Jake drank his coffee in silence.
“Your sister the doctor says that you should take the antibiotic,” Amanda continued, “just like your doctor the doctor said. Your brother the anthropologist and your other sister the student took bets that you’d die of lockjaw first.”
Jake glared at her, even more angry because he wanted to laugh with her. He wanted to smile and joke and tease, just like Clovis and José were doing. But that would be letting down his guard, and except for last night, Jake had never let down his guard before. So he sipped his coffee and did his best to let the conversation flow over him.
“Another fine meal, Miss Marlow,” Willy crowed, tipping his chair back. “I don’t half mind gettin’ snowed in with you as the cook.”
“Somebody like you,” José added with a nod, “I expect fancy things. Not good food.”
Amanda grinned at them both. “I’m saving the escargot for Sunday dinner,” she assured them.
She didn’t belong here, Jake thought again. Not really. She’d get tired of the empty miles and the harsh weather quickly enough; no television, no conveniences, no nightlife. As soon as the novelty of playing homesteader in a storm wore off, she’d be back on a plane so fast her ears would pop.
He tried, really tried, to picture the room without her. To picture the ranch without her. To picture his bed without her.
He couldn’t do it.
Amanda looked up when he stood. “Heading in for bed?”
“I’m going on down to the barn to check on Filbert. He has an abscess we’re treating.”
Clovis scrambled to his feet. “I can do that, boss.”
Jake glared at him. “I’m not so sure you’d tell me if he had problems,” he snapped and turned away, feeling even worse. It wasn’t Clovis he was angry at. It wasn’t anybody. But he was angry.
Amanda had never in her life been a calculating female. She wasn’t sure she could get away with acting like one now. But, looking at her reflection in the mirror, she knew she had to try. Jake had been crusty as hell tonight, but that crust had been pretty damn thin. It wouldn’t take much to break through and let loose all that confusion seething beneath.
She didn’t go in for fancy underwear. A single woman trying to keep warm in a New England winter didn’t really have much use for satin and lace. As a teacher living alone she preferred athletic bras for jogging and undershirts for sleep. So that was what she’d managed to stuff in her bag before Jake had yanked her out of the cabin.
She tried her best to assess the look. It might work. Her panties were good old cotton, but they were very French cut. Her undershirt was sleeveless with a scoop neck that gave away just enough to send an imagination into gear and nicely cupped the rest.
Not that she had any misconceptions about the package she was trying to wrap. It was plain, just like her mama had said. Plain and a little skinny, so that the only attraction for single men had seemed to be her fame. But it was all she had. And Jake hadn’t seemed to mind it covered in flannel last night. Maybe if she added a long, loose flannel robe, it might just distract him enough to get a reaction. Amanda took a few more minutes brushing out her hair so that it looked just a little sleep-tousled, and then headed in to fall asleep in front of the fire.
Jake wasn’t sure what to expect when he walked back into the house. He could see from the barn that most of the lanterns were out. Smoke still curled from the chimney, so the fire was still going. Maybe Amanda was asleep. It would be better if she were. But he was honest enough to admit that he hoped she was waiting for him.
“Amanda?”
His only answer was the hissing from the lanterns and heaters, the crackle from the fireplace. The house was cool and dim. Battling the hollow ache of disappointment, Jake shook off his hat and coat and hung them up. He raked his hands through his hair and rubbed at the weariness on his face as he walked on through the kitchen.
There was still a pot of coffee on the stove. He stopped to pour himself a cup before heading into the living room. There was stuff Betty had left him to sign from two days ago he should probably do, and all the heaters needed to be checked for fuel. And he should stoke the fireplace for the night.
Jake came to a shuddering halt in front of the couch.
“Amanda?”
She was asleep, curled on the couch, her hair tumbled over the fabric like a fall of silk, the dark green robe she’d borrowed gaping to reveal the sleek line of her leg, the creamy skin of her throat. Jake couldn’t move. He couldn’t approach or leave.
She was beautiful, soft and mysterious and sweet, and he knew every curve and hollow of her body now. He ached for her so hard he thought he’d shatter.
“Amanda? Wakeup.”
She murmured something in her sleep and turned a bit. The robe gaped even more, revealing the undershirt and panties she was wearing. White, cotton, so simple and practical it should never have looked sexy. It sent his pulse rate rocketing. The material draped down her chest, baring her throat and shoulders, with only thin straps contrasting to her skin. It molded to her breasts, the breasts that Jake had held in his hands, had tasted and teased until her nipples were as taut as they were now from the cold. Even those plain white panties, cut high so that a man could sate himself on the sight of her legs, shouldn’t have been sinful. But they were. Jake heard a soft sloshing sound and realized that he’d clenched the mug so tightly that he was close to crushing it between his hands.
He reached over to close her robe and brushed her thigh with his hand by accident. Amanda smiled. Jake straightened as if he’d been electrocuted.
“Wake up,” he begged, reaching down to nudge her shoulder. Instead, he found himself fingering her hair, gently brushing it back from where it had tumbled into her face.
Her lashes were so long, so dark against those pale cheeks. Her mouth was so full, so ripe. It tasted like dark honey and left a man wild with hunger.
