THE TIME STAR (2 page)

He dared to peek downward. She wore trousers
so snug that they molded themselves to every shapely curve of her legs, just as
her chemise did.

But no gown? Of course it would have
been awkward to stuff one into her outer garment, but-

The woman moaned again. Thomas took one
of his woolen blankets and tucked it about her body. He shouldn't be staring.
The poor thing would probably faint when she'd discovered he'd undressed her.
If she awoke and found herself without some modest covering, she may not take
kindly to his attempts to help her. But still, she was injured. He should at
least find out where.

If she would only awaken and tell him...

He pivoted and strode to his table.
Taking the only medical book he owned from the shelf above, he sat down. Then,
after opening the book, he adjusted up the oil lamp.

'
When fainting in women is not caused
by the Vapours, brandy may be administered. If the patient is unconscious,
administer it through the-
'

Horrified, Thomas slammed the book shut.
Thank God he had no brandy here.

That's it. He would have to wake her.

Feeling a gentle nudge, Waneeta hauled
open her eyes and focused on the most piercing blue gaze she'd ever seen.

"Hello, Miss," a deep voice
resonated through her.

She blinked. The man's ruddy face was
framed by a thick crop of dark brown waves. It was an odd foil for such
startling eyes. She could see straight, white teeth, a strong jaw and the
sweetest set of dimples that had ever bookended a smile.

Her breath drained from her. This man
was gorgeous. And those eyes! Words couldn't do them justice. The blue was as pure
as a winter's morning sky. When Waneeta finally inhaled, pain shot through her,
and she winced.

"I was going to ask you how you
feel, but I can see it isn't good," he said. "Where does it hurt?"

In answer to his question, she lifted
her shirt and peered down at the ugly bruising on her side. A large cigar shaped
rash curved along her lowest rib. "Right here. I think a branch got me."

The man frowned. Without touching her,
he bent to examine it.

"Are you a doctor?" she asked
suddenly.

The man jumped back. "No, I'm, um, a
schoolteacher," he said with obvious embarrassment.

Waneeta bit back a smile. An actual
gentleman. Now this was refreshing. "Which school?" Being a local
girl, she knew of most of the schools in the county.

He rose and reached for a tin from the
mantle behind him. "Nowhere at the moment, miss," he said. "I,
er, just finished my studies in Kingston." Gingerly, Waneeta shifted her
weight as she watched him. He was oddly dressed for a teacher, but then again,
he couldn't be expected to bring his best suits to a cabin in the woods.

Still, that outfit? He wore a heavy
woolen shirt tucked into dark pants held up by suspenders that stretched over a
nicely massive chest. Her grandfather wore clothes like this when he went
hunting. She followed the length of him down to the floor. On this guy's feet
were thick, wool socks like the ones her grandmother used to knit. They were
pulled over the hems of his pants as if to block the draft.

The man walked over to a small dry sink.
"You've grazed the skin. I can put something on it if you like."

She felt her face warm. His hands on
her? Interesting idea, and if she'd been any healthier, well...

...then she wouldn't need his hands on
her, would she?

Despite her pain, she nearly snickered
out loud. Immediately, she stopped. It hurt.

Thomas pulled a strip of white linen
from a paper wrap above the sink. Then he carefully poured some black liquid from
the tin onto the cloth before returning to her. Waneeta clamped her eyes shut, gritting
her teeth as she waited for the sting.

When it never came, she peeked up to
find a wide grin plastered on her companion's face, the white teeth glimmering
in the fire light.

"I won't hurt you, Miss, I promise,"
he told her with the smallest, cheekiest laugh.

This guy is so polite. Waneeta offered him
a wobbly, sheepish smile. As he gently dabbed the rash, Waneeta inhaled
vigorously, not from the stinging, but from his warm hand as it brushed against
her skin. It was as if every single nerve ending she owned tingled at the same
time.

Oh, this is foolish. "Here, let me." 
She took the cloth and applied the iodine on the scrape herself. From the
corner of her eye, she could feel the man shift away. But still so close, so
there
in her presence.

Injured or not, she recognized the
attraction for what it was. Purely physical.

And yeah, despite the pain, welcomed.

Insane. But she wasn't about to deny her
own reactions. She just needed to control them better. She thrust out the
cloth. "All done." Their eyes met, and Waneeta found the sharp blue
softening. He took the rag over to the enamel wash basin and rinsed it out with
water from a pitcher. She watched him; oh, it was hard not to. He filled the
whole room. His massive shoulders and thick muscular arms told her he worked
out regularly.

I guess hauling water and wood in a
hunting cabin keeps a guy in shape. Thank God for rural living
, she thought
with an appreciative smile.

The smile faded. She was only here
because something really creepy happened to her. Hopefully tomorrow, she'd walk
down that snowshoe trail and find the snow well-packed, the trail obvious, and
everything normal again. 

Waneeta blew on her injury, checking to
see if it was dry so it wouldn't stain her clothes. It was still damp, and while
she waited, she made good use of her time by glancing around the cabin.

Simple furnishings crowded around the
hearth made the cabin rustic and old-fashioned. To the left of the fireplace stood
a washstand and to the right of it, the bed she rested on. The rough-hewn table
with a single bench on one side was shoved against the side opposite the hearth.
Beside the door sat a large, squat barrel. On the side closest to her stood a
well-preserved pie safe.

The ceiling was low, not even seven
feet. Since her host towered over six, Waneeta was sure; it must have been uncomfortable
living here. The roof sloped to meet the walls at an even shorter height. He
wouldn't be able to stand comfortably and look out of the window. Two huge logs
spanned the length above her, supporting, Waneeta presumed, the logs on the
roof. She looked up again, a frown forming. Logs on the roof? The logs on the walls
had their gaps sealed with whitewashed clay, but the logs on the roof remained
unsealed. How was it that the roof didn't leak?

She pointed at the ceiling. "Why
didn't you seal those logs?"

Thomas frowned at the odd question. He
followed the woman's gaze upward, where an understanding finally sank in.

"Oh, the roof? There are scoops on
the outside, too. You don't need to seal them. The rain runs down the upper
scoops and off the roof by way of the lower scoops."

"Scoops?"

He chuckled at her blank look. "The
logs are split lengthwise, scooped out and then laid side by side. Then more scoops
are laid over the joints. I guess you've never seen a camboose shanty before?"

When his guest shook her head, Thomas went
on. "They're built to house the shanty men at the lumber camp. I suppose a
lady such as you wouldn't be found around a lumber camp. Mind you, this isn't
exactly a camboose shanty. I have the fireplace instead of the open pit. I
wasn't anxious to have a gaping maw in my roof."

She laughed out loud at his description.
"Now you're beginning to sound like that teacher," she teased.

He shrugged. "A hazard of the
occupation. So, where are you from?"

"Pembroke. Lived there all my life.
Great place. I love it. There's always tons of stuff to do, especially in the
winter."

His eyebrows shot up. "Pembroke? What
are you doing so far into the woods?"

Waneeta didn't consider here that deep
in the woods, especially when she drove her Skidoo the whole way. Yes, it took
a few hours, but travelling that distance on a Skidoo wasn't unheard of. She
and Kevin had really planned a short ride, but the weather had been nice this
evening, and they'd kept on going. Not the wisest decision. But, she shrugged, when
a woman shows up alone at the doorstep of a strange man's cabin on a winter's
night, it's bound to raise a few eyebrows.

She waved away her host's question. "My
cousin took off on me and I lost his trail."
Yeah, and just wait until
I see Kevin next. Nice guy to take off.

The man lost his smile. "What a
delightful cousin."

Waneeta perked up when she abruptly
remembered what had happened. "I almost forgot! He took off because of the
meteorite! Didn't you see it?"

"Meteorite? Do you mean a shooting
star?" He shook his head. "No. But I've been inside all evening."

"Well, you must have heard it! It
passed right over top. It sounded like a freight train." She snatched up
her suit, ignoring the ache in her side. "It showered sparks all over my
suit! See?"

The man took it and examined it in the
firelight. Even from this distance, Waneeta could see the tiny spark holes.
Drat. The suit was new and now it was ruined.

Still fingering the material, he said, "I've
never seen anything like this material before. It seemed to melt rather than burn.
How could you think you were going to be warm in it? And where's your gown?"

Waneeta snorted unfemininely. "Gown?
You're not serious? Oh, you don't wear a dress under that." She watched
the man as he laid the suit back onto the chair to dry. "But it is made of
a new material. It only came out this winter. It's supposed to wick away the
sweat and reflect your body heat back to you." As manager of a sports
store, Waneeta had jumped at the opportunity to try out the latest sportswear
innovation. But now it was ruined. And two hundred bucks down the drain.

"Perhaps we can look for your
meteorite in the morning," her host suggested, turning to arrange the suit
closer to the fire.

"Thanks. And thank you for helping
me." She didn't mind spending the night here, and this guy certainly
wasn't giving off any creepy vibes. Not like that eerie feeling she had out
there by her snowmobile. She wasn't even sure how to describe that.

But should she be assuming she'd be
allowed to spend the night? To be honest, as she always strived to be, she
really didn't mind being here. It was cozy and a heck of a lot better than
being outside leaning against a broken snowmobile. But she should get back
home.

"Excuse me," she asked.
"You don't have a cell phone, do you?"

The man's expression turned blank.
"No. Should I have one?"

"It wouldn't be a bad idea out
here. I'd sure like to talk to my cousin."

"We'll find out which way he went,"
the man answered, a vague note to his voice and a frown on his face. "There
are a few homes closer to the river, so let's hope your cousin found them.
Though I have no sympathy for the man for leaving you, I don't want him to be
stuck outside all night."

That was true, and maybe it was poor
judgment on her part to go out tonight, with the weather forecast predicting
snow. But what was done was done, and couldn't be undone. "I'm not worried.
He's got the better machine and will probably go straight home, once he can't
find me. But I'll have to leave early tomorrow if you don't mind putting up
with me for the night. We're supposed to get more snow later on in the day,"
she said. She saw no radio or TV in her quick scan of the cabin, so it was
unlikely he'd caught the latest forecast. And with no cell phone to call
anyone-

The man swung around, amazed. "And
how do you know when it will snow?"

"From the weather channel, of
course. Well, up here, it's called a network, not a channel. Not that you'd get
cable service here. Or even satellite. My own cell service is spotty at best."

"Channel?  Cells?" His voice edged
with gentle teasing, he noted, "There are plenty of deep gorges here,
especially along the Barren River Canyon, but I don't know of any channels with
prophetic abilities. Are you a student of nature?"

Waneeta laughed out loud. Was he for
real? "No, but I've lived here all my life. When they say we'll get more
snow, you can be sure we will."

He frowned. "Here all your life and
never heard of a camboose shanty?"

"Well, you said yourself that a
lady doesn't have much to do with lumberjacks, right?" Of course she
didn't know any lumberjacks, except maybe some of Kevin's friends who went to
work in the woods straight out of high school. Still, this guy was so, well, gentlemanly.
So...old fashioned.

So close, too. Waneeta became aware of
how close he was standing. His clean male scent filled her nostrils, and she
let her eyes wander up his wide chest to his face. He was no longer smiling at
her. He stared into her eyes, and, well, right into her soul. Her heartbeat
ripped upward as her breath stalled within her. This guy didn't realize it, but
the sex appeal pouring from him was torrential. The fire had since quieted
down, and for the longest minute, there was nothing but the two of them, and her
sharp intake of breath.