Desert Rain with Bonus Material

by Elizabeth Lowell

  He was.

  “I have to show horses on the auction block in ten minutes,” he said. “If that’s enough time for you”—the lock clicked open—“then come in.”

  “You’re the expert,” she said. “Is that enough time?”

  “For some women, it’s nine minutes more than I’d care to spend. For you, I’d want at least a lifetime.”

  “Starting when?” Holly groaned. “Damn it, Linc, you’re not being fair!”

  He laughed softly.

  “You’re not the only one who’s hurting, niná. I’ll make it up to you tonight. To both of us. Truce?”

  Holly set her teeth and pushed away from the door.

  “Truce,” she muttered. “Damn it!”

  She buttoned her blouse and went to find the caterer.

  If the man still wanted to argue about microwaves, she was ready to oblige.

  Beth fidgeted, unable to contain her excitement.

  “Can I look yet?” she asked.

  Smiling, Holly unwrapped a long strand of blond hair from a fat roller.

  “Not quite yet,” she said.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Brushing the hair that I didn’t braid.”

  “I’m so excited,” Beth whispered.

  “Really?” teased Holly. “I’d never guessed it.”

  “You’re as bad as Linc.”

  “Sit still or it will take twice as long.”

  Beth grimaced and tried to sit still. It wasn’t possible.

  “Jack’s here already,” she said. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

  Holly tried to remember one special face out of the group of teenagers who had arrived just in time for the barbecue.

  “I must have missed him,” she admitted. “Which one is he?”

  “The good-looking one.”

  “They all looked pretty good to me.”

  Beth giggled.

  “He was standing next to the little redhead,” she said. “She’s my best friend.”

  “Oh, that good-looking one.”

  Holly untied the cloth she had used to protect Beth’s clothes while makeup was applied.

  “Okay,” Holly said. “Stand up and be counted.”

  With a subdued squeal, Beth leaped up and hurried toward the mirrored sliding doors that covered the guest room closet.

  “Oh ” She sighed.

  It was all she could say. Her eyes widened as she looked at her own image in disbelief.

  Hair the color of late-afternoon sunlight fanned over the silk of her blouse and curled over the gentle swell of her breasts. The turquoise skirt fell in graceful folds from her slim waist to the tips of her silver sandals. Tiny drop earrings glowed like an echo of her turquoise eyes.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I’m actually pretty!”

  Smiling, Holly smoothed a last lock of blond hair into place.

  “You’re more than that,” she said. “You’re beautiful, Beth.”

  A shadow passed over the younger girl’s face.

  “I look like my mother,” she said, her voice suddenly empty.

  Holly ached at the pain that darkened Beth’s eyes.

  “Was she . . .” Beth hesitated, then finished in a rush, as though if she spoke quickly it wouldn’t hurt so much. “Was she really a bad woman?”

  Holly couldn’t lie and didn’t want to tell the truth.

  “Your mother was a very unhappy woman,” she said finally. “Unhappy people do unhappy things.”

  For a moment Beth looked much older than her fifteen years.

  “And I look like her,” she said starkly.

  “That’s just the outside. You’re a good person, Beth. Whatever your mother was or wasn’t has nothing to do with what you are today.”

  “Linc doesn’t believe that.”

  “Two beautiful women hurt him very badly.”

  “Yes,” Beth whispered.

  “So I guess it will take two other beautiful women to teach Linc that beauty and cruelty don’t mean the same thing.”

  Holly tipped Beth’s face up and studied the girl’s clear eyes.

  “Will you help me teach him?” Holly asked.

  Slowly Beth nodded.

  “Good,” Holly said. “Now it’s time for me to do my caterpillar-to-butterfly act. Wait for me?”

  Beth looked surprised, but agreed immediately.

  “Sure,” she said. “Can I help?”

  “Nope. I want to surprise you, too.”

  Beth laughed, but she went and turned on the bedroom’s small TV without arguing.

  Holly closed the bathroom door behind her. She had showered and set her hair earlier. All that remained was to put on her dress and makeup, and comb out her hair.

  Moving quickly, she took her favorite outfit out of its opaque traveling bag. As always, the long black dress delighted her. Its lines were simple and elegant. The neckline was a wide, shallow curve that stretched from shoulder to shoulder. The bodice fitted her like a shadow of her own beauty.

  There was no back, simply a black fall of silk from waist to ankle. The skirt swung enticingly with each movement of her body.

  Inset at the bottom of each short sleeve was an inverted V strung with loops of unbelievably fine gold chain. The chains were repeated in a diamond shape between Holly’s breasts.

  The gold warmed against her skin, shifting and gleaming with each breath she took. Although very little of her skin was revealed through the closely spaced chains, they hung in loops that tempted a man’s finger into searching beneath the sensual glow of eighteen-carat gold.

  Holly smoothed the dress into place before she put on a wrap that went from chin to ankles. She opened her cosmetic case. Smiling, she went to work.

  The foundation she applied was so sheer it was all but invisible. Blusher heightened the slanting line of her cheekbones. A touch of scented oil smoothed into each black eyebrow made them glisten.

  Eye shadow heightened the tawny color of her eyes. She applied liner artfully, all but hidden just above her eyelashes. The liner transformed tilted eyes into cat eyes, unblinking and luminous gold.

  Mascara brought out the thickness and unusual length of her eyelashes. A smooth, tawny-rose lip liner and gloss emphasized the sensuality of her mouth.

  The result was breathtaking, but not to Holly. To her, it was simply her public face, a kind of armor she wore against the world at large, protecting the vulnerable Holly within.

  With practiced motions she stripped the rollers out of her long hair. She brushed with deep strokes that made her hair crackle and shift as though it were alive, restless, wild to be free.

  She caught up some of the hair at the sides, making silky wings that covered half of her ears. She clipped the hair in place at the back of her head.

  The clip was a twist of gold capped by a long tassel of chains that matched those on her dress. Except for that single restraint, Holly allowed her hair to fall down her bare back until black hair and black silk were indistinguishable.

  She stepped into high-heeled gold sandals, removed the wrap that had protected her dress, and examined herself critically in the mirror.

  Ice formed in the pit of her stomach.

  Never had her transformation been so startling, so complete. The sensual awakening that Linc had begun showed in the heat of her skin, the luminous gold of her eyes, the bruised impatience of her mouth.

  With a mixture of pride and fear, Holly realized that she had never looked more alluring.

  When she opened the bathroom door and walked out, Beth didn’t hear. She was standing in front of the television, staring at the screen with a peculiarly intent look.

  Holly heard the words before she saw the picture.

  “. . . Royce, made to be worn over nothing more than a woman’s perfumed skin.”

  It was a commercial Holly had made last year, featuring a line of lingerie that had since sold very well.

  “Beth?”

  “I’ve seen that commercial a
hundred times,” Beth said without turning around. “Shannon has to be the most gorgeous woman in the world.”

  “Thank you.”

  Startled, Beth turned and saw her for the first time.

  “Holly . . . ?” she asked weakly.

  “The same.”

  Stunned, Beth simply stared.

  “Well, almost the same,” Holly amended. “A Royce does wonders for any woman, and Roger designed this dress especially for me.”

  “I—I—” Beth swallowed and tried again. “I can’t believe it. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I said I was a model. I am.”

  Beth shook her head, speechless.

  “What was I supposed to say?” Holly asked dryly. “ ‘Hi, I’m Shannon, the internationally famous model.’ If you’re famous, you don’t have to mention it, do you?”

  Beth blinked. Then she started laughing.

  “Wait until Cyn sees you!” she said. “Oh, I want to be there. I want to be right there!”

  “Thought you might,” Holly said. “That’s why I asked you to wait for me.”

  “And Linc. Oh boy, when Linc sees—”

  Beth stopped abruptly, realizing that her brother was not going to be delighted.

  Far from it. Linc would be furious.

  “God. Linc’s going to have a cow.”

  “Yeah,” Holly said, trying to smile. “That’s the other reason I wanted you to wait. I don’t think he’ll kill me in front of his kid sister.”

  Beth didn’t look all that certain.

  Holly took a deep breath, settled her Shannon armor firmly into place, and held out her hand.

  “First things first,” Holly said.

  “What’s first?”

  “Seeing how far Cyn’s jaw can drop.”

  Fifteen

  It was very dark by the time Holly and Beth stepped outside. Wind-driven clouds hid all but occasional pale flashes of moon.

  Music rippled through the night, strains of a waltz that was centuries old. Countless strings of tiny white lights wove through trees and over fences, guiding people to the dance pavilion. The pavilion was just beginning to fill, drawing laughter and beautifully dressed couples into its billowing interior.

  Some guests had attended the auction and barbecue and then gone to their nearby homes to change into evening clothes. Others had brought their formal clothes and changed in one of the McKenzies’ six guest rooms. Still others had simply attended the auction looking as princely as the Arabians they had come to admire and buy.

  The mixture of fashion and elegant, silk-tasseled horses gave Holly the feeling of being transported to a fairy-tale world where gleaming Arabians pranced amid a diamond glitter of wealth.

  Bemused by the transformation of Linc’s ranch, she looked across the yard to where the auction was taking place. The platform was like a large stage, darkened but for a spotlight.

  Inside the cone of light, a dark stallion pranced with muscular grace, held by no more than a delicate, braided-silk show halter. With each movement of the stallion’s body, elaborate silk tassels on the halter rippled, weaving light into shimmering patterns.

  “What a stunning animal,” Holly said.

  Beth followed her glance.

  “That’s Night Dancer,” Beth said. “He’s Shadow Dancer’s sire. That’s why Linc was so worried about the foal.”

  “Surely you aren’t auctioning off that stallion!”

  Beth laughed at the thought.

  “Nope,” she said proudly. “We’re just showing off the best Arabian stud this side of anywhere. Linc does it at the end of every auction we have at the Mountains of Sunrise.”

  Holly waited for a few moments more, watching the spotlighted platform. But her eyes no longer followed the horse’s movements. She sought the tall man in the shadows who held the stallion’s silken lead.

  From this distance she could not see the man’s face. Only the potent grace of his movements as he controlled Night Dancer identified the man as Linc.

  “He’s quite an animal, isn’t he?” Beth asked.

  “Yes.” She smiled and added dryly, “Both of them.”

  Giggling, Beth picked up her long skirt and began walking toward the pavilion. Holly followed, holding folds of smooth midnight silk in her hands to keep the hem clear of the grass.

  Linc didn’t see Holly or his sister walking toward the dance pavilion. He was already heading back to the barn, leading the ranch’s most valuable asset.

  Holly and Beth joined the glittering guests inside the pavilion. The bandstand was at one end of the enclosure, a bar and buffet at the other, with groupings of tables and chairs in between.

  Suddenly Beth took Holly’s arm and tried to drag her off to the left side of the vast tent.

  She threw Linc’s sister a startled look.

  “Hurry,” Beth explained. “I just spotted Cyanide.”

  “Cyanide?”

  “Over there.”

  Holly stopped long enough to glance beyond Beth.

  Across the room, flanked by several men, stood a petite blond. She was wearing a long, tight, red sheath. It was cut low in front, slit to mid-thigh at one side, and covered completely in scarlet sequins.

  “Oh,” Holly said. “You mean Cyn. Cyanide, huh?”

  “Can you think of a better name?”

  “Several, but you’re too young to hear them.”

  Beth smiled with pure malice.

  “Bet I’ve thought of them,” Linc’s sister said.

  Wisely, Holly said not one word.

  “Let’s go,” Beth said, tugging impatiently at Holly’s arm. “I can’t wait to see her reaction.”

  “Give Cyn a minute or two. No need to spoil her evening right off.”

  “Why not? She’s spoiled enough of mine.”

  Holly just smiled.

  “Slow down, honey,” she said to Beth. “Let me do it my way.”

  “What’s that?”

  “In cold blood.”

  Beth drew in her breath, tried to see Holly’s face, but couldn’t. She had already turned aside to look at the rest of the people gathered beneath the pavilion’s colorful ceiling.

  “Okay,” Beth said. “I’ll wait.”

  But she still gave a bitter glance to the spot where Cyn stood in sequin-studded splendor. The woman was radiating the kind of sexual signals guaranteed to bring every male within sight to attention.

  Just looking at her made Beth feel awkward, young, and plain.

  “What now?” she asked, sighing.

  “Stay with me. Introduce me to everyone you know.”

  Beth sighed again, more loudly. Obviously she wasn’t impressed by Holly’s strategy for revenge on Cyn.

  “There’s more to attracting men—and keeping them attracted—than a flashy red dress,” Holly explained.

  “Tell that to Cyn.”

  “Oh, she’ll get the message,” Holly said, turning back to Beth. “In spades.”

  “Cool,” Beth said with pure malice. “After I’ve introduced you to people, what then?”

  “Then I’ll cut off Cyn’s claws and make a bracelet for you.”

  Beth’s breath caught. She looked closely, seeing beyond the beautiful exterior to the core of steel beneath.

  For the first time, Beth realized that Holly could be as formidable as Linc himself.

  “You know,” Beth said, “I hope you don’t ever get mad at me.”

  “I only get mad at people who are cruel. Like Cyn.”

  Then Holly smiled, softening her expression.

  “Come on, Beth. I’ve got a roomful of people to meet.”

  “Everyone? Not just the men?”

  “Everyone.”

  Beth groaned, looking at the people in the pavilion.

  “There are zillions of them,” she said.

  Holly laughed at Beth’s impatience.

  “Not quite,” Holly said.

  “Where do we start?” she asked glumly.

  “Do you know
the gray-haired gentleman and the woman in the lavender dress?”

  “Sure. But he’s old.”

  Holly’s lips quirked.

  “No man who is still breathing is that old,” she said.

  Beth gave her a I-hope-you-know-what-you’re-doing look, took her hand, and led her to the couple.

  “Hi, George, Mary,” Beth said. “This is Holly North, Linc’s—”

  “I’m a friend of the family,” she cut in quickly, before Beth could say “fiancée.”

  After tonight, she wasn’t sure that Linc would want to see her again, much less marry her.

  But I won’t think about that now, she told herself firmly. Right now all that matters is showing Beth how to handle herself with malicious creatures like Cyn.

  After tonight, a lot of women like Cyn could be strolling through Beth’s life again.

  And Linc’s.

  Despite Holly’s bleak thoughts, she smiled and held out her hand to Mary and then to George. It was hardly the first time Holly had hidden fear or sorrow behind a breathtaking smile.

  “I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. and Mrs.—?” Holly said.

  “Johnston,” said the man, taking her hand. “But call me George.”

  “Only if you call me Holly.”

  Holly squeezed the man’s hand firmly, released it, and turned toward his wife.

  “That’s a lovely color on you, Mrs. Johnston. I envy you. If I wear lavender, I look like I have terminal flu.”

  The compliment was genuine, for Holly disliked even the social lies that she had learned were sometimes necessary.

  The women’s shrewd blue eyes weighed Holly, then forgave her for being too beautiful.

  “Please, call me Mary,” she said, smiling. Then she laughed. “The idea of you being jealous of me is ridiculous.”

  “Not to me,” Holly said ruefully. “I love purples and can’t wear any of them.”

  “George and Mary own a ranch about three miles up the valley,” Beth said. “George raises quarter horses.”

  Holly gave him a sideways look.

  “You’ll be disowned if you’re caught at an Arabian auction,” Holly whispered. “I’ll never give you away. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  George and Mary both laughed.

  “Actually,” he admitted, “my favorite riding horse is half Arab.”

  Holly began a spirited, knowledgeable discussion of various equine breeds and cross-breeds. George and Mary leaped into the conversation. Their lives, like those of many people in Garner Valley, revolved around horses.