Two Alone

by Sandra Brown

  “As soon as you get out of here, we’re treating you to a day of self-indulgence at the salon. Hair, skin, massage. Just look at your poor nails.” One lifted her listless hand, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “They’re ravaged.”

  Rusty smiled wanly, remembering how upset she’d been when Cooper had pared off her fingernails with his hunting knife. “I didn’t get around to having a manicure.” It was meant to be facetious, but her friends were nodding sympathetically. “I was too busy trying to stay alive.”

  One shook her intentionally tousled blond head and shuddered delicately, causing the Hermes scarf around her neck to slip. The dozen or so silver bangle bracelets on her wrist jingled like the harness on a Christmas reindeer. “You were so brave, Rusty. I think I would rather have died than go through all that you did.”

  Rusty was about to refute that remark, when she remembered that not too long ago she could have said something that shallow. “I always thought I would, too. You’d be amazed how strong the human animal’s survival instincts are. In a situation like the one I was in, they take over.”

  But her friends weren’t interested in philosophy. They wanted to hear the nitty-gritty. The get-down-and-get-dirty good stuff. One was sitting on the foot of Rusty’s bed; the other was leaning forward from the chair beside it. They looked like scavenger birds perched and ready to pick her bones clean the second she succumbed.

  The story of the crash and the events following it had appeared on the front page of that morning’s newspaper. The writer had, with only a few minor errors, meticulously chronicled Rusty’s and Cooper’s ordeal. The piece had been serious in tone and journalistically sound. But the public had a penchant for reading between the lines; it wanted to hear what had been omitted. Her friends included, the public wanted the facts fleshed out.

  “Was it just awful? When the sun went down wasn’t it terrifyingly dark?”

  “We had several lanterns in the cabin.”

  “No, I mean outside.”

  “Before you got to the cabin. When you had to sleep outdoors in the woods.”

  Rusty sighed wearily. “Yes, it was dark. But we had a fire.”

  “What did you eat?”

  “Rabbits, mostly.”

  “Rabbits! I’d die.”

  “I didn’t,” Rusty snapped. “And neither would you.” Now, why had she gone and done that? Why hadn’t she just left it alone? They were looking wounded and confused, having no idea why she had jumped down their throats. Why hadn’t she said something cute, something glib, such as telling them that rabbit meat is served in some of the finest restaurants?

  Following on the heels of that thought, of course, came one of Cooper. A pang of longing for him seized her. “I’m awfully tired,” she said, feeling the need to cry and not wanting to have to explain why.

  But subtlety didn’t work with this duo. They didn’t pick up on the hint to leave. “And your poor leg.” The one with the bracelets clapped her hand to her cheek in horror. “Is the doctor sure he can fix it?”

  Rusty closed her eyes as she answered, “Reasonably sure.”

  “How many operations will it take to get rid of that hideous scar?” Rusty felt the air stir against her face as the other friend waved frantically to the untactful speaker. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s not that hideous. I mean—”

  “I know what you mean,” Rusty said, opening her eyes. “It is hideous, but it’s better than a stump, and for a while I was afraid that’s what I’d end up with. If Cooper—”

  She broke off, having inadvertently spoken his name. Now that it was out, the carrion birds flocked to it, grasping it in their avidly curious talons.

  “Cooper?” one asked innocently. “The man who survived the crash with you?”

  “Yes.”

  The two women exchanged a glance, as though mentally tossing a coin to see who was going to pose the first of numerous questions about him.

  “I saw him on the TV news last night. My God, Rusty, he’s gorgeous!”

  “‘Gorgeous’?”

  “Well not gorgeous in the perfect sense. Not model gorgeous. I mean rugged, manly, sweaty, hairy, sexy kind of gorgeous.”

  “He saved my life,” Rusty said softly.

  “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 while 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.

  Rusty wanted to scream. “He knew things to do that I would never have thought about. He built a travois, using my fur coat, and dragged me away from the crash site—for miles. I didn’t even realize how far until I saw the distance from the helicopter.”

  “There’s something deliciously dangerous about him.” One friend gave a delicate shiver. She hadn’t heard a single word Rusty 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 nearly got out of her bed. “That’s not what the paper said at all!”

  “I put two and two together.”

  “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 your story would make a terrific movie. He and Friedkin are having 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 the 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 tetchily.

  “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 out. “The situation lends itself 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 for the duration of the winter.”

  The other took up the slack and said excitedly, “Living together like that, 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, but her brown eyes were smoldering. “You want to know if I slept with 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 their le
vel 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, round-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.”

  “Rusty claims that you saved her life.”

  “My husband and I would like to give the two of you an intimate little dinner party 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 party.”

  “I spoke first.”

  The silly chatter was irritating and embarrassing. Their squabbling made them sound like the two stepsisters in Cinderella. “I’m sure Cooper can’t stay long,” Rusty interrupted, noticing 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 gathered 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 raw. 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. They 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.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No, I’m...” She hesitated to tell him, but decided to take the plunge. The time for secrets between 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. It passed down her form lying beneath the thin blanket, then 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 see 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 there—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 tell you where I was.”

  “Your father didn’t tell me anything. I found you on my own.”

  She took heart. He’d been looking for her. Maybe all night. Maybe while she’d lain sleeping a drug-induced sleep, he’d been combing the city streets in a frantic 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 stitching.”

  He shrugged indifferently. “It worked, that’s all I care about.”

  “That’s all I care about, too.”

  “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. Of 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 though her naivete 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 the 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 gone wrong? “What did you expect to happen when we arrived in L.A.? We were and are news, Cooper. It wasn’t my fault that the reporters were there. 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 to 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. That it had been a tasteless display of affluence wasn’t the point. It was aggravating that Cooper couldn’t see that 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 clothes didn’t fit him well. “Look, I’ve got to go.”

  “Go? Now? Why? Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “To Rogers Gap?”

  “Yeah. Back to where I belong. I’ve got a ranch to look after. No telling what shape I’ll find it in when I get there.” Almost as an afterthought he glanced down at her right leg. “What about your leg? Is it going to be all right?”

  “Eventually,” she replied dully. He’s leaving. He’s going. Away from me. Possibly forever. “It’s going to take a series of operations. The first of them is being done tomorrow.”

  “I hope I didn’t do you more harm than good.”

  Her throat was tight with emotion. “You didn’t.”

  “Well, I guess this is goodbye.” He edged toward the door, trying not to make it look like an escape.

  “Maybe sometime I can drive up to Rogers Gap and say hello. You never can tell when I might get up that way.”

  “Yeah, sure. That’d be great.” His forced smile told her otherwise.

  “How...how often do you come to L.A.?”

  “Not very often,” he was honest enough to say. “Well, so long, Rusty.” Turning on the heels of his new shoes, he r
eached for the door handle.

  “Cooper, wait!” He turned back. She was sitting up in bed, poised to chase after him if necessary. “Is this how it’s going to end?”

  He nodded curtly.

  “It can’t. Not after what we’ve been through together.”

  “It has to.”

  She shook her head so adamantly that her hair flew in every direction. “You don’t fool me anymore. You’re being insensitive to protect yourself. You’re fighting it. I know you are. You want to hold me just as much as I want to hold you.”

  His jaw knotted as he ground his teeth together. At his sides, his hands formed fists. He warred with himself for several seconds before losing the battle.

  He lunged across the room and pulled her roughly into his arms. Lowering himself onto the side of the bed, he hugged her against him tightly. With their arms wrapped around each other, they rocked together. His face was buried in the cinnamon-colored hair. Hers was nestled against his throat.

  “Rusty, Rusty.”

  Thrilling to the anguish in his voice, she told him, “I couldn’t go to sleep last night without a sedative. I kept listening for your breathing. I missed being held in your arms.”

  “I missed feeling your bottom against my lap.”

  He bent his head at the same moment she lifted hers and their mouths sought each other. Their kiss was desperate with desire. He plowed all ten fingers through her hair and held her head still while he made love to her open mouth with his tongue.

  “I wanted you so bad last night, I thought I’d die,” he groaned when they moved apart.

  “You didn’t want to be separated from me?”

  “Not that way.”

  “Then why didn’t you answer me when I called out to you at the airport? You heard me, didn’t you?”

  He looked chagrined, but nodded his head yes. “I couldn’t be a performer in that circus, Rusty. I couldn’t get away from there fast enough. When I came home from Nam, I was treated like a hero.” He rubbed a strand of her hair between his fingers while he reflected on the painful past. “I didn’t feel like a hero. I’d been living in hell. In the bowels of hell. Some of the things I’d had to do... Well, they weren’t very heroic. They didn’t deserve a spotlight and accolades. I didn’t deserve them. I just wanted to be left alone so I could forget it.”