SNOWFIRES (4 page)

Soon the pain diminished and warmth seeped
into her foot, up her legs, throughout her body. She closed her
eyes and reveled in the sensation. That such a gruff man could be
so gentle and caring surprised her. For a time she forgot her
hatred of him, her distrust, and saw him as only as a man trapped
with her in this misadventure. When he switched to her other foot
she sighed with pleasure.

Blended with the remnants of barn smells
stuck to their clothes, each time he leaned forward she caught
Trent’s own scent. She’d noticed it at her grandparents’ and in the
car. Not a strong perfume, but an almost wholesome aroma that
reminded her of a pine forest on a sunny day.

His touch mesmerized her, coaxing her into
another world. On this new plane, Trent became a dashing pirate and
she his captured prize. In her mind she saw him as he had stood on
the patio of her grandparents' home that morning, and as he must
have appeared aboard a ship.

The wind molded his clothes to a long, lean
body and he faced into the elements as if to challenge them. She
wanted his touch to continue forever. Higher, she wanted his hands
to travel higher to trace their magic onto every part of her body.
Would he caress this gently in lovemaking? She imagined his kiss,
gentle at first and then growing in intensity as it sent fire
coursing through her.

He changed technique, with one hand on each
foot. The rhythm of his fingers against the muscles of her feet
drew her deeper and deeper into his spell. Back and forth he
massaged, back and forth. Holly melted into her chair.

She visualized him using the same rhythm to
enter her body, and she pulsed with passion at her core. Hot blood
roared through her veins. A spiral of heat coiled in her abdomen
and warm moisture seeped to the juncture of her thighs.

His harsh voice shattered her fantasy world.
"Damn, I should never have let you go with me to the barn. I should
be shot for exposing you to these conditions."

She blinked and took a deep breath, exhaling
slowly. Back in the present, she leaned forward. "It was my choice,
remember? I knew how cold it was, but saw no alternative. Besides,
you must have been just as cold."

"No, I'm used to the outdoors, or was until a
few months ago. Besides, I have on heavy boots and warm socks."
With that he stretched toward the oven and snagged the socks. Just
as gently as he had massaged, he rolled both pairs of the warmed
woolen socks onto her feet. Pure bliss.

"Do you think you can tolerate Martin's boots
yet? You need to keep your feet warm."

At her nod, he helped her slip into the
oversized boots. Even with two pairs of socks, the boots were
large.

"Now let me see your hands."

"They're fine now." In the wake of her
traitorous fantasy, she couldn’t meet Trent's gaze.

He reached for her hands and held them
between his. Not only did this warm them, it sent a slow sizzle
ricocheting through her body. How perfectly her hands fit in his,
how right it seemed to have them there.

For a few seconds he looked at their joined
hands, then slowly raised his beautiful emerald eyes to gaze into
hers. A current of shared awareness as strong as a bolt of
lightning shot between them. He looked as shocked as she was.

With a gasp, he placed her hands in her lap
and picked up the towels and pan of water. "Well, um, you should
sit there a few minutes before you try to walk. I'll just clean up
this mess, and, um, feed the cat and dog."

She experienced a tearing loss as he broke
physical contact and wanted to call him back. Searching for
anything to recover from the intimacy of his look, his touch or the
sound of his voice, Holly seized on the subject of the animals.
"That poor dog would have frozen if we hadn't come when we
did."

He answered without looking at her. "Yeah,
for a watchdog, he seemed awfully glad to see us. His name is Blue
and the cat is Socks."

She rose and tested her feet. Far less than
normal, especially in the awkward-sized boots, but she clomped over
to check their dinner simmering on the stove. Curiosity caused her
to push the issue he avoided earlier.

"You must have lived on a farm at one time."
Her eyes accused him. "You knew how to take care of all those
animals, even how to mix that feed."

"Yeah. You could say I lived on a farm." His
mouth formed a grim line, his jaw clenched.

"Did your parents own a farm?" She knew he
wanted to drop the subject of his past, but couldn't stop
herself.

He shrugged. "I have no idea. Never knew
them."

How sad, she thought. Perhaps his
grandparents raised him. Her own Grayson grandparents certainly
eased her life, especially since the death of her mother. "But you
must have lived on a farm with someone."

"Humph. Slaved is a more appropriate term for
the time I spent on a farm. For four years I mucked out barns and
chicken sheds, fed animals, harvested feed, did the work of two
men."

"Oh. That’s why you knew what to do. I see."
No wonder he never talked about his personal life. She’d intruded
when all she intended was conversation. No, she admitted, to be
honest she wanted more than conversation. She wanted to know
everything about this man who so fascinated yet repelled her.

"Do you?" He shook his head. "I doubt it.
Since you persist in asking, I bounced from foster home to foster
home, some in town and some on farms. When I was twelve I landed
with an oh-so-kind family who needed a farm hand. In fact, they
needed two farm hands, so I was allowed to fill both
positions."

"No wonder you hate farm work. So, when you
were sixteen, you what?"

"I left. I was tall even then. Although the
food was scarce and poorly prepared, the heavy farm work muscled me
up. I hitched, sometimes walked, and did odd jobs along the way
from Iowa to New Jersey. I could, and did, pass for eighteen when I
joined the crew of a ship."

He turned to challenge her, an eyebrow
raised. "Curiosity satisfied?"

She flushed, unable to break eye contact with
him. "I was just making conversation. I didn't mean to pry."

"Yes, you did." He shrugged as if it were no
longer important, and turned. "Now how about dishing us up some
dinner while I clean myself up?" With that, he left her pondering
these few tidbits of his past while he strode toward the
bathroom.

***

With dinner over and cleared away, Trent let
Blue out for one more run before bedtime. Nature called Holly also,
and she sought the bathroom, grateful the small heater kept the
room warm enough for her to remove her coat. While there, she
attended to minor grooming, picking off bits of hay and stray
feathers.

Less than half the size of her clothes closet
at home, the tiny bathroom included only a shower stall and a
free-standing sink across from the toilet. At present, the heater
made up for any other deficiencies in the room, at least from her
viewpoint. When she’d finished, she slung her coat around her and
left the only truly warm spot in the house.

Their absent hosts' tiny living room
contained only a few tables near two armchairs facing a television
set, a playpen, and other assorted children's paraphernalia. Weary
beyond caring for her safety, Holly wanted to sink onto one of the
chairs and rest. The floor furnace provided sparse heat to keep the
house habitable, if far less than comfortable.

Coat draped around her shoulders, she walked
into the bedroom. Although Holly had passed the door several times
on her way to the bathroom, she had not examined the room closely
until now.

Oh my
. One
very small bedroom, one double-sized bed and two baby cribs. Those
and two chests left only a narrow walking space in the
room.

She sat down and gave a test jiggle. Her hips
sank into the soft mattress and her body tilted toward the bed’s
sagging middle.

Holly looked up.

Trent stood in the doorway, hands braced on
each side of the doorframe. "So, which side of the bed do you
want?"

CHAPTER THREE

She
gasped.
"Surely you don't intend to sleep here? A gentleman would take one
of the chairs in the living area."

"Princess, no one ever accused me of being a
gentleman.” He straightened and moved into the crowded room. “Look,
Holly, I'm dead tired. I've had far more than enough trouble for
one day."

He draped his jacket across the foot of the
bed before he unbuttoned his shirt. "I'll take the side nearest the
windows since that’s bound to be colder."

Holly catapulted off the bed to repeat
her question. "You expect us to sleep
together
?"

He nodded. "It seems the only logical
solution. You know, shared body heat?"

"Sh-shared...?" She stared at him in horror,
her mouth open.

She might not have a wide range of sexual
experience, but she was no prissy prude. But this man emanated sex
and danger. The day moved right up to a ten on the disaster scale
with alarms ringing full tilt.

"Stop looking as if I said I intend to eat
you. I only bite by invitation." He flashed his teeth in a mocking
leer. "While you made certain each dish went back into precisely
the proper place in the cupboards, I checked the closets for extra
bedding. This is a very Spartan household."

It was then Holly noticed the irregular
ripples under the spread. She turned back the coverlet and revealed
only a few layers of thin blankets. The bedding seemed pitiful
compared to the severity of the room's chill.

Trent slipped off his boots and spread his
shirt across the bed. His eyes met hers. How dare this fiend have
such exquisite green eyes? She forced herself to break eye contact
and concentrated her gaze on the bedspread as he continued.

"The Martins must be part Eskimo. There
aren't enough blankets for us to split up, even using the crib
blankets. I piled everything I could find onto the bed for
warmth."

Though she tried to avert her eyes, she
stared as if she were mesmerized. He unfastened his jeans and
stepped out of them as casually as if he were alone. Standing in
only his underwear and socks, he carefully folded his jeans and
laid them across the bed. Had he no idea the effect the sight of
his body wreaked on her? Of course he did.

She tried again to turn away, but her body
refused to obey. Her traitorous eyes inventoried him. The jagged
scar on his chest worried her, bringing to mind the vivid image of
him aboard ship, cutlass in hand as he faced another pirate. Was
the rumor true then? Had he been a pirate or merely a seaman? She
easily pictured him braced on deck, wielding a cutlass to defend a
maiden.

Defend? Ha. More likely to capture her. All
he lacked was a patch over his eye and the black flag of skull and
crossed bones waving over his head.

His muscles rippled with each movement. Dark
hair spread across his chest and she followed the vee that furrowed
toward his waist and into his skin-tight briefs. This man didn’t
need a rolled up sock to fill out his underwear. Dry cotton lined
her mouth and she couldn’t swallow. She licked her scorched lips
and a ball of heat curled in her abdomen.

Once again her thoughts returned to the
fantasy his touch had evoked before dinner. In her mind she relived
the pleasure of his hands against her skin, the electric shock of
his touch as their gaze met.

He slipped between the sheets and patted the
bed beside him. "Now that you’ve memorized all my parts, don't
forget to turn off the overhead light before you join me."

The words jerked her back to the reality of
their situation. How could she let her imagination carry on so?
What must he think of her for staring at him? She’d show him.

"Hell will freeze over before I sleep with
you." Holly flipped off the light switch as she left. Let him
freeze alone. At least she’d be in the room with the lousy
furnace.

She grabbed a stuffed bear from the playpen
to use as a pillow. With her coat draped across her, she chose the
overstuffed chair nearest the furnace grate. The coat’s wet hem
sent an icy chill down her legs. She shifted until the soggy fabric
hung over the edge of the chair.

In the other chair, the cat lay curled into a
rounded mound. "Some help you are. Socks. You could at least offer
to climb on my lap and help keep me warm."

One feline eye opened, regarded her, and
closed again. Holly shifted her weight and curled to pull her feet
up under her coat, determined to sleep in the chair. She tucked the
bear under her head and closed her eyes.

From the kitchen she heard the soft snuffling
snore of the dog asleep on the ragged old blanket Trent had folded
into a makeshift dog bed. Holly almost begrudged the dog his
cushion.

The squeak of springs came from the bedroom
as Trent shifted his weight. Damn the man! She definitely begrudged
him the bed.

She awoke cramped and freezing. Every muscle
in her body ached. Fluff from the darned bear stuck to her mouth
and eye. She wiggled her numbed feet before she stood.

Okay, so far no one had died.

So far no one had starved.

So far no one had frozen . . . but Holly felt
well on the way to becoming a human ice cube. Surely, by now, even
hell had frozen over.

With a resigned sigh, she removed the
confiscated boots and tiptoed into the bedroom. She spread her coat
across the bed before she slipped from her outer clothes and
distributed them among his then she crawled between the sheets.

* * *

When he heard the rustle from the next room
as she approached, Trent glanced at the electric clock on the
nightstand. Two hours. She’d lasted longer camped in that chair
than he had expected.