Christmas Collision Read online

  "Help,” was all she managed, softly, before feeling herself begin to collapse. He yanked the computer bag from her shoulder and pulled her into the room as the door slammed behind her. A blast of wind whooshed through the cabin, extinguishing the flame of a single white pillar candle on the coffee table.

  "Are you nuts, woman?” He tossed her tapestry purse on top of the laptop case. Next, he removed her beloved emerald cloak and dumped it on the floor. Then came the snug leather gloves, pulled off quickly and landing inside-out on top of the cloak. He sat her onto the couch and knelt down, unzipping her ankle boots and throwing them in the general vicinity of her other belongings.

  "Hey! Those are—"

  "Completely useless in snow? Right. What are you dressed for? A business meeting in a climate-controlled office? It's twelve degrees! What are you doing way out here?"

  His questions came fast and furious, and his hands moved over her just as quickly. Before she realized what was going on, Rebecca was on the couch completely nude. A moment later, she found herself wrapped in a down-filled comforter.

  "Hey!” she said again, wishing words would appear in her mind to deride him for his cavalier attitude and rough treatment. Not to mention the fact that he had undressed her without even a proper introduction.

  "Yeah, yeah, just a minute.” He grabbed the white pillar candle off the coffee table and stalked away, returning in a moment with a thick chocolate-brown towel which he wrapped rather awkwardly around her wet hair. Then he was out of her sight again. Rebecca sank into the somewhat lumpy couch cushions, willing herself to stop shaking. A few minutes later the man reappeared with a heavy pottery mug in his hand. Steam rose from it enticingly.

  "Tea?” Would Earl Grey be too much to ask for?

  "Coffee. Strong and black.” He thrust the cup at her without apology. From his dialect, she surmised she had at least managed to get to Eastern Tennessee somewhere.

  "Okay.” Strong and black was the only way she drank coffee, something she probably did more frequently than her doctor would like. A snowstorm seemed to call for tea, or hot cocoa, but Rebecca put that down to her romantic spirit.

  Which she had thought was long dead.

  Reaching for the big mug, she dislodged the arrangement of the comforter around her shoulders. She shifted it and got one hand out, holding the comforter together with her other hand. Relief washed over her as she gripped the warm mug. She was safe, almost dry, and nearly warm, too. No more worries about dying in that snowdrift with the tiny car as her casket. She closed her eyes as the first blessed sip of coffee slid down her throat.

  "Mmm, this is surely the best coffee I've ever had."

  "So in other words you are starved, dehydrated, and have completely lost your mind while out wandering in the snow."

  Rebecca glanced up sharply at him then. She wanted to say something cutting, because he was being unkind. But her intrusion could have been met with a much worse welcome. Instead of speaking again, she continued to sip the coffee and look at the man. This seemed to bother him, and he paced a moment before throwing himself into an overstuffed chair across the rough wood coffee table from her. He didn't break eye contact for long though, except to notice when the comforter shifted as she sat up a little straighter, exposing one slender white shoulder to the cold air, and his glance, for a moment.

  "Okay, you're warming up now. Want to tell me what you're doing way out here in this weather, on Christmas Eve?"

  "Hm. I guess I owe you that much. My name is Rebecca. I was driving to a friend's house to spend the holiday, and I lost my way. Then I slid off the road. My rental car is a little distance from here. I got stuck in a snow bank, and I saw your lights."

  Rebecca realized she could be in considerable danger here, having absolutely no way to defend herself if the man wanted to hurt her. But she was confident he wouldn't do that. Something in his blue eyes made her trust him. She saw honor there, and compassion, though she hadn't noticed the latter in his voice.

  He was a big man, standing easily over six feet tall, and broad-shouldered, with thick dark hair sprinkled with white, a handsome face, an interesting mouth, and a very nice physique well displayed by his worn jeans and gray thermal shirt. She wondered briefly at the waste of his being here alone, then realized there could be someone else in the little cabin who just hadn't shown himself. Or herself.

  "And you are?” she prompted.

  "Your savior.” He extracted himself from the big chair and stalked away again. Why? She hadn't asked anything of him but his name. That seemed only fair. What else was there to discuss at this point?

  The man didn't return. She listened intently but heard no sounds, and finally put her empty mug on the table. Being careful of the arrangement of the comforter, she slipped down into the cushions.

  Rebecca lay there for a long while, enjoying the crackling fire that had warmed her body, the smell of whose smoke had helped save her life. She thought she could see people dancing in the flames, very energetically. The way they danced together mesmerized her. The more she watched, the more she saw two distinct figures dancing together. Maybe it was a Latin dance of some sort. It was so sultry—more like lovemaking than dancing. Two fluid bodies, one much larger, towering over the small one at times, reaching for the small one, and the small one reaching toward the other and then dancing away a moment later, teasing, until the larger one overtook it and the two danced so closely together for a while that they became one big flame. Crackling, sending out sparks, putting off waves of heat.

  Rebecca knew it was just her mind playing tricks, that she was tired and needed sleep. But she couldn't take her eyes off the dancing flames, and she couldn't help noticing that she was getting warmer by the moment. She felt her breathing become heavier, as she saw herself as the small flame, and the man in the cabin with her as the large one.

  How would it feel to dance so close to that big handsome man? How would it feel if he reached out for her, and she to him? And if she pulled away, would he overtake her, pull her into him until they became one? Until their dance brought them together in that most intimate of dances?

  He put his hand on her bare shoulder and she screamed.

  "What?” he yelled, jumping back a good foot. “I just touched your shoulder. Holy—You looked like you were in a trance or something. I thought..."

  Horrified that he had found her getting hot and bothered by his fire, Rebecca reacted in her usual way—she lashed out.

  "You don't ever sneak up and touch me and not expect a reaction. Don't try it again, mister. I know karate. I might as well tell you that now. I'm from the big city, where women know how to take care of themselves. So just back off.” She narrowed her gaze to let him know she was serious.

  He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth. Rebecca suspected he was hiding a smile, but he turned his back on her before she got a good look at his eyes to verify that. A minute or two passed, then he faced her again.

  "You're okay here? I went to bed, and then thought I should be sure this is all right for you."

  "I'm fine. Great. The couch has a couple of lumps, but it's better than the seat of that little car I've spent eternity in today. Thanks.” She added it as an after thought.

  "Well. You're welcome. I'll add a couple sticks to the fire, then it should carry through for a while. But it's a cold night out there."

  Rebecca knew that, and acknowledged the truth of it by sliding back down, pulling the comforter more securely around her, and tightly closing her eyes to avoid seeing the man. Or the man in the flames. She heard him adding logs to the fire, and felt rather than saw him stand back up, walk the few steps toward her. She kept her eyes closed as he softly bid her good night and walked out of the room again.

  * * * *

  David paced the small bedroom. This year's Christmas Eve vigil was ruined, that much was sure. He always yearned for the Christmas break from work, but this year he'd been obsessed with his need to get to the cabin. He was better this year
. His wounds were healing. So he didn't understand his near-desperation to get to the mountain for Christmas Eve. Why was it even more important this year?

  Holly.

  Her name whispered through his mind. She was his reason for being here at all, of course. If she'd come with him for Christmas, she'd have made sure their suitcases had been packed early. She would have included his favorite shirts, neatly ironed, and for the Christmas dinner with the rest of the McClain clan at his mom and dad's house, the silly reindeer necktie she'd bought him at a consignment shop in downtown Knoxville. The tie played “Jingle Bells” when you squeezed the little music box hidden in the hem of the tie.

  It also played “Jingle Bells” if Holly gave him a really great hug, which she so often did.

  Had. Past tense. Not anymore. And not for a very, very long time.

  Back in Knoxville he had a nice big house in a suburb with a big lawn and a big garage, and a big swimming pool in the back. He'd bought it all for Holly. Without her it was just a place to eat and sleep ... and work.

  But this cabin. It was special, even though he came here alone. Holly had told him it would be, hadn't she?

  He lay down on the cold sheets, pulled the covers up around him, and hoped for sleep. Surely he would dream of Holly.

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  Chapter Three

  Rebecca slept, but awakened each time the man entered the room and stoked the fire. She thought he did so three or four times in the night, and she could tell he tried to be quiet. Sometime during the night she decided they were the only two people in the cabin. She didn't hear anyone else, and certainly didn't see anyone else. She tried not to be glad, tried to rein in that stupid romantic nature that had so recently sprung up from somewhere and needed to go back again. She tried very hard not to watch the flames, not to imagine other flames.

  You can't trust anyone.

  She awoke again, and in the thin rays of dawn watched him put wood into the fireplace. She noticed his large hands, and how talented they were in setting each log in exactly the right place so that it quickly caught a licking flame and became a source of heat.

  "You do that very well.” She said it softly because neither of them had spoken in such a long time.

  "Boy Scout.” His answer was succinct, but not quite harsh.

  That figured. He looked like a grown-up Boy Scout. The perfect example of manhood, from what she could see. Of course his generally sullen manner didn't make one feel like being led across a busy street by him. But then Rebecca realized she had let him undress her with very little objection. She hadn't been herself at the time, of course. Too weak to protest.

  "Breakfast?"

  Well, there was word number three for the morning. At least she wouldn't be bored to death by constant chatter.

  Above the howl of the wind they heard a loud crack, a long creak, then a snap and a crash that shook the cabin. The floor lamp went dark, leaving the room lit only by pale morning light reflected off the snow outside.

  Jumping up from the couch, doing her best to hold the comforter around her, Rebecca panicked for a moment. Then she found herself held tightly in the man's strong embrace.

  "Hey. Calm down. Sounds like a tree fell. Probably the weight of too much snow on its branches. But you're okay, right?” He loosened his hold, looked down into her eyes and shook her gently till she looked up at him. “You're okay."

  Even in the dim light, his blue eyes were sincere and reassuring. “Yes. I'm fine. It was just loud. I was startled.” It galled her to seem weak, even for a moment.

  He nodded. Releasing her, he turned and walked toward the back of the cabin. “Let me see what happened. Be right back.” He went out a door at the far side of the tiny kitchen, and returned almost immediately.

  "Damn. Garage is smashed. Did a number on my Jeep, too.” He flipped the kitchen light switch. “Figures. Took out the electric line.” He flipped the switch back to the off position, and walked the couple of steps to the stove. “So. Back to the topic. Breakfast?"

  Well, Boy Scouts are always prepared. Not easily flustered either, it would seem. “Breakfast would be divine. Can I help in the kitchen?"

  "Not the way you're dressed. Or rather, not dressed.” He shrugged. “Guess I'd better find something for you to wear."

  "I have a suitcase in the car."

  "Great. And the car is located where?"

  "Well, out there someplace.” She gestured, catching the comforter as it slid again. “I can get to it, I think.” She shivered at the thought of putting on her wet clothes and trudging back through the snow.

  "Yeah. Maybe later. For now I'll see what I can find.” He started to leave the room, then turned back to her. “So, the case you brought in doesn't have clothes in it, just your laptop, I'm guessing. Awesome."

  She glared at him, and he left the room.

  Fifteen minutes later Rebecca was dressed. Sort of. A white sleeveless cotton t-shirt was covered by a huge red-and-black plaid flannel shirt whose sleeves were rolled back several times to allow her hands some freedom. The tails hung well past her knees. A pair of the man's sweat pants were cinched around her small waist with the belt from a green plaid flannel bathrobe. The pants were comically long on her, but had elastic at the ankle. The extra fabric flopped against the hardwood floor as she walked. She didn't know where her bra or the rest of her clothes had gone, and didn't feel like bringing up the topic.

  "So. I guess it's Christmas Day. Merry Christmas, um ... What did you say your name is?"

  "Right. Merry Christmas. And I didn't say.” He scowled at her.

  Nice.

  "You know my name."

  "So? Oh, okay, what's the difference? I'm David."

  Rebecca stuck out her hand. “Glad to meet you, David. Merry Christmas, and thank you for saving my life."

  "Huh. You're right. I probably did.” He frowned again, and turned his back. Rebecca thought she heard him mutter something like “wrong woman."

  A short while later they were sitting at the simple square pine kitchen table by a small window, feasting on fried eggs, oven toast, and orange juice.

  "It's snowing again this morning, but maybe not as hard as last night.” Rebecca squinted through the ice-trimmed glass pane. “I think I see trees."

  It unnerved her a bit when she turned back toward him and caught him studying her profile. She consciously stopped her nervous habit of twisting the back of her large diamond stud earring.

  "Trees, yeah, lots of ‘em. Maybe some deer, too. Or ... a bear."

  "A bear? Seriously?"

  "Oh yeah. Don't tell me you've never heard of the black bears of the Smoky Mountains. Where do you think you are?"

  Hell, maybe. Really cold, white, snowy Hell, and I'm having breakfast with the big bad guy himself. Bears?

  She shook her head to clear it. “Oh. Well. And when do you think the snow might stop? And the electricity might be fixed?"

  "No telling. I could listen to the weather radio about the forecast, I guess. The power won't be back on for a while. I've got a couple old kerosene lanterns, and the fridge and stove run on propane gas. There's plenty of wood in the garage, fortunately in the part that isn't totally caved in, so we're okay for now."

  He held up his hand when she was about to speak. “To answer your next question, the roads won't be cleared soon. Could be days.” He sipped his coffee, then got up to refill it from the pot still heating on the stove.

  "Days?” Rebecca thought she actually felt her heart stop for a second.

  "Yeah, they won't start plowing till the snow's done, and besides, this road's not a priority. Nobody lives out this far."

  "Except you.” Rebecca took a bite of egg that suddenly seemed cold and rubbery.

  "No, not really."

  He might listen to a weather radio, but didn't seem inclined to do so. And he didn't live here ... not really. She didn't have the ax murderer feeling about good old David, but he was definitely odd.

  "Y
ou don't live out here.” It was a statement. She dared him to refute it.

  "Nope.” He finished his toast, pushed his plate away, and leaned back again for another swig of the strong coffee.

  "Okay! Great! Thanks for sharing.” She picked up her plate and hopped up from her chair. “Where's the garbage?"

  "You're not done."

  "Lost my appetite. Garbage?"

  "Clean your plate, woman. There's just a couple bites. You don't want to waste food in a blizzard."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Do you see a Piggly Wiggly in the back yard? What food is here is all we've got for the duration, missy. I bought enough for myself for a few days, and now it has to last both of us till the weather breaks and the roads are passable."

  "Oh.” Chastised, and feeling stupid beyond measure, Rebecca forked up the last of her food in a huge bite and chewed without tasting. She was stuck in a little cabin heated only by wood, and lighted only by a couple of kerosene lanterns and whatever came through the windows. Romantic with the right person. Deliciously romantic. But she was imprisoned with Mr. Survival Kit instead of, say, someone with a personality. Just her luck.

  She laid her fork onto the empty plate with a slight clatter. “I'm guessing a Piggly Wiggly is a grocery store?"

  "You got it in one."

  "Wonderful."

  David pushed back his chair, took his plate and mug to the sink and stacked hers with them. He turned off the gas under the coffee. “Gotta conserve."

  Which made her shiver.

  Then he stalked into the tiny living room and took a little radio off a shelf. With a turn of his wrist, he pulled out a handle and cranked the thing, then flicked a switch.

  A crackling computer-generated voice began to recite weather statistics and warnings for the eastern half of Tennessee. Since it was electronic, the monotone voice emphasized the wrong syllable part of the time, as well as using technical terms Rebecca didn't often hear. Then another equally indecipherable computer took over in a female type voice.