by Lyn Stone
Ford’s heated gaze reminded Mary that he hadn’t forgotten their interlude before the phone call. She also realized he didn’t intend to continue it, at least not at the moment. The emptiness inside her ached for him. But she knew the foolishness of pursuing a physical relationship with a man like Ford. It would be short-term, and heartbreaking when it ended.
As though he read her mind, he stated the immediate problem flat out, mincing no words. “We can’t... make love again, Mary. Not until this is over, anyway.”
“Make love? It was just sex, Ford. And who asked you!” she retorted, stung that he had put it so bluntly.
He laughed bitterly as he picked up the poker and stabbed at the fire. “Didn’t give you much chance to ask, did I?”
She turned completely around and crossed her arms over her chest, her breath surging in and out rapidly, in both anger and disappointment.
“Mary,” he said quietly, “I don’t have any protection with me. It’s not like I expected anything like this to happen. We could complicate matters big time, you know.”
She scrambled up off the mattress, stuck her feet in her shoes, and stalked to the kitchen. There she fumbled with the packets of food, slamming them around on the table’s surface and grabbing up the blue packets. “Do you want coffee?” she snapped. “I want coffee.”
She turned on the faucet. Nothing happened. She wiggled it furiously. Still nothing. She gave it a final, vicious twist and the thing came off in her hand.
Mary slammed it down with a curse, grabbed the enameled coffeepot from the stovetop and stormed out the back door. She welcomed the bite of frosty air that greeted her heated body and the linings of her throat and lungs. The light snow sprinkled her face, caught in her eyelashes and melted on her lips. Better than a cold shower any day, she thought with increasing fury.
Who did Ford think he was, preaching to her about safe sex, as if she didn’t know the chances they had already taken? But in all fairness, she hadn’t really given it much thought. She hadn’t worried for a moment about anything transmittable. Whatever else Ford was, the man was honorable to the core, and would never have touched a woman if he had anything like that. He surely knew that she hadn’t either, since occupations such as hers had such stringent health requirements.
That peril aside, there loomed another she should have considered. He had withdrawn from her to prevent a pregnancy. That age-old method hardly boasted any great success rate. Still, it had been a thoughtful thing to do during a time when any rational thought could hardly have been expected.
Maybe she should be thanking him instead of flouncing off in a huff. But his outspokenness on the whole matter rankled. His explanation should have been tender and sweetened with regret, at the very least. Instead, he’d made it sound as if she were hanging on him, begging for sex, while he—tower of wisdom that he was—resisted for the good of all. Insensitive dope. Typical man.
Mary picked her way through the mass of broken pine branches, slipping this way and that, until she reached the small stream she remembered. “A lot of good this did,” she muttered, grimacing at the stream covered with ice and littered with pinecones and tree trash.
Ford approached from behind her, slid down the bank and tapped the ice with the ax he carried. He reached out for the coffeepot. Mary thrust it into his hand and watched him dip it beneath the surface. With a wordless but meaningful glare, he handed it back, retraced his steps past her and returned to the cabin.
Only the fact that she knew she would freeze if she didn’t, made Mary follow him. All the way, her mind conjured visions of what the next few days held for them. Ford would drive her mad with that nobler-than-thou attitude of his while she practiced avoidance. Not a pleasant prospect for their enforced confinement in such a small place.
But worse problems loomed. Mary was afraid everything would culminate in some kind of confrontation with Perry, leaving one of the men—maybe both, and her, as well—full of bullet holes. The very thought sent shivers of dread racing up and down her spine.
Ford kept out of Mary’s way and let her arrange the coffeepot on two logs placed over the red coals she’d raked to one side of the fireplace. For someone who had never had to make do and improvise the way they were doing now, Mary managed very well. He knew he was causing her more grief than the lack of conveniences.
He resisted the urge to take over the task of simulating a campfire and do it more efficiently. She needed the busyness of it to work off her anger. And she was definitely still angry.
He hadn’t been exactly what you would call tactful about their not making love again. But, damn it all, she ought to understand. They were stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, isolated, and so hot for each other they could set the cabin on fire. He couldn’t afford the distraction. All he needed was to be worrying about whether or not this little piece of togetherness might foster a little complication she wouldn’t want.
Not that he would want it, either. An unexpected picture flashed through his mind—one he tried to shove aside. Mary in a rocking chair, her arms curled around a blanketed little bundle. A small mouth nestled against her breast. Her smile... Ford shook his head to clear it of the vision. Not allowed. No babies, no serious entanglements.
At the critical moment, he’d done all he could to avoid that He had wanted nothing more in this world than to hold her in the aftermath, their bodies still joined. But he had forgone that, trying to save her some grief if he could. And how did she thank him?
Maybe it would work out better if she held on to that anger, and he juiced up his own toward her. Not likely they would wind up throwing caution to the winds again if they stayed angry with each other. He couldn’t think of any other way to keep his distance when they had to live cooped up in the cabin for a few days.
Once all this was settled and he made certain Mary was safe, he would like to make things right between them. He wished they could start over, date normally and see what developed. But he would probably be heading back to Memphis as soon as this case was resolved, assuming he still had a job. And, unless he implicated her in the thefts by telling all that he knew, Mary would resume her teaching. Maybe find somebody else. That last thought set his teeth to grinding.
Still, he now owned property in Nashville—the new condo he’d bought for his mom. And he would be visiting her and Molly regularly, just as he always had. Maybe...
He lay back on the mattress and folded his uninjured arm beneath his head, watching Mary out of the corner of his eye while she fiddled with the coffeepot. Her slender curves were all but obscured by the layers of clothing she wore. That silky hair looked a tangled mess. Her cheeks and nose were chapped raw from the biting cold. And she was still the most beautiful, the most exciting woman he had ever seen in his life.
The beauty went deep. Soul deep. Ford knew in that instant, with a clarity that left no room for doubt and suspicion, that Mary could never do anything wrong. She was good clear through to her bones. Too good for a man like him.
A powerful craving streaked through him—one that surpassed anything sexual. It shot down his reservations as if they were tin ducks in a carnival game.
He needed her like air. It scared the life out of him, but there it was.
After a supper of artificially flavored ramen noodles and coffee, Mary picked up her sleeping bag and headed for the bedroom without even saying good-night.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Ford snapped.
“To bed!” she declared without turning.
Ford leaped up off the mattress and caught her before she reached the door. “You’ll freeze your buns off in there.” He grabbed her shoulders and pointed her back toward the fireplace. “Sleep there on the mattress. I’ll take the bedroom, if you’re so afraid I’ll jump you in your sleep.”
She balked. “I want to sleep in there.”
Ford ground his teeth. “Do, and I’ll haul your butt back in here after you go to sleep!”
“I’ll lock the door
,” she informed him, betraying her real reason for going in there.
“Like that would stop me.” He drew in a deep breath, struggling to stay sane in the face of her provocation. “We’ll both sleep by the fire, and I don’t want to hear another word about it. I promise I won’t bother you. Fair enough?” When she lifted her chin and pressed her lips together, he added, “And don’t you start anything, either!”
She dropped the sleeping bag and slapped him.
He’d had it coming, but it stung all the same. Mary was a lot stronger than he’d thought. The look of surprise and contrition on her face triggered a spurt of laughter, which he neatly hid by turning away from her and clearing his throat.
“I—I never struck anyone before in my life,” she whispered. “It’s just that you—you made me so angry.” The silence was deafening, and then she said, almost inaudibly, “I apologize.”
Ford massaged his jaw and wiggled it back and forth. “Only a couple of teeth loose. Good thing we’re not having steak anytime soon.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned, swept up her sleeping bag and plunked it down beside the hearth. He fingered the stinging imprint of her hand on his cheek while he watched her bundle up for the night.
As soon as she had settled, Ford zipped into his own bag and nestled close behind her.
“You promised not to touch me!” she cried, jerking uptight.
He drew her back down and wrapped his arm around her. “I won’t. Not that way. Doing it through two layers of goose down might be safe enough, but somehow it doesn’t appeal to me. Now go to sleep before I kiss you.”
Ford slept the sleep of the dead and woke feeling foggy and feverish. That was all he needed—to get a blasted infection in the arm. Probably nothing to worry about. A little rise in temp was to be expected with most any wound.
He edged away from Mary to keep from waking her. It was already midmorning, but she needed the rest. Quietly, he added a couple of logs and stoked the fire.
Ford studied her face, composed in sleep, her long dark lashes like feathery fans, her mouth so vulnerable, so kissable. Ford knew he had to get out of that room before he did something he would regret. Again.
They would need more water. As good an excuse as any, he figured. He pulled on his shoes, annoyed that his movements felt lethargic and clumsy. The arm hurt like hell, worse than that time down in Nicaragua when he’d taken a bullet. With a curse, he snatched up the fire-blackened coffeepot and headed out.
As he bent beside the stream, he thought for a minute he heard the jingle of bells. Right. Santa would be along any minute. He crouched farther down and peeked over the bank. By God, it was Santa, or as close to it as Ford ever hoped to get.
“Mornin’, boy,” Knoblett called out. He stood about ten yards away. Again, something jingled.
Then Ford saw the dog Or small pony. The golden retriever gazed up at him, its dark eyes full of friendly curiosity. A bright red leather collar studded with round bells the size of Ping-Pong balls encircled his neck.
Ford cradled the full pot of water in his good arm and strode over to join the old guy. “What the hell—?”
Knoblett chuckled. “I thought you might like a little advance warning we was coming up on ya. Didn’t want us to get shot so I let ol’ Westy here wear his jingle bells. Thinks he’s Rudolph ’round Christmastime.”
Ford laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “‘Westy’?” He reached out his free hand and let the dog sniff.
“Westmoreland,” Knoblett. explained. “He just don’t never know when to quit. Good ol’ soldier.”
Ford scratched Westy’s chin and watched him yawn, exposing a long pink tongue. “How the hell did you get here? It’s got to be four or five miles through the woods from your place.”
“More like six. Walked in, just like you did. It’s a mess out here, ain’t it? Just like this back in eighty-five as I recall.”
The thought that Knoblett could make it through made Ford uneasy. If he could do it that easily, so could Perry. Only Perry couldn’t possibly know where they were yet, he reminded himself. Not until the ice melted and somebody found the Jeep.
The old man seemed to read his mind. “Don’t worry none. The roads are like greased glass. No way anybody’s goin’ anywheres for a couple of days. Least not in no car. This crap begins to melt off, then you might want to be kinda careful. How’re you fixed for defense, son?”
“Got a Glock and two clips. Should be sufficient.”
Knoblett snorted. “Maybe. Maybe not. I brought a rifle just in case.”
“You planning to hang around, are you?” Ford asked, half hoping he would. Ford didn’t feel all that sharp.
“Naw. Thelma might call and think I wuz dead in the bed or somethin’. I could take Mary on back with me, though. They already checked to see if she was there.”
“They? Who?” Ford snapped. “When?”
“Young feller called this morning. Asked if I’d seen Mary lately. Said he had a real important message from her daddy.”
“And you don’t think he was legit?” Ford asked.
“Naw. Evan Shaw don’t hardly ever bother to contact her, and if’n he did, I don’t think he’d go through somebody with a Nashville number to do it. He’d call me direct.”
“You’re sure the call came from Nashville?” Ford demanded.
“Got Caller ID. Gotta keep up with the times, y’know.”
Ford nodded. “What did you tell him?”
“Told him I ain’t seen her in a coon’s age, and if she warn’t at Evan’s house in town, she might’ve gone to Atlanter to see her cousin.”
“She got a cousin there?”
“Not that I know ’bout,” Knoblett said, grinning. His gold tooth gleamed.
Ford considered sending Mary back with the man. She would probably be perfectly safe with Knoblett. Then again, she might not. “Sorry,” he said. “We can’t risk it. Whoever called might not have bought your story.”
Knoblett pushed his cap back and scratched his head. Then his sharp gaze met Ford’s. “Might not, at that. You’re gonna keep her, then.”
There was nothing else he could do. “I’ll keep her.”
Ford needed a contingency plan. “Look, this guy has no idea where we are. The trail in here is totally covered with limbs. He can’t know the cabin even exists.”
Ford only hesitated for a moment before advising Knoblett of his plan. “Soon as the snow and ice clear up, I’m calling in our exact location, so he’ll come for us.”
“Settin’ him up,” Knoblett deduced, and made a little ticking sound with his tongue. “Dangerous.”
“When I’m ready for it to go down, I’ll send Mary to you through the woods.” He noted the direction from which Knoblett had arrived in the clearing. “Due south, right?”
“Yep.”
“Your job will be to get her to my boss in Memphis. Drive her there, call the main office and ask for Michael Duvek. He’ll find you. Got it?”
“Guess you ought to know if you can handle it or not. You done this kinda thing before, have you?”
“A time or two,” Ford replied, scratching the dog’s head as he circled around his legs.
“So you know what you’re a-doing?”
“I know,” he assured the man. “I’ll send Mary on and give her plenty of time to get there before I make that call.”
Knoblett nodded again and looked down at his dog. “Westy’s gonna stay. He can lead our girl back to my place and see she don’t get lost Might be good to have him ’round here, meantime, in case your devil’s got more smarts than you think.”
“Roger that,” Ford replied “Thank you, sir.”
“Nuthin’ to it. Left you some stuff over there,” he said, pointing to a pack propped against a tree next to his rifle. Again, he pinned Ford with a warning stare. “You mind what you get up to in there. Mary’s like one of mine.”
“I hear you,” Ford replied, looking—he hoped—guiltless. “I’ll take
good care of her.”
They shook hands on it. Ford watched the older man pick his way carefully through the fallen debris that covered the clearing around the cabin and reenter the woods.
Ford wished he could insist on Knoblett’s sticking around until just before the showdown. There’d be no problem meeting the attack by Perry on his own, but he could sure use a buffer between Mary and himself in the meantime.
“Look what he brought!” Mary exclaimed as she pulled out several tubes of plastic-encased sausage and a bag of hard rolls. He had also packed a carton of eggs, one of which had broken and leaked all over the stack of chocolate bars and the box of ammo in the bottom. “Cholesterol and bullets,” she remarked, laughing.
Ford loved her laugh. Low-pitched and sexy. Everything she did seemed sexy. He wondered where all her anger had gone. It had evaporated like steam when he came back inside with the dog.
She had greeted Westy like an old friend, which Ford supposed he was. After her baby talk and hugs were rewarded by happy whines and tail-wagging from her furry pal, Ford had given her the goody pack from Knoblett.
She had fussed because Ford hadn’t wakened her to say hello to the old guy, but then her hunger had kicked in and she’d forgotten to be mad. Right now she was munching a chocolate bar while she made soup with the water he’d brought in. He liked that she didn’t hold grudges. And when she pouted, it never lasted long. She packed a mean right, but only used it when all else failed.
The brash self-confidence and daring he required in his women was missing in Mary. She had courage, but it was the quiet kind. Maybe that was why he goaded her the way he did, just to trigger that little bit of aggressiveness she hid so well.
She was delicate, outrageously feminine, and even cried on occasion. But that didn’t seem to matter where his feelings were concerned. He wanted her exactly the way she was.
Her brief spate of adventures had been forced on her by her clueless parents trying to make her into something she was not and never could be. Thank goodness her reaction to her mother’s death had put an end to that. Ford felt relieved that she had come home to her grandmother when she had.