"You sure," he asked, his face just inches from hers, "that there"s no one special in your life?"
His voice was very soft. She could hear the threads of sorrow in it.
"I"m sure," she said.
"No one you admire from afar? No great long-lost love?"
She laughed, feeling a bit uncomfortable. At the same time, it felt right that he should ask these questions. As if he needed to know.
As if she needed to tell him.
"No," she said. "I"ve dated, but there"s never been anyone serious."
His gaze went to her lips, and for a brief moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Then he moved back to his chair.
"Sorry," he said. "I"m usually not this serious."
"It"s all right." She plucked her winegla.s.s off the tray beside her. The gla.s.s had become a lifeline.
"No," he said. "It"s inappropriate. I guess I keep thinking there"s someone out there who had a weird vibe this afternoon and is now worried about you. Silly, huh?"
She shrugged. "Probably a natural reaction to what we went through today."
"Not my natural reaction," he said. "My reaction to something like this is to joke about it inappropriately."
"I don"t believe that." She swirled her wine just as she had seen him do. The wine had a marvelous red color and a smoothness she wasn"t used to. She had a hunch it was very expensive.
"Oh, it"s true," he said. "If there"s an offensive comment to be made, I usually find it."
"You haven"t been offensive to me."
"I guess you caught me at a bad moment."
She sipped the wine. "Or maybe a good moment."
"If that were possible." He leaned back in his chair. "Lenny Bruce fired me. He said my jokes were too tame."
"You"re not old enough to write for Lenny Bruce," she said.
He raised his eyebrows at her. "You know about Lenny Bruce?"
"I"ve seen his routines."
"Not live," he said. "You"re not old enough."
"Or lucky enough," she said. "He was good."
"And funny."
"And raunchy." She grinned. ""And" he wrote his own material."
He grinned in return. "Caught me."
"If you"re going to impress me with your raw wit, you have to do better than that."
His grin faded. He looked down at his gla.s.s. Something she said had changed his mood.
"Mostly," he said, "I just offend people. I figure if I can p.i.s.s them off, they"re not worth my time."
"Really?" she asked. "I always thought that if a person was smart enough, he could p.i.s.s anyone off."
He raised his head and gave her a measuring look. "Why? Is that a hobby of yours too?"
She shook her head. "I"m one of those Milquetoast people who works hard at keeping everyone calm."
"I don"t think a Milquetoast person would have been hiking alone, let alone have enough presence of mind to roll over and catch herself with a knife blade."
He had seen that. They hadn"t talked much about her fall. She was still unclear about what exactly had happened.
"Not that the knife blade worked," she said.
"It worked long enough for me to be able to help," he said and bit his lip.
She leaned back on the pillows. Something about this entire topic made him nervous and she wasn"t sure what it was. "Was that when you saw me?"
He nodded. "I heard something odd, then saw you digging that knife in. I"m not even sure I would have known you were there if you hadn"t done that."
She ran her thumb along the gla.s.s"s warm side. If he hadn"t known she was there, she would have died on that ledge. Even if she had regained consciousness, she had no idea how she would have climbed back up. She didn"t have mountain climbing tools, and then there was the small matter of the broken ankle.
"I owe you everything," she said softly.
"No," he said, "you don"t."
He sounded almost panicked by her words, as if he didn"t want anyone to be in his debt. Still, she had to ask. "What can I do to repay you?"
He stood, went to the window, and pulled it open. The cool evening air poured in, making her realize just how stuffy the house had been. Then he came back to his chair and sat on the arm.
She got that strange sense of duality again, as if he were going to tell the absolute truth and lie to her at the same time.
"I"m not used to visitors," he said. "The last person who slept in that guest room was Hemingway."
At first she thought he was joking, but he seemed too serious for that.
"Really?" she asked. "Which one? Mariel?"
He smiled. The look on his face was fond. "No. Ernest."
"You"re kidding, right? You weren"t even born when he died."
Darius started, as if he were coming out of a dream. For a moment, his expression was sheer surprise; then he picked up his winegla.s.s. He didn"t drink, though.
"I didn"t say it was recent," he said. "He was here in the Twenties. He used this as a hunting shack."
"So you bought it from his family?"
Darius shook his head. "This has been in my family for more than a hundred years."
She had no idea the place was that old. There"d clearly been a lot of renovation. "Wow. How did your people find this place?"
"Accident," he said. "It was a mining shack. I--um, I think this was squatter country. I don"t think anyone paid for the land."
"Well, someone paid for the house."
"Oh, yeah," he said. "I did a lot of the renovations."
"But no electricity, huh?" She couldn"t comprehend living in a house with no electricity. Camping without it was one thing--she didn"t expect to flick a switch and have lights. But living here without the benefit of power seemed strange to her.
He slid into the chair. He was now sitting with his back against one arm and his legs draped over the other. It looked like a teenager"s posture--or an athlete"s.
"No lines come up this far. There weren"t phones either, until some idiot invented cellular technology. Now you can"t get away from anything."
"Sure you can," she said. "You just have to choose not to bring a phone with you. Besides, they told me cell phones don"t work up here."
"They don"t," he said. "You need a satellite phone. And no, I don"t have one. I"m a bit of a Luddite."
"So I"ve noticed," she said. "I haven"t seen a stove like that outside of a museum."
"I have two generators, but I prefer not to use power for things that I can do myself."
She nodded. "I guess that"s why I like camping. I feel as if I"m getting back to nature, even though I know I"m not."
"Yeah," he said. "Back in those natural days, no one had aluminum pans."
"Or lightweight tents."
"Or water filters."
"Or dehydrated food."
"Well, I"m sure they were all sad about that."
She smiled. "Is that one of those biting comments I"ve heard so much about?"
"That wasn"t biting. That didn"t even qualify as sarcastic. If anything, it was mildly amusing."
She stretched and leaned back on her pillows. "This is a great place. If I had a haven like this, I"d never leave it."
"Don"t you like civilization?"
"Most of the time it"s all right. But I think it takes away our opportunities to test our limits."
He slid around so that he sat properly in the chair. "Actually, I think civilization gives people the opportunity to test their limits. Otherwise, they"d simply be struggling to survive. Life has improved a lot over the last few thousand years."
"There wasn"t civilization three thousand years ago?" she asked.
"Of course there was," he said. "I just meant--"
"I know what you meant." She smiled sleepily. She could banter with him all night, but the day"s events were beginning to take their toll on her. "I just wonder sometimes if we forget why we"re here."
He bent over, resting his elbows on his knees and turning the winegla.s.s around in his fingers. "Do you think people should always do what they"re supposed to do?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Too much wine. Now I"m not only serious but maudlin. You don"t need that tonight. You need to laugh."
"Actually," she said, "I need to go lie down. My brain wants to keep going, but my body has had enough for one day."
"Found its limit, huh?" Darius asked with a smile.
"Oh, I suppose I could push it farther, but I"ve never had the chance to sleep in Hemingway"s bed before." Then she blushed. She usually didn"t say things like that. What had gotten into her?
Darius set down his winegla.s.s and stood. "Let me help you."
"No." She sat up all the way and reached for the crutches. "I can"t haul you back to civilization and have you carry me from place to place. Imagine how that would look."
He studied her for a long moment, as if he were imagining that. "We"d attract attention."
"That we would." She picked up the crutches, got them into position, and somehow got to her feet. She had no idea how people who weren"t athletic did this. It was hard enough for her.
Darius hadn"t moved. His gaze met hers, and this time the sadness was gone. She got a sense of deep loneliness and strength.
He cupped her face. His touch was gentle. He ran his thumb over her lips. She opened them just a little. She wanted him to kiss her. She"d never wanted anyone to kiss her like this before--so much that her entire being felt the longing.
He leaned toward her, sliding his hand to her shoulder and bracing her. Then his mouth brushed hers. It felt as if he were going to move away, but she caught his lips. They parted and the kiss deepened. He took a step closer to her, putting one hand on her back to help her keep her balance.
Then he pulled her against him.
She almost dropped the crutches. The kiss took something from her, and made her feel as if she"d found something as well. She was no longer just her--she was part of a them, part of something greater than herself.
She let go of her right crutch and slipped her hand in his golden hair, feeling the softness of his curls. The crutch fell sideways, knocking against his chair before clattering to the floor.
His hands slid down her back, pressing her against him. His body felt marvelous against hers. For the first time, she was kissing a man who was the right height, who didn"t have to reach up or bend down to kiss her. They fit together.
And then, suddenly, he let her go.
She staggered on her one good foot, losing her balance, but before she could fall, he had caught her again.
"Sorry," he said, and it felt like he was apologizing for more than knocking her off balance. "I"m so sorry."