HER IDEAL MAN Read online

  It wasn't that. Anna clutched the covers close and put the pillow in her lap hurriedly, then put her arms around his neck just as a blast of wind sent fistfuls of snow through the window. She gasped and turned her face away, bumping into Tyler's shoulder.

  He lifted her as easily as if she were a child. Anna closed her eyes, aware of every millimeter of his body that touched hers: a biceps against her back, his hand firm around her shoulder, his belly against the side of her hip. And against her forehead, she felt an electric tingle at the press of her skin against his neck; a neck that smelled of Ivory soap and pine and wood smoke. Against her fingers was his long, pale hair, brushing her sensually with his movements. She could barely breathe, so awash was she in the dizzy, narcotic pleasure of touching him.

  Touching Tyler.

  It took only a moment to carry her to the door, and then he bent to set her down, but not before Anna felt the unmistakable thrust of aroused male against her hip. With a jolt of surprise and desire, she looked up, reluctant to let him go, and in the low light, she saw the moment he realized she had felt him. The clear gray eyes flickered, and she saw him look at her mouth, and for the most fleeting seconds, his hands spread open on her, as if he would allow himself to explore.

  Then he swallowed and let her go. "Sorry about that. Haven't had a woman around in a long time."

  She smiled, tightening her cocoon of blankets. "They never do behave themselves, do they?" she said lightly, and hobbled toward the couch before she could give herself away.

  His laughter, surprised and warm in the darkness, told her she'd said the right thing. "No kidding." A pause. Anna didn't look at him, just put her pillow on the couch. In a moment, he said, "Let me put the fire out in there, and I'll be back to get you settled."

  Anna, wide-awake now, pulled the big quilt around her and sat down by the fire. She wondered what time it was. The storm was howling and moaning and screaming outside; she couldn't even imagine what it would look like come morning.

  Tyler came back, stomping his feet and trying to brush his windblown hair back into place. "Whew. That's a mess in there. Curtis is going to be at Grandma's house a little longer than we planned, I think."

  "That was a pretty big branch. Is the wind that bad?"

  "The worst I've seen in about ten years." Casually he tugged at the leather thong holding his hair back. The long, pale hair spilled free over his shoulders as he wandered toward the kitchen in his big work boots. "You want some hot chocolate or something? That woke me up."

  Anna smiled at the picture he made. "Sure."

  He caught her grin. "What's so funny?"

  She couldn't help it. A throaty chuckle escaped her. "Your very elegant attire."

  As if he hadn't given it a thought, he looked down at his robe and his bare legs, stuck into the unlaced work boots. His hair slid forward like a length of moon-colored silk, and Anna wanted very much to touch it.

  Touch him. Touch that slice of golden chest, and the exposed shins, with their dusting of gold-sparked hair. The longing made her ache for all she would never have. This was the man she'd been searching for all her life. Silly as it was, she'd known that the instant she first saw him.

  Now he looked up with a wry little smile. "I'm not used to having visitors." He inclined his head. "You should see yourself, anyway. Not exactly ready for the castle ball, are you?"

  Anna laughed. "Touché." She got to her feet and hobbled over to the long counter that divided the kitchen from the rest of the living space. "Can I help?"

  "Light some candles." He tossed her some matches. Self-consciously he combed his fingers through his hair. "Better?"

  "Beautiful," she said with a smile, and let the blanket pool around her waist so that she could finger-comb her own hair. "How's mine?"

  His smile was genuine, and so natural Anna found herself amazed that such a change could be wrought in the man in a few short hours. This Tyler was far more approachable, far more real and comfortable, than the prickly loner who had glared at her from his porch this afternoon. He reached over the counter and, with one broad palm, smoothed a patch of hair over her ear. "Now it's okay."

  "Thanks."

  Watching him draw water from the pump and set the kettle on the stove to boil, she asked, "Don't you ever get tired of not having all the modern conveniences?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "If I tell you the truth, you have to swear you won't tell a soul."

  "I swear. Cross my heart—" she made an X over her heart "—and hope to die."

  Tyler dropped to his elbows. The counter was wide enough that it wasn't really an intimate position, but it was much more open than his former body language. "I would kill for a microwave," he said, sotto voce.

  "Gasp!" Anna said.

  "Not only that, I'm dying for a television and a VCR." One side of that wide, sensual mouth turned up in an ironic expression. "Pitiful, huh?"

  "If this got out, it could ruin your reputation forever."

  "Tell me about it." He straightened to take some cups down. "I have a lot invested in being the mountain-man loner type. Years."

  Anna inclined her head. "It fits, you know."

  He measured powdered cocoa into the cups. "I worry about Curtis. He needs more than he's getting up here."

  "Oh, no, Tyler, don't ever think that. He's such a wonderful, bright, imaginative child. He hasn't been all filled up with mass culture, so he thinks in very original, wonderful ways."

  "You think so?"

  "Oh, I know so." Earnestly, she leaned closer. "He tells magnificent stories—and he uses the old archetypes, like dragons and spirits and witches and quests, instead of Bugs Bunny and Ninja Turtles."

  "Hey, now," he said mockingly. "Nothing wrong with Bugs."

  "No, of course not. But most kids have to work hard later to understand the underlying myths of our literature, and our culture. Curtis hasn't been distracted, and he won't have to work so hard. It hasn't hurt him to live in an unusual way with you like this. He's a great kid."

  "Thanks. He thinks you hung the moon, you know."

  "He does?" Anna felt oddly touched.

  "He talks about you all the time. About the stories you tell him, and the presents you bring him—that PEZ dispenser was about the coolest thing he ever saw in his life. You must like kids a lot."

  Anna shrugged. "Lots of practice." She grinned. "Don't forget my family."

  He poured hot water over the chocolate and, to Anna's surprise, came around to sit on the stool next to her. "You want to play some cards, or chess, or something?"

  "Sure. What do you have?"

  "You ever play Pente?"

  "No. What is it?"

  "I'll show you." He fetched a long cardboard tube from the bookshelf and came back. "It's like go, the old Japanese game," he said, pulling out a soft mat printed with a grid, very pretty, and two bags of what turned out to be glass stones. "The idea is to get five stones in a row, kinda like tic-tac-toe."

  In the candlelight, the blue and red glass pieces glowed like precious gems, and Anna was entranced. "It's pretty."

  "Don't let it fool you. It's harder than it looks."

  Companionably, they played several games. Anna, a fan of both backgammon and chess, was able to pick up the need for strategy very quickly, and managed to nearly beat him twice. The last game, she actually pulled it off, and chortled happily. "I won!"

  "Good game." He pulled his stones to his side of the board. "You want to play again?"

  "No, thank you. I think I'll quit while I'm ahead." She touched her stomach. "Actually, I'm getting hungry. It is almost morning?"

  He glanced toward the window. "Probably. I have a watch, if you want to know the real time."

  "No. It's not like we have an appointment or anything."

  "Exactly." He started gathering the stones and dropping them into their little suede bags. "I'm hungry, too, now that you mention it. I have some eggs and bread."

  "Cheese?"

  "Mmm. I think so."


  Anna stood up, grasping the blanket around her waist. "I'll put on my sweats and make some omelets, then. What do you say?"

  "Sounds good. Where are your sweats?"

  "In the other room."

  He swung himself around on the stool, and Anna tried not to notice the length of bare, hair-dusted thigh his gaping robe exposed. "I'll get them. I need to get dressed, anyway."

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  Anna would not allow Tyler to help her cook. He finally contented himself with sitting on a stool and giving her verbal guidance into the slightly tricky world of cooking on a woodstove. Outside, the wind died down as the sun rose. More or less. The light only revealed that snow was still falling, and showed no signs of letting up.

  It made him feel restless. No way could he stay trapped inside with Anna for hours and hours without sooner or later succumbing to his wish to have her. Another man, in the same circumstances, might have settled for a long, lazy seduction to pass the day. Even Tyler was tempted—who would it hurt? And more than that, who would believe they hadn't indulged in a nice, entertaining round of sex while trapped together? But aside from his own resolve to remain celibate, there was a funny kind of innocence about Anna that he'd rather leave undisturbed. She was a sweet, honest young woman, and she'd probably been very fiercely protected by all those older brothers.

  No, in order for the pair of them to indulge in sex simply for the sake of entertainment, they would both have to be different people.

  Those sensible thoughts did not necessarily ease his attraction to her, that ridiculous thrust of his body when she moved around his small kitchen. She'd washed and dressed, pulling the black curls into a loose, high ponytail. Her black sweater was cut like a dance leotard, to a V in both front and back, and as she grated cheese, Tyler found himself eyeing that back V covertly, the smooth, almost pearlescent skin, the tiny rise of the bones in her spine. Once he wondered aimlessly what she would do if he simply kissed her there, in a nice, sliding line up those bones to the delicate nape, where tiny whirls of hair curled against her neck.

  He also figured she didn't know that he knew her bra was ruined, littered with broken glass and splinters and mud when the branch came through the window last night. When he went in to nail a board over the broken window, he'd seen it among the pine needles on the floor, torn in two. She'd been lucky that she'd hung her clothes on a peg behind the stove in Curtis's room, or they'd have suffered the same fate.

  Even if he had not seen the actual clothing, he would have known by the way she looked. The sweater was not tight, but the fabric was something furry and soft, and it clung to her, illuminating the sway of unfettered breasts in a way that made it hard for him to keep his mind clean.

  Restlessly, he shifted his focus to something less dangerous, and picked up a yo-yo from the counter. He had to think of something for them to do to while away the hours of the day. Preferably something physically exhausting, so that he could work off some of this tension—and then, maybe, given the short night last night, they'd be able to just sleep until morning. Maybe by morning the storm would have blown itself out.

  Maybe.

  The perfect solution popped into his head. "Have you ever used snowshoes?" he asked.

  "No. I've always wanted to. Is it hard?"

  "Not at all." He was warming to the idea. She'd be bundled up, those sweet curves hidden below her heavy parka, and the activity was strenuous enough they'd be worn out when they got back. "You'll love it."

  "I'm game."

  After breakfast, Tyler filled a backpack with a thermos of hot coffee, sandwiches, oranges and cookies. Anna's outerwear was in general very good. She had worn long underwear under her jeans, and the parka was a high quality hooded variety. He loaned her a pair of gloves, and scrounged up an extra scarf to tuck around her throat. "We'll work hard enough that the cold won't be a problem unless the wind kicks up again."

  "Better to be prepared, anyway." She grinned at him. "Every Girl Scout knows that."

  "You were a Girl Scout?"

  "My mother ran the troops. I had no choice."

  Tyler grinned. "Did you make s'mores in Central Park?"

  "No, silly. We went out of town for that, just like everyone else. Just because you live in a city doesn't mean you can't leave it." She tied her parka hood. "You know, New Yorkers have some very strange ideas about the West, but you guys have just as many about us."

  "Do we?" He tucked his jeans into his boots and tied them. "Like what?"

  "Like what you just said, for example. The city is only the city. You don't spend your whole life in concrete canyons. We went to the beach on the weekends, and out to Long Island to visit my aunt Viola. It's not like there are walls around the city, making sure you never leave. It's just a place."

  Tyler lifted his eyebrows in concession. "I guess I never thought about that before."

  "I'll tell you something else. Everybody always says New Yorkers are mean, but they aren't, really. Not once you scratch the surface. Out here, everybody acts like they're all friendly and warm, but they're really prickly underneath."

  At that, he had to laugh. "We're sick of all you guys coming out here, telling us what to do."

  A brief, wounded flash crossed her face. "I wouldn't do that."

  "I didn't mean it like that. You seem very sincere." Taking the snowshoes in one hand, he opened the door and gestured her in front of him. "Not everybody gets to learn to snowshoe, after all."

  Her wild gypsy smile flashed with genuine happiness. A twist caught Tyler's lungs. Hadn't anyone ever shown her how to hide anything she was thinking? It made her too vulnerable, the way everything showed on her face. "Thank you," she said.

  Outside, the snow was falling lightly, but there was no wind. As long as it was still, the air would not be too cold, and he hadn't exaggerated when he told her the exercise would keep them warm. He illustrated the basics, and they set off across the open meadow fronting the cabin. Charley leaped along beside them for a few feet, but even his long legs were no match for the depth of the snow. With a brief, sad whine, he cat-jumped back to the porch to wait for them to return.

  "Shouldn't he be in the house?" Anna asked.

  "He won't go in until I'm back. If he gets cold, he'll go behind the woodshed. It's warm and dry back there."

  He led the way up the mountain, without any real aim in mind at first. Because breath was needed for exercise, conversation was sporadic, and limited to comments on footprints in the snow and nature's wonders and the obvious effects of the windstorm the night before. Not only his tree had been broken. Dozens of branches littered every clearing.

  It wasn't until they'd been out for a couple of hours that Tyler thought to lead her to the summit of a particular hill. Even on a cloudy day, the view of the back valley was one she wouldn't forget. First, he paused at a stream, still running in trickles in spite of the weather, and offered her the thermos. "You holding up okay?"

  She drank gratefully; then nodded. "It's wonderful." Her ruddy cheeks showed the bloom of exertion, but it wasn't a dangerous color, just the clear, rose-red blush of health. It made her eyes look even blacker. "When I first got here, I could barely cross the street without resting, but I guess my lungs have adjusted now."

  "Good." He tucked the thermos back in the pack. "We can have a snack and rest at the summit, then go back."

  "How do you rest in the snow?"

  "On pine branches, Miss Winter Survival."

  She grinned, and just that swiftly, Tyler had an uneasy feeling. He was not acting like himself, not at all. He should have sulked through all this. Unpleasant as it was to admit, it would have been a lot more in character. But somehow the snow and the gypsy-colored Anna and the forced proximity had caused a shift in his thinking, in his attitude. Maybe it was her earnestness, or the magpie way she chattered so easily, but it wasn't hard to talk to her. He felt comfortable with her, and that had led to an unconscious lowering of his
guard.

  He had a feeling he would be sorry.

  * * *

  Anna thought the whole thing was glorious. The gray of the skies over the frosted Ponderosa pines and blue spruce, the utter stillness of nature, the evidence of creatures that had been about this morning. She loved the heat in her muscles and the crisp sight of her breath hanging in the air.

  Most of all, she loved being with Tyler. Especially this new, approachable version. She'd always known this side of him existed; she had glimpsed it when he teased one of his brothers, and when he herded Curtis and his cousin Cody from one place to another downtown.

  But he'd never dropped his armor in her presence before this, and she found that it was very easy to like him. He had an ironic turn to his quick mind, a quick glitter in the pale eyes, and more—a rare, wry self-honesty that was surprising. If he would allow it, they might be friends after all this. He struck her as a man who could use a friend.

  Falling into the rhythm of the snowshoes, Anna wondered what he had been like as a boy, as a four-year-old, like Curtis. Louise, naturally, had spoken often of all three of her boys, spinning tales of their childhood as she and Anna performed the dozens of physical tasks required by the old house museum—window work and dusting and the arrangement of exhibits. Anna, always ready to hear a good story, had listened happily.

  Lance had been the wild one, even as a little boy. Full of mischief and trouble. Jake, the oldest, had been competitive and driven toward success, and had nearly destroyed himself.

  Louise loved all her boys equally. Anna could see that. She worried over them, and fussed, and meddled, and bragged shamelessly about each of them in turn.

  But Tyler, this tall, strong, silent man at Anna's side, was the child of Louise's heart. By the time he came into her life, she had been savvier about protecting her children from the hard ways of their father, and Tyler always had been different—quiet and introspective, but also fiercely intelligent and sensitive. Louise had shielded him in order to allow him to be whoever he became—and she was very proud of the man he had grown to be.