“Use the Mercedes. Just call the ranch and Nev will have a couple of men bring it over. I wouldn’t trust that piece of junk you’ve been driving to get you to the grocery store and back.”
It could have been a gesture between friends, a neighborly loan of a car, even something a lover might do, but Michelle sensed that John intended it to mean more than that. He was maneuvering her into his home as his mistress, and if she accepted the loan of the car, she would be just that much more dependent on him. Yet she was almost cornered into accepting because she had no other way of getting to Tampa, and her own sense of duty insisted that she sign those papers as soon as possible, to clear the debt.
He was waiting for her answer, and finally she couldn’t hesitate any longer. “All right.” Her surrender was quiet, almost inaudible.
He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until his muscles relaxed. The thought that she might try driving to Tampa in that old wreck had been worrying him since he’d gotten the call from Miami. His mother had gotten herself into financial hot water again, and, distasteful as it was to him, he wouldn’t let her starve. No matter what, she was his mother. Loyalty went bone deep with him, a lot deeper than aggravation.
He’d even thought of taking Michelle with him, just to have her near. But Miami was too close to Palm Beach; too many of her old friends were there, bored, and just looking for some lark to spice up their lives. It was possible that some jerk with more money than brains would make an offer she couldn’t refuse. He had to credit her with trying to make a go of the place, but she wasn’t cut out for the life and must be getting tired of working so hard and getting nowhere. If someone offered to pay her fare, she might turn her back and walk away, back to the jet-set life-style she knew so well. No matter how slim the chance of it happening, any chance at all was too much for him. No way would he risk losing her now.
For the first time in his life he felt insecure about a woman. She wanted him, but was it enough to keep her with him? For the first time in his life, it was important. The hunger he felt for her was so deep that he wouldn’t be satisfied until she was living under his roof and sleeping in his bed, where he could take care of her and pamper her as much as he wanted.
Yes, she wanted him. He could please her in bed; he could take care of her. But she didn’t want him as much as he wanted her. She kept resisting him, trying to keep a distance between them even now, after they’d shared a night and a bed, and a joining that still shook him with its power. It seemed as if every time he tried to bring her closer, she backed away a little more.
He reached out and touched her cheek, stroking his fingertips across her skin and feeling the patrician bone structure that gave her face such an angular, haughty look. “Miss me while I’m gone,” he said, his tone making it a command.
A small wry smile tugged at the corners of her wide mouth. “Okay.”
“Damn it,” he said mildly. “You’re not going to boost my ego, are you?”
“Does it need it?”
“Where you’re concerned, yeah.”
“That’s a little hard to believe. Is missing someone a two-way street, or will you be too busy in Miami to bother?”
“I’ll be busy, but I’ll bother anyway.”
“Be careful.” She couldn’t stop the words. They were the caring words that always went before a trip, a magic incantation to keep a loved one safe. The thought of not seeing him made her feel cold and empty. Miss him? He had no idea how much, that the missing was a razor, already slashing at her insides.
He wanted to kiss her, but not with his men watching. Instead he nodded an acknowledgment and turned his horse away to rejoin Nev. The two men rode together for a time, and Michelle could see Nev give an occasional nod as he listened to John’s instructions. Then John was gone, kicking the gray into a long ground-eating stride that quickly took horse and rider out of sight.
Despite the small, lost feeling she couldn’t shake, Michelle didn’t allow herself to brood over the next several days. There was too much going on, and even though John’s men had taken over the ranching chores, there were still other chores that, being cowboys, they didn’t see. If it didn’t concern cattle or horses, then it didn’t concern them. Now Michelle found other chores to occupy her time. She painted the porch, put up a new post for the mailbox and spent as much time as she could with the men.
The ranch seemed like a ranch again, with all the activity, dust, smells and curses filling the air. The cattle were dipped, the calves branded, the young bulls clipped. Once Michelle would have wrinkled her nose in distaste, but now she saw the activity as new signs of life, both in the ranch and in herself.
On the second day Nev drove the Mercedes over while one of the other men brought an extra horse for Nev to ride. Michelle couldn’t quite look the man in the eye as she took the keys from him, but he didn’t seem to see anything unusual about her driving John’s car.
After driving the pickup truck for so long, the power and responsiveness of the Mercedes felt odd. She was painfully cautious on the long drive to Tampa. It was hard to imagine that she’d ever been blasé about the expensive, sporty cars she’d driven over the years, but she could remember her carelessness with the white Porsche her father had given her on her eighteenth birthday. The amount of money represented by the small white machine hadn’t made any impression on her.
Everything was relative. Then, the money spent for the Porsche hadn’t been much. If she had that much now, she would feel rich.
She signed the papers at the lawyer’s office, then immediately made the drive back, not wanting to have the Mercedes out longer than necessary.
The rest of the week was calm, though she wished John would call to let her know when he would be back. The two days had stretched into five, and she couldn’t stop the tormenting doubts that popped up in unguarded moments. Was he with another woman? Even though he was down there on business, she knew all too well how women flocked to him, and he wouldn’t be working twenty-four hours a day. He hadn’t made any commitments to her; he was free to take other women out if he wanted. No matter how often she repeated those words to herself, they still hurt.
But if John didn’t call, at least Roger didn’t, either. For a while she’d been afraid he would begin calling regularly, but the reassuring silence continued. Maybe something or someone else had taken his attention. Maybe his business concerns were taking all his time. Whatever it was, Michelle was profoundly grateful.
The men didn’t come over on Friday morning. The cattle were grazing peacefully in the east pasture; all the fencing had been repaired; everything had been taken care of. Michelle put a load of clothing in the washer, then spent the morning cutting the grass again. She was soaked with sweat when she went inside at noon to make a sandwich for lunch.
It was oddly silent in the house, or maybe it was just silent in comparison to the roar of the lawn mower. She needed water. Breathing hard, she turned on the faucet to let the water get cold while she got a glass from the cabinet, but only a trickle of water ran out, then stopped altogether. Frowning, Michelle turned the faucet off, then on again. Nothing happened. She tried the hot water. Nothing.
Groaning, she leaned against the sink. That was just what she needed, for the water pump to break down.
It took only a few seconds for the silence of the house to connect with the lack of water, and she slowly straightened. Reluctantly she reached for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing.
The electricity had been cut off.
That was why it was so quiet. The refrigerator wasn’t humming; the clocks weren’t ticking; the ceiling fan was still.
Breathing raggedly, she sank into a chair. She had forgotten the last notice. She had put it in a drawer and forgotten it, distracted by John and the sudden activity around the ranch. Not that any excuse was worth a hill of beans, she reminded herself. Not that she’d had the money to pay the
bill even if she had remembered it.
She had to be practical. People had lived for thousands of years without electricity, so she could, too. Cooking was out; the range top, built-in oven and microwave were all electric, but she wasn’t the world’s best cook anyway, so that wasn’t critical. She could eat without cooking. The refrigerator was empty except for milk and some odds and ends. Thinking about the milk reminded her how thirsty she was, so she poured a glass of the cold milk and swiftly returned the carton to the refrigerator.
There was a kerosene lamp and a supply of candles in the pantry, so she would have light. The most critical item was water. She had to have water to drink and bathe. At least the cattle could drink from the shallow creek that snaked across the east pasture, so she wouldn’t have to worry about them.
There was an old well about a hundred yards behind the house, but she didn’t know if it had gone dry or simply been covered when the other well had been drilled. Even if the well was still good, how would she get the water up? There was a rope in the barn, but she didn’t have a bucket.
She did have seventeen dollars, though, the last of her cash. If the well had water in it, she’d coax the old truck down to the hardware store and buy a water bucket.
She got a rope from the barn, a pan from the kitchen and trudged the hundred yards to the old well. It was almost overgrown with weeds and vines that she had to clear away while keeping an uneasy eye out for snakes. Then she tugged the heavy wooden cover to the side and dropped the pan into the well, letting the rope slip lightly through her hands. It wasn’t a deep well; in only a second or two there was a distinct splash, and she began hauling the pan back up. When she got it to the top, a half cup of clear water was still in the pan despite the banging it had received, and Michelle sighed with relief. Now all she had to do was get the bucket.
By the time dusk fell, she was convinced that the pioneers had all been as muscular as the Incredible Hulk; every muscle in her body ached. She had drawn a bucket of water and walked the distance back to the house so many times she didn’t want to think about it. The electricity had been cut off while the washer had been in the middle of its cycle, so she had to rinse the clothes out by hand and hang them to dry. She had to have water to drink. She had to have water to bathe. She had to have water to flush the toilet. Modern conveniences were damned inconvenient without electricity.
But at least she was too tired to stay up long and waste the candles. She set a candle in a saucer on the bedside table, with matches alongside in case she woke up during the night. She was asleep almost as soon as she stretched out between the sheets.
The next morning she ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast, then cleaned out the refrigerator, so she wouldn’t have to smell spoiled food. The house was oddly oppressive, as if the life had gone out of it, so she spent most of the day outdoors, watching the cattle graze, and thinking.
She would have to sell the beef cattle now, rather than wait to fatten them on grain. She wouldn’t get as much for them, but she had to have money now. It had been foolish of her to let things go this far. Pride had kept her from asking for John’s advice and help in arranging the sale; now she had to ask him. He would know who to contact and how to transport the cattle. The money would keep her going, allow her to care for the remainder of the herd until spring, when she would have more beef ready to sell. Pride was one thing, but she had carried it to the point of stupidity.
Still, if this had happened ten days earlier she wouldn’t even have considered asking John’s advice. She had been so completely isolated from human trust that any overture would have made her back away, rather than entice her closer. But John hadn’t let her back away; he’d come after her, taken care of things over her protests, and very gently, thoroughly seduced her. A seed of trust had been sown that was timidly growing, though it frightened her to think of relying on someone else, even for good advice.
It was sultry that night, the air thick with humidity. The heat added by the candles and kerosene lamp made it unbearable inside, and though she bathed in the cool water she had hauled from the well, she immediately felt sticky again. It was too early and too hot to sleep, so finally she went out on the porch in search of a breeze.
She curled up in a wicker chair padded with overstuffed cushions, sighing in relief as a breath of wind fanned her face. The night sounds of crickets and frogs surrounded her with a hypnotic lullaby, and before long her eyelids were drooping. She never quite dozed, but sank into a peaceful lethargy where time passed unnoticed. It might have been two hours or half an hour later when she was disturbed by the sound of a motor and the crunching of tires on gravel; headlights flashed into her eyes just as she opened them, making her flinch and turn her face from the blinding light. Then the lights were killed and the motor silenced. She sat up straighter, her heart beginning to pound as a tall, broad-shouldered man got out of the truck and slammed the door. The starlight wasn’t bright, but she didn’t need light to identify him when every cell in her body tingled with awareness.
Despite his boots, he didn’t make a lot of noise as he came up the steps. “John,” she murmured, her voice only a low whisper of sound, but he felt the vibration and turned toward her chair.
She was completely awake now, and becoming indignant. “Why didn’t you call? I waited to hear from you—”
“I don’t like telephones,” he muttered as he walked toward her. That was only part of the reason. Talking to her on the telephone would only have made him want her more, and his nights had been pure hell as it was.
“That isn’t much of an excuse.”
“It’ll do,” he drawled. “What are you doing out here? The house is so dark I thought you must have gone to bed early.”
Which wouldn’t have stopped him from waking her, she thought wryly. “It’s too hot to sleep.”
He grunted in agreement, bending down to slide his arms under her legs and shoulders. Startled, Michelle grabbed his neck with both arms as he lifted her, then took her place in the chair and settled her on his lap. An almost painful sense of relief filled her as his nearness eased tension she hadn’t even been aware of feeling. She was surrounded by his strength and warmth, and the subtle male scent of his skin reaffirmed the sense of homecoming, of rightness. Bonelessly she melted against him, lifting her mouth to his.
The kiss was long and hot, his lips almost bruising hers in his need, but she didn’t mind, because her own need was just as urgent. His hands slipped under the light nightgown that was all she wore, finding her soft and naked, and a shudder racked his body.
He muttered a soft curse. “Sweet hell, woman, you were sitting out here practically naked.”
“No one else is around to see.” She said the words against his throat, her lips moving over his hard flesh and finding the vibrant hollow where his pulse throbbed.
Heat and desire wrapped around them, sugar-sweet and mindless. From the moment he touched her, she’d wanted only to lie down with him and sink into the textures and sensations of lovemaking. She twisted in his arms, trying to press her breasts fully against him and whimpering a protest as he prevented her from moving.
“This won’t work,” he said, securing his hold on her and getting to his feet with her still in his arms. “We’d better find a bed, because this chair won’t hold up to what I have in mind.”
He carried her inside, and as he had done before, he flipped the switch for the light in the entry, so he would be able to see while going up the stairs. He paused when the light didn’t come on. “You’ve got a blown bulb.”
Tension invaded her body again. “The power’s off.”
He gave a low laugh. “Well, hell. Do you have a flashlight? The last thing I want to do right now is trip on the stairs and break our necks.”
“There’s a kerosene lamp on the table.” She wriggled in his arms, and he slowly let her slide to the floor, reluctant to let her go ev
en for a moment. She fumbled for the matches and struck one, the bright glow guiding her hands as she removed the glass chimney and held the flame to the wick. It caught, and the light grew when she put the chimney back in place.
John took the lamp in his left hand, folding her close to his side with his other arm as they started up the stairs. “Have you called the power company to report it?”
She had to laugh. “They know.”
“How long will it take them to get it back on?”
Well, he might as well know now. Sighing, she admitted, “The electricity’s been cut off. I couldn’t pay the bill.”
He stopped, his brows drawing together in increasing temper as he turned. “Damn it to hell! How long has it been off?”
“Since yesterday morning.”
He exhaled through his clenched teeth, making a hissing sound. “You’ve been here without water and lights for a day and a half? Of all the damned stubborn stunts… Why in hell didn’t you give the bill to me?” He yelled the last few words at her, his eyes snapping black fury in the yellow light from the lamp.
“I don’t want you paying my bills!” she snapped, pulling away from him.
“Well, that’s just tough!” Swearing under his breath, he caught her hand and pulled her up the stairs, then into her bedroom. He set the lamp on the bedside table and crossed to the closet, opened the doors and began pulling her suitcases from the top shelf.
“What are you doing?” she cried, wrenching the suitcase from him.
He lifted another case down. “Packing your things,” he replied shortly. “If you don’t want to help, just sit on the bed and stay out of the way.”
“Stop it!” She tried to prevent him from taking an armful of clothes from the closet, but he merely sidestepped her and tossed the clothes onto the bed, then returned to the closet for another armful.