Shawna Delacorte – Stormbound With A Tycoon (страница 4)

He was not sure exactly what the look conveyed, but it made him uncomfortable. It was more than her merely being unhappy with his presence. There was something else in her look, and he couldn’t quite place it. They had met on a couple of occasions many years ago, but that did not change the fact that as adults they were virtually strangers to each other. He knew it was an awkward situation and he wasn’t at all sure exactly how to resolve it so that they each had what they wanted…or in his case, what he needed.

And what he desperately needed was this escape to solitude. He did not want to deal with the ongoing bustling activity of a resort, the impersonal nature of a hotel or the closed-in feeling of being confined to a room as the only way to avoid crowds and activity. Justin’s cabin had been the perfect solution to his needs—isolation without feeling closed in.

The A-frame cabin had a large, open expanse consisting of a living room and dining area. The main level also contained a kitchen and a bathroom. Upstairs was a loft overlooking part of the living room, two bedrooms and a deck that stretched all the way across the front of the cabin above the porch. The cabin was big enough that it wasn’t confining and was surrounded by forest where he could hike without running into other people.

His entire life seemed to be in turmoil, and he was not sure what to do about it. He needed to think things out, to make some decisions…and to do it quickly before things became worse. His thoughts turned to Stanley and Rose Clarkson. He shoved away the horrible guilt that welled inside him whenever he thought of them.

Coffee…he needed some coffee. He headed for the kitchen. The electric coffeemaker on the counter was useless without any electricity. He shuffled through the kitchen cabinets in search of an old percolator to use on the stove. He finally got down on his hands and knees to look in the back of the lower cupboards.

Jessica came downstairs after changing clothes. She paused at the kitchen door and watched him as he rummaged around looking for something. His jeans fit his legs and across his rear end like a second skin. Even with his loose sweater, she could still discern his muscular back and broad shoulders. She closed her eyes, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t keep out the vision from early that morning—Dylan propped up on his elbow with the blanket down around his hips, the well-defined planes of his hard chest clearly visible in the early-morning light, the impish grin on his handsome face and the devilish twinkle in his eyes.

She shook away the unwelcome image and tried to settle the butterflies in her stomach. She forced a calm tone to her words that was far removed from what she felt. “What are you looking for?”

He jerked his head up at the sound of her voice and promptly banged it on the edge of the countertop. He scrunched up his face in pain as he rubbed his hand across the sore spot. Jessica suppressed an amused chuckle, although it wasn’t easy. This certainly was not the time or the place for laughter.

A moment later he withdrew his other hand from the cabinet, his fingers wrapped firmly around the handle of the old coffeepot. He held his prize out toward her, the triumphant grin covering his face. “I was looking for this.”

She flipped the light switch on and off again, somehow needing to personally confirm that the electricity was still out. “Well…I’m glad you found it. Coffee was the foremost thing on my mind, too.” The foremost thing if she discounted the very appealing image of Dylan Russell in her bed.

Two

Dylan stood up, set the coffeepot on the counter and flashed his most engaging smile. “I’m glad we found something we could agree on. Now, where do you keep the coffee?”

“I’ll do that. I know where everything is.” Jessica opened the door of the small pantry and removed the canister.

He took it from her, his tone showing a hint of irritation at her continued derogatory attitude about his capabilities. “I know how to make coffee.” He added water to the pot, measured the coffee and lit the burner on the stove. He took two coffee mugs from the cupboard and set them on the kitchen counter. Then he stared intently at the coffeepot as if willing it to start perking.

She turned toward the bathroom. “The water heater should have done its job and produced some hot water by now. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Sure…” He glanced in her direction. “I’ll grab a quick shower when you’ve finished.” He ran his hand over the stubble that covered his chin and cheeks. “I need to shave, too.” He saw the expression on her face again, the one that said she wanted to say something but had decided against it. He returned his attention to the coffeepot, hoping she would accept that as a sign to go about her business. A couple of minutes later he heard the shower.

Dylan leaned against the kitchen counter and expelled a sigh of relief that she had gone. Other than a couple of delightful minutes when he first woke up, the entire morning had been uncomfortable and very awkward. He had turned on the old charm, but she had refused to succumb.

Jessica McGuire was obviously a very capable woman. He had no experience with women like that—smart, capable, unpretentious and down to earth. He could not imagine even one of the women he had dated over the years actually running out into the rain and mud to check on a propane tank, let alone knowing what to do with it when she got there. He had racked up lots of exciting days and memorable nights, but during the past three months he had been forced to admit, if only to himself, that in spite of everything it had been a lonely existence. It was a bitter pill to swallow and one that had not gone down easily, but he knew it was the truth.

A hard stab of despair hit him when the memory of what happened to Stanley and Rose Clarkson popped into his mind again. Where it had always been a game for him in the past, it had finally dawned on him that he was now thirty-five years old and did not have anything important to show for his life. He had lots of memorable adventures, thousands of acquaintances around the world and a net worth of several million dollars, but he didn’t have a real home, a family or any really close friends other than Justin McGuire. He didn’t have the things that truly mattered.

Jessica was so different from any other woman he had ever known. She did not hang on his every word, laugh at his jokes whether they were funny or not, jump to fulfill his every whim. In short, she made no effort to impress him or play up to his ego, and he was not sure exactly how to handle it. In time gone past he wouldn’t have given it any more thought. He would have simply moved on to someone more receptive. But now…well, she had him confused. He was sure of one thing, though. He had to do something to counter her obviously negative opinion of him. But what?

As soon as the coffee was ready he poured himself a mug and took it into the living room. He opened the front door and stared out at the rain. The cold, damp air chilled him in spite of the coffee that heated the inside of his mouth and his throat. He had to find something he could do that would show Jessica he was not as out of place at the cabin or as inept as she seemed to think. Then his gaze fell on the firewood stacked neatly on the porch.

He glanced back at the cold fireplace. That was it. There was nothing like a warm, cozy fire to break the ice. He returned his coffee mug to the kitchen counter, then set to work carrying in firewood and building a fire. He definitely knew about using a cozy fire to create a romantic mood. Or, in this case, at least a friendly mood that was devoid of the prevailing tension.

He could not stop the little grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. They could pull chairs up close to the fire and drink their morning coffee in a setting conducive to conversation. He would be able to change her abject opinion of him. Yes, indeed. He was very pleased with himself and his plan.

When he had finished with the fireplace he went to the kitchen to retrieve his coffee mug. He called to Jessica when he heard her emerge from the bathroom. “Coffee’s ready. Do you take anything in it or is black okay?” He stood poised with the pot in his hand waiting for her answer.

“Oh, my God! What have you done?” Jessica’s cry of alarm filled the air as much as the smell of smoke that quickly replaced the aroma of fresh coffee. It billowed out of the fireplace and into the living room. Her first thought said the cabin was on fire, but before she could act on that assumption she realized it was something else.

Dylan charged across the room toward the fireplace while shouting instructions. “Open the front door and a couple of windows to draw the smoke out.” He snatched the largest logs that had not yet caught fire and dropped them on the hearth. He used the poker and scattered the burning kindling around the fireplace to break up the fire’s fuel. Then he grabbed the bucket of sand he had spotted on the front porch and spread it over what was left of the fire to smother it.