Dammit, he should just walk home now. His chances of surviving the rain and lightning and gloom of the storm had to be better than his chances of keeping his hands off Charity MacKay if the two of them spent the night alone in his grandpappy’s cabin. And the way things were adding up, that’s exactly what was going to happen.
A SCATTERING OF RAINDROPS dotting Tanner’s shirt, Charity watched him—efficient, muscular, macho—tie his side of the plane to a tree trunk. As a blast of wind raked the trees against the sky, pulled at her hair and bucked the plane, the rope connected to her side slid through her fingers like cooked spaghetti through a fork tine.
Tanner yelled, “Hold on.”
Duh. That’s what she was supposed to be doing instead of watching him. This was not putting her thoughts about Tanner Davenport under control as she’d planned to do while driving home from Alvena’s.
Tanner ran around the plane and grabbed the rope as she snatched it from the ground. Together they pulled against another gust. He said, “Like trying to tame a wild horse.”
“Try the whole blasted herd.” She dug her boot heels into the ground, her back muscles aching at the strain. The plane was Tanner’s pride and joy and he couldn’t loose it—even though, to her, it was an instrument of torture. She knew all about losing important things, things treasured and held dear. She pulled harder.
This was better. Hey, she could work with him and not ogle his chestnut hair and fine muscles. She could spend the night with him without obsessing over his manly nature. She gave Tanner a sideways glance. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Tanner nodded at an oak. “Wrap the rope around the trunk. I’ll hold the plane down.”
She did as instructed and in a flash he was beside her, tying some fancy knots, anchoring the plane to the tree. He faced her, grinning like a jack-o’-lantern in a rainstorm. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her.
“Now you’ll get soaked.”
“We’ll take turns. Thanks for helping with the plane. We did it. Though if you were fifty pounds heavier and built like Schwarzenegger this whole thing would have been a lot easier.”
“You should have stopped at thanks.”
He laughed and swooped her into his arms, twirling into the breeze and raindrops. Grown women didn’t get picked up. Least, not usually. Least, not her.
“You are so damn beautiful, Charity MacKay. It takes my breath away.”
Her heart soared. She braced her arms on his shoulders. “Thought you wanted Schwarzenegger.”
“Couldn’t tell Schwarzenegger he was beautiful and live to talk about it.” Tanner gave her a smile that lit the world and suddenly she did feel beautiful. Then he kissed her, again, making her feel alive and special. How was she supposed to get over his kisses when he kept giving them?
Right now she didn’t care. Somewhere between saving the farm, horses and MacKay pride, life had passed her by. Until this moment. Until Tanner Davenport had come along and kissed her till her toes curled.
His lips were sinfully sweet, just the right pressure, just the right tenderness, just the right…everything. He took his mouth away—hers begged for more—his eyes dark, his breath quick and hot. She wiped rain from his forehead and laughed out loud. “Why’d you kiss me?” Attraction? Desire? Lust?
“Gratitude.”
G-gratitude? Gratitude! He couldn’t have surprised her more if he’d lit a firecracker and put it in her ear.
“The first time you kissed me because you admire me, and this kiss is a pay-off?”
He shrugged. “You hugged me when I landed the plane. A kiss seemed appropriate.”
“Sending thank-you notes is appropriate, Tanner. Opening a door for a woman is appropriate.”
“What are you getting at?”
What was she getting at? And why did she ask him why in the first place? Would she ever learn to accept things without delving into every nook and cranny? No, because she had this need to control every blasted thing. “Just put me down. We’re getting soaked. We have to find shelter. Drowning is a distinct possibility. Where’s that cabin?”
At least she didn’t have to worry about Tanner having feelings for her. That was good…sort of. Mutual attraction could be tough to get over. One-sided attractions were a minor inconvenience.
He set her on the ground and said, “We’re on a mountain, we won’t drown. The cabin’s on the other side.”
“Why didn’t you just land there? It would have been a shorter walk.”
“It’s a hill. Planes hate hills and, believe it or not, I intended to land back at the house where there wouldn’t be any walk at all.” Lightning flashed and the rain kicked up a notch. “Let’s go before there’s a barbecue and we’re the main course.” He snagged her hand. “It’s slippery. Hold on to me.”
She took her hand back. “No need. I’m a double for Schwarzenegger.”
She followed Tanner up the hillside, getting soaked to the bone. They slid more than walked down the other side. Rain fell harder. Weeds and evergreens dripped water; rocks turned dark gray from moisture. “Thought you said the cabin was here?”
“Guess it’s over the next hill…or the one after.”
Her eyes widened by half. “The one after?”
“Hey, I haven’t been here for a while. All the hills seem the same from the sky and I was busy landing the plane.”
“How do you get around Alaska without getting lost? All that snow looks the same, too.”
“Maps, instruments, gut instincts.”
“Does your gut have instincts in Kentucky or just in Alaska?”
He grabbed her hand. “We’ll find out.”
“That’s not the answer I was hoping for,” she replied as she stumbled after him.
Rain fell like a curtain of beads, stinging her face and head. Thank heaven for Tanner’s jacket. ’Course that meant he was getting wet all over. When they got to the top of the next rise, he pointed over a new stand of young black cherry trees. They seemed to be everywhere. He said, “Look there.”
“That’s an old pig house. Did you have to pick the middle of a deluge to lose your instincts? Couldn’t you get us lost on a sunny day?”
“Don’t get crabby on me, MacKay.”
“Remind me to apologize.”
He looked down at her, water dripping from his nose and chin. He grinned. “Besides, we’re not lost, just misplaced.”
They slid down the next slope, her boots squishing with every step, her hair hanging like a wet mop around her face. They started up the next hill and spotted the cabin behind a stand of evergreens.
“See,” Tanner said as he slapped her back, jarring her to the fillings of her teeth. “My instincts are alive and well in Kentucky.”
“More like you’re lucky as all get-out.”
“That, too. Come on, loser builds the fire.”
They raced to the cabin, splashing and sliding till they clamored up onto the porch, the floorboards clattering. Tanner shoved open the door and Charity darted inside. He slammed the door closed, then leaned back, the rain and wind howling on the other side. “Feel as if I’ve gone through a car wash without a car.”
“I hear water dripping.”
“I think it’s us. Grandpappy lived here when he first bought Thistledown, though at the time Grandma called it that dang farm. She was kind of a city-slicker.” Tanner struck a lighter.
“Where’d that come from?”
“Back pocket. In Alaska you don’t leave home without a lighter.”
Tanner held it high and she caught a glimpse of wooden chairs, a neat table with a bowl in the center, bunk beds made up with dry blankets.
“All the comforts of home.”
“I didn’t know this place was here.”
“Nate keeps it up. Sentimental reasons, probably. The hands use it once in a while if they get stuck. I used to come out when…when I needed some space. Ah, the lantern’s still on the mantel. Some things never change.”
More thunde
r shook the rafters and the rain on the roof sounded like marbles being dropped from on high. Tanner lit the lantern wick and a soft, golden glow fell around him. Charity couldn’t help but wonder how one man could look so virile and sexy with his hair slicked to his head as if he were some oily character in a silent movie.
She snagged some logs from the pile beside the hearth and tossed them into the fireplace. “Give me that lighter. We’re both freezing.”
“Grandma wasn’t the only city-slicker.” He handed her the lantern, then chucked paper and scraps of wood in with the logs. Setting flame to the paper, Tanner said, “In Alaska sometimes the only thing between me and the grave is a warm fire.” They both watched as the wood caught, quickly turning the flames into a blaze. “We should take off our clothes.”
He turned to her, surprise on his face as if he didn’t quite believe what he’d said. For a second the only sounds were the crackle of fire, the storm and Charity’s heart pounding like a horse’s at the finish line.
“I mean—” Tanner cleared his throat “—we should wrap up in a blanket…blankets. Wrap ourselves in blankets. One for each,” he added quickly. “Till our clothes dry. We’re cold.” He nodded at the bunks. “See? Blankets. You first. I’ll look for food. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Food would be good here. Got to be something around to take our minds off…off the rain.” He let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. “It’s going to be one damn long night, Charity MacKay.”
“Why are you so nervous?”
He glanced back at her, taking her in. His eyes darkened.
“Are you worried about the plane?”
“No.” His voice sounded thick and a little unsteady. Slowly he stepped toward her and straightened the collar of his jacket, which she wore. His fingers brushed her neck, his gaze locked with hers. Heat radiated to every part of her body and it had nothing to do with the fire in the hearth. She licked her lips, which suddenly felt dry, and she could barely breathe. Then he bent his head and kissed her.
She felt weak, then strong, as his firm, demanding mouth molded to hers. She touched his face, feeling the slick drops of water mix with the rough texture of his five-o’clock shadow. Her fingers trailed down his long throat and around his strong neck. He kissed the corner of her mouth then her neck and behind her left ear. Shivers danced up her spine and desire lodged in her belly. His arms slid around her back, bringing her body to him, his arousal pressing into her middle.
Holy moley. Neck, arms, chest were part of the kissing thing. But the part of his anatomy pressing against her at the moment went beyond kissing.
He pulled back and she hated it. Being in Tanner’s arms and kissing and knowing what effect she had on him, and what effect he had on her, seemed incredible. She didn’t want it to end. She gazed at him, her heart pounding. “I’m not exactly the diva of kissing, but that was no gratitude kiss.”
“It was a mistake kiss.”
“We’ve gone from gratitude to mistake. This isn’t progress.”
Rainwater dripped from his chin and clumped his lashes together with moisture. He pulled in a ragged breath and stepped away from her, the light of the fire casting dark shadows on his face. “In ten days I’m out of here and…and I’m not into one-night stands. Or even ten-day stands, for that matter, least not with you. There can’t be any progress between us. There can’t be anything between us.” He looked at her. “Right?”
He massaged the back of his neck. She’d rather have him massage the back of her neck or any place else he wanted to massage. But that wouldn’t happen, for all the reasons Tanner had given her. “How about maybe?”
“Maybe? I’m not staying and you’re not going, and you’re not the casual-sex type. No maybe.”
She gave him a woman-of-the-world look. Least, that’s what she hoped it was. “How do you know? I’m very wordly.”
“When you say something, you mean it. When you give something—” his eyes turned mahogany “—you commit to it forever. Your world is here, and that world doesn’t work for me. My father wanted me to raise horses like he did and when I didn’t he kicked me out—out of his life, out of the family and out of his will. As if I didn’t exist. When I’m here, no matter how welcome Nate makes me feel, that’s all I remember. Not belonging. But you belong here as much as every tree and horse and house. There is no ‘maybe’ for us.”
He shook his head as if suddenly very tired of the whole idea. “We should eat. Think I’ll go outside and catch us a bear.”
“You might find a can of something lurking around.”
“That would work.” He crossed the room. “You better change.” He tossed her a towel from a shelf. “Use two blankets. Two blankets would be good. It’s…cold.”
She watched him carefully place logs on the fire, as if doing one thing and thinking of something else. She peeled off her blouse and jeans to hang by the fire to dry. She’d keep her bra and panties on. There could be nothing between her and Tanner. But she couldn’t be buck-naked around him no matter how many excuses he had for not getting involved. Not that she didn’t agree with every word he’d said, but her hormones sure didn’t. They didn’t get it at all. They were near red alert no matter how she tried to tell them they were red-alerting for nothing.
TANNER LOOKED AROUND the cabin, at any place but Charity. Food. There must be food somewhere. He needed something to take his mind off kissing her and wanting to make love to her. He wanted both so much, his teeth ached. ’Course another part of his anatomy ached a lot more, but he wasn’t going to think about that. The thought of Charity wrapped in a blanket was enticing as hell no matter how much he tried to convince himself this was a wrong-guy-for-the-wrong-girl scenario. “Chili or soup?”
“Huh?” she asked from across the dimly lit room.
Firelight danced on the wood floor and over the plank ceilings. The scent of burning hickory hung in the cabin. It was warmer now. He thought of Charity. Too warm. “There are cans and an opener and some plates and a jug over here.”
“I vote chili.”
She came up beside him, draped in a blanket, her hair fanned out to dry, and she looked all soft and warm and cuddly. She surveyed his find, then picked up the gray jug sitting beside the canned goods. “Looks like Deryl Pruit’s moonshine.” She pointed to the red-painted X on the front, then pulled out the cork with a hollow pop. Her blanket gaped in front. Whatever that jug contained couldn’t be as distracting as that exposed soft skin.
Charity sniffed the contents of the jug and her eyes watered. “Yep, that’s Deryl’s. After a couple drinks of this stuff we won’t have to worry about any maybes between us. We’ll be too zonked to care about anything.”
“You really intend to drink that shine?”
She splashed a portion into two tin cups, picked one up and saluted Tanner. “To impossible relationships.”
She gulped. Her eyes watered more and her mouth parted in a perfect O. How he wanted to kiss that O.
She coughed and sputtered. “Wow!”
Yeah, that’s exactly how he felt about her. But he shouldn’t. He grabbed his cup and took a sip, letting it burn a path down his throat. He concentrated on the burn and not the woman next to him. “We need a pot to hang over the fire.”
“You change, then set the table. I’ll cook. Too bad we don’t have my pie.”
He swallowed another mouthful. Had the top of his head just separated from the bottom? Good. That would keep his mind off Charity. After sipping this stuff, he wouldn’t have a mind. It would evaporate thanks to the alcohol. “Check the pockets of my jacket.”
“You put my pie in your pocket?”
“Not exactly.” He crossed to the beds and tossed her his jacket, which she’d left there. With her back to him as she searched the pockets, he peeled off his shirt and jeans. He wrapped himself in a blanket that covered him to his knees. He might be turned on as all get-out but there was no chance of Charity returning the sentiment. Nate hadn’t called him Old Chicken Legs for nothing.
“Well, I’ll be darned,” Charity said as she held up the jacket. “Amazing what you find in pockets these days. Army knife, squashed KitKat, and maybe we can use this rock here to flavor the chili.”
She flipped it to him and he caught it midair as she asked, “Alaskan lucky piece?”
He looked at it for a long moment. “Kentucky memorabilia. From the creek that runs through Thistledown.” He went to the table and took another drink of liquid fire from the tin cup. “Nate and I used to send our stick boats down. I’d make up stories about where they landed. As long as I put horses in the story, he’d listen.”
“I did that with Savannah, but the story always had to end with shopping at Bloomingdale’s.”
Tanner rubbed his thumb over the rock’s edges, smoothed by this very motion. “Don’t know why I keep this thing around. Reminds me of Nate, I guess.”
Charity stirred the pot over the fire. “I’d go berserk if I moved away from the farm and Savannah, Patience and Mama. I wouldn’t know how to live anyplace else.”
The red, gold and auburn strands of her hair glimmered in the flickering light. “And I wouldn’t know how to live if I stayed here.”
She turned toward him and nodded, and he felt himself do the same. Like some unspoken truce that she understood their lives led them in different directions. He took in her soft lips and green eyes. Dang if they weren’t like sticker bushes on his well-plotted path.
She went back to stirring; he took another drink of shine. “Next time I flip a switch and something electrical happens,” she said, “I’m going to appreciate it. Think I’ll enclose a thank-you note with my next electric bill.”
She snagged a cloth and took the pot from the fire, then scooped chili into the dishes.
She looked delicious and tempting—much too tempting. He needed some other distraction than moonshine, which was tough in a one-room cabin.
“Let’s talk about the wedding,” he suggested. That should keep his mind off Charity wrapped in a blanket—too bad she wasn’t wrapped in cellophane. Gads, the shine was rotting his brain. Wedding, think wedding. He sat, took a spoon, only looked halfway up so as not to connect with Charity’s lovely face across the table; instead, he connected with the gaping blanket again, and this time the gape revealed nicely rounded cleavage.
The Wedding Rescue Page 8