He disappeared and she had a fleeting thought that suddenly he was as discomposed as she was.
Was that possible?
Five minutes later when they met again back in the kitchen, her colour still hadn’t subsided. The gathering dusk helped, but then Riley produced a kerosene lantern and turned the little kitchen’s darkness to light. Her colour rose all over again.
He was respectable now, but only just. He was wearing faded jeans and nothing else. When he’d been covered in grimed clothes and dust, Jenna had thought the man was seriously good-looking, but now he was naked from the waist up, his broad chest was tanned and rippled, and his strongly boned face was rid of its dusty coating. The whole package meant Jenna had to fight not to gasp.
That and the memory of what she’d just seen…
She wasn’t interested in men, she told herself desperately. She’d never been interested in men. She’d seen what so-called romance did to women’s lives and she wanted no part of it. She’d been independent for ever and she intended to stay that way.
But the sight of Riley…
You can appreciate a good body without wanting it, she told herself fiercely, but still her face burned. She was way out of her comfort zone here. She was half a world out of her comfort zone.
Where was a magic carpet when she needed one?
‘I’m sorry we went into your bedroom,’ she managed and he smiled, a gentle, quizzical smile that was strangely at odds with the image she had of him as a man’s man. A threatening specimen of the male species. His smile was almost tender.
‘You hadn’t thought I might come out starkers.’ He took in her burning colour and grinned. ‘My apologies. I’m not used to women in my house. I’ll see that I stay respectable in the future.’
In future. Help. Jenna’s breath caught in panic as she stared across at this large, disconcerting male. She was stuck here for three days.
‘Can I interest you in baked beans?’
It was a thoughtful drawl from Riley and she looked up at his face, sharply suspicious. It was as if he could read her thoughts. She didn’t like the sensation.
Food. Concentrate on food. In truth, she must be hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She needed to wake Karli and persuade her to eat as well. But baked beans? Karli hardly ate anything and to persuade her to eat beans seemed impossible.
Once more her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Riley’s dark eyes creased into laughter.
‘This place is not a five-star restaurant, lady,’ he told her.
‘No.’ Trying to get her face in order, she knelt by the crate that seemed to hold all the food cans. ‘Do you have nothing but beans? You’ll get scurvy.’
‘Yeah, but I’ll die happy.’ He was standing above her, disconcertingly male. Disconcertingly big. ‘I like beans.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Lady…’
‘And neither does Karli,’ she said, unconscious of the fact that he was staring down at her with a very strange expression on his face. ‘I need to make her eat. Surely you don’t just exist on baked beans. No one could.’
‘I’m tough.’
‘Yeah, but surely not stupid. Or not that stupid.’ She was lifting cans out and inspecting their labels. Spaghetti. Baked beans. Spaghetti. Baked beans. But at the bottom were a few different labels, tossed in as if the packer hadn’t expected them to be used but had put them in as if to satisfy a conscience. They were cans of interesting things like water chestnuts, snow peas and capsicum. There were a few packets of herbs and spices. A few withered onions lay ignored underneath, and there was also a large packet of rice.
‘Can I use these?’ she asked, and Riley stooped beside her to take a look. His bare chest brushed her arm. He was so close. She edged away and almost toppled over. His hand came out and steadied her—which didn’t steady her in the least.
‘I opened a can of those water chestnut things once,’ he told her as if he was totally unaware of how aware of his closeness she was. ‘I tipped them over spaghetti. They tasted like—’
‘I can imagine how they tasted,’ Jenna said faintly. ‘Why did you pack them if you don’t like them?’
‘I didn’t pack them. Maggie packs for me. I make her put in the beans and spaghetti, but she always shoves in a few of those foreign jobs.’ He grinned and held up his hands as if in surrender. ‘You and Maggie would get along fine. You have a common interest in scurvy. Maggie says at the first sign of bandy legs or bleeding gums I’m to open them and eat them, regardless.’
‘Sensible woman.’ She sorted through the cans some more, still achingly aware of his body. ‘So who’s Maggie? Your wife?’
‘A wife?’ Was she imagining it or was there suddenly a trace of bitterness in his words. ‘No, ma’am. Maggie is…well, Maggie is my resident scurvy defence.’
‘She’s not resident here.’
‘Very acute, Miss Svenson. No, Maggie is not here. This place was my woman-free zone until you and Karli arrived, and I hope it will be again very soon.’
‘You don’t like women, then?’ It was a stupid question, she conceded. She had no business asking, but it just came out of left field. Then she had to concentrate on her cans as Riley stared at her and disconcerted her all over again.
There was a long silence. Finally he spoke again, and when he did Jenna knew she’d been right when she’d thought she detected bitterness. She’d hit a nerve and the nerve was still raw.
‘It’s not that I don’t like women,’ he told her. ‘It’s just that I don’t have time for them.’
‘Except for Maggie.’
‘As you say.’ He smiled at that. ‘Yep. Hooray for Maggie.’ He lifted a can of beans. ‘Let’s get these heated. I need to go to bed.’
‘Let me cook,’ she told him, rising with her hands full of the smaller cans. ‘Give me ten minutes and I’ll throw together something that’s edible.’
‘Beans are edible.’ He sounded hurt.
‘Not in my book,’ she retorted. Then at the look on his face—for heaven’s sake, he looked like a pup who’d just been kicked!—she relented. ‘Tell you what. You try what I cook, and if you don’t like it you can heat your beans. How’s that for a deal?’
‘Very generous—seeing it’s my food.’
Jenna grinned. ‘Noble’s my middle name. Why don’t you go away and I’ll call you when it’s ready?’
‘What, sit in the parlour and watch television on my chaise longue?’ Riley settled his long body onto a chair and placed his bare feet on the table. He leaned back, tilting his chair at a precarious angle and crossing
