her mouth, and sighed with pleasure. “You’re amazing.”
“I thought I was a brute and a bully,” he suggested, handing her a cup of hot tea.
“You are, but you’re also a culinary genius.”
“Enjoy it,” he said. “I think the local fish and game department forgot to restock the ponds, out here. These may have been the last of a tribe of very lonely fish. The other bad news is that I had to use the next to last match to get this fire going.”
“Okay,” she said, licking the last of the delicious grease from her fingers, “tomorrow, we’ll both try our luck fishing. I’ll eat the damned things raw, if I have to.”
He smiled, and pushed the last scraps of burned fish onto her plate.
She shook her head. “That’s not fair. You’ve hardly eaten anything.”
“I had a big lunch,” he said. “At the office.”
* * * * *
When Anne went to bed that night, she waited until Cameron was asleep before she began inching steadily closer to him. When she was as close as she could get without waking him, she inched a bit further, and then settled in for the night, with her head tucked under his arm. Just before she fell sleep, it suddenly occurred to her that she might be— for the very first time in her life—about to fall in love.
“Just my luck,” she muttered drowsily. “Of all the men in the damned world, I had to fall for Dudley DoRight.” She yawned. “It’s got to be that damned red uniform.” She didn't even want to think about the bulge.
CHAPTER FOUR
Anne awoke the next morning feeling oddly happy, and even cheerful. She knew why, but was still reluctant to admit to herself that it was her changed feeling for Geoffrey Cameron that was making her happy. She’d had similar feelings about a man before, and ended up regretting both the feelings and the man. Besides, it was fairly obvious that this particular man would be more than happy to never see her again. Anne sighed. The truth was that she sometimes had that effect on men. One of them had even called her a feminazi— right to her face. Of course, this was the same guy who couldn’t get through an hour’s discussion about women’s issues without using the word “boobs” at least a half-dozen times. The same guy who explained his theory to her—at tiresome length—that women shouldn’t get paid the same as men, because they had periods every month, and because they could always get knocked up on purpose just to collect unemployment.
“Face it, Annie ,” she thought. “ This is going to end up like all the other ones. You scare the shit out of the nice guys, and the domineering jerks see you as a challenge. Every man you’ve ever been with has been too wimpy, or too controlling. You’re a thirty-four year old spinster with a chip on your shoulder, no romantic prospects, and you’re developing crows’ feet. You’ve been plucking out gray hairs for two years, now. Time to learn how to crochet, and get a couple of cats.”
The inside of the plane was freezing, and Geoff (she had begun to think of him as Geoff, now, and not Sergeant Cameron) was in the front, apparently napping, so she allowed herself a little more time in the warm bed, and spent most of it wallowing in self-pity. Finally, weary of thinking about her future, she crawled out of her sleeping bag, stretched, and prepared to face her present— as unpromising as it seemed to be.
When she reached for the door handle, though, Cameron reached across the seat and took her wrist. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” she asked. “ Here we go again,” she thought. “ My lord and master, telling me I can’t go to the damned bathroom without an armed escort.”
“We have company,” he said.
Anne glanced out the cracked windshield, but saw no one. “They found us!” she yelped, looking again. “So, where are they?”
He pointed toward the campsite, and Anne stared—not at the rescue team she was hoping to see, but at an enormous brown bear and
“I thought I was a brute and a bully,” he suggested, handing her a cup of hot tea.
“You are, but you’re also a culinary genius.”
“Enjoy it,” he said. “I think the local fish and game department forgot to restock the ponds, out here. These may have been the last of a tribe of very lonely fish. The other bad news is that I had to use the next to last match to get this fire going.”
“Okay,” she said, licking the last of the delicious grease from her fingers, “tomorrow, we’ll both try our luck fishing. I’ll eat the damned things raw, if I have to.”
He smiled, and pushed the last scraps of burned fish onto her plate.
She shook her head. “That’s not fair. You’ve hardly eaten anything.”
“I had a big lunch,” he said. “At the office.”
* * * * *
When Anne went to bed that night, she waited until Cameron was asleep before she began inching steadily closer to him. When she was as close as she could get without waking him, she inched a bit further, and then settled in for the night, with her head tucked under his arm. Just before she fell sleep, it suddenly occurred to her that she might be— for the very first time in her life—about to fall in love.
“Just my luck,” she muttered drowsily. “Of all the men in the damned world, I had to fall for Dudley DoRight.” She yawned. “It’s got to be that damned red uniform.” She didn't even want to think about the bulge.
CHAPTER FOUR
Anne awoke the next morning feeling oddly happy, and even cheerful. She knew why, but was still reluctant to admit to herself that it was her changed feeling for Geoffrey Cameron that was making her happy. She’d had similar feelings about a man before, and ended up regretting both the feelings and the man. Besides, it was fairly obvious that this particular man would be more than happy to never see her again. Anne sighed. The truth was that she sometimes had that effect on men. One of them had even called her a feminazi— right to her face. Of course, this was the same guy who couldn’t get through an hour’s discussion about women’s issues without using the word “boobs” at least a half-dozen times. The same guy who explained his theory to her—at tiresome length—that women shouldn’t get paid the same as men, because they had periods every month, and because they could always get knocked up on purpose just to collect unemployment.
“Face it, Annie ,” she thought. “ This is going to end up like all the other ones. You scare the shit out of the nice guys, and the domineering jerks see you as a challenge. Every man you’ve ever been with has been too wimpy, or too controlling. You’re a thirty-four year old spinster with a chip on your shoulder, no romantic prospects, and you’re developing crows’ feet. You’ve been plucking out gray hairs for two years, now. Time to learn how to crochet, and get a couple of cats.”
The inside of the plane was freezing, and Geoff (she had begun to think of him as Geoff, now, and not Sergeant Cameron) was in the front, apparently napping, so she allowed herself a little more time in the warm bed, and spent most of it wallowing in self-pity. Finally, weary of thinking about her future, she crawled out of her sleeping bag, stretched, and prepared to face her present— as unpromising as it seemed to be.
When she reached for the door handle, though, Cameron reached across the seat and took her wrist. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” she asked. “ Here we go again,” she thought. “ My lord and master, telling me I can’t go to the damned bathroom without an armed escort.”
“We have company,” he said.
Anne glanced out the cracked windshield, but saw no one. “They found us!” she yelped, looking again. “So, where are they?”
He pointed toward the campsite, and Anne stared—not at the rescue team she was hoping to see, but at an enormous brown bear and
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