by Summers, Amy
"Oh, I couldn't." She was horrified.
"But I want you to," he said firmly. He would brook no argument, that was plain.
Flushing, she slipped it into her pocket, intending to have it appraised and polished before giving it back to him.
She looked up and caught his gaze on her, and once again she was sunk in the warm confusion that he seemed adept at producing in her.
"I still don't know how you could enjoy swimming in such cold water," she ventured lamely, wishing he would look away.
The smile that quirked his wide mouth lent a flash of fire to his silver eyes, and she felt mesmerized by his gaze, compelled, like a swaying cobra before a flute, to move closer, ever closer, to his overwhelming presence.
"I guess the wet suit helps," she forced out awkwardly.
He nodded slowly, his eyes steady on her. "It does help in the water, but it starts to get awfully hot out here in the sun." With one deft tug he pulled down the huge zipper that ran from his throat to the bottom of his suit. The two sides of black neoprene curled open, revealing his bare chest and low-slung swimming trunks.
Her gaze slipped down the length of him. When her eyes came to rest on the dark hair that curled in circles around his flat navel, she couldn't seem to look away.
He was shrugging out of the suit, peeling it off his body like a butterfly emerging from a thick black cocoon. "Can you give me a hand?" he asked as the tight neoprene caught one of his arms at his back.
No! her mind shouted, but without thinking she reached out and tried to help tug off the uncooperative material. The skin of his back felt warm under her fingers. Water dripped from his wet hair to dot a design upon her arm, and her breath began to come faster, as though she'd been running very hard.
Clenching her fists around the wet suit, she gave a tremendous yank that expressed all her anger at the way her treacherous body was responding to his nearness.
"Ouch!" He pulled away from her. "Don't take my skin with it!"
But his eyes were crinkling with amusement. She glanced at his mouth, then quickly down at the papers she'd placed on a convenient rock.
She had to get away. He was just playing with her, knowing how she reacted to everything he did. She had to get away and keep away.
He was out of the suit now, standing before her in only his trunks. She steeled herself. "Don't you have a towel or something?" she snapped. "You're going to catch pneumonia."
His grin was cocksure. "All I need is a good woman to warm me up." He laughed, then reached out and pulled her to him as she'd been hoping, dreading.
She wanted his kiss more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life, yet she hated herself for her own desires. Fool, she chastised herself, stupid fool—even as she melted against him, turning her face toward him in anticipation.
He tasted clean and salty, and she loved the cool skin of his face against her cheek, the hot feel of his smooth flesh beneath her hands. His mouth was sultry temptation, and she felt deliciously weak.
Chapter 3
"Thawn!"
Go away. Go away and leave us alone. Leave me here forever.
But the call had obviously surprised Rafe, and he jerked his head up.
Tom stood on the sea cliff ten feet above their heads. From the stern look on his face, Thawn knew what he was thinking.
"Friend of yours?" Rafe murmured.
"Yes." She removed herself slowly from his arms, noting with chagrin that she was trembling. Something in her hoped that Rafe would pull her back, curl her into his arms and challenge the world to try to pry her free. Instead his attention seemed to focus on Tom.
"What's he doing here?" he asked evenly.
"I... I asked him to come along with me," she answered shakily.
His eyes returned to her, flashing silver fire. "What for? Protection?"
"No, of course not." But a tiny, wriggling voice of conscience disagreed. She knew that the thought of having Tom along when she faced Rafe had once seemed like a good idea. "I wanted his advice on something I found on your building site," she explained.
She had his full attention now, and he turned on her, every muscle taut with readiness. "And just what was it you found?" he demanded, his voice quiet, colorless.
"Ammonites." She leaned down to pick up her clipboard and papers.
"Ammonites?"
"Fossil shells of mollusks who lived millions of years ago."
He watched her for a moment, the muscle in his jaw working sporadically. "Fossil shells," he said with no emotion. "So what?"
She took a deep breath and looked down at the mixture of crushed shell and rock that they were standing on. "Why don't you come on up and take a look?" she suggested lightly, heading down the beach to the path that led back up to the rise.
'Tom, this is Rafe Armstrong," she said quickly, noting the look Rafe cast as she used the name he was famous for. Now he knew she recognized him. "Tom's a trained paleontologist."
The two men shook hands warily.
"Paleontology—that's the study of prehistoric life, isn't it?" Rafe said in a voice that almost accused.
"You got it," Tom replied evenly.
Rafe looked down at the chalky area that Tom had blocked off with string. "And what's this? Some rare evidence that's going to clear up the riddles of the dawn of time?"
Tom grunted a positive response. "Ammonites." He picked up a handful and displayed the shell fragments for them both to see. "Quite a rich cache of them."
Rafe picked one up and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, studying it as though he knew what he was seeing. Holding it up to the light, he stared at it for another long minute.
Thawn watched him, wishing she dared offer to get him her jacket from the car. He looked so cold, standing in the cool breeze wearing only that strip of cloth. She admired the way he stood, legs apart, body lean and muscular, like an athlete in his prime. She forced herself to look away.
He handed the fossil back to Tom. "Looks like any old shell to me," he said stiffly. "I could find you a dozen like it down in the waves right now."
Tom shook his head. "Oh no, you couldn't," he answered quietly. "These little buggers have been extinct for millions of years."
Rafe cast a disparaging glance down at the ground before them. "Personally," he ventured stonily, "they can stay extinct for all I care. What possible good can they do for anyone now?"
"Ammonites ruled the seas during part of the Mesozoic era. Some of these coiled shells were huge. Imagine a snail larger than a man." Tom's enthusiasm was irresistible to Thawn, but it seemed to leave Rafe cold. "Fossil finds like this are very useful for zonal correlations," Tom went on, his tone growing slightly belligerent. "Age dating of the strata. Geologic mapping of the area."
Rafe stared at him for what seemed like forever; then he grinned. "Great," he said carelessly. "Go ahead and age date. Go ahead and map. I'm going to get dressed."
He strode off to his trailer, the wet suit slung over one shoulder. Thawn noticed again the power he seemed to hold in reserve, carefully conserving what he used for every step.
She wondered if the woman was still waiting for him. Maybe he'd sent her back to Hollywood. But she pushed that hope away. What did she care? He meant nothing to her.
She went back to work, though it was difficult to keep her mind on it now. As she moved about the landscape, she forgot all about her companion.
"You two certainly got awful friendly awful fast." Tom's voice, coming close behind, made her jump.
She turned to face him slowly, not knowing how to respond to his resentful accusation. For some reason she felt she owed him an explanation.
"It's just funny how these things happen sometimes," she tried, knowing how weak her statement was. "It's not anyone's fault. It just seems as if an action occurs that no one plans, a sort of accident..."
Tom snorted and bent down, returning to his work. "What I saw was no accident, Thawn," he said gruffly. "With a guy like him, it's second nature."<
br />
Thawn's hands suddenly felt very cold, and she rubbed them against her sweater.
"I just don't like to see you set yourself up to fall again," he went on, his head bowed over the chalky earth. "And with that sort of man, it's inevitable."
He was only saying what she'd been telling herself all along, but suddenly she felt she had to defend Rafe.
"How do you know that?" she protested hotly. "How do you know what sort of man he is? You've just barely met him."
The look Tom threw her from beneath his shaggy hair was pained. "Come on, Thawn," he said softly, "I know what he did to you before—"
"You do not! This isn't the same man. What do I have to say to prove it to you?"
He shook his head and picked up a white shell, dropping it carefully into a paper bag on which he had written a full explanation of its source and preliminary classification.
"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you let this sort of thing happen because you like it?" His voice was sharp, as though he were saying the words to hurt her.
Thawn turned to him in shock. "What on earth are you talking about?" she demanded.
"You." He rose and faced her, his mouth turned down in anger. "You, and the way you seem to be drawn to the kind of man who will walk all over you. What are you, some sort of masochist? Do you enjoy being hit on? Because you sure seem to ask for it."
She stared at him, furious. "Don't you dare speak to me like that!" she hissed at him. "What do you know about what I ask for? What gives you the right to insult me like this?"
She was ready to stamp off, but regret was already flooding his face.
"Thawn." He reached out and took her shoulders in his huge, bearlike hands. "I'm sorry. Really."
He pulled her close against his wide chest. The feeling was friendly and comforting, and she didn't draw away.
"It's just that I care about you, honey. And I wish there was something 1 could do to keep you from getting hurt." He stroked her hair. "If I had the right, I would take you so far from that guy—"
A scrunching sound on the sand indicated Rafe's return, and they sprang guiltily apart. Immediately Thawn regretted it. There was certainly no reason they should feel embarrassed about their platonic embrace.
Rafe's eyes were dark and unreadable. He'd changed into black slacks and a crisp white shirt that looked like business attire. It was obvious he didn't plan to dig around in the dirt with them.
"Do you want to explain just what you're planning to do here?" he asked. To Thawn's relief, his question was directed to Tom. She was free to drift away to do her own work.
She wanted to stay out of earshot. She wanted to ignore Rafe Armstrong and return to the way things had been a day or so before, when he had been only a vague memory and a name that appeared regularly in the newspapers. But even while a part of her was absorbed in her work, her eyes seemed to turn of their own accord to gaze at him. Then she broke the point on her pencil and discovered that her only pen was out of ink. She headed back to the car for the supplies she kept there.
Walking swiftly, she detoured around the rise and strode through the clump of cypress that lined the little ravine along one side of the property. She'd almost reached the clearing again when a sudden flash of color caught her eye and she stopped, staring intently through the branches of the nearest tree.
A woman was walking through the grove from the other side. Though Thawn couldn't make out her features, she was sure it was the woman who'd greeted Rafe the day before at the trailer.
The woman saw Thawn at almost the same instant.
Thawn sensed her panic even at this distance, and in a moment, with a whirl of dark brown hair, the woman disappeared among the brush.
How strange, Thawn thought, narrowing her eyes and staring at the empty spot. Why would she be so shy?
But the probable reason came to mind quickly enough. Of course. She didn't want the world to know that she was hiding away with Rafe Armstrong. It was another version of the same old story.
Thawn mused upon the woman's identity. She didn't look much like the decorative beauties with whom Rafe usually caroused.
Maybe she was the star of his last picture. Or the wife of the star. Or the daughter of the major financial backer, someone with a place and dignity of her own, but also someone with a lot to lose if her sojourn here were to become public knowledge.
Thawn got a handful of pencils from the car and returned to her work site, trying not to look to see if Rafe was still with Tom. But out of the corner of her eye she could tell that her friend was all alone. She couldn't resist a quick glance at the trailer.
She'd actually stopped to stare at it, wondering if Rafe was inside, when his voice came from behind her. "You're looking in the wrong direction." His flat tone turned her to stone. "I'm right behind you."
She turned slowly, her face hot with angry embarrassment. "How do you know I was looking for you?" she challenged, but he ignored her question.
His eyes were as cold as tempered steel, and his jaw was set with determination. He wasted no time in getting right to the point.
"Are you going to restrain that boyfriend of yours," he shot at her, "or am I going to end up in court trying to fight having my property declared a natural preserve?"
She licked her lips nervously. "A fossil site like this is rare for this area," she began, but an ugly expletive torn from his lips stopped her.
"This land has been in my family since Spanish days," he said harshly. "I've been paying exorbitant taxes on it for years. And now that I finally have plans to use it, all of a sudden it's a national monument." He shook his head slowly. "I don't buy it, Thawn. And I won't sit still for it."
She returned his glare, hoping she didn't look as shaken by his anger as she felt. He tossed his hair back from his forehead in disgust.
"Play your little games if you must," he said tensely. "But just remember that I can play hardball with the best of them." He made a gesture as though to leave her. "I've got a business meeting in San Luis Obispo. We'll talk more about this later."
Not if she could help it. Not if she saw him coming. "Who's the woman in your trailer?"
Immediately she regretted her words.
He turned back quickly and stared at her eyes with fierce intensity. "What woman?" he asked softly, but it was an obvious stall.
She shrugged. "You know very well what woman. The one you brought up here to spend a cozy seaside encounter with."
Did her voice sound as vindictive to him as it did to her? Anyone listening would almost think she was jealous.
The fire that leaped in his eyes seared her nerves, but she held his gaze boldly. "That woman is no concern of yours." His voice was still soft, but with the softness of confident menace. She felt a chill in response.
"I was just wondering why she seemed so afraid of company."
His cheeks flushed with anger, and she felt herself backing away as though in fear of physical danger. "Leave her alone," he ordered harshly. "If either one of you bothers her..."
He stopped, glared once more, then started to turn away again.
"Wait a minute." What was the matter with her? Why couldn't she seem to let him leave?
"What is it?"
"I can't keep this." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the lump of jade and held it out to him. He stared at it for a long moment, then took it from her.
"What's the problem?" he asked tightly. "Afraid someone might consider it a bribe?"
Her brown eyes were wide as she gazed up into his dark face. "What did you consider it?"
His mouth twisted in mock amusement. "Only a very small down payment, surely."
Anger sparked through her. "Why do you assume that everyone has a price?" she demanded.
He shrugged his wide shoulders. "It's been my experience that everyone does."
Somewhere deep inside she realized that his cynicism was very close to her own, but she couldn't admit that right then. They weren't talking about other peopl
e. They were talking about her.
"I don't," she insisted stoutly. "Nothing you do will have any effect on the outcome of my report."
Then his hard hand was cradling her jaw and moving over the plane of her throat, the fingers slipping just beneath the soft neck of her sweater to trail a line of sensation along her collarbone.
"What a shame," he murmured, and the current that ran between them was almost a physical thing. Her eyes seemed to drown in his, and she knew she wanted him badly and that he desired her, despite the anger that raged between them.
Then he was gone, striding off toward the trailer. Thawn’s skin tingled where his hand had touched her. She stood watching, and in a moment a metallic-silver Jaguar slid out from behind his mobile home, sending out a plume of dust as it roared off toward the highway.
Chapter 4
Thawn sat curled up on her cushioned window seat looking through the tall, beveled panes of glass over the gray sea. June had come and gone, and still the heavy coastal fog hung on. Inland, it was hot, hot, hot, but out here, you wouldn’t even know it was summer.
She could close her eyes and imagine the Fourth of July picnics of her small town youth youth, people lying in the sun enjoying fat red chunks of watermelon while their kids shrieked and splashed in swimming pools or at the lake. Those lazy, hazy days!
Meanwhile she was still wearing sweaters until noon and searching the sky for the sun every day. It was great not to have the high heat, but you paid for it in other ways.
Her porch was her face to the world. Its cedar rails and rough floorboards had long ago turned gray in the cold, sea-driven winds, but she hadn't wanted to cover the natural effects of aging with decorative stain. Instead she enhanced their beauty with hanging plants and pieces of driftwood dragged up from the shore. Creeping charley and flowering clover hung all around, a natural curtain between her and the outside world.
She rose and padded through the house, enjoying the swish of her full-sleeved caftan as it fell against her long legs. The deep purple color went perfectly with her mood, but she was going to have to change if she was going to go to the market. Her refrigerator was looking pretty empty.