by Diana Palmer
She couldn’t, she thought. She gazed at him across the table and her eyes adored the blurry line of his face. He was almost ugly, despite the self-improvement he’d mentioned, but it wasn’t for his looks that he attracted women. There was a very definite masculinity in his personality, a take-charge attitude that was reassuring and comforting. Added to that was a tenderness she could feel in him, and a compassion that was deep and certain. He had qualities that appealed to everything womanly in her.
She picked at her meal halfheartedly. She had little appetite, and she was all too aware of time passing. She’d have to go home Saturday, back to her familiar world, but it was no longer an eagerly anticipated trip. She didn’t know how she was going to survive leaving Nate.
“I’ve enjoyed being here,” she said absently.
“It must have been a change for you,” he replied.
“Sand is sand, they say,” she murmured and smiled at him. “But there’s such a difference between mine and yours.”
“I suppose so.”
She glanced up, her eyes lingering on the stitched red gash on his forehead, half obscured by his shock of dark hair. “How’s your head?” she asked.
“Hard,” he returned dryly. “I guess that’s what saved me.”
“I’ve never even been in a mine,” she said.
“You haven’t missed much.” He leaned back with his coffee cup in his lean hand, watching her. “What does your Harry look like?” he asked.
He seemed to be pretty curious about Harry. Odd, when he didn’t want a permanent relationship with her anyway. “He’s a little taller than me,” she replied. “Graying. He has a beer belly and he’s sort of red-faced. He isn’t handsome, but he’s nice.”
“I’m not handsome, and I’m not nice to boot.”
She lifted her eyes to his face. “I wouldn’t mind being trapped in a cave-in with you,” she said simply. “Because I know you’d get us out one way or the other. Harry would sit down and give up. He isn’t a fighter.”
“You can do better than Harry,” he said.
“Can I? I put on my best clothes and came out here with my changed image, and you thought I was a hooker,” she reminded him.
“I did not,” he returned, his eyes blazing. “I thought you were a gold digger.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I didn’t know you,” he reminded her. He smiled slowly. “The real you came as quite a shock. I didn’t plan on stopping that afternoon, out on the desert, you know,” he added bluntly. “At that time, I had every intention of seducing you. Then I found out why you were so embarrassed when I looked at you.”
“I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression,” she told him. “I wasn’t trying to tease, even if it did seem that way.”
“Yes, I’ve figured that out,” he murmured, and there was a curious, knowing look on his face. “Are you going to be free tomorrow afternoon?”
The question thrilled her. She should have said “no” and played it safe, but she couldn’t resist him. “Yes,” she replied.
“I thought we might take in a movie in Tucson.” He toyed with his cup. “There’s a murder mystery that I’ve wanted to see.”
He named it and she beamed. It was one she’d been looking forward to herself.
“I’d like that,” she said.
He put down his cup, studying her long and hard. His slate eyes narrowed. “I’m too much a bachelor to offer you marriage,” he said honestly. “And too much a gentleman to seduce you. I suppose we’ll have to be friends, since that’s all we have left.”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” she lied.
“Neither would I. It gets lonely here.” He turned the cup carefully on the table. “An occasional one-night stand doesn’t do a thing for me anymore. I suppose I’m getting old.” He looked up. “What we did together in my bed yesterday was a memory I’ll treasure for the rest of my life.”
“But we hardly did anything, really,” she stammered.
“Didn’t we?” He stood up, towering over her, his gaze long and steady on her uplifted face. She couldn’t know how adoring her eyes were, how warm and caring and soft. They made him feel humble and guilty, all at the same time. He wished he was more of a gambler. If he had been, he’d have taken her away from Harry and married her out of hand and trusted to luck to keep them together. But it would be more of a risk than she realized. She was too unworldly, and her emotions were in a state of flux. He was afraid to take the chance that what she felt might only be infatuation.
“Sleep tight, honey,” he said gently. He touched her hair as he passed her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight,” she called after him.
She finished her meal and went into the recreation room to watch the chess game with the group. She didn’t want to be alone just yet with her thoughts, because they were too painful already.
* * *
The next afternoon, George left her alone while he helped Dr. Adamson with some measurements. She closed her eyes and felt the wind in her face, smelled the clean air with its faint scent of ancient pottery and desert vegetation. It was marvelous, the freedom she felt here, in this vast expanse of land. It seemed endless and wide open. Except for the total lack of trees in most places, it was very enticing. Of course, there were places in Florida where trees were scarce, too. But there was ocean and salt air all around, there.
It didn’t get dark until late, so she wasn’t aware of the passage of time. She sat down on a big boulder to brush sand off the design on a piece of pottery when two sounds impinged on her consciousness. One was the sound of an approaching Jeep, and she smiled to herself, because it had to be Nate coming after her. It touched her that he cared enough to do that, when she could have ridden in with the van.
But the other sound, the one that followed, was enough to chill her blood. She knew so well the noise that a rattlesnake makes. The Eastern diamondback is fairly common in south Georgia and northern Florida. The sound its rattle makes is unforgettable, like sizzling hot grease. This was the same sound, and she was aware that there was a Western diamondback, a counterpart to the snakes she knew.
She knew better than to move. She sat very still, like a statue, and waited for Nate while she prayed that the snake wouldn’t decided to sink its sharp fangs into her leg. Even if they got her to the antivenom in time, she would still be very sick until she recovered from the bite.
Nate would know what to do, thank God. She felt safer just knowing he was nearby. It would be all right.
“Christy?” She heard his deep voice calling her.
Did she dare answer, or would that venomous reptile be irritated by the vibrations of her voice and strike? If she didn’t say something and Nate made much noise when he approached, it might happen anyway. She had nothing to lose, really.
She closed her eyes and bit her lip nervously. “Nate, there’s a rattlesnake!” she called.
There was a rough curse and the sound of running footsteps. Barely a minute later, a lifetime later as she sat stiffly and prayed, the footsteps returned.
“Where is it?” he asked curtly.
“Somewhere near my left,” she said, trying not to move a muscle. “I’m afraid to look.”
“Sit still,” he murmured, moving into her line of view. “Just sit still. You’re doing fine. Managed to find a rattler, did you? I suppose you were camped on the only available shade. That rock you’re sitting on juts out to keep the sun away. Good girl, you’re doing fine, Christy.”
She saw him move, his stride sure and deliberate. He was holding a rifle in the firing position, his eyes open and watchful as he moved slowly around in front of her. He looked like an old-time cowboy, she thought through her terror, with his Stetson pulled low over his eyes, wearing a Western-cut gray jacket and dark slacks. The snake was going to be sorry he’d tackled her now, she told herself. Nate was going to make a hatband out of the sneaky creature.
“Don’t move, now. I see him.”
She cl
amped her teeth together, steeling herself for the report when he fired. She knew without being told that he was a dead shot. It was in his confident aim, in the steely glitter of his eyes as he sighted, in the way he stood and shouldered the rifle.
He fired once and the rattling stopped. Christy jumped up and ran to him, throwing herself into his arms, shivering all over.
The lean arm that wasn’t holding the rifle hauled her closer, bruising in its ferocity. “God Almighty, that was close!” he said harshly. “Didn’t you look before you sat down? Not that it would have mattered, anyway, because what could you see?” he added, his voice cutting. “That’s the last damned straw. You come with me.”
He led her back to the Jeep, ignoring her questions, and put away the rifle. “She’s all right,” he told the others, who were gathered around, concerned. “Just a rattler, but he didn’t strike her. I’ll run her back to the ranch.”
“I’m glad you’re all right, Christy,” George said with relief.
“So am I,” she said, but she didn’t get time to talk. Nate put her in the Jeep, got in beside her, and set new speed records for covering distance.
But he didn’t stop at the ranch house. With his face hard and set, he screeched to a halt in front of her cabin and dragged her out of the Jeep to the door.
“Key,” he said.
She fumbled it out of her pocket and gave it to him, puzzled by his attitude. He hadn’t said one word to her all the way back, and he looked odd.
He unlocked the door, threw it open, and drew her inside. He pushed her gently down into a chair and began to go through drawers, oblivious to her shocked protestations. Minutes later, he found what he was looking for. He turned, with her huge-rimmed glasses in his hand and stuck them none too gently over her eyes.
“Now wear the damned things,” he said shortly, glaring down at her with pure fury. “You little fool, you can’t see five inches in front of you without those, can you? Did you think you could keep it up indefinitely? If you hadn’t had good ears, you’d be in the hospital by now! Those rattlers are deadly.”
“I know that…” she began, aghast at having been found out. Now that she could see him properly, she was a little afraid of him. He looked far more formidable with the lines stark and hard in his lean face. His eyes were much darker than she’d first thought, and there was a hardness, a ruthlessness about his face that intimidated her. If she’d been able to see him properly, like this, that first day, she’d never have had the nerve to even smile at him. He looked what he was—a hard-bitten desert man with no time for idiot tenderfeet.
“No wonder you fell over everything in your path,” he muttered as he looked down at her. “If you don’t want people to see you in specs, why don’t you get contact lenses?”
“I tried,” she confessed wearily, pushing her glasses up on her nose when they began to slip—as usual. “I had one eye infection after another, because I was too haphazard to keep them antiseptically clean, so they said I couldn’t wear them. It’s this or go blind.” She looked at him mutinously. “I changed my whole image to come out here. The glasses spoiled it.”
“What’s wrong with glasses?” he asked carelessly. “I think you look better with them on. They make your eyes look bigger. Much sexier,” he added with a grin.
Her green eyes widened. “Really?” she asked, forgetting her protests. He didn’t think she looked awful!
“Really. Glasses aren’t a cosmetic nuisance in your case, they’re a necessity. Now keep them on. I don’t want to lose you to a rattlesnake. I’m responsible for you.”
That took a little of the pleasure out of his interest. She hesitated, her eyes sweeping over his hard features with quiet pain.
“You don’t believe that bull about glasses making you less desirable?” he persisted.
She shrugged. “Men never noticed me before.”
“I can understand that,” he replied easily. “You’re shy and introverted and you probably dressed to hide your body. Now you’ve put it on display and had your hair done and learned to use makeup. Glasses don’t have anything to do with the qualities that make you desirable, Christy.” He pulled her up against him and stood holding her, with his lean hands smoothing her bare arms in the white sleeveless top with the bulky yellow overblouse that kept her from burning in the sun. “Glasses or no, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”
“You’re only saying that to make me feel better…!”
He caught the words in his mouth and breathed them back into her own. She gave in immediately, too hungry for his touch to fight it now. Her arms reached under his and around him beneath his jacket and she pressed close, delighting in his instant arousal, in the sudden crush of his mouth against hers.
“That’s it,” he bit off. “Kiss me. Open your mouth. Yes. A little more. Don’t hold back,” he murmured roughly as he bent and lifted her. “Harder, baby. Do it harder!”
She felt him put her on the bed, felt his weight as he joined her on its narrow surface. His mouth was doing impossibly arousing things to hers, and his body was hard and urgent as it pushed her into the mattress. She felt the force of his heartbeat against her breasts, inhaled the faint scent of his cologne until she was drunk on it, drunk on him. His mouth was minty and hard and warm, and she never wanted to be free of it. She lifted closer into his embrace, feeling him shudder in response.
But even as she yielded, he lifted his head and muttered a curse.
“My God, it’s impossible,” he said huskily, sitting up as he struggled to catch his breath. His dark eyes swept over her prone body with possession and hunger, lingering on the thrust of her breasts under the low-cut white sleeveless top beneath her yellow overblouse. “We can’t make love here. The damned bed’s too flimsy for two people. It would fall through with us the first time we started moving back and forth on it.”
She blushed scarlet. He smiled down at her with a knowing look in his dark eyes that got worse when her reaction was so transparent.
“Does it bother you to hear such blunt descriptions of lovemaking, Christy?” he asked, leaning over her to nip her lower lip gently with his teeth.
“Do you enjoy embarrassing me?” she demanded.
“Indeed I do. It’s a rare treat to watch a woman blush in this day and time.” He smoothed his hand blatantly over her breast, possessive demand in his touch while he gauged her helpless reaction. “You can’t imagine how it feels, to watch you and know that what you’re feeling is totally new.”
“I guess it makes you feel conceited,” she said defensively, embarrassed by his arrogance.
“No. It makes me feel proud.” He let his eyes fall to where his hand was caressing her. “It means everything to me, being your first lover.”
“But you aren’t…”
His eyes went back up to hers. “I will be.” He held her gaze for one long, endless moment before he slowly got to his feet and helped her up. He held her against him gently, his breath in her hair. “Did you hear me, Christy?” he whispered. “I’m going to be your first man. When it happens, it’s going to be me.”
“I’m marrying Harry,” she whispered miserably.
“I don’t think so.” He drew her closer, sliding his hands to her hips and pulling them gently to his, letting her feel how aroused he was. “No, don’t pull away from me,” he said against her ear. “This reaction is yours alone. You don’t have to be afraid of it. I told you I wouldn’t seduce you and I meant it.”
She relaxed finally and let him hold her. “I’m sorry about the snake,” she murmured. “I know I should have worn my glasses. I could hardly see the boulders, although close up, my vision is very good.”
He smoothed her hair gently in its disheveled bun. “You’ll wear them from now on, do you hear me? I won’t risk you twice. My God, when I saw that snake, I thought your number was up!”
“We both seem to be accident prone,” she said on a forced laugh. “First you get caved in and then I get rattled at.”
“Yes, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” His thin lips tugged into a wicked smile. “I could wash your back.”
She colored delicately. “No, you couldn’t. I don’t take showers with strange men.”
“I let you look at me,” he pointed out.
She glared at him. “Shame on you!”
He shrugged. “All right, be a prude. I’ll have you out of your clothes one of these dark nights and under a sheet with me.”
“I won’t let you,” she replied.
He tilted her chin up and brushed his mouth tenderly over hers. “Yes, you will. Have your bath. I’ll be back in thirty minutes to get you.” He searched her wide, soft eyes. “Harry can’t make you pregnant. I can. If you loved him, that wouldn’t matter. But if you don’t love him, you might give that point some thought before you make up your mind.”
She stiffened. “There’s nothing to decide. He wants to marry me.”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said somberly. “He wouldn’t enjoy raising my son as much as I would. Get your clothes changed, honey, I want to get an early start. We’ll eat in town.”
“Nate!” she said, exasperated.
But he left her there, trying to make sense of what he’d said. She finally gave up and got into the shower, still completely in the dark. He didn’t want to marry her and here he was talking about his son. Sexist, she thought, how did he know it wouldn’t be a daughter?
Which was beside the point, because she wasn’t making any children with him when she was going to marry Harry!
Chapter Seven
Christy didn’t have a large selection of dresses with her, and she’d already worn two of them. The third, and last, was a soft pink synthetic with a full skirt and button-up bodice, a large collar and cap sleeves. It suited her coloring beautifully, and emphasized her delicate complexion. She wore a scarf with complimenting colors and left her hair long. She glared at the glasses, but she put them back on. If Nate thought she looked all right, she supposed that was all that mattered.