Granite Man m-4

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “Clumsy?” Mariah laughed. “If you’re clumsy, I’m a trout.”

  “Then you’re in trouble, honey. I’m still hungry.”

  “I’m a very, very young trout.”

  Cash smiled grimly. “Yeah. I keep reminding myself of that. You’re what

  … twenty-two?”

  Startled by the unexpected question, Mariah nodded.

  “I teach grad students who are older than you,” Cash said, his tone disgusted.

  “So?”

  “So quit looking at me with those big golden eyes and wondering what it would be like to kiss me.”

  Mariah’s first impulse was to deny any such thoughts. Her second was the same. Her third was embarrassment that she was so transparent.

  “You see,” Cash said flatly, pinning Mariah with a look, “I’m wondering the same thing about you. But I’m not a college kid. If I start kissing you, I’m going to want more than a little taste of all that honey. I’m going to want everything you have to give a man, and I’m going to want it until I’m too damn tired to lick my lips. I get hard just watching you breathe, so teasing me into kissing you would be a really dumb idea, unless you’re ready to quit playing and start screwing around.” He watched Mariah’s face, muttered something harsh under his breath, and threw a big handful of pine needles into the pot. “Call and raise you.”

  “I d-don’t have that many needles.”

  “Then you lose, don’t you?” he asked. And he waited.

  How much is a kiss worth?

  Mariah didn’t speak the words aloud. She didn’t have to. She knew without asking that a kiss would be worth every needle in the whole forest. In electric silence she looked at Cash’s mouth with a hunger she had never felt before. The days of beard stubble enhanced rather than detracted from the smooth masculine invitation of his lips. And he was watching her with eyes that burned. He had meant his warning. If she teased him into kissing her, she had better be prepared for a lot more than a kiss.

  The thought both shocked and fascinated Mariah. She had never wanted a man before. She wanted Cash now. She wanted to be kissed by him, to feel his arms around her, to feel his strength beneath her hands. But she had never been a man’s lover before. She wasn’t sure she was ready tonight, and Cash had made it very clear that there would be no way for her to test the water without getting in over her head.

  “I guess I lose,” Mariah whispered. “But it isn’t fair.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “Not even one kiss, when you must have kissed a hundred other women.”

  “Don’t bet on it. I’m very particular about who gets close to me.” Abruptly Cash closed his eyes against the yearning, tentative flames of desire in Mariah’s golden glance. “The game is over, Mariah. Go to bed. Now.”

  Without a word Mariah abandoned her cards, rushed to her feet and began arranging her blankets for the night. After only a few moments she was ready for bed. She kicked out of her shoes, crawled into the cold nest she had made and began shivering. The first few minutes in bed at night, and the first few out of it in the morning, were the coldest parts of the day.

  Cash stood up and moved around the cabin, listening to the rain. When he had checked all the pans he turned off the lantern and knelt to bank the fire. Although Mariah tried not to watch him, it was impossible. Firelight turned his hair to molten gold and caressed his face the way she wanted to. Closing her eyes, shivering, she gripped the blankets even more tightly, taking what warmth she could from them.

  “Here.”

  Mariah’s eyes snapped open. Cash was looming above her. His hands moved as he unfurled a piece of cloth and pulled it over her. One side of the cloth was a metallic silver. The other was black.

  “What is it?”

  “Something developed by NASA,” Cash said. He knelt next to Mariah and began tucking the odd blanket around her with hard, efficient movements. “It works as good on earth as it does in space. Reflects heat back so efficiently I damn near cook myself if I use it. I just bring it along for emergencies. If I’d known earlier how cold you were, I’d have given it to you.”

  Mariah couldn’t have answered if her life depended on it. Even with blankets in the way, the feel of Cash’s hands moving down her sides as he tucked in the odd cloth was wonderful.

  Suddenly Cash shifted. His hands flattened on the floor on either side of Mariah’s head. He watched her mouth with an intensity that left her weak. Slowly his head lowered until he was so close she could taste his breath, feel his heat, sense the hard beating of his heart.

  “Cash…?” she whispered.

  His mouth settled over hers, stealing her breath, sinking into her so slowly she couldn’t tell when the kiss began. At the first touch of his tongue, she made a tiny sound in her throat. A shudder ripped through Cash, yet his gradual claiming of Mariah’s mouth didn’t hasten. Gently, inevitably, he turned his head, opening soft feminine lips that were still parted over the sighing of his name. The velvet heat of Mariah’s mouth made him dizzy. The tiny sounds she made at the back of her throat set fire to him. He rocked his head back and forth until her mouth was completely his, and then he drank deeply of her, holding the intimate kiss until her breathing was as broken and rapid as his own. Only then did he lift his head.

  “You’re right,” Cash said hoarsely. “It isn’t fair.”

  There was a rapid movement, then the sound of Cash climbing fully clothed into his sleeping bag.

  It was a long time before either of them got to sleep.

  9

  Mariah sat on a sun-warmed boulder and watched Cash pan for gold in one of the nameless small creeks along the Devil’s Peak watershed. Sunlight fell over the land in a silent golden outpouring that belied the chilly summer night to come. Stretching into the warmth, smiling, Mariah relished the clean air and the sun’s heat and the feeling of happiness that had grown within her until she found herself wanting to laugh and throw her arms out in sheer pleasure.

  The first days at the line shack had been hard, but after that it had been heaven. By the sixth day Mariah no longer awoke stiff every morning from a night on the hard floor and Cash no longer looked for excuses not to take her prospecting. By the eleventh day Mariah no longer questioned the depth of her attraction to Cash. She simply accepted it as she accepted lightning zigzagging through darkness or sunlight infusing the mountains with summer’s heat.

  Or the way she had accepted that single, incredible kiss.

  Since then, Cash had been very careful to avoid touching Mariah but his restraint only made him more compelling to her senses. She had known men who wouldn’t have hesitated to push her sexually if they had sensed such a deep response on her part. The fact that Cash didn’t press for more was a sign to Mariah that he, too, cherished the glittering emotion that was weaving between the two of them, growing stronger with each shared laugh, each shared silence, drawing them closer and closer each day, each hour, each minute. Their closeness was becoming as tangible as the water swirling in Cash’s gold pan, a transparent, fluid beauty stripping away the ordinary to reveal the gleaming gold beneath.

  Shivering with a delicious combination of pleasure and anticipation each time she looked at Cash, Mariah told herself to be as patient as he was. When Cash was as certain of the strength of their emotion as she was, he would come to her again, ask for her again.

  And this time she would say yes.

  “Find anything?” Mariah asked, knowing the answer, wanting to hear Cash’s voice anyway.

  She loved the sound of it, loved seeing the flash of Cash’s smile, loved the masculine pelt that had grown over his cheeks after eleven days without a razor, loved seeing the flex and play of muscles in his arms, loved… him.

  “Nope. If the mine is up this draw, nothing washed down into the creek. I’ll try a few hundred yards farther up, just to be sure.”

  Before Cash could flip the gritty contents of the pan back into the small creek, Mariah bent over his shoulder, bracing herself agai
nst his strength while she stirred through the gold pan with her fingertip. After a time she lifted her hand and examined her wet fingertip. No black flakes stuck to the small ridges on the pad of her finger. No gold ones stuck, either.

  Mariah didn’t care. She had already found what she sought – a chance to touch the man who had become the center of her world.

  “Oh, well,” she said. “There’s always the next pan.”

  Cash smiled and watched while Mariah absently dried her fingertip on her jeans. A familiar heat pulsed through him as he looked at her. The desire he had felt the first time he saw her had done nothing but get deeper, hotter, harder. Despite the persistent ache of arousal, Cash had never enjoyed prospecting quite so much as he had in the past week. Mariah was enjoying it, too. He could see it in her smile, hear it in her easy laughter.

  And she wanted him. He could see that, too, the desire in her eyes, a golden warmth that approved of everything he did, everything he said, every breath he took. He knew his eyes followed her in the same way, approving of every feminine curve, every golden glance, every breath, everything. He wanted her with a near-violent hunger he had never experienced before. All that kept him from taking what she so clearly wanted to give him was the bitter experience of the past, when he had so needed to believe a woman’s lies that he had allowed her to make a fool of him. Yet no matter how closely Cash looked for cracks in Mariah’s facade of warmth and vulnerability, so far he had found none.

  It should have comforted him. It did not. Cash was very much afraid that his inability to see past Mariah’s surface to the inevitable female calculation beneath was more a measure of how much he wanted her than it was a testimony to Mariah’s innate truthfulness.

  But God, how he wanted her.

  Cash came to his feet in a swift, coordinated movement that startled Mariah.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No gold here,” Cash said curtly. He secured the gold pan to his backpack with quick motions. “We might as well head back. It’s too late to try the other side of the rise today.”

  Mariah looked at the downward arc of the sun. “Does that mean there will be time for Black Springs before dinner?”

  The eagerness in Mariah’s voice made Cash smile ruefully. He had been very careful not to go to the hot springs with Mariah if he could avoid it. He had enough trouble getting to sleep at night just remembering what she looked like bare-legged and wearing a windbreaker. He didn’t need visions of her in a wet bathing suit to keep him awake.

  “Sure,” he said casually. “You can soak while I catch dinner downstream.”

  Disappointed at the prospect of going to the springs alone, Mariah asked, “Aren’t you stiff after a day of crouching over ice water?”

  Cash shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

  Using a shortcut Cash had discovered, they took only an hour to get back to the line shack. While he picketed the horses in fresh grass, Mariah changed into her tank suit and windbreaker. When she appeared at the door of the cabin, Cash glanced up for only an instant before he lowered his head and went back to driving in picket stakes.

  With a disappointment she couldn’t conceal, Mariah started up the Black Springs path. After a hundred yards she turned around and headed back toward the cabin. Cash had just finished picketing the last horse when he spotted Mariah walking toward him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just decided it would be more fun to learn how to handle a gold pan than it would be to soak in an oversize hot tub.”

  Cash’s indigo glance traveled from the dark wisps of hair caressing Mariah’s face to the long, elegant legs that were naked of anything but sunlight.

  “Better get some more clothes on. The stream is a hell of a lot colder than Black Springs.”

  “I wasn’t planning on swimming.”

  “You’ll get wet anyway. Amateurs always do.”

  “But it’s hot. Look at you. You’re in shirtsleeves and you’re sweating.”

  He didn’t bother to argue that the sun wasn’t warm. If he had been alone, he would have been working stripped to the waist. But he wasn’t alone. He was with a woman he wanted, a woman who wanted him, a woman he was trying very hard to be smart enough not to take.

  “If you plan on learning how to pan for gold,” Cash said flatly, “you better get dressed for it.”

  Mariah threw up her hands and went back to the line shack before Cash changed his mind about teaching her how to pan for gold at all. She tore off the windbreaker and yanked on jeans over her shoes. Without looking, she grabbed a shirt off the pile of clothes that covered her blankets. She was halfway out the door before she realized that the shirt belonged to Cash. “Tough,” she muttered, yanking the soft navy flannel into place over her tank suit and fastening the snaps impatiently. “He wanted me to be dressed. I’m dressed. He didn’t say whose clothes I had to wear.”

  There was no point in fastening the shirt’s cuffs, which hung down well past her fingertips, just as the shoulders overhung hers by four inches on either side. The shirttails draped to her knees. Yet when Cash wore the shirt, it fit him without wrinkles or gaps.

  “Lord, but that man is big,” Mariah muttered. “It’s a good thing he doesn’t bite.”

  Impatiently she shoved the cuffs up well past her elbows, tied a hasty knot in the tails, grabbed the gold pan and shovel and ran back to where Cash was still working on the horses.

  “I’m ready,” Mariah said breathlessly.

  Cash looked up, blinked, tried not to smile and failed completely. He released the horse’s hoof he had been cleaning and stood up.

  “Next time, don’t wear such a tight shirt,” he said, deadpan.

  “Next time,” Mariah retorted, “don’t leave your tiny little shirt on my blankets when I’m in a hurry.”

  Snickering, Cash shook his head. “Let me get my fishing rod. We’ll start in the riffles way up behind the shack. The creek cuts through a nice grassy place just above the willow thicket. Grass will be a lot easier on your knees than gravel.”

  “Don’t you need gravel to pan gold?”

  “Only if you expect to find gold. You don’t. You’re just learning how to pan, remember?”

  “Boy, wouldn’t you be surprised if I found nuggets in that stream.”

  “Nope.”

  Mariah blinked. “You wouldn’t be surprised?”

  “Hell no, honey. I’d be dead of shock.”

  Her smile flashed an instant before her laughter glittered in the mountain silence, brighter than any gold Cash had ever found. Unable to resist touching her, he ruffled her hair with a brotherly gesture that was belied by the sudden heat and tension of his body. The reaction came every time he touched her, no matter how casually, which was why he tried not to touch her at all.

  Unfortunately for Cash’s peace of mind, there was no satisfactory way to teach Mariah how to pan for gold without touching her or at least getting so close to her that not touching was almost as arousing as touching would have been. The soft pad of grass beneath their feet, the liquid murmur of the brook and the muted rustle of nearby willows being stroked by the breeze did nothing to make the moment less sensually charged.

  Mariah’s own response to Cash’s closeness didn’t help ease the progress of the lessons at all. When he put his hands next to hers on the cold metal in order to demonstrate the proper panning technique, she forgot everything but the fact that Cash was close to her. Her motions became shaky rather than smooth, which defeated the whole point of the lessons.

  “It’s a good thing the pan is empty,” Cash muttered finally, watching Mariah try to imitate the easy swirling motion of proper panning. “The way you’re going at it, any water in that pan would be sprayed from hell to breakfast.”

  “It looks so easy when you do it,” Mariah said unhappily. “Why can’t I get the rhythm of it?”

  Cursing himself silently, knowing he shouldn’t do what he was about to do, Cash said, “Here, try it this way.”


  Before common sense could prevent him, he stepped behind Mariah, reached around her and put his hands over hers on the pan. He felt the shiver that went through her, bit back a searing word and got on with the lesson.

  “You can pan with either a clockwise or counterclockwise motion,” Cash said through clenched teeth. “Which do you prefer?”

  Mariah closed her eyes and tried to stifle the delicious shivering that came each time Cash brushed against her. Standing as close as they were, the sweet friction occurred each time either of them breathed.

  “Damn it, Mariah, wake up and concentrate! Which way do you want to pan?”

  “C-count.”

  “What?”

  “Counter.” She dragged in a ragged breath. “Counterclockwise.”

  With more strength than finesse, Cash moved his hands in counterclockwise motions, dragging Mariah’s hands along. The circles he made weren’t as smooth as usual, but they were a great improvement on what she had managed alone. The problem was that, standing as they were, Cash couldn’t help but breathe in Mariah’s fragile, elementally female fragrance. Nor could he prevent feeling her warmth all the way down to his knees.

  And if he kept standing so close to her, there would be a lot less innocent kind of touching that he couldn’t – or wouldn’t want to – prevent.

  Yet brushing against Mariah was so sweet that Cash couldn’t force himself to stop immediately. He continued to stand very close to her for several excruciating minutes, teaching her how to pan gold and testing the limits of his self-control at the same time. “That’s it,” Cash said abruptly, letting go of Mariah’s hands and stepping back. “You’re doing much better. I’m going fishing.” “But – how much water do I put in the pan?” Mariah asked Cash’s rapidly retreating back.

  “As much as you can handle without spilling,” he answered, not bothering to turn around.

  “And how much gravel?”

  There was no answer. Cash had stepped into the willow thicket and vanished.

  “Cash?”

  Nothing came back to Mariah but the sound of the wind.