Valley of Fire

by Janelle Taylor

  At last he brought his Harley-Davidson to a stop, within inches of the front bumper of the Cadillac. Unsuppressed fury and rapid breathing caused his nostrils to flare and his well-muscled body to stiffen. Steven angrily gritted his teeth as he jumped off of his motorcycle to challenge some idiot to a battle which might knock some sense into his stupid, reckless head. A booted foot kicked the park stand down so forcefully that he almost overturned his huge machine. Ocean blue eyes were stormy and threatening as Steven swaggered towards the open door, fists clenched tightly.

  Steven assumed this predicament was some childish prank or an ignorant action since the car had obviously not been wrecked or parked on the almost nonexistent shoulder of the highway. He leaned his towering six-feet-four-inch frame over to peer inside the car. The irate man’s sole intent was to verbally, or possibly physically, attack its hare-brained occupant. Observing the eye-catching figure of what Steven considered to be a youthful female slumped over on the front seat, he cautioned himself to bring his volatile temper under some civil measure of control until he could analyze this puzzling situation which could have left him crippled.

  “Miss? Are you sick?” his deep, resonant voice inquired. When there was no answer or movement, Steven lightly shook Brandy’s left shoulder and called out to her again. Still no reaction.

  Steven walked around the car and approached the front seat from the right side. When the woman made no attempt to respond, he leaned forward and pulled her limp body out of the steaming vehicle. He gently laid her upon the loose dirt beside the road, knowing the pavement was still full of heat from the day’s sunning.

  When Steven pushed wet amber hair from Brandy’s flushed face and viewed it for the first time, he unknowingly stared into her arresting features which were stunningly surrounded by clingy curls the shade of aged brandy. A pleased gaze appreciatively scanned unblemished, golden skin. Long, lush lashes fanned out on her moist cheeks. She had a pert nose which was neither too small nor too large. Steven lifted one lid to peer into a forest green eye with flecks of yellow, enchanting eyes which reminded him of an exotic jungle cat. For a man who was finding himself too bored and restless these days, this unexpected predicament stimulated his senses. If it was thrills or challenges he needed to enliven and tantalize him, this adventure certainly presented them.

  The intrigued man gave free rein to his perceptive mind. Even though this enticing creature was darkly tanned to a golden honey shade, he could easily make out the rosy flush upon her exquisite cheekbones. Her mouth was wide and full with a heart like dip. Laughing sapphire eyes noted delicate creases around her mouth and eyes which hinted more at a sunny disposition rather than at marking her age, which he approximated at mid-twenties.

  Being a handsome and wealthy bachelor who was incessantly pursued by females, Steven’s eyes leisurely slid over the stirring figure of this unknown challenge. He assessed Brandy to be around five-feet-five-inches tall, probably weighing in at around one hundred and fifteen pounds, wet. Brandy possessed a supple and firm body, giving the impression of vitality and discretion, qualities which appealed to him.

  Brandy’s dark blue designer jeans boasted of a flat stomach and slender, shapely legs. Her tapered, poplin shirt with its bold hues of wildflower faces revealed her nicely rounded bustline. Brandy’s flushed, yet ashen, features and clammy clothes and body informed the alert Steven of a mistakenly impulsive nature which had gotten her into this predicament.

  A capricious grin flickered across Steven’s face as he noted the white tennis shoes upon her feet. Somehow those snowy Adidas looked incongruous with her costly jeans and shirt, even more inconsistent with the expensive gold jewelry which she was wearing. He lifted her left hand to check out a nagging suspicion. There was no wedding band there, only an emerald and diamond dinner ring.

  Steven shrugged his massive shoulders and decided this somewhat careless female was most appealing and nicely rounded in the right places. He lifted a smooth, graceful hand to check her rapid pulse, detecting the doughy feel of her flesh. He pulled her chest close to his alert ear to listen to her drumming heartbeat, enabling him to catch a whiff of a lingering fragrance which stirred his blood.

  Steven noted the excessive dampness of her golden mane as he laid her head upon the ground. He was briefly baffled by her unconscious state. It didn’t appear she was visibly injured, and she certainly had not been involved in a wreck. It looked as if she had suddenly halted her car and had fallen over on the seat. He worried when he could not arouse her. If she was drunk, she didn’t give off any odor of liquor. If she was drugged, she had rashly overdone it. Feeling obligated to assist her, Steven berated her accidental intrusion into his tight schedule. He glanced at his watch. Fate couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to attack this beauty.

  Steven walked over to the car to solve this mystery. It was only a few moments before he located the broken hose and the empty radiator. He wondered if she had been left behind by some companion who had gone for help or if she had been traveling alone; either action was dangerous. It was also clear she had either consumed all of her emergency water or she had left town without any: another stupid mistake. Steven scolded himself for his irrational interest in this maiden in distress; he had enough clingy and hungry females pursuing him at present.

  Steven Winngate sighed heavily in rising annoyance. He couldn’t deny he was partially to blame for his troubles with the opposite sex. The problem was that he was weary of playing games with women who wanted more from him than he was willing to give or to sacrifice. A curious loneliness and restlessness were plaguing him these sultry days. He would admit he wanted a woman to share his life, one who loved and wanted Steve and not “The Steven Winngate.” If the missing facet to his life was a compatible woman, why was it so impossible to locate one? He certainly had a lengthy line of conquests behind him. Why was it so annoying to have women drawn to his looks, prestige, and wealth? A self-made man with what he had to offer couldn’t help but attract countless females. Now here was another feminine problem dumped into his lap and at a most inconvenient time.

  A sensitive, strong-willed man like Steven Winngate couldn’t just ride off and leave a helpless female out here alone and ill. Obviously she was suffering from heat exhaustion. Her car was out of commission, and she was sinking fast. In addition, there could be another victim out there somewhere seeking help, but possibly needing it more than she did. It was approaching time for his meeting. There was no way he could meet both obligations if he didn’t get moving.

  He cursed silently. There was only one humane choice; he would have to lay aside his business and pleasure to take this fetching, troublesome female back to Vegas to the hospital. She was vulnerable and beautiful . . . He grinned devilishly. Perhaps she might find some appropriate way to express her appreciation to him for saving her life.

  With luck, he might locate a highway patrolman to hand her over to within the first few miles. Steven reached inside the car and pushed the gear into neutral, then forcefully rolled the car off the side of the highway and pulled on the emergency blinkers. Until the battery gave out, that would offer some hint of the vehicle’s hazardous location. The patrolman could send someone out to tow her car into town.

  Just as a precautionary action, Steven gathered her possessions to lock them in the trunk of the Cadillac. He grinned as he picked up a pair of sporty, canvas sandals with a two-inch heel—shoes which were more harmonious with her obvious taste and status than the running shoes she was wearing. He noticed the camera and briefcase without placing any significance on either item. Steven casually flung her beige canvas shoulder bag into the trunk, without thinking to search it for her identity. However, his curiosity urged him to open the shimmering gold shopping bag which contained a size eight sensuous silk dress in muted shades of blue, green, and purple.

  He closed the bag as images of how she would look in that stylish dress flickered in his
mind, the fusion of shades perfect for her natural coloring. He slammed the trunk. Aware of the passage of time and his uncommon indecisiveness, Steven dropped the car key into his jeans pocket. He closed the car doors in order to remove the steady drain on the battery from the interior lights, energy the flashing lights would require.

  As the towering man walked over to where Brandy lay, a new thought came into his already irritated mind. How could he carry an unconscious female back to town on his bike? Steven stalked over to glare down at her. Then he gathered her light body into his strong arms and headed for his bike.

  Sturdy legs agilely straddled the motor in his jeans. He sat the girl before him, careful to keep her legs and ankles away from the hot engine and tailpipe. He placed her left leg across his right thigh and her right leg over his left thigh. He removed his yellow bandana which served to entrap his perspiration as well as dress up his western attire. He bound her hands together and slipped them over his head, allowing them to rest around his narrow and firm waist where not an ounce of excess flesh was permitted to exist. The span of his muscular chest and the measured reach of her bound arms brought their heated bodies into close contact. Steven reached backwards and placed her feet within the saddlebags on either side of the back wheel. Steven knew he had no choice but to toss the metal tops off the road. He would worry about replacing the covers later. It was more important to prevent her feet from flaying wildly in the wind. With her secured tightly to his powerful body and her feet prevented from any dangerous mischief, they were ready to move out.

  For the first time, Steven realized he had not even removed his indigo helmet. Needless to say, his mind had been elsewhere since this adventure began. Suddenly aware of how this confining setup might appear to curious eyes along the way, he quickly struggled to unbutton his denim shirt. He certainly did not want to draw any unnecessary attention to either of them. Another intruding newspaper or magazine article about him didn’t sit well at all. He was weary of being publicly exploited. Even with his great wealth and power, he couldn’t always protect his privacy, but he damn well gave it his best shot. A lazy grin raced across his enticing features as he recalled how he had solved the invasion of his privacy by his most troublesome and persistent intruder . . .

  During his attempt to remove his shirt, Steven became acutely aware of Brandy’s soft and curvaceous appeal. He grinned as he visually traced her multiple advantages, including a seductive figure, a mouth which invited searing kisses, exceptionally striking features which teased at a man’s dreams, and a dainty chin which offered a hint of youthful mischief. Her skin mutely enticed caressing; her carefree mane the color of ripe wheat compelled fingers to wander freely through it. The admiring gaze waxed serious. Steven’s frame grew taut as he caught his train of thought and recognized the discomforting strain upon his jeans. He demanded his logical mind to explain how an unconscious female could have such a potent effect on him. She was too attractive and compelling. No doubt she had broken quite a number of hearts. Women with such looks always used them without mercy!

  He placed his denim shirt around her and secured the long sleeves behind his back. He blindly worked to hide her bound hands within its concealing folds. He sighed in relief, for now it would merely look as if she had fallen asleep or as if she was a totally unbridled spirit who was immodestly snuggling up to her lover! But what did he really care about the feelings and thoughts of total strangers? All that concerned him was his privacy and pride, and damn anyone who trampled on them.

  The only problems he now faced were no helmet for her and the unknown length of her unconscious state. Of course it wouldn’t matter if the police halted him for this precarious riding position or for her missing helmet. He would gratefully hand her over to someone else. The real danger lay in her coming to. If she suddenly awoke and started fighting with him, they could both be thrown from his bike. Still, he had to chance her rescue and get on to his waiting appointment before those impatient executives headed for their private Lear jet at the airport. One would think men accustomed to waiting months for an oil well to come in would learn some patience.

  Steven lowered his face shield and kicked back the park-stand. Finding the correct gear with his right foot, he switched on the ignition and gripped the clutch with his left hand. The roar of the engine brought a smile to his sensual lips. Nothing pleased Steven more than a smooth-running, efficient piece of machinery which belonged to him. He pulled on the light switch and eased the motorcycle around. He gradually increased the gas intake to the engine and eased off so smoothly that Brandy didn’t even shift an inch within his embrace, not that she could.

  Along the snaking blacktop highway, Steven’s keen eyes continually scanned the darkened roadside for evidence of a possible companion. If this woman had been traveling with someone, her companion could have gone in the opposite direction towards Lake Mead. As soon as he came into contact with help, Steven would notify the authorities of this strange situation and of her abandoned car.

  If one could be grateful for small favors, Steven was extremely pleased with the illuminating full moon which was climbing over the mountains. It was dark now, and the heat of the day had become less demanding. They journeyed for miles with the arid breeze nipping at their bodies. Soon, Steven was forced to halt the motorcycle in order to confine her tawny curls within her shirt to prevent their whipping into his line of vision and endangering their safety. He savored the feel of her hair as he imprisoned it.

  As he steadied the bike with his strong legs, he berated himself for a stupid oversight. He reached around her and retrieved his water bottle. He forced the thin spout between her lips and then squeezed on the bottle. Most of the tepid water dribbled from the corners of her mouth, but he saw that she was instinctively swallowing some of the lukewarm water. He did this several times until she moaned softly and snuggled up to his hard chest as an injured child to a parent. A curious feeling of protectiveness washed over him, one which warmed him.

  Even though the woman had not awakened, Steven knew he had helped her in a small way. He moistened her lips, then replaced his water bottle. He checked her confines and rested her damp face against his light blue, V-neck T-shirt. He unknowingly hugged her tightly. In some mysterious way, he almost felt as if she now belonged to him for all time. Didn’t the Chinese have an old saying about if you saved a life you owned it? He eased off once again.

  They had traveled for thirty-three miles before he spotted a patrol car just up ahead of them. Steven fed his engine more gas as he hastily attempted to catch up with the car which was beginning to pull away from them. He blinked his headlight time and time again to attract their attention. He pressed his horn with his right thumb. At last the officers seemed aware of his motives and slowed down. Finding a safe location, the patrol car eased off the side of the highway.

  Steven pulled over as soon as he was even with them. He turned off his engine to be easily heard and understood. “I’ve got a problem for you. I found this girl in the Valley of Fire. I don’t know how long she’s been out. I was taking her to the hospital in town, but you fellows could do it faster. Her car’s abandoned beside the road back there—broken hose to the radiator. I left the lights on as a warning, but the battery will be drained pretty soon. I locked her things in the trunk. I’ve got the key in my pocket.”

  Steven reached behind him and yanked the shirt from around their joint bodies. He ducked as he pulled her bound hands over his head. He lifted her feet from the metal saddlebags and let them hang free across his legs. Suspicious eyes observed both him and the captive girl.

  “Here, take her. She’s your problem now. I’m already late for an important meeting as it is,” he stated impatiently, the rosy illusion over now and feeling a curious denial which he didn’t understand.

  The Nevada patrolmen had slowly and cautiously gotten out of their car. Both men studied this arrogant man who was issuing orders like a commandin
g officer. This was a domineering man and an odd situation which demanded closer scrutiny.

  “Not so fast, mister! Who is she? What’s your name?” the first officer questioned. He was a big, burly man who brooked no foolishness or intimidation, and positively didn’t like inexplicable events like this one.

  “How should I know who she is? Never laid eyes on her till she nearly caused me to wreck my bike out there. I came over a hill, and there she was. Stalled right in the middle of the road. Dumb blondes! Since her car was out, I brought her along with me. For all I know, there might’ve been somebody with her. Seems crazy for a woman like this to be out there alone. I didn’t see anyone on my way in, but he could have headed towards Lake Mead—especially if he’s a stranger to these parts. Wouldn’t hurt to check it out,” he advised the two startled men.

  “If you don’t mind, we’ll ask the questions,” the indignant officer tersely stated.

  “Go right ahead, officer, but please make it snappy. As I said, I’m late for a meeting. This little vixen’s already been a load of trouble. I’d be delighted for you to take her off my hands.”

  “You claim you don’t know who she is?” one officer skeptically asked. “You just happened on her out there?”

  “That’s absolutely correct!” Steven snarled, aware of their doubts and his swiftly fleeing time.

  “Where’s her purse, her driver’s license?” the second man joined in on the irritating interrogation.

  “I told you before, I locked her things in the trunk of her car. I didn’t think about bringing her purse or ID. She looked in pretty bad shape, so I tossed her on my bike and headed out. I suggest you get her to the hospital in a hurry.”