Authors: Sandra Brown
Tags: #Contemporary, #Suspense, #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Vietnam War; 1961-1975, #Northwest Territories, #Survival After Airplane Accidents; Shipwrecks; Etc, #Romantic Suspense Fiction, #Wilderness Survival, #Businesswomen
"I know, my dear. But if one's life must be saved, better it be by someone who looks like your Cooper Landry. That mustache!" She grinned wickedly and licked her chops.
"Is what they say of mustaches true? Remember the joke?"
Rusty did remember the joke. Her cheeks went pink white her lips went pale. What they said about mustaches
was
true.
"Are his shoulders really this broad?" The friend held her hands a yard apart.
"He's rather brawny, yes," Rusty admitted helplessly. "But he—"
"Are his hips really this narrow?" The hands closed to less than a foot apart. The ladies giggled.
Rus
ty
wanted to scream. "He knew things to do that
I
would never have thought about. He built a travois, using my fur coa
t
, and dragged me away from the crash site—for miles.
I
didn't even realize how far until
I
saw die distance from the helicopter."
"There's something deliriously dangerous about him." One friend gave a delicate shiver. She hadn't heard a single word
Ru
st
y
had said. "Something threatening in his eyes. I've always found that primitive streak wildly sexy."
The
one sitting in the chair closed her eyes in a near swoon, "Stop. You're making me hot."
"This morning
’
s paper said he killed two men in a fight over you."
Rusty
nearl
y
got out of her bed. "That's not what the pape
r
said at al
l
!"
"
I
put two and
t
w
o
t
ogether."
"It was self-defense!"
"Honey, calm down." She patted Rusty's hand. "If you say it was self-defense, then it was self-defense." She winked down at Rusty. "Listen, my hubby knows Bill Friedkin. He thinks you
r
story would make a terrific movie. He and Friedkin are havin
g
lunch next week and—"
"A movie!" Rusty was aghast over the thought. "Oh, no. Please tell him not to say anything. I don't want anything to come of this. I just want to forget about it and get on with my life."
"We didn't mean to upset you,
Rusty
." The one who had been sitting in the chair rose to stand beside
t
he bed. She laid a comforting hand on Rusty's shoulder. "It's just that we're your two best friends. If there
was
something dreadful that you wanted to discuss, some—you know—
personal
aspect of the disaster that you couldn't tell your father, we wanted to make ourselves available."
"Like what?" Rusty shrugged off her friend's hand and glared up at them. They exchanged another telling glance.
"Well, you
were
alone with that man for almost two weeks."
"And?"
Rusty
asked
t
etchily.
"And," she said, drawing a deep breath, "the paper said it was a one-room cabin."
"So?"
"Come on, Rusty." The friend's patience gave our. "The situation lends itsel
f
to all kinds of speculation. You're a very attractive young woman, and he's positively yummy and certainly virile. You're both single. You were hurt. He nursed you. You were almost totally dependent on him. You thought you might be stranded up there
f
or
t
he dura
t
ion of the winter."
The other took up the slack and said excitedly, "Living together like tha
t
, in such close proximity, in the wilderness— well, it's positively the most romantic thing I ever heard of. You know what we're getting at."
"Yes, I know what you're getting at." Rusty's voice was cold, hut her brown eyes were smoldering. "You want to know if I slept wi
t
h Cooper."
Just then the door swung open and the topic of their discussion came striding in. Rusty's heart nearly jumped out of her chest. Her friends spun around, reacting to the radiant smile that broke across her face. He barely took notice of them. His gray eyes found and locked upon Rusty. The sizzling look they exchanged should have answered any questions regarding
th
eir level of intimacy.
Rusty finally composed herself enough to speak. "Uh, Cooper, these are two of my closest friends." She introduced them by name. He gave each of the women a disinterested, terse nod to acknowledge the introductions.
"Oh, Mr. Landry, I'm
so
honored to meet you," one of them gushed,
r
ound-eyed and breathless. "The
Times
said that you are an escaped POW
.
That just blows my mind. I mean, all that you've been through already. Then to survive a plane crash."
"Rust
y
claims that you saved her life."
"My husband and I would like to give the two of you an intimate little dinner parry when
Rusty
gets up and around. Please say you'll let us."
"When did you decide that?" the other asked with pique. "
I
wanted to give them a dinner par
t
y."
"
I
spoke first."
The sill
y
chatter was irritatin
g and embarrassing. Their squab
bling made them sound like the two stepsisters in
Cinderella.
"I'm sure Cooper can't stay long," Rusty interrupted, no
t
icin
g
that he was growing increasingly impatient. As was she. Now that he was here, she wanted to get rid of her so-called friends so she could be alone with him.
"We've stayed long enough," one of them said as she ga
t
hered up her handbag and coat. She bent over
Rusty
and kissed the air just above her cheek, whispering, "You sly thing, you. You won't get away with this.
I
want to know
everything."
The other one leaned down and said, "I'm sure he was well worth the plane crash. He's divine. So caw. So... Well, I'm sure I don't have to tell
you."
They stopped on their way to the door to say goodbye to Cooper. One even tapped his chest with a flirtatious hand as she reminded him about the dinner party she was planning in his honor. Th
ey
glided out, smiling smugly at Rusty over their shoulders before the door closed on them.
Cooper watched them go, then approached the bed. "I'm not going to any damned dinner party."
"I didn't expect you to. Once the novelty has worn off, I'll advise her to drop that idea."
Looking at him proved to be hazardous. She was dismayed to feel tears stinging her eyes. Self-consciously she brushed them off her cheeks.
"Some
th
ing wrong?"
"No, I'm..." She hesitated to tell him, but decided to take the plunge. The time for secrets be
t
ween them was long past. Bravely she lifted her eyes back to his. "I'm just very glad to see you."
He didn't touch her, although he might just as well have. His gaze was as possessive as a caress. I
t
passed down her form lying beneath the thin blanket,
t
hen moved back up again. It lingered on her breasts, which were seductively outlined by the clinging silk nightgown.
She nervously raised her hand and fiddled with the lace
neckline. "The, uh, the gown was waiting here for me when I checked in."
"
It
’
s nice.
"
"Anything is better than long Johns." "You look all right in long Johns."
Her smile wavered. He was here. She could se
e
him, smell his soapy clean smell, hear his voice. He was wearing new clothes— slacks and a casual shirt and jacket. But they weren't responsible for his distant attitude. She didn't want to acknowledge it, but it was undeniably the
re
—as obvious to her as an unbreachable wall.
"Thank you for coming to see me," she said for lack of anything better.
"I
asked my father to locate you and
t
ell you where
1
was."
"Your father didn'
t
tell me anything.
I
found you on my own."
She took he-art. He'd been looking tor her. Maybe all night. Maybe while she'd lain sleeping a drug-induced sleep, he'd been combing
t
h
e
city streets in a fran
t
ic search.
But then he shot down her soaring hopes by adding, "It was in the morning paper that you were here.
I
understand that a plastic surgeon is going to correct the stitches
I
made."
"I defended your sti
t
ching."
He shrugged indifferen
tl
y. "It worked, that's all I care about."
"That's all I care abou
t
,
t
oo."
"Sure."
"It is!" She sat up straighter, angry over his righteous condescension. "It wasn't my idea to come straight here from the airport. It was my father's. I would rather have gone home, checked my mail, watered my plants, slept in my own bed."
"You're a big girl. Why didn'
t
you?"
"I just told you. Father had made these arrangements.
I
couldn't demand that he change them."
"How come?"
"Don't be obtuse. And why shouldn't
I
want this scar removed?" she cried angrily.
He glanced away, gnawing on the corner of his mustache. "You should. O
f
course you should."
Slumping with misery, Rusty settled back on her pillows and blotted her eyes with the corner of the sheet. "What's wrong with us? Why are we behaving like this?"
His head came back around. He wore a sad expression, as chough her
naiveté
was to be pitied. "You shouldn't have to go through the rest of your life with that scar on your leg.
I
didn't mean to suggest that you should."
"I'm not talking about the scar, Cooper. I'm talking about everything. Why did you disappear at the airport last night?"
"I was there, in plain sight."
"But you weren't with me
. I
called out. Didn't you hear me?" He didn't answer directly. "You didn't seem to be lacking attention."
"I wanted
your
attention, I had it until we stepped off
t
he airplane."
"We could hardly do in that crowd what we were doing on the airplane." His eyes raked down her insultingly. "Besides, you were otherwise occupied." His mouth was set in a cynical smirk again. It looked unfamiliar now because Rusty hadn't seen that expression since they'd made love.
She was bewildered. Where and when had things between them
we
nt wrong? "What did you expect to happen when we
arrived in L.A.? We were and are news, Cooper. It wasn't my fau
lt
that the repor
t
ers were t
h
ere. And my father. He was worried sick about me. He helped fund our rescue. Did you think he'd treat my return casually?"
"No." He raked his fingers through his hair. "But did it have to be such a goddamn sideshow? Why the big production? That coat, for instance."
"That was a very thoughtful thing for him to do."
It embarrassed her even now
t
o recall her father's flamboyant gesture, but she sprang to defend him. The coat had been an expression of his love and joy at having her safely returned to him. Tha
t
it had been a tasteless display of affluence wasn't the point, It was aggravating that Cooper couldn't see
t
hat and simply overlook her father's idiosyncrasies.
Cooper was moving around the room restlessly, as though he found it confining. His motions were abrupt and self-conscious, like those of a man ill at ease because his cloches didn't fit him well. "Look, I've got to go."
"
G
o? Now? Why? Where are you going?"