A Handful of Heaven

37

Damn.

No.

She was letting him kiss her!

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41

He backhanded the moisture from his lips. "You bitch," he snarled.

"Perhaps," she snapped back. "But I'm not a whore, Mr. MacKenna, and the next time you kiss me, you'd better protect your ..." Her gaze lowered pointedly, "privates. A knee can be a powerful weapon."

"Lady, if there's one thing you're in no danger of touching, it's my privates."

She smiled grimly."And here I was thinking I had nothing to be thankful for."

Green-tinged light emanated from the battered tin lantern, creating a strange, unearthly pall in the tomblike tent. The Yukon stove sputtered and hissed, its metal top clattering at the fire's bright orange onslaught.

Devon was ready to scream. The only human sound in the, tent was the ceaseless staccato of her tapping toe on the planks beneath her feet. It drummed in her ears. She and Stone Man | had been sitting not more than five feet apart for three hours. In all that time not one word had passed between them. Not j a syllable.

Right now, she decided, even a grunt would be a relief.

In all her twenty-nine years she couldn't remember ever! feeling so edgy. He was making her crazy. She'd always hated J hostile silences. They reminded her of her father.

As a child she'd had no choice about how she lived. But| she was an adult now, and things were different-she made j the rules that governed her life. She refused, positively re-1 fused, to live like enemies for ten months. She'd spent her j whole childhood walking on eggshells around her father's! sullen silences and terrorizing tempers. She'd be darned if | she'd do that again.

Her foot stilled. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her head j and leveled a heavy stare on her partner."What's wrong with] talking?" she demanded.

He didn't even look up from the book he was reading.

She shot to her feet and started pacing. It was a struggle not to wring her hands together. Maybe a less shrewish approach would work."Shall we play cards? Whist, perhaps?"

Nothing.

She tried again. "How about a cup of tea?"

Less than nothing. She yanked hard on the reins of her temper. She wouldn't let him goad her into a tantrum. Forcing her lips into some semblance of a smile, she remarked, "Is that Treasure Island you're reading? I must say, I wouldn't have expected a ... man such as yourself to be-"

He slammed the book shut. "Shut up."

She smiled triumphantly. It might not be much, but it was better than that horrible silence. "I will not."

He flipped the book open again and pinned his gaze to the volume's water-warped pages. "Talk all you want, lady. From now on, I'm deaf as a post to your caterwauling."

Caterwauling! Her hands curled into white-knuckled fists. Oooh! He had a lot of nerve, slandering her conversational skills. Him! A big, dirty, disgusting specimen of a man who-

She gathered her wits about her. There was no sense in plunging to his Neanderthal level. Nice, intelligent people could argue without shouting, and she was certainly intelligent. "We are humans, Mr. MacKenna, and humans talk. That's the distinction between us and the animals." Her chin popped to a self-righteous angle, and she peered down at him from her loftier position. "Of course, with some of us, the line blurs."

The barb was delivered so calmly it took Stone Man a moment to realize he'd been insulted. When it sunk in he surged to his feet. "Who the hell are you to find fault with me? I am what I am. If you don't like it, get the hell out. No one invited you here."

Her lips tilted upward in the barest glimmer of a smile. "Not true. You invited me here."

His face turned purple. A small blue vein throbbed at his temple. "Quit goddamn reminding me."

A small sigh escaped her lips. There was no victory in baiting him. It was like taking candy from a baby. The only victory lay in remedying their animosity. Somehow she had to get him to observe the most basic social amenities. Otherwise ... she shuddered at the thought of "otherwise."