He pulled her closer and pointed out a section of beautifully colored stone canyon walls. He watched her eyes light up, and she reached for her camera.
Seeing the joy and animation on her face as she took dozens of photographs in quick succession made him wonder what she saw when she looked through that lens.
“You really love photography, don’t you?”
“I do. I got quite a few snapshots of the flowers in the salon this morning. I tend to stick to landscape pictures. I don’t like having my picture taken. If people show up in my shots, I Photoshop them out. I’m sure your picture gets taken often.”
“I wouldn’t say any more than anyone else in my position, but it’s taken plenty of times that’s for sure. I can take a picture without cutting off people’s heads, but I prefer to let others do it. I don’t understand apertures, foci, lens, and whatever else professional photographers rave about. My talents lie elsewhere. I love to draw.” He indicated the camera. “Are you going to print them all?”
“Definitely not.” She set the camera aside and sat down beside him again. “I’ll download them and pick the best. I’ll edit them; I may even combine a few, and when I have the pictures the way I like them, I’ll print them.”
“Have you considered making it your primary source of income? You could become a photojournalist. I’ve seen lots of coffee table books in my travels. People love to look at pictures of foreign and exotic locations, plants, and animals.”
“That would be another bucket list item.” She chuckled. “Maybe someday, but for now, landscape photography is just a hobby I indulge in when I can. I don’t have the money or the time to travel extensively, and even if I could, I have other responsibilities. Looking through the lens of the camera is my escape, but if I did it every day it might lose its magic, and that would make me sad.” He saw regret on her face. What was she doing that no longer brought her pleasure?
“Tell me about your dad. You mentioned he likes classic cars and baseball and he used to travel. What else does he do?”
Cleo stared at the mesa below them, and he wondered if she were going to answer.
“Dad’s retired. He does a lot of fishing in the summer. He likes classic cars, classic books, collects pottery, enjoys sports—all sports but primarily hockey and football. He cheers for Calgary all the way. He puts together models of antique cars—he has a room full of them at home.”
“I follow hockey, but Canadian football confuses me—it’s that missing down.” He kissed the top of her head. “I got the impression last night that your dad can’t be easy to live with. I know you still live at home—not that there’s anything wrong with that—but is it your choice or his?” He’d purposely repeated the words she’d used when she’d asked about his “career.” He hoped someday they could laugh about it. Had he really said he’d worked his ass off? No wonder she hadn’t commented. Even he’d be speechless if someone in that line of work used the expression.
“My choice—mostly economics before Mom died. When I first started work, I only made twenty-eight grand a year. My fiancé and I worked in different cities and we were saving for a house. Living at home made sense. I’m doing better now and could afford my own place, but Dad needs me. I’m all he has.” He heard the love she had for her father in her voice. “Dad’s not a young man. He’s a little protective, but he wants what’s best for me. Mom was everything to him. They’d look at one another and you just knew how much they cared for each other. Losing Mom changed him. He’s lost interest in everything he loved; he’s not living, he’s existing, and I don’t know how to help him. We both need to move on and get on with our lives, but …”
He saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. The relationship her parents had was light years away from the fighting and arguing he remembered at home. “You said your dad helped you through the dark time. Was that when your engagement ended?”
“Yes. I took it hard. I thought we were soul mates. Was I wrong! He’s on his third or maybe it’s his fourth wife now.” She giggled. “The alimony must be killing him. Has there been anyone who almost became Mrs. Mason?”
Sam bristled. He looked at Cleo to see if there was any guise in her question. It had sounded innocent enough. Why am I making a big deal of this? I asked her about past relationships.
“There have been a few who’ve tried, but only one I considered taking to the altar. Our families had been friends for years. I really thought we were in love, but I guess, from what you’ve said, there was probably more than a little of your ex’s attitude in her. She’d seemed like the perfect wife—we moved in similar circles, she knew what people wanted. She had the contacts, and I had the ambition. I wanted to design mid-income houses for families. She wanted me to focus on the more lucrative designs. When push came to shove, she admitted having aspirations that were substantially different from mine. She wanted money and power more than creating a future with me.” He fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Since then, like you, I’ve stayed away from serious relationships. As the saying goes: once bitten, twice shy.”
She didn’t say a word, but stared out the window nestled against him. He'd be content to stay that way all day. The cabin phone rang. He reached over and answered it.
“Yeah, Matt . . . Okay.” He hung up and turned to her.
“We’ll be landing in about five minutes. Our Hualapai guide, Walter, will meet us at the airport and take us to the bridge.”
Chapter Eleven
Sam stood to put their glasses aside, and Cleo reached for the red bag she’d brought with her. She rooted through it, pulled out a tube of sunscreen, and handed it to him. “Would you mind helping me reapply? You have to really rub it in; otherwise, it’ll stay white, and I’ll look like Casper.” She giggled nervously.
“I don’t think rubbing your shoulders will be a hardship for me.” He swallowed. Maybe that wasn’t the right word to use.
He took the tube out of her hand and squeezed some of the thick, white cream into his palm, and rubbed his hands together to spread the cream evenly.
“Lift up your braid.”
She complied, her hand trembling slightly. He put one hand on each of her shoulders. Her skin felt warm beneath his palms, and she quivered slightly. He rubbed the cream in circles, and felt himself hardening. He thought of rubbing the rest of her body later and smothered a groan.
He eased his hands over each shoulder and across her exposed back, and realized that Cleo not only blushed when she was embarrassed, her skin turned pink when she was aroused. From this angle, he could see her taut nipples jutting out. Unless you looked down on them, they’d be lost in the pattern of her top. He moved his hands to caress the skin above the front of her top as he had the back. The cream melted into her skin, and she moaned softly. He swallowed, aware of his own need as well as the fact Matt could open the cabin door at any moment.
“That should do for now.” His voice was husky, filled with desire. He was hard as a rock again. God, he hoped no one noticed.
• • •
Sam lifted Cleo down from the cabin and bent his head to kiss her. This kiss was gentle, and she responded quickly, barely able to maintain a semblance of control. He pulled away, the look on his face showing he regretted the fact as much as she did.
“Keep my place. I haven’t finished yet, but we have an audience,” he whispered.
Mortified, she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Sam laughed heartily. “It’s only Matt and Walter.”
He pointed behind her. Cleo turned to follow him and looked up at more than two hundred and fifty pounds of Hualapai muscle.
“Walter, meet Cleo Jones.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Nice to see you again, Sam, Matt.” He nodded to each in turn. “Glad you were able to finally come visit our little engineering marvel.”
Walter led them over to a Jeep. “Sorry about the change in vehicle. The SUV blew a tire yesterday. Will this be okay?”
The man looked at Sam as if his
opinion was the most important thing in the world. Sam looked at her, his eyebrow raised questioningly, clearly indicating this was her judgment call, not his. She liked that. It showed he was trying to include her in the decision making unlike the way he’d set up every aspect of the day so far, but she couldn’t complain. She was having a wonderful time.
She grinned and stepped over to the vehicle for a closer look. “This is fine. I’ll take a Jeep over an SUV anytime, especially on a beautiful day like this.”
Sam got in the back seat with her while Matt sat in front with Walter. The ride from the airport to the Skywalk was a short one. The place was packed, and there appeared to be a long waiting line. She hoped they’d be able to stay long enough to take their turn. Sam had them on a tight schedule.
“Follow me.” Walter led them around the back of the facility to a door marked Employees Only. “I’ve arranged for VIP tickets as you requested. I’ll get your shoe covers.”
Walter opened the door, allowing them to step inside the air-conditioned building. Cleo looked out the window at the long line of people standing in the heat and frowned.
“We should wait our turn like everyone else. I don’t feel right skipping ahead of those people. Some of them must have been waiting a long time.”
“Don’t think of it as skipping ahead; we’ve got a reservation. We’re paying a premium to walk on the bridge at a specific time. The next time we come, you can wait in line as long as you like.” Sam chuckled. “Although you’d need a lot more sunscreen.”
She turned away and pursed her lips. That comment reminded her of Dave’s attitude. It was condescending and smug. He’d said last night that he usually took what he wanted, and this was definitely another example of that. His “we get better treatment because we have more money” attitude didn’t sit well with her. She had a good mind to refuse to go out and instead get in line, but what purpose would it serve? He’d just get annoyed with her, and it would ruin their day. In the end, no one would win.
“Hey,” he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I sounded like a jerk. Forgive me?” He leaned his forehead against hers.
Was he really sorry, or was he just being patronizing because he knew she wasn’t pleased?
She nodded. “Okay, but don’t do it again. I don’t like being noticed, and this VIP treatment will get us noticed.”
“You’d stand out from the crowd no matter what, but no more special treatment today.” He kissed the tip of her nose. He turned her around again, this time to look at the crowd in line. Two people were handing out bottles of water to those waiting.
“See? I’m making it up to them. I try to do the right thing, when I can. No more skipping ahead after this, I promise.”
Cleo smiled, hoping her confusion and disappointment didn’t show. The water was a nice gesture, but it didn’t change the fact he was probably only doing it to placate her. This was the fourth time he’d made a comment that implied they’d have some sort of future together. Surely he must realize that anything between them couldn’t last? They came from different worlds—it was just the magic of the moment. When Monday came, everything would disappear, and reality would rear its head.
She’d fly back to Carson City, and then drive home to Gordon’s Grove to await the final verdict on her transfer. If she could somehow convince Dad to start living again, she’d help him pack for a few weeks of digging in the Yucatan or some Central American country, and then she’d do what she did each summer: catch up on her reading, take an online mini-course, and clean house. Sam would go back to doing whatever he’d planned to do this weekend, and take his place on stage in September. He’d be a Chippendale entertainer/architect amusing the ladies and making the world a more beautiful place. She’d never go back to the Rio. She couldn’t watch him perform. He was more than eye-candy to her—exactly what, she wasn’t sure, but she knew could never share him with a roomful of women that way. He was all hers for today, and in her memories, he’d stay that way.
Walter came back and handed them shoe covers similar to the ones worn by surgeons in the OR.
“These will keep you from slipping on the glass or scratching the surface.” He opened a locker. “All your personal items like cameras and cell phones, and your hat and purse, Ms. Jones, must go in here. We can’t risk anything falling into the canyon or damaging the glass. There’s a photographer who’ll take pictures of you while you’re out there.”
Cleo handed Sam her loose items, and he placed them in the locker. He gave the key to Walter, who handed it to the locker clerk. After they donned their shoe covers, he led them through doors onto the Skywalk.
The incredible vista took her breath away.
“My people are very proud of this feat of engineering,” Walter said. “The Skywalk opened in 2007. It’s sixty-five feet long and extends seventy feet from the canyon wall. The deck is made of five layers of glass, while the walls are two layers thick. Although the structure is strong enough to support eight hundred and twenty-two people, we only allow one hundred and twenty on at a time.”
“I don’t know what to say. It’s as if we’re standing in space, hovering between heaven and earth,” Cleo said as reached for Sam’s hand, and he offered it willingly.
“Are you scared?”
“No, not scared,” she assured him. “I’m awed, breathless. I can’t imagine a more wonderful feeling. How did they build this?”
“Wait until later, and I’ll see what I can do about leaving you breathless,” Sam whispered. Then he added for everyone to hear, “As to the Skywalk, my firm helped a little, but Walter can explain it best.”
She noted the touch of pride when he’d said my firm. If he were so proud of his architectural accomplishments, why in the world did he waste his time entertaining women for a living? It made no sense.
Sure it does. It’s no different than my photography, Dad’s digs, or Mitch’s Internet business. It’s the thrill of doing something different, something you enjoy. Everyone needs a hobby, and no one hobby is better than the next. Her memory echoed Mitch’s words from last month, but her heart didn’t believe them.
She turned her attention from Sam to Walter, who had continued his tour guide spiel.
“ … it was assembled in sections over there on the top of the ridge, and then we used a jack and roll rig to put it into place. It all weighs about a million pounds. It took two days to attach it to the canyon wall. All the glass was made in Germany. A lot of people worked together to make this a successful, viable project, including the CEO at LJS Enterprises. He donated man hours and expertise to the tribe. He’s very highly thought of here.”
“Is that why we got special treatment?”
Walter laughed. “He’s also my boss, and when the boss asks you for a favor, you don’t argue.”
He winked at Sam, who laughed too, and Cleo felt she’d missed the punch line.
“He’s taking me to Wales to work on a castle,” Walter continued. “I’m really looking forward to that.”
“Shall we?” Sam indicated the walkway.
Cleo looked from one man to the other. It was as if Sam didn’t want Walter to say anything else. Their boss must a really good employer, but obviously, when he said, “jump” the employees did just that. She still felt as if she were missing something. She sighed.
I’m trying to read between the lines again, and the page is blank. I need to stop looking for ulterior motives.
“Are you going to Wales, too?” she asked Sam as they made their exit. She shouldn’t be so nosy, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to know all she could about Sam’s respectable side, although she was well aware it was only part of what attracted her to him. Weren’t girls always attracted to bad boys?
“I am. I’m working on the interior renovations. I leave Friday. I’ll be gone six weeks.”
“Good thing you have the summer off. It would be awkward otherwise, wouldn’t it?” Walter and M
att looked at her strangely, as if she’d sprouted another head. “So, you said you’ve never been here before. How could you resist?”
“My sisters Liz and Jane were here for the grand opening.” He seemed relieved that she’d changed the subject. “All Liz could talk about was having her picture taken with Buzz Aldrin. She’s a bit of a space nut, and this convention is right up her alley. She brought a few of the whales with her, too.”
“I know what casino whales are, but I don’t know why they call them that.”
Sam laughed. She loved the sound of his laughter. It always sounded real, never forced.
“Because, like whales, everything they do is big. They bet big, win big, but lose big, too. People follow them, and that’s where the casinos win. Every person who comes in to watch a whale play drops some of their own money at the tables or on the slots. So casinos compete for high rollers by offering freebies and other incentives. That used to be Liz’s job, but she got promoted to conventions. A few of her whales, like Lord Horvath, stayed with her. I believe the guy comes more to see her than to gamble. I think she likes him more than she’s letting on, but what woman wouldn’t like to be showered in riches?”
“I wouldn’t.” Cleo answered probably a little more forcefully than necessary. “I’ve never been rich, but I’ve managed with what I had. I don’t think I could take advantage of someone’s generosity like that,” Cleo said. “I’m only letting you pay for all this because you insisted. I did offer to cover some of the expenses. Sorry, I’ll get down off the soapbox now.”
“You’re a rare gem, Cleopatra Jones.”
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