Mountain Mystic

by Debra Dixon

  Joshua sighed. His psi ability didn’t work like that. He couldn’t flick it on and off like a light switch. Unfortunately, his curiosity about the lady had kicked in, aided and abetted by a healthy biological drive he’d ignored for too long. He wanted to see if he could read her possessions even if he couldn’t read her.

  “Look,” she told him, “I’m not usually so rude that I wander into houses uninvited. I had no business coming inside. Please don’t hold that against me. I truly am sorry.”

  “I’m not. Actually, you looked pretty good from where I was standing. Finding you in my bed was the highlight of my morning.”

  She blushed. “Then brighten up my day and give me five minutes, okay?”

  What could possibly happen if he let her stay? Nothing, he told himself. Nothing at all if he remembered who she was and that she wanted Indiana Jones, not Joshua Logan. “All right. You’ve got five minutes.”

  Victoria resisted the urge to grin as she followed him the few steps to the old couch and armchair arranged cozily in front of the wood stove. For future reference, she filed away the fact that Joshua Logan was susceptible to puppy-dog eyes. With a hand motion he signaled her to take the couch and settled himself in the armchair.

  His elbows rested on the arm supports, and his hands were clasped in front of his abdomen. She noticed a sexy gold ring on the little finger of his right hand. The ring’s design looked old, old enough to be a family heirloom, and oddly familiar. Golden vines twined around each other, blending to form a circle.

  To cover her overwhelming urge to reach out and touch Joshua’s ring, she dragged her eyes back up to his face, which unfortunately was just as sexy, despite—or maybe because of—the intensity in his eyes. She had a soft spot for strong, silent types, and everything about him was strong—his mouth, his jawline, those big hands. Looking at him made her feel restless and excited inside.

  Why now? she wondered. The fluttery feeling of attraction had been absent for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to have butterflies banging against her stomach. Why did she have them now, when it was the worst possible moment for the feeling to come back? She didn’t need him, didn’t need an inexplicable attraction scattering her thoughts and making it difficult to remember why she was alone with this man.

  “So,” Joshua prompted her, “show me what you’ve got.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not a mind reader. It doesn’t work like that.” He held his hands cupped, palms up. “I have to hold it.”

  “Hold what?” Victoria asked, and cleared her throat. His hands were going to be her downfall if she couldn’t keep her eyes off them. This fascination was so juvenile, but his hands and that ring struck a chord of memory, which was impossible. He wasn’t the kind of man a woman could forget.

  Joshua noticed for the first time that she didn’t carry a purse. He clasped his hands together again. “Do you need to get something out of the truck?”

  “N-no,” she said warily, as if answering a trick question.

  He leaned back in the chair and stared at her with surprise. She didn’t have an antique trinket to press into his hands; she didn’t even seem to know what he was talking about. In the space of several seconds he revised his opinion of Victoria Bennett. Maybe she didn’t want a piece of his soul after all.

  If she didn’t want to use his abilities, then what did she want? Not being able to read her emotions fascinated him. With most people he could at least get a tiny hint. But not with her. “I think old Doc Grenwald is playing one of his little games. If he’s let you come up here empty-handed, then he’s sent you up here on a wild-goose chase.”

  “I’m not chasing wild geese,” Victoria told him. “If you want to know the truth, I’m chasing you.”

  A rush of male satisfaction flooded Joshua, then slowly faded as he realized Victoria wasn’t flirting. She was simply stating a fact in that damnable bedroom voice of hers.

  “Thanks for the warning,” he drawled, and moved forward to rest his forearms on his spread knees. Unexpectedly, his ego demanded that he ruffle her composure, make her acknowledge the chemistry he felt between them. “Saves me the trouble of having to chase you. What happens when you catch me?”

  His tone was blatantly suggestive, sending sensual signals her body remembered all too well. There was no denying that she wanted to flirt right back, but she refused to give in to the impulse. She didn’t have time for men; she needed to save her energy for the practice.

  “When I catch you”—she told him matter-of-factly—“I intend to put you behind the wheel of that beat-up old Range Rover. I need a guide. Someone who knows all the back roads.”

  “Buy a map,” Joshua snapped, stung that she appeared oblivious of the sexual undercurrents he was feeling.

  “I have a map. What I need is a guide. Dr. Grenwald said you spent all summer roaming around and getting reacquainted. You grew up here, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “Great. I need to know this area backward and forward before winter drops a pile of snow and a sheet of ice all over it. What I wouldn’t give for a nice flat, straight stretch of road.” Regretfully, she shook her head. “Do you have any idea how confusing these mountain roads are?”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Joshua told her curtly.

  “I’ll have to. I won’t have much choice if you don’t help me. Show me around the area. It won’t take more than a couple of weeks.”

  “A couple of weeks!”

  “I promise I’ll work around your schedule, whatever it is. All I have to cover is the triangle of Mention, Bodewell, and Logan’s Hollow.”

  “All?” Joshua raised his eyebrows. “That’s a lot of territory, lady. You don’t honestly expect to cover those three communities and everything in between? On a regular basis, I mean.”

  Victoria leaned forward. “Who else is going to do it?”

  “Whoever did it before you got here.”

  “No one did it. That’s why I’m here. Don’t you ever read the newspaper?” she asked, wondering how he could have missed the front-page article in the area’s weekly paper, The Triangle, “Those three communities paid for my education, and in exchange I agreed to set up a practice here. For at least three years.”

  “So tell them to hire you a guide. You don’t need me.”

  Victoria gave a sigh and scooted back into the earth-tone sofa. “There’s the rub. They paid for my education, and for as long as I practice here I get seven thousand dollars a year for living expenses. That’s it. Everything else is up to me.”

  “Seven thousand a year won’t even cover rent, utilities, and food,” Joshua told her bluntly.

  She shrugged. “Tell me about it! Rent and food are the least of my worries. I spent every dime of my savings on equipment, clinic space, supplies, malpractice insurance, and … you name it.”

  “That must have been some savings.”

  “Hardly. I also got a small business loan from the National Bank on the strength of last year’s birth rate, Dr. Grenwald’s recommendation as my backup physician, and my hospital privileges at Bodewell Hospital. The town and hospital have agreed to equip a small one-room ABC, but—”

  “Whoa. You’re talking to a man, and we don’t know the secret maternity code words. What is an ABC?”

  “Alternative birthing center.”

  Joshua motioned with his hand for her to keep going. “That’s not terribly helpful.”

  “It’s a low-intervention, family-oriented birthing facility. We can send the mother and baby home about twelve hours after delivery. Listen, Mr. Logan—”

  “Call me Joshua.”

  “Joshua. What this all boils down to is that I don’t have much cash. I need someone who can afford to go traipsing around the mountains for free. And”—she couldn’t resist a quick glance around the clean but minimally furnished cabin—“Dr. Grenwald assured me that you were somewhat reclusive, but not hurting for money.”

  Laughing, Jo
shua thought about his last book advance and said, “Not exactly. This place is temporary. I’m building over the ridge.”

  Victoria’s mouth formed a perfect O, and speculation lit her eyes a second before she smiled. “You mean that gorgeous cabin over the ridge is yours?”

  Suddenly apprehensive, Joshua asked, “You’ve seen it?”

  “I saw it this morning. I took a wrong turn about a quarter mile back on this thing you call a road. It’s very … big,” she said, although humongous would have been a better word. “Is all that space just for you, or did you invite the circus to winter with you?”

  “I like space.” Giving her a hard stare, he asked, “Did you go inside?”

  “Well,” Victoria began defensively, “that door was unlocked too and I was—”

  “Looking for me,” he finished, wondering what she’d touched and if he’d find her echo inside the place. “Is there a house within ten miles that you haven’t been inside, looking for me?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … it’s just that I really needed to talk to you. Where else am I going to get a guide for free?”

  “Victoria, you don’t need a guide. You need a keeper.”

  “Are you volunteering for the job?”

  TWO

  “Me?” Joshua asked, surprised. “Volunteering to be your keeper?”

  “Well … I can respond to the idea of needing a keeper in one of two ways. If you’re volunteering, I’ll swallow my pride and ignore the insult because I need your help. If you aren’t volunteering, I can afford to be insulted and tell you that I most certainly do not need a keeper. Especially one who goes around leaving all his doors unlocked.”

  “Touché.”

  “I thought so,” she agreed in a superior tone, but couldn’t hide the amusement in her eyes. “I’m so glad you got the point. I wasn’t quite sure you would.” She sighed. “Chauvinist hides are thick.”

  A corner of Joshua’s mouth turned up. He’d forgotten what it was like to have a long conversation with a woman who wasn’t trying to impress him or worried about her mind being read. Not that he could read minds. He read emotions, not thoughts.

  Except with Victoria he couldn’t read anything. All he could feel was pure chemistry, a male attraction to a pair of incredible gray eyes. Intellectually he might like more insight into Victoria, but what he really wanted was to sink his fingers in her hair, which teased him by slipping demurely behind one shoulder and tumbling over the other.

  “So …” Victoria prompted gently, “are you volunteering to help me or not?”

  “You know, most of the women who break into my houses aren’t nearly so pushy.”

  “Ah, well. There you go,” she teased with a shrug. “I’m not most women.”

  “I think I’m beginning to figure that out for myself,” he murmured, wondering how he could feel relaxed and hot at the same time. Wasn’t he supposed to feel one way or the other? “Where exactly do you come from, Victoria Bennett?”

  “Connecticut, darling. A veritable prison of privilege,” she quipped, and then wished she hadn’t when he raised one eyebrow in sudden interest.

  “I see.” Joshua congratulated himself on being right about her. She was country clubs and yachts. Or had been. Victoria was hiding secrets; he’d bet real money on it. She had a pair of emerald studs in her ears that probably cost more than a few months’ rent, but she wore a Mickey Mouse watch with a black leather band.

  Why was she living practically from hand to mouth in the mountains of Tennessee? He tapped his index finger against the arm of the chair a couple of times, and then speculated, “My guess is that Victoria Bennett broke out of prison and ran off to become a midwife. Am I right?”

  Not quite sure how to answer, Victoria busied herself removing an infinitesimal speck of lint from her leggings.

  “Am I?” he pressed.

  His question cut right to the heart of her feelings about Richard, her parents, and home. “Connecticut’s not really like that.” Victoria got up and walked a few steps toward the kitchen alcove. She made a pretense of inspecting the antique table’s wood grain pattern. With her back to him she said lightly, “I was only joking, of course.”

  Like hell, Joshua thought. If you were joking, you’d be looking me in the eye. What’s wrong with Connecticut, Victoria? He decided he wanted a chance to find out. “How long did you say this guide stuff was going to take?”

  Victoria whipped around, wide-eyed, and then grinned. “The minute I saw you, I knew you’d do it.”

  “Don’t jump the gun here. I haven’t actually volunteered yet,” he told her as he stood and began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

  “Of course you have. Tennessee’s the Volunteer State. I’m a damsel in distress. You have to say yes or risk your state’s reputation.”

  “That nickname refers to fighting Indians and going to war. Showing a midwife around the Triangle doesn’t compare. We wouldn’t be risking life and limb.”

  “Obviously, you haven’t seen a pregnant woman in transition.” Victoria chuckled, thinking about the most intense forty-five minutes of labor. “Bloodthirsty Indians do not hold a candle. Trust me on this.”

  “I don’t trust most people.”

  “How sad for you,” she said quietly, and extended her hand as if to shake on their deal. “But not to worry, you can trust me. I’m not most people.”

  Joshua eyed the slender hand and blunt-cut nails. Normally, he didn’t shake hands. The gesture was too intimate, almost emotional voyeurism, but he found himself in the unusual position of wanting to close his hand around hers. He wanted to know if the warmth in her voice was in her emotions too, and maybe he’d find out if he touched her. More than anything else, though, he wanted to touch her for the simple pleasure of making a physical connection.

  When his palm slid against hers, the only sensation Joshua felt was the erotic friction of skin against skin. The only emotions he experienced were his own, and they tumbled together in an impossible mix of rationalization, intuition, and passion.

  Victoria Bennett was just the kind of woman he made it a habit to avoid. He didn’t need his sixth sense to tell him that. It was all there in her body language, on her face, in her glorious gray eyes, in her voice, in her career. She’d be calm in crisis, hot in bed, and the greatest shame of all was that maternal streak a mile wide. She was a midwife. The two went hand in hand.

  He needed space, not nurturing. He needed to keep people out, not let them in. Unfortunately, she challenged him, made him forget all the promises he made to himself when he came back to the mountain. She made him forget everything except how her hand fit in his and how he wanted more than a handshake.

  Staring at their hands, Victoria knew this was anything but a proper handshake. He wasn’t supposed to be rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand. She wasn’t supposed to feel tingly or shy. She wasn’t supposed to be staring at the contrast of his tanned skin against the paleness of hers.

  A handshake wasn’t supposed to go on this long. Certainly not a business handshake. But this isn’t business, she reminded herself. She’d known that the moment his hand found hers.

  Silence stretched between them, so powerful it roared in her ears and stopped time. All she could focus on was the pad of his thumb stroking softly against her skin. She didn’t dare look up, afraid of what Joshua would see in her eyes. He already knew about Connecticut; she didn’t want him to see how much one silly handshake affected her.

  Victoria Elizabeth Radcliff Bennett didn’t lust after men in public. She much preferred to lust in her heart, where it was safe. Where she couldn’t be rejected. Richard had taught her all about how important it was to hide emotions, about never letting anyone see what buttons to push.

  Finally, she said, “I should go now.”

  Joshua heard her, but didn’t release her hand. He wasn’t through memorizing the texture of her skin or the shape of her fingers. Softly, he asked, “Do you always do what you shoul
d?”

  “I try to,” she whispered, her attention riveted on his mouth now that she’d raised her head. Instinctively, she wet her lips, knowing that she wouldn’t pull away if he kissed her. She hadn’t been kissed in such a long time.

  He dropped her hand and stepped closer until only a couple of inches of thin air separated them. “Maybe you should do what you want instead of what you should.”

  Swallowing, she asked, “What makes you think I don’t do what I want?”

  “Does anybody?”

  She lifted her chin a notch, adjusting her line of sight so she could look into his eyes. “Do you?”

  “Most of the time,” he assured her without hesitation.

  “But not all the time,” she added softly.

  “No, I don’t always do what I want. Otherwise, I would have joined you on that bed, kissed you first, and asked questions later. As it is, I’m pretty sure I made the wrong choice.”

  “You did?” Her voice sounded flimsy and breathless even to her own ears.

  “Love, I should have kissed you when I had the chance. Before I had time to think about it.”

  Victoria sucked in a small breath and couldn’t help but compare him to Richard. Her ex-husband had always called her Victoria. Even in the throes of passion, Richard managed to get all four syllables out. Hearing an endearment spoken in a husky male voice threw her off balance, tricked her into leaning a tiny fraction in his direction. Without really meaning to, she asked, “What’s stopping you now?”

  “An inconvenient sense of honor.”

  Several agonizing seconds passed as she realized he was turning her down. He had no intention of taking what she’d subtly offered, what she should have known better than to offer in the first place. Confused, she straightened, pink staining her cheeks again. “What’s honor got to do with it?”

  “Kissing you would be like shooting ducks in a barrel. Sort of like dueling with an unarmed man. Like—”