grew her own herbs in lovely coordinated pots on her kitchen windowsill, she hadn’t done such a bad job on this much less chic way of farming. In fact, she almost wished she’d be there when it finally came up from the ground and became fruitful … or in this case vegetableful. She’d love to see the expression on Joe’s face when he found he was the owner of an anomalous garden.

The idea had occurred to her shortly after the giddiness caused by Joe’s kiss had worn off. It was the perfect way to pay him back for every mean and cruel thing he’d done since they met. As a bonus to the idea, it was also something she could cherish in her heart and laugh about the next time he was nasty to her—and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind about there being a next time for that.

She’d spent most of the afternoon hoeing wonderfully straight and even furrows in the loose soil so as not to arouse his suspicions. The next day, she would begin her creative seed planting. Although, if he were especially kind and friendly toward her later, she always could change her plan.

With the light and airy step of a person about to wreak revenge on the enemy, Leslie all but skipped up to the cabin door. She listened at the door to hear if Joe was still working. There was no sound, but then computers didn’t make much noise. Prudently, she knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she repeated the gesture with more force.

A sleepy-eyed Joe answered her summons.

“Can I come in now? Or should I wait till you finish your nap?” she asked, irked that he’d been sleeping while she’d been outside breaking her back over his garden.

“Give me a break,” he muttered, still drowsy. “I’m not a rock. I haven’t been able to sleep as well as you have the past couple of nights.”

“Oh, sure. Blame that on me too.” Stepping past him into the cabin, she caught a look in his eyes that actually did indicate he accused her of being the cause. She ignored it as a luscious aroma reached her nose and made her salivate. “You cooked dinner,” she said, amazed.

“Well, what do you think I did before you came along? Call for Chinese takeout?”

“No. But I guess I assumed …” She let her words trail off, realizing she had misjudged him again.

“You assumed you’d have to do all the cooking because you’re a woman,” he finished for her. “That would have been very unliberated of me to presume such a thing, now, wouldn’t it?”

Leslie smiled at him. “Yes, it would have been.” She was impressed that he hadn’t. It wasn’t exactly in keeping with the character traits he’d presented to her so far. “Do I have time to wash up and change clothes?”

“Yes. And am I to assume that’s my signal to take a hike?”

Again, she smiled, appreciating that he hadn’t made one of his usual lurid comments. She got the distinct impression he was trying to be nice to her, to get along with her: Perhaps he was making amends for his earlier behavior, or maybe he was trying to bridge the gap that had formed between them when they’d swung their cars off the road. Whatever, his reasons, Leslie was grateful. She didn’t want to fight with him anymore. She wanted to know him better.

L
ESLIE’S SINK BATH
and Joe’s dinner went uninterrupted by strife. Joe had prepared venison, which Leslie wasn’t at all sure she was going to like. But not wanting to offend him again, she tasted it and found it not too bad. She thought she might even grow to like it.

A fire snapped and glowed in the fireplace, and kerosene lamps were lit. Aside from the little gasoline generator that ran only three hours a night in order to keep the battery-operated refrigerator charged, there was no electricity. Even Joe’s computer ran on batteries, but he seemed to have an ample supply of those. Leslie found it extremely inconvenient that nothing was instant or laborless, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She simply added it to the reasons why she preferred to stay in the city; although, she had to admit, the firelight made things very cozy and romantic.

Mountain nights, however, proved to be just as boring as mountain days. There were no reports for her to review, no places to go with her friends, nothing to see or watch or listen to.

“What are you working on?” she asked Joe in a quiet voice, desperate for conversation.

“Can we talk about this later? I’m on a roll here.”

“Sure. Sorry.” With that avenue closed to her, she had nothing left to do but think. And invariably, her thoughts turned to questions. It was her nature to question. “What happens when we run out of food? I mean, even after you’ve gone back for the food in your truck?”

“I’ll kill something, and we’ll have berries for dessert,” Joe said absently without looking up from his writing.

“It’s much colder here in the winter. Will we be warm enough? With just this fire? You don’t usually stay all winter, do you?”

“I go back to Denver in the fall. And we’ll be rescued before then. Don’t worry.” He leaned over to see what he’d typed, corrected an error, and continued.

“But what if my family can’t find the cars. The mountains are the last place … Well, they won’t even bother looking in the mountains, because it’s not someplace I’d normally go.” She felt like a fool for not having thought of this before. She should have been more worried all along. “We’re going to die up here.”

The plunking stopped, and Joe turned to face her with a droll expression. “I have a family too. And friends. And a mortgage to pay. If I don’t show up eventually, somebody is bound to come looking. Better yet, I have an agent that’s half bloodhound. When I don’t meet my deadline because of your incessant chattering, he’ll come after us. But that won’t exactly be a joyous occasion, if you get my drift.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, downcast. “I’m bored.”

“What you need is a really good book to read,” he said enthusiastically. He stood and plucked a book from one of the shelves overhead, then turned back to Leslie with a smug look on his face. “This one just happens to be one of my favorites.”

The book he’d chosen for her was oversize and almost two inches thick. On the glossy cover was a picture similar to other pictures she’d seen in magazines and newspapers. A large-eyed, frail-boned, emaciated child stared back at her pathetically. Joe had written a book on the African famine. And he’d been right, again. If this was a sample of his writing, it was involved and more than Leslie cared to take on as light reading. Not that she was totally without feeling. She made her share of charitable contributions every year. It made her feel good, and it looked good on her tax forms. But she’d had no real interest in following up on what good her money was doing. Other people made their own careers fighting for causes, her career was in front of a computer.

“You wrote this?” she asked. Joe didn’t seem the type to get involved in human causes. Hiding himself away in the mountains didn’t exactly denote an interest in society.

“Yep. These too.” He passed her several more volumes. All were beautifully covered and impressive, but they were all on subjects such as arms control, vanishing species, and nuclear waste. All were, in Leslie’s opinion, terribly depressing. “Take your pick. They’re all great reading,” Joe boasted.

Feeling as if she were being pushed from behind and hating to disappoint or insult Joe, who obviously was proud of his work, she took the book on vanishing species and laid the others aside. Who knew, there might be some valuable information in it she could use, like bears spend their summer vacations in Alaska and cougars are really vegetarians.

The first chapter had vivid pictures and a graphic description of the plight of baby seals. Her stomach rolled at the sight of the sad-eyed pups, beaten and bloodied for their pelts. Joe addressed other problems dealing with animals that were disappearing by the hundreds of thousands every year and not being allowed to reproduce. He went into great detail on some that were nearly extinct, including the American bald eagle, and what measures were being taken to save them. He was an excellent writer. He undertook the issue with a great deal of common sense and compassion, and left, at least his newest reader, deeply moved and outraged.

She wasn’t halfway through the book before she felt the overwhelming urge to cry again. Not for the animals she was reading about but for herself. Where had she been for so long? She was aware, vaguely, that there were endangered animals, but she’d always thought of it as someone else’s problem, someone else’s job to take care of them. Consequently, she hadn’t cared what was happening. It didn’t involve her directly, so why should she? But she should have, because it did.

What if the people managing these animals were as stupid and unfeeling as she had been with the mountain? What if they allowed the birds and animals to disappear off the face of the earth never to exist again? Just as she had allowed, even encouraged, the destruction of an entire mountain that never could be replaced, for the sake of her job, for money. What then?

Heartsick she flipped the book closed and looked over at Joe, seeing him in a whole new light. He might be obnoxious and pompous sometimes, but she had to credit him with a lot more integrity and conscience than she had. He finished the sentence he was working on, tacking on the period with great flare, then he turned to her.