The Driven Snowe (11 page)

Angela could sense the depth of love in his voice as he talked about his father, and it moved her. Hesitantly, she rested her head against his shoulder, hoping to communicate as much comfort as she could. He leaned back against the couch, cradling her with one arm, and stroked her back with one hand absently as he continued speaking.

“My dad was my coach in junior high, did I tell you that?” Angela shook her head no, and Josh kept talking. He obviously needed to talk, and his voice, his tone, was soothing. “He was the one who convinced me that I could do anything I wanted to, if I just planned it carefully enough, worked hard enough. I love my mom, but sometimes I really think my dad made me who I am.”
He paused for a minute, then asked, “What's your dad like?”

“I don't know,” Angela said. “He left Mom when I was a couple of months old.”

There was another pause, and then she felt him hug her, a comforting, wordless embrace. Finally, he said, “That must have been hard.”

She didn't want his pity, so she found herself explaining something she very rarely spoke of. “No, it wasn't that bad. I mean, my mom…you'd have to know my mom. If your dad taught you that you could have anything you wanted, if you just tried hard enough—my mom taught me that you can survive anything. And she has. She always said she never held anything against my father, because she got me out of the deal.” She smiled. “She also refused to take handouts from anyone. She taught me to be self-sufficient. I guess you could say my mom made me who I am.”

“Your mom sounds pretty strong,” Josh said, kissing her temple gently. “Where is she now?”

“She lives in Arizona. She says she likes the climate better. I think she still works too hard, but she seems much happier than she used to be.”

“Why was she unhappy?”

Angela paused for a minute, then slowly said, “She didn't have an easy time of it, being a single mom. She worked two jobs for almost as long as I can remember. She still has a weekend job. I've tried to help her as much as possible, but she'll only accept so much.” Somehow, just saying the words made the tension between her shoulders ease slightly. She barely registered the fact that she was sharing so much with someone, but somehow she couldn't seem to stop herself. “Anyway, she's going
to school at nights now, too. She always loved school…really valued education. She was so proud when I got my scholarship to Vassar.”

“You went to Vassar? On a scholarship?” She could hear the quick awareness in his voice. “That must be when you were in New York.”

She grinned. He sounded like Columbo or something, solving some mystery. “Yes. I got a job in New York City for a few years, too. Corporate librarian.”

“I didn't even know there were corporate librarians.”

“My mom didn't, either. She wasn't thrilled with me becoming a library science major—she thought I wouldn't be able to support myself, and she didn't want to see me struggle like she did. Still, I made a good deal of money when I worked in the city, even with the high rents they have there. I was living with a bunch of people, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been.” The problem was, they were mostly bankers or stockbrokers. They worked hard and partied harder. She'd barely seen them at all.

“So what made you move back here?”

Angela sighed, absently rubbing her cheek against his chest. His shirt felt soft and fuzzy—flannel, she registered. “It's a great city, don't get me wrong. I just couldn't be happy there. I was working really long hours, doing research for all these departments. I wasn't dating, because I'd been so busy in school and was just so wary of relationships that I just never seemed to get out there and do it. Besides, by the time I was twenty-two or so, being a virgin seemed to make me something of a freak. Or worse…a
challenge.
” She didn't mean that to come out as bitterly as it did, and quickly changed the subject.
“Besides, I missed nature. I hated being on the street in the perpetual shadows that skyscrapers seem to make. I missed Manzanita. Every so often, I'd look it up on the Internet, see what was going on in local papers. When I found out they were building a bigger public library for Manzanita and the outlying towns, I just felt like it was time. I sent my résumé, they hired me, I moved back.” She shook her head, remembering. “My mom thought I was crazy. She still does, I guess.”

“My parents thought I was crazy when I moved Solar Bars up here, too,” Josh said, and she felt that he truly understood. “There's just something about this place.”

“Yeah.” She nuzzled against him, then looked around the room. “So have I bored you yet?”

He nudged her, propping her up to look at him. She could see his eyes were intense. “Angela, nothing about you bores me.”

She leaned toward him, closing her eyes, and kissed him. She expected the usual conflagration of passion that snapped between them, but there was something different this time. There was heat, definitely, but something else. She melted into him, pressing against him gently, feeling the warmth of their two bodies. He stroked her gently, kissing her with a tenderness that made her feel dizzy and yet completely…

Safe.

That was the word she was looking for. He made her feel comforted, and secure.
That
was why she'd said so much.

She pulled away, unsure of what to do with that latest discovery. He nodded. “I brought two movies,” he said, his voice slightly uneven.

“Okay,” she said. Whenever he rented movies, it was
usually just a front—something they had running in the background while they made love. She started to unbutton her blouse, but to her surprise, he stopped her with a gentle hand.

“It's not that I don't want you. I always want you,” he said, in a low voice. “But I'm tired, and a little beat up today. And I'd love it if you could just sit here, in my arms, and maybe talk to me.”

She paused, a vague alarm bell going off in her head.
This isn't what we'd agreed to.
Still, she ignored it. It didn't break any of her rules. Besides, the alarm bell in her mind was nothing compared to the overwhelming tug on her heart.

A
BREAK WAS ONE THING
.
One month with no sex was something else.

It was bright and early on a Saturday morning, and Angela was cooking with an energy she wouldn't have believed she possessed. She chopped green onions, relishing the way the cleaver minced through the vegetables with an efficient hiss.

She was feeling edgy. It made no sense—she'd gone for years without sex before. Of course, she hadn't actually known what she had been missing, not really. Now, it seemed like she couldn't breathe without thinking of the last time she'd pressed her body against Josh's. And if that wasn't insane, she didn't know what was.

Maybe he's tired of you.

She stopped for a moment, then picked up the chopped onions on the broad, flat cleaver blade and popped it into the hot oil of the wok. It sizzled and spat. Some splattered on the back of her hand, and she sucked it, absently.

She'd been having thoughts like that since this whole period of renewed celibacy had gone into effect…since
she'd been too tired to do anything, that night he'd dropped by unannounced. Josh had said that he'd always want her, when he'd held her on the couch. Then, he'd been busy with work the next two weekends, and had to fly down to his parents' house this past weekend. She hadn't altered her class schedule, of course, but she doubted he would have been able to see her even if she had. So she was getting considerably anxious.

She stirred the onions, turning the heat down a fraction before they burned.

The thing was, if she really thought that he was tired of her, she would have shut tight like a clam—just written him off, and plowed even more thoroughly into her other pursuits. But he wouldn't just disappear. He made a point of calling her every night…and several of their phone calls had gotten her heated up to the point of driving over and seeing him, even if he was exhausted. Any man that could make her sweat just by whispering a few well-chosen words ought to be arrested…especially if he couldn't make good on his promises for three weeks.

She pushed red bell pepper and chopped broccoli into the wok, stirring briskly. Strangely, it wasn't that conversation that had pushed her off balance the most. She was getting to be pretty comfortable with that whole sex thing. It was the other calls that disconcerted her.

“Hi, beautiful,” Josh had said one evening, after she'd gotten back late. “How was Chinese cooking class?”

“I'd be ready to take on the Iron Chef,” she joked, rubbing at her sore shoulders, “if it weren't for all the chopping. How was your day?”

“Distribution problems in the southeast, big marketing snafu, and the joy of trade conventions for the
next two weekends,” he said with a sigh. “I'm so tired I almost slept in the office.”

“Poor baby,” she crooned, then sighed herself. “You didn't have to call, Josh.”

“I wanted to call,” he said, in a low voice. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. I like talking to you.”

She liked talking to him, too…and seeing him for the brief ten-minute snatches he could steal from his workday. He'd taken to dropping by in the late morning or early afternoon, sneaking her out of work, hustling her behind a large weeping willow in a nearby park, and kissing her senseless—then taking her back to work. He'd whisper to her, stroke her cheek in that way she loved, and smile at her with a gentleness that always disarmed her…until she got back to her desk and realized how totally turned on she was with no satisfactory outlet. The last time she'd returned to the library like that, Ginny had taken one look at her and grinned.

“I brought a peanut butter sandwich,” she quipped. “What did
you
have for lunch?”

He still wants me, doesn't he?

She tossed the vegetables, then poured them into a dish and quickly stir-fried some chicken strips. Of course he still wants me, she thought anxiously.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to have sex with him today, just to be sure.

It had been an idea that had been getting more and more prevalent in her mind as she grew more edgy. In the past three weeks, she'd read every book on seduction and sexual escapades she could get her hands on, from
The Art of Sexual Ecstasy
to the
Kama Sutra.
She was a woman with purpose.

That was what this whole arrangement was for, after
all. She leaned back, sighing as she rubbed her forehead. Wasn't it?

The doorbell rang, and she jumped, startled.

She checked the peephole, then pulled the door open. “Josh?” He looked wonderful. She could see the way his chest muscles flexed in his T-shirt, and the way he wore his jeans…yum. “I wasn't expecting you until later.” When she could at least get some decent clothes on and get into seduction mode!

“I wanted to surprise you.” He sniffed as he walked through the door. “I wasn't really expecting you to be up yet, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised…what is that? That great thing I'm smelling?”

She glanced at the kitchen, embarrassed by her comfy oversized pajamas, her glasses and her frenetic cooking. “That is, um, chicken stir-fry…and some egg rolls. And a little beef and broccoli.” Her timer dinged. “Oh. And some jasmine rice, too.”

He glanced at her, then at his watch. “It's seven-thirty in the morning.”

“Until they cancelled yoga class, I was getting up at five-thirty.” She glared at him. “Besides, I had a little trouble sleeping.”

“Fair enough.” He grinned, and she felt certain he realized how much he'd contributed to her lack of rest. “Well, if you're done here, you might want to get changed.”

She nodded. “Just give me a minute to shower.”

She bolted to her bathroom. This was just the opportunity she was looking for. She didn't even want to ask him where he was taking her, because she knew they weren't going to get there. She was going to seduce
the socks right off him. And the shirt and pants, she mentally added with a giggle.

She got clean, and then quickly put her contacts in and smoothed some makeup on. Then she toweled her hair dry, letting it fall in long, slightly wavy locks down her back.

She decided not to bother with anything else.

She went out to the living room with a smile. He was glancing at a picture on her desk. “Ready?” he asked, without turning to look at her.

“Am I ever,” she whispered.

He turned around, and stopped, still as a statue. She could hear his breathing quicken. She smiled, opening her arms slightly in invitation, and waited.

It seemed to take a long, endless moment before he finally spoke. “I must say I approve of the outfit,” he said, and it sounded like he was choking on something, “but it'll be a little cold where we're going.”

She tried not to be disappointed, and walked closer to him, pressing her breasts against his chest. He backed away until he bumped into the desk, sitting on its surface. She leaned in, kissing him teasingly on the neck. “After all this, you still want to go outside?” she murmured, in her best husky voice.

He sighed, a long, drawn-out sound of suffering. “I know what you want, and believe me, I want it, too…”

“Then there's no more discussion,” she said, moving in to kiss him. He dodged, pulling his face away. She felt disappointment stab her like an ice pick.

“Angela, honey, I really think you ought to put some clothes on.”

She pulled back, staring into his eyes. They were like frozen cobalt, and his chin was set with determination.

“All right, Josh.” She felt numb, and horribly embarrassed. She was blushing…she could see it creeping over her chest and felt it on her neck and face.

“Honey, I don't mean…”

“That's okay,” she said, although it was no such thing. He didn't want her. Obviously. He couldn't want her. What was he still doing there?

“Put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt,” he said.

She nodded as she fled to the bedroom. She didn't want to see him…didn't think she could handle the humiliation. What was she doing? How had she ever thought this sort of an arrangement could work?

You can handle anything, Angela,
she could hear her mother's voice say in her head. She wasn't going to let him know how devastated she felt. It was just supposed to be a casual relationship. If he wanted to break it off with her after three months, no big deal.

She was cool and composed when she walked back out, wearing a T-shirt, sweat jacket and jeans with a hole in one knee. She pulled on her sneakers, and tugged her hair into its customary ponytail. “So where are we going?”

He smiled, and started to stroke her cheek. She forced herself not to pull away. “It's a surprise,” he said.

She let him lead her to the car. A surprise. She'd already been surprised enough for one morning.

 

I
N THE CAR
, Josh glanced over at Angela. She'd let him blindfold her, something he'd meant to be playful. But sitting there in the passenger seat of his car, still angled blindly away from him at the window, she looked more like the victim of a kidnapping than a romantic getaway.

Maybe he should have slept with her. He certainly
wanted
to. No matter how many times he saw her, having her just casually present herself naked was something that hit him like a punch in the gut every single time. He'd gone hard in a matter of seconds. He'd never reacted to anyone as passionately or as quickly as he did to Angela.

That's why I've got to show her—there's more to this than sex. That she's got to see it as more than just sex.

He drove with grim purpose. He'd tried talking to her, but she'd given coolly polite answers and then more silence. So he drove through the winding countryside, checking his map every so often. Finally, they got to his planned destination. His tires crunched on gravel as he pulled over to the side of the road.

“We're here,” he said, with enthusiasm. She merely nodded. “I'll help you out of the car.”

He ran around to the other side of the car, getting the door, helping her to her feet. Despite her outward aloofness, he saw her cock her head slightly. “Is that…water?” she asked slowly.

“Just a few more minutes. Wait right here.” He ran to his trunk, popping the latch and grabbing a few items, then running off a little distance. “Just stay there!” he yelled, as he made his preparations. When they were done to his satisfaction, he ran back to her. She was frowning behind the blindfold, and yet smiling slightly. “Okay, walk with me.”

The crunching of gravel gave way to the soft sounds of grass. “Where
are
we?” she asked, and he grinned.

“Just a second…here.” He turned her, then took off her blindfold.

She blinked a second, trying to get accustomed to the sunlight, then glanced around. He felt gratified as her mouth dropped open. “This is…this is Cache Creek,” she whispered. “I haven't been here since I was a little girl.”

He had taken her to a grassy cliff, overlooking rapids. The water crashed and gurgled. “I know. I saw a picture of you and your mother here, on the wall by your desk. I figured if it made you smile then…” He stopped, noticing that tears were forming in her eyes. “Whoa. This wasn't the reaction I was hoping for.”

She smiled even as a fat drop crawled down her cheek. “I…I'd always meant to come back here, but never had the time or the energy.” She did a quick twirl. “It's beautiful, Josh.” She turned to him, her smile hitting his bloodstream like pure sugar. “Thank you.” She kissed him, sweetly, then threw her arms around him for a hug.

He tugged her over to the picnic blanket he'd put out on the soft grass. She sat down, looking amazed. “What's all this?”

He pointed to the wicker basket he'd prepared. With fanfare, he opened it, “For today's lunch—or brunch, considering the time—we have the following—French rolls, herb cheese, fresh fruit…” He listed off each item as he presented it, Vanna White-style, onto the blanket. She smiled and applauded accordingly. He went through the contents, then finished with, “And for those of us with a sweet tooth no matter what hour of the day, I have cinnamon buns and chocolate cake.”

She grinned. “I can't believe this. You went to a lot of effort.” She glanced at the gift-wrapped box sitting next to the now empty basket. “And what is that?”

“That,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, “is for you.”

She glanced at him shyly. “You didn't have to get me a present.”

“I think that's the main reason I do…because you're never expecting it.” He nudged it toward her. “Go on. Open it.”

She looked at it for a second, then started to gingerly tug the wrapping off at the edges.

“Come on, come on. Tear into it,” he said.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Of all people, you should know about anticipation…” she said, then stopped cold when she got the wrapping off. “It's a food processor.”

“That way you won't get all tired chopping vegetables.” He waited for some reaction. She sat there, and to his alarm she started to get that weepy look. He quickly scooted next to her. “Don't cry. Please. I'll never get you a food processor again…”

“I don't…open up to people. Not easily, anyway.” Her voice sounded choked. “I don't
mean
to close people out, it just sort of happens. No one has ever gone through this sort of effort to get to know me—especially without me telling them. You are the most perceptive man I've ever met,” she whispered. “You know me better than I ever would have guessed. Sometimes, I think you know me better than I know myself. How do you do that?”

He grinned, chuckling softly. “Just lucky, I guess.”

 

I
COULD DIE
a happy woman, Angela thought as Josh skillfully drove them back from Cache Creek to his house. They had picnicked all morning, then in the after noon they had hiked and stared up at clouds, just like she had when she was a kid. It was one of the most
perfect days she'd ever had in her life. The sun was setting, a gorgeous fiery orange-red bleeding into midnight blue.