"Frankie," she interrupted, throwing him another teasing grin.
"Frankie," he acknowledged, that sexy groove making another appearance in his cheek. "My point is that anything I would recommend would take decades, maybe even a century to get what you want. Reforestation, and especially rewilding, doesn't happen overnight. Not to mention, you would need a significant and consistent level of support from the government. That is an absolute requirement."
"I know that, John." Frankie leaned forward to emphasize her point. "And before you recommend it, we have already contacted experts throughout Great Britain, and no one has created a strategy that works for more than a year or two. I think your perspective and family’s historical experience could make all the difference."
John grunted. His scowling expression told her he was far from being convinced. "England, huh?" She kept quiet as he held her gaze for a charged moment. "I'd think the Pacific Northwest would be more similar to the British climate. You should find someone there to help you. I'd guess there are numerous experts in either Seattle or Portland," he said.
"The climate is comparable to Britain and those regions have been salvaged from over-logging. But they haven't dealt with recovery from complete environmental disaster the way this area has." She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, her chin automatically lifting. "I'm sorry, Mr. Robbins, but ithas to be you. No one else has the background. We need your expertise."
John released a disgruntled huff as his mouth flattened into a line, his previously light mood gone. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping across the wood flooring, making Frankie and Angus jump. The dog's soft woof was a gentle admonishment.
"I need to take Angus out." John patted his leg. "Come on, boy." The dog slowly rose to his feet and padded quietly across the room, then followed his owner out the door.
Frankie exhaled sharply and glared at the closed door. She had assumed she'd meet some resistance, if anything her grandmother had written in her journal about the Robbins family was true. But the reality of John immediately digging in his heels was more difficult to process than anything she had imagined.
Think! Find a way to convince him.
She rolled her eyes as Sharon’s voice immediately played through her mind.I knowexactlyhow you can get his cooperation…Sharon's suggestions were usually on the lurid side.
Frankie’s lips twisted to the side. Sleeping with John was not an option—which was a real shame. Men that dreamy and masculine didn't come along every day. But a girl could dream, right?
It helps that we’re stuck in an isolated cabin together while a winter storm rages outside, making the roads impassable. It was like the premise of a sexy drugstore romance novel.
Frankie grimaced, a wry smile replacing the frown, and ruefully shook her head. Sharon's influence was still as strong four thousand miles and an ocean away.
Okay. Enough of that. Get your mind out of the gutter.
Sex was out of the question so maybe it was time she brought out her secret weapon. The one that started her on this adventure.
***
John watched from the porch as Angus moved around the tree line, impervious to the icy snow that was beginning to layer on every surface, stopping to sniff a rock, peeing at least four times. When the dog's bladder was finally empty, he motored slowly up the stairs and leaned against John’s leg.
John rubbed his wet ears. "You're a good boy, Angus."
As much as he usually grumbled about the amount of time it took Angus to do his business, John had desperately needed a break from the gorgeous and confounding woman currently occupying his cabin. He pulled in a long, bracing breath and released it slowly, feeling his body cool off. It took a lot of self-restraint to appear nonchalant around her, as if she wasn't the most stunningly beautiful woman he'd ever met.
He huffed out an ironic laugh. When he'd spotted her car wedged between two trees, he’d had every intention of making sure that she was fine and then reading her the riot act for her recklessness. He'd expected injuries, whining, and high maintenance requests. His annoyance had been riding high. The woman was just one more person he had to help because they didn't have enough sense to stay home in weather like this and not enough respect for this forest and mother nature in general. If he were honest, his irritation had more to do with him having to leave his warm home, chili, and glass of whiskey to go on a wild goose chase.
And then he’d met his wild goose.
When he'd opened that driver's door and she'd turned those gorgeous hazel green eyes up at him, with deep emotion andrelief welling in her gaze, a part of him sparked to life—a part that had been buried beneath layers of scar tissue, heartache, and self-imposed isolation from the female of the species. In an instant, that unwavering resolve had melted when she'd burrowed her head into his chest, her innocent movement shooting straight to his heart.
He sighed, remembering the way his arms tightened around her as if he never wanted to let her go. It took everything he had not to run his hands over every part of her body searching for injuries, thread his fingers through those wavy, soft brown locks, and to rumble that she was safe, that he'd never allow anything to hurt her ever again. Thank god she had been so disoriented that she hadn't noticed his response.
John stared up at the dark sky, watching the snowflakes swirling in the wind on their descent as if he were in the middle of an otherworldly snow globe. He'd always loved the first snow of the year, when it was all so fresh and clean. It hadn't stuck around for months on end, turning gray with collected debris, or hardening into a glacier. Right now, it was still magical and beautiful, and there was more forecasted before the storm moved on.
What had previously been termed a brief early season winter storm, was now predicted to last through the night at the very least with an estimated six to eight inches of snow over the next twenty-four hours. The temperature had dropped faster than expected and the storm had slowed dramatically, increasing the snowfall amount.
As winter storms went, it wasn't bad for this area, but it wasn't something you wanted to drive around in. The timing couldn't be worse, although John wasn't sure if he was referring to the storm or to the intoxicating woman currently occupying his cabin. Probably both if he was honest with himself becauseit looked like they were stuck together for at least another day, maybe two until the roads were cleared.
John bit back a groan at the thought. She was heart-stoppingly lovely, smart, and shared his passion for the forest. In other words, tailormade to shatter his resolve and unleash his baser instincts.
Complicating things even further, there was the matter of her request for help. Her group's mission was a noble one in his opinion, but there were many factors at play that could affect the outcomes of reforestation efforts, and to make a strategy blindly was difficult and irresponsible. Without the proper training and guidance, his recommendations would be a halfhearted effort at best.
No, the only way he could truly help them was to travel to the UK to see the grounds himself, and that he would never do.
A weight dropped on his foot and John looked down with a smile at Angus, who rested his head on John's boot, telling him without words that he was ready to go back in where his bed lay cozy by the fire.
