“I don’t suppose you’d consider giving us the benefit of your expertise on this thing before you go?”
No. No way. He needed to get back to the dam. The computerized stress simulations should be coming off the Cray supercomputer in D.C. within the next hour. He’d already put a dent in his schedule by driving up here.
Ever after, Reece could never decide whether it was the unsightly tangle of rope in Sydney’s hand or the sweat streak between her breasts that changed his mind. Somehow, he couldn’t stand the thought of her and her crew wrestling with the heavy blocks in this heat…and making a mess of it. Sighing, he told Albert and the mousy gofer to hang loose for a few minutes, and strolled over to join the small group clustered around the crate.
“This ‘thing,’ as you call it, is one of the oldest machines invented by man.”
Calmly, methodically, Reece helped lay the various pieces of the mechanism in orderly rows on the ground.
“Like the fulcrum and the lever, the pulley trades distance for force or force for distance.”
Sydney shot the others a look. “Right. Distance for force.”
His professional instincts roused now, Reece tried a more basic, textbook explanation.
“Essentially, all machines are force multipliers. Work equals force multiplied by the distance over which the force acts. Thus, by increasing the distance via a system of block and tackles like this, you increase the mechanical advantage—the ratio of the load-to-overcome versus the effort expended.”
Her face arranged in suitably grave lines, Sydney nodded, but Reece couldn’t miss the laughter dancing in her green eyes. His stomach muscles did a little force multiplying of their own.
Dammit! How could she tie him up in knots with a single, sparkling glance?
The reminder that she tied Chavez up in exactly the same way did little to loosen the knots. Thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans, Reece scowled at the array of equipment.
“Unless you’re planning to lift steel girders to reinforce the walls of some of those ruins, you’ve got four times what you’ll need here. Block and tackles are only necessary for heavy loads.”
Sydney and Tish turned accusing eyes on the be-ringed Zack. His skinny shoulders lifted in a defensive shrug.
“Like, I should know that?”
“Well, I guess more is better than not enough,” Sydney said, bringing those dazzling green eyes back to Reece again. “If you’ll just show us which end of the rope goes where, we’ll take it from there.”
He winced. Looked at his watch. Struggled valiantly against an overwhelming urge to see the job done right…and lost. With a resigned sigh, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. Folding it neatly, he laid it on a nearby rock.
“All right. I’ll show you which end goes where.”
Sydney didn’t even notice that her lower jaw had dropped until Tish elbowed her in the ribs. Hard.
“Close your mouth, girl. You’re sucking in gnats.”
She was sucking in more than gnats. She was sucking in the sight of Reece Henderson’s wide shoulders, rippling muscles and intriguingly concave belly with that little twirl of silky black hair just above the navel.
Oh, God! Where was her camera? Why couldn’t she ever find extras who looked like this when she needed them? Would he let her capture him stripped to the waist like this on video?
The thought brought reality crashing down.
She hadn’t put herself in hock, spent the past eight months lining up funding, and hired an outrageously expensive crew to document Reece Henderson’s admittedly spectacular bod. She’d made a promise to her father, and to herself in his memory—a promise she intended to get to work on as soon as Reece finished doing whatever he was doing.
It didn’t take him long. Ignoring the heavy wooden blocks, he tied two smaller pulleys to a bundle of hinged wooden struts, then looped a length of rope over his head and shoulders.
“I’ll climb up to the ledge and drop a line for the bundle.”
“I’ll go with you,” Sydney said quickly.
She beat him to the aluminum ladder by a second or two. She wasn’t about to let anyone set foot in the ruins ahead of her. This was her dream, her and her father’s. She’d waited ten years for this moment.
Her heart started pounding the instant she set her foot on the first rung. By the time she swung onto the ledge, it thundered in her ears.
She stood transfixed a few feet from the edge, afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe for fear the ruins would collapse or crumble or otherwise disintegrate before she could explore their secrets. The fear was irrational, she knew. These stone buildings and the people who occupied them had survived hundreds of years under Arizona’s blistering sun. After the villagers abandoned their homes and the fields of maize, beans and squash they cultivated on the canyon rim, the deserted village had remained tucked away in this isolated cave for hundreds more. Even decades under water hadn’t destroyed them.
Still, Sydney absorbed a sense of ephemeral beauty through every pore of her body. Perhaps the ruins seemed so fragile because they rose from the waters for such a short time, only to sink into oblivion once again when the reservoir filled. Caught up in their spell, she peered through patterns of sunlight on shadow. Above her arched the smoke-blackened roof of the cave. Ahead of her, so close she could touch it, stood a low wall. Hesitantly, tentatively, she reached out. The stone felt cool and dry under her fingertips.
“The cliff dwellers knew what they were doing.”
Reece loomed behind her, speaking softly, sounding every bit as awed as Sydney by the ancient ruins.
“They built their homes in cliffs facing east or south to take advantage of solar energy,” he murmured. “The morning sun warmed their homes in winter, and the cliffs protected them from the fierce heat of the afternoon sun in summer.”
His fingers brushed the same wall Sydney’s had.
“Look at this. They chinked the rocks together so tightly the structure held even though the water’s eaten away at the mud mixed with straw they used for mortar.”
The reverence in his voice brought a smile to her eyes. She didn’t know a fulcrum from an inclined plane, but his appreciation for the Ancient Ones’ architectural skills she could relate to. Feeling more in harmony with the man than at any other time in their brief acquaintance, she turned to share some of her newly gained knowledge.
The little movement trapped her between the stone wall and Reece’s chest. Sydney breathed in his scent, a mixture of hot sun and clean, healthy sweat, and felt her heart do a quick little number against her ribs. If she rose up on tiptoe, if she stretched just a few inches, she could touch her mouth to his.
The idea of drawing him into another of those soul-shattering kisses drove everything, even the ruins, from her mind for a moment or two.
But only a moment or two.
She’d invested too much of herself and her dreams in this project to lose her perspective only seconds after setting foot on the ledge. Recalling herself with a start, she scooted to one side at the precise instant Reece moved the other way, looking every bit as relieved as she at the near miss. With brisk efficiency, he dropped the rope line over the ledge, hauled up the bundle of wooden supports, and set about rigging a simple pulley.
A shout to Tish signaled that the mechanism—correction, the force multiplier—was operational. Following Reece’s instructions, the camera operator and Zack attached a case of equipment.
Resolutely Sydney kept her back turned as Reece hauled up the first load. No sense risking another mouth full of gnats by admiring the way the light played over the sweat glistening on his back, or dwelling on the poetry of his lean, muscled torso in motion.
In less than ten minutes, both her reduced crew and their equipment had gained the cave. Eager to get to work, Zack and Tish dug into the packs.
When Reece dusted his hands on his jeans and prepared to leave, common courtesy dictated that Sydney thank him for his efforts. She even
offered to buy him dinner later at the Lone Eagle Café in exchange for his help.
“Some other time, maybe.” He swung onto the ladder. “If the data I requested comes in this afternoon, I’ll be putting in some long, late nights.”
“Sure. See you around, then.”
As brush-offs went, it was relatively benign. Nothing like the humiliation Sydney had experienced at Jamie Chavez’s hands ten years ago.
Yet for some reason, Reece Henderson’s rugged features and casual dismissal of her offer disrupted her thoughts far more than they should have in the hours that followed.
Chapter 7
S ebastian didn’t confront his son about his flight into the canyon until the following afternoon. He wanted to remain calm and approach the matter of Sydney Scott rationally, but his distress went too deep…and his fear. Five minutes into the discussion, his cheekbones were singed with red.
“I won’t have it!”
He stood ramrod straight, facing his son across the oak trestle table that served as his desk.
“This woman almost destroyed all your plans and dreams ten years ago. You can’t allow her to do so again. I can’t allow it.”
“My plans and dreams?” As stiff and unyielding as his father, Jamie gave a huff of derision. “Your plans, you mean. For me. For Arlene. For the convenient joining of your lands with my wife’s.”
Sebastian reared back, stung. “I wanted only your happiness. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Since the day your mother…”
His throat worked. Even after all these years, he couldn’t speak of his young wife’s treachery without tasting bitter gall.
“Since the day your mother went away, I’ve lived my life for you.”
Jamie blew out a long breath. Despite their occasional arguments, neither father nor son ever denied the bond between them. As his belligerence drained, however, guilt took its place. He felt so damned suffocated by his father’s all-consuming love, so trapped.
“Yes, I know you have.”
Like a hawk, his father moved in to take advantage of his weakening. “Sydney Scott came back to Chalo Canyon to take her revenge on us. You can’t trust her.”
“No, Dad. You can’t trust her, any more than you’ve trusted any woman since Mother walked out on us.”
Sebastian gave a hiss of denial, but they both knew it was true. Jamie had heard the story so often, from so many of the ranch hands and residents of Chalo Canyon, that it no longer had the power to sting.
Young, giddy Marianne Chavez had dealt her husband’s pride a mortal blow when she’d run off with another man, leaving behind only a few scribbled lines and her five-month-old infant. Since that day, the old man had focused all his devotion, all his ambition, all his burning intensity on his son.
“Whether I trust Sydney or not isn’t the only issue at stake here,” Sebastian said fiercely. “What if this movie she wants to make garners national attention? She’ll focus attention on the ruins. The historical preservationists will get involved. They’ll stir up the Hopi, try to save the village, maybe block the refill of the reservoir. Where will that leave us? We use that water for irrigation. The people in town depend on income from pleasure boaters and sportsmen.”
“I know, Dad, I know.”
“Then why in God’s name did you help her by flying her equipment into the canyon yesterday?”
Jamie had his own reasons for choppering into the canyon, but not ones he intended to share with the old man.
“Because your ploy to sabotage her shoot by scaring off the men she’d hired didn’t work. I heard that Henry Three Pines intended to press his grandsons into service. I figured the sooner she got her gear and finished her shoot, the sooner she’d leave. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? For her to leave?”
“I…”
Sebastian hesitated, his black eyes strangely blank for a moment. Only then did Jamie notice the faint blue tinge to his father’s lips. His heart jumped. For all their differences, for all he longed to throw off the burden of the old man’s constant attention at times, he couldn’t imagine a world without his father. Lunging around the edge of the trestle table, he grasped his father’s arm.
“Dad? Are you okay?”
Sebastian gave a little shake, as if to throw off his momentary blankness, and lifted a hand to cover Jamie’s. The strength of the older man’s grip calmed the younger’s galloping fears.
“I’m fine. Just worried about the harm this woman can cause you and Arlene. Your wife loves you, Son, with all her heart. That’s a gift more precious than gold.”
The suffocating feeling returned. Sooner or later, Jamie thought grimly, he was going to drown in all this love.
“I know.”
Clawlike, the old man’s fingers dug into his. “Promise me you won’t go into the canyon again.”
Strain put harsh lines in his aristocratic face. Sebastian looked old and tired…and almost frightened.
“I promise,” Jamie said quietly.
“Good. Now go find your wife. I’m in the mood for a stiff bourbon and some charming company before dinner.”
His heart swelling with pride, Sebastian watched his offspring stride to the door. James Sebastian Chavez was a good man, a son to be proud of. Sebastian had worked diligently over the years to stamp out every trace of his mother. She still surfaced in Jamie’s rare flashes of temper or occasional urge to kick over the traces, but not as much of late. The boy had finally started to settle down, taken over more of the ranch and timber-harvesting operations.
Then Sydney Scott had returned to remind Jamie of his youth…and Sebastian of his past.
Gripping the back of his chair, he fought the memories that rose in his mind. Of his laughing young wife. Of his early struggles to provide her the luxuries she craved. Of his joy and her profound disgust when she learned she was pregnant. Of that last ride into Chalo Canyon when she’d been petulant and arguing and Sebastian had been cajoling, begging her as much as his stubborn pride would allow, to reconsider her decision to leave him.
No! He squeezed his eyes shut. He wouldn’t remember that time, or the dark, bleak days that followed. She’d given him a son. If nothing else, Marianne had at least given him a son.
In his heart of hearts, Sebastian prayed constantly that Arlene would give Jamie a child. Unlike Marianne, Arlene wanted children. Even more, she wanted to please her husband. She loved him so desperately, starved herself to stay thin, spent exorbitant amounts each time she drove to Scottsdale to shop or have her hair done.
He would talk to Arlene, Sebastian decided. Maybe suggest she see a doctor. It was time, past time, she conceived. The problem, if there was one, had to be on her side, since Sebastian quietly paid a substantial allowance every month to the child Jamie had fathered even before he’d dallied with Sydney Scott.
Damn the woman, he thought again, remembering that near disaster of ten years ago. Damn her for opening the Pandora’s box of the past.
Damn the woman!
Arlene dragged a brush through her feathery auburn hair, preparing to join her husband and father-in-law for dinner. With every stroke of the bristles, her thoughts kept returning to Sydney Scott. Damn her for tantalizing Jamie with visions of a world different from Chalo Canyon…and of a woman far different from his wife.
Dropping the brush, she stared into the gilded tri-fold mirror she’d imported from Italy with Sebastian’s blessing. Her father-in-law had encouraged her to redecorate, urged her and Jamie to make the addition to the thick-walled adobe ranch house their home.
Now she knew that Jamie considered the luxurious wing a prison.
Her heart aching, Arlene examined her sculpted chin and pronounced cheekbones from three different angles. She didn’t see the hollowed indentations or skin stretched skeletal tight, only the tiny pads in her upper lids. With a trembling finger, she stroked a little fatty fold. Despite her best efforts, it hadn’t disappeared with fasting or facial exercise. She’d have to see a plastic surgeon in
Phoenix or Scottsdale. She’d call tomorrow and make an appointment for next week. No, she’d wait until Sydney Scott left Chalo Canyon.
Damn the woman!
Ten miles away Reece unknowingly echoed the sentiments of Sebastian and his daughter-in-law. Like a persistent itch that couldn’t be reached to scratch, Sydney irritated his thoughts.
Why couldn’t he get the woman out of his mind?
He propped a boot on the low parapet that followed the crest of his dam. He’d come up to get some air, take a break before he and his team finished the revised cost estimates he’d promised his boss. Yet his wayward thoughts insisted on drifting to the crew at the ruins. Or more specifically, to the woman who directed them.
He ought to be calculating cubic yards of concrete, additional man-hours, the added economic impact to the surrounding area if the repairs took longer than originally anticipated. He let his gaze roam the now-empty chasm behind the massive concrete dam. At this point Reece couldn’t say with any certainty when the reservoir would fill again. After two exhaustive days of e-mails, conference calls and sometimes heated discussions, his boss had decided to crunch the data and construct yet another 3-D finite element model. Since the modified repair program Reece was recommending would run some five million dollars more than originally budgeted for, he could understand Mike’s reluctance to rush into it. At this rate, though, the actual repair work would take three years instead of three weeks.
Tomorrow he’d have to meet with a coalition of agricultural, environmental, recreational, Native American and business leaders to explain the added delay before a final decision.
Tonight…
Tonight. He kept wondering how the shoot was going, whether Sydney and her crew had any problems with the pulleys he’d rigged, whether he’d bump into her at the Lone Eagle Café later.
He hadn’t seen her since yesterday, had only spoken to her briefly this morning when she’d called for clearance. Yet he couldn’t shake the lingering image of her dancing green eyes when he’d tried to explain the rudimentary laws of physics, or his nagging regret that he’d turned down her offer of dinner last night. The more he thought about it, the more regret spiraled into lust. Hard on the heels of that lust came a twist of self-disgust when he remembered his spike of raw jealousy as he’d spotted Jamie Chavez oozing charm all over Sydney yesterday morning.
A Man of His Word Page 8