“Welcome to the Inn of the Desert Flame, the most complete resort in the Southwest,” Ozzie said with a proud grin as he slid the big car to a halt in front of the lobby. “Everything you want or need is available on the premises. Three restaurants, a lounge, shops and a friendly staff. Enjoy your stay. Mr. Delaney will be glad to know you’ve arrived.”
Amber leaned close to Gray and asked in a low whisper, “Who’s Mr. Delaney?”
“Victor Delaney is the owner. He’s the one trying to sell the place to Symington’s group of investors.” Gray stepped out of the limo and reached back inside for Amber’s hand. “Things have changed since Twitchell’s time.” He glanced around at the opulent resort.
“Thank heavens,” Amber murmured as she slipped out of the car to stand beside him. “I think I prefer my desert complete with indoor plumbing, swimming pool and air-conditioning.”
Just then the glass doors in the lobby entrance slid open and a tall, slim, balding man in his late forties strode forth with an extended hand and a ready smile. Everyone seemed to smile a lot around here, Amber thought.
“Glad to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Grayson. I’m Vic Delaney. I hope you enjoy your stay.” Delaney shook hands with the enthusiasm of a professional host, but there was no doubt about the genuineness of his greeting. He, too, was tanned and wore a sporty short-sleeved shirt. But instead of jeans he had on a pair of expensive, casual slacks. He wore white leather moccasins and a matching white leather belt. There was an air of exuberant vitality about him that was meant to be contagious. Amber had frequently met his sort in the advertising world. It was obvious Vic Delaney had been in the resort business a long time. “I certainly hope you find everything in order. The staff is anxious to please, so feel free to call on anyone at any time. I’m looking forward to doing business with you, Cormick.”
“Call me Gray.” Gray accepted the handshake with a polite nod. Then he slid a hand possessively under Amber’s arm. “My wife and I are looking forward to our stay.”
“Right this way,” Delaney said, leading them into the lobby. “I’ll have someone show you to your rooms at once.” He nodded toward another sandy-haired, tanned young man in a short-sleeved shirt. “Roger, these are the Graysons. I’ve already taken care of the paperwork. Show them upstairs, will you? One of the bellboys can bring the luggage later.”
“You bet, Mr. Delaney. Right this way, please.” The young man named Roger came forward with alacrity.
Perhaps there was something in the desert air that bred this particular species of tanned, sandy-haired young specimen of manhood, Amber thought as she and Gray followed Roger to the elevators. Roger and Ozzie could have been twins. Both appeared to be in their late twenties and both appeared to spend time working out in a well-equipped gym. They were lean and fit and strongly muscled at the shoulders, and they smiled a lot.
Roger chatted with them in the elevator, asking the usual polite questions about their flight. Amber did most of the answering. The young man seemed to bore Gray. She slid a sidelong glance at her new husband as she stepped out of the elevator and into a carpeted hallway. Gray had not only slipped into one of his quiet moods, he had also gone a little grim. Amber wondered what he was thinking.
A moment later blue-eyed Roger threw open the door of a suite at the end of the hall, and Amber stopped worrying about whatever it was that was preoccupying Gray.
The suite was beautiful. It had a fabulous view of the desert valley on which Tucson sprawled. Carpeted in a rich forest green, it was furnished in a delightfully cool tropical style that was very inviting when set against the desert backdrop outside the windows.
And it had two bedrooms, one on each side of the cozy sitting area. Two bedrooms.
Amber took a deep breath, wondering at the implications of a two-bedroom suite on a honeymoon. Had Gray actually requested two bedrooms or had friendly Vic Delaney simply given them the best room in the house and it happened to have two bedrooms?
Amber stood in the middle of the emerald-green carpet and stared blindly out at the spectacular view while smiling Roger gave Gray a rundown on how to operate the air-conditioning system and how to summon room service.
By the time she heard Roger’s cheerful farewell and sensed the door closing silently behind him, Amber had one of her own bright smiles fixed firmly in place. She swung around to meet Gray’s intent, unreadable hazel eyes. “It’s certainly a lovely room, isn’t it? I think I’ll make it a point to travel with you frequently on your business trips in the future.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Gray paused, glancing at the twin doors that led to the bedrooms. “Puts me in mind of another verse from Twitchell.”
“I don’t think I want to hear it,” Amber informed him tartly. She was remembering the article Gray had published on Twitchell’s use of the desert as a metaphor for isolation and loneliness. She wasn’t sure if Gray had been about to quote one of Twitchell’s maudlin verses on loneliness or not, but those were certainly the lines this suite brought to her mind. “I’m going to take a shower and change into slacks and sandals.”
Gray nodded, loosening his tie. “Okay. I think I’ll go downstairs and let Delaney show me his office and introduce me to the staff who handle the books I’ll need to look at while we’re here.”
“Books?”
He nodded. “The financial books. I’m supposed to be here on business, remember?”
“I remember,” Amber whispered. She turned away and started for the plush bathroom.
“I’ll have the bellboy put your luggage in the right-hand bedroom when he gets here, all right?” Gray called after her.
Amber couldn’t tell if there was a faint note of challenge in his voice or not. Was he asking her whether she expected to have her own room or was he telling her? “That will be fine, Gray.”
Amber fled into the bathroom.
3
Amber felt she had regained both her emotional equilibrium and her sense of perspective by the time she and Gray finished dinner in the beautiful hotel dining room. The wine Gray had ordered with the meal had no doubt contributed to her relaxation, she decided with a small smile.
Outside the dining room windows, subtly directed lighting illuminated a huge, multileveled terrace that contained gardens, a magnificent swimming pool and two or three smaller wading and spa pools. The mountains rose steeply behind the resort, their peaks clawing a star-filled sky. It was a dramatic setting.
Amber had tried to dress for the setting and the evening. She was wearing a sheath of emerald-green silk that was a bit brighter than her normal attire. It was, in fact, a dress left over from her California days. She had kept it because she had never worn it around Roarke. It was, therefore, not imbued with painful memories.
Gray had seemed a little surprised when she’d appeared dressed for the evening, but his eyes had been appreciative as he took in the sight of the green silk, her delicate high heels and the elegantly neat twist of her hair.
“I’m having a hard time believing I’m married to you,” he’d said with a curious curve of his mouth.
“I know what you mean,” Amber had answered with an attempt at a light, careless laugh. She could hardly take her eyes off him. Dressed in an immaculate light gray suit, he seemed very tall, very solid and powerful. When he had taken her arm shortly before dinner to guide her to the elevator, she had been more than usually conscious of the strength in his large hands.
All day long Amber’s mind had been playing with sensual images conjured up by her vivid awareness of Gray’s quiet strength. She had rerun the memories of his brief, casual kiss so many times in her head that she had every nuance memorized.
She still didn’t know if he’d arranged for the two-bedroom suite or if it had just been a fluke that they’d received it. But she did know that after her luggage had been deposited in one room Gray’s suitcase had been taken to the other. The questio
n of where he would choose to sleep tonight was haunting her now that the evening was progressing inexorably to a close.
“This resort seems quite isolated,” she ventured in a deliberately conversational tone as the waiter removed the last of the dishes. “Does Symington realize just how far this place is from town? The mountains start right there outside the window.”
“The isolation is supposed to be part of the charm,” Gray told her. “People coming out West to a fancy dude ranch want the feeling of being really away from civilization.”
“As long as they have all the amenities at hand,” Amber added with a grin.
“Naturally. When you pay a mint for a few days in the desert, you want your money’s worth. Like Ozzie said, this place offers everything you could want plus a nice feeling of getting away from it all.”
Amber leaned forward, not wanting her voice to carry. “Symington’s group of investors is going to have to spend a fortune if they want to buy it.”
“Symington’s investors have a fortune to spend. And they will if they think the deal is sound.”
Amber didn’t need to be told that it was Gray’s job to give his opinion on the soundness of the deal to Symington and his people. “How did the books look this afternoon?”
“I barely got a chance to find out where the accounting office is located,” Gray said dryly. “Delaney spent most of the time giving me a pep talk on his resort. But I’ve arranged to sit down with the accountant and the head bookkeeper tomorrow morning.”
“Will you need me?” Amber heard her own words and was oddly embarrassed. “Tomorrow morning, I mean?”
He didn’t seem to have picked up on the sexual innuendo in her words. “No, I don’t think so. It will take me a while to get oriented.” Gray looked at her as he signed the dinner tab. “Would you like to dance? There’s a trio playing in the lounge.”
“Yes,” Amber said, smiling brilliantly, “I’d like that very much.”
In the glass-roofed lounge, Gray started to take Amber’s hand with a cool formality that sent a shaft of uneasiness through her. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with silent questions. He studied her face for a moment in the soft light and then he opened his arms. She walked into them without any hesitation at all.
Amber could feel the warmth in his big hand as it pressed against the small of her back. His other palm enfolded her fingers. Gray drew her close against him, silently inviting her to put her head on his shoulder. With a small sigh, Amber accepted the unspoken invitation.
“Do you realize this is the first time we’ve ever danced together?” she murmured.
“I realize it.” His fingers tightened briefly around her hand, and he inhaled the fresh, clean scent of her hair. “I think we fit together very nicely.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “We do.” Perfectly was the word she would have used to describe how well they went together on the dance floor. She couldn’t help but wonder if they wouldn’t fit together just as perfectly in bed. She nestled a little closer and was happy when Gray’s arms tightened around her.
It amazed Amber to find her mind so filled with erotic images tonight. Two weeks ago when she had listened to Gray’s casual proposal she had been certain that the most she would ever feel for him was a pleasant, comfortable affection. But the sensual pictures dancing through her head tonight went considerably beyond pleasant, comfortable or affectionate. And the heat that seeped into her bloodstream as Gray drew her more deeply into his hard strength was also several steps beyond anything generally implied by those three bland terms.
A tiny, jarring jolt of deep awareness went through Amber as she abruptly realized that she was on the verge of feeling more than she had wanted to feel. More than she had ever expected to feel toward Gray.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up to find him watching her face. His hazel gaze was almost gold in the soft light of the lounge. His mouth was edged with the faintest of smiles. Gray didn’t miss a beat in the smooth rhythm of the dance, but Amber knew he had realized something was wrong. She summoned a small, uncertain smile in an attempt to assure him that there was nothing to be concerned about. Desperately she searched for a casual conversational gambit.
“The resort seems to be well run, Gray. It’s crowded and the grounds appear well kept. All in all it has the look of a successful operation.”
He shrugged. “Things aren’t always as they appear on the surface.”
She knew instinctively he wasn’t referring just to the operation of the resort. Unable to think of any brilliant comebacks, she simply nodded as if in agreement and kept her mouth shut for the remainder of the dance. But she didn’t put her head back down on his shoulder.
It seemed to Amber there was a new and subtle tension in the atmosphere surrounding Gray and herself. She wasn’t quite sure when it had first appeared. It was as if it had crept up on them, gently enveloping them without any warning. She had known Gray for three months, long enough to become comfortable in his presence. Indeed, she couldn’t remember ever feeling uncomfortable around him.
But tonight she was more vividly aware of him than she had ever been in the past. Aware of the clean male scent of him. Aware of the gold in his hazel eyes. Aware of the strength in him.
It wasn’t all that abnormal, she tried to assure herself as Gray led her back to the small table they were sharing. After all, this was her wedding night. Even if she wasn’t passionately in love with her groom, she was still bound to be very conscious of him It was idiotic to be feeling so nervous. She had no fear of Gray. He would be a gentle, considerate lover, and the plain truth was she had been quietly looking forward to her wedding night all day.
Quietly was the operative word, she reminded herself. She had been quietly, pleasantly, complacently looking forward to her wedding night. She hadn’t expected any waves of dangerous excitement or panting anticipation. Furthermore, Amber was fairly certain Gray wasn’t expecting anything along those lines, either. She wished she understood why there was a faint trembling in her fingertips when she reached for her glass of after-dinner liqueur.
“It’s getting late,” Gray observed a few minutes later, setting his glass down on the polished table. “And I’ve got to meet that accountant and the bookkeeper early tomorrow morning. Ready for bed?”
Amber looked at him from behind a veil of lashes, trying to guess how intimate he meant the question to sound. She nodded politely. He reached for her hand, and a few minutes later they were back at the door of the suite. Amber’s palms felt damp as Gray put the key in the lock. It would be easier if he put his arm around her, she thought. It would be a lot easier and simpler if he made the first move. He was the groom. Surely it was his responsibility. It was traditional, for heaven’s sake. Amber would have given everything she owned in that moment for a glimpse into Cormick Grayson’s mind.
But shortly after they had walked into the green-carpeted room, she realized she didn’t need any psychic powers to tell her how the evening would end. Gray casually slipped out of his jacket, loosened the knot of his tie and undid the first button of his pristine white shirt. He smiled at Amber.
“Got everything you’ll need in your room? I think the bellboy put the right cases in the right rooms, but I didn’t check.”
Amber swallowed and summoned up one of her reassure-the-client smiles. “Yes, I’m sure I’ve got everything.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll say good night and let you get some sleep.” He stepped toward her, dropped a brief kiss on her mouth and sauntered toward his bedroom. “Don’t bother getting up when I do in the morning. This is supposed to be a vacation for you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She hadn’t realized how cool her words sounded until Gray turned at the door and raised a questioning brow. Hastily Amber dredged up another smile. “Good night, Gray. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“Thank you for marr
ying me,” he said gently and disappeared into his room.
Amber stared after him, confused and more than a little miffed. It was a full minute and a half before she finally realized she was simply standing and staring at a closed door. Irritated not only with Gray but with herself, she deliberately moved toward her own room. When she was safely inside, she shut the door a little too hard and sank down on the bed. Her mind was churning.
All right, she thought. So this isn’t the romance of the century. That doesn’t mean the bride and groom are supposed to spend their wedding night in separate rooms.
It wasn’t as if Gray was the shy type. He’d had no trouble proposing marriage in the first place. There must be a reason for his behavior.
Amber chewed her lower lip, her mind clicking rapidly through other reasons why Gray might want to spend his wedding night alone. She got to her feet, kicked off her high-heeled sandals and began pacing the room. The ridiculous part was that she didn’t know whether to be offended or hurt or relieved.
Her fingers went to the zipper of the emerald silk dress. She paused to step out of the delicate material. With great care she hung the dress in the closet and reached for the expensive but rather modest pastel peignoir set she had bought for her wedding night. When the gown was firmly sashed around her waist, she stood in front of the full-length mirror and glared at her image.
She was thirty years old. She had married Gray in good faith. She fully intended to live as his wife. If he hadn’t intended the same, he shouldn’t have asked her to marry him. There was no point.
Between the Lines Page 4
