Clay leaned back against the rock, getting comfortable after finishing his lunch. “Yeah. It’s right in the middle of a town, but when you walk into that courtyard, it’s like walking back in time. It’s peaceful…sort of like you.”
Aly followed suit, relaxing against the wall, the overhang protecting them fully from the sun. She was pleasantly full and suddenly very tired. Closing her eyes she muttered, “I remind you of peace?”
Clay nodded. “I wasn’t the only one to notice that quality about you. Dan and Sam did, too. We all agree you’re like an island of peace when there’s a storm raging around us. I think part of it is your husky voice. Another part of it is just you, the way you handle yourself during an emergency. I know it makes me feel more relaxed having you in that right seat.”
She luxuriated in his softly spoken compliment. “I haven’t felt like an island or haven of peace since we met, Clay.”
“That’s going to change,” he promised her.
“I’m glad,” Aly whispered, barely opening her eyes. “And I’ve got to tell you, it feels good to know that.”
His smile was gentle as he opened his eyes and met hers. “It feels good for both of us.”
Aly couldn’t agree more, the hot noontime air making her sleepy. “Clay…I’m beat. Can we catch a few minutes of sleep?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, “go ahead. We shouldn’t be walking in this kind of heat, anyway. Take a long nap, Aly. We’re going to wait until 1600 before we tackle that hill again.”
Tipping her head back, Aly strove to get as comfortable as possible, glad that Clay was sensible about the trek. “Great,” she murmured, “I’ll see you in a few hours….” Within minutes, she was sleeping deeply.
It wasn’t hard for Clay to fall asleep, either. He’d been up all night, thinking and feeling his way through the mess he’d created for himself and Aly. Her smile wavered before his closed eyes. Her laughter had sent such a sharpened shaft of longing through him. She had laughed! With him! Ever since that first harrowing night at sea when she’d clung to him in her sleep, Clay had hungered to have her near him once again. He dreamed that Aly was in his arms once again.
Aly awoke slowly, drenched in sweat. The air was hot and dry, and as she inhaled, Clay’s unmistakable scent entered her flaring nostrils. Her head lay on something softer than a rock. She rubbed her cheek, feeling the texture of cloth beneath it. Confused, she dragged her eyes open.
Sometime during the afternoon hours while she’d slept, Aly had turned to the right, using Clay’s body as a pillow. Her head lay on his broad shoulder, her cheek tucked next to his jaw. Shocked, Aly lay very still. When had she turned and snuggled up against Clay? And then she realized that he was snoring softly, asleep, and unaware of what she’d done.
Relief fled through Aly, and she relaxed. Clay would never know that she craved his closeness, hungered to have his arms around her as she had the night in the raft. She gently pressed those feelings into her heart. Absorbing his scent, his quiet masculine strength, Aly lay still, more content than she had ever been.
Clay invited a sense of peace, too, she thought languidly. Little did he realize just how much he was an island, a haven in her tension-filled world of flying. Still, it was kind of him to confide that he and the crew liked her calming ability on the flights.
Unconsciously nuzzling beneath his jaw, Aly smiled softly. How could she tell Clay that she had never expected him to be able to see what he was doing to both of them, much less apologize to her? Aly knew that it took someone of incredible depth and honesty to search himself ruthlessly like that. And it said something vitally important about Clay Cantrell: although he had a strong ego, he didn’t allow his pride to get in the way of making apologies. So few men had the ability to release their pride and allow themselves to be wrong, much less admit it!
Aly’s interlude was interrupted when she felt something crawling across her hand that was in the sling. She frowned and raised her head, looking down. A scream escaped her. It was a scorpion crawling across her fingers!
She leaped to her feet, slapping at the poisonous creature, flinging it off her. As she did so, her booted feet slipped on the shalelike rock, and she fell backward.
Clay jerked up at Aly’s first scream. Disoriented, he felt her leap away from him. He opened his eyes just in time to see her start to fall. Automatically, he threw out both his arms to catch her.
“Oh, Clay!” she cried, sagging against him.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Aly trembled, finding safety within his arms as he turned her toward him. “It was a scorpion! Ugh! It was awful!” she wailed, pointing at the area where it had landed.
Worriedly, he looked down at her, sleep torn away from him. “Did it sting you?”
“N-no. I was just coming awake on your shoulder when—when that horrible little creature started crawling across my left hand. Ugh!” And Aly buried her face against his chest, closing her eyes.
“Damn,” Cantrell muttered, holding her tightly to him, “that was close. Those little bastards are really poisonous down here in Baja.” Automatically, Clay stroked her hair, finding it thick and warm beneath his fingers. “It’s okay, Aly. It’s gone, and I don’t see any more of them around.”
The terror began to recede and Aly was wildly aware of Clay’s arms around her, her breasts pressed to his chest. She gulped in a breath, her right hand sliding across his flight suit, feeling his muscles leap and respond beneath her palm. She pushed the hair away from her eyes. “I—I’m okay now,” she whispered. “You can let go of me.” She wanted anything but that!
“Sure?” Clay held her at arm’s length, keeping both hands on her shoulders. Aly was pale, her eyes dark with fear.
Nodding jerkily, she muttered, “Sure.” When his hands fell away, she felt bereft. “I don’t want to have to use that snake-venom kit we’re carrying,” she stammered.
“That makes both of us, sweetheart.” He watched her for a long moment, to make sure she wasn’t going to faint or something. Clay tried to forget their close contact, and how good her small breasts felt against him. She was so much woman that it made him ache.
“What else does that manual say about this area? What other kinds of poisonous creatures lurk around here?” Aly demanded.
Clay grinned, leading her back to their niche and helping her to sit. “We’ve got tarantulas.”
“Ugh! I hate spiders even more.” Aly shivered.
“They aren’t poisonous, really,” Clay tried to assure her.
“I’ll bet there are snakes, too. Probably rattlers.”
“Yeah, plenty of them.”
“What else?”
He grinned at her. “What is this? Punish Aly with as many ugly little creatures as we can find? Are you a masochist?”
She gave him a nervous smile. “I may be Superwoman in the cockpit, but insects are my undoing.”
“Where do snakes fit in on your priority list of horrors?” Cantrell teased.
“Insects are number one. Snakes are second.”
“You’d better add coral snakes, too, then.”
Aly groaned. “Clay, those are the most poisonous snakes on the North American continent! Are you telling me they make Baja their home?”
He suppressed his smile. “Yes.” Aly was truly shaken. But he had to admit that he kind of enjoyed her little-girl reaction. It was nice to know that she wasn’t perfect, and that this was an area where he could be strong for her. Crawling creatures didn’t faze him in the least.
“What else is in your Little Shop of Horrors, Cantrell? You’re gloating over my reaction. I can tell you are….”
His grin widened by inches. Reaching out, he gripped her right hand, giving it a tender squeeze. “I can’t help it, Aly. Snakes and such don’t bother me at all.”
“Good for you, Cantrell. They do me.”
She was beginning to smile. That was good. If he could tease her out of her terror, that made him feel of some use in this new and tentative partn
ership. “There’s one more—”
“Ohh, I knew it! You’re saving the worst for last, aren’t you?”
Chuckling, he said, “Gila monsters.”
“Oh, they’re lizards.”
“Not all that terrible, eh?”
Aly hedged. “Well, they have four legs and they look a little less threatening than a spider or a horrible scorpion.”
“They’re the most poisonous, next to a coral snake. You’d better set them first on your list,” he warned.
“I used to have a pet horned toad,” Aly assured him, her fear dissipating under his attention and care. She gave him a strained smile. “Lizards are okay in my book.”
“Well,” he growled, “the Gila monster isn’t your friendly neighborhood lizard. He’s got a set of choppers that dispense some of the worst poison known to man. That snakebite kit we carry will hardly counteract that bastard’s venom.”
“You sound like an expert on the little fella,” she taunted good-naturedly, delighted that the shoe was on the other foot.
“While you were sleeping last night, I was reading our survival manual by moonlight. Seriously, Aly, if you see a black and red lizard, stay the hell away from it, you hear me? The manual said if the lizard bites, his fangs remain sunken in you until he can close them.”
Aly had the good grace to lose her smile. “You mean his jaws lock?”
“Yeah, and it’s not pretty.”
“Okay,” Aly breathed. “I swear, I’ll stay away from Gila monsters.”
Satisfied he’d convinced her of the danger, Clay nodded. “Smart lady.” He looked at his watch. It was nearly 1600. The worst of the heat was over by now. “You ready for another stroll?”
More than ready to leave the area where the scorpion lived, Aly got to her feet. “Let’s go. I don’t like the critters in this neighborhood.”
Chapter Nine
The second set of hills were crossed by early evening. Occasionally, Clay would look over at Aly, who walked at his shoulder. Right now, they traversed a small, sandy valley, the hills surrounding them like rounded loaves of golden brown bread. He was happy, he realized, almost having forgotten what the feeling was like.
After the scorpion incident, Aly had withdrawn again, remaining silent for the most part during the past two hours. Was it because he’d held her? Sadness moved through Clay. He couldn’t blame her for that kind of reaction. If someone had rebuffed him for nine months solid, he wouldn’t trust them much, either.
Trust…The word moved gently through him as he thought about it in relation to Aly and himself. He needed to build a bridge of trust between them again. Why? With a snort, Clay knew the answer. He’d fallen in love with her. But he had to be out of his mind to think, even hope, that she might eventually love him. How could she, after what he’d done to her?
Still, Clay wanted to establish a beachhead of trust. He wanted to be friends with Aly, if nothing else. With his spirits buoyed, his step lightened.
“See that set of boulders?” he asked her, pointing straight ahead. Three oblong boulders rose thirty feet into the air, positioned next to one another in a semicircle.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, Aly nodded. “Yeah. We get to rest?”
“Dinner stop,” Clay promised, flashing her an easy smile.
Frowning as they approached the boulders, Aly muttered, “I wonder if there are any spiders or scorpions around?” And she began to look in each nook and cranny.
“Let me look. You sit down and rest. You’re beat.”
“Thanks,” Aly said, finding a spot relatively free of rocks, and sliding into a sitting position. The sun had sunk behind the first set of hills, the strong rays divided upward like spokes in a wheel. The sky was turning salmon pink.
“No, I don’t think there are any creepy-crawlies,” Clay told her, settling next to her. Bare inches separated them. “Hungry?”
“Starved.”
Clay grinned at the fervor in her voice, settling the large backpack in front of him and digging out two MREs.
Aly leaned back, resting her hand against her left arm. Her shoulder ached from all the jostling and jerking it had received. Admittedly, if Clay hadn’t caught her a couple of times, she’d have fallen, and possibly done more damage to it. She barely opened her eyes, watching Clay through her lashes. His face was incredibly relaxed, and there was a glint of silver in his eyes; something she’d seen only once before—and that was when he kissed her when he was drunk.
“I actually think you like this hike we’re taking,” she muttered.
“Yeah, I’m enjoying it.”
“You must have grown up in the country,” she accused.
Clay fixed up the MRE with a bit of water and handed it to Aly. “And you must have grown up in a city.”
She took the plastic bag, scowling at him. “Is it that obvious?”
“It is when you shriek every time you see a little critter.”
Aly had the good grace to laugh, realizing he was baiting her. Clay’s answering smile tore at her senses, and she found herself wanting to move into his arms, just to be held. “You’re a sadist, Cantrell. You’re enjoying the discovery of my Achilles’ heel a little too much.” Aly wasn’t able to stop the grin from crossing her mouth.
Settling back, Clay spooned into the MRE. “So tell me, what city raised you?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “It was a number of cities, smart aleck. My father was a general in the Air Force, and we literally got transferred all over the world.”
“That should have gotten you used to a lot of different situations.”
“Most of the houses we lived in didn’t have spiders and scorpions in them, Cantrell.”
“Just where did you develop this fear, Miss Trayhern?”
She loved the boyish look on Clay’s face, and she welcomed his attention and teasing. “Well,” she muttered, “If I tell you, do you promise not to be like Starbuck and blab it all over the station?”
“No one’s like Starbuck,” Clay growled. He brightened and held up his right hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever a Boy Scout?” Aly probed mercilessly. “I know how you jet jocks are. You’ve got lines for any and all occasions. You guys lie for a living when it comes to women.”
Chuckling, Clay nodded. “Man, you’ve got our type pinned down, don’t you?”
“It comes from experience, Cantrell. Those student jet jocks hit on me too many times at Pensacola. I got pretty good at seeing a line coming from a mile away.” Aly held his amused gaze. “I even had a couple raise their hand just like you did, and swear on Scout’s honor, only to find out later that they’d never been Boy Scouts. Now you understand why I question your gesture.”
This was the real Aly, he realized humbly. A wisecracking lady who could land on her feet. His smile widened, and he fought a very real urge to slip his arm around her shoulders, draw her close and kiss those upturned corners of her provocative mouth. “First of all, I was a Boy Scout. Matter of fact, I made Eagle Scout.”
“Impressive. You must have gotten your hand-em-a-line badge after you joined the Navy.”
“Watch it, Trayhern.”
Delighted, Aly hooted. “To fast for you, fly-boy?”
“No one’s faster than me,” he gloated, a threat in his tone.
Aly chuckled between bites, trading warm glances with Clay. What a wonderful sense of humor he’d been hiding from her all these months. Momentary sadness struck her, but Aly rallied. He was trying to change, she realized. Clay was trying to make up for all the pain and hurt he’d caused her. Her smile dissolved as she made that connection.
“Aly? Where’d you take off to?” Clay had seen the dancing gold highlights disappear from her wide, telling eyes. And her smile had disappeared, too.
“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry, Clay. I just got to thinking, was all. It’s nothing.”
He cocked his head, catching her gaze. “Nothing?” he mimicked, trying to cajole her into telling him wha
t she was really thinking about.
Forcing a slight smile, Aly muttered, “Don’t mind me. I nosedive every once in a while.”
Not convinced, but not knowing how to pull whatever was bothering her out into the open, Clay straightened. He took another tack.
“After my father died, my mother moved us back to Dubuque, Iowa. She loved the fields of corn and wanted to raise us in the country, away from the cities.” He ate more slowly, allowing those memories to well up within him. “I guess they found my mom on somebody’s doorstep around Christmas one year, and she was raised in a succession of foster families in New York City. She hated big cities, telling us that concrete, glass and steel weren’t going to teach us a thing. We had to go to the country to find out what life was all about.” He laughed softly and shared a warm look with Aly, who had stopped eating and was listening intently.
“So, after my father died in that jet crash—which I don’t remember, because I was barely a year old—we moved to Iowa. My first memories are of sitting on top of this huge black and white Holstein cow. I must have been three years old at the time. My mother was holding me up there, and Stephen was taking a picture of the two of us. I was bawling my eyes out because the cow scared the hell out of me.”
“Did your mother like animals?” Aly asked, touched that Clay would share such a personal moment of his life with her.
He finished off the rest of the MRE, stowing the bag and plastic spoon in the pack. “She loved animals. Horses, especially.” Leaning back, his hands behind his head, Clay watched the changing colors of the sky as sunset neared. “I guess as close as she ever got to having a horse was that big old cow. We rented an old four-room house from this farmer who owned a dairy herd. And this one old cow, Bossy, was real tame. Actually, it was Stephen’s idea to put me up on Bossy and pretend that she was a horse for me to ride. Mom went along with the idea. They had great fun, but I was scared to death.”
A soft smile touched Aly’s lips. “It sounds as if you had a wonderful time growing up in Iowa.” Pain over Stephen’s death made her ache for Clay. But he didn’t appear unhappy right now. Instead, there was excitement in his voice, as if he were sharing these vignettes for the first time.
No Surrender Page 15
