Whirlwind

by Jennifer Mikels

  She looked down at his hand, at the color of his flesh, so much darker than her own. It was a broad hand, strong yet gentle. She felt oddly safe with him even though she hardly knew him, and sensed he'd be a considerate and tender lover.

  She blinked, abruptly dismissed the state of complacency that overwhelmed her, stunned that such sensuous thoughts had filled her own mind.

  His gaze was again perusing her, but this time it was slow and raking, meant to make her aware of his thoughts. As his eyes moved down and then back up her length, his features softened. Her breath quickened. She wasn't an adolescent who had never been the object of sensuous visual passes. Yet she would be lying to herself now if she pretended she didn't want to know the warmth of his embrace, the consuming power of his body.

  Dayna moved quickly away, more concerned over her own response than anything else. As she stepped into the elevator and faced Brand, she met his blue eyes and saw his rueful smile. "There is something to be said for a brief encounter."

  With the same sureness he had shown throughout the few short hours they had been together, he responded, "I believe in destiny, Dayna. We'll meet again."

  Chapter Three

  Eye-squinting sunshine glared down on Dayna, blasting heat against her skin as she waited with Shelly and Karen outside the hotel for transportation to the Double R Guest Ranch.

  Slipping on her sunglasses, Dayna experienced a momentary illusion of coolness, which was dispelled as she felt the fabric of her yellow dress sticking to her back, and rivulets of perspiration tickling the flesh between her breasts. She noticed she wasn't alone in her discomfort. Beads of perspiration had formed above Shelly's upper lip, and she felt her smooth, sophisticated coiffure—the result of concentrated effort in front of her mirror that morning—succumb to the pounding heat as her hair reverted to its naturally tightly curled state.

  Dayna's gaze searched the cars in the hotel's vast parking lot. She had tried not to think further about Brand after she left him, but now, with nothing to do until the ranch's car arrived, she found herself thinking about the evening before. She wasn't so naive that she didn't recognize a persuasive line when she heard it. She honestly had expected him to try harder to coax her to his room and was surprised when he hadn't. Even though their meeting was brief, it had been quite an experience. After the clash between them in the hallway, she never imagined she'd end up spending part of the evening with him or that she would be so receptive to his kiss. But his apology had soothed away her irritation with the blinking of an eye. From that moment on, the initial attraction she had felt for him had taken over. Somehow she sensed that it was just as well their encounter had been so brief. Too much excitement stirred within when she was with him. There was definitely a chemistry between them and with a little more mixing together quite an explosive formula could have been concocted.

  She looked up and saw the blue van bearing the printed words "Double R Guest Ranch" in gold letters on the side panel. The driver was concealed by the tinted glass and the decorative screen on the windows, so they couldn't see him until the door opened and he came around the front of the van.

  Standing nearly six feet tall, he lumbered toward them with slow steps. A pronounced paunch hung over the carved leather belt of his low-riding jeans, and the sleeves of his plaid shirt were rolled up to his forearms, revealing strong arms that belied his excess poundage. He appeared to be in his late fifties. He doffed his brown, soft-textured Stetson to display thin gray hair and bright brown eyes that glistened with humor. Deep lines were etched in his leathery skin as he smiled a greeting. "Welcome, ladies. Name's Roscoe T. Bonner. Bonnie for short. Right sorry I'm so late."

  Dayna was slow to respond, not having really expected a typical cowboy to meet them.

  Tilting his head, Bonnie asked, "You are the ladies from the city I was supposed to meet, aren't you?"

  Dayna nodded as she noted the bowed legs that supported the man's huge frame.

  It was all the response Bonnie needed to continue loquaciously. "Well, here now," he said, reaching for their luggage, "let me take these and get you aboard and out of this sun so you can get to the Double R before sunset. Prettiest time of the day," he added, as he opened the back door of the van and placed the luggage inside.

  Despite his down-home attire and demeanor, he gallantly assisted each of them into the van. Dayna waited until they had pulled out of the private drive into the city's rush-hour traffic before asking, "Is it far?"

  "Nope. Used to take less time, but that was way before all the people swarmed in on us and the speed limit got lowered."

  Dayna smiled to herself, liking the man's amiable manner. She was quite certain Roscoe T. Bonner would tell them all about overpopulation and a lot of other things that didn't coincide with his way of thinking. She suddenly became aware that his keen, twinkling brown eyes were staring at her in the rear-view mirror.

  With a questioning look, Dayna said, "I'm sorry. Did you say something to me?"

  "Was saying I sure hope you ladies like your stay. Hope you'll forgive an old codger like myself for staring," he said, including Shelly and Karen even though his eyes were fixed on Dayna and his words were obviously meant for her. "I think you ladies may outdo the beauty of our sunset. Sure are the prettiest ladies I've seen in a long time. That's the most beautiful color hair, ma'am, I've ever seen. Looks like gold threads have been woven into that hair of yours."

  Dayna thanked him for his compliment and responded teasingly, "I bet you say that to all the women."

  Bonnie snorted, his head moving back with mirth. "An old goat like me? No, ma'am," he said, his eyes twinkling with memories of past days. "I had my share of flings in my younger years. There's plenty of young bucks strutting around now who do that sort of thing." He winked at Dayna in the mirror. "I just flirt with the pretty girls now."

  Dayna smiled with amusement, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes for a few minutes. She remained that way, not really listening to the conversation around her. Her mind's eye conjured up such a clear image of Brand that it was as if he stood before her, and she fought to dispel the image. From the things the others were saying, it seemed they were out in the country, and she opened her eyes. As far as the eye could see there was open land, sparsely covered by prickly totem pole cacti and desert bushes, straggly looking pale green foliage, and in the far distance, the hazy outline of jagged mountains.

  "Can you accommodate many guests?" Shelly asked.

  "We're kind of small compared to some of the resort ranches that have over a hundred guests. The whole spread's not small though," he said with a proud expression that revealed his years of loyalty. "It's one of the biggest in the state—still an honest-to-goodness cattle ranch. A new complex was built to accommodate guests, but there's still all the old buildings of the original ranch, and that's where the wranglers are most of the day. It's kind of like two worlds, and who you are pretty much determines which world you see. W.R.—Will Reardon, that is—gets so he knows every one of the guests by name. His thinking is that if everyone gets to know everyone else, they're more comfortable. We get a lot of regulars who return year after year because of that way of thinking. They get to feeling like it's home." He made a grimace. "And I don't think it's for Charlie Young's cooking. Not that it's bad, mind you. Sure wouldn't want you thinking you're going to starve. I guess it's good. Everyone says so. But me, I've always been partial to biscuits and gravy for breakfast, and dang nab it, only once in a while you'll find it on the menu, and that's only because our foreman has gone and ordered it."

  Karen glanced at Dayna with a meaningful look. They weren't even at the ranch and already the foreman was being mentioned. Dayna's curiosity was piqued. "Is the foreman difficult to get along with?"

  "Not really. Sometimes he's the most ornery foreman you'll ever meet if things aren't done right. But he's a man after my own heart who knows what should be served with his eggs."

  Dayna grimaced over the idea of eggs and biscuits and
gravy. Verbose as he was, Bonnie slid from one subject to the next. When his conversation turned to a description of some Indian ruins, Dayna directed her attention to the scenery again. Shelly's excited voice broke through her thoughts. "Is that it?"

  "Sure is," Bonnie replied, conveying by his tone the pleasure he got when he looked at the ranch through the eyes of someone new.

  Out in the middle of gently rolling hills and sparsely vegetated desert was a complex of buildings. A short drive over a curving, hilly dirt road soon again revealed the ranch. Sitting on a mesa were white adobe buildings with red Spanish tile rooftops. The multistory main lodge was flanked by motel-style accommodations and a few cottages. A circular flagstone path led the way to an immaculately kept golf course and a tennis court. In the distance was a stable and a small corral where some guests new to ranching were becoming acquainted with their new mode of transportation.

  Dayna sat up in her seat, awed by the elegant resort atmosphere of the ranch. At the moment, she wasn't sure if she was disappointed that it wasn't more typically western or excited over the prospect of such a luxurious vacation. Glancing at Roscoe T. Bonner she found it hard to picture him in this environment. Dayna didn't need to ask Shelly her first impression of the resort. As Bonnie stopped the van, her eyes were fixed on an attractive man dressed in jeans but sporting an executive-styled haircut, indicating he was a city man and a guest.

  Though it was cooler than in the city, the warmth of the setting sun lingered on the open desert. The heat of the day rose from the ground, penetrating the thin soles of Dayna's sandals.

  An early evening breeze lifted a swirl of dust into the air. Standing beside the van, Dayna tucked her chin in to shield her face. The miniature whirlwind seemed to avoid her; nothing would spoil this friendly, welcoming scene.

  When the minitornado had passed, Bonnie raised his head and watched the funnel of dirt journey over a hill. "Dust devils, they're called. Just come out of nowhere to swirl past you. Don't cause any real harm but sure are annoying for those who aren't used to them." He smiled, touching the brim of his Stetson. "We're just going to have to get you ladies some hats. Wear them low on your heads like this," he added, giving a brief demonstration, "and when one of those critters comes, you just bend your head down like so. Might as well get used to them. Dust devils are one of the natural charms of this part of the country," he said with a good-natured laugh.

  Shelly and Karen nodded attentively, but Dayna was preoccupied with viewing the sights around her, noticing that there was no sign of a working ranch. Where was the other world that Bonnie had mentioned? Slowly she turned her head in response to Bonnie's voice as he suggested, "Why don't you ladies go stand on the covered porch? You'll be a lot cooler there while I get your suitcases."

  Without hesitation they accepted his idea, and leading the way, Shelly tried to hurry around the front of the van, but the narrow heels of her shoes impeded her, slipping beneath her as she moved over the unsteady, shifting soil. She walked in this wobbling manner until she reached the flagstone walkway. Along with Karen, she moved onto the porch steps. Dayna was slower. As she approached the lodge, an old, dark-blue pickup raced around the corner of the building, shortcutting over unpaved ground and coming to a nerve-tingling, dust-blinding stop only inches away from her.

  Particles of soft dust, the aftermath of the vehicle's abrupt stop, showered her. She choked on the finely powdered air, and, coughing ineffectually, waved it away from her face with her hand. A layer of grit clung to her skin as the sandy dirt settled to the ground again. The door of the pickup flew open and its driver jumped from the high seat of the cab.

  Bonnie was also caught in the wake of the dusty cloud. He raised his bent head and, waving the dust away with his hat, he squinted in the driver's direction and grumbled, "We've got all kinds of dust devils."

  Dayna's first sight of the speed demon from the pickup was a pair of well-broken-in and well-scuffed cowboy boots. The rest of his attire declared he wasn't dressed just to offer the guests a sight of a real western cowboy. He obviously did his share of work around the cattle ranch.

  Like Bonnie, he wore jeans, but his were dust-shrouded and clung to his lean, masculine hips and followed the hard contours of his long legs. A plain leather belt with a large silver buckle held his blue work shirt in place. Dusty and sweat-marked, the open shirt neck revealed a chest covered by soft brown hair. Because his worn and dusty hat was pulled forward over his face, Dayna couldn't see his grimace of distressed expression over the scene he'd just caused.

  He slammed the truck door and approached them, an apology on the tip of his tongue. "Sorry about that, but…" He cut his words short.

  Dayna's breath caught in her throat as she lifted her smarting eyes and met Brand's blue-eyed gaze. Through the shock of momentary surprise she saw his mocking amusement. "Still don't believe in destiny, Dayna?"

  Dayna held on tightly to her composure. He had known she was coming to the ranch, and it now seemed that he had intentionally kept silent about certain facts just for his own private amusement. Her eyes took in the jeans and work shirt once more. Though he wasn't any less handsome now than in the suit he had worn at the hotel, she fumed inwardly, remembering he had also said nothing during her remarks about cowboys. "Have you had your fun?" she asked, unable to hide her irritation.

  Seemingly unconcerned, he cocked the beige western hat back on his head. The sun sprayed a soft light on a portion of his hair, and once again a disturbing weakness swept through Dayna's entire body. She lowered her gaze, cognizant of just how much his good looks affected her, and brushed at the skirt of her dress. "You're really an imbecile," she added.

  "I see we're back to name-calling. I said I was sorry," he repeated.

  Shelly uttered a reply. "It's all right. We're okay."

  Dayna had to swallow the words she really wanted to say but fired a question at him. "Do you work here?"

  "It sounds as if you're about to pull rank on me," he speculated openly. "Yes, ma'am," he drawled with insolent mockery, laughter showing in his disturbing blue eyes. Her words about having her fill of cowboys came back to her. Had he been laughing at her throughout the whole conversation they'd shared? She could see nothing humorous in any part of the present situation, including the layer of grit clinging to her and the fact that her delicate sandals were covered with a quarter of an inch of sandy soil. Swiftly she averted her eyes and sought the only person she could appeal to.

  "Mr. Bonner, is your employer nearby?"

  Karen threw her a worried glance. Dayna knew she was questioning her agitated state over a simple mistake in timing.

  Appearing baffled by her request, Bonnie sputtered, "Well—well, yes, ma'am, he is but…" Bonnie stopped himself, turning worried eyes on Brand. Brand responded as arrogantly as ever, it seemed to Dayna. Indifferently shrugging one shoulder and showing little concern, he left Bonnie in a quandary as to what to do.

  Bonnie's indecision ended abruptly as the main lodge door opened and an older man appeared. "What's wrong here?"

  Bonnie appeared relieved that someone else was there to referee and answered quickly. Offering the proper amount of respect to their guests, he said, "W.R., these ladies just arrived and—well— there's been a little, uh, trouble. A dust devil of our own welcomed them."

  Tall, large-boned, with large facial features, William Reardon wasn't a handsome man. His most attractive physical characteristic was his thick mane of snow-white hair. He had a deep, authoritative voice, and Dayna was certain he would set an ill-mannered employee back a step or two. She knew her irritation stemmed from Brand's intentional silence in Phoenix, and the feeling urged her to get even somehow. "Sir," she began.

  W.R. politely interrupted. "W.R., please."

  Dayna gave him a wan smile, not wanting to direct her irritation with Brand at the pleasant and well-mannered man standing before her. "We'd just arrived, looking forward to an enjoyable and relaxing visit, when your employee came around the buildin
g as if he was on the last lap of the Indy 500."

  A deep, rumbling chuckle was Brand's response although she hadn't meant to be funny. Dayna's green eyes flashed with annoyance, bringing Brand's laughter to an abrupt end but not removing the amused grin from his face.

  Firmly, Dayna's eyes met his in a silent stand-off, but the blue eyes that narrowed at her in thoughtful contemplation were as disconcerting to her as his devilish smile. Trained to handle people and difficult situations, she was amazed that her poise was so shaky. She couldn't slow down the quickened pace of her heart which was only intensified by his sensuous gaze as it traveled down the length of her body. The warmth in his eyes was so intense it seemed to heat every inch of her flesh.

  Unknowingly, W.R. came to her aid. "Ladies, I hope you'll forgive such an inhospitable welcome," he said, but his furrowed brow conveyed an inner confusion.

  "Oh, that's all right," Shelly replied quickly.

  Karen was also swift to answer. "Really," she assured W.R. with a smile, ignoring the gray layer of dust covering the tips of her shoes, "it was nothing."

  Dayna could have wrung both their necks. A handsome man comes along and they turn to putty in his hands. Just like you, she reminded herself, remembering how responsive she had been with Brand.

  Brand's mouth lifted in a winsome, gleaming smile meant to charm and placate. Turning to Shelly and Karen, he replied, "Thank you, ladies. That leaves only you, Dayna. What do you say? Am I forgiven?" he asked with a light mocking tone.

  Dayna drew a deep breath, trying to counteract the warm glow of excitement sweeping through her. Grudgingly, she managed some pleasantry as she looked down at the front of her dress. "No harm done—I guess." Pointedly she added, "This time."

  Brand's eyes danced with humor. "Thank you," he answered with exaggerated politeness, extending his hand in a gesture of peace. "I can see you've got the nature of a gracious lady."

  Dayna stared at the large, sun-browned, calloused hand stretched toward her. The last thing she wanted to do was shake hands with him. Even that gesture seemed a mocking reminder that they were well past that stage. Her eyes flew to W.R. Was he deaf to the taunting sound in Brand's voice? If he was, Dayna couldn't tell. The Double R owner wore an ambiguous frown. With a resigned sigh, she knew she might as well shake Brand's hand and get the whole ridiculous situation over with. But when her palm was engulfed by the hugeness of his, she felt a sensual attraction even in this simple gesture.