Jennifer Greene: Can’t Say No

An hour earlier she could have fallen asleep in Grand Central Station, but now, thanks to that… bully, she couldn’t have been less tired.

And as for looking like hell…hurriedly, she glanced at the mirror again, only to see that she might look a little tired, but hardly comatose. Her hair was lustrous and shiny, her skin clear, her green eyes snapping with energy, and she’d taken care of those little circles with makeup in the restroom. There was nothing wrong with the way she looked. Nothing.

Except for the delicate frown between her brows when she saw the flashing yellow light trailing her. Pulling over, Bree stopped the engine, took several deep, calming breaths, opened the window and faced the policeman.

“Going fifteen miles over by the clock. License and registration, please.”

Mortified, Bree hurriedly complied. She’d never in her life received a speeding ticket. The gentleman in the tan uniform was more than happy to educate her as to how it was done. Cheeks flaming, Bree accepted the oblong bit of paper and the stern admonition to control her hot-foot tendencies. Only by chance did she glance behind her.

Hart had pulled his navy Lexus off the highway some distance behind her. He was yawning. Yawning!

For the next three hours, her speedometer never once bounced above fifty-five. Neither did her shadow’s.

Gradually, rolling hills led to mountains, and the road began to dip and curve. Streams gushed over the hillsides, stripes of silver where the sun hit. After a time, Bree flicked off the air conditioning and rolled down the windows. The air was sultry, but the smell of pungent woods soothed her fragile nerves.

Hart was following her; she’d known from the minute he deliberately drove past his turnoff. It would be so simple to get rid of him if she could talk, but handicapped as she was, she felt utterly helpless. Then again, her polite no-thank-yous had gotten rid of any number of unwanted men-but she had a feeling they wouldn’t work with Hart. What would? She would have to do something about him. When she got to the cabin.

Not now, not yet. For now, she inhaled deeply and remembered why she had come here. There was no other place on earth like the mountains in South Carolina in April.

Clusters of trillium bubbled and tripped over the hillsides in incredible snow-white splashes. The woods were verdant and ripe with new growth; every leaf seemed to catch the sun. Silence was part of the magic. Suddenly, there were no cars except hers and Hart’s, just the soft shadows of woods, the occasional burst of secluded stream, the lush promise of shelter and privacy where no one would intrude.

The road to Gram’s cabin curved down and around a valley. A very few other vacation cottages stood along the road, but all of them were hidden from sight, with only crooked mailboxes to indicate their presence. The ravine was just past that stand of trees, completely invisible from the road, a lush sanctuary for wildlife and flowers, rising up a steep incline…Gram had loved it so. Gram…

Shoving the car into first gear for the last steep climb, Bree frowned absently, aware that she hadn’t thought of Gram in hours now, a first in how long?

Braking to a stop, she let a pent-up flow of weariness flood her limbs as she gazed at the cabin. A shake-shingled roof, log walls, a porch with a swing…Weeds had overgrown everything, but if the place looked disreputable to a civilized eye, Bree saw only happy memories. Eating warm chocolate cookies on that swing; toting home a pailful of blackberries; wildflowers in every room; going to sleep with the smell of that white, delicate blossom that grew everywhere; a bear one night-how Gram had laughed at his antics, allaying the fears of the little girl Bree had been. Like an ocean tide, there was a rhythm to every minute she had spent in that cabin, the ebb and flow of silence and contentment, the soothing murmur of love she had so taken for granted as a child.

There was no other place she could possibly have gone.

It was the perfect place…

A car door slammed behind her, jolting her from the sleepy memories. Gnawing determinedly at the inside of her lip, she snatched up her purse, unlocked the door and stepped out of the car, her heels sinking into the weedy, pungent earth.

“Who on earth would have guessed you were such a country girl?” Hart’s eyes interestedly traveled the length of her, as if he hadn’t inspected her a dozen times already. “The mystery deepens, doesn’t it, Bree? I’d say you were a man after my own heart, but one look at you and a fool would know how inappropriate that statement would be.” His head whipped around as he jammed his hands in his pockets. “Looks like the place has been closed up for a few years.”

Those blue eyes suddenly seared hers, and she could have sworn she glimpsed an unbelievable sensitivity, even protectiveness, in them.

“So what exactly are we going to do about you, honey?” Hart murmured.

Bree made several adequate sign-language motions, indicating he could drop himself and his car into the nearest ravine.

He ignored her energetic hand signals. “I’ve always been happy with the place I rent, but you’ve really cornered a special little valley here. Any cottages for rent close by?”

She shook her head vigorously from side to side.

“I saw quite a few signs on the road-”

Violently, her head whipped back and forth again.

“Nobody’s lived in that cabin for ages, I’ll bet,” Hart remarked conversationally.

She nodded yes, someone had. Another lie.

“Fascinating, how you can fib without even opening your mouth.” Hart shook his head. “I was positive there’d be someone waiting here for you-and there’s no one,” he said unbelievingly. “You just decided to take off for here, looking like a model for an urban magazine, playing some game about not talking, coping as well as a lost toddler in a circus…I don’t know why I’m asking this, but do you at least have food in the place?”

She nodded.

“So you don’t even have a box of crackers. Wonderful, ” he said flatly.

All of this just had to stop. Options flounced through her brain, most of them far too good for him. Nailed up by his thumbs. Boiling in oil. Tickled to death by African ants.

A very tiny corner of her brain acknowledged a wayward and totally incomprehensible attraction to him. Or maybe it was just that he intrigued her. Most men she knew backed off at a frown. Hart probably wouldn’t back off for a bulldozer.

The vibrations warned her that he was a dangerous man, but he strode forward with an innocuous smile, hooking an arm around her shoulder before she could blink. When she failed to move forward, his arm swept down and his palm lightly tapped her fanny. She definitely stepped forward then. The sexual voltage was undeniable, and as wanted as a toothache.

“If you’re going to keep up this silent act, I don’t see you coping with a grocery store. Let’s get you inside and make out a food list, and then you can crash. You lasted pretty well during the drive, I’ll give you that. I was worried about you at the airport, but the spark is definitely back in your eyes.” He paused at the door, then pushed it open.

Gram had never kept the cabin locked up. Why bother? This wasn’t robber territory. There was nothing to steal.

There was also very little protection against a man who had suddenly developed an ominous scowl.

Hart glared first inside the cabin, and then back at her. One hand rested loosely on his hip; the other pushed a shock of hair from his forehead as if he just couldn’t take much more. His voice erupted in a throaty growl. “You’re actually planning on living in this place? In the shape it’s in? I really don’t believe this.”