by Webb, Peggy
Maggie pulled her toboggan cap low over her eyes and walked swiftly to generate all the body heat she could. The banging noise from her pot joined the loud din that was echoing through the woods.
She came unexpectedly upon a white tail buck, poised in indecision under an ancient oak tree. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the barrel of a rifle being lifted into position.
“Shoo! Get out of here,” she yelled as she beat frantically on her pot. The buck leaped high into the air and bounded into a thicket. Maggie continued the clamor on her pot until she was sure the buck was safely away.
“Where’s your horn, Maggie?” Adam Trent stepped out of his deer stand.
She whirled to face him. “How did you know who it was?” To her mortification he looked every bit as good as he had looked Wednesday. His fleece-lined buckskin coat lent him the devastatingly virile look of a man out to conquer the wilderness.
“You’re like a bad penny, Maggie. You keep turning up.” His debonair smile took some of the bite out of the words.
“You bet your buckskin britches I keep turning up. As long as you persist in this wholesale slaughter of animals, I’ll be there.”
“That’s an unfortunate choice of words.”
“But accurate.”
“Hardly. I’d say misinformed, to put it kindly.”
“Oh, please spare me your kindness. A girl could get hurt by the brand of kindness that’s backed by a forty-four magnum.” She inclined her head to indicate the gun in Adam’s hand. A look of surprise crossed his face that she had accurately identified the kind of gun he was carrying. “I’m not quite as misinformed as you’d like to believe.”
“In some areas you are, Maggie.” He paused and pinned her to the spot with his vivid eyes. “And I’ve decided to educate you.”
Maggie bristled like an angry cat. “I don’t need educating by any animal assassin.” Taking a firm hold on her pot and spoon, she stalked toward him. “Move out of my way. I have work to do.”
His hand snaked out and caught her by the arm. Drawing her up close, he studied the stubborn, angry expression on her face. “So much passion and fire,” he murmured.
Maggie reeled under the impact of his stare. She felt herself drowning in the intensity of his gaze, a willing victim going under for the third time and loving every minute of it.
“I wonder what you would be like if all that passion were turned in a different direction.” As he spoke, his face moved closer and closer toward hers until she felt the heat of his breath stirring a lock of hair that had escaped her cap.
With superhuman effort she mentally pulled herself away from the hypnotic effect of those eyes. “You’ll never know. Barbarian!”
With the swiftness of a night hawk, and he took possession of her lips. Chilled by the December wind, his lips crushed fiercely against hers, demanding a response. His strong arms pulled her close, and even through all the layers of clothes they wore she could feel his muscled strength.
When his hand came up under her jacket, a burning heat blossomed and spread throughout her body, threatening to consume her. Maggie knew she was courting danger. But she clung to him a while longer, skirting the edge of the chasm, unwilling to plunge over the edge and unable to pull back. His lips felt wonderful on hers, and she selfishly wanted to enjoy them a moment longer, knowing that this could not, must not, happen again.
Adam’s hands moved under her jacket, seeking the silken swell of her breasts. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. “Let me go.” She shoved against him with all her strength, breaking the passionate spell they had woven. Her hand shook as she brought her soup spoon up into the air and held it in a threatening position. “I’m going to clobber you if you don’t move out of my way.”
“Tigress. You don’t need educating; you need taming.” He stood squarely in her path, an immovable hunk of maleness, challenging her, mocking her.
“I don’t need anything from you.” Her lips still felt warm from his kiss. She had a hard time shaping them around the angry words. She brandished the spoon. “Move!”
“I liked you better with the horn.” His hand shot out and grasped her wrist, stilling the threatening motion. “You’re a fascinating wildcat, Maggie, and I intend to tame you.” He moved a step closer to her, closing the distance she had deliberately put between them.
She took a deep breath, drawing fresh air into her lungs. “What do you intend to do? Mount me and hang me on your wall?”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Mount you?” he asked softly. “Now there’s an interesting idea.”
“Savage!”
His rich laugh filled the ice bound woods. “There’s a fighter under those baggy britches.”
“You leave my britches out of this!” she yelled. The heat in her body had spread to her brain. She couldn’t even think straight with him towering over her, raking her with his incredible blue eyes.
“Gladly. I’m anxious to see if you’re hiding a woman’s body under them.”
“You’re an animal. A beast!”
“Why, Maggie, I thought you loved animals.”
“Stop twisting everything I say!”
“You’re the one who came to the woods armed for battle.” His hand came up and cupped her cold face. He leaned over, bringing his lips dangerously close to hers. “What’s the matter? Don’t you know how to be a gracious victor?”
“I won again today. Just remember that.” He was so close now she could see a tiny V-shaped scar on his jawline.
“Did you, Maggie?” he asked softly as his lips descended on hers once more. She closed her eyes under the onslaught as he took her mouth with maddening ease.
Maggie sent an agonized prayer winging heavenward as she felt herself being captured by Adam’s embrace. Even as her lips moved under his, she knew he was trying to sidetrack her with his sensuous tactics. Oh, Lord. What if she enjoyed the kiss just a minute longer?
A small eternity later, he broke the kiss and stepped back from her. “Did you?” he challenged. Turning away from her, he walked swiftly into the woods, leaving her with a dangling spoon, a silent pot, and a thundering heart.
She lifted her hand and thunked the spoon against the pot, but the sound lacked conviction. Metal against metal echoed in the strangely silent woods. Maggie sniffed loudly and placed her gloved hands over her cold nose. Had everybody else already gone home? She cocked her head, listening. The woods echoed with a mocking silence.
Maggie made her way back to the pickup truck. All the other vehicles were gone, and there was no sign of Martha Jo. She opened the truck door to crawl inside and spied a note on the seat.
Maggie. I’ve hitched a ride with Carl. What took you so long? Martha Jo.
Automatically Maggie turned the key in the ignition and sat unmoving, letting the truck warm up. The sound was loud in the early-morning stillness.
She stretched her cold hands and feet toward the heater, letting the warmth seep into her. What was she going to do? She was a shambles from her encounter with Adam. Easing the truck into gear, she pulled onto the road. She couldn’t help herself: she was fascinated by the man. It was the same kind of fascination that compelled a child to reach toward a hot stove. And she would be burned. She had no doubt of that.
He was the antithesis of all she believed in. He was a sportsman, a hunter, while she was an animal lover, a preservationist.
Without thinking, Maggie turned her truck onto Highway 371, driving toward her childhood home. Sheer habit took over.
Whenever Maggie had a problem that was too big for her, she turned to her father. Dr. Merriweather had always been a rock in all the storms that had raged around Maggie.
o0o
Maggie parked her truck under the huge magnolia tree in front of the modest brick house. She hopped out and headed toward the back of the house to the concrete block building that housed the veterinary clinic. This time of day, Dr. Merriweather always fed the animals.
She opened the door and just
stood there for a minute, smelling the familiar antiseptic odors, feeling the comforting security of being home.
Her father was bending over a sick beagle, coaxing him to eat. “Come on, boy. Just one little bite.” His thick white hair was in disarray from his habit of constantly raking his fingers through it. A baggy gray sweater, its pockets stuffed with lollipops, hung on his spare frame.
Maggie’s heart lifted at the sight of him. “Dad?” she called softly.
He swiveled his shaggy head toward the sound, and his weathered face crinkled into a smile. “Maggie, darlin’, how good to see you.” He came forward and wrapped her in a warm embrace. “Come over here and take a look at Joe. He’s pining away for his litter mate, poor little fellow. They both had distemper, and the other one died yesterday. See if you can do anything for the little guy.”
As Dr. Merriweather talked, a sense of peace stole over her. The gentleness and compassion that radiated from her father enveloped her, stilling the turmoil in her mind.
Together they bent over the tiny black and tan beagle and encouraged him to eat. Their efforts were finally rewarded when his pink tongue came out and he began to lap up the soupy mixture that had been prepared for him.
Dr. Merriweather beamed. “You always did have a magic touch with the animals.” He straightened and pushed his glasses back on his nose. “How about some tea, darlin’?”
She matched her stride to his as they left the clinic and went through the back door into her father’s old-fashioned kitchen. A fire crackled in the small stone fireplace, and two rockers with blue chintz cushions stood nearby.
Maggie pulled off her coat and hat, sat in one of the rockers, and leaned forward, holding her hands close to the fire. “I’ve come for tea and sympathy, Dad.”
“That’s what I figured.” He puttered about the kitchen, whistling as he set the tea kettle on to boil. “I’m here, Maggie.”
That was all he said. She knew he would never pry but would wait for Maggie to confide as little or as much as she wished.
“You know about Friends of the Animals?” The blazing fire cast a reddish glow over Maggie’s tumbled hair. She had set the chair in motion and was rocking back and forth. The gentle rhythm, the crackling fire, and her father’s presence began to lull her into a sense of well being.
Her father came over to her carrying two cups of steaming tea. Placing one in Maggie’s hand, he settled comfortably into the other rocker with his tea. “Yes. I’m proud of you for founding that organization. I’ve devoted my life to the care and welfare of animals. It’s good to have my daughter following in my footsteps.”
“We’re trying to save game animals now by going into the woods and scaring them away with noise.”
He chuckled. “A bit unorthodox but probably very effective.”
Maggie smiled. “I think so.” She paused, biting her lower lip. She hadn’t come to talk about methods of saving the animals. She took a sip of her tea.
“Dad, there’s some high-powered opposition to my cause. Do you know Adam Trent?”
“Yes. He’s very successful and influential, but underneath it all he’s just a man, darlin’, just like the rest of us.”
“That means he has feet of clay, too, huh?” Her father nodded, and she continued. “It’s not that I’m afraid to fight him. It’s just that he bothers me in a way I never expected.”
“You have courage and brains, Maggie, a formidable combination.”
“You’re not just saying that because you’re prejudiced, are you?” she asked, teasing.
“Can I help it if I raised the most beautiful, most brilliant daughter in all of Lee County?” His glasses had slid down on his nose again, and he gazed fondly over them at Maggie. “What I’m saying, love, is that I have confidence in you.”
“I needed to hear you say that, Dad. It puts things in proper perspective for me. I’m not fighting against Adam. I’m fighting for the animals.”
The clock on the mantel chimed the hour as Maggie and her father sipped their tea and rocked in comfortable silence. At last she rose from her chair, toasty warm and glowing with self-confidence. “I’d better be going, Dad.”
“Be careful on the roads, Maggie. That drizzle is probably freezing, and they’ll be slick.” Dr. Merriweather helped Maggie into her jacket.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m in my trusty four wheel drive.” She kissed her father on the cheek and waved good-bye.
o0o
Because of the condition of the roads, Maggie canceled her Friends meeting that evening. She showered, shampooed her hair, put on a comfortable blue fleece bathrobe, and curled up in front of her fire with a stack of papers to grade.
She chuckled to herself as she corrected the second-grade sentences. Everthang I dun fun was not good grammar, but it was truly delightful philosophy.
When the doorbell rang she wondered who would be crazy enough to be out on the roads. The steady rain had not stopped all day, and the below freezing temperatures had left the roads covered with a sheet of ice. Travelers braved the roads at their own risk.
She wrapped her robe more snugly around herself, pulled the belt in tight, raked a hand through her still-damp mane of hair, and went to answer the door. Adam Trent stood in the glow of her porch light.
“Is this where the Friends of the Animals group meets?”
“I canceled the meeting.” She stood in the door and thought of the way he had kissed her in the woods. Her knees turned to butter. He had no business being here, she thought, none at all.
“May I come in or do you intend to make me stand out here and freeze?”
She certainly thought it would be best for all concerned if he stood on her porch and froze solid. Then she would be rid of him, and there would be no one to make her forget her cause. She meant to say, “I really don’t care,” and march back into her warm den, but instead it came out, “Come inside. Can I get you a cup of hot tea?” Sometimes Maggie’s deeply ingrained Southern manners managed to prevent her from doing wicked deeds.
When Adam Trent stepped inside her cottage, it suddenly seemed small. There was hardly anywhere she could turn without brushing against his coat sleeve or rubbing against his legs. She thought of going around him by climbing over the back of the sofa but dismissed that as too obvious.
“If you’ll sit there”—she nodded in the general direction of a chair—”I’ll go make the tea.”
She saw her den for the first time as Adam’s eyes took it in—the antique rocker, the fat, comfy calico sofa, braided throw rugs on the polished wooden floor. “Nice,” he said.
She beamed all the way to the kitchen and felt as if she had been tapped for a House and Garden layout. She clattered around, knocking teacups and saucers about in the cabinet as she searched for a matching pair. Behind her, the copper teapot got up a full head of steam.
The two garage sale cups in her hands looked almost the same. She put one in its saucer and had begun to lower the other when the teapot whistled. The cup clattered to the brick floor and shattered. “Oh, shoot,” she muttered.
She bent down to pick up the pieces and her robe gaped open, top and bottom.
“Need any help in here?” Adam Trent stood leaning against the doorframe, reviewing the scene. His eyes spent all of two seconds on the broken teacup, and then came to rest on Maggie.
“I was right. There’s quite a woman underneath those baggy britches.” His eyes gleamed in a predatory way, and his smile made Maggie think of a big, fat cat getting ready to swallow the canary.
Maggie jumped up amid the broken china and jerked her robe shut, belting it furiously. “Did you come all the way out here to Belden to leer at me? If you did, just get back into your Mercedes and go home.” She clutched the robe high around her throat.
“I did not, but when opportunity knocks I always answer the call.”
“That wasn’t opportunity knocking; that was the teapot.” She jerked the kettle off the stove and sloshed the hot water into the unbrok
en cup, then reached into the cabinet and chose another cup for herself. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering to pour you any tea. You’ve worn out your welcome.”
“It’s good to know that for a while I was welcome.” He walked up behind her and put his arms around her, steadying her hands with his. “You’re going to burn yourself.”
She had already burned herself. That afternoon in the woods. And her wounds were still smarting. Every inch of flesh on her back tingled as Adam pressed his solid chest against her, assisting her in pouring the tea.
Somehow the water ended up in the cup, but Adam still stood with his arms around Maggie. “We’ve finished,” she announced in a hopeful voice.
“On the contrary. We’ve just begun.” He took the brimming cup from Maggie’s hands and turned nonchalantly around as if he had just made a remark about the weather.
His words whirled in Maggie’s head as she turned slowly to face him. He looked perfectly delicious standing in the middle of her kitchen.
Unconsciously she pulled the neck of her robe tighter. She had already consorted with this clever enemy once today, and she was too smart to make the same mistake twice.
“How do you want your tea? With just a touch of arsenic?”
His smile was lazy, like an animal feasting his eyes on his prey. “How about with a touch of tea?” He watched her uncomprehending expression in amusement. “I assume you did intend to put a tea bag or some instant tea in this hot water?”
“Naturally,” she said breezily as she whirled back to the cabinet and puttered noisily among the shelves, searching for the instant tea. Her garage sale cups and saucers clanked and rattled from the onslaught of her furious search. If Adam wouldn’t stand so close back there, breathing down her neck, she might be able to find what she was looking for.
“I see it on the front of the second shelf,” Adam offered helpfully.
“I know that,” Maggie snapped. “I was just rearranging the dishes.” She grabbed the jar and viciously unscrewed the lid. “One spoon or two?”