Time and Again

Then he found that it was much more convenient, and much more satisfying, to curse her. She'd started it, after all. He'd known, right from the start, that she would make trouble for him.
    There were some people in this world-in any world, he thought bitterly-who were just born to complicate other people's lives. Sunbeam Stone was one of them. In her looks, in her voice, in her gestures, in her personality, she had everything a woman needed to distract a man. To aggravate him to the edge of reason. And beyond.
    She challenged him at every meeting. Those cool smiles, that hot temper. It was a combination he couldn't resist. And he was sure she knew it.
    When he'd kissed her-and God knew he hadn't meant to-it had been like being shot into hyperspace without a ship. How could he have known that damn sulky mouth of hers would be so potent?
    He'd never been attracted to passive women. But what difference did that make? He had no intention of being attracted to Sunny. He couldn't be. He damn well wouldn't be, no matter what tricks she pulled out of her twentieth-century hat.
    What had happened was completely her fault, he decided. She'd taunted and tempted him. She'd wanted to confuse him. Gritting his teeth, he admitted that she'd done a brilliant job of it. After she had and he'd reacted as any normal man would, she'd looked at him with those big, gorgeous eyes full of panic and passion. Oh, she was a case, all right. His study of the twentieth century should have warned him that women had been much more bewildering back then. And craftier.
    Hands in pockets, he paced to the window to watch the swirling snow. Oh, she was a bright one, he mused. Sharp as Venusian crystal, and twice as deadly. She knew something wasn't quite right about his story, and she was determined to find out just what he was holding back. And he was just as determined to keep her in the dark.
    In a battle of wits, he had every confidence his would prevail. How much effort would it take to outwit a twentieth-century woman? After all, he was more than two hundred years ahead of her on the evolutionary scale. It was a pity she was so intriguing. And so primitively attractive. But he was a scientist, and he had already calculated that any kind of involvement with her would shoot his equations to hell.
    Still, she was right about one thing, he decided. They were stuck with each other. The whole damn mountain was practically empty but for the two of them. The way the snow was falling, it was painfully obvious that they would be in each other's way for days. However irritating it might be, for the time being, he needed her.
    He had to get around her, or through her, to get to his brother. Whatever it took, he would get to Cal.
    Turning, he made a long, slow study of the kitchen. The first thing to be faced was that the cabin was too small for them to avoid each other. He could go back to his ship, but he preferred being here, recording firsthand observations. It would be easier to fight whatever attraction Cal felt for this time and place if he understood it. And his innate curiosity would never be satisfied on the ship.
    So he would stay. And if that made the pretty Sunbeam uncomfortable, so much the better.
    His own discomfort-and the kiss had caused him plenty-would just have to be dealt with. He was, after all, superior.
    Feeling more calm, he went back to the table to reassemble the toaster.
    As he worked, he could hear the ceiling creak and groan above his head. He smiled to himself when he realized that she was pacing on the second floor. He bothered her. And that was just fine. Maybe she would keep her distance-or at least stop daring him to do something they would both regret.
    It was illogical to desire someone he didn't even like. To fantasize about someone he could barely tolerate. To ache for someone who annoyed him so consistently.
    When the screwdriver slipped and mashed his thumb, he cursed her again.
    He wasn't going to get away with it. She paced from wall to wall, from window to door, trying to work off steam. The nerve of the man, to grab her as if she were some mindless bimbo, then reject her just as callously. Did he think, did he really think, he could vent his- his sexual frustrations on her without compunction?
    She had news for him.
    No one, absolutely no one, treated her in that manner and lived to tell the tale. She'd been taking care of herself for too long. Men might pressure. She pushed them aside. They might seduce. She