Valley of the Vapours (The Americana Series Book 4)

by Janet Dailey

  "The repairs shouldn't be very costly," he said as she turned around to face him. His eyes were watching her with a lazy kind of insolence. "Do I look as if I'm in need of the small pittance my supposed share of the take would be?"

  Her mouth was closed in a grim line. Silently she admitted that money seemed to be the least of his worries. There was a decided look of affluence about him, but it only served to anger her.

  "I really wouldn't know," she shrugged, averting her head to show him she wasn't the least bit interested in his financial status—or in him. "Since my dealings will be with your insurance company, not you, I couldn't care less."

  "Is that right?" The mockery in his voice made it a taunt. "I thought you might be deliberately attempting to provoke me."

  Outrage flamed in the darting look she tossed at him. "Of all the conceited male egos I've known, yours tops the list! Are you always so disgustingly sure that your looks and charm can overwhelm any opposition?"

  Tisha was so busy directing freezing scorn at the narrowed brown eyes, she didn't notice the movement he made in her direction. "I excused your initial bad temper," he said quietly, "because I knew you'd been shaken by the near collision. I've very willingly admitted that I was at fault, nor have I attempted to contest the fact. But I have no intention of letting you keep taking these cheap shots at me."

  At the conclusion of the softly spoken threat, Tisha discovered his arms were on either side of her, pinning her against the car, and his face was uncomfortably close to hers. Her mouth was suddenly very dry.

  "What are you doing?" she demanded, hating the fear that had crept into her voice as she moulded her body against the metal barrier of the car.

  "I'm reminding you that we're on a relatively deserted country road." A humourless smile was on his face.

  "So?" was her weakly defiant reply.

  "So, in a sense, you're at my mercy." His gaze moved to her lips, slightly parted by her apprehension.

  "Don't be ridiculous," she spat, regaining some of her earlier anger. "I'll never be at any man's mercy, least of all yours!"

  "I don't know what card games you've played, but in the ones I know a king takes a queen every time. You might do well to remember that," he mocked.

  His hand moved downward on the car and her muscles tensed as Tisha prepared to fight off his advance. A metallic click broke her concentration. She glanced instinctively in the direction of the sound, startled to see the car door swinging open. Warily she looked back at the man standing so closely in front of her.

  "On your way, Little Red Riding Hood." His eyes were laughing at her disbelieving expression. "Or the wolf may decide to eat you after all."

  Tisha needed no second invitation as she slid behind the wheel of her car, too grateful to be escaping his unwanted attention to care that she was the one doing the retreating. She didn't waste a backward look as she put the car in gear and accelerated around the curve and out of sight.

  A few minutes later Tisha was turning her car into the pillared driveway of her aunt. The house was perched on a hillside overlooking a verdant forested valley on the south. At first glance, it was an unimposing structure of unfinished cedar pine, rustic and in keeping with its setting. The sun glinting on the rooftop windows of the wing was an indication of the house's totally modern interior.

  There was no sign of Blanche as Tisha parked the car and climbed out. She started to reach into the back seat for some of her things when the sound of a stone rolling in the gravel turned her back around. A black and white spotted goat was staring at her, little nubbins of horns beginning to appear on its head, and a hint of a beard beneath his chin.

  "Where did you come from?" she smiled.

  In answer the goat shook its head in a threatening gesture and Tisha noticed the intimidating look in his eyes. He quite obviously believed her to be trespassing and though his horns were not yet fully formed, she didn't want to be attacked by the butting head. Taking care not to make any sudden movement that might antagonize him, she reached into the open window of her car and sounded the horn. She didn't take her eyes off the goat when she heard the opening of the front door.

  "Is he a friend of yours, Blanche?" she asked hesitantly.

  "You've met my gardener," Blanche laughed.

  At the sound of her aunt's voice, the goat turned his head from Tisha, emitting a stuttering baaah.

  "Run along, Gruff," Blanche instructed. "Tisha has come to stay with us."

  As though he understood every word, the goat cast one brief glance in Tisha's direction before wandering off.

  "That is your gardener?" Tisha queried, widening her eyes as she gave her aunt a look that plainly doubted her sanity.

  "I don't have much of a yard," shrugged Blanche, an unmistakable twinkle in her eyes, "but I needed something to keep the weeds down, so I acquired Gruff. He thinks he's a watchdog as well."

  "He did a very excellent job of convincing me that he was." Tisha stared after the goat, now contentedly munching some grass near the fence. "What did you call him? Gruff? It's a very good name for him."

  "Billy was a bit too trite," Blanche smiled. "I remembered a fairy tale I heard as a child and named him Billy Goat Gruff. He makes a very useful pet. He's quite affectionate at times."

  There was a doubting look in the glance Tisha cast at Blanche. "I hope his affection will stretch to include me."

  "He's only gruff with strangers, if you'll pardon the pun," her aunt assured her. "Once he gets to know you, you'll be able to come and go as you please. The very fact that he's ignoring you now indicates that he has accepted you. Sometimes he simply hangs around when I have visitors, peering into the windows and lurking around corners. He rather unnerves them."

  "He does fit the image of a pet to an eccentric artist, doesn't he?" Tisha teased.

  "Do you think so?" Blanche asked in an amused voice. "Probably he does. Well, shall we get your car unloaded and your things moved into the house. I've rearranged my studio so you can have part of it to work in."

  "You didn't need to do that," Tisha protested.

  "I have plenty of room for myself," her aunt insisted as she picked up a pair of suitcases. "How did Richard take your leaving?"

  "He wasn't happy about it, but he seemed reconciled that it was the best solution." A wistful expression tugged downward the corners of Tisha's mouth. "The house will probably seem very empty and lonely to him now."

  "Don't go feeling sorry for him. You would be leaving home sooner or later and he knows it. It's just as well that he becomes used to it now. Besides, living alone isn't so bad. I ought to know."

  "I'm not considering moving back," Tisha declared. "It would only be a matter of days before Dad and I would be fighting over something. I just hope I won't be in your way too much."

  "You won't. If I thought you might, I would never have invited you." Blanche smiled reassuringly as she opened the door of her house for Tisha to enter. "How was the drive here?"

  Tisha's nose wrinkled in disgruntled remembrance. "Don't ask!"

  "What happened?" Blanche laughed. "Did you take a wrong turn and get lost on the mountain roads?"

  "I almost wish I had. A car sideswiped me at that intersection at the bottom of the hill. The stupid man was speeding around the curve on my side of the road. He narrowly missed hitting me head-on. I was lucky to get away with a little dent on the front bumper."

  "You weren't hurt, were you?" watching anxiously as Tisha shook her head that she hadn't. "That's a relief," Blanche sighed. "You haven't had a very good beginning on your first day here."

  "In every sunny day a little rain must fall," Tisha quipped, determined not to think about her run in with Roarke Madison, but she couldn't shake that niggling feeling that she had come out second best in their exchange.

  "I thought you might like the south bedroom. There's a great view from the window of the valley and our mountain."

  It was the middle of the afternoon before Tisha was completely unpacked and ha
d arranged her things in at least temporary order. She walked into the living-room and sank wearily into the smooth amber-covered cushions of the sofa. At almost the same instant her aunt appeared in the doorway of the kitchen carrying a tray of drinks and biscuits.

  "All done?" she inquired. "I was just coming in to suggest you take a break. How does iced tea and peanut butter cookies sound?"

  "Heavenly!" Tisha replied, reaching for the frosted glass on the tray. "Everything has been put somewhere, although I'm sure I'll change things around later."

  "Moving is always so hectic," Blanche agreed as the front doorbell rang.

  Tisha sipped at her drink as her aunt went to the door. The cool liquid was deliciously refreshing as it slipped down her throat. She rubbed the back of her neck, stretching her shoulders to ease the ache of her muscles from all the bending, stooping and lifting. The murmur of voices at the door registered only vaguely until she heard Blanche say in a cheery voice, "Come on in. I want you to meet my niece."

  Then Tisha turned, curious to meet the visitor. The smile of greeting froze in her face as she stared at the man walking beside her aunt. His expression was coolly composed, while she felt as if the sofa had just been pulled from beneath her.

  "You!" she gasped with disbelieving anger.

  "Have you two met each other?" Blanche stared from one to the other in confused surprise.

  A smile ticked the corners of Roarke Madison's mouth. "You might say we ran into each other before."

  "You ran into me," Tisha corrected quickly.

  "So I did," he agreed, then turned to Blanche to explain, "I was the one who put the dent in her bumper."

  "It was sheer luck that he didn't kill me," Tisha retorted, sending him a malevolent glance.

  "I see," her aunt murmured, but her lips were compressed as though she were attempting to conceal a smile. "In the circumstances, I don't know that introductions are in order."

  "I'd already guessed that she was your niece," Roarke stated complacently, "and I found out on my own that she's a provocative redhead."

  "My hair is auburn, for your information," Tisha jeered. "And I found out that you're not only a reckless driver, but an arrogantly conceited one, too!"

  "Yes," he smiled, not the least bit upset by her sarcasm. "I believe you told me that earlier."

  "Roarke is also my neighbour," Blanche inserted, her eyes twinkling at Tisha, carrying a message that she didn't understand at first. "Remember? I said I wanted to introduce you to him."

  With sickening swiftness, Tisha remembered. He was the man her aunt had laughingly suggested she have an affair with. Vivid colour flowed into her cheeks and she was temporarily bereft of any reply. Worse, she felt his gaze studying her face with amused speculation.

  "While I was in town, I arranged for you to have your car taken in tomorrow for the necessary repairs," Roarke informed her, moving leisurely to take a chair opposite Tisha.

  "Then you can cancel it," she answered coldly. "I told you I would make my own arrangements."

  "Don't be silly, Tisha," Blanche intervened. "It's terribly difficult to get a responsible person to work on your car. If Roarke has managed to get you an appointment, you would be wise to keep it."

  Tisha shot a fiery glance at the man, expecting to hear his hearty endorsement of her aunt's words, but he remained silent. How much easier it would have been to let her temper fly if he had attempted to persuade her to agree.

  "I seem to have no choice," she grumbled ungraciously.

  To her surprise, he didn't seize on her submission with typical male superiority. Instead he gave her the name and the address of the repair shop with the air of a man who had carried out his responsibilities and had no more interest in the matter. Pursuing the subject would only make her look as if she was attempting some petty vengeance.

  "If you're going into town tomorrow, I think I will too," Blanche declared, setting her glass on a coaster. "It's been weeks since I've had a thermal bath and massage. I'd better call now to make an appointment. What about you, Tish? The spas here are quite good and the thermal baths are extraordinarily stimulating. Shall I make an appointment for you?"

  Her head moved in polite refusal. "Another time."

  "While I'm on the phone, why don't you get Roarke a glass of iced tea?" her aunt suggested, moving lithely towards the studio and the telephone.

  Tisha was quite willing to escape the glittering brightness of his brown eyes and the masculine presence that permeated the room with nearly physical reality. But the sound of unhurried footsteps behind her indicated her lack of success. She felt rather than saw him pause in the doorway, his lanky build filling the frame. The kitchen was totally foreign to her. She had opened three cupboard doors without finding the one that contained the glasses.

  "I'll get it," Roarke spoke from behind her, walking immediately to the correct cupboard.

  "You know your way around very well, don't you?" Tisha jeered, watching as he unhesitatingly removed the pitcher of tea from the refrigerator and the ice cubes from the receptacle in the freezer.

  His gaze slid over her, mocking yet seeming to physically touch her. "Fairly well."

  "Do you come here often?" She deliberately put as much icy contempt in her voice as she could.

  "What do you really want to know? Whether your aunt and I are or have been lovers?" His candour caught her by surprise. The thought had not consciously crossed her mind. "Blanche is an attractive and warm woman."

  "She's at least ten years older than you!" The olive green colour of her eyes deepened as horrified outrage widened their gaze.

  "Considering the type of man you believe me to be, that shouldn't surprise you."

  "It doesn't surprise me. It disgusts me!" Tisha retorted sharply.

  "Blanche tells me you've had a very strict upbringing. I imagine your outlook is very puritan on the male-female relationship." The blond head was tilted in a patronizing gesture towards her rigid stance.

  "She had no right to be talking about me to you!" The amused way he was looking at her made Tisha feel like an inexperienced teenager. "I'm not exactly ignorant when it comes to sex and sexual relationships."

  "You have first-hand knowledge on the subject, do you?" One side of his mouth lifted in a doubting smile.

  "That is strictly my business! Unlike a man, a woman doesn't go around bragging about her experiences with the opposite sex!" hiding from the cutting truth of his doubt with a burst of bravado.

  There was a satanic gleam in his eyes as he made an insolent and leisurely inspection of her lithe form, pausing for an insulting moment on the quick rise and fall of her breasts beneath her white blouse now deprived of the protection of her jacket, before his gaze continued over her waist, the gentle swell of her hips and down her long slender legs.

  "That's strange," he murmured, his eyes returning with a knowing glitter to the heightened colour of her face. "You don't have the look of a woman who's known a man. Maybe I'll have to reassess my opinion of you."

  "Don't bother!" Tisha ground out harshly.

  "It's no bother. I've always liked challenges." His tongue was very definitely in cheek as he met her murderous glance.

  "Have you?" she asked sweetly. "How's this for a challenge? I despise you!"

  "That'll do for a start." Roarke smiled, flashing a set of white teeth that contrasted sharply with the teak tan of his face. "It might have been more interesting if you'd hated me, though."

  "I hate you, too!" Tisha declared, infuriated by the elephant toughness that warded off her poison darts. "And you can save your interest for someone who appreciates it, like Blanche."

  "Blanche and I are friends. Nothing more," he shrugged complacently.

  "Really?" Tisha murmured sarcastically. "That isn't the impression you gave me a moment ago."

  "I told you what you wanted to hear."

  He was looking at her in a way that made her blood pressure rise. She deliberately ignored the ring of truth in his voice, too fill
ed with a frustrated anger at the way he had purposely tricked her.

  "I see," drawing the words through tightly clenched teeth. "And it's through your friendship—" she paused, so her sneering emphasis on the last word could sink in, "that you've acquired such an intimate knowledge of her house."

  "The truth is much more plausible than that." He was actually grinning at her now. "I designed it."

  Tisha felt as though she had just been impaled on a shaft of cold steel. "What do you mean?"

  "I'm an architect. I not only drew up the blueprint, but I also supervised its construction."

  "I didn't know," she faltered.

  "You didn't ask. You assumed." A brown eyebrow lifted mockingly. "I think you preferred to believe the worst possible reason for my knowledge of the house. It was more in keeping with your opinion of me."

  "You only wanted to make a fool of me," Tisha accused, her anger surging to the foreground again.

  "There's an over-used cliché that fits the situation. In your case, though, it's particularly apt. You're very beautiful when you're angry." He straightened negligently away from the support of the counter. "I guess I couldn't resist striking the match that would set you on fire."

  Blanche appeared in the kitchen doorway before the seething Tisha could think of a suitably cutting retort. "What are you two talking about? Her gaze shifted from the indifferent satisfaction on Roarke Madison's face to Tisha's smouldering rage. "Is it a private war, or can anyone take part?"

  "We were just discussing all the broken hearts Miss Caldwell had left behind," Roarke answered.

  His calm statement drew a puzzled frown. There had been absolutely no discussion regarding the romantic aspects of her life. "I left no broken hearts," she found herself saying, confused that he should even infer such a thing.

  "I doubt that Kevin was overjoyed at your leaving," Blanche reminded her.

  "How did you manage to get rid of your fiancé?" Roarke inquired. The taunting glint in his dark eyes laughed at her astounded look as he let her know how thoroughly her aunt had discussed her niece with him.