Times Change

Chapter 6

A blast of music ripped Sunny out of a dead sleep and had her rearing up. When lights blinded her, she groaned and tossed a hand over her eyes in self-defense.

“Who ordered the party?” she asked as Tina Turner roared out rock at top volume.

Jacob, who had dozed off in front of the fire, simply pulled the blanket over his head. Whenever he slept, he preferred to do it like the dead.

Swearing, she pushed herself up off the couch. She had stumbled halfway to the stereo before it dawned on her. “Power!” she shouted, then immediately raced over to sit on Jacob. She heard a muffled grunt from under the blanket and bounced gleefully up and down. “We’ve got power, J.T. Lights, music, hot food!” When he only grunted again, she poked him. “Wake up, you slug. Don’t you know you can be shot for sleeping on sentry duty?”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I was bored into catatonia.”

“Well, snap out of it, pal. We’re back on the circuit.” She yanked the cover off his face and grinned when he scowled at her. “You need a shave,” she observed. Then, in her delight, she gave him a loud, smacking kiss between the eyes. “How about a hamburger?”

He got a bleary look at her face, all smiles and mussed hair. To his disgust, he felt his body responding. “It can’t be more than six in the morning.”

“So what? I’m starving.”

“Make mine rare.” He pulled the blanket over his face again.

“Uh-uh. You have to help.” Ruthlessly she ripped the blanket off him again. “Up and at ’em, soldier.”

This time he opened only one eye. “Up and at what?”

“It’s an expression, Hornblower.” She shook her head. “Just how long were you in that lab?”

“Not long enough.” Or entirely too long, if all it took to arouse him was a skinny woman sitting on his chest. “I can’t get up when you’re sitting on me. Besides, I think you broke my ribs.”

“Nonsense. I’m ten pounds underweight.”

“You wouldn’t think so from here.”

Too cheerful to be annoyed, she scrambled up, took a firm grip on his forearm and, after some pulling and tugging, dragged him to his feet. “You can make the french fries.”

“I can?”

“Sure.” To demonstrate her confidence in him, she kept her hand in his and pulled him into the kitchen. “Everything’s in the freezer. God, it’s cold in here.” She rubbed the bottom of one stockinged foot on the top of the other. “Here.” She tossed him a bag of frozen fries over her shoulder. “You just dump some on a cookie sheet and stick them in the oven.”

“Right.” He thought he could figure out the workings of the oven, but he hadn’t a clue as to what a cookie sheet might look like.

“Pans are . . . down there.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of a cabinet while she contemplated the package of hamburger.

“The meat’s frozen,” he pointed out.

“Yeah. Well, we’ll have sloppy joes.”

“Which are?”

“Delicious,” she assured him. Whistling along with the music, she began to rattle pots. Cooking was far down on her list of favorite pastimes, but when push came to shove she was willing to give it her best shot. “Here, use this.” She handed him a long, thin piece of metal blackened by heat.

The cookie sheet, Jacob surmised. He went to work. “I don’t suppose there’s a possibility of coffee.”

“Sure. I keep a stash.” Still whistling, she dumped the chunk of frozen meat in a pot and set it on low. In moments she had water on to boil and cups waiting. “Heat, hot water, real food.” She did a quick little tap dance before digging into a bag of potato chips. “You don’t appreciate the little things until you can’t have them,” she said with her mouth full. “I don’t know how people managed before electricity. Imagine having to heat water over an open fire. It must have taken forever.”

Jacob was watching the electric ring slowly turn red under the kettle. “Amazing,” he agreed, and contemplated just eating the coffee grounds dry.

“Those fries won’t cook unless you put them in the oven.”

“Yeah.” He wished she wouldn’t watch him as he studied the dials. The Bake setting seemed safe enough—unless they were supposed to be broiled. He would have given a year of his life for the nutritional center in his lab.

“Spend much time in the kitchen?” Sunny asked from behind him.

“No.”

“Who would have guessed?” With a cluck of her tongue, she turned the oven on, then popped the tray inside. “Takes about ten, maybe fifteen.”

“Seconds?”

“I love an optimist. Minutes.” Because she understood what it was like to wake up ready to chew glass, she patted his cheek. “Why don’t you go have a shower? You’ll feel better. Most of this should come together by the time you’re finished.”

“Thanks.” As he made his way upstairs he figured it was the nicest thing she’d done for him so far.

He spent a great deal of time cursing the ridiculously archaic workings of her shower. But she was right. He did feel better when he’d accomplished it. Using his ultrasound, he rid himself of his beard. Then he took his daily dose of fluoratyne for his teeth and, curious, poked inside the mirrored cabinet over the sink.

It was a scientific treasure trove. Lotions, potions, creams, powders. A glance at the safety razor made him shudder. The toothbrush made him grin. He saw little puffs of white that appeared to be cotton, thin brushes, tiny pots filled with vividly colored powder.

There was a cream with an exotic name. When he opened the top and sniffed, it was as if Sunny had joined him in the small, steamy room. He made quick work of putting it back on the shelf.

There were pills. A cursory glance showed him that she had them for headaches, body aches, head colds, chest colds. He would make a note to take back a few samples. There was a small plastic case that held a circle of tiny pills that weren’t marked at all. Since they were half gone, he assumed they were something she took regularly. That concerned him. He didn’t like to think that she was ill. Replacing them, he wondered how he might ask her about her medication.

He started downstairs, then simply followed the scents. He didn’t know what she could have done with the hunk of frozen meat, but it smelled like heaven. And there was coffee. No perfume could have been sweeter. She handed him a cup as he walked in the door.

“Thanks.”

“It’s okay. I know how it feels.”

He sipped, giving her a clinical study over the rim. Her eyes were clear, and her color was good. She looked perfectly healthy. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever having seen anyone healthier. Or more alluring.

“When you look at me like that I feel like a germ under a microscope.”

“Sorry. I was just going to ask how you felt.”

“A little stiff, a lot hungry, but basically okay.” She tilted her head. “How about you?”

“Fine. I had a headache,” he said, suddenly inspired. “I took some of your pills.”

“Okay.”

“The ones in the little blue case weren’t marked.”

Her eyes widened, rolled, then filled with laughter. “I don’t think they’d do you much good.”

“But you need them?”

This time she closed her eyes and shook her head. “And he calls himself a scientist. Yeah, you could say I need them. Better safe than sorry, right?”

Baffled, but losing ground, he nodded. “Right.”

“Then let’s eat.”

She had plates by the range with buns open on them. Using a generous hand, she scooped the saucy meat into them, tossed a heap of fries beside it and was done. She didn’t speak again until she’d worked her way through half the meal.

He watched her dump a stream of white crystal from a pottery tube on her potatoes. He shook some on his own experimentally. Salt, he discovered. The real thing. Though the taste was wonderful, he resisted the temptation to use more and wondered about her blood pressure. If he could have figured a way, he would have popped her into the medilab on the ship for a checkup.

“I guess we’re going to live.”

He wasn’t sure what he was eating, but she was right again. It was delicious. “It stopped snowing.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Listen, I hate to say it, but I’m glad you were here. I’d have hated to be here alone the last couple of days.”

“You’re pretty self-sufficient.”

“But it’s better when you have somebody to fight with. I never asked . . . do you plan to hang around until Cal and Libby get back? It could be weeks.”

“I came to see him. I’ll wait.”

She nodded, wishing his answer hadn’t relieved her. She was getting entirely too used to his company. “I guess you must be in a position to take as much time off as you like.”

“You could say that time is exactly what I do have. How long are you staying?”

“I’m not sure. It’s too late to get into school this semester. I thought I might write to some colleges. Maybe I’ll try the East Coast. It would be a change.” She sent him a quick, hesitant smile. “How would I like Philadelphia?”

“I think you would.” He wondered how to describe it to her so that she would understand. “It’s beautiful. The historic district is very well preserved.”

“The Liberty Bell, Ben Franklin, all that.”

“Yes. Some things last, no matter what else changes.” Though it had never mattered much to him before. “The parks are very green and shady. In the summer they’re full of children and students. The traffic’s miserable, but that’s all part of it. From the top of some of the buildings you can see the entire city, the movement, the old and the new.”

“You miss it.”

“Yes. More than I’d imagined.” But he was looking at her, seeing only her. “I’d like to show it to you.”

“I’d like that, too. Maybe we can talk Cal and Libby into flying out. You could have a real family reunion.” She saw his expression change and instinctively laid a hand over his. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.”

“You’re angry with him,” Sunny murmured.

“It’s personal.”

But she wasn’t going to be put off. He wasn’t the snarling idiot she had first assumed him to be. He was just confused. If there was one trait she shared equally with her sister, it was the inability to turn away a stray.

“J.T., you must see how unfair it is to resent Cal for falling in love and getting married, for starting a life here.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is.” This time, she promised herself, she would not lose her temper. “They’re both adults, and they’re certainly able to make up their own minds. Besides, well, they’re wonderful together.” He sent her a silent, cynical look that infuriated her. “They are. I’ve seen them with each other. You haven’t.”

“No.” He nodded. “I haven’t.”

“That’s nobody’s fault but—” She caught herself, ground her teeth and went on, more calmly. “What I’m trying to say is that I might not have known Cal before he became part of the family, but I know when someone’s happy. And he is. As for Libby—he does something for her no one else ever has. She’s always been so shy, so easily pushed into the background. But with Cal she just glows. Maybe it’s not the easiest thing to accept that someone else is the best thing that ever happened to a person you love—but you have to accept it when it’s true.”

“I don’t have anything against your sister.” Or, if he did, he intended to keep it to himself for the time being. “But I intend to talk to Cal about the change he’s made in his life.”

“You really are bullheaded.”

He considered the description and decided it was apt enough. “Yes.” He smiled at her, delighted by the sulky mouth, the lifted chin. “I’d say we both are.”

“At least I don’t go around poking my nose into other people’s affairs.”

“Not even pleasantly plump women who want to torture themselves into . . . what was it—a Merry Widow?”

“That was entirely different.” With a sniff, she pushed her plate away. “I may be cynical, but even I believe in love.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Oh, really?” Her lips curved, because she was sure she had backed him into a corner. “Then you won’t interfere if you see that Cal and Libby are in love.”

“If they are, I hardly could, could I? And if they’re not—” he gestured, palm up, “—then we’ll see.”

She steepled her fingers, measured him. “I could always send you back into the forest, let you freeze in your sleeping bag.”

“But you won’t.” He toasted her with his coffee cup. “Because, underneath the prickly hide, you’re basically kindhearted.”

“I could change.”

“No, you couldn’t. People don’t, as a rule.”

Abruptly intense, he leaned forward to take her hand. It was a gesture he didn’t make often, and one that he couldn’t resist at that moment. “Sunny, I don’t want to hurt your sister. Or you.”

“But you will. If we’re in your way.”

“Yes.” He turned her hand over thoughtfully. It was narrow, and surprisingly soft and delicate for one that packed such a punch. “You have strong family feelings. So do I. My parents . . . they’ve tried to understand Cal’s decision, but it’s difficult for them. Very difficult.”

“But they’ve only to see him for themselves to understand.”

“I can’t explain.” He shifted his eyes from their joined hands to hers. “I wish I could. More than I can tell you.”

“Are you in trouble?” she blurted out.

“What?”

“Are you in trouble?” she repeated, tightening her fingers on his. “With the law, or something.”

Interested, he kept his hand in hers. Her eyes were huge and drenched with concern. For him. He couldn’t remember ever being more touched. “Why would you think so?”

“The way you’ve come here . . . I guess the way you haven’t come before. And you act . . . I don’t know how to explain. You just seem so out of place.”

“Maybe I am.” It should have been amusing, but he didn’t smile. If he hadn’t been so sure he would regret it, he would have pulled her into his arms and just held on. “I’m not in trouble, Sunny. Not the way you mean.”

“And you haven’t been—” she searched for the most delicate way to approach the subject “—ill?”

“Ill?” Baffled, he studied her. The light dawned, slowly. “You think I’ve been—” Now he did smile, and surprised them both by bringing her hand to his lips. “No, I haven’t been ill, physically or otherwise. I’ve just been busy.” When she tried to draw her hand away, he held on. “Are you afraid of me?”

Pride had always been her strongest suit. “Why should I be?”

“Good question. You wondered if I was—” he gestured again “—unbalanced. But you let me stay. You even fed me.”

The uncharacteristic gentleness in his voice made her uncomfortable, “I’d probably have done the same for a sick dog. It’s no big deal.”

“I think it is.” When she pushed away from the table, he rose with her. “Sunbeam.”

“I told you not to—”

“There are times when it’s irresistible. Thank you.”

She was more than uncomfortable now. She was unnerved. “It’s okay. Forget it.”

“I don’t think so.” Gently his thumb stroked over her knuckles. “Tell me, if I had said I was in trouble, would you have helped?”

She tossed her head carelessly. “I don’t know. It would depend.”

“I think you would.” He took both her hands and held them until she was still. “Simple kindness, especially to someone away from home, is very precious and very rare. I won’t forget.”

She didn’t want to feel close to him. To be drawn to him. But when he looked at her like this, with such quiet tenderness, she went weak. There was nothing more frightening than weakness.

“Fine.” Fighting panic, she shook her hands free. “Then you can return the favor and do the dishes. I’m going for a walk.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t—”

“You said you weren’t afraid of me.”

“I’m not.” She let out a long-suffering breath. “All right, then, come on.”

The moment she opened the door, the cold stole her breath. The wind had died down and the sun was fighting through the layers of high clouds, but the air was like brittle ice.

It would clear her head, Sunny told herself. For a moment in the kitchen, with him looking so intently into her eyes, she’d felt as though . . . She didn’t know what she’d felt. She didn’t want to.

It was enough to be free to walk, though the snow was up to her knees. Another hour of confinement and she’d have gone mad. Perhaps that was what had happened to her in there, with him. A moment of madness.

“It’s wild, isn’t it?”

She stood in what had been the backyard and looked out on acres of solid white. The dying wind moaned through the trees and sent powdery snow drifting.

“I’ve always liked it best in the winter. Because if you’re going to be alone you might as well be completely alone. I forgot the bird food. Hang on.”

She turned, wading through the snow. He thought she moved more like a dancer now than an athlete. Graceful despite the encumbrances. It worried him to realize that he’d been content to watch her for hours. In a moment she was trudging back, dragging an enormous burlap sack.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to feed the birds.” She was out of breath but still moving. “This time of year they need all the help they can get.”

He shook his head. “Let me do it.”

“I’m very strong.”

“Yes, I know. Let me do it anyway.”

He took the sack, braced, put his back into it and began to haul it across the snow. It gathered snow—and weight—with every step.

“I thought you weren’t a nature lover.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d let them starve.” And she’d promised Libby.

He hauled the bag another foot. “Couldn’t you just dump it out?”

“If a thing’s worth doing—”

“It’s worth doing well. Yeah, I’ve heard that one.”

She stopped by a tree and, standing on a stump, began to fill a big wood-and-glass house with seed from the sack. “There we go.” She brushed seed from her hands. “Want me to carry it back?”

“I’ll do it. Why any self-respecting bird would want to hang around here in the middle of nowhere I can’t understand.”

“We’re here,” she called out as he hauled the sack across the snow.

“I can’t understand that, either.”

She grinned at his back, and then, not being one to waste an opportunity, she began to ball snow. She had a good-size pile of ammunition when he came out again, and she sent the first one sailing smack into his forehead.

“Bull’s-eye.”

He wiped snow out of his eyes. “You’ve already lost at one game.”

“That was poker.” She picked up another ball, weighed it. “This is war. And war takes skill, not luck.”

He dodged the next throw, swearing when he nearly overbalanced, then caught the next one in the chest. Dead center.

“I should tell you I was the top pitcher on my softball team in college. I still hold the record for strikeouts.”

The next one smacked into his shoulder, but he was prepared. In a move she had to admire, he came up with a stinging fastball that zoomed in right on the letters. He’d pitched a few himself, but he didn’t think he would mention that he’d been captain of the intergalactic softball team three years running.

“Not bad, Hornblower.” She sent out two, catching him with the second on the dodge. She had a mean curve, and she was pleased to note that she hadn’t lost her touch. Snow splattered all over his coat. One particularly well-thrown ball nearly took off his hat.

Before her pile began to dwindle, she had him at eight hits to two and was getting cocky. It didn’t occur to her that he had closed half the distance between them.

When he took one full in the face, she doubled over with laughter. Then she shrieked when he caught her under the arms and lifted her off her feet.

“Good aim, bad strategy,” he commented before he dropped her face first in the snow.

She rolled over, spitting out snow. “I still won.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

With a good-natured shrug, she held out a hand. He hesitated. She smiled. The moment he clasped her hand, she threw her weight back and had him flying into the drift beside her.

“What does it look like now?”

“Hand-to-hand.”

He grasped her by the shoulders. They only sank deeper. Snow worked its way, cold and wet, down the collar of his borrowed coat. He found it, and the way her body twisted and turned against his, impossibly stimulating. She was laughing, kicking up snow as she tried to pin him on the icy mat. Breathless, she managed a half nelson, and she nearly had the call when she felt herself flying over his shoulder.

She landed with a thump, half buried, and lay there for a second, dragging in air. “Nice move,” she panted. Then she dived at him again. She scissored, dipped and managed to slither out of his hold. Working fast, she twisted until she was half-sitting, half-lying on his back. Using her weight, she dunked his face in the snow.

“Say uncle.”

He said something a great deal ruder, and she laughed so hard she nearly lost her grip.

“Come on, J.T., a real man admits it when he’s licked.”

He could have beaten her, he thought in disgust as his face numbed. But twice when he’d tried for a hold his hand had skimmed over particularly interesting curves. It had broken his concentration.

“Two out of three,” he mumbled.

“If we try for two out of three, we’ll freeze to death.” Taking his grunt for agreement, she helped him turn over. “Not bad for a scientist.”

“If we took it indoors, you wouldn’t have a chance.” But he was winded.

“The point is, I came out on top.”

He lifted a brow. “In a manner of speaking.”

She only grinned. “I wish you could see your face. Even your eyelashes are white.”

“So are yours.” He lifted a gloved hand that was already coated with snow and rubbed it on her face.

“Cheat.”

“Whatever works.” Exhausted, he let his hand drop again. He didn’t know the last time he’d been taken—or when he’d enjoyed it so much.

“We’d better get some more wood.” She braced a hand to get up, slipped and landed with a thump on his chest. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’ve got a few ribs left.”

His arms had come around her. His face was close. It was a mistake, she knew, to stay this way, even for a moment. But she didn’t move. And then she didn’t think. It was the most natural thing in the world for her to lower her lips to his.

They were cool, and firm, and everything she wanted. Kissing him was like diving headfirst into a cold mountain lake. Thrilling, exhilarating. And risky. She heard her own sound of pleasure, quick and quiet, before she threw what was left of caution to the winds and deepened the kiss.

She winded him. Weakened him. Loss of control meant nothing. Control was meant to be given up in passion. But this . . . this was different. As her lips heated his, he felt both will and strength drain away. There was a mist in his brain as thick and as white as the snow they lay in. And he could think of nothing and no one but her.

The women who had come before her were nothing. Shadows. Phantoms. When her mouth slid agilely over his he understood that there would be no women after her. She had, in one heady instant, taken over his life. Surrounded it, invaded it. Consumed it.

Shaken, he brought his hands to her shoulders, prepared, determined, to hurl her aside. But his fingers only tightened, and his need only grew.

It was like a rage in him. She could feel it. It was building in her, as well. A fury. A driving hunger. And his mouth, his mouth alone, was dragging her over the rocky border between heaven and hell. So close, she thought, that she could feel the flames licking at her skin, tempting her to tumble recklessly into the fire. For it would be all brimstone and heat with him. And she was afraid, very afraid, that she would never be satisfied with less.

She lifted her head, an inch, then two. She was amazed to find her mind spinning and her breath uneven. It had only been a kiss, she reminded herself. A kiss, however passionate, didn’t alter lives. Still, she wanted distance, and quickly, so that she could convince herself she was the same person she had been before it.

“We really have to get that wood,” she managed. Suddenly she was terrified that she wouldn’t be able to stand. It wouldn’t do her ego a bit of good to have to crawl back to the house. Cautiously she rolled away from him. Then, using every ounce of will she possessed, she dragged herself to her feet. She made a production out of brushing the snow from her coat and wished he would say something. Anything.

“Look.”

Wary, she turned. But he was only pointing to the feeder, where a few hardy birds were enjoying breakfast. It helped her relax a little. “Well, I’ve done my duty by them.” Because she was suddenly and brutally aware of the cold, she gave herself a quick shake. “I’m going in.”

She waded across the snow. They didn’t speak again as they gathered wood, as they tromped snow from their boots or as they carried the logs to the woodbox. Sunny banked down an urge for a steaming cup of tea. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to think.

“I’m going up for a shower.” Feeling miserably awkward, she watched him toss logs on the fire.

“Fine.”

She made a face at his back. “Fine.”

He waited until he heard her climb the stairs before he straightened. The woman was scrambling his brain, he decided. It was highly probable that he was still disoriented from the trip. That was why she was having such a profound effect on him. All he needed was a little more time to adjust. Data or no data, it would be best if he took that time aboard ship.

He took a long, thoughtful look at the cabin. Still, he’d promised to do the dishes. It would be an interesting experience to try his hand at it.

Upstairs, Sunny stripped off layers of clothes, letting each item fall carelessly to the floor. Naked, she turned the shower on, letting it run until the hot water was steaming. She winced as she stepped under it, then let out a long, lazy sigh.

Better, she told herself. It was certainly a better way of getting her blood moving than kissing Jacob. No, it wasn’t.

She laid her forehead against the wall of the shower and with her eyes closed let the water rain over her.

Maybe she’d been a little crazy when she’d kissed him, but she’d never felt more alive. She couldn’t blame him, not this time. She had made the move. She had looked into his eyes and known he was the one.

Yet how could he be? She barely knew him, was far from convinced she trusted him. Half the time she was sure she disliked him. But . . . But, she thought again. The other half of the time she was afraid she was falling in love with him.

It was completely irrational, undeniably foolish and totally genuine. All she had to do was figure out what to do about it.

Pouring shampoo into her palm, she tried to think. She was a practical woman. As far back as her memory took her, she had been able to take care of herself. Problems, even emotional ones, were meant to be surmounted. If she was falling in love, she would deal with it. The trick was not to do anything rash.

Caution, common sense and control, Sunny decided. She lathered her skin lavishly. She would keep a practical distance from Jacob until she got to know him better, until she was more certain of her feelings. It made perfect sense. More confident now, she turned under the spray and let the water sluice the suds from her.

Once she had determined her own feelings, she would work on his. There was no denying he was a strange sort of man. Interesting, certainly, but different in ways she had yet to fully figure out.

She could handle him. After turning off the water, she slicked a hand down her hair. She had always been able to handle men very satisfactorily. In this case, she just had to handle herself first.

Satisfied, she kicked her clothes out of the way. Dry, she wrapped a towel around her and stepped out into the hall.

***

He’d enjoyed doing the dishes. It was just the sort of mindless chore he’d needed to relax his mind. And his body. The plastic squeeze bottle marked dishwashing liquid claimed to contain real lemon juice. He took a sniff of his hands and found the lingering scent pleasant. As soon as he got back to the ship he was going to make a report on it.

And the task had given him time to put his reaction to Sunny in perspective. Being attracted to her was natural, even elemental. But he was intelligent enough to control certain primal urges. Particularly when acting on them would cause incredible complications.

She was beautiful, desirable, but she was also impossible. The idea of pursuit had been a bad one. He was well aware now that a physical encounter with her would not be simple. It could only be problematic. He would solve the problem for both of them by gathering up his things and spending the bulk of his time on his ship. When Cal came back he would convince his brother that he had made a mistake. Then they would go home, where they belonged. And that would be the end of it.

It should have been. Perhaps it would have been. But he came to the top of the stairs just as Sunny stepped out of the bath. She held a towel at her breasts with both hands. He gripped the rail so hard that he wondered the wood didn’t crumble under his fingers.

Bad timing. The thought went through both of their heads. Or perhaps it was perfect timing.