Wild Rain (9 page)

FIVE

Reese watched her narrow hips and slight fanny swing down the hallway in front of him. Realizing he’d slowed down just so he could watch her go the entire length of the hall, he averted his gaze—and his thoughts—to set about making final preparations.

Once he had tossed the cushions into the storage closet, he went back down the hall to the front bedroom. Using the tip of the mop handle, he tapped the door open. Then stopped dead on the threshold.

Rationally, the sight of that same slight fanny stuck up in the air as she knelt on all fours while yanking at the far corner of the light blue linen shouldn’t have affected him in the least. God, he should have had the beer warm. Five or six of them, at least. It was obvious he was losing his edge anyway. What possible harm could alcohol do to his
system if one glance at her scrawny little butt had him wondering just how soft that mattress was?

“Come on, you tight little …”

The rest of her entreaty degenerated into swearing mixed with heated grunting as she pulled on the recalcitrant sheet. Damn, but she made him want to smile.

“Where’d you learn to swear like that, anyway?” he asked as he hopped into the room and grabbed the opposite corner.

“Alaska.” She grunted and gave a mighty tug at the same moment Reese freed the other corner, sending her sprawling back into the center of the bed with the linens tangled between her legs.

It was all Reese could do not to crawl right in on top of her.

Well, hell, he thought, irritated with his body’s insistent response to her, maybe he should just do it. Do it and get past it. He was probably going to die in the storm anyway. Maybe that was the problem. His body sensed the end was near and was simply demanding one last go round.

Jillian glanced up and caught his look, then hastily wadded up the sheet and tossed it to the floor. The speed with which she scrambled off the bed had him wondering if he’d spoken his thoughts out loud.

It was just as well she put an end to his wild notion before he gave it any serious consideration. He stifled a sigh as he bent at the waist to heave the mattress to one side. If he was going to come and
go in one day, he’d like to leave with a big satisfied grin on his face.

He wasn’t sure Jillian had the proper equipment—or experience—to give him that eternal smile.

He was distracted from his thoughts when she bent low over the mattress directly across from him to help shove. The position gave him a clear view straight down the front of her shirt.

Well, what do you know, he noted, taking in the view without a flicker of remorse, she did have boobs after all.

“You gonna stand there all day staring down the front of my shirt or are we going to move this mattress?”

Reese looked up at her, expecting the harsh expression her voice indicated he’d find. It was there. But mixed in with the flippant I-could-give-a-damn look was a thread of pained vulnerability that shook him up more than he cared to admit. Didn’t she know survivors never revealed their weaknesses? Especially to a man like him?

His gaze dropped from her tempest-filled eyes, past her pressed-together lips, then with a will of its own, on down to the peep show below.

But it was when he noticed the white-knuckled grip she had on the mattress pad that he felt his face heat. He’d been ogling her like a man sizing up the interior of a new car, debating on whether to take it for a test drive.

Which was perfectly in character for him. So
why was he blushing for the first time in his thirty-three years?

He abruptly turned his attention back to the task at hand. He’d obviously overtaxed his thigh injury. The sweat beginning to bead on his brow, his heart’s slight acceleration. All signs he needed to rest.

He swore under his breath as he took a good hold on the mattress. Not only had she managed to irritate him more than any female he’d ever met, she was also turning him into a compulsive liar. And a damn lousy one at that.

With a grunt and a vicious tug, he pulled the thick pad half off the bed, barely hopping back in time to keep from falling.

“What happened to a three count?” Jillian grumbled as she crawled back off the bed he’d just yanked her half across.

“Stop griping and help me get this thing upright.”

She slanted him a tight look, but thankfully did as he said without comment.

Once they’d maneuvered the mattress out into the front room, Reese motioned her to change ends. “You pull, I’ll push.”

“How about I pull, and you and your attitude go to hell.”

She’d muttered the words, but he heard her nonetheless. All things considered, he should have let it pass. After all, her curvy little butt wasn’t the only one on the line, and time was short. Still, he
leaned his end of the mattress against the wall and hobbled around to face her.

“You ought to be on your knees thanking God or whatever you believe in that I’m stuck here with you.”

She actually had the nerve to roll her eyes at him. If she hadn’t been using all her strength to keep her end of the mattress from crashing to the floor, he wasn’t too sure she wouldn’t have decked him. Or kneed him.

For some reason the sight of her struggling with the ungainly hunk of bedding made him even angrier. “What the hell did you think you were going to do all alone out here? Huh? What on earth possessed you to try and ride this thing out?”

“Yell at me later, okay? This thing is about a quarter century old, long before anyone invented lightweight coils.”

He wanted to hit something. No, he wanted to strangle something. Someone. He growled at her, then hobbled back to his end without bothering to see if what he’d said had any effect on her. He knew better.

“Why are we doing this anyway?”

He let his head drop to rest on the thick width braced between his hands. “We’re going to bend this thing into the storage room so that it covers our heads. That way, when your roof caves in, we’ll have a passing fair chance of not getting our skulls bashed in.” He’d made the entire statement through clenched teeth. He raised his head and angled
it to one side so he could see her. “Now can we get on with it? If I wanted to die on a mattress, it sure as hell wouldn’t be this way.”

Jillian ducked back behind the safety of her end of the mattress. Her face flamed even as she damned herself for letting him get to her. Her lips twisted in a rueful grin. Yeah, she imagined she was the very last type of woman a man like Reese would fantasize about spending his last minutes on earth with. To her eternal shame she couldn’t say the same thing about him.

She vented her frustration on the task at hand. In less than a minute they had the mattress in front of the door. She stepped into the closet and quickly arranged the pillows in a framework around the edges of the room.

“No, pile them in the middle. We’ve got to move the boxes around the edges as support.”

Jillian understood his plan. She quickly began rearranging boxes in stacks at each corner of the room, not bothering to tell Reese to sit down. She was only half surprised that his thigh wound and the necessary mop-handle crutch were barely noticeable impediments as he efficiently arranged twice as many boxes as she had in half the time.

Of course, if she’d stop gawking at him … his shoulder muscles and biceps flexing as he shoved boxes around, the way his jeans cupped his nice, tight … Sighing in disgust, she heaved the last box into place, then stood and wiped her damp palms on her jeans.

“Okay, what next?”

“Round up as much stuff from the kitchen as we can.”

They were back in the storage closet in under ten minutes. Jillian stowed the lanterns and flashlights where she could reach them. Reese shoved the cooler they’d filled with the contents of the fridge off to one side, then ducked back into the hall and started shoving bottled water through the door. She stacked them neatly along another wall.

Once everything had been moved in, she turned in a slow circle and surveyed the space. The boxes were stacked about four feet high at the corners, three feet in between, with a row that would form a tower in the middle once the mattress was inside.

Even with the water, cooler, and lanterns, they had plenty of space, she noted with satisfaction.

A loud grunt had her spinning around.

“A little help here?”

She instantly moved to the door and grabbed one side of the mattress Reese was shoving into the room. She really liked the way he said the word “here” she mused as she struggled to make the thick pile of foam bend the way she wanted it to. Something about a man with an accent—

“Not that way!”

—Made her want to commit murder. “Which way would his highness like the slave girl to move it?” she asked with false obeisance.

“Sweetheart, if you were my slave, the last thing you’d need to ask me is how to move it.”

Jillian clamped her mouth shut. At least he spared her a leering grin. Probably too busy trying not to laugh. She hoped he’d bust a gut. Reese grunted as he squeezed into the room. The mattress was bent almost in half, with the curve butting against the top of the doorframe.

“I’m going to wedge my body back into the fold and drag it forward,” he instructed, still studying the doorway. “You face me and pull the edges. As it comes into the room, spread the sides out. Then we can prop one side up at a time.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she responded. Reese apparently didn’t need her approval as he was already cramming his broad shoulders into the tight fold of foam.

Jillian was a foot away when it occurred to her that, initially at least, in order to grab the edges and pull, she’d have to all but thrust her chest into Reese’s face.

Meager problem though it might seem, the prospect didn’t thrill her. Telling herself he’d probably never even notice, she moved toward him, waiting until he ducked his head before she grabbed hold as best she could.

“Okay, pull.”

Determined to get this over with as quickly as possible, Jillian put her back into it and yanked hard. Unfortunately she caught Reese off balance and along with a foot of mattress, she got Reese
right where she didn’t want him. Between her breasts.

“Whatever happened to a three count?”

It took a second for his muffled words to register. She was too busy praying her nipples wouldn’t betray her reaction to having Reese’s lips pressed in their near vicinity.

“Jillian?”

She wasn’t certain, but she thought she might have groaned. When he spoke, the words vibrated against her skin. His lips were entirely too close to her …

“Mmmm?”

“If it were up to me,” he said calmly into her shirt, “I’d spend the next several hours right here. But if we’re going to survive the storm, you’re gonna have to move back.”

“Huh?” Then his words penetrated her suddenly fogged brain. What in the world had she been doing?

Standing there reveling in the feel of Reese Braedon’s lips on her chest, was what she’d been doing.

Well jeez, a tiny voice inside her head retorted, it was probably the only chance she’d get.

“Jillian!”

Dear Lord, she was still doing it! Mortified, wishing Ivan would descend and pluck her off the face of the earth, Jillian leapt backward. Unfortunately, she also let go of the mattress.

“Holy mother of—” Reese’s curse was cut short
when he catapulted into the room, the mattress on his back adding unwanted velocity.

“Reese! Look out! Slow—oof!”

In the next instant Jillian no longer had to worry about the secret thrill of having Reese’s face pressed between her breasts. It was nothing compared to the feel of the full length of his hard muscled body on top of hers. Shoulder to belly to toe contact.

He lifted up on one elbow. She clenched her eyes shut to keep from seeing his expression, certain it was only going to make the awkward moment worse.

“You okay?”

He hadn’t shouted at her. He wasn’t swearing. In fact, he sounded downright … sincere. She cracked open one eye.

“Fine,” she managed to whisper. “Pillows broke my fall.” She swallowed. “You?”

“Well, this is the first time I’ve ever pinned a woman under a mattress.”

He wasn’t smiling at her. But his tone was gentle. The only time she’d heard that tone from him had been those few dark moments in the pantry.

“Why did you hug me?” The question just popped out.

Reese hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d landed on top of her. “This isn’t hugging. This is called breaking a fall.”

“No, I mean in the pantry. Earlier.” Using all of her nerve, she turned her head so their noses
almost touched, her gaze locked dead on his. “Why did you turn the light off?”

Whatever light had penetrated his normally lifeless blue eyes blinked out. Jillian felt his body tighten, until he felt like stone on top of her.

“Never mind,” she said quickly, damning herself for giving in even that small fraction. “Can you move?” she asked brusquely. “Is your leg hurt?”

His answer came after a lengthy pause. “I’ll live. I’m going to push up on my hands and raise the mattress. Slide out and scoot over to the boxes we saved for the middle support and shove one over toward me.”