“Look, Travis, I—”
“Now, we’ll need to put ‘em in water before they wilt. Uh, kitchen in here?”
“Yes, but—”
“Thought so.” He flicked on the light as Randi followed him helplessly into the kitchen, feeling like Dorothy caught in a tornado bound for Oz.
He headed for the sink. “This place come with any vases, sugar? ‘Course, an ol’ jar’ll do.” He began opening cabinets, rummaging. “Might even be better. Wildflowers look silly all gussied up in a…Ah, here we go.” He held up a mason jar. “What do you think?”
She was thinking she’d been run over by a blond sixfoot-five bulldozer, but the boyish query on the bulldozer’s face kept her from saying so. God, he looked so much like Matt when his brows lifted that way! With a helpless shrug, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Minutes later the bouquet was resting in water and set in the middle of the kitchen table. Fortunately the time it took to accomplish this had allowed Randi to sort out her thoughts. “They’re lovely, Travis, and I do thank you, but now I really have to ask you to-…”
Her words died on her tongue. He was looking at her in a way she recognized all too well. Too late, she remembered how she was dressed. In skimpy cutoffs and a T-shirt with nothing underneath.
She froze, all too aware of the cool breeze that ruffled the kitchen curtains, that made her nipples tighten and thrust against the soft fabric.
Travis caught her stiffened posture and dragged his eyes away, quickly focusing on a point above her head. The display had made his mouth go dry. Lord, she was something! High full breasts and legs that didn’t quit. Did she have any idea how she…
But of course she did. And for some crazy reason, she was suddenly strung tighter than a kite. She wasn’t merely uncomfortable, either. Dammit, she was terrified!
Deeply puzzled, he nonetheless sensed this was no time to ponder her reaction. So switch gears, McLean!
“I swear I’m as thirsty as those flowers,” he managed in a casual tone. “Okay if I have a glass of water?”
Without waiting for a reply, he moved to the sink, opening a cabinet beside it to grab a glass. “Tell you what, darlin’,” he went on, not looking at her as he turned on the faucet and filled a tumbler. “It’s a perfect evenin’ for a stroll on the beach. A might chilly, though. Why don’t you go put on somethin’ warm ‘n’ help me sample some of that salty air?”
Randi leapt at the chance to escape. Without thinking, she murmured something about a pair of sweats and hurried from the kitchen. In the bedroom, she was pulling a baggy sweatshirt and pants out of a drawer when the realization hit: she’d accepted an invitation she ought to have rejected.
She’d give a lot to know how he’d managed it. She’d been set on saying no, and before she knew it, he had her saying yes. With a sigh, she pulled on the sweats and made a mental note to be more on her guard.
As for tonight, she supposed there was no harm in a walk on the beach. Maybe it was the least she could do, what with that lovely bouquet. Wildflowers. Who’d have thought it? From a man who dodged bullets for a living. As surprising as snow in August.
“DO YOU EVER HAVE second thoughts about giving up medicine?” Randi asked as she and Travis strolled along the water’s edge.
Silvery light from the half-moon that had risen limned his features as he glanced down at her, and she saw him smile. Sadly? she wondered. Moonlight was tricky, and she couldn’t be sure.
“I’d be lyin’ if I said no regrets,” he told her. “A man doesn’t spend years of his life preparin’ for somethin’, then abandon it without payin’ a price. Sure, I’ve had regrets. But I’ve never let myself dwell on ‘em. There’s a lot in the practice of medicine that’s rewardin’, but so’s the alternative I chose.”
“The CIA?” she said skeptically. “But medicine’s about saving lives.” She shook her head. “From all I’ve heard and read, the CIA—”
“—has saved countless lives, or I wouldn’t be there. Whatever its reputation with the general public—and the press—make no mistake about it, Randi, the Agency’s crucial to the national welfare. Workin’ there’s all about service to one’s country. It’s been vastly satisfyin’.”
“If you say so.” She still sounded skeptical.
He glanced at her with amusement. “Lord, woman, you are one hard sell!”
She laughed. “Well, you can’t blame me for—”
“Look out!” he yelled, and caught her hand as the tide sent a breaker rolling up the beach.
She yelped and gripped his hand as he pulled her away. Foaming salt water soaked her sneakers and kept on coming’ as they raced for safer ground.
“Damn, that’s cold!” Travis exclaimed, but he was laughing, and so was she.
“Can’t…can’t imagine…what makes…makes you say that!” she got out between gasps of laughter.
He gave a whoop. “Whoo—ee, lady, you sure are…”
The words faded as he saw her shiver. “Here,” he said, removing the windbreaker he’d retrieved from his car before they left. Wrapping it around her, he pulled her against him with one arm, using his free hand to rub her back.
“Better?” he murmured against the crown of her head. Her hair was incredibly soft and silky, and he caught a subtle scent of flowers.
She nodded, despite another shiver. But she wasn’t cold. His body heat enveloped her like a warm glove. Her senses swam as she leaned against the solid wall of his chest. “I—I’m fine,” she murmured unsteadily.
“You sure?” His voice had a faint huskiness. He could feel her curves through the sweats, was instantly reminded of the way she’d looked in the kitchen. Hell, he was getting hard.
Alerted by the change in his voice, Randi felt reality intrude. And then she felt it: an unmistakable pressure against her belly. Oh, God…
Clearing a throat that suddenly felt constricted, she pulled away. “I think we’d better be getting back.”
But she couldn’t move. He was looking down at her with a question in his eyes, and she knew he wanted to kiss her. What would it feel like? she wondered. His chiseled features washed by moonlight, he reminded her of some ancient pagan god, risen from the sea. Beautiful and terrible at the same time. She quelled another shiver.
Travis had every intention of kissing her. Hell, he wanted to do a lot more than kiss her, though it’d do for starters. He hadn’t been this turned on by a woman in a long time. Maybe never.
But something held him back. There was a wall here. He saw it in her eyes, her body language. For a simple kiss? At her age? What was with her?
Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to push the envelope. He was extremely attracted to Randi as a woman, but his main objective was forming a relationship with Matt. A lot was riding on this, and he had time on his side. He could wait.
“Okay, sugar,” he said with a gentle smile, and pressed a brotherly kiss to her forehead. “Let’s go.”
He was aware of a release of some of her tension as he draped an arm casually over her shoulders and turned her toward the cottage. He’d made the right decision.
As they headed back, Randi congratulated herself for keeping him at a distance. And wondered at the stab of disappointment she felt.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TRAVIS LEFT Randi at her door with nothing more intimate than another light kiss on the forehead. Which, of course, was a relief. She hadn’t known what to expect as they’d come up the walk, but she’d been apprehensive. He could make her feel like a moonstruck teenager. Not that she’d ever been such a teenager, which perhaps explained it.
She realized the night was still young as she let herself inside, but went straight to bed. Somehow the idea of reading into the wee hours had lost its allure. Sleeping till noon, moreover, seemed like a dumb idea. Why waste the beautiful weather holing up in bed?
Especially, she thought as she lay tossing and turning a couple of hours later, when she couldn’t sleep anyway.
&n
bsp; JILL CALLED the next day from Atlanta. She reported that Matt was excited and happy, getting a huge kick out of waving at the truck drivers they passed and the Dr. Seuss stories Jill played on the car’s tape deck.
And he still talked constantly about Travis.
“So here’s my advice,” Jill said, “though I’m afraid you’re not gonna like it. But I talked it over with David last night, and we agree it’s your best bet.”
“Wonderful,” Randi muttered. “I’ve got a situation I already don’t like, and my beloved sister tells me I’m not gonna like the solution.”
Jill laughed, and then Randi mentioned Travis’s visit the night before.
“Well, that’s perfect, then,” Jill declared.
“Whaddaya mean, perfect?”
“I’m about to explain, love. Now, listen up…”
Jill had been right, Randi thought as she hung up a few minutes later; she didn’t like it. Her sister’s advice, seconded by David, was that Randi spend even more time in McLean’s company. “It’s your best hope of finding out what he wants,” she’d argued. “And the fact that Travis is still around makes it perfect. You’ll never have a better chance, Randi, what with Matt away.”
Randi had done her best to resist, but in the end, Jill’s logic won out. It was her own fault. She’d given Jill only a sketchy rundown of Travis’s visit. She’d said nothing about her unwilling attention to the man, about the unnerving effect he had on her. Her sister was always going on about how she should be seeing men, dating. She’d probably jump on Randi’s attraction to McLean and urge her to pursue it!
No way, she thought as she finished her morning coffee, then dressed for the beach. Still, she found herself taking extra pains with her hair. And the lunch she fixed and took in the cooler had more food than she, herself, could consume in a week.
Yet she wound up toting copious leftovers back to the cottage that afternoon. Travis hadn’t appeared at the beach. Nor did he call or show up unannounced at her door, as she’d half anticipated on the walk back.
Evening found her ensconced on the couch, regarding the unread novel with a baleful eye. How was she supposed to follow Jill’s plan if Travis wasn’t in evidence? Not that she really wanted him to be, she told herself.
She tapped the book against a knee clad in white designer jeans. No skimpy attire for her tonight. She’d dressed modestly, yet not without an eye to style. The handkerchieflinen sleeveless tunic she wore over the jeans was a color called persimmon. Strappy white sandals completed an en- semble that showed off her tan and looked smart. But it appeared all this had been a wasted effort.
Curse the man! Her life, since his recent entrance into it, had become more complicated than-
A knock at the door had her slamming the book down and leaping to her feet. She hurried to answer it, checking herself in the hallway mirror as she passed.
“That you, McLean?” she called through the door.
“In the flesh, sugar. Open up.”
She did, then took a small step backward, feeling her pulse race. There was no mistaking the naked appreciation in the eyes he ran over her.
She quickly shifted her gaze, concentrating on what he held in his arms. “What on earth?”
Travis’s grin was a bit sheepish as she gestured at the cardboard carton he held. And the shaggy lop-eared puppy inside it.
“Meet Ulysses,” Travis said as he sauntered in.
“Ulysses,” Randi echoed. She noted a heavily padded bandage on the pup’s foreleg and wondered why he’d brought the creature here. “Is he yours? And what’s wrong with his leg?”
“He’s mine if someone doesn’t claim him, but I don’t think that’ll happen. The consensus of me ‘n’ my landlady is that his owner doesn’t want him. He and a littermate were just dumped, we suspect, on the road.”
“The poor thing,” she murmured sympathetically. How could people treat helpless animals so cruelly?
“Mrs. Muncie’s already decided to keep his brother,” Travis went on as he headed for the kitchen. “And because of my, uh, medical background, I was nominated to look out for Ulysses here. His leg’s broken—”
“Broken!”
Travis’s eyes were angry as he glanced at her before setting the carton carefully on the floor. “A car hit him. It was how we came across the pups. There was a squeal of tires outside the bed-and-breakfast this morning. And then we heard some godawful yelping from this little guy.”
“Dear Lord…” Randi murmured, bending down to stroke Ulysses’ head.
“The driver stopped and offered to take him to a vet before he went to work,” Travis went on, “but I told him I’d take care of it.” He shrugged. “I had the time, and it kept me from thinkin’ ‘bout the creep that dumped ‘em.”
Ulysses gave Randi’s hand a gentle lick that made her heart turn over. Then he curled up on the folds of beach towel at the bottom of the carton, put his head on his paws and closed his eyes.
“He’s sleepy from the sedative the vet gave him,” Travis explained, “and I was told to keep an eye on him, so…” He leaned against the refrigerator and gave her that boyish grin again. “Uh, d’you mind?”
“That you brought him here?” She smiled at the sleeping pup. He was adorable, really, with a shaggy salt-andpepper coat, feathered whiskers that extended below his chin like a beard, and a snub nose. “Well, no, of course not, but what did you, uh…”
“Have in mind?” Travis’s grin became a lazy tantalizing curve of those chiseled lips with nothing of the boy in it. “Oh, I thought we’d just hang out a spell. Y’know, maybe get around to some things we, uh, didn’t have a chance to pursue last night.”
He was looking directly at her mouth as he said this, and Randi felt her breath catch and a queer little lurch in the pit of her stomach.
She swallowed thickly and lowered her gaze, then swallowed again, an ambivalent mix of emotions confusing her as nothing ever had. His white canvas shorts revealed long powerful bronzed thighs, glinting with blond hairs. Suddenly she didn’t know where to look.
“Uh, there’s a screened porch out back,” she murmured, seizing on the first thing that came to mind. “Why don’t you take Ulysses out there, and…and I’ll fix us some lemonade?”
“Sounds good, sugar.” In a single graceful movement, Travis launched his tall frame from the refrigerator and gently scooped up Ulysses, carton and all. “And while you’re fixin’ the drinks, I’ll run to the car ‘n’ fetch the clams.”
“Clams?”
“Steamers,” he clarified on his way out. “They gave Ulysses a painkiller right away, but the vet’s office was jammed. Had to spend most of the day waitin’ for the leg to be set. Never had supper—lunch, either, come to think of it,” he called over his shoulder. “Be right back.”
She thought about what he’d said as she made a jug of lemonade. More specifically she thought about him. About the kind of man he was to forgo lunch and dinner to help a wounded animal that wasn’t his responsibility in the first place. Her estimation of Travis McLean inched up several notches.
The steamers turned out to be a movable feast. There were two large buckets of them, along with enough broth to float a battleship and the drawn butter to grease it. A loaf of crusty French bread and fresh tomatoes from a roadside stand had Randi wishing she hadn’t wasted her appetite on the can of soup she’d heated for supper.
“So, what happens to Ulysses now?” she asked, wiping her fingers on a napkin he’d brought with the food. They’d talked in a desultory fashion during the meal about nothing much in particular. Now, sated and relaxed, they faced each other across a low wicker table over the remains of the feast; she lounged in a cushioned wicker armchair while Travis sprawled lazily on the matching settee.
“And why the name Ulysees, by the way?” she added, pitching her napkin onto the tray of remains on the table.
“Well, the original Ulysses was a wanderer, too. Through no fault of his own, I might add, other than bein’
in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Travis leaned down and stroked the pup’s fur, then smiled at her. “He eventually reached his home, though. I figured this little fella deserves the same fate. A good home, that is.”
“So you’re going to keep him?”
“Depends,” Travis said. “I will if I can’t find him somethin’ better.” He rubbed his chin contemplatively. “Trouble is, I’m not really set up for a dog, much as I love ‘em. I live in an apartment, and I’m away at work most of the time. It really wouldn’t be fair to an animal.”
He eyed her speculatively. “You ‘n’ Matt have a dog?”
“No, we—” She halted abruptly, noting the alert look in his eyes. “Now, wait a minute, McLean! If you think—”
“Kids ‘n’ dogs sorta go together, don’t they? I mean, unless there’s a problem. Uh, Matt’s not allergic or anythin’, is he? Or…he’s not afraid of dogs?”
“Of course not! Matt loves animals. I’ve thought of getting him a pet, but only when he’s older. A four-year-old isn’t—”
“I got my first dog when I was four. A chocolate Lab I named Hershey. Hershey and I were inseparable. He slept at the foot of my bed, woke me in the mornin’ with his big foolish tongue ‘n’ went everywhere with me. Heck, ol’ Hersh was the best friend I ever had as a kid.”
“Oh? And I suppose you took him to school with you when you reached school age? And of course you were the one who housebroke him?”
For the second time that evening, Travis looked sheepish. It had been the butler who’d housebroken Hershey, and there’d been a bevy of servants to see to the dog’s needs when he couldn’t. Yet Travis remembered doing his part, even cleaning up the occasional “accident.” It taught him something about responsibility. A boy ought to have a dog, for Pete’s sake!
“What if I were to housebreak him for you?” he suggested. “I could train him some, too. Y’know, give him the basics—sit, lie down, stay.”
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