With No Reservations

by Joan Bramsch

  He groaned when she responded to his kiss, joining him in the dancing duel. Her hand tugged his shirttail from his shorts and crept inside. She traced his spine, each vertebra, every straining muscle, counting the ripples of his lower ribs.

  Her hand slipped beneath his arm and wandered through the soft curls on his chest, and he sucked in his breath, tightening his hold on her. When her fingers grazed across his hard nipples, she discovered how much her touch could affect his breathing. He shuddered in her arms, his own hand gliding roughly down her back to massage and knead her derriere.

  His touch was sure, Ann thought, and heavenly. Heavenly and right. Sighing, she snuggled against him, prepared to stay for a while. But the kiss ended abruptly when they both heard the crackle of broken twigs some distance behind them. They pulled away from each other and turned toward the sound. Their heavy breathing almost drowned out the steadily approaching footfalls in the woods.

  "I thought you said no one knew about this place,” Jeffrey said.

  "No one does, except Ezra."

  "The hermit?"

  "Yes.” She scrambled to her feet, and had to grab on to Jeffrey's shoulder when her legs at first refused to support her. “He's come by to say hello a time or two."

  Just then a bearded man dressed in well-worn jeans and a black T-shirt emblazoned with WOODSTOCK stepped out of the shadows at the edge of the woods. His dark eyes were barely visible beneath the wide brim of his battered bead-banded straw hat. He didn't move but only stood there, watching, waiting.

  "Hello, Ezra,” Ann called, waving cheerfully.

  ” ‘Lo, Annie,” he said, touching the front of his hat but never taking his eyes off Jeffrey. “You all right?"

  She laughed nervously and glanced at Jeffrey. He was staring back at Ezra, his body tense.

  "I'm fine, Ezra. And you?"

  "Fine. Who's the stranger?"

  "A friend, Ezra."

  "You sure?"

  What was going on here? she wondered distractedly. Both men were acting strangely. Sniffing the air, glaring at each other, as if they were getting ready to fight. Over her? Good Lord, they were prepared to do battle in order to protect her, she realized, and she knew she had to put a stop to it at once.

  "Sure, I'm sure. Let me introduce you.” She took Jeffrey's hand and led him over to Ezra. “Jeffrey meet Ezra, my friend and landlord. Ezra meet Jeffrey, a friend from Mountainview, Utah."

  She watched, fascinated, while the two men sized up each other, then sighed with relief when Ezra finally stuck out his large hand, and they shook hands.

  "Live in the mountains, do ya?” Ezra asked.

  "Yup..

  "Hunt?"

  "Only for food."

  "Trap?"

  "I'd rather not, but I know how."

  "Track?"

  "I learned from one of the best."

  "What ya doin’ out here?"

  "Can't breathe in the city."

  "Me neither.” Ezra nodded once, then turned toward Ann. “Ya got yourself a good man here, Annie."

  "Yeah?” She watched Jeffrey draw in a deep breath as if he were particularly proud that he'd passed muster with Ezra. Men! she thought, grinning. They had such strange rites. “How can you tell, Ezra?"

  "I trust him. He doesn't talk much, and hell die if he doesn't stay near the land."

  "Well, thanks for your opinion, Ezra. Would you like to stay and eat with us?"

  Shifting his gaze back to Jeffrey, Ezra touched his hat brim again and grinned quickly. “Thanks just the same, Ann, but you best eat your full ration today.” He locked eyes with Jeffrey for another instant, then winked. “I've got a notion you're gonna need all your strength to handle this here mountain man."

  "Wanna bet?"

  "I never bet on sure-things, Annie."

  "Well,” she said, determined to have the last word, “at least he's not my mountain man."

  Ezra took one more look at Jeffrey, then cocked his head to the side when Jeffrey's mouth lifted in a confident grin. “Wanna bet?"

  He was gone before Ann could fire a comeback.

  "That man's been out in the woods too long,” she complained, flabbergasted that he'd disappeared so quickly.

  "No, he hasn't,” Jeffrey said, leading her back to the blanket. They sat down again. “He knows what's important, that's all."

  "How did you learn all that stuff you two were talking about?” she asked, not moving when he began to brush her hair again. “Did you really learn to track from one of the best?"

  "Sure did. My teacher was Thadius Gatberry, one of the last mountain men in Utah.” He paused, momentarily distracted by the way the sunbeams wove golden threads through Ann's hair. “Thadius taught me the ways of the mountains, testing me, pushing me hard, so I'd keep breaking through to greater levels of endurance."

  He sighed and looked off in the distance, remembering. “It was his training that saved my life during more than one dangerous adventure. I learned to trust my instincts, to live off the land, and to track. He said I was a natural."

  Jeffrey idly stroked Ann's silken locks, reliving the two long days and nights of searching in the mountains before he'd flown to Missouri. “Time and time again, the skills Thadius taught me have saved other people's lives as well."

  Ann turned to look at him. “The little boy that was lost?"

  He nodded. “Yes."

  "It was a shame you had to travel again before you could rest.” Would he explain to her that important appointment he'd mentioned before? she wondered. Would he tell her anything she'd feel compelled to report to her boss? Damn, she hated this. She felt torn between her duty to Vanessa and her attraction to this man. Upset with herself because she couldn't make up her mind, she answered her own question.

  "I guess you were able to sleep on the plane, though."

  He chuckled as if at a private joke. “I could have slept, but it would have been a little tricky,” he said.

  He urged her to turn back around and tried his hand at braiding. “You see, I pilot my own plane."

  She swiveled around and shook her head slowly. “Is there anything you can't do, Jeffrey Madison?"

  "Yeah, I can't get you to sit still."

  She turned her back to him and sat like a statue. Eventually she ruined her little act with a giggle.

  "Share the humor?” Jeffrey asked.

  "I was just thinking how closely connected your hobby is with your job."

  He was instantly alert. “What do you mean?"

  "Well, you hunt and track for fun and in serving the public, and you make your living by tracking down executives for jobs.” She glanced over her shoulder and bit down on her lower lip to control her smile. “Or do you hunt jobs for executives?"

  "Whatever,” Jeffrey replied, concentrating on her braid and refusing to think what she'd have to say about his hobby if she knew about his real profession. The connection would give any psychologist fodder for a full year's analysis!

  "You ought to write Thadius a thank-you letter,” she said, “let him know you're a great success."

  "I wish I could ... but he's dead."

  In one fluid motion she spun around and held his hands against her cheeks. “Oh, Jeff, I'm truly sorry. I didn't know. I wouldn't have made such a flip suggestion if I had."

  "I know that,” he said, bending to kiss her lips.

  "Were you with him at the end?"

  He nodded, then gazed off into the distance again. “When Thadius died, many people thought he was at least a hundred years old. He surely was a man of great wisdom and vast experience. I honored his last request and buried him beneath a lone pine just below the timberline on Murphy's Ridge.” He paused, swallowing, and cleared his throat. “His grave is near the one-room log cabin he built and lived in for most of his life. It's mine now."

  "Do you go there often?"

  "Every chance I get. I go there for the solitude. I only live a few miles away, right on top of one of those grand mountains."


  "It sounds as though you really love your home,” she said.

  He turned to meet her gaze. His answer was in his eyes even before he spoke. “Yes, Annie, I love the mountains. I don't ever want to live anywhere else. If a guy is lucky, he finds where he belongs early in life. He searches and searches and finally finds the one spot on earth where he's happy, content, able to commune with God and His creatures. I was one of the lucky ones. I know where I belong. In Mountainview."

  "I went to the mountains once."

  "Yeah? Which ones?"

  "The Great Smoky Mountains. They really are great, you know."

  "Mine are prettier by far. I'd like you to see them sometime. I bet you'd love them too."

  She smiled. “I probably would. Love them, I mean. But only for a little while. Then I'd have to return to my real world."

  "Don't tell me. Let me guess.” He frowned and put his fingertips to his temples. “Your world is the hotel business."

  "Bingo! Give the man a teddy bear."

  "You're really serious, aren't you? Don't you ever want a husband, a family?"

  "Sure,” she said, smiling at the thought. “But today a woman has the opportunity to do it all. Anyway, there's plenty of time for that. Right now I'm perfectly happy doing my job."

  He played with a strand of her hair. “What if the man you love wants to, no, needs to live somewhere else ... like on top of a mountain, for example? Could you change your mind?"

  "It would depend."

  "On what?"

  Ann didn't like being pinned down, and this discussion had gone way off base as far as she was concerned. Jeffrey Madison might be the most attractive and compelling man she'd ever met, but she had known him only less than a week. “I don't know. I guess it would depend on how he and I could compromise. You know, work out a plan."

  "In other words, you'd consider leaving the hotel business?"

  She sat up straight. “Those aren't the words I would use."

  "Well?"

  "I want to stay in the hotel business. But my decision to stay at the River Regency for the rest of my natural life is not cast in stone. Now, is that a satisfactory answer to your question?"

  "Yes, ma'am. You've answered just fine.” He winked and grinned. “I like you, Annie Waverly."

  She matched his grin, then laughed. “And I like you, Jeffie Madison."

  "Damn, I wish old Thadius could have met you. He'd have given you a bear hug, I swear. And Thadius Gatberry was not a demonstrative man."

  "But he must have been a wonderful man. After all, you loved him."

  "Yes, I did. He honored friendship. Like Ezra does with you. That's why he reminded me of Thadius."

  "He did?"

  "Sure. Like Thadius, Ezra apparently believes man should live in the wild, eat off the land, make no trouble, but back down from no one."

  He glanced at Ann, who had absentmindedly taken over the plaiting of her hair into a single long braid, and smiled. “Most important, a man must guard his woman against predators, especially the two-legged kind."

  "Are you serious?"

  "That's mountain law."

  "Was that what you two were doing before I introduced you properly?"

  "Yup...

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please! Deliver me from men of few words."

  He smiled charmingly and tipped an imaginary hat. “In the West, actions speak louder than words, ma'am."

  "Wait! Don't tell me.” She tapped her chin with an index finger. “Ah ... Gary Cooper,” she said, pointing at him. “Right?"

  "Nope."

  "John Wayne?"

  "Not even close."

  She snapped her fingers. “I've got it. Cesar Romero."

  He grimaced and shook his head. “Come on, wise guy. Let's go swimming."

  After their swim, Ann felt refreshed. She dried off with her thick navy beach towel and passed it to Jeffrey. Then she strode back to the car and hoisted the picnic basket from the trunk. Jeffrey smoothed the blanket, then kicked off his sloshing tennis shoes and lay down on his side, propping his head on his arm as he watched Ann walk back through the meadow to him, carrying the basket. Just like little Red Riding Hood, he thought. And he was the big bad wolf. He liked the analogy, though he was certain he much preferred Ann's red bikini over a red hooded cloak.

  He was so preoccupied with his thorough examination and appreciation of Ann's shapely figure, he didn't realize she was practicing a little man-watching herself. And Jeffrey was worth every bit of her attention, she decided. In his rather brief swim suit he was magnificent!

  "I've a basket filled with wonderful delights,” she said as she neared the blanket.

  "I doubt anything in that basket could be more wonderfully delightful than you,” he said. “Annie?"

  She set the basket down and knelt beside him on the blanket. “Yes?"

  "I like you. Very much."

  Her smile was shy, but she was obviously pleased. “I guess that makes us even,” she said. She began to unload the basket, exclaiming as she uncovered each special dish Karl had prepared.

  After eating their fill, Ann and Jeffrey lay side by side on their backs, watching fleecy clouds glide across the sky. They held hands but otherwise did not touch.

  "Do you believe that feast?” Jeffrey said, sighing. “Croissants and veal, green grapes and Brie. Champagne."

  "We won't discuss the fresh oysters and caviar,” added Ann, laughing. “Price is no object when it comes’ to Karl's taste buds."

  Jeffrey rolled onto his side. He traced her profile with one long finger. “You've got to admit, his dessert choice of dark and light Swiss chocolate brandy balls was inspired."

  "Nothing of the kind,” she said, trying not to look cross-eyed at his finger. “Karl just happens to know I'm a card-carrying chocoholic."

  "Is that a fact?” Jeffrey murmured, preoccupied.

  "Certifiable,” she said, and grabbed his hand when he began to draw a line down the center of her body as well.

  "Spoilsport,” he whispered, rolling away from her but allowing her to keep hold of his hand.

  She stroked the rough red scrapes on his knuckles, then clucked when she traced the spot where a fierce blister had formed and healed. “Did this all happen during the search?” she asked.

  "Yes, I left so fast I forgot my heavier gloves. The pair I had came apart in no time. Tracking can be a very rough business."

  "I'll tell you a secret.” She smiled when he immediately moved back to her side and propped himself up so he could look into her eyes. “When I met you that first night, I thought you were so big and so strong. I figured you probably fought bears or wrestled mountain lions."

  He chuckled. “I'm glad you think I'm big and strong; but I promise you I've never wrestled a mountain lion in my life. I'm not that brave."

  She gazed into his sky-blue eyes, trying to tell him without words how proud she was of him. Realizing he would never understand her unspoken message, she brought his hand to her mouth and kissed the scars, the broken blisters, the half-healed cuts, mothering him.

  "No,” she murmured. She kissed each of his callused fingertips as she spoke. “You're not brave enough to battle wild animals with your bare hands. You're only brave enough to risk your life to rescue a frightened little boy off a treacherous mountain."

  When he did not speak but just returned her gaze, she sat up and branded his palm with one more kiss. He reached for her, but she slipped away and scampered to the end of the blanket. “And now, my brave, brave man,” she said, grabbing his left foot, “we need to discuss this other scar."

  "Annie, I'm tickled to death that I'm your anything, but honey, I've got to warn you..."

  She lifted her head and looked into his serious eyes.

  "If you touch the bottom of my foot, I'll break your pretty little neck."

  She began to giggle. “Did I just hear a Freudian slip of the lip, Jeffrey?” She laughed outright when she saw his look of panic.

  "I get vi
olent,” he warned.

  "You're ticklish!"

  "Dammit, Annie, I can't control my reaction when someone touches the bottom of my feet."

  She leaned down to peer closely at the crescent shaped scar. Jeffrey wiggled his toes nervously, and when he tried to pull free, she held on tight.

  "Ann, don't!"

  "I won't ... if you tell me how you got it."

  "It's too damn embarrassing. I was just a little hotshot kid when it happened."

  "I love little hotshot kid stories. Come on, Jeff. Let's hear it."

  When he shook his head adamantly, she lifted one finger and began to make threatening circles above the white scar. Breathing harshly and making growling sounds, he tried to steel himself against her attack. His antics gave Ann a fit of giggles, which was her undoing. Lightning swift, he jerked his foot from her grasp, then spun around and threw himself on top of her, effectively turning the tables.

  Ann blinked up at him, wondering how she had gotten there. It had all happened so quickly. He had her trapped and was savoring the moment. Grinning fiendishly, he held her hands above her head and began to kiss her. He explored her face, then investigated her neck and shoulders.

  "And now, my lovely one,” he said, still breathing heavily, but for another reason now, “since you've found my literal Achilles heel, I intend to find your figurative one.” She stared up at him defiantly. “You may as well tell me. It's only a matter of time before I find it."

  "I'll tell you if you tell me how you got that scar,” she bartered.

  He tipped his head to one side as if in deep contemplation. “Naw,” he finally said, grinning. “It'll be more fun to find it myself.” When she didn't move a muscle, no matter how he prodded her ribs, he deduced the spot must be below the waist. “Where is it?” he asked. “The hips? Your knees?"

  She couldn't control the involuntary jerk When he said the word aloud.

  "Your knees,” he crowed.

  "Yes,” she screamed. “Yes, yes, yes. Now tell me how you got that scar."

  "Okay,” he relented. “I was ten years old and had just finished a marvelous book about an Indian fakir who walked on broken glass."