Shawna Delacorte – Stormbound With A Tycoon (страница 3)

“Forget it.” She snapped out the words. “I’m capable of taking care of it myself.”

“Whoa…” A slight edge of irritation crept into his voice. “I didn’t say you weren’t capable. I merely offered to help.”

Jessica grabbed a jacket from the coatrack by the front door. “You weren’t offering to help, you were telling me what to do.” She shoved her arms into the sleeves, turned up the collar, then opened the front door.

She paused long enough to shoot a contemptuous look in his direction. “I don’t need your help.” Then she stepped out onto the porch prepared to brave the elements.

She bit at her lower lip in a moment of contemplation. Perhaps she had been a little harsh with her comments. He really hadn’t said anything wrong. She clenched her jaw in determination. Dylan Russell had totally unnerved her and she didn’t like it. She hunched her shoulders against the chilly air and ran out into the rain.

Dylan stared after her, his annoyance overriding her show of irritation. She had literally dismissed him as if he had made some sort of disparaging comment rather than a sincere offer of help. He was not accustomed to being treated in that manner, especially by a beautiful woman. He allowed a brief instant of reflection. Of course, he wasn’t accustomed to dealing with independent, self-sufficient women who would even know what a propane tank was let alone what to do with one.

He followed her out into the rain, catching up with her just as she rounded the corner of the garage. He stood by as she bent down and checked the gauge on the tank, then made sure the connection was tight. She glanced up at him, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the rain. “The valve’s closed. The tank has been shut off.”

She opened the valve to start the flow of propane to the cabin, then she straightened up and took a couple of steps forward until he blocked her way. They stood very close together, almost as close as when they had been in the kitchen.

The tightness spread across his chest again as he stared at her. The rain matted her hair against her head. Rivulets of water ran down her face and formed her long, dark eyelashes into spiky clumps. He started to reach out and touch her, but managed to resist the urge. He wanted to wipe the water from her cheek and kiss away the droplets from her all-too-tempting lips. It was the kind of delicious-looking mouth that would drive any man to distraction. He forced down the desire and reluctantly stepped aside.

She remained rooted to the spot, unable to move. Every fiber of her being screamed out for the physical contact that was almost there but not quite. She swallowed down the lump lodged in her throat and tried to still her racing pulse. She finally managed, with difficulty, to break away from the invisible hook pulling her into the realm of his masculinity. She broke into a run, quickly covering the ground back to the cabin.

He followed closely behind. When they reached the covered porch she removed her rain-soaked jacket and shook off the excess water, then pulled off her muddy boots and left them on the porch before going inside. Dylan followed suit by kicking off his shoes, too. Once inside she hung her jacket on the coatrack to dry.

He pulled his wet sweatshirt off over his head, revealing a wet T-shirt. She tried not to stare at the way it clung to the well-defined planes of his hard body, but her attempts were useless. Her breathing quickened and, much to her dismay, her pulse started to race again. Somehow she had to put a stop to the physical effect he had on her.

He hooked the sweatshirt over the doorknob, then ran his fingers through his wet hair before turning toward her. “I guess that answers the question about the heat and hot water. Where do you keep the matches?” He glanced around the large open expanse of the cabin’s living room and dining room, then toward the kitchen door. “In the kitchen?”

She forced a calm to the inner turmoil running rampant through her body, at least enough to hopefully fool him with a neutral outer manner. “The propane company must have turned the tank off when they filled it last week, then forgot to turn it back on.”

She retrieved the matches from the fireplace mantel. “It’s lucky for you I showed up when I did to fix things.” Her thoughts had slipped out without her meaning to say them aloud.

He bristled at her words. “Turning on a propane tank and putting a match to some pilot lights is not beyond my capabilities.”

The heat of embarrassment spread across her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She didn’t seem to be able to stop herself from taking a cheap shot at him. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

A sharp edge of sarcasm surrounded his words. “Since you obviously have everything well under control, I’ll leave the work to you to finish. I’ll take this opportunity to get out of these wet clothes. If you’ll excuse me—” He turned and walked away from her.

Jessica watched as he climbed the steps. This man that she remembered as being larger than life had suddenly been reduced in stature to that of the ordinary guy next door wearing wet clothes and dripping water on the floor. Well, perhaps ordinary was not the correct word. There was nothing ordinary about Dylan Russell, nor about the surprisingly unsettled effect he had on her. As if to reinforce her thoughts and feelings, a little tremor darted through her body letting her know she was not as in control as she hoped.

Dylan stripped off his wet clothes. He was not sure exactly what to think about the unexpected turn of events that had filled the morning. He didn’t have any experience with women who were anything more than a stunning decoration on his arm and a very enthusiastic partner in his bed.

But that was no longer the case for him. It had been quite a while since he was last intimately involved with any type of woman. It certainly had not been for lack of opportunity. The thrill of the chase no longer excited him, especially when the quarry offered no challenge. Jessica certainly did not fit into that mold. He was not sure exactly what mold she did fit into, but he strongly suspected it was not any type familiar to him.

He took a pair of warm socks, a sweater and jeans from the dresser where he’d placed his clothes the night before when he unpacked. As he dressed, his thoughts continued to center around Jessica. He found her beautiful, intelligent, intriguing…and very disconcerting.

He recalled her comment about it being lucky for him that she was there to fix things at the cabin. He did not like her implication that he was incapable of having taken care of those simple tasks. Was that the image he projected? The opinion people held of him? Someone who basically drifted along without purpose or plan? Someone who wasn’t capable of handling the simple little tasks of day-to-day life? He clenched his jaw into a tight line. He did not like it, but knew it was what they believed.

It was a realization he had come to three months ago when a business deal had gone bad, throwing him into a downward spiral of depression. It wasn’t the business deal itself and certainly not the loss of profits that had so strongly affected him. It was much more than that. It was the reason he had asked Justin for the use of the cabin. He had choices to consider and decisions to make. He had to do something about straightening out his life.

He glanced toward the stairs leading down to the living room. And just how was he going to be able to accomplish anything with the unexpected distraction of the very desirable Jessica McGuire?

Coffee…he needed some hot coffee to take away the damp chill. He started toward the stairs, then turned back. There was no reason to intrude on her privacy by continuing to use her bedroom. Nothing would be gained by purposely antagonizing her. He quickly moved his belongings to the other bedroom.

As soon as he finished, he hurried downstairs. He had brought a few groceries with him, but not enough to accommodate two people for more than a couple of days. When the rain let up, one of them would have to go to the little market on the main road. The reality of his thoughts stopped him cold in his tracks. Somewhere along the line he had apparently decided that the two of them would share the cabin, or, more specifically, that he did not intend to leave.

Even while moving his clothes to the other bedroom the thought had not crystallized in that manner. He squelched the mischievous grin that tried to take hold. Just how was the in charge Jessica going to handle that idea? His amusement was short-lived. As soon as he reached the living room he saw the unhappy look on her face.

“If you’re through with my bedroom, I’d like to change into some dry clothes.”

“Certainly.” He stepped aside, still not sure where her testy attitude had come from or why. He decided to let her discover for herself that he had moved his things out of her bedroom.

She started up the stairs, paused, then turned back toward him just long enough to level a disagreeable look in his direction. It appeared as if she were about to say something, then changed her mind and continued up the stairs.