Can't Fight This Feeling (9 page)

But it should settle him some, shouldn’t it? Since learning of her father’s perfidy, he’d been uneasy. Distracted by wondering how she was feeling, how she was faring. As much as he told himself to forget about it, forget about
her
, he’d not managed to push her from his thoughts for more than a few moments at a time.

And he’d been right to worry, hadn’t he?

Pulling open the door, he took in the sight of the woman on the doorstep. His belly tightened in lust even as relief coursed through him. She looked a hell of a lot better than she had that morning in Mac’s office. Then, she’d been pale, her big eyes shadowed. When she’d nearly gone down to the floor he’d felt his heart lurch in his chest.

It had pissed him off then.

He was still pissed off now, he decided. “What do you want?” he growled.

There was a plate in her hands, and she lifted it in his direction. “I made you cookies.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he scowled at her. “Why would you do that?”

“As a thank-you? While I was working my shift at the hardware store, someone stocked the cabin with groceries, including flour, sugar and butter. Chocolate chips.”

“Must have been Poppy,” he said. “Maybe Shay or Mac.”

One of her dark brows arched. “Are you saying you don’t want a taste?”

He nearly groaned. Of course he wanted a taste. He wanted a whole feast—of her. “Angelica...”

“Brett.” Her mouth curved. The smile looked wan. “It’s just cookies.”

The husky note in her voice had him studying her more closely in the porch light. Yeah, she looked better than she had this morning, but there was a distinct weariness in her expression. She’d been sleeping in her car after all. And it had been beyond chilly the past few nights. He bet she had a scratchy throat.

He couldn’t let her continue standing out there in the cold. “You should have a jacket on,” he said, opening the door wider. “Come by the fire and get warm.”

She stepped inside. Taking the plate of cookies from her, he pushed her toward the living area. On a braided rug that had come with the cabin sat his own saddle-colored leather couch. Angelica trailed one slender hand across the back of it and he worried he’d feel the phantom touch of it every time he sprawled on the cushions.

Near the hearth, she spread her fingers before the flames. He saw the light of them leap, golden orange and red, between her digits as if they licked her flesh. Brett wanted to run his tongue along there, too, then suck each fingertip into his mouth. Her eyes would widen and then close, her head dropping back to reveal the tender curve of her neck. He’d bite that next.

Shit.
Turning his back on her, he placed the cookies on the kitchen counter. The food prep and living areas were just one big space. A hallway teed off to the bedrooms and bathroom. The bungalow was a decent size, but with Angelica between its walls there wasn’t anywhere for the pulsing sexual attraction he felt for her to go.

“Are these yours?” she asked.

He glanced around. She was studying the two framed drawings he’d hung over the fireplace. They were part of a landscape design he’d done in school. One was a plot plan that showed an overhead view of the project, including the structure and the layout of the surrounding greenery. Beside it was a hand-drawn rendering—an illustration—that showed the same project from a boots-on-the-ground perspective. Nestled in the landscaping features he’d envisioned was a large, lodge-like building.

“They’re mine,” he acknowledged.

Over her shoulder, her gaze found his. “What is it?”

He shrugged. “This. Well, not this. Just an idea we once had for something we could put on this land.”

“I know a little about your property,” she said, turning to face him. The firelight limned her delectable body, her curves covered in denim and a lightweight sweater. “From my work with the historical society. It was a ski resort once, right?”

“And before that, timberland,” he said. “The Walkers came to the area one hundred fifty years ago with a wagon and oxen and bought up acres for logging. A century later, this was the last piece we owned and my grandfather and my father after him operated the mountain as a ski resort in winter. A fire burned everything but the cabins when we were kids. Our father died not long after that.”

“I’m sorry,” Angelica said, her expression going soft. She glanced back at the drawings. “You didn’t portray it in winter, though.”

He shrugged again. The rendering showed the vacation lodge in the glory of autumn, with aspens blazing yellow and the pines laden with cones.

“You did a good job with the building, too,” she said. “It looks both majestic and welcoming.”

“I had a roommate who was an architecture major. I picked up a lot from him.”

She had turned back to study the drawings again. “When are you going to follow through with it?”

“The lodge?”

“Yes.”

“This land is cursed,” he said. It was the simplest explanation and one he almost believed to be true.

She whirled around, her brown eyes wide. “What? You don’t believe that.”

Maybe it was he who was cursed. How could he want her so damn bad when she was so damn bad for him? He was mountain born and bred, his life as deeply rooted here as the oldest evergreens, and when she recovered from this temporary financial setback he was certain she’d beat feet for some other high-class playground, never to return.

Surely Blue Arrow Lake would only hold lousy memories.

“Brett?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, striding toward her.

Her arms crossed over her chest. “Tell you what?”

“That you were in trouble. Broke. No place to sleep.”

She turned back to the fire. “Did you sample the cookies?”

Stopping a foot from her, he stared at her back, frustrated. She was a flatlander. Not above his touch; he didn’t think she was better than him, of course, but her type only caused trouble. Still...

He drew one hand down her hair, from the crown of her head to where the ends tangled at the middle of her back. The stuff was so silky it caught on his workingman’s calluses. That’s what she’d do to him—snag him up, if he didn’t find some way to deal with her.

“You should have told me,” he insisted, twisting the strands around his fingers. “How bad is it?”

She sighed. “I don’t really know. Lawyers are involved. I have my own. My accounts were not tied into my father’s fund, but it appears he found some way to siphon off my monies just before he was arrested. My attorney thinks it’s possible we could recover some of it in time.”

He tugged at her hair. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“I’m...embarrassed. Mortified, really.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She shrugged. “I feel stupid for so badly wanting the approval of a man who could do something so dastardly.”

“You should have come to me when you first found out.”

Pulling free of his touch she stepped aside. Her brown eyes bored straight into his. “Why would I? We’re not friends.”

“Because we’re...” Shit. He didn’t have a good answer. “You hungry? Do you want a beer? Or wine? I think Shay left some here.”

Without waiting for her reply, he found the chilled bottle in the fridge and poured. He took up a beer, twisted off the top and was slamming some down even as he delivered her the glass.

She studied him over the rim. “Your family seems really close.”

He was about to make some disparaging remark about siblings, when she continued in a soft voice. “I envy that.”

“You’re an only child.” He’d thought so.

“Yes. My mother refused to ruin her figure again after she had me. I gained a stepbrother and stepsisters on my father’s side for about ten minutes—the marriage only lasted that long—but it was just as well because they despised me on sight.”

“Threatened by your beauty, I suppose.”

Her cheeks went pink. “I don’t know about that.”

“Haven’t you read Cinderella?”

“Despite what you might think, my life’s been no fairy tale,” Angelica said, frowning down at her wine. Then she looked up. “Why did you do it?”

Fantasize about her night and day since they’d met? Take cold showers too many times to count? Used his own hand twice that many times imagining what they might be like together? His fingers tightened on his beer. “Do what?”

“Get me the job with your sister.”

“I didn’t—”

“I might have been a little woozy, but I could sense the silent messages being passed back and forth.”

“Mac needs a worker. You need a job. No big deal.” Not that his sister had required any prodding to take on a new employee. They’d met gazes over Angelica’s dark head and the deed had been done.

“And why am I living here? Why did you make that happen, too?”

“What’s with all the questions?” he said, glancing away.

“Because I want to understand what’s going on here, Brett. What I owe. And to whom.”

“Christ,” he muttered. “Do I look like the kind of man who expects sex—or whatever the hell you’re worrying about—in return for one small good deed?”

“All summer you looked like the kind of man who didn’t want to be around me at all.”

Because he’d been trying to save himself from getting close to someone who would ultimately leave! Because he’d been trying to save himself from this protective, nurturing urge that had been plaguing him since the first time he’d glimpsed her angel face. Because he’d been trying to save himself from this greedy need to kiss her mouth, caress her curves, possess her body.

Yes, he wanted to have sex with her, but not as payment. He wanted to have sex with her for pleasure. Their mutual pleasure.

“We should be friends,” he suddenly said.

She gaped at him.

“What? Don’t you know you can’t have too many friends?”

“Let me get this straight.” She sipped from her wine. “After months of giving me the cold shoulder, you’ve now gone out of your way to make my life easier—”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“To make my life easier,” she repeated firmly. “Because you want us to be friends.”

Did she have to make it sound so stupid? But there was only one answer to the question. “Yes.”

She shook her head, released a little laugh and then toasted him with her glass. “Okay.”

“See how much better things go when you agree with me?”

“I suppose,” she said, without sounding a bit convinced. She crossed to the kitchen sink, rinsed her glass. “It’s time for me to be on my way,
pal
.”

“Sounds good, buddy.” Setting his beer aside, he followed her to the front door.

He held it open for her. She paused on the threshold, then turned to face him. The porch light sprinkled gold in her hair. A small breeze blew her scent over him. “Good night, Brett.”

Without thinking, he yanked her into his arms. Or maybe it was she who made the first move. In any case, in a millisecond she was on tiptoe and their mouths were fused. Tongues tangled, heads slanted, the intimacy was hot, deep, wet. His hands slid down her back to her ass. He tilted her hips against his hard cock and she crowded as close as could be.

Someone was moaning.

One of his hands slid around and then under the hem of her sweater. He felt the bare skin over her rib cage twitch as his fingertips stroked up toward her breast. His palm covered the soft mound and through the thin fabric of her bra her nipple pebbled into its center.

Every muscle in his body tightened and his heart slammed in his chest. She was going to kill him.
Oxygen
, his hazy mind thought.
We need to breathe.

He tore his lips from hers.

They stared at each other, panting.

Common sense trickled in.
This way there be dragons.

Feeling a heartbeat away from sliding off the edge of the world, Brett drew his hand from beneath her sweater. Her expression just as wary as he felt, Angelica stepped back.

“So...” Her gaze trained on his face, she rubbed her palms along the legs of her jeans. “Still friends?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. It had to be this way. “We just...we just sealed the deal with a kiss.”

He watched her walk the short distance to her cabin. Not until she was safely inside did he shut his own door.

We just sealed the deal with a kiss.

Hell! It wasn’t a deal...it was a devil’s bargain.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A
NGELICA
LINGERED
IN
the offices of the Mountain Historical Society, tidying her desk, then scrubbing the coffeepot. She made up tasks for herself rather than hurrying to her Walker cabin. As a volunteer, no one expected her to finish out her shift if her work was accomplished, but as the only one in the offices at the moment, she felt compelled to stay until the closing hour of five o’clock.

Her cabin would still be waiting, thirty feet from the one that housed Brett.

Her friend.

Sighing, she grabbed up the pet brush that someone had brought in and began to stroke the bristles over their mascot, the good ol’ grizzly named Piney that dominated the center of the foyer. “You’re cheerier than my neighbor,” she told the stuffed beast. “Maybe you and I should spend the night together.”

For the past few days she’d run into Brett coming or going. He’d avoided her eyes and muttered some semblance of a greeting here and there. It was so obvious he wanted to evade her that she’d taken to peeking out the door before leaving her cabin.

He must be on the lookout for her, too, because he managed to refill the wood box in her living room and the log holder on the porch when she wasn’t around to catch him. Maybe he feared she’d kiss him again.

It had been her that had gone after him that last time, right?

She wasn’t sure. She’d turned, said good-night, and then it was a filings-to-magnet moment. Their bodies slammed together, their lips locked. He’d managed to pull away first. She thought. At the time, she’d been so into the moment, into him, that all her senses hadn’t been working properly.

To her, the kiss had been heaven and hell entwined. Burning fire and delightful promise, all the things she’d read about, heard about when it came to intimacy and sex. All the things she’d wanted to experience but had backed away from before.

Until Brett.

Clearly, for him, it had been no big deal.

Thus, friends.

The distinctive creak of the society’s front door sounded in the quiet. She looked up just as it shut behind the newcomer, the wooden blinds clacking against the half window. It was a male figure that came in, bundled in a coat and hat, and her heart leaped, until he pulled the cap from his hair.

“Hey, Vaughn,” she said, returning to her grooming of the grizzly. Something about the man made her uneasy. Maybe it was because she’d met enough of his sort in her lifetime. Trust-fund types who thought their entitlement didn’t come from luck but because they were inherently better than the other guy.

“Angelica.” He nodded, a smile beaming out of his tan. His hair was dark blond, his chin chiseled, but she thought Brett was a hundred times more manly with his scarred visage and his hard-earned muscles. “How’s it going?”

“Great. I’m about to head out.” She glanced at the old-fashioned school clock mounted on the wall. “Did you need something?”

“Nah. Just thought I’d pop in for a chat.”

“You knew I was here?”

He shrugged. “Saw your car...only one in the parking lot.”

Her stomach jumped a bit and she scolded herself for being silly. She’d known Vaughn for months, and he’d never shown much interest in her. Maybe he was only being polite. Concerned that she was alone at the headquarters.

“Anything new to report about the historical society?” he asked.

She drew the brush along Piney’s...did grizzlies have arms? “Not really. The last of the auction items have been turned over to the new owners, and we were able to cancel the rental of the storage locker.”

Vaughn had paused in the act of unbuttoning his cashmere overcoat. “There was a storage locker?”

“Uh-huh. When your grandfather’s house went up for sale, we had to put the items somewhere.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, almost to himself.

“It was expensive, that unit, so we’re glad to eliminate the monthly fee from our expenses.”

“Stupid of me,” Vaughn muttered, “not to think of that.”

“Well, done with it now.” She glanced again at the clock. “Time for me to go.”

Setting the brush aside, she headed toward the rack in the corner of the offices where she’d hung her purse and coat. Vaughn followed her there, and took the long coat out of her hands.

“Oh, don’t bother,” she said, flustered as he held it out for her.

“Nonsense,” he said, with another alligator smile. “I was raised to mind my manners.”

There was nothing she could do but turn her back on him—and that made her nervous—in order to push her hands through the sleeves. She shoved them through as quickly as possible but before she was able to turn around again he was sliding his hands beneath her hair at the nape of her neck so he could pull the swathe of it from beneath her collar.

Her flesh crawled at the dry touch of his skin on hers.

Whirling around, she stepped back and her shoulders hit the wall with a muted thud. “Um, thanks,” she said, trying to suppress her shudder. The last man who’d touched her hair, who’d touched her, had been Brett. With him, she’d felt shivery in an entirely different way.

“What’s the matter?” Vaughn asked.

Not for anything did she want to admit to him she didn’t feel comfortable flying solo in male company. “Not a thing,” she said, ducking her head to apply her attention to her coat buttons.

In her peripheral vision she saw his shiny dress shoes shuffle closer. Ignoring that, she kept her gaze down and used mental telepathy to communicate her disinterest.
Go away, Vaughn. Give me room.

“You know,” he said, his voice low. “You’re a very lovely woman.”

“Thank you.” She pulled her gloves out of her pocket and began to inch them on. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

“Oh, I’m not just being nice.” He moved closer, into her personal zone and she started shouting at him in her mind.
Back off!

Her skittishness around most men flustered her so that she’d never mastered the ability to make a quick getaway. Maybe it was due to how young she’d been when she’d had that ugly experience in a dark closet, or maybe she’d been a rabbit in an earlier life. Whatever the reason, her tendency was to freeze up and hope the predator would move past. So she was standing there, pretending a preoccupation with her gloves, when suddenly Vaughn was much, much too close, surrounding her. She leaned back, pressing into the wall, and his bent arm was propped against it, above her head.

His breath moved the hair at her temple. “I heard you’ve had some financial trouble,” he said in a low voice. “You know, I could help you out—or maybe we could help out each other.”

A trickle of sweat rolled down her back. “Um, Vaughn—”

“I happen to have a cold bottle of wine in my car. Some cheese and crackers.”

She cursed her curvy behind. If she’d had a flatter butt, she could have put more inches between them.

“Why don’t I bring them in,” he continued, his tone of voice the kind you used to coax a cat from behind a bureau, “and we can enjoy them while we get to know each other?”

“I don’t—”

The squeal of the front door cut into her next words. She’d never been so glad to hear the screechy noise.

Or see the man stepping into the building.

“Brett!” She was pretty sure she sounded almost as squeaky as the door. Vaughn didn’t move as quickly as she would have liked, but now she finally managed to duck and squirm to gain freedom from his imprisoning body. “What are you doing here?” she continued in a breathless voice.

His gaze ran over her from head to toe, his expression giving nothing away. “How are you, Angelica?”

“It’s great to see you,” she said, trying her mental telegraphy again.
Don’t leave me alone with Vaughn. Please don’t leave me alone with him.

Maybe it worked, because Brett stepped farther into the room and let the door snap shut behind him.

His gaze jumped from her to the man standing behind her. “I suppose you know Vaughn, right?” She threw a glance over her shoulder and tried pretending her pulse wasn’t skipping about, first from nerves and then from...well, just being in her neighbor’s presence. “Vaughn, I’m sure you need no introduction to my friend, Brett.”

At the word
friend
, he sent her a dark look, then turned his attention back to the other man. “Elliott.”

Vaughn mumbled some greeting and moved close to Angelica. She edged away and returned her gaze to Brett. “What brings you by?” she asked in a bright voice.

“Saw your car in the lot,” he said.

“Funny, Vaughn stopped in for the same reason.”

Brett’s brows rose. “Did he tell you one of your rear tires is flat?”

She slid the other man a look. “No.”

Vaughn lifted his hands in a “who knew” gesture. “It must have happened after I came inside. Or maybe I just didn’t notice.”

“I’m not sure what caused it,” Brett said, his narrowed eyes on Vaughn’s face. “I didn’t see a nail.”

“Well, don’t you worry about it, Walker,” Vaughn said. “Angelica will call the road service, and I’ll stay right here until she’s... I mean, it’s as good as new.”

She widened her eyes in Brett’s direction, trying to sync her brain to his once more.
Don’t leave me!

He didn’t even look at her. “No need to make a call and wait for the truck.” His gaze cut to Angelica and she thought, just for a second, it softened. “You have a spare, sweetheart?”

“Um, yes.” She moved to the coatrack and fished through her purse, still hanging there, on the hunt for her keys.

“‘Sweetheart,’ huh?” Vaughn murmured to Brett.

“Just slipped out,” he said. “We’re friends.”

“Buddies,” Angelica added, her key ring in hand. “Pals.”

“Never can have too many friends,” Vaughn said, his tone turning jovial.

“That’s what I tell her,” Brett said, taking the keys from her hand. “This won’t take long.”

“I have an idea,” Vaughn said, turning to Angelica. “We leave Walker here and let him do his grease-monkey thing. The two of us will head out for a drink to pass the time.” Now he leaned close and spoke in almost a whisper. “Remember, we have things to discuss.”

Behind him, Brett’s brows rose nearly to his hairline. “Yeah, Elliott, if you stick around you might get some dirt on your fancy overcoat.” His gaze flicked to her. “Have fun, angel face.”

She tried to overlook the insult. But, really? “I’m not going to leave when Brett’s doing me a favor,” she said. Was that the kind of woman he thought she was?

“What else are friends for?” Vaughn countered.

Angelica took a step toward the door. “Not for running off.” She glanced at Brett. “Coming? You’ll tell me what I can do to help.”

As she sailed through the door she called over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Vaughn.”

Her neighbor caught up with her as she was examining her flat tire in the waning light. Without another word to either of them, Vaughn sped past as he left the lot. Angelica’s eyes rounded. “Was he giving us the finger?”

“I think he meant that for me,” Brett said. “Looks like I messed with his plans for the evening.”

She shrugged, just glad to see the other man’s taillights in the distance. Then she frowned at the state of her tire. “Flat” didn’t even cover how airless it seemed to be.

“I really appreciate your helping me out,” she said. “I’ll try to think of something to make it up to you. What can I do right now?”

“Just move back,” Brett said after a moment, propelling her several feet away with his hands on her shoulders. “Keep your distance.”

She sighed as she watched him roll up his sleeves to reveal powerful, ropy forearms.
Keep your distance.
He should tell that to her hormones or whatever you wanted to call this feeling that compelled her to want to climb his body, kiss him silly, do all the wild and horny things that women did to men. Things that required a closeness and trust that had always alarmed her before.

That she only experienced around Brett.

Her
friend
.

“You could have gone for that drink,” he muttered, his back turned to her.

She didn’t want to admit that Vaughn made her skin crawl. It seemed...gauche.

“He’s your type,” Brett added, a hard edge to his voice. “You two have a lot in common.”

She strove for an airy note. “How come that sounds like you’re jealous?”

He snorted. “In your dreams.”

“Right,” Angelica said, swallowing her sigh. It seemed as if her dreams were the only places she’d have the man.

* * *

K
YLE
S
COTT
ENTERED
Hallett Hardware to hear a frustrated female threaten in a loud voice, “If you don’t stop, I’m calling Mom!”

Hmm.
He deduced that his date was in the back room at the rear of the store and that she might not be in the best of moods. That afternoon they had plans to peruse the fall festival being celebrated on the main street of the village of Blue Arrow Lake, just a couple of blocks away. He hoped whatever was causing her to yell wouldn’t get in the way of their plans.