by Peggy Webb
One dark eyebrow arched over one piercing black eye. "Tsk, tsk, my darling. All that sexual repression is bad for you."
"You can take your opinions and hit the road."
For the first time since she had stepped outside she noticed the aging Mercedes parked on the side of the mountain.
"Is that your car?"
"Alas. My ever-faithful Rocinante has foundered for lack of water."
"Don Quixote?" Some of the stiff anger left her body at his whimsical humor.
He bowed from the waist and smiled up at her. "At your service, ma'am. My specialty is rescuing damsels going to family reunions."
She had to giggle at his poor imitation of a Southern drawl. "So your car stalled and you came into my office for help, huh?"
"Close enough."
"And I just automatically assumed . . . Why didn't you correct my mistake?"
"I'm on vacation and had nothing else to do. Besides, I like intrigue."
"You're vacationing here? There's nothing this far back in Beech Mountain except my compound and Anthony Salinger's summer place."
"Tony's a friend of mine. He's offered me the use of his cabin while he's in Canada fishing."
Ellen knew that at least he was telling the truth on this score. Tony had told her about his trip the last time they had spoken. Two weeks ago, if she remembered correctly. Why hadn't he also told her about this outrageous man who would be invading the mountain? Unfolding her arms, she stepped back and nodded toward the front door.
"Come inside and get Rocinante's water. Tony's cabin is just about three miles up the mountain. You should be able to make it without further mishap."
He reminded her of a storm as he pushed away from the cedar post and crossed the porch. She could feel the power of him, sense the thunder of his emotions and see the jagged lightning in his eyes.
"Ill get the water later," he said. "First this."
Before she could utter a protest, he leaned down and captured her lips. It was a light kiss, an experimental testing that was over almost before it had begun. She stood there, stunned, as he casually leaned back against another post and smiled at her. Her hands clenched into fists, and she had to restrain herself from reaching up to touch her lips. For some insane reason the kiss had made her feel lonesome. "
Why did you do that?" she asked quietly.
"Because I like you. Dr. Ellen Stanford." The smile widened. Ellen thought that when he smiled, he didn't look arrogant at all. He looked like a little boy who was looking forward to Christmas. "And because I'm practicing for tomorrow. What time do we leave?"
It took a few seconds for her to put her mind back in gear, and during that time she wondered how she had gotten into this mess in the first place. Pure cowardice, she decided. Abject fear of facing inquisitive, doting relatives who believed that at the ripe old age of twenty-nine she was tottering on the brink of spinsterhood and neglecting her duty to the Stanford bloodline.
This year, at least, she wanted to enjoy the family reunion without having to fend off dozens of questions and defend her life as a dedicated career woman. Just this one time she wanted to mingle with her kin and be like everybody else, engaged or married, and looking forward to motherhood. Next year she would find the right words to tell them that she was content to be a woman who talked to monkeys.
She sighed. Next year was a long way off, and she had never been brave in front of Aunt Lollie and Uncle Vester. Besides that she had already written that she was bringing her fiance. She looked at the man standing on her front porch, not only willing to go through with the deception, but apparently eager as well. What did she have to lose?
"We leave at eight," she said.
Chapter Two
Ellen was having second thoughts before Dirk and Rocinante had disappeared down the road. She didn't know diddly-squat about the man, and here she was planning to take him to middle Tennessee to meet her relatives. Regretting her folly, she marched back inside and called Rachelle. As she listened to the ringing of the phone she decided that she might still be able to pull out of this mess.
"Hello. Rachelle's Sport Boutique." Rachelle's voice was so cheerful, it almost made the receiver dance in Ellen's hand.
Ignoring the good cheer, Ellen got right to the point. "Why did I let you talk me into this?"
Rachelle knew immediately what she was talking about. "Because, my Cowardly Lion friend, you're afraid of displeasing that Stanford clan, and I thought it was a good way for you to meet somebody."
"Nate?" Ellen couldn't suppress her laughter.
"He was a last-ditch effort. You should have seen the two that got away. Real heartthrobs! One of them was a linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys, and the other was a ski instructor on Sugar Mountain. Hold on a sec."
The ringing of a cash register and the tinkle of the shop bell sounded over the phone. "Hi. I'm back," Rachelle said. "Somebody renting golf clubs. Why isn't Nate going? He came by the shop earlier. He looked like he had seen a creature from outer space."
"He did. Dirk What's-his-name."
"Did I miss something?"
"No. I'm just getting around to telling you. This arrogant stranger had car trouble outside the compound, and I mistook him for Nate. He didn't bother to correct me. Anyhow, to make a long story short, he told Nate about Gigi, and I told him we leave at eight."
"Wow! He must have made quite an impression!"
"He made no impression whatsoever."
"Is that why you sounded all breathless and gaga when you mentioned him!"
"Gaga? You sound like Gigi."
"And you're evading. I'll bet he was big and dark and domineering, and probably the best-looking thing since Tom Selleck."
"How did you know?"
"You admit it! Hold on while I mark this momentous occasion on my calendar. The dedicated Dr. Stanford finally notices something wearing pants!"
"I'm not that dedicated. I'm just not quite the social butterfly that you are. Anyhow, I didn't call to discuss my social life. Can you find somebody else to go with me?"
"You must think I'm rolling in men. Not that I would mind, of course. No, Ellen, I'm afraid ail the good ones are booked up for the weekend. Unless you want to face the music alone, it looks like you’ll have to take Dirk."
"A prospect worse than death."
"The man or the relatives?"
"Both."
Rachelle laughed. "Somehow you don't sound like a woman facing death. I can't wait to meet this man."
"Don't hold your breath. Dirk is just a necessary nuisance."
After her conversation with Rachelle, Ellen delved into her work, trying to put Dirk and the family reunion out of her mind. But she kept remembering little things about him—that devil- may-care smile, the penetrating power of his eyes—so that by the time she was ready for bed, he had become more than a necessary nuisance. He had become an invasion.
She walked out onto her front porch, hoping the tranquility of nature would dispel her eerie sense of having been caught off-guard. She felt like a fort with its battlements down. Not even the sound of the night birds restored the quiet peace of her Beech Mountain compound. Giving a small half- salute to the evening, she turned on her heel and marched inside to arm herself for battle.
o0o
It was the smell of coffee that woke Ellen. She pushed the tumbled covers aside and sat straight up in bed. The clock on her bedside table said 7:30. Good grief, she thought as she bounded for her robe. She was late. Fortunately, Ruth Ann was already making breakfast.
Raking her fingers through her tousled hair, she headed for the kitchen.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Dirk said, turning from the stove. He held a coffee cup in one hand and a spatula in the other. "I thought you said we leave at eight."
Ellen had intended to be angry about his highhanded invasion of her house, but when she saw the white ruffled bib apron tied high around his massive chest, she laughed. "You look ridiculous in my apron."
"I thought
it gave me a debonair sort of charm." He turned back to the stove and flipped the eggs. "How do you like your eggs? Sunny-side up?" he asked over his shoulder.
"1 never eat eggs." She walked past him to the refrigerator and tried not to notice the way he watched her. She deliberately turned her back to him as she opened the refrigerator door, but the skin on her neck prickled with the awareness of his gaze. "Who let you in and why are you in my kitchen?" she asked. Looking at the orange juice instead of him made it easier for her to sound businesslike and remote, but not much.
"I let myself in," he said.
"That seems to be a habit of yours."
"It saves time."
She kept her attention focused on the juice, but her hand shook a little as she poured it. What was there about this man, she wondered, that seemed to unnerve her?
"I hope I haven't hired a cat burglar to introduce to my relatives," she said as she set the juice back on the shelf.
He laughed. "I can be anybody you want me to be. Even a cat burglar if you like."
She felt rather foolish still standing with her back to him, but she would rather face a firing squad than turn around and look into those incredible black eyes. To save face she began to putter around in the refrigerator, rearranging the cheese and stacking the butter sticks. "Why don't you become a lawyer?" she asked. "I've already witnessed your fast-talking tactics."
"I have a lawyer friend who would take exception to that remark." The spatula clattered as he dropped it on the counter. "Are you going to join me for breakfast, or do you plan to spend the rest of the day squeezing that butter?" His arms circled her from behind as he removed the mutilated butter stick from her hands.
She felt as if a thousand firecrackers had exploded inside her as his chest pressed into her back and his hands carefully wiped away the butter that had oozed from its foil wrapper. "I can do that," she said. She tried to take the small dish towel from his hand, but she might as well have been a gnat swatting at an elephant.
"This is a part of my contract."
She wondered if he was deliberately pressing closer to her or if her imagination was working overtime. "What contract?"
"Ours. I provide the loving; you provide the lying."
She whirled in his arms and immediately wished she hadn't. She was eye level with a tiny crescent- shaped scar on his chin, and her nose was touching his neck. He smelled of honeysuckle-kissed breezes and early-morning dew and pungent pine needles. He felt as solid as her favorite lookout rock on Beech Mountain and as timeless as nature. She was almost overwhelmed as Dirk washed over her senses, and she leaned against him for a moment to pull herself together. The feeling that he was one with nature persisted, but it was not nature's tranquillity that she was feeling. It was nature's turbulence—the vital, pulsing side of it that frequently assaulted Beech Mountain with thunderbolts and jagged lightning; the awesome side of nature that often made a mockery of man's petty strivings and his puny attempts at civilization.
"Are you judging me for 'lying' to my family?" she asked when she could finally make herself speak. "If so, you can take off my apron and go back where you came from. I don't need you."
He tipped her chin up with one bronzed finger so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "I need you." He spoke with an intensity that left no doubt about his sincerity. "I need a fiancee and a family and an interlude of ordinariness, even if it's only make-believe." His fingers caressed her chin. "No, Ellen, I'm not judging you. I'm using you as much as you're using me. I think it will be a mutually satisfactory arrangement as long as there are no questions asked. I have my secrets and you can have yours."
She drew a shaky breath. "You forgot the gorilla."
Much to her relief he released her and walked to the table, taking a heaping plate of scrambled eggs with him. "How could I forget my hairy sweetheart? She's the main reason I'm going." They both knew his remark was a cover-up, but neither of them wanted to continue the dangerous direction of their conversation. Too much of the self had been revealed, and too many unexpected feelings had surfaced.
Dirk looked up from his plate. "Join me, Ellen. I hate eating alone."
"Is that why you invaded my kitchen?"
"You ask too many questions. Sit over here"—he patted the chair beside him—"so you can prepare me for this reunion." He was not being totally honest, and he knew it. He wanted her to sit beside him so that he could watch the sunlight in her hair. He wanted her there so that he could memorize the exact way her royal-blue silk robe hugged her breasts. He wanted her there for reasons he couldn't afford to admit, even to himself. Dr. Ellen Stanford was the kind of woman he could easily become involved with, and he knew he was skirting the edge of danger. But he and danger were constant companions. Just this once he was going to allow himself the luxury of feeling. He was going to take the next few days as a gift, and when the time came, he would turn and walk away.
With Dirk's presence filling the room, all of Ellen's senses were heightened. She was conscious of the sunlight's warmth coming through the window, of the sensuous feel of her silk robe, of the mingled smells of coffee and eggs. Telling herself it was her natural scientific powers of observation and had nothing in the world to do with the man sitting at her table, she joined Dirk and gave him a capsule history of her Stanford relatives.
"The Stanfords are mostly farmers," she said, "most of them still in middle Tennessee. They are firm believers in motherhood and apple pie and the flag, so if you have any liberal views, I'd suggest you keep them to yourself."
Dirk grinned. "You've hit the jackpot. I'm a diehard conservative. Of course, I prefer cherry pie, but I won't tell a soul."
She liked his sense of humor. If he'd just keep his distance, perhaps this trip wouldn't be so hard after all, Ellen told herself.
"We'll be staying with Uncle Vester and Aunt Lollie." Noticing the way he was waggling his eyebrows at her, she hastened to add, "Separate bedrooms, of course. Remember you're in the Bible Belt, where hanky-panky is not taken lightly."
"I didn't plan to, ma'am. I'm serious about my lovin'."
She had to giggle at his ridiculous drawl. "If you're planning to pass for Southern, forget it. The Stanfords would spot that fake drawl a mile away."
"Aw, gee whiz 'n' shucks, ma'am." His corny imitation of disappointment made her laugh even harder. "I don't want to be a Yankee lawyer. They might mistake me for a carpetbagger and shoot me."
Into all this merriment came Ruth Ann and Gigi. Seeing the man of her dreams, Gigi wasted no time in shuffling across the kitchen and giving Dirk a gorilla kiss. Then she proceeded to hover over him and inspect his hair.
Dirk gave Ellen a lopsided grin. "What did I do to deserve all this?"
"You're the one who wanted to play the game."
Ruth Ann's eyebrows shot up into her Mamie Eisenhower bangs at the look that passed between Ellen and the fake fiance.
"Gigi and I are all set," she said. "If you and your fiance are ready, I think we should be going."
The way she said fiance with her narrow nose pinched and her tight little mouth pursed left no doubt how she felt about the deception. Ruth Ann was a dedicated scientist from the top of her gray hair to the tips of her sensible shoes. She lived by the credo All work never hurt anybody, and if it hadn't been for Ellen, the feisty little woman—who was more vinegar than sugar— would have worked round the clock.
Ellen put her arm around the slightly stooped shoulders. "Slow down, Ruth Ann. We're not going to a fire. This is supposed to be a leisurely family visit."
"Humph. No sense letting grass grow under our feet." She shot Dirk another withering look. "Gigi's already asked a dozen times when she’ll see her brothers and sisters."
His eyebrows shot up. "Her brothers and sisters?"
"Uncle Mac's children," Ellen explained. "She adores them. She understands the concept of family and since I'm the only mother she has ever known, she calls my relatives her brothers and sisters." She turned to Ruth Ann
. "If you can get Gigi interested in something besides Dirk's hair, he can load the car while I change."
o0o
The gorilla had to be bribed to give up her careful inspection of Dirk's hair, and twenty minutes later the strange group was assembled beside Ellen's vintage Buick, discussing seating arrangements. "Ruth Ann and Gigi will ride in back," Ellen said, "and Dirk can sit up front with me."
Gigi took exception to that arrangement, and when Dirk slid into the front seat, she abandoned all her sophisticated language training in favor of a primitive temper tantrum. Her gorilla ravings sent a frightened rabbit back to his burrow and startled a quail from the underbrush.
Dirk shrugged and climbed into the backseat. "What can I say? I'm devastatingly charming."
Gigi climbed happily in beside him, and the travelers started their journey to middle Tennessee.
o0o
"I knew he'd be trouble," Ruth Ann mumbled to Ellen over the roar of the steadfast old Buick engine.
"Everything's going to be all right, Ruth Ann," Ellen assured her. "Besides, Gigi's old enough for a little harmless flirtation."
Ruth Ann crossed her arms on her chest and gazed out the window at the blue morning mists still clinging to Beech Mountain. "It's not Gigi I'm worried about."
Ellen decided to ignore that remark. She was determined that nothing would spoil this trip. Not Ruth Ann's negative attitude, not Gigi's crazy infatuation, not even Dirk's disturbing presence. She was going to enjoy this family reunion, even if the effort killed her.
Each year the journey home was at once a pleasure and a pain—the joy of rediscovering her roots and the sadness of seeing time's ravages on her past. The childhood haunts seemed to shrink with each successive pilgrimage, and remembered heroes took on the smudged tinge of reality.