Stormbound with a Tycoon (4 page)

“At fifteen years old you were planning romantic evenings?”

He shot her a sly sidelong glance. “Fifteen-year-old hormones are difficult to argue with.” He allowed a quiet moment of reflection as the memory of simpler times warmed his consciousness.

“I had wood, newspapers and matches, all the things I thought I needed to build this romantic fire. I had everything put together the way I thought it should be, with newspaper on the bottom, little pieces of wood on top of that, then bigger pieces on the top of the pile. It was time for her to arrive. I struck a match and lit the newspaper which immediately flared up and caught the small pieces of wood. When I was sure the fire was going I opened the front door and went out on the porch to watch for her. Before I knew what was happening, the room filled with smoke and it billowed out the door. A neighbor saw the smoke and called the fire department.”

He turned and looked at her. “And that's how I learned about dampers in a fireplace.” He emitted another gentle laugh mixed with a hint of embarrassment. “What about you? Do you have any
most embarrassing moment
from your past that you'd like to share?”

Only two truly embarrassing moments leaped to her mind. The first one was having several people show up for what she thought was her lunch date with Dylan
when she was sixteen years old. The other was catching her husband in bed with another woman. She had no intention of mentioning either incident. “I…uh…can't think of anything right now.”

“Oh, I see. I'm left here with my embarrassment exposed, and you're keeping yours a secret.” His teasing grin let her know he wasn't angry or upset.

He had shared a personal experience with her, something from his past. It was a warm few minutes that left her enveloped in a feeling of closeness, one totally different from anything she had been prepared for. It was as if she was seeing a totally different Dylan Russell than the one she assumed she knew. The reflective moment was broken when he rose from the chair.

“I guess the next order of business is to figure out exactly what's blocking the chimney.” He bent down on the hearth and attempted to look up into the darkness, then turned back toward her. “Do you have a flashlight somewhere around here?”

“Yes, in the kitchen. I'll get it for you.” She hurried to the kitchen. Her desire to escape the smooth presence that had been lulling her into a very receptive mood was as strong as the need to retrieve the flashlight. She quelled the uncertainty churning in her stomach. Nothing was as it should be—least of all Dylan Russell. It was more than Justin having let him use the cabin. More than her having inadvertently climbed into bed with him. She feared just how much more it might turn out to be.

Every time she tried to force him into a predetermined mold of who and what he was, he refused to fit. The harder she pushed and shoved, the more he seemed to resist. She found it very perplexing and very
frustrating. She had a knack for being able to tag people as to who and what they were, but he refused to cooperate. Every time he flashed that sexy smile she increased her efforts to put him in his place and he seemed to resist all that much harder.

She toyed with the idea that she wanted him neatly classified because she felt threatened by his devil-may-care freedom to do as he pleased whenever it pleased him. It angered her that without even seeming to try, he had managed to make a mockery of her ordered and sensible life. But that wasn't the worst of it.

His nearness sent little tremors of excitement racing through her body…tremors over which she had no control. And all this just from his presence. Other than when he wrapped his arm around her waist while he was asleep, there had been no physical contact between them. Unless you counted the brief moment when their fingers touched—a moment she could still feel as if it had happened only a second ago.

He was not a physical threat, but he surely was a very real emotional one. She reminded herself that she was no longer that impressionable fifteen-year-old schoolgirl who had the major crush on her older brother's friend. Nor was she the sixteen-year-old whose heart had been broken by the very same Dylan Russell. She swept the inappropriate thoughts from her mind and went in search of the flashlight and spare batteries.

Dylan shuffled through a couple of closets while Jessica looked for the flashlight. He found a broom, an old mop handle and some duct tape. By overlapping the ends of the handles and taping them together, he had ended up with a long pole.

“What's that supposed to be?” Jessica asked as she handed him the flashlight.

He leaned the pole against the wall and took the flashlight from her. “I'm making something long enough to reach up the chimney so I can dislodge whatever it is without having to go up on the roof and tackle it from that direction.”

“Go up on the roof?” Surely he wasn't serious about actually doing it. “It's still raining. The roof has a very steep slope. It's much too dangerous.”

“I know.” He cupped her chin in his hand and uttered the words slowly, as if talking to a child. “That's why I don't want to go up on the roof if it can be avoided.” He saw the irritation dart across her face and immediately flashed a grin to let her know he was teasing.

Then his gaze found hers. His fingers brushed across her cheek. It was a fleeting moment of intimacy that nearly took his breath away and left him totally confused. He tried to ignore the rush of heated desire by returning to the problem with the chimney.

He snapped on the flashlight, leaned on the hearth and stuck his head into the fireplace. He sighted along the beam of light as it penetrated the darkness. “There's something there, all right. It looks like it's pretty far up. I hope this makeshift pole can reach it.”

He withdrew from the fireplace and handed her the flashlight. “Here. Shine the light up there while I try to dislodge the obstruction.”

Jessica leaned into the fireplace and turned on the flashlight, shining the beam up into the darkness. Dylan stared at her for a moment, then broke out in a soft chuckle. “You might want to get your head out
of there unless you want whatever comes down the chimney to fall in your face.”

She scooted out of the way while muttering under her breath, “I knew that.”

He teased her obvious irritation at her own mistake. “Uh…what was that? I didn't hear what you said.”

She angrily snapped out a response to his teasing. “Are we going to try to clear out this chimney or not?”

“Oh, yes, ma'am. That's exactly what we're going to do.” Again, he could not contain his amusement.

He turned his attention to the business at hand. He kept as far away from the chimney opening as he could, yet still be in a position to see what he was doing. It was not an ideal situation, but he was willing to give it a try. He shoved the pole as far up into the chimney as he could, finally making contact with whatever had the opening blocked. He jabbed at it. Bits of dried twigs and leaves began to drift down, then suddenly everything gave way.

The accumulated debris broke loose and crashed down the flue into the interior of the fireplace. Jessica jumped to her feet, dropping the flashlight as she tried to keep the flying dust out of her eyes. Dylan choked back a cough as he escaped the cloud of soot and ashes that billowed across the hearth.

They dashed out to the front porch to escape the choking air inside the cabin. Jessica ruffled her fingers through her hair to dislodge some leaves, then brushed her hands across her forehead and cheeks to wipe away the dust. “What a mess.”

“I think we got the blockage cleared out.” Dylan picked the bits of twigs from his clothes. “Do you have
a vacuum cleaner? That powdery, fine, fireplace ash is going to be hard to get with a broom.”

“Yes, but there's no—”

“No electricity!” Dylan finished her sentence.

Each broke out into a spontaneous laugh at the totally ludicrous situation. Almost as quickly as it began the laughter faded when their gazes locked again for a moment…a very heated moment. It was almost an involuntary gesture on Dylan's part as he reached out and gently brushed some of the dirt from her cheek. He allowed his fingertips to linger, then cupped her face in his hands. At that moment he very much wanted to take her in his arms and kiss that delicious-looking mouth. He steeled himself against the temptation and quickly withdrew his hands. He had never before been in the position of wanting to kiss someone so much yet knowing that he didn't dare try.

A shiver tickled across Jessica's nape in response to his touch. It was as unsettling as Dylan himself. She backed away from him. He was as wrong for her as a man could be, yet his mere presence excited her in a way she had never before experienced. She tried to shake off the mesmerizing sensations that enveloped her. It was a bad situation, and it needed to be terminated as quickly as possible.

She took another step away from him as she rubbed her hand across her nape to still the tremor. “Well…” She shoved down the sudden nervousness that jittered through her body. She could still feel the heat generated by his touch. “There's a mess that needs to be cleaned.” She returned to the living room, leaving Dylan standing on the porch.

He watched her retreating form. His gaze traced the line of her hip and the curve of her bottom beneath
the well-worn denim. The tightness spread across his chest, and the heat settled low inside him. Even his fingertips tingled from the brief contact with her cheek. Jessica McGuire was as tantalizingly desirable as any woman he had ever met, yet so unlike any woman he had ever been with. He shook his head as he followed her inside. He needed to add structure and purpose to his life, not complicate it by making a pass at this woman…who also happened to be his best friend's sister.

Jessica purposely kept her distance from Dylan while they cleaned up the mess as best they could. By the time they finished, it was nearly noon. The entire morning had been devoted to one disaster after another. A new layer of anxiety built up on the already established base. Her neat and tidy existence had been turned into a shambles by Dylan Russell, and she did not like it. And worse yet, she didn't know what to do about it. She could still feel his fingertips on her cheek and the heat of his touch.

Dylan was aware of her every movement and gesture, her body language telling him she was out of patience with the series of minidisasters. He made the decision to retreat and give her a little bit of time to calm down. He adopted the facade of the world-weary traveler who had seen it all and done it all. He glanced around the room, satisfied that it was as orderly as possible under the circumstances.

“Things here seem to be under control. I think this would be a good time for me to grab a quick shower.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

Many years ago an awkward fifteen-year-old Jessica had followed him around for an entire weekend like a lovesick puppy, and he had not been able to get rid of
her. He remembered how funny Justin thought it had been. Then a year later he saw how much the sixteen-year-old Jessica had blossomed. A four-year age difference wasn't much, but the difference between a sixteen-year-old high school girl and a twenty-year-old college man was considerable. He had not had any interest in asking for trouble by making a pass at an underage girl and especially not his best friend's sister.

His mind drifted back to early that morning as he lay in bed watching her pick up her clothes—the way her T-shirt clung to her curves, her long bare legs, the sexy abandon of her mussed hair. The fifteen-year-old Jessica had been a nuisance. Funny how drastically things had changed. He allowed a brief thought about how he might be able to get her to follow him around like that again.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, ran his hand across his whisker stubble, then heaved a sigh of resignation. Absolutely nothing had gone in his favor since he had gotten out of bed that morning. Actually, nothing had gone in his favor for the past three months. He clicked on his electric razor, hoping the battery had enough charge left for him to shave.

Jessica heard the shower go on. Finally, a chance for some peace and quiet without the distraction of Dylan Russell to set her heart pounding and her pulse racing. She poured herself another cup of coffee, turned on the battery-operated radio, then curled up in the corner of the couch. She reflected on the morning's activities. All she had wanted was a couple of days of quiet and solitude. That was not asking too much, was it? Instead everything seemed to be conspiring against her. She had found herself enmeshed in one calamity after another. First it was the rain as she drove to the
cabin, then finding the power out when she had arrived and finally total bedlam masquerading in the person of Dylan Russell.

It was an impossible situation. He would have to leave as soon as he finished in the bathroom. It was bad enough to wake up in the same bed with him by accident, but to allow him to continue to stay in her cabin was out of the question. Determination took a strong hold. Her mind was made up. She would be tactful, but firm. Maybe Justin had promised him the use of the cabin, but even Dylan should be able to recognize what an impossible situation they had.

Then that same determined mind drifted back to the moment when she woke that morning to find his arm curled around her waist and his body snuggled against hers. She could still feel the sensual warmth that radiated from his bare skin in those moments of half sleep and half wakefulness. She vividly recalled each and every plane, angle and line of his well-defined torso when he had propped himself up on his elbow and flashed that deliciously wicked grin. Rogue, scoundrel, playboy, charmer—whatever word you wanted to use, it personified Dylan Russell to a T. No way was he the type of man she could ever be seriously interested in, the kind who would be happy to settle down with a home and family—no way at all.

She shook off the thoughts and the mental image, then took another swallow of her coffee as if trying to drown out her errant musings. She reaffirmed her resolve. Her mind was made up. He definitely had to go, and the sooner the better. Her decision was final. There was no way she would change her mind—no way at all.