Valley of Fire

by Janelle Taylor

  He flashed her an easy smile which made her breath catch in her chest. His eyes leisurely roamed over her entire body from tawny head to bare feet. “I see nothing wrong with the way you’re dressed right now,” he murmured in a mellow tone, eyes dancing playfully over her provocative appearance once more.

  She flushed a deep red. She wondered why he had the easy ability to make her feel totally within his power and at an utter loss as to how to handle herself or the situation. She stammered, “You’re too kind and polite. I’ll meet you in twenty minutes. Make yourself at home, look around if you wish.”

  She turned and raced away in a flurry of flying grass shoots and thundering hooves before he could comment upon her looks and company again. He chuckled as he tried to decide if she was embarrassed or simply unnerved. He headed towards the stables instead of for the house as gently ordered. He patiently waited by the gate while she softly issued orders for her beloved mount’s rubdown. It was clear from her request that she normally did that chore herself. That unexpected discovery pleased him.

  While she spoke with her ranch foreman, Steven glanced around at the tranquil sights before him. Somehow he had expected to find a rambling, two-story, white country house with a long porch and several white rocking chairs surrounded by massive magnolias and lofty pines . . . or perhaps a huge mansion along the Southern plantation lines. He had certainly not expected an angled L-shaped, two-story house whose rustic exterior was a mixture of redwood and dark brown rock. Both the redwood and the exterior trim were painted a creamy light yellow.

  The massive oaks and the slender willows wed the house to its site, making it appear a cunning combination of past and present architecture. Its three porches gave it an air of casual, comfortable living. He had been given a partial view of its interior when he had first arrived.

  Her cheery housekeeper had answered his ring at a midlevel entry which immediately led in two directions. One could go upstairs to the formal living areas, dining room, kitchen, bedrooms, and a large porch which was connected to the glassed living room and ran the full length of its thirty-five feet. The view from any of those rooms was magnificent. Or one could go downstairs to a large recreation area, two guest rooms, several other rooms with specified duties, a two-car garage, and another concreted area which matched the position and length of the upstairs porch.

  Mary had shown him to one of those downstairs guest rooms which was decorated in a definite masculine flair. When he had told her he needed to speak with Brandy as soon as possible, she had guided him out of the lower level, past a sunken stoned porch, up a few steps, and onto a back patio which encased a swimming pool. She had pointed out the stables not far away and had told him to ask for her there. She had smiled and returned to the house through a screened porch—no doubt where Brandy did a great deal of her writing, considering the lovely view and the sound of the horses and the gurgling brook with its stoned waterfall.

  He had leisurely strolled past the inviting pool and the pool house. He had taken in the sights as he walked along: the nearby tennis court, the stream with its manmade cascade, the storage buildings in perfect condition, miles of split-rail fencing around lush green pastures with colorful wildflowers and tall trees which stood like dauntless sentinels, and several stables whose state of excellent repair revealed constant care and alert attention. The composite setting gave off a picturesque, serene storybook look and inspired a homey feeling.

  When Brandy joined him and they headed back toward her home, Steven was aware of her nervous, hesitant air. She seemed distant and preoccupied. She abruptly exclaimed, “If you were taking pictures back there, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t use them in your magazine.”

  He looked down at her, unable to read her strange look from the downcast angle of her head and eyes. “Those were strictly for my private collection—vacation memories,” he teased her. “No need to inflame the minds and hearts of countless men who haven’t a chance of pursuing a dream-girl. We’ll take some shots for the magazine later.”

  His tone suddenly became pensive and rueful, as did his expression. If things were going to proceed as hoped, they would need an understanding and a truce. “Sorry about that little misunderstanding at the restaurant in New York. We were getting along so well, I completely forgot about Camille and our dinner.”

  She halted and glanced up at him, pondering his words and their underlying meaning. “That would be most insulting to any female, Steven. Do you always treat your ladies so casually, or is Miss Blanchard close enough to be taken for granted?”

  He winced and murmured, “Ouch! I hope my manners aren’t that lacking or that bad. I blamed it on the enchanting company I was in. As for Camille, there’s nothing personal between us. I’m doing some business with the Zartoffs, and I’d promised to show them around town. It’s a cosmetics firm, and Camille’s the model for the ad campaign. She’s developed this annoying habit of hand-delivering the reports and photos. She thinks she can persuade me to go along with her concepts, rather than the photographer’s. You left before I could see you again,” he softly accused her of running out on him.

  His unnecessary explanation pleased her, relieved her. She laughed softly. “If you’ll take a good look around you, I think you’ll see why I was so anxious to get home. I have two more lengthy trips coming up fairly soon, so I wanted to spend as much time as possible here. Plus, there were some ranch matters which I had to take care of before running off again,” she stated calmly to conceal the real reason for her sudden departure. She wasn’t exactly lying, just stretching the truth.

  Feeling he was turning that powerful charm on her once more, her guard was quickly rising to protect her vulnerable heart from another attack and defeat. She cautioned herself to defensive distance from him while he was in residence, unless he made the first overture. She could not forget or forgive his quicksilver moods and behavior. After Camille’s arrival, she might well have been a stranger, or mere business matter as he had indicated.

  Brandy left Steven having coffee on the porch while she went to shower and change. She was briefly tempted to put on a frilly sundress, but dismissed that idea as being too obvious. She pulled on a pair of her best Levi’s and an aqua chambray shirt. She brushed her long hair until it displayed vitality and fullness, then applied just enough makeup to enhance her looks without being bold or noticeable. She splashed on fragrant Ciara, then rejoined Steven.

  Shortly, Brandy and Steven were served a delicious breakfast. Alertly noting the softened lights in Brandy’s eyes as she asked for breakfast to be made, Mary had tried to provide the best early morning meal she had ever cooked or served. Having known and worked years for Brandy, Mary Carter felt no qualms over this man’s visit, even though Mary’s hours were eight to four daily, except on Sundays or special days. Mary smiled and left them alone to eat and chat.

  Steven had removed the casual jacket to his western suit and had negligently tossed it over the back of an empty chair. He had undone several of the upper buttons on his tan shirt with its contrasting designs of rich bronze to match his jacket and pants. His feet were neatly encased in brown Nocona boots. He courteously seated Brandy before claiming his own place directly across the table from her.

  They ate in near silence, each trying to outwait the other to begin this conversation and to reveal the coming mood for their arrangement. The meal ended, and coffee was served for a last time. Steven leaned back in his chair. He inhaled deeply and smiled mysteriously. His gaze lazily passed over the view which surrounded him. It was so peaceful and relaxing here. It was a perfect setting for the girl seated before him. She appeared so at ease, so natural, so genial.

  Blue eyes came to rest on the emerald ones which were astutely studying him as he studied the scenery and girl before him.

  “You’re right, Brandy. It would be most difficult to trade all of this for big city life. Why do you?” he asked, opening th
eir conversation.

  “Honestly?” she teased lightly as she sipped her tepid coffee.

  He stood up and walked over to a large post. He negligently leaned his husky, tall frame against it. He glanced back at her and smiled. “Naturally,” was all he replied.

  “Off the record,” she began in a silky, jesting tone, “I leave only to remind myself of who I am and of what I have here. Then, there are business matters and tours to take care of. I also have to research certain types of novels. It’s easier to write about locations after you’ve seen them. I’ve also found that people are more willing and eager to enlighten you on certain topics if you visit, rather than write or phone. But I think the main reason is to prevent myself from growing complacent and boring. Other people, places, and events stimulate me; they teach me things. That keeps me from being dull and stagnant.”

  “Such as?” he probed without taking his eyes from her face.

  She came over to stand against the next post. “What goes on away from the security and solitude of this place—how people and places are changing with the times. To stimulate my mind and my imagination, to see and to learn new things. I suppose I’m inwardly afraid I might become a narrow-minded, boring, ignorant, country girl if I remain secluded here all the time. Plus, I need to see friends.”

  “You mean to analyze people and situations to use in a new novel . . . research, isn’t it?” he inquired in a tone which she found confusing and almost resentful.

  She sighed heavily and shook her head. “I thought I had made myself clear the last time you hinted at such a despicable thing. For the last time, Steven, I do not use my friends or mere acquaintances as guinea pigs or role models. I’m talking about living history, or past history, or locations, or certain jobs and events. I’m not denying that some things or some people make an impression on my unconscious mind, but I do not intentionally dissect or exploit the personality or life of anyone.”

  As soon as the pages were ready for Valley, he would know whether or not she was telling the truth. He baffled her further by smiling broadly.

  “What does that sneaky smile mean, Steven?”

  “Oh, I was just thinking about something,” he hinted.

  She waited for him to continue. When he did not, she asked curiously, “Thinking about what?”

  He chuckled at her vivid interest. “Nothing that would interest you, Miss Alexander.” Before she could insist upon some logical answer, Mary called him to the phone in the living room.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I left your number with my service. I have several important business deals in the making.”

  “Of course not,” she sweetly replied, grinning saucily.

  “You don’t care if someone discovers I’m spending a few weeks here with you?” he taunted roguishly. “Mary isn’t a live-in, you know.”

  She boldly parried, “What better way to discount your initial story than to entertain you at my secluded ranch. Knowing you, who would dare believe it was merely business? Besides, we are adults.” Before those words had left her mouth, she flushed a crimson red.

  As he chuckled in unsuppressed pleasure and merriment, he teased, “What better way indeed! Now I know why you tricked me into coming here.” His hand reached out to caress her cheek. He failed to note her tremors as he fought to conceal his own. Damn, she was beautiful and alluring! Nights alone would be awfully tempting.

  Her gaze fused with his as she sexily whispered, “But I didn’t, Steven. You heartlessly blackmailed me into allowing you to come here and to charm me into a truthful story for that malicious paper-rag of yours. You can hardly blame me if I would rather enjoy your surreptitious visit than constantly resist it. How can a poor, defenseless female battle such persistence and power?” she taunted.

  “If my hold over you is that powerful and frightening, I should have demanded more than a mere story from you,” he genially countered as he headed into the house.

  “Perhaps you should have,” she murmured softly.

  He whirled to face her, and his expression was deadly serious as he firmly demanded, “What did you say?”

  His strange tone and piercing gaze warned her to secrecy. “I said, perhaps you should take your call. Someone is impatiently waiting on the other end,” she lied with a mysterious smile.

  He stared at her for a few moments, knowing that was not what she said, wishing he could be certain if he had heard her correctly. He shrugged and went to answer the phone.

  A short time later, a masculine voice asked, “Is that who I think it is, the man on the phone? He did show up?”

  “Good morning, Nigel,” she murmured with a dreamy look still filling her eyes. “Yep, that’s him all right. You do recall the main purpose of his visit, don’t you?” she whispered into his ear as she affectionately embraced him, then laid her face against his cotton shirt and linked her arms around his waist.

  Nigel shook his head as he laughed. He hugged her tightly to his firm body and rested his face atop her silky head. “What would I ever do without you, Brandy love?” He stated with a rueful chuckle, “Sorry I slept so late . . .”

  Before she could reply, a frigid voice stated formally, “I hope I’m not intruding, Miss Alexander?”

  Brandy stiffened, then forcefully relaxed herself. Why should he make her feel ill at ease in her own home? She looked up into Nigel’s grinning face and smiled lovingly. “Not at all, Steven. You already know Nigel, I believe,” she remarked with a hint of subtle amusement in her voice. “I hope you don’t mind, Steven. Nigel was invited first. He loves to crash here and relax, plus write great songs.”

  Nigel turned to face the stern, shocked look in Steven’s eyes. “Sure we know each other, Brandy love. Good to see you again, Steve. Brandy says you’re going to do a new story about her. Or rather, correct a malicious one.” He commented with relief, “I’m glad. There wasn’t any truth to that other one.”

  “You look surprised, Nigel. After all, you’re the one who told me I was completely wrong about her. I just never realized why you were so positive and well-informed. If I had known you were going to be here, I would have brought me a companion along to make a foursome. In fact, that was a very annoyed Camille on the line just now. She was insisting on joining me here,” he commented just to vex Brandy, knowing Camille had called to complain about the new commercial.

  It worked, for Brandy’s eyes glittered with blazing fury as she glared at him. “What you do with your own time is not my business, Mr. Winngate. But I will not have my home turned into a brothel to prevent your temporary loneliness. Neither your Camille nor any other lady friend is welcomed here. If you have need of some female’s services or company, then I suggest you meet one of them in the nearest town for the coming weekend. Nigel is a frequent guest of mine—no, he’s not a guest—he’s family. He’s like my very own brother. So you can wipe that lewd expression off your smug face and dismiss those vulgar thoughts. No matter, under no circumstances will you invite one of your women here! Those are my terms for our business arrangement, Mr. Winngate, sir!” With that tirade, she breathlessly stormed into the house. Brandy didn’t stop; she walked out the front door. She rounded the house and headed for the stables. She would lose her anger and anguish with a brisk ride, the one his arrival had interrupted.

  Both men stared at the door, neither knowing what to say or do. Nigel finally spoke up first, “Just to clear the air, Steve, Brandy and I are very close friends, nothing more. I know that story is utterly fictitious because I know her so well. She’s like my little sister. We spend a lot of time together. But we’ve never been lovers, nor will we ever be. For one thing, she isn’t like that. She’s an old-fashioned girl who’s struggling very hard to survive in a modern world. Don’t attempt to place her into one of those molds for the many women you know, because she won’t fit. Brandy’s different; she’s unique and special. I
f you haven’t realized that by now, then you’ll never know or understand her.” The displeased singer was sorry he had ever suggested this visit.

  Nigel’s tone became firm and cool as he went on, “I will issue you one friendly warning: Don’t try to use her in any way. In spite of how strong and intelligent you think she is, she’s very vulnerable and naïve. Knowing the two of you, I think you’re the very man who could either win her love or devastate her, so don’t tamper with her emotions. Either keep everything on a business level or leave here right now,” he advised the intense Steven, appealing to the man’s conscience.

  “You think Brandy might be romantically interested in me?”

  “Yes, but I also think she’s afraid of you and of herself. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t call me and cancel my visit—self-defense. I’ve never seen those lights in her eyes before, nor have I ever seen her so completely unsure of herself. The thing is, you two would make a perfect team. You’re a great deal alike, and even your differences are compatible. Would you believe I was planning to introduce you two in Vegas? If it isn’t presumptuous, I wish you would give yourself a chance to get to know her . . . really know her. I know from personal experience, a man doesn’t want to remain the envied, carefree bachelor forever. But even if you’re not romantically interested in her, get to know her as a friend. She’s great fun, and she’s mighty easy to be around.”

  “I was only teasing about Camille. You know I can hardly tolerate her more than two minutes. I guess I don’t wear jealousy or defeat well. I know Brandy’s unique—that’s really why I’m here.”

  “I was invited before you, Steve. Brandy didn’t call me home as her defender. I visit every few months. This is a great place to unwind and to rest. I’ve written some of my best songs here. Go easy on her, Steve. You could hurt her deeply.”