LESLIE KNEW SHE should have gotten up and made it clear that she was unharmed. She wanted to get up, but she was curious to see what Joe would do. Was his alarm due to the fact that someone was hurt? Or due to the fact that he thought she was hurt? Playfully, she kept her eyes closed and didn’t twitch a muscle.
First she heard and then she felt the rhythm of Joe’s steps as they raced toward her. He called her name twice before he reached her side.
“Dammit to hell! I knew it. I should never have left you here alone. Leslie? Leslie, can you hear me?” he asked, his voice unsteady and full of fear. “Les?”
She could feel his hands on her shoulders as they gently moved up to examine her neck and the back of her head. They came down again, over her arms and ribs, then quickly to her legs.
“Where are you hurt? Oh, wake up and tell me where you hurt,” he pleaded, growing more distressed by the second.
Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, after all, Leslie pondered, while she relished the feel of his hand on her cheek as he gently pushed her hair away from her face. She got the distinct impression that if she suddenly came to life right now, Joe would surely kill her for deceiving him. She opened her right eye just a smidgen to get a look at the expression on his face. Even though her vision was hazy, she could tell he was extremely upset.
“Hmm, I don’t see any bleeding,” he said, passing his hands over her shoulders again. “I hope you’re not bleeding internally.” He sounded horrified by the very idea.
His hands moved down along her ribs and more intimately across her pelvis to the juncture of her legs. Slowly, they traveled upward palpating her abdomen and still higher until they curved around her breasts. Her unbuttoned outer shirt had fallen away, leaving only the thin T-shirt as a barrier between her and Joe’s searching hands. Her heart beat painfully in her throat when his fingers lingered to fondle and caress. He teased the hardening peaks with his thumbs, and air caught in her lungs. She began to feel truly faint as he continued to arouse every nerve ending in her body until it stood up and screamed with need.
“Ah …” she groaned loudly as she struggled to sit up and end the game. Fortunately, her right shoulder really did hurt, or she’d have come up too quickly and blown the whole act. She’d have to be more careful, she reminded herself. “Where am I?”
“Where you belong, sweetheart. Flat on your back,” Joe said in a saccharine voice, his anxiety subdued too rapidly, much to Leslie’s dismay. Brave enough to open only one eye, she saw that he had leaned back on his legs and was watching her, undeceived. So much for the great new day, she thought fatalistically.
With both eyes open, she hung her head in shame, unable to look him in the eye, until she remembered what he’d done. “You were pawing me! You knew all along I wasn’t hurt, and you took advantage of me,” she blurted out, incensed.
Joe’s mouth dropped open at her brazen outburst. “You’ve got a nerve,” he shouted right back. “After what you did to me? Scaring me like that? You’re lucky that’s all I did. I ought to roll you over and spank you.”
Leslie’s eyes narrowed as her rage grew out of control. “You try it, and I’ll kill you,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the shotgun that still lay beneath her right hand. It barely was an inch off the ground when Joe’s eyes lowered to the gun wrapped tightly in her fist. His gaze returned to meet and hold hers with a penetrating stare. Joe didn’t move a muscle. He sat there watching her calmly as if he knew she wouldn’t take aim and couldn’t pull the trigger.
He was right. Leslie’s mind took a step forward, and she saw herself holding a deadly weapon, aimed straight at another human being. The sight was nauseating, her body convulsed at the horror of it. She laid the rifle back down on the ground. “I’m sorry,” she said in a soft voice, this time she was truly ashamed.
“So am I.” Joe’s deep, harsh voice was so understanding and sincere that she couldn’t help looking up at him. He smiled at her. “You scared me. I wanted to teach you a lesson.”
“It was a bad joke on my part. I’ve learned my lesson.” She laughed softly at herself, and said, “Actually, I should have known better. I never was very good at pretending. Even when I was a little girl.”
Joe was smiling at her. His expression took on a wistfulness as his gaze roamed over her face. “I’ll bet you were a cute little girl.”
Under his intense scrutiny and unaccustomed to his softhearted words, Leslie felt selfconscious and warm all over. Their gazes locked. In that instant, there was a vague connection made between them. He stated a fact, and she accepted it and agreed with it. But neither of them would acknowledge it as they looked away in denial.
Joe cleared his throat loudly, then addressed her point blank. “What the hell were you shooting at anyway? I told you to use the handgun if you needed to. You idiot. You’re lucky you didn’t break your arm with that shotgun.”
She wanted to tell him about a pack of wolves in an effort to maintain his caring attitude, but it wasn’t exactly her style. Try as she might to follow her mother’s advice, lying just never seemed to work for her. “I wasn’t shooting at anything. I thought I should at least try to shoot a gun in case of an emergency. I thought this gun would be louder.”
“Bigger is better, huh?”
“Well, that’s what I was hoping.”
“Can you stand up? Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes.”
“All right then, come here.”
Leslie got to her feet as she watched Joe pick up the shotgun and check to see if the second round was still in place. He motioned for her to come to him, and when she was within touching distance, he took her arm and pulled her even closer.
“Now,” he said, drawing her into his arms so that she was facing away from him. “I’ll show you the correct way to do it, if you really want to learn how.” He put the gun to her shoulder, making a point of telling her that it didn’t go in her armpit. He used a lot of technical talk to tell her, in essence, that if she planned to shoot a gun bigger than the size of her foot, not to aim it directly into the ground, to angle it more, or the backlash would knock her down every time.
Leslie didn’t particularly want and wasn’t at all interested in this lesson on how to handle a shotgun. She had no intention of ever touching a gun again as long as she lived. If an emergency arose, she’d think of something else to do. But, she wasn’t about to tell Joe. She liked the feel of his arms around her as he held her close, the way they brushed against her when he moved. She liked watching his big, rough hands as they took hers and showed her where to put them on the rifle. And there was no denying the warm, tingling sensation she felt when his legs pressed against the back of hers and his chest adjusted itself to conform to her back.
She almost giggled with delight when he put his cheek to hers and tried to show her how the sight worked. He could have repeated that specific part of the lesson several times, and she wouldn’t have minded.
“Now then, all you have to do is keep that branch lined up with the sight on the end of the barrel, and pull the trigger. And don’t close your eyes, or you’ll lose your aim. Ready?” Leslie nodded. “Keep your legs spread apart, or you’ll be back on your fanny again.”
There was a laughing quality in his voice that she took instant exception to and very naturally turned her head to glare at him. Her nose brushed his cheek, and their eyes met and held for a long tense moment of appraisal.
“Would you like to make a wager on your hitting that branch?” he asked, leaving no doubt as to what the stakes would be.
“I don’t think so.”
“Afraid you’ll lose again?”
“Yes.”
“It’s bound to happen eventually,” he said, almost like a warning in her ear. “Wouldn’t you just as soon get it over with than have to live with the anticipation that much longer?”
“What anticipation?” she asked, looking away, making an elaborate gesture of squaring her shoulders and bracing her legs as she took careful aim at the branch.
“The anticipation of knowing that eventually you and I are going to make love. And don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
“I haven’t thought about it.” Well, not in so many words, she added mentally. Her hands grew moist, and her heart was racing as he continued to talk softly, intimately in her ear.
“I know you have. Look, Leslie. See how well our bodies fit together? I noticed it the other night when you spent the whole night in my arms. We’ll do that again soon. Only this time you won’t be sleeping.” Leslie’s muscles grew taut, and her nerves became excited. She flexed and extended her trigger finger, trying to keep her concentration focused on the tree limb. “It’ll be glorious, Leslie. I’m already looking forward to touching your soft, smooth skin again. To kissing you again. To finding softer places to touch and secret places to kiss, that—”
The shotgun went off with a resounding clap that seemed to go on forever. When Leslie opened her eyes, she was amazed to find the branch gone. Triumphantly she turned on Joe. “There. Happy now?”
“Are you? You’re the one who wouldn’t bet.” His green eyes were sparkling proudly. He’d been goading her, she realized instantly. Saying all those horrible things so she’d try harder to make the shot. She began to seethe.
“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t get mad now. If you’re a very good girl, it may just happen yet,” he said, tapping her nose lightly with his index finger. “And next time you decide to play dead, don’t try to peek. It makes your eyelashes flutter.”
Leslie gasped. He released his instructor’s hold on her and took the rifle from her hands. “Since you’re feeling so spunky today, you can help me carry all that food up to the cabin. I dumped it about a hundred yards back when I heard your shot. If the eggs are broken, it’s all your fault.”
Wasn’t it always her fault, Leslie asked herself. She knew better than to give into her impulses. She wasn’t a spontaneous person. Her life was much less stressful when she kept it simple and logical. As for Joe Bonner and his trickery, well, she’d have to find another way to deal with him.
Trying to make amends for her misdeed, Leslie volunteered to cook the scrambled eggs for their brunch. When Joe asked if she could cook eggs better than she made coffee, which she’d forgotten and left to boil over, she assured him she could. However, there was no omelette pan or cheese grater, no electric toaster or juice maker. Under such primitive conditions she was forced to tax her ingenuity.
“This is good,” Joe said, bobbing his head in approval over what Leslie had dubbed “eggs hors concours.” “I usually don’t eat this fancy stuff. It’s a nice change. What are these green things?”
“Don’t you know?” she asked, growing worried that she had committed yet another error. She had returned to the near empty garden, hoping for inspiration when her meal began to look as plain as eggs. A clump of chives and some of the vegetables Joe had bought were a help. She’d tasted one of the chives to be sure of what they were, but if Joe didn’t recognize his own produce …
“Where’d it come from?”
“Your garden.”
“My garden?” He was starting to look seriously concerned.
“Didn’t you say that was a garden at the side of the house?”
“Well, yes, but there isn’t anything planted in it yet. I haven’t had the time.”
The longer he looked at her as if she might have poisoned him, the more resentful she became. She wasn’t totally stupid. She’d gone to college. She held down a good job. She could cook up a storm in a civilized kitchen. And she knew a chive when she saw one. “Well, you got yourself a great little crop of chives out there now, Mr. Bonner. Believe you me,” she told him as she slapped her hand down on the table and looked him straight in the eye, daring him to argue with her.
Joe laughed. “Good. Terrific,” he said dryly, chuckling quietly and giving her a wary eye. “They taste great in eggs.”
Maybe she had overreacted a little, she thought, as Joe went silently back to eating his eggs. But she was tired of feeling like a total incompetent around this man. Everyone who knew her thought she was always in control, always organized, and always up on everything. She wanted Joe to think so too.
After their meal, Joe went straight to work. Leslie did the dishes and quickly ran out of things to do. She’d already been out of doors once that day, and she’d admired the view while she was there. So unless there was a good reason to go out again, she’d just as soon stay inside where she belonged. Of course, Joe was a neat, clean person, so there wasn’t much to do in the cabin either. She didn’t own anything in the vicinity but a purse and a cut up dress. She went to her purse in search of entertainment.
While Joe plunked away at his little computer, Leslie cleaned out her wallet and put her credit cards in alphabetical order. She checked the shade of her lipstick and decided to save it for when the rescue party came. She counted the keys on her key ring and took the time to wonder why Joe had bothered to take them out of the ignition, since neither she nor her car were going anywhere. At last she found a distraction—a silver nail file tucked away at the bottom of her bag.
With great verve she set about her manicure. On the third nail, she looked up to find Joe staring at her. A scowl of displeasure looking very at home on his face.
“What?” she asked innocently.
“Must you do that?”
“What? My nails?”
“It’s very distracting.”
That was exactly why she was doing them, but she got his point just the same. “Sorry.”
Joe went back to work, and Leslie tiptoed over to the kitchen sink for a glass of water. There was an old-fashioned hand pump that needed to be primed a little before water came out of it, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the noise when she’d been doing the dishes. Joe’s plunking slowed down but didn’t stop while she got her drink.
She recalled seeing some saltine crackers in one of the cupboards and quietly sought them out. She opened the crackling cellophane wrapper and removed several, because the eggs hadn’t satisfied her appetite. Not a big eater normally, and never a snacker, Leslie chalked this lapse in her behavior up to the mountain air. Everyone knew it made you hungrier than usual.
“Is that going to take long?” Joe’s exasperation was a surprise to Leslie. Now what had she done?
“What?”
“All the wrapper rustling and cracker crunching,” he said, annoyed.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry,” she said, walking back to the couch, flopping herself down despondently. “I’ll just sit right here, and I won’t make a sound. I promise.”
“Look. I’m sorry. But I have to get this done. I’m not used to having someone around while I work. I told you I wasn’t easy to live with.”
“So, work. I’ll be very quiet. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Joe’s expression was dubious, but he seemed willing to give it another try. She sat like a statue of The Thinker for awhile, then leaned back into the couch and got comfortable. She tried to remember some of her favorite music and played it back in her head. But when her moccasin-shod feet began to tap lightly on the floor, she had to stop. She closed her eyes, thinking she’d try to find her alpha level through meditation. It was something she’d always thought interesting but never had the time to try. After several minutes of trying to relax, she found herself listening to Joe’s plunking. It was terribly disturbing. She sighed and gave up on her alpha waves. But she didn’t reopen her eyes.
Joe. Joe Bonner. She liked his name. It was a very plain name for an extraordinary man. Her mind crawled back to the morning hours when he’d so rudely touched her when he discovered she wasn’t really hurt. For all his anger, his hands had been remarkably gentle. What would his touch be like if he weren’t angry? What if he were feeling amorous and favorably inclined toward her? Her body sighed from head to toe at the thought. What if he were even more gentle? What if his strokes were intended to arouse her, to drive her wild with desire? What if he’d started to undress her, looking for her wound? What if he’d touched her bare skin, caressed her naked breasts until they were on fire with insatiable yearning? What if … ?
“For crying out loud, Leslie! What the hell are you doing over there? Having an orgasm?”
Her eyes popped open. “Who me?”
Joe was turning to face her as she swung her feet to the floor and sat up. “Sigh, sigh, groan. You could do sound tracks for porno movies. What are you doing?”
“Nothing. I was trying to be quiet. But excuse me for breathing, Mr. Bonner. I’ll try to do better in the future,” she said defensively, so he wouldn’t see the guilt she was feeling.
“This isn’t going to work,” he said, “But, I have an idea.”
“What?” she muttered under her breath, still feeling foolish about her daydreams, still feeling the effect they had on her body.
Joe walked to the door and looked back at her when she didn’t follow. “Out here.”
“Oh, great,” she mumbled, rolling off the couch and getting to her feet to shuffle along behind him. Out the door and around the side of the cabin she followed him, until he stopped at his would-be garden.
“You seem to know your chives. How would you like to plant some more conventional veggies like carrots and potatoes and lettuce? If I can get back to my truck before too long, you can plant tomatoes too. I bought some plants, but they may die before I get back to them.”
Hands on her hips, Leslie looked first at the plot of dirt, then at Joe. “Are you joking?”
“No. It’ll give you something to do. Something to be proud of. And I won’t have to be yelling at you constantly to be quiet.” He grinned. “It’ll be good for our morale.”
“If I say no, are you going to force me to do this?”
A strange look crossed Joe’s face, and again he grinned—this time it wasn’t with humor. He took several steps toward her. He was several inches taller than she, and she had to force her head back so she could keep eye contact with him. His green gaze bore into her, searching deeply for secret treasures he was greedy to possess. She took a step backward and then another. Joe continued to advance on her until her back was against the rough wood of the cabin. When his arms moved up on either side of her to block her escape, she didn’t flinch or break contact with the keen stare that was more her captor than his physical form was.
For long minutes he stood there, close but not touching her, wondering but not asking. “Funny, that you should mention force. I can’t recall one time when I’ve actually forced you to do something you didn’t want to do,” he finally said in a low, menacing voice. “Why would you bring up something like that unless you’d been thinking about it? Have you been thinking of my forcing you to do something you don’t want to do, Les? Is that why you brought it up? Do you want me to force you to do something you don’t want to do? Does that excite you?” he asked, aligning his zipper to hers and leaning into it firmly.
There had to be anger in her somewhere, she thought, frantically searching for it. He had no right to treat her like this. Her pulse was racing so fast and her breathing was so shallow, she couldn’t sort out her emotions. Even her sensory system was on the blink. Instead of repulsion, she felt like one raw, totally exposed nerve ending. She was frightened and excited. She wanted to run away and melt into his arms at the same time. The turmoil seized her vocal cords, and she didn’t deny him.
He lowered his head. His lips touched the soft, sensitive skin just below her right ear and moved slowly across her throat as he rubbed his body against hers, pressing against her breasts until he could reach her other ear, her temple, her forehead, the corner of her mouth. His mouth closed over hers, his tongue stroking, demanding entrance.
He pulled back. “Is this part of the game? Am I supposed to force my way in? Is that what makes you hot?” he asked, his voice harsh with his own need, which already was evident as it pressed urgently into her belly.
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.