Swatting aside the mosquitoes that pestered him, he executed fifty push-ups in the grass while the maddening insects buzzed in hunger around him.
Frustrated by the mosquitoes he completed the rest of his push-ups indoors and followed them with sit-ups, of which he counted a hundred.
He did his lunges barefoot, in the kitchen, along with his squats.
Once he was finished, he had a glass of cold water from the jug in the fridge and decided to get on with breakfast.
Rummaging through the cupboards, he found an electric coffee pot and a sealed pound of Maxwell House coffee.
Glad that he would not be without his morning coffee, he brewed a pot and checked through the fridge and remaining cupboards for anything that might resemble breakfast.
There were ingredients enough to make pancakes from scratch, his dear Aunt Bernie’s recipe and so he did, making enough for himself and his reluctant assignment.
As he stirred the pancake batter he wondered how long Miranda would sleep. If his past observations were anything to go by, she was almost never up before eight.
He wondered, also, if she would have much of an appetite.
Upon hearing the DVD and Richard’s comments regarding her, she had thrown up in the bathroom with a great amount of noise.
Would she have the stomach this morning for a batch of Aunt Bernie’s incredible hotcakes? He supposed that time would tell...
It’d be an awful waste of Aunt Bernie’s genius, if she didn’t.
Sipping the coffee, he located the frying pan, a pancake-flipper and a serving plate and set to cooking the hotcakes. There was an unopened bottle of corn syrup in the fridge, left there by Russ the previous hunting season and so he set it on the dining room table along with plates and cutlery enough for two.
Miranda surprised him by groggily stalking down the stairs, just after eight o’clock, rubbing at her eyes as she neared.
“What time is it?” She asked, yawning.
“Ten after eight.” He replied, very conscious of the long, slender and feminine body beneath the green silk robe.
The robe barely came to her knees and what lovely knees they were.
Her arms were crossed over her chest, hugging herself but he could see her nipples, pert and beckoning, embossing the thin material.
He forced himself to look up into her curious green eyes and said, “You’re up early.”
“You would know,” she guessed, “Since you’ve been following me around and all. Pancakes?”
She was clearly surprised to see them.
“I already ate. What’s left of them is yours.”
She surprised him with a yawned, “Thank you,” before stalking off to the bathroom.
He was glad to see that she harbored no obvious hard feelings toward him.
Either she had forgiven him for being her bodyguard and the spy who had been following her around for three months or the anger in her was still asleep and thereby dormant.
She seemed friendly enough though, as she emerged from the bathroom, taking her place at the table.
“Can I get you something to drink?” He asked, watching her tuck the robe demurely around her bottom, that it would not part and reveal herself to him.
“Sure. Milk, I guess.” She yawned again as he sought a glass from the cupboard for her. “What a night.”
“Feeling better?” He asked, as he poured.
“I don’t hate you anymore, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Miranda said, with an impish grin.
She never had hated him, despite her angry words the night before.
He was hard to hate, even the dominant side of him was sweet in an Incredible Hulk sort of way.
“Glad to hear it.” Setting the milk before her, he took the chair across from her and sipped his morning coffee. “The phone should be working sometime this morning. I’m sure Russ looks forward to hearing from you.”
“I’m sure he does,” she replied firmly, all traces of mirth disappearing from her cold smile. “I have a whole lot I want to say to that... jerk, just as soon as I can.”
Her angry tone alarmed Brian. “You do understand that what Russ did, he did out of love?”
“Oh, I understand all right,” she replied, bitterly. “I understand that he was too much of a coward to tell me the truth himself, that he sent you all the way up here to do it, instead of him.”
“He wanted to spare your feelings.”
“No, he wanted to avoid my wrath. Which is not going to happen, because I’m still upset.” She looked at the pancakes. “As hungry as I should be, Brian, I just can’t eat. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He said softly, empathizing with her needs. “Eat later.”
She rose and as her hands went to her robe, his breath froze in his chest.
She was going to take it off!
He was only mildly disappointed to see a two piece black bikini set, as the folds of green silk fell away.
His eyes were drawn to the puckered pink scar where the bullet had gone in and shuddered inwardly, remembering only too well the night when he had fought to keep her life’s blood from bleeding her dry.
“I’m going for a swim,” she said, striding toward the French doors.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, what with your shoulder and all?”
“I’ve been swimming for nearly two weeks under a physiotherapist’s direction. Hydrotherapy is good for me.”
“I’ll accompany you,” he said, collecting his sunglasses from the counter.
“Suit yourself,” she grumbled, grabbing a large plush towel from the bathroom.
The air outside couldn’t have been more than fifteen degrees Celsius, a little cool to go swimming Brian supposed but Miranda seemed intent on going.
He watched her scar-marred back as she put distance between them, watched the motions of her appealing derriere as she walked.
The thong left very little to his imagination...
She walked out to the edge of the dock, near the marina and laid her towel out on it.
Nearby, on the bank of the river, Brian righted an Adirondack styled chair that had tipped over in the elements and sat down to watch her.
Though his eyes were hidden by mirrored sunglasses, Miranda could feel the hunger of his eyes.
He wore a poker face but she was not fooled.
She knew when a man was taking an interest in her body.
Only now, was she flaunting herself for him?
Shamelessly, she decided after the thought.
She wanted to punish him.
For what, she was not quite sure.
Punish him with the sight and sound and scent of what he could not have: her.
It was a cruel and unusual punishment, true and she using her body as an instrument of torture was wrong, yes but she was intent on making him suffer, in any way she could, for being an accessory to the injustice that had been done her by her uncle.
More than that, she would do it to spite his insolence.
He still had the keys to her rental car.
That alone was enough to bring out the hostility in her.
Yes, she would punish him for taking away her car keys and for heartlessly telling her the truth about Richard.
Richard.
Her heart ached for him and loathed him all at once.
She willed her tears away.
There would be no more tears shed for Richard: last night had been enough.
Last night, she had said good-bye to the Richard that she had known.
The Richard that was the lie.
The illusion.
The real Richard was far worse than the loss of the false one.
Before Brian could see the trace of tears in her eyes, she dove off of the dock in one quick, smooth motion, deftly cutting the surface of the cold weed free water.
She surfaced several meters away from the dock and slightly downstream, in water that was up to her waist. She swam against the current and into deeper w
ater, toward the main channel of the river.
As Brian watched her in the water, swimming as with the sleek effortless efficiency of a seal, he found that he could not contain his smile.
When she had disrobed, his jaw had nearly hit the floor.
How her body tempted him!
With what little she wore, she may as well have been naked!
Her full breasts were only barely contained by the small triangles of black material that covered them, attached to her neck and rib cage by the thinnest of strings. The thong bikini bottoms she had worn had betrayed an absence of hair in her pubic region, a beautifully sculpted rear end, trim stomach and long, athletically toned legs.
She had stolen the breath from his chest, feigning indifference when clearly she was trying to provoke him.
Provoke me in what way, though? He wondered.
Toward madness?
Stark raving insanity maybe?
She was as addictive to him as chocolate and was doing his sanity no favors by prancing around in a more than half-naked state.
Or was this her way of punishing him for being the harbinger of bad news?
“Women,” he muttered under his breath.
He’d never understand them and didn’t know why he bothered trying.
He watched her swimming to his right, making great progress against the current, when suddenly her progress began to slow and then stop all together.
He heard her swear, just loud enough to be audible.
“What’s wrong?” He called out to her, already removing his shirt and jeans. “Cramp?”
“Yes.” She weakly called back.
She seemed to be favoring her wounded left arm as she stayed afloat, slowly making her way toward the dock.
At the rate the current was going, she’ll miss it and be further downstream, he thought, as he dove into the water.
“Easy does it, love. I’m coming.”
“I don’t need your help!” She growled but he could see that she did.
He front-crawled to her, his arms moving in perfect powerful sync with the steady thrust of his strong legs.
He was at her side almost immediately, sliding an arm under her slippery waist, while he backstroked with his free arm and kicked his legs.
Sensing that her help was required to carry them both back to the dock, Miranda bit back the stream of insults that her mind had formulated at his touch and instead kicked in rhythm with him.
Soon, he grabbed unto the dock and hoisted himself up.
Bracing his large feet, he lifted her easily out of the water, bringing her to his chest.
For all of a moment, Miranda was speechless as she gazed in wonder at the near nudity of the man sent to Waterhen to protect her.
Out of his T-shirt and jeans, he seemed even more of a giant.
His broad shoulders were of taut, firm muscle, his arms muscle-bound.
His biceps were easily as thick as her waist... His male breasts were angular with lean muscles, the small nipples erect from the chill of first the water and then the air.
His abdominal muscles were a wall of firm, rippling flesh. She dared to glance lower and blushed at what she found.
Her cheeks heated and she realized that she hadn’t blushed like this in years!
Brian didn’t miss a thing.
“If you’re done ogling me now, Miranda, I’ll take my thank you very much, Mr. Logan.”
His hands hadn’t moved from her arms, holding her erect before him.
Erect... the thought made her blush a shade darker.
“Kindly take your hands off of me.”
He didn’t. “Is that the thanks I get for saving your scrawny ass?”
“Your job is to protect me, remember?”
She looked up at him, green eyes accusing, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.
The look in her eyes softened into a sort of longing that made his breath catch in his throat.
The knowledge that he was responsible for the blush on her cheeks, the sparkle of barely disguised want in her eye, filled him with delight and with a want of his own...
“So it is,” he mused, eyes of dark steel locked unto hers. “So it is...”
Miranda’s breath caught in her throat when she realized that Brian was going to kiss her.
The hardness of his eyes softened into humor and then something fanciful as the giant’s mouth lowered unto hers.
She kept her lips closed to him and made a noise of anger in her throat.
But his lips were so gentle, his body so warm in contrast to the chill around them, that she soon found herself giving into brazen temptation, granting him access to the soft secrets of her mouth.
His kiss disarmed her completely, utterly, claiming her as his own and in it she found a strange comfort.
For a man of his size, of his animal magnetism, he was incredibly gentle, though that tenderness was driven by his obvious hunger for her.
He drew her closer to his chest, nearly crushing her to him, plundering her sweet mouth with the heat of his passionate tongue.
His kiss was so demanding!
As she brought her hand to his shoulder for support, he gripped her waist with a large open hand, bringing them pelvis to pelvis, that she could feel the first signs of his obvious arousal.
Several long moments of ecstasy passed before Miranda came to her senses but to her senses she did come – and with a fury!
With all of her strength, she tore her mouth away from his and pushed herself away from Brian.
She found herself flailing as he released her, falling back into the water unimpeded.
Her back stung sharply as it slapped hard against the cold surface of the river but she kept herself afloat after a minor submersion and glared up at her keeper.
“And just what the Hell was that?” She demanded angrily, slapping water at him.
She was as angry as she was embarrassed by her own wanton reaction to his hot mouth, his bold kiss, his brazen touch…
She had been warmed by him but anger and the river were again making her cold.
“A kiss between two consenting adults.”
“Consenting adults my ass!” She snapped, again slapping the water angrily. “You... you forced yourself on me!”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, love. I know when a woman is kissing me back.”
“Why did you do it?”
His answer was typically male, “Because I wanted to.”
The truth was, she’d been so soft in his arms, gazing up at him with her cat-like green eyes he had felt an irresistible compulsion to kiss her.
He hadn’t been able to resist the invitation of her soft pink lips any more than she had been able to resist yielding to his.
“That’s a poor excuse!” She vented. “Well, maybe not for you, you – you manhandling chauvinistic pig!”
“Ouch, love. You’ve a mouth on you that really smarts.”
“Go to Hell!” She spat but looked incredibly weary, despite the fire in her lively green eyes.
“Why don’t you come out of the water, Miranda.” He said, extending a hand toward her. “You’re clearly tired – c’mon, out of the water now.”
“Like Hell I will!”
“Suit yourself.” He sat down on the dock, in his wet boxer shorts, slapping at the mosquitoes that came to feed on his moist flesh. “I’ll just wait here until you come to your senses. Considering your current tantrum, it might take a while.”
“Ass!” She hissed, splashing him with water. “Who died and made you King of Jerks?”
He laughed at her. “Come on, I’ll give you a hand up.”
“Oh, right! I already know how that works out, thank you but no!”
“C’mon. It’ll be faster if I just haul you up.”
“I’d rather drown!” She snapped and began swimming for the shore nearby, a shoreline that was fronted by reeds.
She balked at the thought of what kind of creatures may be in the reeds, waiting for her to step o
n them but thinking of the far bigger and more dense creature sitting on the dock, she hurried through the weeds and out of the water, up unto the bank and headed for the house.
He was right behind her, even as she was about to enter the cabin.
“Miranda?”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now, so save it.”
“Uhm, Miranda?” He reached for her.
“No, Brian.”
“Miranda!”
“What?” She barked, reeling on him, fists clenched.
“I thought you might like to know – there’s something wriggling on your left leg.”
She paled as she looked down and saw the worm like brown creature sliding over the wet surface of her skin.
She froze with fear.
“Oh …my …God. What is that?”
“Clearly some kind of leech. Just a common bloodsucker, likely.” He had a hand on the French door. “Stay here – I’ll be right back.”
He took the salt shaker from the kitchen table and was quickly back at her side.
She was still staring dumbly at the bloodsucker, frozen with fear.
“What are you doing?” She asked, as he bent down to crouch next to her.
“I’m going to get it off of you – it’s already attached.”
“Attached?” Anxiously she insisted: “Yes, get it off – get it off.”
“This will require me touching you, you know.” He teased her.
“Then hurry up and touch me!”
He would have laughed at her request, had she not sounded so grave about it.
He covered both sides of the bloodsucker with the white table salt and together they watched it curl away from her skin, contracting into a ball.
Brian swept it off of her.
“Better?”
She moved her leg out from beneath his touch and glared at him. “Much.”
“I don’t suppose I’ll get a thank you for this, either.”
She gritted her teeth. “Thanks.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“Yes.”
“Quite the monosyllablist today, hmm?”
“Quite.”
“Well, ready to go in for breakfast?”
“You’re one Hell of a smug jerk for an Aussie, you know that?”
He reached out and brushed her kiss-swollen bottom lip with his thumb.
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