Times Change (10 page)

Pride had always been her strongest suit. “Why should I be?”

“Good question. You wondered if I was—” he gestured again “—unbalanced. But you let me stay. You even fed me.”

The uncharacteristic gentleness in his voice made her uncomfortable, “I’d probably have done the same for a sick dog. It’s no big deal.”

“I think it is.” When she pushed away from the table, he rose with her. “Sunbeam.”

“I told you not to—”

“There are times when it’s irresistible. Thank you.”

She was more than uncomfortable now. She was unnerved. “It’s okay. Forget it.”

“I don’t think so.” Gently his thumb stroked over her knuckles. “Tell me, if I had said I was in trouble, would you have helped?”

She tossed her head carelessly. “I don’t know. It would depend.”

“I think you would.” He took both her hands and held them until she was still. “Simple kindness, especially to someone away from home, is very precious and very rare. I won’t forget.”

She didn’t want to feel close to him. To be drawn to him. But when he looked at her like this, with such quiet tenderness, she went weak. There was nothing more frightening than weakness.

“Fine.” Fighting panic, she shook her hands free. “Then you can return the favor and do the dishes. I’m going for a walk.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t—”

“You said you weren’t afraid of me.”

“I’m not.” She let out a long-suffering breath. “All right, then, come on.”

The moment she opened the door, the cold stole her breath. The wind had died down and the sun was fighting through the layers of high clouds, but the air was like brittle ice.

It would clear her head, Sunny told herself. For a moment in the kitchen, with him looking so intently into her eyes, she’d felt as though . . . She didn’t know what she’d felt. She didn’t want to.

It was enough to be free to walk, though the snow was up to her knees. Another hour of confinement and she’d have gone mad. Perhaps that was what had happened to her in there, with him. A moment of madness.

“It’s wild, isn’t it?”

She stood in what had been the backyard and looked out on acres of solid white. The dying wind moaned through the trees and sent powdery snow drifting.

“I’ve always liked it best in the winter. Because if you’re going to be alone you might as well be completely alone. I forgot the bird food. Hang on.”

She turned, wading through the snow. He thought she moved more like a dancer now than an athlete. Graceful despite the encumbrances. It worried him to realize that he’d been content to watch her for hours. In a moment she was trudging back, dragging an enormous burlap sack.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to feed the birds.” She was out of breath but still moving. “This time of year they need all the help they can get.”

He shook his head. “Let me do it.”

“I’m very strong.”

“Yes, I know. Let me do it anyway.”

He took the sack, braced, put his back into it and began to haul it across the snow. It gathered snow—and weight—with every step.

“I thought you weren’t a nature lover.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d let them starve.” And she’d promised Libby.

He hauled the bag another foot. “Couldn’t you just dump it out?”

“If a thing’s worth doing—”

“It’s worth doing well. Yeah, I’ve heard that one.”

She stopped by a tree and, standing on a stump, began to fill a big wood-and-glass house with seed from the sack. “There we go.” She brushed seed from her hands. “Want me to carry it back?”

“I’ll do it. Why any self-respecting bird would want to hang around here in the middle of nowhere I can’t understand.”

“We’re here,” she called out as he hauled the sack across the snow.

“I can’t understand that, either.”

She grinned at his back, and then, not being one to waste an opportunity, she began to ball snow. She had a good-size pile of ammunition when he came out again, and she sent the first one sailing smack into his forehead.

“Bull’s-eye.”

He wiped snow out of his eyes. “You’ve already lost at one game.”

“That was poker.” She picked up another ball, weighed it. “This is war. And war takes skill, not luck.”

He dodged the next throw, swearing when he nearly overbalanced, then caught the next one in the chest. Dead center.

“I should tell you I was the top pitcher on my softball team in college. I still hold the record for strikeouts.”

The next one smacked into his shoulder, but he was prepared. In a move she had to admire, he came up with a stinging fastball that zoomed in right on the letters. He’d pitched a few himself, but he didn’t think he would mention that he’d been captain of the intergalactic softball team three years running.

“Not bad, Hornblower.” She sent out two, catching him with the second on the dodge. She had a mean curve, and she was pleased to note that she hadn’t lost her touch. Snow splattered all over his coat. One particularly well-thrown ball nearly took off his hat.

Before her pile began to dwindle, she had him at eight hits to two and was getting cocky. It didn’t occur to her that he had closed half the distance between them.

When he took one full in the face, she doubled over with laughter. Then she shrieked when he caught her under the arms and lifted her off her feet.

“Good aim, bad strategy,” he commented before he dropped her face first in the snow.

She rolled over, spitting out snow. “I still won.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

With a good-natured shrug, she held out a hand. He hesitated. She smiled. The moment he clasped her hand, she threw her weight back and had him flying into the drift beside her.

“What does it look like now?”

“Hand-to-hand.”

He grasped her by the shoulders. They only sank deeper. Snow worked its way, cold and wet, down the collar of his borrowed coat. He found it, and the way her body twisted and turned against his, impossibly stimulating. She was laughing, kicking up snow as she tried to pin him on the icy mat. Breathless, she managed a half nelson, and she nearly had the call when she felt herself flying over his shoulder.

She landed with a thump, half buried, and lay there for a second, dragging in air. “Nice move,” she panted. Then she dived at him again. She scissored, dipped and managed to slither out of his hold. Working fast, she twisted until she was half-sitting, half-lying on his back. Using her weight, she dunked his face in the snow.

“Say uncle.”

He said something a great deal ruder, and she laughed so hard she nearly lost her grip.

“Come on, J.T., a real man admits it when he’s licked.”

He could have beaten her, he thought in disgust as his face numbed. But twice when he’d tried for a hold his hand had skimmed over particularly interesting curves. It had broken his concentration.

“Two out of three,” he mumbled.

“If we try for two out of three, we’ll freeze to death.” Taking his grunt for agreement, she helped him turn over. “Not bad for a scientist.”

“If we took it indoors, you wouldn’t have a chance.” But he was winded.

“The point is, I came out on top.”

He lifted a brow. “In a manner of speaking.”

She only grinned. “I wish you could see your face. Even your eyelashes are white.”

“So are yours.” He lifted a gloved hand that was already coated with snow and rubbed it on her face.

“Cheat.”

“Whatever works.” Exhausted, he let his hand drop again. He didn’t know the last time he’d been taken—or when he’d enjoyed it so much.

“We’d better get some more wood.” She braced a hand to get up, slipped and landed with a thump on his chest. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’ve got a few ribs left.”

His arms had come around her. His face was close. It was a mistake, she knew, to stay this way, even for a moment. But she didn’t move. And then she didn’t think. It was the most natural thing in the world for her to lower her lips to his.

They were cool, and firm, and everything she wanted. Kissing him was like diving headfirst into a cold mountain lake. Thrilling, exhilarating. And risky. She heard her own sound of pleasure, quick and quiet, before she threw what was left of caution to the winds and deepened the kiss.

She winded him. Weakened him. Loss of control meant nothing. Control was meant to be given up in passion. But this . . . this was different. As her lips heated his, he felt both will and strength drain away. There was a mist in his brain as thick and as white as the snow they lay in. And he could think of nothing and no one but her.

The women who had come before her were nothing. Shadows. Phantoms. When her mouth slid agilely over his he understood that there would be no women after her. She had, in one heady instant, taken over his life. Surrounded it, invaded it. Consumed it.

Shaken, he brought his hands to her shoulders, prepared, determined, to hurl her aside. But his fingers only tightened, and his need only grew.

It was like a rage in him. She could feel it. It was building in her, as well. A fury. A driving hunger. And his mouth, his mouth alone, was dragging her over the rocky border between heaven and hell. So close, she thought, that she could feel the flames licking at her skin, tempting her to tumble recklessly into the fire. For it would be all brimstone and heat with him. And she was afraid, very afraid, that she would never be satisfied with less.

She lifted her head, an inch, then two. She was amazed to find her mind spinning and her breath uneven. It had only been a kiss, she reminded herself. A kiss, however passionate, didn’t alter lives. Still, she wanted distance, and quickly, so that she could convince herself she was the same person she had been before it.

“We really have to get that wood,” she managed. Suddenly she was terrified that she wouldn’t be able to stand. It wouldn’t do her ego a bit of good to have to crawl back to the house. Cautiously she rolled away from him. Then, using every ounce of will she possessed, she dragged herself to her feet. She made a production out of brushing the snow from her coat and wished he would say something. Anything.

“Look.”

Wary, she turned. But he was only pointing to the feeder, where a few hardy birds were enjoying breakfast. It helped her relax a little. “Well, I’ve done my duty by them.” Because she was suddenly and brutally aware of the cold, she gave herself a quick shake. “I’m going in.”

She waded across the snow. They didn’t speak again as they gathered wood, as they tromped snow from their boots or as they carried the logs to the woodbox. Sunny banked down an urge for a steaming cup of tea. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to think.

“I’m going up for a shower.” Feeling miserably awkward, she watched him toss logs on the fire.

“Fine.”

She made a face at his back. “Fine.”

He waited until he heard her climb the stairs before he straightened. The woman was scrambling his brain, he decided. It was highly probable that he was still disoriented from the trip. That was why she was having such a profound effect on him. All he needed was a little more time to adjust. Data or no data, it would be best if he took that time aboard ship.

He took a long, thoughtful look at the cabin. Still, he’d promised to do the dishes. It would be an interesting experience to try his hand at it.

Upstairs, Sunny stripped off layers of clothes, letting each item fall carelessly to the floor. Naked, she turned the shower on, letting it run until the hot water was steaming. She winced as she stepped under it, then let out a long, lazy sigh.

Better, she told herself. It was certainly a better way of getting her blood moving than kissing Jacob. No, it wasn’t.

She laid her forehead against the wall of the shower and with her eyes closed let the water rain over her.

Maybe she’d been a little crazy when she’d kissed him, but she’d never felt more alive. She couldn’t blame him, not this time. She had made the move. She had looked into his eyes and known he was the one.

Yet how could he be? She barely knew him, was far from convinced she trusted him. Half the time she was sure she disliked him. But . . . But, she thought again. The other half of the time she was afraid she was falling in love with him.

It was completely irrational, undeniably foolish and totally genuine. All she had to do was figure out what to do about it.

Pouring shampoo into her palm, she tried to think. She was a practical woman. As far back as her memory took her, she had been able to take care of herself. Problems, even emotional ones, were meant to be surmounted. If she was falling in love, she would deal with it. The trick was not to do anything rash.

Caution, common sense and control, Sunny decided. She lathered her skin lavishly. She would keep a practical distance from Jacob until she got to know him better, until she was more certain of her feelings. It made perfect sense. More confident now, she turned under the spray and let the water sluice the suds from her.

Once she had determined her own feelings, she would work on his. There was no denying he was a strange sort of man. Interesting, certainly, but different in ways she had yet to fully figure out.

She could handle him. After turning off the water, she slicked a hand down her hair. She had always been able to handle men very satisfactorily. In this case, she just had to handle herself first.

Satisfied, she kicked her clothes out of the way. Dry, she wrapped a towel around her and stepped out into the hall.

***

He’d enjoyed doing the dishes. It was just the sort of mindless chore he’d needed to relax his mind. And his body. The plastic squeeze bottle marked dishwashing liquid claimed to contain real lemon juice. He took a sniff of his hands and found the lingering scent pleasant. As soon as he got back to the ship he was going to make a report on it.

And the task had given him time to put his reaction to Sunny in perspective. Being attracted to her was natural, even elemental. But he was intelligent enough to control certain primal urges. Particularly when acting on them would cause incredible complications.

She was beautiful, desirable, but she was also impossible. The idea of pursuit had been a bad one. He was well aware now that a physical encounter with her would not be simple. It could only be problematic. He would solve the problem for both of them by gathering up his things and spending the bulk of his time on his ship. When Cal came back he would convince his brother that he had made a mistake. Then they would go home, where they belonged. And that would be the end of it.