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As he’d thought, the boy was lonely. “I’m sorry, Dudley, but my brother is older than I am.”
“What does he do? Is he also a writer?” she asked.
“No. Jason’s a lawyer and a good one. Here we are,” he said as he passed the Lake George sign. “If you don’t find a stove here, we can drive up to Rutland tomorrow morning. It’s a bigger town.”
“Don’t spend so much of your time helping me out when you should be working,” she said with a note of concern in her voice.
He was still driving when she made the statement, so he had to settle for a reassuring glance at her. “Every minute I spend in your company is time well spent.” When he reached the shopping mall, she still hadn’t responded to his efforts to draw her out. He parked and turned to her. “I do not play games with women, children or animals, Allison. Life’s too short for that kind of nonsense.”
She looked him in the eye and said, “I’m glad to know it. It’s comforting to know that you’re a man of your word.”
“I see you know how to play hardball. Good. It’s my style as well.”
“All right, Brock. Let’s stop it before it gets out of hand.”
He wished she hadn’t backed down, but perhaps she was right. If they continued, they would definitely get into a fight, and even though he wanted to get a rise out of her, he didn’t want to annoy her.
“Sorry. I’ll take my cue from you.” He’d put his hand on the door, but now he withdrew it, turned and looked at her. “I mean that in every way. Stay there.” He got out, walked around to the passenger door and opened it. Jack looked at him for instruction and he let him out. “Sit, Jack.” He reached across Allison, unbuckled her seat belt—surprising her when he did it—and held out his hand to her. His jaw almost dropped when she took his hand without a word and got out of the car.
“Which store do you recommend?”
He told her, opened the back door, lifted Dudley from his car seat and walked along with her, holding Dudley’s hand and Jack’s leash.
“We’ll sit out here while you shop.”
“I…uh…I’d hoped you would go in with me.”
He was waiting to be asked. “Wait here.” He tied Jack to a canine hitching post, told the dog to sit and went back to Allison.
“I hope somebody at the general store will be able to hook up this stove,” she said as they headed back to Indian Lake. “If I touch it, I’ll probably blow up the house.”
He took that as a cue that she didn’t want to ask him to do it and he decided not to offer. He was getting fed up with their cat-and-mouse foolishness. But he wished she’d lighten up and accept that he would gladly do whatever he could to make her life easier.
He saw a fast-food restaurant off the highway and drove into its parking lot. “Will a scoop of ice cream ruin Dudley’s dinner?”
“Probably, but he seldom gets out…Why not? He’ll love it.”
He put the car in Park and turned toward the backseat. “Say, buddy, I’ll buy you some ice cream, but you have to promise your mother that you’ll eat all of your dinner.”
Dudley clapped his hands with glee. “I will, won’t I, Mommie? I’ll eat everything.”
“If your mother tells me that you broke your promise, I’ll be very disappointed in you.”
“Oh, no, you won’t,” Dudley said. “I’ll eat all of my dinner. Can I have chocolate?”
“You may, indeed.” He tried to imagine the expression on Allison’s face as she gazed at him. If he were egotistical, he’d swear that she admired him. He shook it off. “You want to stretch your legs?” They got out of the car and Dudley surprised him when he grabbed his hand and said, “Can you go with me to the bathroom before we get the ice cream?”
He glanced at Allison, realized that Dudley’s request had surprised her as well, and said, “Sure,” as casually as he could. The boy had already become attached to him, which could become difficult the longer he was around Dudley.
As they walked away from the car, he said to the child, “I’m glad to go with you, but why didn’t you ask your mother?”
“’Cause she has to take me to the ladies’ room and I don’t like going there. I want to go to the men’s room.”
“You’ll soon be old enough to go to the men’s room by yourself.” What else could he say? He remembered how much he’d hated it when his mother took him to the ladies’ room. They found Allison leaning against a bubble gum machine in the front of the restaurant.
“It’s different, Mommie,” Dudley said as they approached her. “You oughta go see it.”
“He wants chocolate ice cream,” Brock said, changing the subject to one certain to engage the child’s attention.
Allison wasn’t talkative by any means, but as they ate their ice cream, he noted her unusually quiet manner. Distant. He’d almost call it standoffish. “What’s the matter, Allison? I’m not trying to undermine your authority or to make a place in his life. But I love children, and when they turn to me, I’m not ever going to push them aside.”
“I don’t think that. It’s…This is moving so fast, as if it’s going to have a life of its own and as if I have no control over it. I had a life that I didn’t control, and I don’t want that again.”
He could see that something ate at her constantly and if she said otherwise, he wouldn’t believe her. He’d thought that she could be hiding out in Indian Lake. What other reason would she have for secreting herself and her son away from civilization?
“I don’t want to control you or anyone else, Allison. I assume you’re familiar with the words no, don’t, stop and leave. You can use any of those words with me and I’ll understand.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. You can control a person in many ways, including by being nice, all the while using subtle means to keep that person in line. Some people are skilled at it.” She stopped eating and leaned back in the chair. “Did you see Alfred Hitchcock’s Gaslight?”
He nodded. “I saw it. Did you experience something similar?”
“Not similar, but just as vicious.”
“Mr. Lightner, shouldn’t we go check on Jack? Suppose somebody steals him?” the worried little boy said.
“I pity the person who’s stupid enough to try that. Jack can definitely hold his own. All the same, we’d better go.” He reached over and stroked the back of Allison’s hand. “I’d like you and me to have an understanding. As far as I’m concerned, a casual friendship between us is unlikely. Are you ready to go?”
She nodded. “I hope someone at the store can install my stove this evening. Otherwise, what will Dudley and I eat?”
“Use the one you have tonight, and tomorrow we’ll get a guy who installs appliances. I’ll get a dolly from the hardware store and put the stove in the corner of your kitchen.”
Later that evening Brock defrosted a Swanson TV dinner for his supper. Alone, he thought about Allison’s reluctance to accept his friendship, even when he offered help that she sorely needed. It wasn’t as if she had the option of calling a handyman. There was no one for maybe miles around who could help her if the man in the hardware store didn’t come to work. He’d install the stove, but only if she asked him.
Early the next morning, the birds chirped and a soft cool breeze energized him. He sat on his back deck with Jack at his feet thinking of Dudley and of how easily he developed affection for the child. He didn’t need further proof that he would enjoy fatherhood. The raspberry bushes rustled in the breeze and he remembered a white wicker basket that he’d put in his pantry the previous summer. He went inside and got it. He was looking at what seemed like a bushel of raspberries and because Allison liked raspberries, he figured he’d pick some for her that were really fresh. In less than half an hour, he had filled the basket with large, plump, sweet berries. After forcing himself to wait until ten o’clock, he put the leash on Jack and patted the dog’s rump. “Come on, boy.”
A seemingly harassed and frazzled Allison answered his knock at the door. When she saw him, she put her finger to her lips for quiet.
“Hi,” she said. “Dudley’s in his room doing his math assignment and if he hears your voice, that will be the end of it. Come on in.”
“You didn’t call someone to install your stove,” he said, sensing the reason for her frustration. She shook her head. He handed her the basket piled high with raspberries. Her eyes sparkled.
“I picked these for you a few minutes ago and my fingers are all scratched up. Don’t I deserve a kiss?” She clutched the basket as if it held diamonds. He took it from her and put it on the table beside them.
“Look at my fingers,” he said, pretending to beg for sympathy. “Don’t I deserve a kiss?”
A smile crawled over her face. “You do, but I think it’s best that you and I avoid playful kissing.”
He sobered at once. “Let me tell you, Allison, when I kiss you, there will be nothing playful about it.” A gasp escaped her lips as she sucked in her breath. “That’s right, and it’s what I want to do to you right here and right now.”
She stared at him and moved her lips, but not a word escaped her mouth. “Come here to me, Allison.”
Her trembling lips parted. “Brock. Brock, I…”
Her arms seemed to rise of their own volition as he stood gazing down at her with desire ablaze in his eyes. She couldn’t stand it. She needed him and had from the first time she saw him.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he said, the soft words barely audible.
Her only thought was that he was tantalizing, all man, and she wanted him. Somehow, he had her in his arms, his fingers pressed into her flesh, and he continued to stare down at her. Why didn’t he do something?
“Open your mouth and let me in,” he said and plunged his tongue into her eager lips. She felt his hand at the back of her head as he possessed her and then his other hand fastened her hips to his aroused body. Heat spiraled through her. Tremors shook her and he tightened his grip on her buttocks. She wanted…She needed…Moans spilled from her throat as he let the wall take his weight and gripped her to him, possessing her as if he owned her, and in that minute she knew he did. Her hips moved against his, seeking, practically begging for friction, for anything that would soothe the burning inside her. He didn’t spare her when she pulled his tongue deeper into her mouth, but let his hand stroke her left breast until, besotted and weakened by desire, she slumped against him.
He looked at her for a long minute, kissed her forehead and her eyelids and said, “Don’t be upset, Allison. Some people live a lifetime without experiencing what just happened between you and me.”
“I know.”
He gazed steadily at her, almost as if he tried to read her thoughts. “If you need me for anything, even if you only want to say hello, you have my cell number. Be seeing you.” He patted Jack, picked up the dog’s leash and headed toward the road.
Allison watched him go, all the while wishing she had the courage to tell him to stay there with her. She carried the basket of fresh raspberries to the kitchen, placed them on the table and sat down. She had to get a hold on herself; falling for Brock Lightner could be dangerous. Who was he? He had the manners of a gentleman, the charm of a rascal and the bearing of a stud. And she had a feeling that when he wanted to, he could be honey sweet. He was trouble, all right.
In the darkest days of her marriage, she had fantasized about having a man like Brock in her life. But as she mulled over the past few days, she admitted that her daydreams fell far short of Brock the man. She’d never imagined what she had felt while he had her in his arms. Now that she had tasted him, felt his masculine strength and experienced his heat, she knew he’d give her what she had wanted and longed for all these years. But if she opened herself to him, would she risk her life and that of her child?
Her sister, Ellen, said that her willpower, for which Allison was famous, was about to be tested. Ellen didn’t know the half of it. When Brock Lightner held her in his arms, she’d had no willpower. She took a shower, not realizing that in doing so, she tried to wash away all that had happened to her that morning.
“He’s still in me,” she said to herself, as she sat down to work. But work held no interest, so she phoned the hardware store hoping to speak to the man who installed stoves.
“He doesn’t work here on a regular basis, miss,” the young male voice said. “He just comes when we tell him there’s an order. Did you call before?” She told him that she had and asked for the repairman’s telephone number. “I don’t have it,” he said. “We don’t have that many calls to install stoves. I’ll put a note on the board telling him to get in touch with you. You ought to hear from him sometime this week.”
She did not want to call Brock and ask him to install her stove. But what choice did she have? She had three months in which to test two hundred recipes, and every minute that passed was a loss of precious time. She remembered Brock’s offer to find a photographer for her, and used that as an excuse and called him.
“Lightner.”
“Brock, this is Allison.”
“Hi.”
He said nothing and the silence made her more annoyed. He could at least make it easy for her. “You said you knew a good photographer. Would you please give me his name and phone number?”
He immediately gave it to her. She realized that he’d memorized the number and reasoned that the man was probably a friend. The thought comforted her. She jotted down the number and weighed the idea of asking him to install the stove.
“Did you get someone to install your stove?”
“Not yet. They don’t know when he’ll be in town and no one knows his telephone number. It seems that installing a stove is a rarity here.”
“I don’t see the point in contacting the photographer until you know when you’ll have something for him to photograph. I was going to suggest that he come twice a week and shoot what you’ve prepared between visits. That would be cheaper than having him fly up here every time you bake a cake.”
“Are you trying to push my buttons?” she hissed.
“No. But I see I did just that. If you weren’t so damned stubborn, your stove would already be installed.”
“If I were near you, I’d poke you,” she said and kicked the garbage can.
“I imagine you would. Any kind of contact would be better than none. Right?”
“Listen, you! Oh, all right. Would you mind installing my gas stove? And you’d better live up to your promises, too.” She didn’t know why she was so angry, but she was, and he’d done nothing to cause it.
“I’ll be up there around four o’clock. I have to finish this chapter. And don’t worry, I’m not in the habit of letting people down, and I certainly have never disappointed a woman. Bye.”
“What did you say?”
He’d hung up.
Chapter 3
Asmart man would leave that woman alone, Brock cautioned himself, puzzled as he was by her behavior. But he pushed the notion aside, thinking that he’d deal with it later. He’d known a lot of women, but none had affected him as she did. He sensed that she was fragile, even wounded, and he had an unusual desire to protect her. That worried him, although not enough to make him stay away from her. He put on a CD and got down to work.
A few minutes before four o’clock, satisfied with what he had written, he picked up his toolbox, called Jack, got in his SUV and drove to Allison’s cabin. To his amazement, Jack jumped out of the car and headed for Allison’s front door wagging his tail. When Allison opened the door, the dog dashed past her to Dudley, greeting the child as if they had been separated for years.
“Hi,” he said to Allison. “My dog seems to be taken with Dudley.”
“Dudley has a way about him,” Allison replied. “He can really get next to you. Come in.”
“Yeah. I suspect it’s in his genes.”
She didn’t comment, but her embarrassment was apparent. As he walked into the house, he left plenty of space between them. After removing the old stove and moving it out to the deck, he brought the other one into the kitchen.
“That thing is heavy,” she said. “Why don’t you rest for a few minutes? I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
He wasn’t tired and didn’t want coffee, but she wanted to do something for him, so he accepted. “Thank you, Allison. Why don’t you keep Dudley and Jack company while I do this? The last thing I need right now is a distraction.” He shot a quick glance at her.
“Do you always say everything that comes to your mind?”
He couldn’t help grinning. “Absolutely not! If I did, you’d send me out of here faster than a Thoroughbred running down the stretch. Nah. I wouldn’t do that.”
She didn’t move and lowered her voice so that it was barely audible. “Why are you trying me, Brock?”
He peeled the label off the stove and set the appliance down within an inch of her foot. “I’m accustomed to working alone, Allison,” he said, ignoring her attitude. “This won’t take too long. We can talk after I finish.”
She folded her arms at her waist, gazed at him for a minute and walked out of the kitchen. If he seemed an enigma to her, he was not in a mood to explain himself. Hearing her footsteps as she walked around the house, he dropped the wrench on the floor, got up and went to the door leading from the kitchen to the living/dining room just as she threw up her hands in the manner of one either exasperated or defeated. He took three steps toward her and stopped himself.
My purpose here is to install the stove and that’s all I’m doing, he told himself. Damned if I’m going to skip to her tune. No way!
He finished the installation, turned on the oven to test it and strolled into the living room, where he found Allison staring at the dark screen of the TV set.
“Anything wrong with your TV?” he asked her.
“Not that I know of. I haven’t turned it on.”
For the moment he didn’t think a comment was warranted. “Do you have a couple of pieces of bread?” he asked her.
