Bound to Happen (2 page)

And so to give the left side of her brain a sense of maintaining its equilibrium during this escapade, Leslie went the extra distance to Buena Vista and without any trouble found the deserted logging road which would take her into the isolated mountains.

Not only was Leslie dressed inappropriately for the journey, but her Volvo didn’t seem to be appreciating what was being passed off as a road beneath its wheels. The grade was so steep that the car’s transmission wouldn’t get out of first gear even though the motor raced powerfully to pull it ahead. The Volvo bounced, tilted, and swayed as it moved over bumps and in and out of potholes. Still Leslie pushed on. She’d come too far to turn back, and the downhill trip would be much easier. She even promised the Volvo a tune-up and overhaul at the foreign auto repair shop of its choice if it would just hang in there with her.

As she drove higher and higher, she was forced to roll up the car windows against the chilly air and let the sun warm the interior of the car. When at last she came to a basin where she saw evidence of an old mining camp, she instinctively recognized the area as her destination. She pulled in beside one of the two dilapidated old buildings that remained, but when she attempted to get out to stretch her legs, the cold wind blew gooseflesh across her bare shoulders and arms, and Leslie decided to remain inside the car.

She could see all she wanted to from where she was. A miniature model of the project had been constructed for the investors, and it took very little imagination for her to picture how it would look once completed. She could see the summit lodge high above her. She knew where each ski run would be cut through the dense ponderosa pines, spruce, and aspens. And there, not far from where she sat, would be the base with its posh lodgelike hotel. More of the land would be cleared for shops and restaurants to keep the not so serious skiers happy. And …

Leslie sighed heavily. Her job notwithstanding, what was about to happen to the beautiful mountain was almost sacrilegious, a crying shame at the very least. Her heart sank. She’d come all this way, full of hope and a sense of her own being, to look at something that wouldn’t even exist in two years’ time.

It was as if the mountain had called out to her saying, Come see me now, because I’ll never be this beautiful again. It was as if an inner voice was telling her to start really living, because even the mountains wouldn’t last forever.

Feeling nearly as terrible as she had when she first left the church some four hours earlier, Leslie started the downhill journey home.

She became preoccupied with her thoughts and ambivalent to the spectacular view that spread itself before her in a panoramic vista of fierce, rugged mountaintops and gentle, wooded slopes and valleys. The wealthy patrons who no doubt would flock to the new ski resort would certainly get their money’s worth in view, Leslie finally decided as she traveled down the center of the old dirt road, hoping to miss as many holes as possible.

She kept trying to shake the overwhelming feeling of isolation and aloneness that threatened to engulf her and blurred her eyes with tears, but it stuck tenaciously and grew. In the recesses of her mind she began to wonder what was wrong with her. She’d never been an overly emotional person. She’d never felt so sorry for herself or so dissatisfied with her life before. Since when did she care what a project did to the natural beauty of the land? She’d always thought the developments had a beauty of their own. Why had she been so disappointed that Beth hadn’t been able to answer her questions about love and the rightness of having one particular man in your life as opposed to any other man? What difference did it make anyway? She had her career and plenty of friends, and led an active, productive life. What else mattered?

From out of nowhere a large truck loomed up directly in front of her. She could see her own expression of shocked surprise reflected in the driver’s face. With no time to consider her options, Leslie’s instincts took over. She jerked the steering wheel to the right. There was a brief blur of green and brown and blue before her eyes closed.

The next thing to register in Leslie’s brain was the absolute and total dead silence. Then came the sound of her own breathing, loud, deep, and uneven. She felt nothing but the painful beating of her heart. Gradually other sensations returned. Her tense muscles unwound to a tingling, liquid state. Her eyes opened but remained unseeing. Slowly they focused and began feeding data to her brain.

She wasn’t dead. Nor was she injured badly. She ached all over and would have a few bruises, but she was most certainly in one piece and mobile.

Her car was facing downward into a steep but shallow ravine, lodged forcefully against a large boulder. The hood and front end of the car were grossly distorted and damaged. Before she could mourn the loss of her car and realize that she was now stranded in the mountains, thoughts of the other driver flashed into her mind with a panic.

There was a quick loud thump on the window near her face, and Leslie jumped. Turning, she recognized the face she’d seen in the brief seconds before all had been lost to her. There was shock, anger, and a great deal of anxiety in the man’s face as he motioned for her to get out of the car.

Leslie pulled on the door handle but without reward. She pulled again and pushed with her shoulder to try and dislodge whatever was keeping the door in place.

The man thumped the window again and indicated in a muffled voice that he wanted her to unlock the back door. Aching and hindered by the hoop and the volumes of material of her dress, Leslie finally managed to unlock the door. The man jerked it open immediately.

“Get out,” he ordered in a deep, terse voice.

“Is the car on fire?” Leslie asked, terrorized by the urgency in his voice.

“How the hell should I know? Get out,” he ordered again, his sharpness almost as frightening to Leslie as the thought of being trapped in her car and having the gas tank explode.

Without a thought for modesty or decorum, Leslie laboriously climbed head first into the back seat. She had intended to keep on crawling right out the door to safety but was stunned once again when the man reached in, grabbed her under the arms, and pulled her out of the car. He swore colorfully when the hoops in her skirt caught in the door. Leslie automatically grabbed at her bodice as she felt the man preparing to give one last hoop-snapping tug.

Leslie broke free of the car with such force that the impact of her body hitting his caused him to stagger backward and stumble, taking Leslie with him. Together they rolled the short distance to the bottom of the ravine and came to a stop with the man atop Leslie. Both were breathless from their exertion and the unfortunate results of the near collision moments earlier. After several moments, the man rose up and looked down at Leslie.

He had very dark green eyes that were quick and comprehensive in their detailed inspection of her face and upper chest. His hair was thick and dark, and his sun-bronzed skin was filmed with a fine layer of perspiration.

For long moments he looked at Leslie as if he didn’t know what she was or what she was good for. Leslie, on the other hand, was in shock, she decided, as she lay under the stranger, her breath coming in short little gasps, her pulse racing, her skin burning where his body touched hers. She allowed herself a few moments to familiarize herself with the deeply penetrating and highly rapturous feelings being so close to this man stirred in her.

Androgen overload, she finally concluded in her own Leslielike way. It was the only explanation she could come up with that would put her reactions to him into perspective. He certainly wasn’t the first handsome man she’d ever seen, but he definitely was the most … male. He possessed more of whatever it was that made a man the male of the species than any other person she’d ever met.

It wasn’t just his dark, attractive features or the keenness of his eyes or even the way his broad, muscled shoulders loomed above her, blocking out the midafternoon sun. Whatever it was that masculinized this man so strongly hung in the air about him, grew in every cell of his body, and was as natural to him as the beating of his heart.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Leslie found it was very difficult to breathe and talk with a man on her chest.

She watched as his eyes lost their stupefied wonder and grew stormy with his reaction to the reality of the situation. This time his gaze raked over her face and bare shoulders from a different perspective, and Leslie didn’t like it at all. She felt defensive before he opened his mouth to speak.

“I hope you have a damned good explanation for all this, lady.”

Leslie stared at him wide-eyed and openmouthed for several seconds, temporarily speechless at the man’s gall.

“I … me? I need an explanation? You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Leslie told him, pushing at his shoulders to free herself. “You weren’t an innocent bystander to all this, you know.”

The man didn’t seem to be willing to give up his superior position. He kept Leslie pinned beneath him. “Well, I sure as hell wasn’t the one driving down the middle of the road rubbernecking at all the scenery either.”

“That road is supposed to be abandoned. How was I to know you’d be on it?” Leslie asked, making another attempt at getting him to move away from her.

“Abandoned doesn’t mean totally forgotten or unusable. What if I’d been some guy with his wife and a trailer full of kids on a camping trip?”

“Then I’d make a citizen’s arrest, because this is a restricted area and campers aren’t allowed,” Leslie said, feeling very proud of herself for remembering that fact, enjoying the wary look that came to the man’s face. “Come to think of it,” she added bravely, “Just exactly what are you doing up here?”

“You’re in that getup, and you’ve been driving around in that car, and you think
I
don’t belong up here?” he asked, his expression telling her precisely where he thought she really did belong; his short chuckle mocking her bravado.

Indignant because she knew how foolish she must look to him, Leslie assumed her most disdainful manner and spoke accordingly. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I do happen to have my own reasons for being here like this.”

“Oh, this oughta be good,” he said, and then laughed as if he were about to hear an old joke once again.

“But I haven’t the slightest intention of telling you. Now let me up,” she said, growing angry with his impossible attitude.

“That’s typical,” the man said, moving aside to free Leslie. “Women always clam up when things start to get interesting. It’s their way of winning an argument by default. But the fact remains, lady. I look like I belong here a lot more than you do.”

“So what?” Leslie groaned, irritated beyond words as she pushed herself into a sitting position. She batted the skirt down when it rose up to meet her, and said, “Accusing each other and arguing about it isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“Neither are the vehicles that got us here,” the man pointed out.

“Oh, no. Is your truck as badly damaged as my car?” she asked as she scrambled clumsily to her feet.

“Not quite, but it’s wedged between two trees, and it won’t be going anywhere today.”

Standing up, Leslie experienced a sharp pain in her left temple, and suddenly the tree trunks and bushes began to sway. Her peripheral vision became gray and began closing in. Automatically her hand rose to her eyes, while her body swayed to adjust itself to her vision.

“Perfect. Now you’re going to faint,” the man said without a great deal of feeling.

Loath to give him the satisfaction of being what she knew he would consider a typical woman, Leslie swore, “I’d rather die,” before unconsciousness overtook her.

“S
O, WHAT’S IT
going to be? Are you going to die or what?” The deep, husky voice filtered through the darkness, reaching Leslie’s consciousness, echoing painfully as it moved on into infinity.

Slowly she opened her eyes. Quickly she closed them again. She was totally blind. In that split second, she saw nothing but endless, empty darkness. Her throat constricted and tears of despair welled in her eyes. An irrepressible moan of misery escaped her as she moved her hand to pinpoint the source of the excruciating pain in her temple.

“If you’re planning to die, don’t. I’ve already wasted most of my day watching you sleep. I don’t have time to dig you a grave, so I’m warning you, if you die, I’ll leave you here for buzzard bait,” came the male voice from seconds before.

Instinctively Leslie reopened her eyes. God was good. She could make out the bulky shadow of what appeared to be a very large man standing over her.

“Do you need my decision right away?” she muttered, closing her eyes again, grateful for the vision she had left and finding it less painful when she wasn’t straining to see. “My head’s killing me.”

“I’m not surprised,” the man stated matter-of-factly. “It looks like you took a pretty good thump when you ran me off the road. Want me to light the lantern?”

Pain shot through Leslie’s head and neck as she jerked them toward the man’s voice and strove to focus her eyes once again.

“It’s dark?” she asked bewilderedly. “It’s nighttime?”

“Can’t you see? Of course it’s nighttime. It’s pitch black out here,” the man said, his voice gruff with anger—or concern, Leslie couldn’t tell.

“Well, I thought I was going blind,” she said a bit more testily than she meant to. But her memory was returning. The wedding, the impulsive trip into the mountains, the camper … she was beginning to feel more than a little discouraged.

Leslie heard an exasperated sigh and listened while the man moved toward her. There was a blinding flash of light as he struck a match. She followed the light and watched as the lantern came to life. Looking up, she saw a pair of clear, intense eyes holding hers so forcefully that a shiver passed through her and her skin began to prickle with fear … and excitement.

With those eyes, so shiny and deep, the man sought out Leslie’s soul, the essence of her being. He asked silent questions and took the answers he wanted. Leslie had a peculiar feeling that he was reading her thoughts, absorbing her most intimate dreams and desires and was at the same time measuring and evaluating her character and values. She felt as if he were turning her inside out, and for some reason, she knew he was enjoying it.