by Peggy Webb
"Come from a long line of Caldwells, do you, son?" Uncle Vester asked. "Well, I like that in a man. Carrying the family name and all. Ellen's been stuck off on that mountain for years now. . ."
"Ves-ter . . ." Aunt Lollie warned.
Uncle Vester took Dirk's arm and bustled down the steps to get the bags. "Show Ellen to the guest room, Lollie. We'll have a little talk while we unload the car." He winked at Dirk. "Man talk."
Before she went into the house with her aunt, Ellen took one last look to see how Dirk was handling this massive dose of family. She need not have worried. He and Uncle Vester were laughing together like two old cronies. He looked up from the car trunk and signaled okay. His smile was so mischievous, she decided that perhaps she should be worrying for herself. There was no telling what sort of fantasies Dirk was spinning for Uncle Vester.
The screen door popped behind them as she followed Aunt Lollie into the house. Air conditioning was considered a modern foolishness by her relatives. The ceiling fans—their one concession to comfort—did little to cool the humid air. By the time Ellen reached the top of the stairs, her dress was clinging damply to her skin.
"Well, here we are." Aunt Lollie flung open the door to a large bedroom. A massive armoire dominated one corner of the room, a four-poster bed the other.
Ellen sat on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down like a child. "You still have feather mattresses! I'm so glad."
Memories of days gone by flooded her mind. She could almost hear winter winds outside the window and smell the popcorn. She could almost feel the sweaty-sticky bodies of her cousins as they cuddled together in the featherbed, perspiring from the mountain of quilts Aunt Lollie had piled on top of them to keep them warm.
"Will Emmaline and Carol be coming?" she asked.
Tears sprang to Aunt Lollies eyes as she thought of her two daughters. "Carol and her husband are off in Spain. Lord only knows when they'll get back. They gallivant all the time. Emmaline and her husband will take the other upstairs bedroom. I’ll put little Eddie on the den sofa."
Ellen ticked off the rooms on her fingers as Aunt Lollie talked. If she was remembering correctly, every available sleeping space had been accounted for.
"Do you still have Carol's sleeping bag? Dirk can use that."
Aunt Lollie tiptoed to the bedroom door and peered down the hall. Then, giving Ellen a conspiratorial smile, she shut the door and tiptoed back across the room.
"I wanted to surprise you," she whispered. "Vester and I still remember what it was like to be young and in love. You might say that we're modern in matters like these."
Ellen's heart sank right down to her toes as she realized what Aunt Lollie was saying. "I'm sure Dirk won't mind a sleeping bag for this short stay," she said, almost desperately.
Aunt Lollie dismissed that foolish notion with a wave of her hands. "Nonsense, Ellen. What would dear departed Evelyn say if she knew I'd made her daughter's fiance sleep on the floor? Besides that, you're not all that young anymore. It would please me and Vester no end to know that your first child had been conceived right here in Lawrence County. Right here on this featherbed."
She patted the bed for emphasis. A soft feather worked loose from the old mattress and floated to the floor.
Ellen looked down at the feather and back at Aunt Lollie. What could she say? she wondered. That Dirk was not her fiance and that she didn't even plan to sleep with him, let alone conceive anything with him?
Of course not. She had made her bed, as the old saying went, and now she was going to have to lie in it. She gave Aunt Lollie a brave smile. Lie was certainly an appropriate word for what she was about to do.
"I knew I could count on you to think of every thing. Aunt Lollie. I just can't tell you what this means to me!"
She certainly couldn't, she said to herself. It meant sleepless nights and a foolish, runaway heart. It meant pretending to appear nonchalant and trying not to look when he pulled off his shirt. It meant sorely regretting this charade and wishing that she had never heard of Dirk. It meant hoping she would not invite him onto that featherbed to embark upon an affair that she knew would be more than casual, an affair that would threaten her carefully planned future and jeopardize her heart.
Aunt Lollie clapped her hands in delight. "We both just knew you'd be tickled pink. Now, you two freshen up"—she paused to wink broadly—"and I’ll go downstairs to see about supper."
A loud clatter outside the door announced the arrival of the men with the bags. The two old conspirators wasted no time in leaving Ellen and Dirk to themselves. Winking at each other and exchanging significant grins, they made their departure.
Ellen waited until she could no longer hear their footsteps in the hallway.
"They're about as subtle as a freight train," she said.
Her damp dress clung to her legs as she paced the room. She waved her arms around for emphasis as she talked, and she was altogether a different woman from the ever- cool, always-in-charge Dr. Ellen Stanford, who did primate language research on Beech Mountain.
"What in the world are we going to do about this mess?" she added.
Dirk began to unbutton his shirt. "I don't know what you're going to do, but I'm going to take a bath. It's hotter than the Equator around here."
"Take a bath!"
"That's right, my darling." He removed his damp shirt and hung it over the back of a chair. "Care to join me?"
She wanted to tear his outrageous grin from his face. If the sight of that magnificent chest hadn't stopped her, she probably would have.
"Stop calling me that, and don't you dare pull off your pants! You've got to help me think of a way out of this mess."
As he strolled across the room Ellen spotted a jagged scar on his back. It started high on his shoulder and angled downward. She sucked in a sharp breath, and for an instant she forgot the matter at hand.
Dirk chose that moment to turn around. He saw the look on her face, the questions in her eyes, and he knew it was the scar. Damn. Short of explaining the scar, which he could not do, the only way to make her forget was to make her mad. He grinned as he reached for his belt buckle and began unfastening it.
"I think the arrangements here are great." He pushed open the bathroom door and finished goading her over the sound of running water. "Don't worry, darling," he called. "I thanked Uncle Vester properly."
His ploy worked.
"You knew before you came upstairs? That's why you were grinning like a cat eating persimmons."
She marched into the bathroom, intent on making it perfectly clear what she thought of the arrangements.
Dirk was standing beside the tub in his shorts. "Did you decide to join me, my darling?"
She threw a bar of soap at him. He ducked and it landed with a plop in the water. Dr. Ellen Stanford propped her hands on her hips and glared at the outrageous man.
"My aunt and uncle may be a couple of old romantics, but I'm not. I'm completely uninterested in anything except my career. Your being here is a result of temporary insanity on my part, so don't be getting any ideas."
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and grinned at her. "I'm not. Are you?"
She whirled and left the bathroom. Putting her hands to her hot face, she stood in the middle of the bedroom in a moment of indecision. In a burst of guilty hindsight she realized she had reacted like a blushing teenager instead of a worldly-wise adult. He must think she was out here panting for that mouth-watering body. Well, she'd show him that he was nothing more than a business arrangement.
Thrusting out her chin, she marched back into the bathroom. Droplets of water dotted the black hairs on his chest and arms and glistened on his bronzed skin. For a moment she forgot why she had come. When her tongue finally unglued itself from the roof of her dry mouth, she spoke.
"This is my charade, Dirk, and we'll do it my way. If you get out of line just once. I’ll let Gigi have you." Satisfied that she was again in charge, she started to the bath
room door. Then she added, "Well take turns using the bed. Tonight's my night."
She was limp with relief when she reentered the bedroom. "You forgot to scrub my back," he called through the open door.
She replied by slamming the door shut so hard, it vibrated on its hinges.
o0o
Ellen considered it a small miracle that they made it down the stairs to supper before she killed him. Not only had he shown no modesty in getting dressed, but he had acted as if he enjoyed the whole thing.
Her own bath had been a nightmare. He had tootled in and out of the bathroom, whistling and retrieving first his shaving kit and then his shaving cream, remarking that she was better- looking than any roommate he ever had in the Army, but that personally he preferred women with bigger breasts.
She was breathless and flushed when they entered the formal dining room. Seeing her, Aunt Lollie stopped tossing the salad and beamed.
"My, my," she said. "There's nothing like a cozy afternoon to put color into a girl's cheeks."
Dirk wrapped his arm around Ellen and kissed her on the nape of the neck. "That's just what I told my darling before we left the bathtub."
Ellen jabbed his ribs. "I napped while he bathed. Just couldn't hold my eyes open after that long drive."
"Well, boy," Uncle Vester said, "sit down and tell us about yourself."
"I'm just dying to know how you two met," Aunt Lollie added.
"It was at a concert," Ellen said.
"It was at a football game," Dirk said at the same time.
"Well, which was it?" Uncle Vester asked.
Ellen smiled at him over the vegetable soup. "To tell you the truth I was so stunned the first time I met him, I don't remember what we were doing."
"But you remember later, don't you, darling?" Dirk asked. "The moonlight, the wine, the hayloft."
He knew she was equal to the occasion, otherwise he would have found another way to protect himself. That moment on the porch had been an epiphany for him, and he had known then that the only way to survive this family reunion and walk away unscathed afterward was to submerge his feelings. He'd play the role of devil-may-care adventurer—along for the ride and any pleasure he could get from her.
She swallowed the soup and glared at him. Reminding herself that she had wanted this charade and that it was all for a good cause, she plunged full speed ahead.
"That must have been that wretched Waylings girl, Dirk." She tried a pout and hoped she didn't look like she had stuffed her mouth with cotton. "You never took me to the hayloft."
"An oversight I shall try to remedy, my dear." He lifted his glass of iced tea in salute to her.
"You can use mine," Uncle Vester offered.
Aunt Lollie, who could talk about making babies and cozy afternoons in public, but who thought real nitty-gritty sex should be discussed in whispers, kicked her husband under the table.
"You've had other girlfriends, Dirk?" Her tone was mildly disapproving. For her, real romance meant having a one-and-only.
"Never looked at another woman after I met Ellen, Aunt Lollie," he said. "The poor little ol' Waylings girl was jus' a friend. " He leaned over and pinched Ellen's cheek. "You know how jealous women in love can be."
Ellen rolled her eyes at his choice of Southern phrasing. She pinched him back and whispered in his ear, "Your drawl stinks."
Uncle Vester and Aunt Lollie could spot a Yankee a mile away. The ridiculous attempt didn't fool them. Now that they had determined he was virile enough to help Ellen carry on the Stanford bloodline, they wanted to know his background. After all, he was staying at their house. If he had anything to be ashamed of, they'd want to know before the big dinner so they could collaborate on the proper story to tell the rest of the clan.
"What part of the country are you from?" Aunt Lollie asked. She hoped it was somewhere glamorous like New York, but Pennsylvania would do.
"Connecticut," Dirk said. It was partially true, he told himself. It was one of the many places he was from.
Connecticut didn't sound like much to Aunt Lollie, but she guessed she could glamorize it by telling Fronie it had whales.
"I don't suppose you work in one of those places with whales, do you?" she asked.
Seeing that Aunt Lollie was enamored of whales. Dirk said, "Whale sighting is a hobby of mine."
"He's a lawyer, Aunt Lollie," Ellen said. Her conscience hurt her only a little. After all, she was making them happy. She tried not to think ahead to the time when she would have to undo her fiance.
"A fancy criminal lawyer, I'll bet," Uncle Vester said.
He was so excited he slurped his soup. He didn't give a damn about whales. Money was what interested him. It would be wonderful if his brother Mike's only daughter had snagged herself a rich husband after waiting until she was almost an old maid before she got married.
Dirk cheerfully supplied information for Uncle Vester's fantasy. "I don't like to brag, but I'm the best in the country at what I do. I've come up against some of world's biggest crime figures."
Uncle Vester pounded his fork on the table with glee. "Whipped them all, did you, boy? Put 'em right where they belong."
"You'd have been proud of the job I did on them." Dirk knew that the truth can sometimes be disguised as fiction, and he salved his conscience by telling himself that he was making two old people happy.
By the time they got to the roast beef, Uncle Vester and Aunt Lollie were suggesting that Dirk might someday run for President, what with his background in criminal law and whales, and Ellen had decided that if Dirk weren't such an arrogant bastard, he would be the most decent man she knew.
As they walked up the stairs to their bedroom she put her hand on his arm and looked up at him. "Thank you."
He gazed at her beautiful face and thought of the four-poster bed and the long night ahead. "Don't thank me yet."
Chapter Four
Ellen began arranging their separate beds the minute she walked through the bedroom door. Her shoes tapped smartly against the polished wooden floor as she walked to the closet and began taking down quilts.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Dirk was standing in front of the window, apparently intent on gazing at the moonlit pasture behind the farmhouse. Who was he, she wondered, this enigmatic man who was outrageous and arrogant one minute and thoughtful the next?
She flipped a quilt in the air and spread it on the floor. It was more than scientific curiosity that motivated her. It was more than the remembered feel of his hand on her leg. She was fascinated by Dirk the same way she was fascinated by the unrestrained violence of nature. And she could no more explain that than she could fly to the moon. She only knew that from the time she was a child, she had taken every opportunity to stand at the window and watch a thunderstorm. No hiding her face under the covers for Ellen Stanford. No covering her ears and shrieking in fear. She had reveled in the raw power of nature just as she was beginning to revel in the raw power of the black-eyed stranger who was to share her room.
She added two more quilts to the floor, trying to make his pallet as comfortable as possible. "So you're from Connecticut?" she said. She tried to make the question sound casual, small talk to fill the time.
"Sometimes." He didn't turn from the window. He seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts.
"What about other times?" She covered her interest by retrieving a feather pillow from the closet shelf and placing it on the pallet.
"Here and there."
Strike a big fat zero for place. She decided to try occupation.
"You played the part of a criminal lawyer quite convincingly, I thought. Is that really your profession?"
He turned from the window and gave her a slow, lazy smile. She shivered as if she had suddenly caught the attention of a big black panther.
"Gathering scientific data, Dr. Stanford?"
She would have walked over hot coals before admitting that her interest was personal. "You could call it that. I'm trying to see i
f I can use you as an income-tax deduction. Research or legal advice."
"How about hanky-panky?" He crossed the room with long, swift strides and took her into his arms. "I believe that's what you're paying me for." His embrace tightened and he bent his head to nuzzle her neck.
She tried to squirm away, but not because she didn't like his touch. No, indeed. The problem was that she liked it too much. She liked the feel of his hot breath on her skin. She loved the way parts of her seemed to melt and flow into his body. She loved the hardness of him, the rocklike strength.
She liked it so much that a certain gorilla named Gigi was completely wiped from her mind. Years of meticulous research dwindled to nothing in the overpowering presence of this mysterious man. There was no room in Ellen's life for a man like that, a man who edged her work out of first place.
"Don't waste your performances on me," she said. "Save them for my relatives."
"This is no performance."
He took her lips with embarrassing ease, moving ever so slowly, teasing, probing until he had elicited the proper response. She felt as if jagged lightning was suddenly coursing through her body. Her arms wrapped involuntarily around his neck, and she pressed close to his muscled strength as her lips invited him to further exploration.
There was a groan, a combined sound of agony and ecstasy, and neither of them knew who had made it. They were too enraptured by the thrust of tongue against tongue, the straining of flesh against flesh, the exchange of thunderbolt sensations.
A dozen thoughts hovered around the edge of Ellen's mind, seeking admittance, but she refused to allow them in. She knew that she was flirting with danger, but for the moment she was going to enjoy the excitement that only Dirk could give her. She was going to allow herself this forbidden pleasure, and then she would pull away and get on with the business of real life.
But she never got that chance. Dirk was the first to pull away. As she felt the ecstasy leave her lips, she opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of his face. It was twisted in lines of torment as if he were wrestling with demons more fierce than hers. He raked his hand through his hair, and strode quickly away from her. Was work his demon too?