Snowed (3 page)

Leah laughed.

“You just met that pig Mike Carleton, like, yesterday, am I right?” Kara didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m right. Trust me, hon. I mean, you seem like a nice girl
—
that’s why I’m saying this. Find another ride home. I’ll give you a lift back to the city myself. You hear what I’m saying? You don’t know the guy. I do.”

Leah smiled. She liked Kara already. “No problem. I kind of figured that one out for myself.”

“Good girl.” Kara squeezed her hand.

“Kara, maybe you can clear something up for me. I thought Bradburn was
—
”

Kara jerked her head toward something behind Leah. “Whatever it is, you can ask him yourself.”

Leah whirled around and saw the object of her confusion closing in on them with long-legged strides. She swallowed hard.

“Kara...dear, sweet Kara...” Bradburn’s voice was a deep rumble, his smile menacing. “You shouldn’t have.”

Leah’s knees went weak with relief. Bradburn was practically on top of her, but his attention was directed at his agent. He wore a black wool turtleneck, faded blue jeans, and scuffed leather boots. His straight black hair was pushed back from his face and nearly grazed his shoulders. Leah was close enough to detect the warmth of his body and his clean, masculine scent.

Kara burst into laughter and winked impudently at James. The feisty agent was about five feet tall, and he was easily six four.

“You don’t scare me, James, so you can drop the fire-breathing act.” Kara snared a passing waiter. “Get Mr. Bradburn a double Maker’s Mark. Make that a triple. He needs it. Happy thirty-fifth birthday, you ungrateful beast.” She stretched up on tiptoes to peck his cheek, her eyes still sparking with mischief.

A small crowd had formed around the pair, and Leah felt herself being pushed even closer to the big man. She was annoyed with herself, with her own trip-hammer heartbeat, the way her breath snagged in her chest. She’d have given anything at that moment to be able to slither away.

“This is war, Greene,” he challenged. “I’ll retaliate when you least expect it
—
perhaps for your fiftieth birthday. Next month, isn’t it?”

A chorus of “whoas” and “ouches” accompanied this wicked jab as the crowd warmed to the battle. Kara shrieked with laughter, while James appeared to be struggling to suppress a grin.

The waiter returned and reached past Leah to deliver a cut-crystal rocks glass filled to the brim with bourbon and ice. Someone jostled the waiter and he barreled into Leah. She slammed up against James’s hard chest and reflexively pushed him away, just as he gingerly took possession of the glass.

A wave of cold liquor struck her face
—
a direct hit. Astonishment snatched the air from her lungs. The crowd receded as ice skidded across the parquet floor. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for sudden death, the humiliation of Leah Harmony having been successfully completed.

A pair of large, heavy hands closed on her shoulders, steadying her. Through stubbornly closed eyelids she detected the searing heat of a blue-fire gaze. At length James’s patience won out and grudgingly she looked up into eyes the color of a wide Arkansas sky. There were undertones of appreciation in his bold scrutiny. And amusement. A few people tittered, but he silenced them with a glance.

James accepted a towel from a waiter and gently wiped Leah’s face, all the while examining her with undisguised interest, from sullen hazel eyes to bourbon-spattered shoes. She felt the stinging heat of a blush crawl up her neck.

“Well, whoever you are,” he chuckled, “I must say you hold your liquor well.”

The crowd erupted in laughter while Leah’s cheeks burned hotter still. Kara clucked like a mother hen and wiped Leah’s dress with a napkin. “Oh Gawd, this is just great. Bourbon. You’ll stink to high heaven. Mary!” she bellowed, and hustled her out the doorway into the front hall, a room of intricate woodwork, pink marble, and leaded glass. There the elderly Scottish housekeeper assessed her condition in one swift glance and immediately took charge.

“I dinna know why things ha’ to get so wild. Poor duck.” Mary started up the winding staircase, and Leah had no choice but to follow along docilely. Her head was pounding and she felt light-headed. She gripped the mahogany banister for support. She’d sort out this mess tomorrow, she decided. Tonight Kara would give her a ride back to the city, and she’d have a chance to rest and think.

Mary led her down a hallway into a large, old-fashioned bathroom that looked as if it might have once been a bedroom. The first thing she noticed was the huge claw-footed, rolled-edge bathtub. It reminded her of the one in her parents’ house in Arkansas, only this one was in perfect condition, with state-of-the-art polished brass and enamel fixtures.

A mahogany chest of drawers dominated one wall; Mary extracted a white towel and washcloth from one of the drawers and handed them to Leah. The floor was bleached oak partially covered with an oval braided rug. An oak-framed mirror hung over the old-fashioned pedestal sink. In the corners were an antique Windsor chair and a coat tree.

“I’ll take yer shoes and bag and get them cleaned up, lass. And give me that dress and your hose. I’ll run them through the machine.”

Leah dabbed at the stains with a damp washcloth. “Oh, uh...that’s okay, I’ll just
—
”

“Good Lord above, ye canna be goin’ round drenched in spirits, smellin’ like a godforsaken bourbon distillery. I’ll get yer clothes clean and dry. Then ye can go back downstairs and get some proper Scotch whiskey poured on ye.” Mary’s tone brooked no opposition; briskly she unbuttoned the damp khaki dress. When Leah was down to bra and panties, Mary grabbed a red silk kimono from the coat tree and bundled her into it.

The kimono felt like heaven next to her skin. It was much too large for her, making her feel all the more helpless and coddled. She found herself breathing deeply to inhale the faint fragrance that permeated the silk...warm, masculine, a bit spicy. Without warning, she recalled being pressed against James Bradburn, and to her annoyance, she blushed anew.

Leah washed the bourbon off her face and neck, then Mary led her down the hallway to a room that smelled of leather and lemon oil. It was a masculine room, furnished in dark oak and green leather. The floor-to-ceiling shelves lining every wall were crammed with books. A navy and cream Oriental carpet warmed her toes. Clearly this was James Bradburn’s library.

“Pick up a book and I’ll be back before you know it.” Mary peered closely at Leah. “Ach, you look exhausted, lass. It’ll be an hour at least before you have your dress back. There’s a nice cozy guest room across the hall. Why don’t you go lie down awhile? I’ll just leave your things on this desk if you’re not here.” She looked down. “So there ye are, Stieglitz.”

Leah followed Mary’s gaze to the carpet, where a large black cat rubbed itself languorously against the housekeeper’s legs. He repeated the caress on Leah, sliding against the kimono and disappearing inside the voluminous folds of silk to rub against her legs.

“Why, Stieglitz, ye rude old tom,” Mary scolded. “Aren’t ye ashamed now?” A deep purr was his only response.

“It’s all right,” Leah said, leaning down to stroke the animal’s shiny black fur, “I like cats.” The purr turned into a loud rumble of contentment, like a well-oiled engine. Leah laughed.

“‘Twould seem the feelin’s mutual,” Mary observed. “Ye should feel honored. Old Stieglitz is a cranky thing; he only tolerates me because I feed ‘im. Now, dinna go pesterin’ this young lady, ye hear me? She’s got no treats for ye, old fool.”

“Mary, can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.”

“I thought Mr. Bradburn was a much older man. In his sixties?”

“Why, lass, ye be thinkin’ of James Bradburn, Sr. The lad’s father passed on three years ago March. Of course, he was a fine photographer himself, but if ye be wantin’ my opinion, the young one’s the better of the two. Not to speak ill of the dearly departed, mind you.”

Mary’s words confirmed Leah’s suspicions. Conflicting emotions warred within her and she was grateful she wouldn’t have to face anyone for a while. “Thanks, Mary. And thanks so much for cleaning my things.”

“Don’t mention it, lass.”

Once she was alone in the library, Leah browsed the shelves. Mary’s offer of the guest room was tempting, but she didn’t want to risk dozing off and missing her ride. “Well, Stieglitz, what shall we read, hmm?” Finally she selected one of the myriad books of photographs James owned, this one featuring pictures of children. She curled up on an armchair with Stieglitz and the volume on her lap and struggled to stay awake as the minutes ticked by.

From down the hall came the thunderous sound of a door slamming, accompanied by a muffled curse. Leah’s brow wrinkled. She’d thought she was alone on the second floor. More doors opened and closed, closer now.

She froze at the sound of Mike’s inebriated voice right outside the library door, swearing vehemently. “Where the hell did those two get off to?”

Stieglitz came to attention, his tail snaking back and forth. The door swung open and there stood Mike Carleton, swaying, staring at her in confusion. He sniffed wetly and rubbed his nose with his knuckles. Obviously he’d spent the last half hour holed up somewhere upstairs sniffing cocaine with his loathsome buddies.

Stieglitz sprang off her lap and bolted between Mike’s legs and out the door. Leah jumped to her feet. Every instinct told her this was trouble. Mike’s bloodshot eyes perused her kimono-clad form with insolent familiarity as she consciously fought the impulse to pull the robe more tightly around her. It wouldn’t do to show fear.

“Been waiting for me, huh, sweetie? I had you pegged for a frigid one, but it looks like I was wrong.” He turned unsteadily and closed the door behind him. She tried to sweep past him, but he caught her wrists in a bruising grip. “Hold it, moonshine. Where’re you going?”

“Get your hands off
—
”

“You mean it’s not me you’re waiting for? You hurt my feelings, sweetheart.” He manacled both wrists in one beefy hand, squeezing painfully as she struggled to free herself. His other hand yanked at the kimono’s sash. Leah started to scream and his hand whipped out and cracked across her face, throwing her into a table and onto the floor. “You got a problem with etiquette, babe.” Mike fumbled with the buckle of his belt as she staggered to her feet, holding her throbbing cheek. “Maybe they do things different in Kansas, but lemme set you straight.” He swore at his belt buckle and leaned on the nearby desk until his equilibrium returned. His insulting parody of a southern accent returned with a vengeance. “You-all came to this here hootenanny with little ol’ me, an’ you-all’s gonna go home with little ol’ me. That’s the way it works in these here parts. Got it? It just plum ain’t po-lite to go servicin’ some other hombre.”

He dropped the accent and skewered her with a dangerous look. “Now I know why you were so hot to come here tonight
—
so you could cozy up to Bradburn. Lemme tell you something, sweetheart.” He got the buckle open at last and triumphantly unzipped his pants. “Mike Carleton doesn’t appreciate being used. Not by a hick little piece like you, that’s for damn sure.”

He lunged for her, and she dodged him with all the adrenaline-fueled speed at her disposal. She feinted right and darted left and was nearly to the door before a befuddled Mike finally managed to tackle her to the carpet. He was only three or four inches taller than her five six, but he was heavy, and he used his weight to immobilize her, stealing her breath. She fought with every ounce of strength in her slender body as he tore open the kimono. That action freed her legs and she brought her knee up hard.

Mike easily deflected it. He snickered as he yanked her head back by her hair and pinned her securely beneath him. She felt a sickening wash of terror. “That little move never works as good as a girl thinks it will,” he taunted. His face was close to hers, so close she nearly gagged on his sour breath. She felt the hard ridge of his arousal straining under his pants as he rubbed himself against her. His hands pawed her, brutally squeezing her breast through her bra. He groped for the waistband of her bikini panties.

This is really going to happen!

That thought galvanized her.
Like hell it is!

Mike’s sweaty face bore down on hers, his wet lips opening to cover her mouth. In the next instant he was shrieking like a steam whistle and clutching his nose, now creased with the imprints of her teeth. Not allowing a nanosecond for him to recover, she immediately struck upward again with her knee, summoning every last shred of strength in one concentrated blow.

The well-placed kick left Mike in gaping, retching shock. Leah was out from under him and into the hall before he’d drawn his first breath. Blindly she bolted down the long corridor, the kimono flying behind her like the wings of some giant crimson bird, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

As the end of the hall rushed toward her, reflexively she darted through the last doorway, slamming the door and turning the lock. Her chest heaved as she slid down the door and sat there, trembling, straining her ears for sounds of pursuit. All she could hear was her own rasping breaths.

Leah stumbled across the moon-silvered room to the big four-poster bed and collapsed on the white linen duvet cover, drawing the kimono tightly around herself. A few moments of rest, that was all she needed. Then she’d pull herself together, get her clothes, and catch that ride back to Manhattan. A few moments of rest...

*

Sunlight teased Leah’s eyelids until, grudgingly, they creaked open
—
just enough to sense the new day. She sighed heavily and closed them again. Remaining curled on her left side, she burrowed deeper under the comforter, snuggling into the warm, solid presence behind her. What a relief, she thought, to get her first good night’s sleep in so long
—

Her eyes snapped open.

The powerful arm tightened around her waist, pulling her backward. Its hand drifted over the front of the kimono and gently cupped her breast. Leah swallowed hard as breath fluttered her hair in the slow, even cadence of sleep.