Valley of Fire

by Janelle Taylor

  “Comes naturally,” he muttered against her wet hair, his hands slipping up and down her back. “I remember that day we had lunch when you told me about your demanding lifestyle. You’re right. But don’t you think you should allow time for yourself, Brandy? Don’t you push too hard?”

  “I don’t normally have such a distracting problem as you, Steven. I told you I was selfish, that my schedule would be terrible and demanding on others. Now do you see what I meant?”

  “Too clearly, woman,” he said with a sigh.

  “It’s so complicated, Steven. Most people turn off their work the moment they leave their offices. Mine doesn’t work that way—it’s with me all the time.”

  “You need to learn how to shut on and off, Brandy,” he advised seriously.

  “I know, but that’s easier said than done. The brain is a complex organ—a mind of its own,” she speculated, then laughed.

  “Believe it or not, but I’m learning that.” He lowered himself into the water and tantalized her breasts with little kisses and nips. “But so is the body,” he added.

  Brandy shuddered at his enticing action. “Cold?” he asked.

  “No, burning up,” she replied candidly.

  He stood up and gazed down at her. “Demanding little witch, aren’t you?”

  “I’d best take advantage of this break, because it’s back to work in the morning.”

  “I thought you worked all night and slept all day?” he hinted.

  “I usually do, and I hope so tonight.”

  “You’re going back to work?” he asked incredulously, knowing how late, or early, it was.

  “No, to bed,” she responded, then kissed him greedily.

  “That’s the best idea you’ve had all year, my lovely writer.”

  “Somehow I thought you’d approve,” she murmured, hugging him fiercely.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Brandy sighed peacefully and stretched the next morning, she opened her eyes to discover Steven had returned to his guest room, as usual. Her following sigh was one of intermingled disappointment and longing. She asked herself why she and Steven were continuing this charade. They were adults; after all. She yearned to awaken with him at her side, to begin the new day on a delirious note.

  Both were hesitant to reveal their closeness, even to their mutual friend Nigel Davis. It almost seemed as if unmasking it would subtract something special from it. Yet, Brandy was growing weary of this pretense.

  She had slept late, and the sun was high overhead. After a shower, she dressed and hurried downstairs hoping to see Steven before she locked herself in her office. Steven and Nigel were out riding. She shrugged, then carried her second cup of coffee into her office. Soon, the quiet house lent itself to concentration on the work still at hand.

  Having learned his lesson well, Steven didn’t disturb Brandy that day. Late that afternoon, Brandy leaned back in her office chair and gazed out her window. Her eyes touched on Nigel, who was lying in the grass beside the waterfall next to her home. His arms were folded and propped beneath his curly head. He was relaxing in deep thought, the words of his impending song playing through his keen mind. He looked so serene, an inviting sensation pulled at Brandy.

  She had reached a temporary stopping point. She decided to take a walk, to chat with Nigel before he left, which would be soon. With Steven here she had spent little time with her close friend. She stood up and walked outside, heading for the fast-running brook and rocky cascade to join him. She had glanced around, but hadn’t located Steven. Perhaps he was taking a nap, a walk, or a ride.

  “I thought you came here to write music, not laze around,” she teased Nigel, dropping down beside him.

  He chuckled, casting her a rueful look. “I did, but I’m having too much fun to work around the clock.

  “How’s it going with you and Steve? Got that new story done yet?” he asked, sitting up and gazing over at her.

  “Fine. As for the story, that’s his job.”

  “You best give him more attention, girl. Do whatever he demands to protect yourself,” he jested, winking at her, his expression, but not his words, lost to the turbulent blue eyes which were unknowingly observing them.

  “I can’t believe you’re willing and eager to share me with another man. You must want to protect my name as much as I do,” she quipped in return, grinning at him.

  “You know what I told you, there’s only one way to get to a man like Steven Winngate,” he reminded her of his suggestion of friendship.

  “I’m doing all I can, Nigel. It takes time. I can’t exactly throw myself at his feet. I was spending every available minute with him, until that work arrived. I can only do so much,” she wailed amusingly to Nigel, but not to the worried Steven.

  He leaned over and whispered wickedly in her ear, “Is that where you want to throw yourself?”

  Brandy surged forward to the stream and flung water on her friend. “You’re awful, Nigel Davis! Crude and vulgar!” she taunted laughingly, soaking Nigel from the waist up.

  “You little sneak!” Nigel exploded, his bare feet jumping into the stream to return her mischief in like kind.

  For a time, they splashed and played as carefree as two children. Finally, Nigel left the stream and sank to the grass on his wet back. Brandy joined him, curling against his body and resting her damp head on his outstretched arm. Nigel’s hand lifted and stroked her tawny mane.

  Steven’s rigid body stalked off towards the barn. A variety of feelings and thoughts were running through his mind and body. He halted by the corral fence and stared across the pasture where Brandy had been riding on that first morning.

  “Are you sure you have to leave so soon, Nigel?” Brandy asked.

  “Yep. I have an engagement in San Francisco. Besides, I think it’ll be a good idea for you and Steve to have some privacy.”

  His tone of voice hinted at suspicion of their relationship. Brandy started to say something, then stopped herself. “Where is Steven?” she asked instead.

  “He was sleeping by the pool. We took a swim earlier.”

  “I think I’ll go speak with him before I get back to work.”

  “Not finished yet?”

  “Nope. I have to complete it tonight.”

  When Brandy went to search for Steven, she noticed him standing by the fence, his outstretched hands gripping the top rail tightly. She smiled happily, recalling their blissful night. She headed toward him.

  She ducked her head and passed under his left arm, to place herself between his body and the fence, between his strong arms. Her softened gaze lifted to meet his fathomless one. “Taking a break?” he asked guardedly.

  “You did say I was working too hard,” she teased, boldly laying her face against his chest and easing her arms around his taut body. “I thought you were napping by the pool. I was thinking about you, so I came looking for you.”

  “Thinking about me?” he echoed skeptically, remaining rigid.

  “Yes,” she responded warmly, her hands moving over his tight muscles, wondering at his coolness.

  “Nothing like a man around to stifle the creative flow, huh?”

  Brandy’s head leaned backwards, and she looked up into his unreadable expression. “Is something wrong, Steven?”

  “Just tired. Too quiet to sleep here, or too noisy with those million crickets and frogs screaming at each other all night. Not much to do around here with my pet project working all the time.”

  Brandy sensed Steven wasn’t venting his real feelings. “I suppose a man like you would find this kind of life boring and secluded. I’m sorry you aren’t enjoying your stay. I guess I’m a terrible hostess.” She dropped her hands to her sides and stepped back against the fence. “You planning to leave soon?” she asked very softly.

  “I sh
ould be heading home. I have lots of work to do. Besides, you have Nigel to keep you company, when you finish your work.”

  “I was hoping to finish my work tonight. Nigel’s leaving in two days.” Brandy pondered the look—was it of unleashed jealousy?—on his face. “I was taking a break, so I thought I should spend a few minutes with him. I have been neglecting him since your arrival.”

  “Does he always drown his . . . sister in the stream?” he asked, glancing over her wet curls and clothes. “You two looked like you were having great fun.”

  “Why didn’t you come over?” she questioned, knowing that sight had annoyed him irrationally.

  “I didn’t think you two wanted to be disturbed,” he replied frostily.

  “Don’t be silly. We were just playing around.”

  “Are you just playing around, Brandy?” he queried oddly, his hands dropping to his sides and his gaze fusing with hers.

  “I don’t catch your meaning . . . Are you jealous of Nigel?” she asked incredulously, candidly.

  “Should I be?” he responded with another question.

  “I’m flattered, but no. Considering our relationship, I’m confused by your doubts about me. You know Nigel and I have never . . .”

  Brandy flushed brightly, clamping her mouth shut. “I’d better get back to work, or I’ll never make that deadline,” she stated hurriedly, then started to walk away.

  Steven caught her arm. “Brandy, I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I guess I am jealous. You’re a mighty tempting lady, and I don’t like sharing with anyone while I’m around. I’m sorry. I’m not bored or miserable here, just restless with you busy. I was thinking about Glitter. Once this mess is cleared up, perhaps I should sell it. I only purchased it to get them off my case; I seemed to be an obsession or favorite topic with them. If I don’t sell it, I plan to change the format and content.”

  Brandy’s probing eyes met his entreating ones. His words were not totally convincing. Why did he always act this way when they were getting close? Maybe too close for comfort? Was he worried she was reading too much into this stimulating vacation? Why did he draw her to him as a powerful magnet, then frantically switch poles to desperately repel her? Was Steven Winngate capable of feeling sincere jealousy? Possessiveness, yes, but real jealousy, no . . .

  When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Am I forgiven?”

  “Sure, Steven. Why not?” she stated flippantly. “See you tomorrow. I’ll be working all night.” She struck a fast pace back to the house. She hadn’t even replied to his mention of Glitter or its sale.

  Brandy didn’t appear for dinner that night. Steven fumed inwardly over his stupidity. Nigel was too mentally engrossed by his song-writing to notice Steven’s black mood.

  Around midnight Nigel went to the bar to fix himself a nightcap. As he passed Brandy’s office, he could hear her berating herself. He halted and did an unusual thing—he opened the door and looked inside. Brandy glanced up and smiled faintly, motioning him inside. It didn’t matter. She had already showered and was dressed for bed in a satin nightgown, totally decent and concealed by her matching robe in magenta.

  “Talking to yourself?” he jested, shaking his finger at her.

  “Darn it, Nigel, I can’t seem to finish this,” she said in exasperation.

  She was sitting on the floor and leaning against a small sofa, her work in her lap. He came forward and sat down. He pulled her into his arms and murmured, “Keep at it, love. It’ll work out. Don’t give up so easily.”

  “So easily,” she scoffed. “It isn’t working at all.”

  Nigel cupped her chin, lifted her head, and kissed her lightly on the lips. “You can do it, love. You always succeed.”

  “Do I?” she panted.

  “Be kind to yourself, Brandy,” he ordered.

  “I’m sorry, Nigel. I just can’t keep my mind on this when—”

  When she halted, he laughed and speculated, “When you’d rather be with Steve?”

  “Why did Devon need revisions at this time? I just finished one book and their other revisions. I wanted to rest and have fun before it was time to begin my next book. The way it looks now, I won’t even have time to breathe, much less spend any time with Steven! He’s planning to leave,” she murmured softly.

  “Did you tell him I’d be gone in two days? That could change his mind. I do seem to crimp his style,” he jested.

  Steven leaned against the wall and smiled as he continued his bold eavesdropping. “Steven Winngate is like mercury, Nigel, up one minute and down the next. He’s the most infuriating, exasperating, unpredictable, complex man I’ve ever met!” she vowed.

  “In other words, he’s fantastic, and he’s getting to you?”

  “I honestly don’t know how I feel about him. He has me so unnerved and confused that I can’t think straight,” she admitted.

  “Then entice him into staying after I leave. What better way to get to know each other?”

  “I don’t think he wants to hang around any longer.”

  “Play your cards right, and he will,” Nigel declared smugly.

  “Spoken like a diehard gambler,” she jested.

  “I’ll leave you to your work. Good night, sis.”

  “Good night, Nigel. You’re the best big brother a girl could have.”

  Steven went into the den to carry out a stirring plan. Nigel left Brandy fretting over her work. Assuming Steven was taking a walk, Nigel turned in for the night.

  Steven explored the bar’s refrigerator, and his eyes brightened when they touched on a bottle of champagne. He confiscated it and lifted two glasses. He headed for her office. He soundlessly opened the door. Brandy was lying on the floor on her stomach, facing the other direction. Her robe had been removed and tossed on the sofa. He watched her a moment, gathering his courage.

  “Damn!” she snapped impatiently, then flung the pages and red pen aside. “Your concentration is zilch, Brandy!” she scolded herself, then laid her face on the carpeted floor. “Give it up for tonight.”

  Brandy didn’t hear the lock on her door click as Steven made his daring move. He strolled forward as she pushed herself to a sitting position. “Think this will help relax you?” his mellow voice coaxed.

  Brandy jumped and looked over at him. “Before you say anything, Brandy, I’m not disturbing you. I looked in first. You appeared at wit’s end, so I thought this might help.”

  Brandy glanced at the champagne and glasses in his grip. Her smoldering eyes lifted to forge with his. She smiled appreciatively. “Your timing is perfect, Steven. Thanks,” she stated honestly.

  Brandy leaned against the sofa as he sat down on the floor beside her. “You sure I’m not interfering?” he pressed.

  “Absolutely not,” she murmured.

  He grinned in pleasure, then opened the bottle. He poured a glass of golden liquid and handed it to her, then did the same for himself. He set the bottle aside and leaned against the sofa with her. “To a very talented lady, who brings great pleasure into my life, as well as into her readers’,” he stated huskily, lifting his glass to her.

  She touched his glass with hers, then drained its contents. “Is it too late to ask if I can lag behind when Nigel leaves?” he asked softly.

  “No,” she replied succinctly, grinning at him.

  “Well? May I?” he pressed for an affirmative answer.

  “If you’d like,” she said, laughing happily.

  He frowned amusingly. “I most assuredly would like to remain.”

  “Good,” she purred saucily, then laughed as he filled her glass once more. “Trying to ply me with liquor, Winngate? Champagne goes right to one’s head, especially on an empty stomach.”

  He chuckled and shrugged innocently.

  “May I ask a crazy question?” she
inquired, eyeing him speculatively.

  He met her inquisitive look and nodded.

  “Why are you trying to buy every book I’ve written, even those temporarily out of print?”

  Steven went rigid; he paled slightly. How much did she know? he mused worriedly. “How do you know I am?” he asked curiously.

  “Casey told me. Why?” she pressed insistently, sipping her drink, his reaction passing unnoticed.

  “I find you most fascinating and gifted. Now that I know you so well, I want to line a bookshelf with everything you’ve done. Naturally, I’m looking for first printings,” he teased to disarm her. “If I have them delivered to you, will you sign each one?”

  “I’m flattered; a whole shelf dedicated to Brandy Alexander. Of course I’ll sign each one. But I doubt one shelf will hold them all. I’ve written over fifty books.”

  “Fifty-six, to be exact,” he smugly informed her.

  Her eyes widened in astonishment. “I’ve been checking around. I wanted to know all about you and your works,” he clarified before she could question him. “I prefer to know my subject well. I’ve also viewed or read a copy of every interview you’ve given. Besides being talented and successful, you’re an exceptionally likable person, and I’m awfully glad I met you.” If Casey had told Brandy other suspicious actions, he wanted to innocently confess them before she demanded an explanation. “I hired someone else to do my investigative research. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Mind? How could I? I’m honored and delighted you take such interest and care with your work and integrity. If you’re dedicating a whole library shelf to me, what should I dedicate to you?” she playfully deliberated. “I know—my next book. Let’s see . . .” she mumbled thoughtfully, sipping her third glass of heady champagne. “I could say, ‘To Steven, who saved my life, and then taught me how to live it to the fullest.’ ”

  He chuckled in delight. “If you mention my name, every woman around will be seeking me out to see what I taught you,” he jested sexily.

  “In that case, the inscription will read, ‘To Sir Lancelot.” She began to laugh at the expression on Steven’s face. “No?” she hinted.