Cabin Fever

by Karen Rose Smith

  That doesn’t matter, she chastised herself.

  After she fiddled with the flashlight, unpacked her suitcase and found the clothes she wanted, she changed, not anxious to go back into the fray with Brad. The violet sweats had been a Christmas gift from her sisters. They were comfortable, as were the crew socks she pulled onto her feet. With her wet clothes off, the room was still cold but she didn’t feel quite as chilled.

  Sniffing, she caught the scent of burning wood. She’d lived in an apartment all her life and had never been in a house with a fireplace. That more than anything else urged her to open the bedroom door and go back out into dangerous territory.

  But when she stepped into the living room, she froze.

  Brad was standing in front of the fire, pulling a pair of jeans from his suitcase on the sofa.

  He was stark naked!

  Chapter Three

  In spite of herself, Emily couldn’t look away. Brad was magnificent with the firelight flickering over his skin, shadows playing in intimate places. Stunned and absolutely speechless, she noticed that with no shirt to hide his muscles, Brad’s shoulders seemed twice as broad. His chest hair was black and curly, and as she followed it down—

  Either she made a sound or he sensed her presence. Rather than looking embarrassed, though, he tossed her a grin, obviously unashamed of his body.

  She swiveled around, ready to run back to the bedroom, when she heard the rustle of jeans, the clank of a buckle and the quick rasp of a zipper.

  “You can turn around now. I didn’t expect you to come out so quickly. Women usually take a lot longer than that to change their clothes.”

  Maybe the women he dated.

  Her hand went to her hair. She hadn’t even taken time to brush it after she’d slipped on the violet top that went with her pants. “I guess I’m not your typical woman,” she responded blithely.

  Though her cheeks still felt as if they were on fire, looking straight ahead, she went to the kitchen, trying to pretend seeing him naked hadn’t affected her at all. Although he’d pulled on jeans, the snap above his fly was still undone, his belt buckle was unfastened and he was shirtless.

  “So what’s for supper?” she asked him, her heart still racing as she kept her gaze away from his bare skin.

  After he pulled on socks, he rummaged in his suitcase to find a flannel shirt. “Since we had the hot chocolate and we have a good fire, why don’t we go with peanut butter sandwiches and a can of fruit for tonight. In the morning we can use the Sterno and try to cook eggs.”

  She knew he’d bought more than one Sterno unit. Nevertheless, she still had the feeling Brad was keeping something from her. Maybe he was concerned the snow would fall more heavily during the night and they wouldn’t be able to dig themselves out.

  “Peanut butter’s good, but you can have the can of fruit. I’ll eat an apple.”

  “A purist,” he teased with a smile that almost made her toes curl.

  “With some things,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  The kitchen was cold and getting colder. Only the living room held warmth, because of the fire. “I guess we could eat on the sofa.”

  “If you want to stay warm.”

  With him beside her on the sofa, she had the feeling she’d be plenty warm. While she made the peanut butter sandwiches—two for him, one for her—he popped the top on the can of fruit and then hunted in the cupboard for the cookies he’d stowed there. He’d let his shirt hang out over his jeans, and she had the disturbing urge to slip her hands under it and touch his bare skin.

  What in the world was happening to her?

  With a quick twist of her wrist, she closed the jar of peanut butter. “You never did tell me how you learned to clean up after yourself.”

  Leaning against the counter, holding the bag of cookies, he casually crossed one foot over the other. “No, I didn’t.”

  The sound of his voice was unusual. “Does that mean you’re not going to tell me?”

  “You’re different here than you are in the office.”

  If that was his way of not answering her question, it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t going to let him turn the tables on her. “And you’re changing the subject.”

  The oil lamp on the kitchen table flickered, as if a sudden draft had given it renewed life. Its light was reflected in Brad’s eyes. He seemed to stare at the flame for a few seconds before his gaze finally met hers. “Kids pick up habits out of necessity.”

  The statement seemed incongruous with his background. It was well known that Phillip Vaughn had come from money, even if he hadn’t been successful in his own right. As a boy, Brad should have had every advantage, as well as a maid picking up after him.

  Uncrossing his ankles, the casual pose forgotten, Brad set the cookies on the counter as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite for them.

  As she thought about his statement, she said softly, “I know what you mean. After Dad died, Mom was scattered. Since Eric was the oldest and a boy, she looked to him to do some of the things Dad had done—everything from taking out the garbage to helping sort through her finances. Lizbeth, Elaine and I had to pretty much fend for ourselves. Since I was the oldest of the three of us, I took care of them and also took over a lot of the household chores. Mom had to work longer hours to make ends meet.”

  “Did you resent it?”

  “I’d like to say I didn’t, but sometimes I did when my friends could do things I couldn’t. But most of the time I just felt needed. I learned how to manage time, leftovers in the refrigerator, even the girls’ activities. What about you? Did you resent what you had to learn?”

  “My situation was different from yours.”

  Waiting, she hoped patience would encourage Brad to go on. It did.

  “My parents divorced when I was twelve. I lived with my mother during the school week, and on weekends I lived with my dad in the house where I’d grown up. In the beginning I would forget a schoolbook at one place, a favorite toy at another. I couldn’t depend on anyone to know exactly what I needed except for me. It became important for me to find a place for everything—then I could lay a hand on it at a moment’s notice.”

  “That must have been so hard having two homes but not a real home.” Brad must have constantly felt as if he were being pulled in two directions.

  He shrugged. “I got used to it, but no child should have to.”

  Picking up the two paper plates with the sandwiches, he nodded toward the sofa. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

  In the living room Brad set the plates on the wrought-iron-and-glass coffee table in front of the sofa. He’d brought along a can of soda with the cookies, and Emily had picked up a bottle of water.

  Instead of sitting, Brad moved the coffee table to the side and pushed the sofa closer to the fire. “If you’re cold, I could pull a blanket off the bed.”

  She curled in a corner of the sofa closest to the fire. “I’m okay for now.”

  When Brad sat beside Emily, there was half a sofa cushion between them, and it seemed like no space at all. They made polite conversation as they ate, and Emily began to relax. To her surprise, Brad was easy to talk to as she explained she’d like to go to college. He drew her out about courses she was interested in. When she asked him about his years on Wall Street, he told her stories that made her laugh.

  As the fire burned lower, the windowpanes stopped rattling, and she hoped the storm was over.

  Brad had opened the pack of chocolate cookies and now he held it out to her. “Want one?”

  Her apple had disappeared after her peanut butter sandwich. The chocolate-covered cookie with marshmallow in the center did look good. Pulling one from the bag, she took a bite. Then she closed her eyes and savored it.

  Brad’s voice was low and deep as he said, “There are a lot more. You don’t have to spend so much time on that one.”

  After she opened her eyes, she realized he’d been watching her. She’d been enjoying the cookie as if it were the most sens
ual experience on earth, and he’d apparently seen that. He’d apparently liked seeing that.

  When he looked at her as if she were one of those chocolate cookies, her breath almost stopped. For two years she’d watched Brad from afar, wondering what he was like. Six months ago, when he’d given her the job as his personal secretary, she’d told herself any attraction she felt had to be swept under a rug. She’d warned herself against feeling anything for him. Her relationship with Warner Bradshaw should have taught her that men like Brad, men like Warner, thought they ruled the world.

  But tonight she’d seen a different side to Brad and she liked it. Her thoughts slipped back to seeing him naked by the firelight, and she knew more than anything in the world that this moment she wanted him to kiss her. She’d shifted from her corner of the couch in the course of their conversation and now her knee practically brushed his.

  “Emily.” Low and husky, his voice fell over her as his gaze roamed her face.

  Her mouth went dry as she managed a small, “What?”

  Moving closer to her, his thumb stroked over her upper lip. “Chocolate crumbs.”

  When her hand went to her lips, it was caught by his. “Since yesterday,” he began, “there’s been a buzz between us. Do you feel it?”

  She could only nod.

  He leaned even closer. “I’m going to kiss you.”

  It was a declaration of intent, and she realized why he’d made it. She could move away. She could run to the bedroom and shut the door. She could pretend she wanted another chocolate cookie more than his kiss. But that wouldn’t be true.

  For months she’d wanted to run her fingers through his hair. For months she’d seen his beard shadow at the end of the day and wondered what it would feel like against her cheek. His stubble now made him look even sexier than usual, if that was possible.

  As his hand came up to cup her cheek, she kept perfectly still, afraid she’d break the spell.

  His long, warm fingers slid into her hair as he brought her face closer to his.

  The fire crackled in the hearth as a different fire that had lain dormant for months came to life inside of her. When Brad’s lips covered hers, tiny rockets exploded all through her body and she wanted one thing—to experience more.

  Brad’s tongue slipped inside her mouth, and after a few moments of pure erotic pleasure, he pulled back. He was breathing raggedly and so was she as he smiled at her. “You taste like peanut butter and chocolate.”

  She couldn’t speak because the kiss had been too short—an appetizer when she wanted the whole meal. That must have shown in her eyes.

  With a groan, his head bent to hers again, and this time there was no holding back as he let his hunger show.

  Brad Vaughn not only looked sexy, he was sexy. She’d never experienced anything like his kiss. It was intense and demanding and seductive. Her hand went to the nape of his neck and she inhaled his scent. She inhaled Brad.

  The longer they kissed, the more the strokes of his tongue inflamed her. The longer they kissed, the more her thoughts scattered. The longer they kissed, the more she forgot about everything but Brad.

  As he laid her back on the sofa, she embraced him, eager to stroke his back, eager to lift his shirt and feel his hot skin.

  At her touch, he shuddered, then he stilled and broke the kiss. Propped on his forearms, he stared down at her. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  The question brought Emily back to the real world, and that wasn’t the cabin where they were stranded. He brought her back to her life in Chicago and who she was and who he was. Then she remembered the pain when Warner had left and she remembered the devastation when she’d lost her baby. For goodness’ sake, Brad had been accused of fathering a woman’s child! Didn’t that show her the writing on the wall?

  When she tried to scramble to a sitting position, he lifted himself off her and sat on the sofa. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered.

  Although she was upset, flustered and still longing for more of his kisses, she asked indignantly, “What does that mean?”

  He ran his hand over his face. “Nothing. We both just got caught up in the moment.”

  But she couldn’t let it go. She had a feeling he was making comparisons and she didn’t like it. “I guess I’ve had a lot fewer of those moments than you have.” It was meant to be a stab at his lifestyle, but it wasn’t a very good one.

  “I know.”

  His attitude fired her anger because she wasn’t as naive as he thought. “You don’t know everything.”

  “No, I don’t. If I knew everything, I wouldn’t have asked you to come along.”

  That stung, and she couldn’t help the quick tears that came to her eyes. Not wanting him to see, she turned away from him, picked up the empty paper plates and announced, “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

  “I’ll try to get some water from the pump. You won’t be able to flush the toilet without it.”

  How did he know all of these things?

  She hated depending on his know-how, on his survival skills, but she had no choice. She just knew she was going to keep her distance from him until they got back to Thunder Canyon and civilization. Until they got back to Chicago, where everything would be ordinary again.

  When Brad awakened the following morning, sun streamed in the cabin windows. The fire had gone out and the rooms were cold. Immediately he noticed Emily was still asleep, almost invisible cuddled inside the two blankets she’d wrapped around herself.

  They’d gone to sleep in stony silence, and that had been his fault. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He shouldn’t have even thought about kissing her.

  Still troubled by feelings he didn’t understand, troubled by the effects of that kiss, he drew back his blankets and sat up. Fortunately he’d found extra covers in the closet, along with a sheepskin jacket and a down parka. Brad wondered if they belonged to Caleb or whoever had lived here before. It didn’t matter. He was just glad someone had left them.

  He’d slept in his clothes last night, in deference to Emily, not wanting a repeat of what had happened last evening when she’d caught him naked. He’d try to play it low-key, but the way her eyes had roved over him had unsettled him, raised his temperature and made him wonder what it was about this woman that suddenly got to him.

  When he threw back the covers and stood, Emily’s head popped up from under her blankets. “Where are you going?” She was sleep-tousled, and her voice was husky from awakening quickly.

  Trying for a casual tone, he answered with, “After I brush my teeth, I’m going to try to dig us out. I know it’s cold in here, but I think we should wait until I come back in to light the fire.”

  “But if we’re leaving today—”

  That’s what she wanted and so did he, but he didn’t think it was going to happen. “Last night when I brought in the bucket of water, we’d already gotten about four to six inches of snow. I’m not sure that car can handle it.”

  She looked totally crestfallen.

  “As I said, I’m going out to assess the damage.”

  Quickly sitting up, she declared, “I’m going with you.”

  “Emily, there’s no need.”

  “We’re stranded here together, Brad. I’m going to do my part.”

  By now he’d realized she had a very stubborn streak. “Fine. You can wear that parka we found. It should keep you warm.”

  Before she could argue with him about that, he headed for the bathroom.

  As they stepped outside fifteen minutes later, the sun gleaming off the snow almost blinded them. Emily held her hand to her forehead like a visor and turned in slow circles, scanning all of it. “I can’t believe anyone would want a cabin out here. It’s so deserted.” The parka seemed to swallow her up, and she looked adorable.

  “It’s isolated, but there could be a neighbor over the next rise. There’s plenty of creatures, too, if you look for them. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyplace more…serene. Listen,” he advi
sed her.

  When she did, a puzzled expression came over her face. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “That’s the point. Where else can you hear silence like this?”

  Her gaze met his, and the powerful connection he’d felt last night when he was kissing her seemed to be there again. But then she broke eye contact and glanced at the car. It was snow-covered, and her expression fell.

  “I found a shovel and broom out back last night. I’ll get them, then see if we can move the car.” But he doubted that they’d be able to move it very far.

  She motioned to the sun, whose rays were a welcome relief from the cold inside the cabin. “Maybe it will melt it all.”

  “Maybe it will,” he agreed, yet he knew snowmelt from the mountains could cause more problems. It was the reason the creek was already running full.

  For the next half hour he shoveled around the tires of the car, while Emily used the broom to brush the snow from the hood and the trunk, then returned to the cabin for her camera. He was aware of her shooting photos of the scenery.

  After he’d also shoveled the snow away from around the car, he gazed down the half mile that led to the bridge.

  Taking the car keys from his pocket, he said, “I’m going to see how far I can get.”

  Before he could stop her, she’d climbed in the passenger side.

  “Afraid I’ll leave you behind?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “I’m not taking any chances.”

  Although the remark might have been joking, Brad sensed Emily didn’t trust him. He’d sensed that in the wall she kept around herself since she’d become his secretary. Last night that wall had slipped, but now she was evidently sorry about that.

  After a cough and a sputter, the car started up. But as soon as Brad left the area he’d shoveled, he was spinning his tires. When he glanced at Emily, he saw her expression—it was near panic. “This obviously isn’t going to work. We’ll have to try something else.”