Matt (4 page)

Matt got to his feet and walked to the small kitchen. “I think I'd better get some dinner started. If Burke comes, no harm done. But if he can't get through, you won't starve to death.”

Vanessa looked up with a quick, nervous smile. “What can I do?”

He paused. “For now, why don't you just relax in front of the fire?”

As another rumble of thunder, closer now, shook the cabin, she nodded her agreement. Setting the glass of wine aside, she leaned her head back, fighting the tension that knotted her insides. Breathing deeply, she struggled to find a calm place in her mind. Not an easy thing to do, with so many appointments that would have to be juggled if she happened to be delayed here. She prided herself on always being on time. It was part and parcel of who she was. What she was. A disciplined, organized, efficient workaholic. And here she was, being asked to relax and roll with this fickle weather.

Within minutes, exhausted by the long flight, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the wonderful aroma of onions in a skillet wafting on the air, she was able to blot out the thought of the storm raging outside, and the appointments she would miss, and was soon drifting on a cloud of contentment.

V
anessa's head came up sharply as she jolted awake. She'd been asleep only a few minutes, but it was enough that she felt a quick rush of embarrassment at her lapse.

She turned her head to see Matt stirring something on the stove. She breathed deeply, feeling suddenly ravenous. She picked up her wineglass and strolled to the counter, where she perched on a wooden bar stool and watched Matt work.

He looked over. “Hungry?”

She nodded. “I didn't realize how much until now. Something smells wonderful.”

“Yancy's chili. And I have some bread warming in the oven.”

A giant rumble of thunder had him looking at her. “Sounds like the storm's directly overhead now. This should be the worst of it before it blows past.”

She tried to take comfort in the thought that it would soon be over, but the sound of rain lashing the windows had her shivering.

Seeing it, Matt nodded toward a plaid afghan tossed over the end of a bunk. “Wrap that around you. It'll keep the cold at bay.”

“Thanks. I think I will.” She crossed the room and draped the warm plaid around her shoulders before returning to the counter.

Matt rummaged through some containers in the supplies he'd brought and gave a murmur of pleasure. “Here it is.” He uncovered a plastic bowl filled with greens, before uncorking a bottle of liquid. “Yancy makes the best salad dressing in the world.” He glanced at Vanessa. “I dare you to find one better in Chicago.”

“That's a pretty bold bet.” She shot him a knowing grin. “We have hundreds of fine restaurants in the Windy City.”

“I've sampled a lot of them. But none could compare with Yancy's dressing.”

She thought about arguing, but instead glanced around. “Will we eat at the table, or here at the counter?”

“Let's use the table.” He nodded toward a cupboard beside him. “Dishes in there. You'll find silverware in that drawer.”

While she set the table, he filled two salad bowls with greens and set the container of dressing beside them.

Vanessa carried them to the table.

Matt dropped the oven-warmed bread into a basket and snagged the bottle of wine before crossing to the table.

After tasting Yancy's dressing, Vanessa gave a sound of approval. “Oh, that's wonderful.”

“I thought you'd like it.” Matt broke off a piece of crusty bread. “This is home baked, too.”

“Your cook could work in any fine restaurant in the country. What keeps him at your ranch?”

Matt grinned. “You'll have to ask him. He's got quite a tale to tell. But I suspect Yancy wouldn't be tempted to leave Montana for twice the salary.”

He pushed away from the table and returned minutes later with two steaming bowls of chili. On a tray between them were dishes containing shredded cheese, red pepper flakes, snippets of green onion, and crispy crackers.

“Before you start eating, I'll bring you a glass of water.”

When he set the glass in front of her, she shot him a look. “Do you think this is my first taste of chili?”

“It's your first taste of Yancy's chili.” He dug in and was finishing his second spoonful when he heard the quick gasp of breath across the table.

He looked up in time to watch Vanessa down the water in one long swallow.

“That was—” she reached for a word to describe the eye-watering heat “—really spicy.”

“The wranglers refer to it as Yancy Martin's gut-burning masterpiece.”

“An apt description.” She laughed as she attempted a second bite. This time, prepared for the quick burn, she merely smiled before adding a little cheese, onion, and cracker to the bowl. “But I have to say, this may be the best chili I've ever tasted.”

Matt looked at her with new respect. “Any woman who can dig into Yancy's chili has to be a lot tougher than she looks.”

“Thanks.”

While Matt polished off a second bowl, Vanessa finished her first before sitting back and sipping her wine. “That was incredible. From the salad dressing to the chili. A really unexpected treat.”

“I'm glad you liked it. I hope you won't take offense at the fact that the chili was a gift from the wild.”

At her blank look, he smiled. “The meat was venison. A deer I tracked on the South Ridge a few months ago. Yancy managed to turn it into steaks, hamburger, and stew meat.”

“Are you hoping to shock me?” She resisted touching a hand to her stomach, though the impulse was strong.

“Maybe. A little. But in truth, I think you ought to realize that there's another valid reason for killing animals in the wild. Though it may not be necessary in Chicago, here in Montana we not only care for the land, but we live off it. Deer are plentiful, and though some ranchers hunt them for sport, my family only kills enough to eat.”

“Now that you've brought up the fact of sport hunting, I have to ask: Shouldn't it be regulated, for the sake of preserving wild species?”

He stared into his glass. “That sounds noble. But what about the rancher who can barely make ends meet by ranching? Is he to be denied the chance to open his land to hunters who pay very generously for the privilege of sleeping under the stars and stalking their prey on a range in Montana?”

“Again, you make it all about profit.”

He glanced over. His eyes narrowed slightly. “And you make
profit
sound like a dirty word. For every successful rancher here in Montana, there are a dozen barely hanging on. There are ranches, many of them in the same family for generations, being auctioned off every month. Do you know what that does to a man whose only dream was to carry on the work of his father and grandfather? I've seen proud men reduced to tears because they've lost everything. So, if opening their land to hunters, or turning their places into dude ranches so city folk can experience life on a working ranch, helps pay the bills, I say more power to them.”

Vanessa bit her lip. “You're very persuasive. You'd probably make a very good trial lawyer.”

“Just hoping to give you another point of view.”

“You have. And I intend to take it under advisement.” She shoved away from the table. “Since you cooked, I insist on cleaning up.”

As she filled the sink with hot water and began washing the dishes, Matt surprised her by walking up beside her and picking up a towel.

“I said I'd wash them.”

“I appreciate that. And I'll dry.” He reached over her head and returned a bowl to the cupboard.

Vanessa went very still, feeling a tingle along her spine.

When he returned a second bowl, the back of his hand brushed her hair and she experienced little pinpricks all along her skin.

It had to be fatigue. And the fact that she was jumpy because of the storm. Still, it had her holding herself stiffly until he'd put away all the dishes.

“How about a fresh pot of coffee?”

She merely nodded.

A short time later she carried two cups of coffee to the footstool positioned between the two rockers in front of the fire.

Matt followed with a plate of brownies.

As the storm blew itself out, they sat by the fire, nibbling Yancy's homemade brownies, sipping coffee, and taking opposing sides in the discussion about wild animals.

At least, Vanessa thought with a sigh of relief, they were no longer arguing. Rather, they both seemed to be enjoying the give-and-take, and the satisfaction each time one of them made a valid point in their favor.

As the fire burned low, Vanessa stifled a yawn.

Matt pointed to the bunk bed in the corner. “Let's face it. Burke isn't getting here tonight. If he could get through, he'd have been here hours ago. You can bunk there.”

“Where will you sleep?”

He pointed to the pullout sofa bed.

She needed no coaxing. She barely had the energy to slip out of her shoes and suit jacket before draping the plaid afghan around herself and dropping onto the bunk.

She'd expected the bunk to be hard, and it was. But she was too tired to care. She was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

Matt added another log to the fire and filled his cup with coffee before adding a splash of his grandfather's fine Irish whiskey. Easing off his boots, he settled himself into the rocker and nudged the footstool to a more comfortable position.

The rain gentled to a steady patter on the roof.

He leaned his head back, enjoying the sounds of the night and the hiss and snap of the logs on the grate.

He'd expected to resent this intrusion on his privacy. Always before, he'd treated this alone time in the hills as his sacred right, especially after a long overseas trip. And this cabin was much more to him than a simple range shack. It was his very private domain. His haven. And had been, since the loss of his parents. But he had to admit that he'd enjoyed the spirited debate between himself and this woman. Vanessa Kettering. Nessa.

His lips curved into a smile. Nessa. The nickname suited her.

She was bright. Sharp. Quick with a response to every question he'd thrown at her.

And gorgeous.

He turned to glance at the woman asleep across the room. She'd drawn the plaid afghan up to her chin. Even with her eyes closed, he could see them. A rich maple-sugar brown that could sharpen with anger or go wide with fear. And when she smiled, they crinkled at the corners. That smile did something to his heart.

His first impression of her had been all wrong. With those long, long legs, the city suit, the designer shoes, and that mane of blond hair dancing in the breeze, she'd looked as out of place stepping out of Burke's truck in the wilderness as a prom queen at a mud-wrestling match. But once they got down to the business that had brought her here, she'd been an able opponent.

He had to admit that he'd actually enjoyed their little tug-of-war. And wouldn't mind going another round or two in the morning.

That admission had him smiling.

He drained his cup and got to his feet. Across the room he set the empty cup in the sink before turning to the pullout sofa bed.

He preferred to sleep naked. But out of deference to his guest, he simply stripped off his shirt and peeled away his socks.

Climbing beneath the covers, he lay listening to the soft patter of raindrops on the roof.

It took him longer than usual to fall asleep. He tossed and turned, trying in vain to get comfortable. But an hour later he was still wide awake and crossing to the window to stare out into the darkness.

He absently reached for one of Nelson's fine cigars and held a flame to the tip. Smoke curled above his head as he studied his beloved hills, which were shrouded in darkness, looking like silent sentinels keeping watch over the herds they nurtured.

As a boy, he'd dreamed of traveling to exotic places to escape the tedious work that he and his brothers were expected to share. It had seemed, to a boy of twelve, that there were too many adults directing his life, taking away any chance of making his own choices. And yet the older he got, the more he learned, and the stronger his bond with this land and his family became. He'd traveled the world and hadn't once found a place that compared with this.

It was his roots. His anchor. His passion.

He stubbed out the last of his cigar and made his way back to bed, lying as still as possible, listening to the soft, steady sound of breathing from the figure across the room.

He was intrigued by her. Fascinated with her quick mind.

Who was he kidding? It wasn't her mind he'd coveted.

Not only was she absolutely beautiful, but the entire time they'd been debating, he'd had to fight an overpowering desire to kiss her. That admission made him feel like a teenager with a crush on some hot movie star. And the fact that her mere presence in his space had him thinking things better left alone just added to his discomfort.

Sometime in the small hours of the night he finally fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. But only after assuring himself that he would find a way to send Vanessa Kettering back to Chicago first thing in the morning, even if it meant slogging through waist-high mud to do it.

And then he could return to the business of enjoying his wilderness.

He could savor the solitude that he'd always craved. The solitude that had always managed to soothe his lonely, restless soul. A soul that yearned for something…something indefinable triggered by the loss of his parents that no other relationship had since been able to fill.

V
anessa awoke and lay very still, fighting through the last cobwebs of sleep. After a few moments of confusion, she remembered where she was. A cabin in the hills of Montana. And then a second thought. Matthew Malloy.

Keeping the blanket hugging her like a shield, she peered around in the dim light of the fire's embers. Spotting the figure on the sofa bed across the room, she tossed aside the blanket and made her way to the tiny bathroom.

She couldn't recall the last time she'd slept in her work clothes. She felt rumpled and thoroughly uncomfortable as she undressed and stepped under the shower's spray. Though the water was only lukewarm, it wasn't cold enough to have her shivering. Minutes later she dried herself and wrapped a towel around her hair before dressing in the same wrinkled clothes she'd slept in. Then she tossed her head and finger-combed her hair, letting it fall in soft waves about her shoulders.

She made her way to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. While it perked, she crossed to the fireplace and struggled to add a log to the embers. When she'd finished, she watched as a thin flame began to lick across the dry bark. Satisfied, she stepped back with a smile.

“Not bad for a city slicker.”

Matt's voice had her swiveling her head to give him a startled look.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“Don't apologize. I'm usually awake at dawn. I'd have helped you with that log, but I didn't want to scare you and have you drop it on your foot.”

“I probably would have. So thanks, I think. At least I managed by myself.” She gave a self-conscious laugh, knowing he'd been watching her struggles. “Well, barely.”

“You did just fine. You wrangled a log half your body weight into the fireplace. That takes some doing.”

At his words of praise, she felt an unexpected glow.

When he stood up, she found herself gaping before she managed to look away. He was barefoot and naked to the waist, his denims unsnapped and low on his hips.

“I heard the shower. I hope you gave the water time to heat up.”

“I didn't know it would get warmer.”

A smile teased his lips. “You took a cold shower?”

“Not cold, exactly. But not really warm.”

“I apologize. I should have warned you. The water tank is heated by the fireplace.”

“Gee. Thanks for not telling me sooner.”

“You're welcome.” He crossed the room and paused outside the door to the bathroom. “But thanks to your efforts, I get to enjoy a really hot shower.”

“Just remember. For that, you owe me big-time.”

“I'll figure a way to pay you back.” He shot her a wicked grin.

When he closed the door, Vanessa let out a long, slow breath. She could think of one way he could pay her back. What a gorgeous body. All sculpted muscle and sinew. A body so toned, he could be a poster boy for a major weight-training company. If this was any indication of what Montana cowboys were like, she wanted more.

How had she not noticed last night? She must have been a lot more travel weary than she'd realized.

A short time later she looked up from her coffee to see him wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and a pair of faded denims. As he bent to pull on his boots, his hair and heavily bearded chin sparkled in the light of the fire with little droplets of water from the shower.

He looked over with a grin. “I've got to say, the smell of that coffee has me starving.”

“Me, too.” She felt a quick rush of guilt, knowing it wasn't food she'd been thinking about.

“Since you made the coffee, I'll rustle up breakfast.” He moved around the stove and grabbed a skillet, then went to work frying sausages and eggs with the ease of someone who knew his way around a kitchen.

“Something tells me this isn't your first time cooking for yourself.”

He shrugged. “When you grow up on a ranch, you'd better know how to take care of yourself. There's nobody trailing behind to cater to your needs.”

“How about your mother? Is she a good cook?”

He paused for just a fraction before flipping the eggs onto two plates. “My parents died when I was twelve. An accident on a snow-covered road.”

“I'm sorry.” Vanessa accepted the plate from his hand and led the way to the table. As he sat across from her, she added, “I lost my mother when I was fifteen. Cancer.”

He met her look across the table. “It never goes away, does it? There's always a shadow lingering somewhere in our mind.”

She nodded.

For a few minutes they ate in silence, feeling an odd sense of shared pain.

Matt shoved back his chair and retrieved the coffeepot, topping off her cup and then his own.

When he sat down he leaned back. “Do you live at home, or do you have your own place?”

“I live with my father. I toy with the idea of getting my own place. But so far I've resisted, since I travel between Chicago and DC so often. We really enjoy each other's company. Often my dad works so late, I may as well live alone. But when he does manage to get home for supper, it's nice to have the time to visit and catch up on life.”

Matt smiled. “What does your father do?”

“He's the district attorney for Cook County.”

Matt's raised brow said more than words. “No wonder he often doesn't make it home for supper.”

“Yeah.” She shook her head. “And on top of that, he's a workaholic. He can't leave it at the office. Most nights he brings home stacks of documents to read late into the night.”

“Those must be some pretty high-profile cases he's dealing with.”

Vanessa nodded. “He often jokes that there must be something in Chicago's air to bring so many criminals to his district.”

Matt regarded her. “So that's why you went into law?”

She shrugged. “In the beginning. I've always wanted to be like my dad. Especially since losing my mother. He used to say the two of us were joined at the hip. If I get hurt, he bleeds. If I have a problem, he won't sleep until it's resolved. So it was a given that I'd study law. But midway through my courses, I realized that I didn't want to pursue criminal law. I found myself wanting to get involved in social justice.”

“And that led to animal activism.”

“Exactly. It's something I'm passionate about. And I think I can make a difference.”

“Is your father disappointed that you didn't follow him into criminal law?”

She chuckled. “I'm sure he's had some twinges. He made it clear that there would always be a place for me on his staff. But I think he's proud of the fact that I want to make my own way.”

Matt nodded. “He should be proud.”

She eyed him over the rim of her cup. “Even though my choice has brought me to your doorstep to meddle with your privacy?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah. Lucky me. Now I get to spar with an animal activist who's passionate about saving every wolf, deer, and bear in these hills.”

“Bear?” She raised a brow. “Have you seen bears in this area?”

He gave a negligent shrug. “Sure. And right about now they're waking from hibernation and feeling mean and hungry. Want to go on a mission to feed them?”

“That depends. Would I be the food?”

He wiggled his brows like a mock villain. “You'd be a tasty morsel, little lady.”

That had her laughing aloud. “Gee, thanks.”

He started to gather up the dishes, and once again, as she had the previous night, she stopped him. “You made breakfast. I can clean these.”

“Okay.” He got to his feet and removed his parka from a hook by the door. “I'll chop some logs. It'll give me a chance to see what damage that storm did.”

When he was gone, Vanessa finished her coffee before picking up the dishes and heading toward the sink.

Yesterday she'd thought being stuck in this godforsaken wilderness was the worst possible situation. Today, after a good night's sleep and a satisfying breakfast, it was feeling more like an adventure.

Of course, having had a good look at the sexy cowboy sharing this adventure put a whole new spin on things.

As she washed the dishes and stowed them away, she found herself smiling. If she hurried, she might catch him chopping wood.

Visions of silly cowboy movies played through her mind. A gorgeous hunk, shirtless of course, working up a sweat while whittling away on a downed tree. A helpless maiden being scooped up in his arms, clinging breathlessly to her hero.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. First of all, he may be gorgeous and hunky, but she was no helpless female in need of strong arms. And second, she was quite certain the cowboy who brought her here would be driving up very soon to return her to civilization.

And though she would miss the spirited give-and-take of last night with Matthew Malloy, it was time she got back to reality. If she spent too much time up here, she might just lose touch altogether.

Matt gathered up an armload of logs and made his way to the cabin just as Vanessa pulled open the door.

While she held it, he stepped inside and deposited the wood alongside the fireplace.

“That was quick.”

He wiped his hands on his pants before turning. “I can't take credit for chopping all of this today. Some of it was left over from yesterday.”

“Is there much damage from the storm?”

He nodded toward the doorway. “See for yourself.”

She stepped outside and he followed.

“There's no snow.” She looked down. The ground, which yesterday had been snow covered, was now a sea of mud.

“Yeah. Better watch where you step. Some of that could be ankle deep.”

She paused to study a giant evergreen leaning at a precarious angle. “Isn't that dangerous?”

Matt nodded. “I'll have the crew take it down as soon as they can get up here with some chainsaws.”

“What's holding it up?”

He shrugged. “Probably some roots buried deep enough to keep it from falling all the way.”

“Could it have crushed the cabin last night?”

He smiled. “From the angle it's leaning, I'd say it was in a better position to take out a couple more trees.” He pointed. “It would have taken Noah's flood to carry it this far.”

She gave a sigh of relief.

Matt pointed to a rock ledge not far from the cabin. “If you stand up there, you can see for miles.”

As she started forward he moved along beside her until they reached the ledge. He closed strong fingers around her wrist. “This is as far as you want to go.” He pointed. “That ravine may not look too deep, because it's covered over with a wild tangle of brush. But it's actually a drop-off that falls hundreds of yards down. It would be like dropping from the top of one of your Chicago skyscrapers.”

With a hand to her throat she stepped back from the edge, feeling a quick, jittery rush of panic.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

She shook her head. “I didn't think so. But that left me a little…shaky.”

Or was it the nearness of this man as he surveyed his land? His kingdom? Or maybe it was the strength in those fingers as they'd closed around her wrist. The mere thought of him had her sweating. Whatever the reason, she was feeling breathless. And more than a little shaken.

At the sound of ringing, Matt retrieved his cell phone from his pocket. “Hey, Burke. I'm surprised we can get a signal up here.” He listened, then added, “Okay. I'll tell her.”

As he tucked his phone away he turned. “Burke thinks the trail is passable. He's leaving camp now. By the time he gets here, he'll have a pretty good idea of the damage done and whether or not he can make it back to the ranch.”

Vanessa swallowed back a twinge of unexpected disappointment. Her little adventure had just come to an end.

“Well.” She reached for the cell phone in the pocket of her skirt. “I guess I can phone home now.”

She pressed the button for her father's number and was surprised when his message came on without a single ring.

“Hi, Dad. It's me. Sorry I couldn't get through to you until now. I'm hoping to be home before too late tonight.”

Feeling oddly deflated at not being able to speak with her father, she turned toward the door. “I guess I'll just gather up my papers and be ready to leave. I wouldn't want to hold Burke up.”

Before Matt could follow her inside, his phone rang again. He remained outside, listening in silence.

When he finally stepped into the cabin, he crossed to the kitchen and began filling a box with food containers.

She watched him. “Won't you need that?”

He shook his head. “Looks like I'm leaving, too. I'll have Burke haul this down the mountain while I ride behind on my horse.”

“Is anything wrong?”

He looked over, his face devoid of emotion. “Just some storm damage at the ranch.”

“I hope it's nothing serious.”

He gave a shrug. “Nothing new in these parts.” He set the box on the floor near the door. “I'm sure we'll handle it.”

Hearing the sound of a truck's engine, she started past him. As her body brushed against his, she felt a sudden, shocking sexual jolt.

She paused for a mere moment, tipping her face up to his, her eyes wide, her breath catching in her throat.

Matt reached for the door, but instead of opening it, he kept his voice low. “I'm sorry again you had to spend the night.”

“I'm not.” The words slipped out before she had time to think. Then, trying to cover her lapse, she bit her lower lip. “I'm not sorry, Matt. Whenever I look back on this, I'll think of it as my excellent Montana adventure.”

He was staring at her mouth in a way that had her throat going dry. There was a hint of a smile on his lips. “I hope I won't be a villain in your memory.”