IN SEARCH OF DREAMS Page 5

  "Mmm. Interesting." He was quiet for a moment, then said casually, "You mentioned a brother. Does he help you run the place?"

  Kate tensed again and shot him a sharp look, but J.T.'s expression was innocent enough. Apparently once again his question had been prompted by nothing more than idle curiosity.

  "No. Zach hasn't lived in Gold Fever for years." Not since their mother married the Reverend Bob Sweet, and changed all their lives, Kate thought sadly. "He takes care of repairs and whatever needs doing when he's here, but as I said, he has his own life."

  Time to back off, J.T. told himself, reading the suspicion in her eyes. You're going to have to take it slow with this one, Conway. The lady is as wary as a gazelle in lion territory.

  J.T. finished off his eggs and drained his coffee cup, and cocked an eyebrow at Kate. "Speaking of chores, can I give you a hand with anything today before I get started on my book outline? I'll be glad to help you finish the composting, or whatever else needs doing."

  "No, thank you. I have everything under control."

  "You sure? I don't mind lending a hand."

  "I'm quite sure, thank you."

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  Just over a month later Kate felt foolish for having worried at all. She rarely saw J.T.

  Apparently the muse had him firmly in its grip. Every day, all day and late into the night, he was either in the library with his nose buried in a book or holed up in his room, tapping furiously on his laptop keyboard. Thanksgiving came and went, but J.T. hadn't seemed to notice.

  He showed up for meals only occasionally, and though it pained her to do so, she put his food in the refrigerator as he'd requested. Sometimes he got around to eating it and sometimes he didn't.

  Kate tried to tell herself it was none of her concern. If the man wanted to starve himself, it didn't matter to her.

  But it did. Like it or not, she was a born nurturer. A mother hen, her father and Zach used to call her, just like her mother. Which was why they had both taken so well to running a B&B, Kate supposed.

  Taking care of people, seeing to their needs and comforts was a pleasure to her, and it came as naturally as breathing. Try as she might, she simply could not go about her business without worrying that J.T. wasn't eating right.

  In mid-December, when he failed to show up for dinner the third evening in a row, she could take it no longer. It simply wasn't healthy to skip meals, she told herself as she marched up the stairs. For all she knew, he could be passed out on the floor from hunger at that very moment.

  Pausing outside his door, Kate listened, but there was no click of the laptop keyboard from the other side, only silence.

  Could he be asleep at seven in the evening? Oh, Lord, what if he really had passed out? Or was ill?

  She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated. Shifting from one foot to the other, she chewed her bottom lip. Maybe she should leave him alone. After all, he had been emphatic about not wanting to be disturbed. But then, the Do Not Disturb sign wasn't hanging on the doorknob.

  Taking a deep breath, she tapped lightly on the door. When nothing happened she knocked again, louder this time. She waited for what seemed like minutes, but still the only response was silence.

  Concern began to bubble up inside her, filling her chest. Kate looked around, as though help would appear out of nowhere. Should she go in? He could be ill. Or hurt.

  "J.T.? J.T., are you in there?" She knocked again, then pressed her ear to the panel and listened.

  Nothing.

  Panicked now, she pounded the door with the side of her fists. Her hand was poised to deliver another round of thumps when J.T. snatched the door open and barked, "What?"

  "I…I—"

  He didn't look anything like the cheerful man who had invaded her kitchen only six weeks ago. J.T.'s face was thunderous, and his eyes had a wild look, as though he'd just been jerked awake from a dream or a trance. Exhaustion had smudged dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. His rumpled clothes looked as though he'd slept in them, his hair hadn't been touched by a comb in Lord knew when, and at least three days worth of beard stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked untamed and fierce.

  And dangerous.

  "I, uh … I came to tell you that dinner is ready."

  "Dinner?" He stared at her. A low sound started deep in his throat and rumbled up. When it reached a crescendo he clapped a hand against his forehead and dragged it slowly down over his face. Against his palm, his beard stubble made a scratchy sound like course sandpaper.

  He opened his eyes again, and they fixed on her like twin blue laser beams. "You interrupted me to tell me that dinner is ready? Dammit, woman, I'm working in here!" he roared. "I specifically told you not to disturb me when I was working except for an emergency. And by that I mean there'd better be fire or a helluva lot of blood involved. Got it?"

  Kate's first instinct was to take a step back. Instead she raised her chin and pointed to the intricate copper doorknob. "You said not to disturb you when the sign was out. It's not. I thought perhaps you'd fallen asleep."

  He bent toward her until they were almost nose to nose and snarled through clenched teeth, "If I had been and you woke me I wouldn't be any happier than I am now, I promise you."

  Any trepidation she felt evaporated in the face of his obnoxious attitude. Kate's spine stiffened and her voice turned as frosty as Wisconsin in winter. "I was simply concerned. Breakfast was hours ago, and you didn't show up for lunch. I thought you would be hungry by now."

  "If I was I'd have come down to dinner, now, wouldn't I? What I am is busy. Just stick the food in the fridge like I asked. I'll eat it later if I get hungry. Now good night."

  He stepped back and slammed the door before she could reply. Astonished, Kate stared at the wooden panel just inches from her face. Before she could moved or even react, the door jerked opened again partway.

  A beady eye glared at her through the crack. J.T.'s hand shot out, hooked the Do Not Disturb sign over the outside doorknob, withdrew, and the door snapped shut again.

  The sound was followed by the sharp click of the lock. Kate stared at the swinging sign with disbelief, her temper coming to a boil. Never in her life had anyone slammed a door in her face!

  She was so angry she was tempted to haul off and give the door a hard kick. If she hadn't valued the old paneled walnut—and her toes—she would have.

  Teeth clenched, her eyes narrowed into slits, Kate stood there for several seconds, glaring at the intricate grain of the wood and debating with herself about banging on it again and giving him a dressing down that would blister his ears.

  Finally, though, she huffed, spun on her heels and stomped back down the stairs. See if she would ever try to be nice to him again. From now on the obnoxious oaf could starve for all she cared.

  And to think that she had been worried about falling for him. Ha! Fat chance.

  Kate didn't see J.T. again that evening, nor all the next day, but she would not allow herself to worry about him. He could hole up in his room and rot for all she cared. If she'd known he was a Jekyll and Hyde she would never have agreed to let him stay in the first place.

  The second morning after their run-in she entered the kitchen to find dirty dishes in the sink. Kate gave the mess a sour look and loaded it all into the dishwasher, determined not to feel relieved that he'd finally eaten something.

  After a solitary breakfast, Kate spent the morning finishing the outside winterizing. Though the sun was shining, the wind had a bitter bite, a reminder that the first storm of the season was bearing down on the mountains. As soon as she went back inside she telephoned Lewis Goodman for the third time in as many days, and got into a heated argument with him over the firewood he had been promising to deliver for over a month.

  Lewis, like everyone else in Gold Fever, hated doing business with Kate, but not enough to turn down her money. Particularly since she ordered more firewood than anyone else in town. However, he alw
ays made the transaction as difficult for her as he could.

  "You'll get your firewood when I'm ready to deliver it," he barked.

  "Lewis, the weather service is predicting snow by the end of the week. I need that firewood. I'm warning you, if you don't deliver it soon, I'm going to call a woodcutter in Durango or Ouray."

  He gave a confident snort, and she could almost see his smirk. "You won't do that. It'll cost you three times as much if they have to haul the wood all the way up here."

  "It'll be worth it not to have to put up with your rudeness and game playing!" she snapped, and hung up the telephone before he could argue more.

  Between her maddening boarder and Lewis, Kate's mood was less than serene. Needing an outlet for the fury churning inside her, she attacked her inside chores with a vengeance.

  First she gathered all the laundry and lugged it down to the basement—all, that is, except what was in J.T.'s room. Which was just one more thing that was getting under her skin. She would probably have to muck out his room with a shovel if he didn't surface soon.

  When the washing machines were chugging away, she returned to the kitchen, where she cleaned out the refrigerator and scrubbed the oven, stove top and vent hood, but even when the jobs were done she was still simmering.

  Hoping to work off the rest of her anger, she spent the entire afternoon cleaning out the kitchen cabinets and putting in new shelf paper. In between chores she made several trips to the basement to transfer washing to the dryers and fold and put away the clean laundry.

  Throughout it all there was no sign of J.T. When Kate dragged her weary body upstairs to shower before cooking dinner, she didn't so much as glance in the direction of his room.

  Two hours later Kate put the salad she had just made into the refrigerator, then returned to the stove and dropped a pinch of mustard seed into the boiling water, added the pasta and gave it a stir.

  "Mmm, something sure smells good in here."

  Kate's heart did a little jump, but she quickly composed her features and flicked a glance over her shoulder. J.T.'s head was stuck inside the partially opened door that led in from the hall.

  His eyes twinkled at her, and that wicked grin flashed, but Kate merely gave him a dismissive look and turned her attention back to the simmering pots.

  "Uh-oh."

  Kate still did not respond, and from the corner of her eye, she saw him push the door open wider and cautiously step into the kitchen. She angled her shoulder to present him with her back and lifted the lid on another pot. Steam rose in a cloud, filling the air with the citrus scent of julienne carrots simmering in orange juice.

  "You're still upset with me, aren't you?"

  The question came from the vicinity of her right ear a second before a firm hand settled on her other shoulder. The spoon Kate was holding clattered against the side of the pot and her head snapped around. She found herself looking into a pair of vivid blue eyes, mere inches from her own.

  She hadn't expected to confront him at such close range, and her heart gave another kick. His fresh-from-the-shower smell mingled with the cooking aromas and went straight to her head and numbed her brain. Kate commanded her feet to move, but the message didn't seem to be getting through.

  J.T. smiled sheepishly. "I guess I forgot to tell you that I'm a bear when I'm working, huh?"

  "I guess you did," Kate replied in a frosty voice, not giving an inch.

  "The rest of the time I'm really easy to get along with. Honest. I am. I swear it. Just ask any of the people who know me. They'll tell you." His smile changed from rueful to coaxing, and his twinkling eyes beguiled. "It's just that when I'm writing I need all my concentration. Interruptions stop the flow and I see red."

  At last she managed to sidle away a couple of feet. She felt marginally better with some space between them, but the sidelong look she shot him remained sullen. "That's hardly an excuse. You were insufferably rude."

  "You're absolutely right. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

  "Or slammed the door."

  "Or slammed the door. I'm sorry, Kate. Really. I'd been working for over thirty-six hours without a break and was exhausted. After you left I crashed and slept until noon." He held up his hands when she started to speak. "I know. That's still no excuse, but well … here, I got you these. Maybe they'll help."

  He whipped a bouquet from behind his back and held it out to her.

  "Oh." Kate's mouth dropped open, and her hand flew to her chest. "Spring flowers? In December? How on earth…? Where did you get them? There's no florist in Gold Fever."

  She was unaware of taking the bouquet from him, but suddenly she had her face buried in a cloud of daisies and daffodils. Eyes closed, she inhaled the sweet scent and smiled.

  "So I discovered. The nearest one I found was in Durango."

  Kate raised her head from the fragrant blossoms and stared at him, overwhelmed. "You went all the way to Durango and back just to get flowers for me? But … when? How? All day I thought you were up in your room working."

  "I sneaked out this morning while you were arguing with someone on the telephone. What was that all about, by the way?"

  "Oh … nothing. Just a disagreement with a local supplier." There was no way to tell him about her on-going battle with Lewis and other merchants without getting into the reason for their animosity, and she wasn't willing to discuss that.

  She gazed at the bouquet and told herself not to be foolish. A bunch of flowers couldn't erase his obnoxious behavior.

  It didn't do any good. She was hopelessly touched.

  Fingering a satiny yellow petal, she shook her head. "I still can't believe you did this, that you drove all that way for flowers."

  "I had to do something to prove that I was sorry." Ducking his head boyishly, J.T. wiggled his eyebrows and gave her a cajoling smile that no woman under the age of ninety could resist. "So? Am I forgiven?"

  Kate wanted to cling to her righteous anger a bit longer, but it wasn't to be. Charmed in spite of everything, she shot him an exasperated look and sighed. "Oh, I suppose so."

  "Great!"

  Taking her unawares, he grasped her shoulders, bent over the bouquet she held cradled against her breast and caught her mouth in a kiss that sent shock waves all the way to her toes and rendered her mindless.

  Sizzling heat streaked through Kate, flushing her skin and making her heart pound, her head spin, her stomach flutter. Strange and thrilling sensations bolted through her like a current of high-voltage electricity.

  J.T. must have felt it, too. After only a moment he broke off the kiss and raised his head. The flirtatious grin was gone. In its place was a look of mild surprise and unmistakable male interest.

  "Well, well," he murmured. Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he released one of her arms and reached to take the bouquet from her, but Kate held firm to the flowers with one hand and placed the other flat against his chest to hold him back.

  "No, J.T. No." She shook her head, struggling to shake off the haze of passion and regain her senses. "We can't … we can't do this."

  He chuckled, but this time the sound was husky and sensual, and sent prickles over her skin. With ridiculous ease, he picked up her hand and brought it to his lips and placed a warm kiss against her palm. "Sure we can, sweetheart. I want you, and you want me." His lazy grin widened. "Don't even try to deny it."

  "I wasn't going to, but—"

  The oven timer erupted with a nerve-shattering buzz, and Kate jumped as though she'd been poked with a cattle prod.

  "What! Oh! Let go. I have to take the chicken out of the oven before it's ruined."

  "Kate," he began, but she pulled her arm free of his grip, snatched up a pair of oven mitts and whirled away to open the oven door.

  When she turned from depositing the pan of Dijon chicken on the range top, she braced for anger and wounded male pride, but J.T. seemed his usual cheerful self.

  Perfectly at ease, he leaned back against the counter, his legs crossed at the a
nkles, arms folded over his chest, and watched her with an amused smile tugging at his lips.

  He raised one eyebrow. "You were saying?"

  "I was saying no."

  "Really? That's funny. That didn't feel like no to me."

  "I'm not saying that I'm not attracted to you, J.T. Or that … well … that I don't want … uh…"

  "Want to make love with me?" he finished helpfully.

  Kate frowned but didn't bother to deny the statement. "It just wouldn't work."

  "Oh? And why is that?"

  Every cell in her body still hummed like a struck tuning fork, but she struggled to appear calm and firm. "For one thing I barely know you. For another, I'm not in the habit of sleeping with male guests."

  "Roommate," he corrected.

  "Roommate, guest, tenant, whatever you want to call it," she said, impatience edging her voice. "The fact is, getting involved with you just wouldn't be a sensible thing to do."

  "I see. And do you always do the sensible thing, Katy?"

  "I try my best." This time she refused to acknowledge his use of the hated nickname. He'd only said it, she was sure, to rile her.

  "Hmm." Cocking his head, J.T. tugged his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, and studied her, considering. Finally he nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right."

  Kate blinked. "You're not angry."

  "Naw. This whole thing was my fault, anyway. That was supposed to be just a quick makeup kiss between friends. I got a little carried away, is all. Don't worry about it."

  Friends? Merciful heavens! If that was the way he kissed friends, she could not begin to imagine how he kissed a lover.

  Before she could think of something to say, he straightened away from the counter, sniffed the air appreciatively and rubbed his palms together with relish. "So, when do we eat?"

  "Oh!" Kate quickly turned back to the stove. "Have a seat. Dinner will be ready in just a minute," she said over her shoulder, pulling a platter and serving bowl from the cabinet. "Just as soon as I dish everything up and set the table."