SNOWFIRES (6 page)

He waited a few seconds. When he
answered she heard the laughter in his voice. "Now
that
is even less likely than hell
freezing over."

CHAPTER FOUR

Holly
wakened
to darkness broken by the eerie outside glow of the snow. A chill
met her warm skin when Trent slid from bed. She heard the rustle of
clothes as he dressed and she looked in vain for the illuminated
hands of the electric clock on the bedside table.

"I can't see the clock but it can't be time
to get up."

"According to my watch it's not quite four."
He pulled his jacket from the bed and shrugged into it. "The
power’s off and apparently so is the furnace. There's supposed to
be plenty of propane left. Better stay here till I find out."

She heard mumbled curses as he bumped his way
through the dark and unfamiliar house. In a few seconds, he
returned to the bedroom doorway.

"The kitchen range burners and bathroom
heater are still going. My guess is the furnace thermostat shut
down when the electricity went off."

She reached for her clothes and slid to the
side of the bed. "I'll get dressed and look for candles and
flashlights. Give me a few minutes in the bathroom."

"Um, until I get the generator going, there's
no water."

"None?" Still groggy from too little sleep,
her mind absorbed his meaning slowly.

“
Just whatever’s in the pressure
tank.”

"I see. Electric water pump. So, no shower
and don't flush?" She heard his sigh.

"Right. As soon as I find a flashlight, I'll
tackle the generator. In the meantime, you can go back to
sleep."

"It's too cold.” She didn’t add
without you here
. “Besides, you said
the kitchen range works. If we find candles or lanterns, I may as
well fix breakfast."

By the time Trent returned to the house,
Holly had their meal underway and the table set. He stamped the
snow from his feet then hovered near the range. With his arms
crossed and hands tucked up under his armpits, he shivered and a
low moan escaped his lips.

"It's solid ice now over the snow." He looked
down at his legs. His jeans showed dark, wet patches. He cocked his
head and smiled at her, reminding her of a small boy caught in a
mischievous act.

He chuckled. "I slipped a couple of
times."

She ducked her head and hoped she concealed
the effect of his teasing smile and laughter on her senses.
Stepping around him, she vigorously stabbed the thick slabs of ham
furnished by her grandmother. Holly cleared her throat. "Did you
have any luck with the generator?"

"Yeah. Bad news is it only works for the pump
and the barn. Good news is that at least we’ll have cold water. I
checked the animals, and everything looks okay for now. There’s
plenty of propane. Soon as my hands thaw, I'll get the furnace
going from its emergency manual control."

Holly flushed with the memory of him warming
her hands and massaging her feet the evening before. "Go into the
bathroom until you thaw. It's the warmest room in the house." She
shooed him with a spatula. "I'll call you when breakfast is ready.
The furnace can wait until after you've eaten."

He offered no protest, but tossed the
borrowed gloves and cap on the clothes dryer before he left the
room. She heard a crash.

"Ow, same damned table." More mumbled curses
followed while he made his way through the darkened house. As if
his diatribe were not sufficient, a glance at the kitchen table
told her he’d forgotten to take a candle or the halogen lantern
he’d used on his way to the well house and back.

When everything was ready, she held a candle
in the doorway to shed a soft glow across the living room before
she called him to breakfast.

Trent entered the kitchen and sniffed
appreciatively. Her pleasure at his approval surprised Holly. She
watched as he slipped the jacket from his shoulders and hung it on
the back of a kitchen chair.

"Well, well. I've never had breakfast by
candlelight."

"You'd better enjoy it. Grandma sent lots of
ham, but these are the last eggs and bread." She passed him the
toast.

"We have a source for eggs, remember?" Even
in the candlelight, she saw the pleasure in his expression. "Wow. I
haven't had real toast in years. This looks great." He sunk his
teeth into the bread.

"You mean toasted under the oven broiler
flames instead of in an electric toaster?" She hoped he skipped any
comment on the crispy corners of the heavily buttered toast.

He took a bite of the toast and closed his
eyes as he chewed. "This is great. Only thing better is cinnamon
toast."

"Oh, yes, when the sugar and cinnamon melt in
the butter and get sort of glazed?"

He looked at her with surprise and their
gazes locked. For just a few seconds time ceased to exist. Such a
small matter, but a kind of mutual understanding passed between
them. Even through their differences, they shared similar
feelings.

She flushed again at the memory of their
simultaneous dreams last night. If she had not fully wakened when
she did, they would have shared much more than a dream. Even the
memory of the pleasure his touch evoked sent tingles zinging
through her. She licked her lips and recognized the same memory in
his eyes.

He placed the toast on his plate and shifted
uncomfortably. "Yeah," he answered the question she had already
forgotten. His eyes focused on his plate as he cut his ham.
"Where’d you learn to cook?"

She reached for her juice, grateful for the
cool liquid, and took a sip before she answered. "I do most of the
cooking at home. My sister...my half-sister Angela helps me." Poor
Angie would be stuck with all of it in Holly’s absence.

“
Figured you’d have a lot of servants
to do the mundane things. I remember an older woman answered the
door when I called.”

“
Our housekeeper, Marnie Parker, lives
in. Linda and Nell come weekdays to help clean. Marnie is better at
cleaning and organizing than cooking and she’s getting on in years
so I prepare most meals.”

He glanced up with a frown. "What about your
stepmother? Doesn't she help?"

Holly carefully controlled her voice and
face. "Geneva is not exactly Suzie Homemaker. She skips breakfast
and dines out whenever possible."

"And your other half-sister...sorry, don't
mean to pry."

Echoing his words of the previous day, she
said, “Yes, you do."

When he smiled, her heart caught in her
throat. Against her will, she returned his smile. "It's okay.
Marnie’s visiting her daughter in Fort Worth. Geneva and the girls
went to her parents in Frisco for the weekend, but were due back
Sunday. If they’d stayed at home, Angie would have cooked."

"So Angie is the oldest sister?" He shrugged
his shoulder. "I spoke with your stepmother several times, but
never met her daughters...um, your sisters."

Holly would bet a week's salary Geneva had
made a pass at Trent at least one of those times. Her stepmother
saw every good looking man as a challenge. This man definitely
looked great, even in rumpled clothes and unshaven.

Yes, Geneva would have jumped at the chance
to have Trent in bed and him being ten years younger wouldn’t have
fazed her. Far from it. The age difference would only have upped
the ante for Geneva.

A wave of jealousy swept over her with a
fury. Why would the thought of Geneva with Trent bother her so?
Certainly by now she was used to her stepmother's sexual escapades.
She no longer cared as long as the woman remained discreet enough
to spare Angie and Jenny any embarrassment.

No, Geneva's little tricks no longer
concerned her. On the other hand, the thought of Trent with another
woman made her green with jealousy. That knowledge rocked her to
the core. Why did she care who this man slept with? She hated him
didn’t she?

Shaken, she couldn’t look at him when she
answered. "Jenny’s nineteen and very like her mother in looks and
temperament. Angie’s almost eighteen."

"I see. Are these girls in school?" His frown
remained.

Maybe he really did see, but she doubted he
realized even a part of their complicated family or their financial
situation. "Jenny attends Southern Methodist University. Angie will
graduate from Highland Park High this spring and start SMU in the
fall."

She didn't add that Jenny's tuition was
compliments of Grandpa Grayson, who was not even related to Jenny.
He had sworn not to lift one finger to help Geneva, whom he
despised, or contribute one penny to the upkeep of Geneva and her
daughters. Only after repeated pleas from Holly had he agreed to
fund her half-sisters' education.

Trent's frown disappeared to be replaced by
an expression as guarded as her own. "Does either girl work?"

"Geneva prefers the girls keep their
calendars clear for social events." Not that Jenny had ever asked,
but Angie wanted to work after school some days and on weekends.
She had even landed a job at a high-end chain store in Galleria
Mall. Holly could still hear the horror in Geneva's voice.

"What will people think, my daughter working
like a common shop girl? I won't have it, I tell you. Oh, no. Your
job is to learn to be a good hostess, to mingle with the right
people, to prepare yourself for your place in society as the wife
of a suitable man."

Angie had stood her ground for a while, but
proved no match against Geneva and Jenny united. In spite of her
attempts to be practical, the years of her mother's nagging
reminders of the importance of social position took root in Angie,
too. But Angie still tried to cut costs—when she remembered.

Holly thought of the ruined boots, charged to
a store account she would have to pay. Paying for gifts she
received from her sisters and stepmother dampened every holiday’s
pleasure. She sighed.

Trent's voice cut through bitter memories of
her own battle about a career. "So, you're allowed to work, but
they're not?"

She tilted her head and gave him a rueful
smile. He would have been aghast at the lengthy battle her decision
had waged. "I pled my case years ago. Since I'm the oldest and
there are no male heirs, I convinced Geneva and Dad I needed to
carry on in the family business. Besides, Dad needed my help."

"Only now it's no longer just a family
business, is it?" He finished his last bite of toast and leaned
back.

She rose and stacked the plates. "No, but I'm
still a part of the company. I own fifteen percent and, unless
you've decided differently, I'm still the VP of Human
Resources."

Due to inheriting part of her mother’s
shares, Holly thanked heaven she owned an additional ten percent
instead of only the five she and each of her half-sisters inherited
from Grandfather Tucker. Voting with Grandpa Grayson’s thirty-five
percent gave the two of them controlling interest. She didn’t
understand why Grandpa wasn’t with her on this project of Trent’s.
She’d tried to convince her grandfather, but he insisted he wanted
to see how Trent worked out as CEO.

Trent stood and stretched like a small child
just rising from bed. "You'll have to be as resourceful as humanly
possible today. The furnace is my first priority. The animals have
to be cared for soon, but heat for us is first."

She turned on the spigot, relieved when cold
water flowed. "At least we have water. I suppose the thermostat on
the water heater is electric?”

“
Yep.”

“
I’ll heat some water on the stove to
wash the dishes. Later, I'll do the same for us each to have a
sponge bath." And he could shave.

A glance at the dark stubble that made him
look even more like a brigand made her wonder how it would feel to
have his face against hers. Would the stubble scratch or merely
titillate? If he nuzzled her as he had last night, would his day's
growth of whiskers create a different sensation?

She’d never kissed a man with facial hair.
Her curiosity grew. Would it tickle or prickle? How would he look
with a full beard? Probably even more like the pirate of his
reputation. A picture flashed into her mind of him swaggering on
the deck of a ship with a full black beard, parrot on his shoulder,
and a cutlass in one hand.

His voice cut through her thoughts. "Aha, I
thought I remembered some tools by the washing machine." He carried
a tool chest in one hand. "I saw a box of matches in the cupboard
near the stove yesterday." He leaned across her to retrieve the box
and his arm brushed against her breast.

His touch caught her off guard and she
stepped back. Her gaze met his and she tried to judge if his action
had been deliberate.

He appeared frozen in place. “Uh, sorry,
Holly, um—“ He shook his head and slipped the matches into his
shirt pocket. With that, he grabbed the lantern and hurried from
the room.

Her breast tingled and the sensation spiraled
to her core. What had happened to her? Needs she’d thought firmly
under control had suddenly flared up like a forest fire. Darn the
terrible man, he had no right to be so enticing.

CHAPTER FIVE

Trent
muttered
under his breath as he removed the grate from the floor furnace and
propped it against the wall. He sprawled his body across the floor
and poked his head down the hole in the floorboards.

He heard Holly. “Do you know what you’re
doing?”

“
No.” The sound echoed so he raised his
head. “I’m trying to remember anything I’ve ever heard about
furnaces, but the contraption looks as foreign to me as the inside
of a jet engine. If memory serves me right, one of the foster homes
I was in had this kind of heat. There’s a manual valve for
occasions like this.” But where?