Jennifer Greene - Ain’t Misbehaving

The cabin was already toasty. Mitch pushed off his boots at the door and started stripping off the snowsuit, his eyes roaming the room restlessly. A twelve-point buck elk’s head hung over the couch; its eyes always stared back if you looked long enough. A double bed took up one corner; Kay had already removed the cover from the feather bed and fluffed it out.

She’d also set a kettle of water on the stove. And checked out the books in the ceiling-high bookcase. He smiled. Every cupboard in the kitchen area was open, obviously recently explored.

He might have thought she’d disappeared altogether if the trapdoor in the far corner hadn’t been open. Rubbing his hands together, he wandered to the opening and crouched down on his haunches.

“I would think you’d have the sense to warm up by the fire,” he called down.

“You’re back,” Kay announced unnecessarily. “Mitch, there’s enough food down here for an entire winter!”

“Of course there is. Anyone crazy enough to come up here in the dead of winter could get stranded.”

“When I saw there was no food upstairs, I got a little concerned,” she admitted. “But I never dreamed-”

“If we kept it upstairs, it would freeze-or spoil, during the long periods no one’s around. The generator obviously isn’t kept on when no one’s here, and you can’t count on it anyway through a long snowstorm.”

“The bathroom’s adorable,” Kay mentioned.

He grinned. “You like that?” The tiny cubicle just off the main room was big enough for a chemical john and that was it. A big claw-foot tub stood next to the pump sink in the kitchen area and could have contained two grown men. A propane heater promised enough hot water to fill the tub, but privacy was another story.

Privacy was not exactly what he had in mind for Kay these few days anyway. The holiday had not prompted much intimacy so far. Actually, none, although there were occasions he could have taken advantage of if the lady had shown the least inclination. Furthermore, Kay had reminded him twice on the way up that she wanted them to get back for a New Year’s Eve party at Stix’s.

An insensitive fool could tell Kay was turning cool. Mitch was not insensitive. Kay was her usual bubbly self, but it was obvious she suddenly wanted to play it light…and it was obvious to him that in some way he’d disappointed her as a lover. Nothing else could be wrong; in every other way they blended like two peas in a pod. And the worst of it was he couldn’t imagine any lover more satisfying than Kay-for him.

He’d felt as touchy as a wounded bear on the drive up. That edginess had only gradually eased on the snowmobile ride; his mood had lifted as Kay’s natural exuberance had broken through her odd quietness of the past few days. Her smiles had made him smile; her daredevil antics on the snowmobile ride had alternately made him roar with laughter and want to turn her over his knee.

“I love it,” Kay announced as her head popped up through the trap door. “Help!”

She handed him foodstuffs, one by one. Coffee, tea, a bottle of wine. Flour. Canned stew, sugar… “We’re having stew for dinner. With homemade biscuits, and I’ll be darned if this doesn’t look like homemade jam. And here are the pickles-”

“Pickles?”

She pushed the trapdoor shut and locked it, then turned to retrieve the food from his arms. “Everyone loves dill pickles,” she informed him. “Furthermore, there’ll be a fruit salad. Not necessarily a fresh fruit salad, but what do you want to bet by the time we get this fixed you’ll be so raving hungry you couldn’t care less?”

The corner of Mitch’s mouth was twitching. “We brought steaks, you know.”

“We’ll have those tomorrow. When I’ve figured out how to cook on the wood stove without destroying everything. You-” Kay pointed a wagging figure in his direction. “Just stay out of my way and let me go.”

He wouldn’t. She should have known better, Kay thought wryly. He started baking potatoes and cooking the steaks before she’d begun the fruit salad; he took the dough for the biscuits out of her hands and set the table before she even found the plates. Arguing with him accomplished nothing beyond having her wineglass refilled and her fanny consolingly patted as he worked around her.

They used the coffee table as their dining room. Seated cross-legged across from each other, Mitch fed her a warm biscuit, dripping with butter and honey, just as if she were incapable of feeding herself. To her total embarrassment, once she’d swallowed the morsel, she yawned.

Mitch chuckled. “Late nights just don’t go with hours in the cold and a little wine, now do they?”

“I’ll wake up,” she promised.

“By the time you get your bath after dinner, you’ll be so sleepy you won’t even appreciate the feather bed.”

“My bath,” Kay echoed vaguely.

“Your bath,” Mitch affirmed.

Kay chewed rapidly on another mouthful of steak, regarding Mitch through feathery lashes. She’d evaded intimacy for days, not from preference but from common sense. You don’t judge the heat of the fire by getting burned up in it. A little distance for Mitch’s sake, and she hoped he’d see they had more than sex together anyway.

She took a sip of wine. “Actually, I don’t need a bath,” she mentioned.

“You’ll love it. Melted snow is so soft that it’s like silk on your skin, and if we drag the tub over by the stove you’ll think you’re in a sauna.”

“Hmm.” There was just a hint of a stubborn cast to Mitch’s chin; she’d never noticed it before. His dark hair had been finger brushed; there was a shadow of stubble on his chin. A red flannel shirt hugged those strong shoulders of his, and in the light of the stove and the kerosene lamps, his features took on dominantly male shadows. Don’t-argue-with-me shadows.

“Is taking a bath a prerequisite to being invited up here again?” she questioned wryly.

“All guests are given a claw-foot baptism the first time they come here,” he explained.

“A Cochran custom.”

“You’ve got it.”

“And have you got another backwoods story for me?” she asked with a chuckle.

As if on cue, she heard the faint piercing howl of a wolf in the distance and started. Mitch, standing up to gather plates, leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead. “That’s the other reason you’re taking a bath. This is a strange place with scary sounds in the night, and a hot bath will guarantee that you sleep well in spite of yourself.”

“I expect I’ll sleep well regardless,” Kay insisted, which had the same effect as trying to make an arrow pierce through steel.

Snow melted at a very slow rate. Mounds of snow produced very little water. The dishes were long done before the tub was a third filled; she’d lost a trivia game before it was two-thirds filled; and by the time it was full and she was staring at it interestedly with all her clothes on, Mitch seemed to be refilling her glass again-this time with a spiced mulled wine that had the effect of a potent sleeping pill combined with an aphrodisiac.

“You don’t need this sweater,” Mitch remarked.

He was so right. She hadn’t needed the sweater in hours. The wind had picked up outside, but though it whistled around the windows, the inside of the cabin was marvelously warm. Mitch’s hands were marvelously warm as they unbuttoned the shirt beneath her sweater, and then that garment, too, was tossed aside… She stared in amazement; he’d actually managed to hook it on one of the elk’s horn points.

“He was staring at you,” Mitch explained gravely.

Kay giggled. “It wasn’t personal. It’s obvious that he stares at everyone.”

“Not at you. He has no right whatsoever to stare at you. Particularly…”