Valley of Fire

by Janelle Taylor

  Infuriated by his entrapped position and annoyed with Brandy for causing it, he smiled ruefully at her and drawled, “She’s right, Miss Alexander. I should have recalled those plans before setting up our business meeting for this evening. I’m afraid we’ll have to complete it some other time. How long will you be in town?” he asked, trying to sound casual while his gut was tying itself in knots.

  Business again! Brandy wisely concealed her outrage and anguish from this antagonistic female who was grinning triumphantly and maliciously at her. She also hid her pain and disappointment from the man who obviously wanted to conceal their relationship from his lady friend. Not a single trace of their previously shared warmth, openness, and compatibility remained in his aura. He revealed nothing more than politeness and formality. She chided herself for mistakenly reading more into their new relationship than he had intended or presented. So be it.

  Hurt, but still proud, she graciously stated, “I’ll be flying home tomorrow, Steven. Just phone Casey for another appointment; she handles my schedule. Good-bye, Miss Blanchard, Steven.”

  Brandy left the table and gracefully made her way to the door. His eyes never left her retreating back until she had closed the door behind her. Not once had she lost her poise, temper, or manners; nor had she looked back a single time while departing. He had hoped to see her again before she left town.

  Seething with jealousy, Camille bored her eyes into the unfamiliar and disturbing look within his mellow, hungry gaze which was brought about by the enchanting writer who had just left them. What did this carefree man see in that uptight little priss? Camille wanted what Steven Winngate had to offer, all of it. She raged at his stinging insults and rejections.

  The instant Brandy was gone, Steven’s furious gaze settled on Camille. “If you ever do anything like that again, Miss Blanchard, consider yourself washed up with any of my companies. You and I have a business arrangement, nothing more. I don’t like you insinuating that there’s more between us. Frankly, if you weren’t doing the ad campaign for my new firm, we wouldn’t even see each other again. Now, if you have the marketing report from Jason, I suggest you pull it out, and let’s get this matter settled quickly. After we wine and dine the Zartoffs, I expect you to be on the next plane back to California. Tell Jason to send his next report by someone else. Understood?”

  Brandy returned to her room. Determined to let the chips fall where they may, she placed a call to Casey. A sudden feeling of homesickness and a desperate need for solitude possessed her. She informed Casey of her intention to catch a plane back to Kentucky as soon as possible. She sent her regrets to the others. When Casey questioned her about her hasty departure and her date with Steven tonight, she laughed bitterly and glossed over the details of their lunch. Knowing her well, Casey guessed she was becoming too emotionally involved with Steven Winngate.

  “The deal called for a story on location in Kentucky. He broke our date for tonight. Let him do the pursuing and asking next time! If he’s serious and sincere, he knows where to find me. Besides, I really want to go home for a while. I’ll be back soon. I have that publicity tour to do, remember?”

  Casey wondered if she should relate her suspicions about this man to her friend and client. She had received an alarming phone call right after Brandy’s. After which, she had done some checking around, and she didn’t like what she had discovered.

  “What’s up, Casey?” Brandy asked curiously into the silence.

  Why would Steven Winngate offer Webster Books a million dollars for Brandy’s latest book? Why had Jensen’s Bookstore also phoned to get a complete list of her books, the publishers, and dates of release? A man named Lance Reynolds was offering whatever amount it required to buy a copy of each one, even those out of print. Casey knew who Lance Reynolds was. She had phoned Glitter and been snottily informed the story and layout on Brandy were ready and waiting for publication, this week. If that wasn’t enough, a little man in a brown suit was checking her out around town, probably a private detective. The little sneak was trying to get copies of every interview and television show she’d done. What devious scheme did Steven Winngate have in mind? When Casey genially asked for Brandy’s opinion, she listened intently to the answer.

  “All he said was he wanted to know me as well as I know myself. If he carries out his plan in motion, he certainly will,” she declared saucily.

  It didn’t make sense. If he’d checked her out, why this deceptive offer? Maybe it was just an eccentric whim. “Is that all there is to it, Brandy?” she inquired gravely.

  “Steven doesn’t strike me as impulsive. He plans every move he makes. I think he’s convinced I didn’t set up our first meeting to prevent the Glitter story; maybe I’m wrong. I just don’t understand what he wants from me.”

  “Perhaps you’ve bruised his ego with your rejection,” Casey ventured.

  “That’s impossible! After the party, we—” She lit up like a Christmas tree with red lights and halted, delighted Casey couldn’t see her face.

  The perceptive Casey didn’t have to view her guilt—Brandy’s voice shouted it. Casey’s mouth fell open and she stared at her phone. “You and Winngate? You have a relationship going with him?”

  “I mean . . . Steven and I . . .” Brandy couldn’t find the proper words to extricate herself. “Not exactly,” Brandy replied. “What the hell, Casey!” she exploded in exasperation. “We’re not kids. I slept with him once, the night of the party. I’d met him five or six times before that. Lunch was the first time I’ve seen him since that night. He’d have to be blind not to see how I feel about him.”

  “Then why is he trying to—“ Casey halted and began to giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” Brandy demanded softly.

  “Don’t you see, Brandy? You’ve got him hook, line, and sinker, and he’s scared. He isn’t trying to harm you; he just wants to know if you’re good enough for Steven Winngate.” Casey’s mind was spinning with speculations. Landis in Valley was like him; he could afford to purchase his whims, and his whim was to own that love story. “He simply wants to know everything there is about you before making a commitment. My Lord, Brandy, he’s probably in love with you. That’s his motive—he wants time alone to woo you,” she teased. “Are you sure you want Nigel around?”

  “What if you’re wrong, Casey?” she asked fearfully. “Besides, Nigel was invited first. I can’t call him and tell him he’s not welcome now. It should work out fine. He and Steven are friends.”

  “Bet you I’m not wrong,” Casey stated confidently. “Give him some rope and time, Brandy. He’ll either hog-tie you or hang himself.”

  By six thirty, Brandy was packed and on a plane, to some measure of safety from the hypnotic effect of Steven Winngate, to some protective distance where she could intelligently analyze these conflicting emotions which she could not control or understand. If only love and romance were the way she wrote about them . . .

  She wanted Lance Reynolds, but did he exist? She wanted to enchant and to win Steven, but he was a hard nut to crack. Without asking or trying, he could get his wishes. When their paths crossed again, she could not permit him to walk upon her susceptible heart with those cleat-bottomed shoes. She had foolishly lowered her guard and revealed too many secrets to that disarming, magnetic man. She must have appeared silly, naïve, amusing, and idealistic to him. No doubt he had enjoyed playing with her, mocking her naiveté and romantic notions about life and love.

  But she would show him. She would be just as stubborn and wily as he was, just as casual. She fumed at her foolishness, her inexperience. But if this was just another game, she was no match for his skills and prowess.

  Chapter Nine

  Golden sunlight played upon Brandy’s tawny hair and skin. Her green eyes glowed with renewed vitality and zest. Laughter was uncontrollably torn from her parted lips and sent to float upon the breeze which f
anned her silky mane out behind her. The sky was azure and clear, and the air was fresh and invigorating. The recent rains had left the trees and grasses a lush, verdant hue. Colorful wildflowers scattered themselves across the landscape with striking splendor.

  For six days and nights she had battled her unrequited love and powerful desire for Lance Reynolds. He had not even bothered to call her since her return home, if he even knew about it! Perhaps he had changed his mind about doing another story; perhaps the lunch and offer had been some mischievous joke on her. Perhaps he had only been attempting to prove she was just as susceptible to him as most women were; perhaps he had wanted to disprove her indifference and resistance. She must never let him discover the truth. She must never become the toy or sole possession of such a selfish, complex man!

  On the morning of the seventh day, she had forcefully rebuked herself; she had given long and deep study to her feelings and situation. She must halt this destructive and demanding mood of self-pity and rejection. She could not forever moon over a man who had no use or affection for her, one who cruelly tantalized her. She must get over him, forget him completely! As he had obviously forgotten her.

  The best medicine to heal a broken heart was concentration on some other matter, something mind-consuming and important. She would take care of some matters here at the ranch, rest for a while, fulfill her tour obligations, then head off to the Northwest to research her next novel, just as planned before he stepped into her life that morning at the Las Vegas Hospital.

  Their meeting in the Valley of Fire appeared symbolic to her. The flames in his smoldering sapphire eyes could melt her soul. Her life’s valley had been tranquil very seldom since knowing him. To be trapped in his strong arms was like being imprisoned in a furnace, one which refined her love and passion, one which forged a stronger bond to him. Each time she invaded his blazing valley, wildfires attacked her body and threatened to consume her. His touch singed her as a brand of ownership. He was her valley of fire . . .

  If she could control it at all, she should make certain their paths never crossed again. She would not chase a dream, no matter how much she wanted to.

  Encouragement and assistance had arrived two days past. Just before dinner on the fourth day, Nigel had arrived for his visit. They had laughed and talked far into the night. He was good for her morale. He made no demands on her. They were as kindred spirits. Both had realized long ago they would be close friends, confidants, solaces, and companions . . . but never lovers or spouses.

  Nigel was easygoing, natural, genuine, and affectionate. They frequently helped each other through rough or trying times, with a companion for a trip or certain event, with the warmth and closeness of an innocent love. If there was trouble, he was around to see her past it. If she was sad or disheartened, he was there to encourage or enliven her. At times she wished he were her real brother, for he suited and performed that role perfectly and continuously.

  Nigel had slept late this morning. Brandy had risen early to ride Wildfire, as was her daily custom when home, when not writing late. Wildfire was a huge, powerful Appaloosa whose intelligence and loyalty made him dear to her heart. His hide was off white, with gray and black splotches dashed upon his flanks, and his head and neck were heavily gray and white. His flowing mane and tail were dark gray, his legs solid white.

  She moved across the open pasture with life-giving energy entering her body and mind. She never felt freer or happier than when she was sitting on Wildfire’s broad back with his hooves barely touching the ground as they raced across the grassy terrain. Clad in cutoff jeans whose color had long since faded to a sky blue and in a cotton shirt which was made from red bandana material and tied in a snug knot just beneath her firm breasts, she appeared a carefree wood nymph to the stormy blue eyes which heatedly traced her aimless ramblings.

  Her slender fingers were tightly intertwined in the flowing gray mane of the massive beast. Her bare legs and feet were tucked around the wide breadth of the animal’s stomach. Steven couldn’t help but wonder how she held on without the benefit of a bridle or the security of a saddle. He was alarmed and frightened by the speed of their abandoned race with the wind. Yet, she appeared to be one with the horse. Their joint movements were as graceful and poetic as the swaying of those wildflowers beneath them.

  To any observant eyes or alert ear she was totally relaxed and vividly exuberant. Her laughter was like the soft babble of a mountain stream, and her aura could rival the wind for its freedom and restlessness. Steven absently wondered if this could be the same helpless girl he had rescued from death in the Valley of Fire, or the same ravishing female he had met again on several social occasions since that fateful day, or the same enchanting woman he had treated to lunch that day before she left town without so much as a phone call or a polite good-bye! She had not even bothered to leave him a message about her hasty departure or their business deal to salvage her name. Had she forgotten all they had shared that one night in her hotel room?

  Had she hoped he wouldn’t show up here after all? Had she thought he was joking? Had she been angered by his broken date? Or was she only trying to learn if he would pursue her?

  As she paused to allow her horse to catch his wind, she leaned forward and hugged his neck with affection and admiration. She lovingly stroked his head and neck and spoke words which Steven could not hear from that lengthy distance. He smiled secretly as he lifted the camera which was suspended around his neck. He focused the telephoto lens and brought her image into perfect view. He took numerous shots without her knowledge. Both his heart and his loins leaped hungrily at the sight she presented. His task would be tough, as easy as seizing the wind or capturing mist or chasing a fleeing shadow.

  As Brandy finally headed towards the nearby stables, Steven centered upon her rapidly altering facial expressions which spoke of her various inner moods. One of his favorite shots was the one which revealed her first, unanticipated sighting of him. Utter shock was written upon her lovely, fresh face. If he cared to do so, he could easily win a photography contest with that gem of a snapshot.

  Brandy halted abruptly and stared at the man’s form which was partially visible through the split-rail fence. Although his face was concealed by his hands and his camera, she knew whom that virile frame and arrogant stance belonged to. Knowing he was no doubt focused upon her face, she hastily lowered her head. Her flowing mane hid her face until she could bring her scattered emotions into some kind of safe confinement. She feared his lens might reveal the heavy drumming of her heart as she sought to control this unleashed hunger and excitement which helplessly surged through her body and mind at the mere sight of his close proximity.

  If his intention was to startle her into revealing his true effect upon her, he was a great success. She breathed deeply in an attempt to slow her racing heart and to cool her molten blood. She failed to note the look of anger and resentment which filled his features at the sighting of her supposed irritation at his sudden arrival at her ranch.

  If she thought he would not keep their enticing appointment, she could only blame herself. Just as she was sadly mistaken if she believed she could long deny him his wishes and desires. Before he left this lovely ranch, she would no longer be an enigma; she would no longer be an obsession; she would no longer be untouched by his magnetism. If there was one thing he knew for a fact, it was his effect upon women—they had certainly proven it enough times. Brandy Alexander would never qualify for “the one who got away!” If her disinterest wasn’t a farce, she still would be unable to battle him and come out the winner. Perhaps that was the heart of his obsession. Could he win this rare woman?

  He scoffed at his foolish feelings. He hadn’t met a woman who could tempt him to give up his freedom until Brandy. He hadn’t found anyone to suit him or his life-style until Brandy. Yet, this golden girl—woman—encompassed all he wanted and needed to make such a drastic change in his life . . .
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br />   Staring his possible defeat in the face, Steven couldn’t honestly decide if he wanted to risk a rejection. A curious resentment and novel hesitation filled him, resentment at her possible rejection, a hesitation to challenge the unknown future. She had been perceptive and accurate with her statements that day at lunch: Love and marriage were a big sacrifice and responsibility. Was she just as scared and hesitant as he was? He did not realize these moody, stormy lights were vivid within his blue eyes as she slowly walked her horse over to where he was nonchalantly leaning against the white fence.

  Steven reflected on their passion-filled night together. Did she regret her submission? Had he physically hurt her? Was she frightened by her feelings for him? Had sex perhaps disappointed her? If only he knew her thoughts and feelings . . .

  “Steven, this is a surprise,” she remarked in a formal tone. “Since I hadn’t heard from either you or Casey, I assumed you had decided against coming. Please excuse my lack of hospitality and sloppy appearance. You should have called me. I would have picked you up at the airport. If you’ll wait for me on the porch, I’ll shower and dress. Have you eaten yet?”

  “No, ma’am,” he lazily drawled. “The early flight didn’t serve breakfast this morning. I thought it was best to rent a car, in case I have to rush back for business reasons. I’ve got a merger going out West, and I’ll need to keep a check on it. I must apologize for the mix-up; I suppose my secretary forgot to call. If I’m intruding . . .” He halted as he allowed his words to speak for themselves.

  “Certainly not. I’ll have Mary bring you some coffee while I make myself more presentable for company.” She visibly relaxed as she smiled at him, intrigued by his arrival and enticing persistence, confident on her home turf.