lifting her hand to her lip and staring at the blood that came away on her fingertips.
“I don’t like being manipulated, Miss Baron.”
She looked up, blue eyes widening. “I wasn’t manipulating you. I just thought—”
“You couldn’t get under my skin verbally, so you tried the next best way to get a reaction out of me.” Cliff half turned away, angry with her and disgusted with himself. “That was a stupid trick,” he snapped. “It could have gotten you into a lot of trouble.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, studying him with an unnerving solemnity. “You’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”
He cursed under his breath—half at himself for reacting to her ploy. He was shaking inside.
“In fact,” Liza said quietly, watching as Cliff worked at pulling himself together, “I’m beginning to think we’re a little alike.”
He laughed shortly and shook his head. “There’s a fundamental difference between you and me, Miss Baron.”
“Which is?”
“You’re a born fighter. You like to get a rise out of people and make them angry. You feed on conflict. Hell, you’re at war with the whole world!”
“And you?”
Cliff turned away, suddenly wishing he was alone again. “Me,” he said, “I’ve given up.”
IF SHE’D HAD enough nerve, Liza would have asked him a dozen questions then. But the memory of his ferocious grip and a kiss that had been clearly born of anger, not attraction, along with the shuttered expression on Cliff Forrester’s taut face, told Liza she’d better keep her mouth shut. For once, she listened to the voice of common sense in her head.
He didn’t give her a chance to work up more courage, either. Curtly asking for her car keys, he got behind the wheel and tried the Thunderbird’s engine. It started, but the rattling sound that immediately rose from under the hood prompted him to shut off the ignition at once.
Still behind the wheel, he considered the problem for a long moment, during which he appeared to fight with his own feelings. “I’ll drive you into town,” he said eventually, looking as if he’d rather subject himself to the Spanish Inquisition than prolong his time with Liza. “You can hire a tow truck at the garage.”
Liza quailed at the thought of going into Tyler. Now that she was so close, she suddenly wanted to put a lot of distance between herself and her old hometown. Trying to conceal her anxiety, she said, “Can’t you fix my car?”
Forrester got out of the car. “From the sound of that engine, the damage is beyond my skills. You’ll need a real mechanic. I’ll go get the truck and take you to a garage.”
Liza noticed how tight his jaw was. But there were other signs that he wasn’t quite in control of himself. His hand might have shown a tremor when he closed the car door. And the set of his shoulders gave away something Liza couldn’t quite pinpoint.
The man was peculiar, all right. One kiss had clicked an emotional switch in him. One minute he’d let passion overwhelm him. Then he’d looked positively shaken by what had transpired. Now, the prospect of driving her to town seemed to fill him with loathing.
Insulted, Liza said, “Don’t do me any favors, Forrester. I’ll hitchhike to the nearest garage.”
“In that getup?” he said as the color began to return to his face. “The only drivers on the road this morning will be farmers, and none of them will risk picking up a hot number like you.”
“A hot number?” Liza repeated, amused. “Now, that’s a blast from the past. We’re called women today, Forrester.”
“The gossips around town would call you a hot number,” he retorted, turning to grab his fish and leave.
“I don’t know which is worse,” Liza called after him, “showing myself to the gossips of Tyler or spending the next twenty minutes with you.”
“We don’t have to talk,” Forrester said over his shoulder. “You could take a nap instead. Looks like you could use it.”
Liza considered throwing something at him as he walked away, but nothing was handy.
When he was out of sight, she snatched his jacket off the ground and said, “It was just a kiss, for crying out loud. There’s no need to get all bent out of shape!”
Liza wasn’t quite sure why she’d done it. The man had looked like he needed shaking up, that was all. She hadn’t meant to manipulate him with the kiss. Not exactly. Kicking the T-bird’s tires, Liza frowned, wondering for an instant if he was right. Did she like conflict all the time? Had she kissed Cliff Forrester just to stir up trouble? And why did she feel so damned stirred up herself around him? His rumbling voice gave her goose bumps.
Or maybe it was just the cool morning air. Shivering suddenly, Liza put the jacket back on.
He reappeared a few minutes later, materializing like a ghost out of the shadows.
“Damn!” Liza jumped. “Do you have to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Sneak up on a person like that!”
Forrester didn’t answer, but tossed a thick sweater at her. “Here,” he said. “Put this on before you go into shock.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, right. You want me to run you to the hospital so somebody can take a look at that cut on your lip?”
“It’s just a scratch, for heaven’s sake.” She handed him his jacket.
He seemed on the verge of saying something else, but hesitated. A moment later, he shrugged. “Have it your way. The truck’s out back.”
Liza followed him around the lodge, simultaneously pulling on the long sweater and trying to stay on her feet as her narrow heels sank into the soft earth. The sweater reached her midthigh, two inches higher than the hem of her miniskirt, but it was wonderfully warm.
The truck turned out to be the same rusty old pickup Liza remembered from her youth—the vehicle her grandfather had used for hauling yard trimmings away. The idea of getting into it with an unknown quantity like Cliff Forrester made Liza a little nervous, but she decided to brazen it out.
“This old thing is still running?” she asked, yanking open the passenger door.
“I don’t use it much.”
“Oh, you have a car of your own?”
“No, I just don’t drive often.” He got in and slammed his door.
Liza did likewise. “Are you some kind of hermit, Forrester?”
“What’s
