He watched her expressive face, his own a mask. Then he leaned back in his chair, his voice suffused with anger. "I see."
Leslie felt her face grow white as she forced herself to meet his granite glare. "You don't see, Steve." There was an air of despair about her as she pleaded with her eyes for him to understand. "I trust you—believe me, it isn't that." Her voice was so hollow she barely recognized it as her own.
He leaned forward and caught her clenched hands, in his. "Then why won't you tell me what's wrong?"
There was another long disturbing silence as Leslie tried to subdue the butterflies in her stomach. "I'm feeling totally overwhelmed and more than a little scared," she managed at last. "Ramco is prepared to invest millions of dollars on an exploration program based on my research."
She started to tremble as the fear became a gigantic wave rising within her. "Steve, what if I'm wrong?"
Steve's face suddenly relaxed into a warm smile and he squeezed her hands. "But, Dwarf, what if you're right?" He paused for a moment, studying her elfin face. "Your research is the most thorough I've ever seen. You've put a thousand pieces together that others have overlooked or discounted, and you've presented us with a very positive picture." He reached across the small table and caught her chin in his hand. "Something else, Les. In the oil patch, you have to be prepared to take risks. The only way you find gas or oil is by drilling for it. The companies that aren't sweating a little aren't taking any big chances—they're running in a comfortable rut without the challenges, without the excitement, without the element of risk." His voice was deep with sincerity.
She smiled weakly, her brow furrowed, her eyes dark with trepidation. "That may be true, but the magnitude of this project still frightens me."
Steve leaned forward and rested his arms on the table as he studied her. "You really don't believe in your own ability, do you?"
Leslie shook her head, her face dominated by her wide dark eyes. "But do I have any ability? Luther Denver felt this whole thing was insane."
"He really did a number on you, didn't he?"
Leslie tensed as a new wave of uneasiness washed over her. What had ever possessed her to mention Luther? What would Steve think if he knew that the unscrupulous man was her stepfather?
Steve sensed her distress and squeezed her hands again. "Leslie, would you tell me what actually happened when you quit Denver Oil?"
Leslie's mind raced. She was fairly certain that Ted had outlined the sequence of events that had led up to their joint resignations. There was no harm in telling Steve what had happened at her private meeting with Luther, and what had transpired at the board meeting later. She was more certain now than ever that she didn't want him to know of the family ties.
In a subdued and slightly halting voice, she told him everything that had happened.
Steve's silent reaction seemed to be one of suppressed anger. He was still resting his arms on the table, but his thumbs idly caressed the backs of her hands as he scrutinized her face. "I see. Has your family been supportive during all this?"
Leslie felt as though some gigantic hand had squeezed every ounce of breath out of her. How could he have such keen perception where she was concerned? He seemed to be continually aware of her thoughts, leaving her few barriers for protection.
*'Leslie, I don't like it when you won't answer me." His voice was soft and unthreatening, but there was more than a trace of determination in it.
Leslie sighed in defeat. She had never discussed her home situation with anyone. Strangely, she didn't mind telling Steve, but she didn't know how to phrase the facts without sounding petty.
She couldn't suppress the spasm of pain that quivered through her. It was not going to be an easy thing to do. "My family is not a close one. I'm illegitimate, and I'm afraid I was always an awkward and bitter reminder of a past my mother would have preferred to forget. She married when I was five, but my stepfather disliked children. I was never close to either of them."
She saw Steve's jaw flex, and his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. "So you were alone."
"Except for my grandfather. My grandfather was very special, Steve. He always had time for me. I missed him dreadfully when he died."
"How long ago was that?"
"Six years."
Steve said nothing for a moment, then he looked up at her, his eyes serious. "You once said that your career was very important to you. Why is that?"
"I need to know I have some value—that I can be productive and worthwhile, I guess."
There was a long silence as he continued to stroke her hand. Then Leslie went on, "I suppose that's the only way anyone can develop self-confidence, and self-confidence is a very real part of contentment. Maybe I'm wrong." There was a touch of panic in her voice as she added, "That's one of the reasons this project scares me so."
"Look, Leslie, I wasn't too certain that I was being particularly objective about this scheme," Steve said. "That's why I asked Uncle John to fly in and do an evaluation. I wanted his unbiased opinion. He feels that there is more than adequate evidence, supported by technical data, to go with it—so we go. It's my baby now."
Leslie grimaced, her voice dismal. "Then we'd better pray your baby is a gassy one, or we'll both get hung!"
Steve tipped his head back and laughed, then reached across the table and tousled her hair. "Don't worry, Dwarf, we can always outrun the posse!"
VERY LATE THAT NIGHT Leslie lay in bed, staring blankly at the blackness of the ceiling as she tried to rationalize her feelings for Steve. But there was no rationale, there was no logic; she loved him. There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in her mind that, like it or not, she was totally and unequivocally committed to this man.
She knew in her mind that someone like Steve McRory would never fall in love with a woman who wasn't self-possessed and mature. And she was still inexperienced in so many ways.
She knew, too, that no matter how hard she tried, there would be no way her mind could ever control her heart. She would just have to accept what the days ahead held in store for her. But she would continue to dream, for she loved him, and God, how she wanted him.
Leslie groaned and rolled over on her stomach, burying her face in her folded arms. It was frightening to admit that she had absolutely no resistance to his brand of magnetism, that she would willingly submit to any demands he made of her. There would be no limitations from her, for she could deny him nothing. If, by some twist of fate, they did become involved in an affair—and if she became pregnant—she wouldn't experience the intense regret her mother had. She would know pain and terrible loneliness, perhaps even guilt, but she would never, never regret it.
She knew all this to be cold truth, without embellishment, without coloration. She loved him totally, completely, unconditionally. She was his to do with as he chose. Her course was cast.
CHAPTER SIX
THE NEXT MORNING Leslie was sitting cross-legged on the map table, putting the finishing touches on the massive cross-section map of the Redwillow geologic structure. This map was the crucial one, for it identified the deep basin. The information had been gathered from a variety of sources—the electric well logs of other companies who had drilled unsuccessfully in the area; Leslie's own painstaking geological detective work; seismographic studies.
Much time and a substantial amount of money had been saved by Steve's idea—of studying the data from old wells that had been drilled some twenty years before. At that time petroleum companies had been concerned only with discovering oil, and until now, no one had thought to use the records in a search for natural gas. Bits and pieces of the information had indeed come together like a massive jigsaw puzzle.
Leslie was so engrossed in her task that she was completely unaware Steve sat behind his desk, silently watching her. His brows were knitted in a frown as he toyed absently with a drafting pencil.
She had dark circles under her eyes that spoke clearly of a sleepless night, and there was an air of quiet resolve about he
r that he had never noticed before. It was obvious to him that she had come to terms with something that troubled her deeply.
He sighed heavily and tossed the pencil onto his desk, then stood up and walked over to the table. "Nearly done, Dwarf?"
Leslie nodded her head. "I should have it completed by this afternoon. It really was a stroke of genius, suggesting we dig up the records on those old wells—it's given us much more information to work with." She straightened up and stretched her cramped muscles as she smiled up at him. "Now if you can find that outcrop of beach conglomerate to support all this data, we'll be in business."
"You mean 'we.' "
Leslie's expression was quizzical as she studied his face. "We what?"
"We—you and I—are going to find that outcrop. We're flying to Grande Prairie tomorrow, and I have a helicopter booked for Saturday and Sunday."
Leslie's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Me?"
"You."
She started to crawl off the table, taking particular care not to crease the map. Steve spanned her waist with his hands and lifted her off, then stood her before him. He draped his arms casually across her shoulders and grinned down into eyes wide with surprise.
"What's the matter, Dwarf?"
Leslie shook her head in confusion. "But why me? I thought— You said—"
Steve tipped his head to one side, his eyes dancing. "I said we'd use you for the preliminary research, and this is preliminary research."
Leslie looked into his piercing blue eyes, her thoughts a whirl of confusion. To spend three days with Steve would be heaven, but she had to be honest with herself, as well as with him. "But Steve, I've had no experience in this type of aerial survey. I could miss something an experienced geologist would spot. Don't you think..?"
His eyes narrowed, and his face became guarded as he dropped his hands from her shoulders and sauntered back to his desk. His voice was casual. "Would you rather not go?"
There was nothing in the whole world she wanted more. She followed him and laid her hand on his arm, her eyes dark with distress. "I want to more than anything else, but I'm trying to be logical and realistic. And I..." She halted, uncertain how to express her other concern.
Steve turned to face her, his face unreadable. "And what?" She glanced up at him, then lowered her eyes, toying nervously with the buttons on her jacket. Steve lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him. "And what, Leslie?"
She shrugged, with a gesture that showed her embarrassment and shyness. "I don't want you to feel obligated to take me...you know."
"No, I don't know."
"Well, I don't want you to think you have to give me a big red balloon because I've been a good girl." She fidgeted uncomfortably under Steve's unwavering gaze and a flush of acute embarrassment stained her cheeks.
His eyes began to crinkle at the corners as a slow smile softened his face. "Well, I never would have looked at it from that exact perspective, but now that you've mentioned it..." His eyes were filled with warm amusement as he caressed her cheek with his knuckles. "But that's exactly why I want you to go. You've worked very hard on this and you've done an excellent job." He smiled again, his eyes gleaming. "So why shouldn't you have a red balloon for being such a good girl?"
Leslie had no idea how appealing she looked, her eyes wide with wonder, her face flushed with anticipation. Steve's gaze riveted on her moist parted lips, and slowly he lowered his head. Leslie swayed against him, then raised her mouth to meet his. It was a soft gentle kiss, but it aroused an aching desire in her that inflamed her senses.
She slipped her arms around his neck as he pressed her against him. His mouth moved against hers, slowly, sensuously searching; then he probed the recesses with his tongue. Her heart was pounding wildly and she was fighting for breath when he finally lifted his head and buried his face in her hair. Gathering her closer against his muscular frame, he held her with tenderness until the trembling in her body ceased. Leslie closed her eyes and savored the feel of him.
With a sigh, Steve slid his hands up her back and across her shoulders, then laid them around her neck, his fingers buried in her hair. Gently he eased her away and gave her another soft fleeting kiss. His eyes were glittering with desire and a touch of humor as he smiled down at her. "We could spend the rest of the afternoon rather involved in this most pleasant pastime, but if you want your red balloon tomorrow, that map has to be finished today."
Leslie smiled as she reluctantly withdrew her arms from around his neck. "Slave driver!'' With an exaggerated sigh she climbed back on the table and began to transpose the data they had collected onto the map.
For a while Steve stood behind her with his hands rammed in the back pockets of his jeans, gazing at her reflectively. Finally he straightened and moved closer to her, sitting down on the edge of the table. "Why did you ever select geology, Leslie?''
Leslie looked up at him, a half smile on her face although her brow furrowed questioningly. Then suddenly she laughed. "Are you suggesting, indirectly, of course, that I should have made a living coloring maps?"
Steve grinned at her and flipped the end of her nose with the back of his forefinger. "Don't be impertinent!" Then he angled her a questioning look, his face serious. "No, really. Now that I know you better, it bewilders me that you could be wrapped up in something so cold and scientific."
Leslie's head shot up and her eyes widened with incredulity. "Oh, but it isn't that way at all! It isn't cold and scientific, it's...it's exciting and mysterious." She smoothed the map with her hand. "Look. You can stand on the most innocuous little knoll and see nothing but the surface. But then you begin studying what's three or five or fifteen thousand feet beneath you, and it's like opening up the most marvelous book. It's fascinating! You can discover what happened at that exact spot thousands of years before—and you can see what happened, what took place." Leslie's face was radiant, her eyes shining with excitement as she gestured at the map beneath her. "Look at this, Steve, just look at it. Because we know how to read it, the earth has revealed to us a secret that no one else knows about. It's so amazing..."
Leslie suddenly halted; she must sound absolutely ridiculous! She glanced up at Steve and found him watching her with an almost confounded look on his face. She could practically hear what he was thinking. Leslie dropped her head abruptly as a scarlet flush of mortification raced over her.
Here he was, prepared to sink millions of dollars into an exploration program, and she was rhapsodizing about the magic of geology like some half-wit. The familiar feeling that always swamped her after she had done something stupid pressed down on her.
Steve caught her face between his two strong hands and gently forced it upward. He winced slightly when he saw her expression. Smiling warmly he caressed her quivering lips with his thumbs. "Hey, Les, don't ever be ashamed because you see things differently. Your special vision probably gives you that extra insight that makes you so damned good at your job." The smile broadened into a devilish grin as he stated in a thick Irish brogue, "As Uncle John said, lass, ye are one of the enchantresses. One expects a wee bit of magic from them, the little people."
An indescribable warmth radiated through Leslie. If she hadn't loved Steve McRory before, she would have fallen in love with him then. She looked up at him and smiled shyly. Her voice was a faint whisper as she mimicked his Irish lilt. "I'll be thankin' ye, McRory, for believin' in the little people."
He bent over and kissed her, his breath warm against her lips as he whispered huskily, "You are most welcome, Dwarf."
His voice was tinged with some emotion that Leslie couldn't identify, but it didn't matter. He might not love her, but he was able to accept her as she was, and that gave Leslie's spirits a glorious lift.
LESLIE WOKE UP ABRUPTLY, jarred awake by a small sound that was alien, yet expected. It wasn't until a car door slammed outside that the haze of sleep cleared. She glanced at her bedside clock—six o'clock! That noise that had awakened her was Steve arriving
to pick her up. Of all mornings to sleep in!
She bounced out of bed and grabbed up the red Chinese caftan laying on the foot of her bed. She slipped it over her head, shivering as the cold heavy silk slithered down her naked body, then raced down the hall. She nearly fell headlong down the stairs when she tripped on the hem.
Breathless and disheveled, she yanked open the front door just as Steve was reaching out to ring the doorbell. She made a grimace of apology as she motioned him in and closed the door softly behind him. "I slept in..."
He studied her attire, his eyes gleaming with speculation as he smiled at her in a way that made her breath catch. "I'm glad to hear that. For a moment I thought you were planning on wearing that on the plane." He leaned against the banister and let his gaze slide down her body with a thoroughness that left her feeling decidedly weak. "I must admit, you look spectacular, Leslie, but it would be most distracting for the pilot.''
Leslie blushed, then silently cursed that weakness for the millionth time. How could she ever appear poised and cool when she blushed like an adolescent?
She lifted her chin brazenly. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm totally covered."
"And most delectably, too." He reached out and combed his fingers through her tousled hair. "You are so damned tempting, Leslie." His voice was a husky seductive lure, drawing her to him with a power that she could not defy. He kissed her softly, and his hands gently caressed the nape of her neck. Leslie whispered a soft protest as he drew his mouth away from hers.
"You don't have anything on under that, do you?"
She shook her head mutely as he stroked her lips with his fingertips. His voice was soft and provocative, but there was a warning note in it. "Then, my lovely, I suggest you hie yourself up those stairs and get dressed very rapidly, or I won't hold myself accountable for my actions."
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