by Lisa Jackson
“Don’t you think two Powells bowing down and paying homage to H.G. III is enough?”
“It’s a good job.”
“I prefer the hours at the Bait and Fish.”
She slid a glance in his direction and noticed the way his hands gripped the steering wheel—as if he were going to rip it from its column.
“You don’t like the Monroes much, do you?”
“I try not to think about them.”
She lifted a brow and he caught the movement.
“Okay. It’s like this. I just don’t appreciate the way Monroe does business. He lives in a mansion in some ritzy neighborhood in San Francisco, sent his son to private schools, flies into Gold Creek in a company helicopter once, maybe twice a week, does some rah-rahing and claps a few men on the back, then speeds back to his country club for eighteen holes of golf before he plants himself in the clubhouse. Like some damned visiting royalty.”
“He’s rich.”
“So that gives him the right to use the sweat of people’s backs to pay for his yacht harbored in the marina?”
“That’s the way it works.”
“At least Fitzpatrick has the guts to stick around Gold Creek,” Ben said as he shifted down and turned onto an abandoned logging road that curved away from the lake and switchbacked through the forested hills.
“I thought we were going swimming at the lake.”
“We are.”
“Unless my sense of direction is way off, we should be driving toward the setting sun instead of away from it.”
He laughed then and the anger that had been radiating from him since they passed the sawmill faded. He touched her lightly on the back of her hand with strong, callused fingers. “Trust me.”
Her heart flipped over and she knew she’d trust him with her very life.
They drove slowly, past fir and maple trees that allowed only a little of the fading sunlight through a thick canopy of branches overhead. Dry weeds brushed the belly of the truck as it labored up the steep grade. The radio began to fade and Ben snapped it off as the forest gave way to bare hills that had been stripped of old-growth timber. The scarred land looked as if it had been shaved by a godlike barber who took huge cuts at the remaining stands of old growth. Where the land had been logged, nature was taking over. A fine layer of grass and brush, dotted with a few scrub trees, began to reclaim the rocks and soil between the rotting stumps. Farther on there was evidence of reforestation, small fir and pine trees planted by man and machines to replenish the forest and provide the next crop of timber for another generation of loggers and sawmill men.
“The lifeblood of Gold Creek,” Ben observed wryly.
It was the truth, whether he meant to be sarcastic or not. For generations, Gold Creek had depended upon its rich stands of timber. Though the town had been optimistically named during the gold rush when a few miners had discovered glittering bits of the precious metal in the streambed of the brook that flowed into Whitefire Lake, timber was the real gold in the area. The fortunes of men like the Monroes and the Fitzpatricks had been founded and grown on the wealth of the forest.
Ben drove until the road gave out and he parked in a rutted, overgrown lot that had once been used as a base for the machinery that winched the trees up the hillside and a parking lot for logging trucks that had hauled the precious timber back to Monroe’s mill.
He grabbed a backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “Come on,” he said and she climbed out of his pickup. They left the truck and followed a path that was flanked by berry vines and brush. Eventually the forest resumed and Carlie struggled against the sharp incline. She was breathing hard as they passed through shaded stands of trees that had never been touched by a chain saw. Birds flitted through the trees, while squirrels scolded from hidden branches. The earth smelled cool, and far in the distance she heard the sound of water tumbling over rocks.
“Where’s the river?” she asked.
“No river. Gold Creek.”
“Clear up here?”
“Has to start somewhere.” They continued to climb and Carlie’s legs began to ache. “You know, I’m not really dressed for mountain climbing,” she said as the back of her heels began to rub in her tennis shoes.
“It’s just a little farther.” He grabbed her hand and helped her through the woods. She tried not to concentrate on the feel of his fingers twining with hers.
“What is?”
“A place I heard about at the store.”
“You’re not taking me fishing, are you?” she teased, but he didn’t answer, and the warmth of his hand over hers was as secure as a promise. They hiked for another twenty minutes before the forest began to thin. The trees eventually gave way to an alpine meadow, complete with a profusion of wildflowers blooming between thin blades of sun-bleached grass. Butterflies fluttered in the dying sunlight and bees droned lazily.
Still holding her hand, Ben led her through the knee-high grass to the head of a spring where clear water spilled into a small ravine and washed along the rocks as it tumbled downhill.
“Gold Creek,” he said.
“I thought the creek started at Whitefire Lake.”
“Technically it does,” he agreed, “and if you look on a map there’s probably another name for this particular brook, but since all this water rushes down to the lake and runs out to feed Gold Creek, I’d say this is where it all starts.” Leaning down, he ran his fingers through the water.
“Why’d you bring me up here?”
His hand stopped beneath the clear, shimmering surface. Straightening, he let the water drip from his hands and touched the line of her jaw. His fingers were cool and wet, his eyes dark with the coming dusk. “I wanted to be alone with you,” he admitted with the hint of a smile. “No Brenda. No Kevin. No parents. Just you and me.”
“Why?” She hardly dared breathe. Her chest was so tight, she thought it might burst.
“I thought we got started on the wrong foot the other night.”
She swallowed against a knot in her throat. “I was starting to believe that we didn’t really get started.”
“Silly girl,” he whispered. He shifted and the fingers that had traced her jaw moved around her neck, pulling her gently to him as his lips found hers in a kiss that was filled with wonder and youth and the promise of tomorrow.
Carlie’s knees felt weak and she didn’t protest when the weight of his body pushed them both to the soft bed of dry grass near the water.
She wound her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to the gentle pressure of his tongue. A curling warmth started somewhere deep in her abdomen and spread outward, racing through her bloodstream, causing her skin to tingle. He flicked the tip of his tongue against the ridges along the roof of her mouth, touching her teeth and delving farther.
Was this wrong? she wondered, but didn’t care. Nothing that felt this right should be forbidden.
Groaning, he flung one leg between hers and kissed her harder, pressing hot lips against hers anxiously.
“Carlie,” he whispered when he lifted his head and stared down into her eyes. “Is this what you want?”
“I just want to be with you,” she said, not thinking about the words, just anxious to assure him that she cared. She touched his cheek with her fingers, then ran them along the back of his neck and drew his head down to hers.
Her lips were wet and eager as they kissed again and she didn’t stop him when his fingers found the knot at her blouse and untied the cotton fabric.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that she should tell him no—that she should cool things off before she lost control, but she couldn’t. Her blouse parted and his hand surrounded her breast. Through the shiny fabric of her suit, he touched her, kneading the soft mound, causing her nipple to tighten.
Stop him. Stop him now a voice in the back of her mind cried, but she ignored the alarm and kissed him with more fever than before. She felt the cool air touch her shoulder, knew that he was lowering the strap o
f her swimsuit and before she could say a word, his hot lips had pressed a kiss to the top of her breast.
A low moan escaped her throat as he tugged and the suit fell away, baring the breast to the last rays of sunlight. “So beautiful,” he whispered gently, his breath hot as he took the nipple between his lips and tugged.
“Ben,” she whispered, her voice rising on the breeze.
“Don’t tell me to stop.”
“I can’t,” she murmured, closing her eyes to the feel of his callused hands kneading her flesh, the warmth of his mouth drawing hard on her nipple. Her hips raised anxiously from the nest of dried grass and desire ran hot and thick through her veins when one of his hands moved lower to cup one of her buttocks.
Somewhere, far away, a train whistle blasted, echoing up the mountainside.
Ben tensed, abruptly pulled away, looked down into her eyes, and with a stream of oaths rolled away from her to lie spread-eagled on the grass. He flung an arm over his eyes and said, “Get dressed.”
His harsh words were like a slap. Feeling like a fool, Carlie adjusted the strap of her suit and rebuttoned her blouse. “Is...is something wrong?”
Sighing loudly, he shoved his hair out of his eyes and stared up at the dusky sky. “I didn’t plan to bring you up here and seduce you.” His brows drew together in a serious line of vexation. “Oh, hell, maybe I did.”
Her back stiffened a bit. “You wouldn’t have forced me to do anything I wasn’t ready for.”
He glanced at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You don’t know me, Carlie.”
“I know you well enough.”
“Damn it all anyway!” He rolled over, grabbed the bag he’d let drop to the meadow floor and took her hand again. “We’d better get back. It’s getting dark and I don’t trust myself alone with you.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“Don’t you get it? I don’t know what I want and I was about to do something that might take away all of our options! Hell, what a mess!”
Cheeks inflamed, she adjusted her clothing and walked away from him to the cliff. Staring over the tops of trees, she saw the glimmer of water.
She heard him approaching and tensed when he wrapped his arms around her waist to link his hands beneath her breasts. “Hey, look, I’m sorry. Things were just moving too fast for me.”
“I wasn’t the one—”
“Shh. I know. Believe me, I take all the blame.”
With a sigh, she leaned back against him and wrapped her arms over his. “No blame,” she said. “It just happened.”
“And it will keep happening unless we use our heads.” For a second he was silent and she felt his breath ruffle the hair at her crown.
“You see the lake?” he said, as if trying to change the subject.
“Mmm.”
“Now look to the south. Over here.” He moved, rotating her body. “The town.”
The first lights were beginning to twinkle from the valley, shimmering up against the darkening sky.
“If you look hard enough, or with binoculars, you can see the railroad trestle bridge, city hall and the sawmill.”
She followed his gaze and noticed the railroad tracks cutting through the valley. The trestle bridge spanned Gold Creek just on the outskirts of town.
“I didn’t think you’d been up here before,” she said, once her heart had stopped drumming and she could trust her voice again.
“I’m just telling you what I heard from some of the guys who come into the store. Come on. We’d better get back.” He rummaged in his backpack, drew out a flashlight and started leading her down the trail.
Night settled over the forest and by the time they returned to Ben’s truck, they were following the steady beam of his flashlight. Carlie heard bats stir in the trees, felt the breeze as they flew low, but she wasn’t afraid. Probably because she was with Ben.
Silly, she told herself, but she trusted Ben. It came as a shock to realize that if she didn’t stop her runaway emotions, she might just end up falling in love with him.
Chapter Three
“COME ON. IT’S not every day I get the afternoon off!” Carlie said, insisting that Rachelle drop the magazine she was reading as she sat on an old patio chair on the back porch of her mother’s house. “I’ll buy you French fries and a Coke.”
“What if I want lemonade?”
“Whatever!” Carlie blew her bangs out of her eyes and waited as Rachelle told her mother what the girls had planned. Rachelle found a way to avoid dragging her little sister, Heather, with them and they drove into town with the windows down. Carlie’s T-shirt clung to her back as she parked her car near the Rexall Drugstore.
Kids on skateboards zoomed along the sidewalk, while mothers pushed strollers and adjusted sunbonnets. Heat waved up from the sidewalk and street.
Inside the store, ceiling fans whirred, but did little to lower the temperature. Carlie fanned herself with her hand as they looked into a glass case filled with costume jewelry.
“You’re seeing Ben Powell?” Rachelle repeated, lifting her eyebrows as if she hadn’t heard her friend correctly. “But I thought—”
“I know. You thought I was dating Kevin. I did for a few weeks. We went out a couple of times and it didn’t work out. I thought I told you.”
“You didn’t say anything about Ben.”
“I didn’t know Ben.” Carlie paused at a rack of sunglasses and tried on a pair with yellow lenses.
“Not you,” Rachelle advised.
“I know.” She replaced the glasses and turned her attention back to the jewelry case. She fingered a set of turquoise-and-silver earrings, held one of the big hoops up to her ear and frowned at her reflection. “I just met him the other night, at a party. Then...well, we took a drive into the mountains.”
“Are you going out with him?”
In the mirror, Carlie saw her own eyes cloud. “He hasn’t called. It’s been nearly a week.”
Rachelle tossed a shank of auburn hair over her shoulder as she eyed the pieces of bargain jewelry on the sale rack. “So you haven’t actually dated him.”
“Not really,” Carlie said. Her time with Ben in the mountains hadn’t been much of a date, and yet she’d remembered each second so vividly that even now she tingled a little. She was determined to see Ben again. She’d always been a little boy crazy, or so her mother had claimed, but she’d never been quite so bold. Usually boys had sought her out, as in the case of Ben’s older brother, but this time, it looked as if she would have to take the bull by the horns and do a little pursuing. The thought settled like lead in her stomach and she wasn’t particularly comfortable with the role. But it was long past the days when girls sat by the phone praying it would ring. Women’s lib wasn’t a new concept. So it was time to push aside the traditional roles and go for it. Right?
They walked through a section of paperback books and magazines and ended up sitting on the stools at the back counter. The menu was a big marquee positioned over the soda machines with interchangeable letters and numbers that were backlit by flickering fluorescent bulbs.
Carlie waved to her mom, glanced at the menu, but ordered her usual, a chocolate Coke and large order of fries.
“I’ll have the same,” Rachelle said, “except I’d like a cherry Coke.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Carlie teased and she noticed Rachelle shudder as if the thought of mixing chocolate and cola in a drink concoction was disgusting.
“I thought you had to work today,” Thelma said to her daughter as she scribbled their orders onto a pad, ripped off the page and clipped it to a spinning wheel for the fry cook.
“There wasn’t much happening at the studio, so Rory gave me a few hours off.”
“Are you going home? You could start dinner....”
“I, uh, already have plans. I’m meeting some kids at the lake.” She noticed the lines of strain around her mother’s eyes and lifted a shoulder. “But I could swing by the house first.”
“Would you?”
“Sure.”
Thelma busied herself making milk shakes for a crowd of preteen boys. The shake machine whined loudly.
“What’s so special about Ben?” Rachelle asked.
“Everything.”
“Come on. You can be more specific.”
“I wish.” Carlie couldn’t even explain her fascination with him to herself. “I just saw him a couple of weeks ago and really noticed him. I’d seen him before, of course, but never really paid much attention.” She blushed a little. “You know I’ve never been shy—”
“Amen.”
“So...I came up with a way to meet him.” She gave a quick version of crashing the party by the lake and Rachelle’s good mood seemed to fade, as if she were reliving the night of the Fitzpatrick party.
“I thought you’d learned your lesson.”
Carlie grinned. “I guess not.”
“So your interest in Ben has nothing to do with the fact that he and Kevin are brothers?”
“Believe me, I wish they weren’t.”
Thelma placed dewy glasses of soda in front of them. “Fries will be up in a sec,” she said with a wink. Carlie fingered her straw until her mother was out of earshot again. “I know that being interested in Ben is...well, kind of strange.”
“Crazy is the word I’d choose.”
“But I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“You?” Rachelle smiled and Carlie knew what she was thinking.
While Rachelle had barely gone out, and had spent most of her time with her nose in a book, Carlie had dated most of the guys on the basketball and swim teams. Not seriously, of course. She’d never “gone” with any boy for over two months. That had been the problem with Kevin. He’d started talking about the future, their future, here in Gold Creek. When she’d mentioned her dreams of seeing some of the world, he’d pouted, told her that she was setting herself up for a fall, that she should get real and realize that the best she could expect was a small house in Gold Creek, a good husband who worked in the mill and a couple of kids.
No, thank you. She wasn’t ready to settle down yet. There were places to see, people to meet and then, someday, maybe, she’d come back. She had the rest of her life to get married and raise a family....