... and here you are, in a farmhouse in Tuscany .. .' 'Here I am, in my farmhouse in Tuscany .. .'
'Is it really yours?'
He nodded. 'I bought it three years ago. I was in Florence, on business. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing.'
'I don't blame you for falling in love with it,' Blair said. 'The house, the hills, the isolation .. .'
'You're right, but it was nothing that romantic. In my line of work, it pays to have places where you can go to ground in an emergency.'
'What they call a safe house?' She laughed at the look of surprise on his face. 'More James Bond, I'm afraid.'
Hunter grinned. 'But accurate. Actually, I thought about selling the place just a few months ago. But I'm glad I didn't. If I had, I wouldn't be here, boring a beautiful woman to death .. .'
'Me?' Her voice was a whisper.
'I don't see anyone else in the room, do you?' He looked into her eyes and smiled. 'You're an enigma, Meryl Blair Desmond,' he said softly. 'Sometimes you seem so damned innocent and ... Are you sure you're the same woman who announced she wanted to go down in the Guinness Book of Records as having danced in every fountain in every capital city in the world?'
Blair blinked. 'Did I... is that what I said?'
Rhys laughed. 'That's a quote straight out of your file.' He took a step towards her. 'But you're not anything like that woman, Blair.'
Her eyes closed, and then opened slowly as he reached out and touched her cheek.
'All that proves,' she said breathlessly, 'is that sometimes things aren't the way they seem to be. Everything isn't always black or white .. .'
Behind them, the pot hissed suddenly as hot liquid bubbled over its sides and spilled on to the fire. Rhys grabbed the handle and shoved it to the back of the stove. He sniffed appreciatively.
'OK,' he said solemnly, 'you're right.' Blair looked at him in surprise. 'I am?'
He laughed as he ruffled her hair. 'Things aren't always black or white, at least, not when it comes to food. Ratatouille may sound like hell, but it smells like heaven.'
CHAPTER NINE
BLAIR stirred as the voices of Simon and Garfunkel faded into the silence of the car. Beside her, Hunter glanced away from the road just long enough to remove the tape from the cassette player and insert another. She smiled as she recognized the Debussy melody, its soft poignancy a perfect match for the rainy greyness of the day.
'I like your taste in music, Hunter.'
Hunter grinned. 'I was just thinking the same thing about you, Miss Desmond.' He glanced at her as she smothered a yawn. 'Tired?'
'Umm--' she said, arching her back. 'A little.' An embarrassed smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. 'Although I can't imagine why. I don't think I've ever slept twelve hours straight before.'
He laughed softly. 'All on one glass of wine. You should have told me the effect alcohol has on you right at the start. I'd have waved an open bottle of wine under your nose that first day and I wouldn't have had a minute’s trouble with you after that.'
Blair smiled as she lay her head back against the seat, watching as the wipers moved slowly across the windscreen.
'Aunt Annie would have called me a cheap drunk.' 'I'm beginning to think I'd like to meet this aunt of yours,' Hunter said. 'She sounds like a lady after my own heart.'
'You'd like her,' Blair said, before she could stop herself. 'And she'd like you.'
Hunter reached across the console and clasped her hand lightly in his. 'I guess you take after her side of the family, hmm?'
Satisfied, Blair? 'Something like that,' she said carefully.
'Where does she live?' 'In ... in the States.'
His eyebrows rose. 'How many chances do I get to guess which one?'
She laughed, wondering if the laugh sounded as forced as it felt. 'Come on, Hunter. Stop playing private eye. What is this, a security check?'
He glanced at her and then back at the road. 'It's what's known as getting to know someone better. Do you realize I've talked my fool head off, and I still don't know anything about you?'
'You know everything about me,' she said. Her voice sounded stilted, even to her own ears, and she forced a smile to her lips. 'I mean, you've got everything about me filed away in a drawer, haven't you? What more could you possibly want to know?'
Hunter shrugged his shoulders. 'The information that makes up a client profile is usually pretty superficial.' He glanced at her and smiled. 'Although what I recall of yours is rather intriguing.'
Jealousy shot through her so suddenly and sharply that it hurt. Stop that! she told herself. Are you crazy? He thinks you're Meryl, doesn't he? You can't be jealous of that. ..
'Meaning?' she asked carefully.
He smiled. 'It said you danced in fountains. But it didn't say you know all the words to "Mrs Robinson". Or that you can make a mean ratatouille. Or that you cry when you hear gypsy violins .. .'
Blair laughed softly. 'I wasn't crying, I was laughing.
I've never heard such strange stuff over the radio. What did you say that was? A Yugoslavian programme?'
He nodded. 'I'm glad I remembered that old portable radio was in the cupboard.' He glanced at her, and then back at the road. 'Did you really enjoy last night?' 'Of course I did,' she said, smiling at him. 'Well, I did until that second glass of Chianti hit .. .' 'Are you sure?'
The laughter had left his voice. 'Yes,' she said softly.
His hand covered hers. 'I'm glad,' he said simply.
A heavy silence filled the car, and finally Blair cleared her throat. 'Did you? Enjoy last night, I mean?'
He glanced at her and a teasing smile lit his face. 'It was terrific-right up until the second you passed out.' Blair winced. 'I can't believe I did that. I'm just glad ...
I thought drunks babbled on endlessly. Are you sure I didn't?'
'God, woman, you've asked me that half a dozen times, 'he said with a groan. 'What dark secrets do you have? I told you, you were fine. There we were, waltzing around the kitchen, and suddenly you got this strange look on your face .. .'
'No more wine for me,' she said with conviction. Hunter nodded. 'I agree,' he said solemnly. 'It's bad for a man's reputation to carry a woman to bed, tuck her in, and spend the rest of the night sleeping on the floor, listening to her snore.'
Blair laughed. 'I don't snore. And if you don't mind sleeping on the floor, why didn't you the other night?' He shrugged. 'The circumstances were different, remember?'
Yes, she thought, laying her head back against the. seat, they certainly were. A few days ago, the man beside her had terrified her. Now, the same man could bring a smile to her face with just a word. He could make her feel more contentment than she'd ever known just by coming into the room. He could make her heart turn over when he touched her, even if it were only to take her hand in his. And when he kissed her-oh, God, when he kissed her ...
A tremor rippled through her as she remembered the taste and feel of his mouth. The intensity of her feelings frightened her. She had read of passion, seen it depicted on the screen, but nothing had prepared her for the fire that swept through her when she was in Rhys's arms. She wanted him to caress her, to whisper things no man had whispered before-even though the still rational part of her mind told her that was not only impossible, it was dangerous.
It was getting harder and harder to remember that she was playing a role. And yet, that was the only reason she was here, riding along a dusty road beside this man she hadn't even known existed three days ago. If she hadn't agreed to do Meryl a favour ... if everything had gone smoothly at the airport if she hadn't at first thought lying would save her life Never mind all that, Blair. The simple truth is that you're here, pretending to be someone you're not, lying to a man who believes in you ...
She shifted uncomfortably. Drinking that Chianti last night had been incredibly foolish. She never drank anything more than a bit of sherry-how many times had Meryl teased her about that? Well, she hadn't been thinking straight. They'd b
een having such a good time, laughing and talking and ...
She glanced over at him. Was it possible she'd wanted to get drunk? She was too much a coward to tell him the truth sober, but if the wine had loosened her tongue ... No, she thought, looking away from him, no, that was too crazy. It was simply that they'd been having so much fun last night. Rhys had produced a bouquet of wild flowers for the centre of the table, and then he'd lit candles to dine by. And then, after dinner, he'd remembered that old radio.
'It won't work,' he'd said, fiddling with the dial. 'The batteries are years old.' ,
But it had worked. They'd picked up some tinny station playing sad gypsy music.
'Ahh, Natasha, may I have this dance?' Rhys had asked.
And she'd curtsied and settled into his arms, and he'd whirled her around the room, faster and faster, until suddenly everything had begun to spin wildly and ...
When she awakened, she was alone. The bed felt chill and damp; she could hear rain pattering lightly on the tile roof, the sound of the drops like tiny explosions in her head. And when she sat up, her stomach seemed to rise with her. She pushed the blanket aside and swung her feet to the floor. She was in her underthings-the spare set from Meryl's carry-on-although she couldn't remember having got undressed. But there were her trousers and her sweater, neatly folded and lying on the dresser. But how ... ?
'Rhys,' she whispered, closing her eyes, recalling ~he shadowy memory of strong arms lifting her and putting her gently on the bed and firm, warm lips against hers and ...
'Coffee will make you feel better.' Hunter grinned from the doorway. 'Come on,' he said, holding out a mug. 'You can do it.'
Well she thought, pulling up the blanket and clutching it to her, he was still talking to her. And he was smiling, all of which meant she hadn't let anything slip last night. It did mean that, didn't it?
'I'm not sure I can do anything,' she mumbled. 'What happened to me?'
He laughed aloud; 'You passed out in the middle of dinner, that's what happened. You looked at your second glass of vino and wham, that was it.'
'Wham?' she repeated, touching her hand lightly to, her aching head.
'It was as if somebody had hit you with a good right cross to the chin,' he said. 'One minute you were perfectly fine, and the next you were in never-never land.' He grinned and waggled the mug at her. 'Come on, drink this down and you'll feel better.'
She tossed the blanket over her shoulder and got to her feet. She felt better already, knowing she hadn't said anything she shouldn't-at least, until she started padding across the room. Then her stomach began to complain.
'I ... I'm not sure I can get that coffee down,' she said doubtfully.
'Just drink,' Rhys urged, holding the mug to her lips. 'Take it all in one big swallow.'
Blair wrinkled her nose. 'Ugh-what is that stuff? It doesn't smell like coff .. .'
She gagged as he tilted the mug to her mouth.
Whatever he was feeding her was vile. She tried to turn away, but his other hand caught the back of her head and held her still.
'Drink it,' he commanded. 'If you make me spoon-feed it to you, it'll only take longer and taste worse.'
She knew better than to doubt him. His voice told her he meant every word, and Aunt Annie had once doused her with castor oil in much the same way. Blair closed her eyes and swallowed.
'That's it. A little more. Good girl,' he said, beaming at her. 'Now, that wasn't so awful, was it?'
She shuddered. 'You said you had coffee in that mug,' she said accusingly.
He laughed and tweaked her nose. 'I said coffee would make you feel better. And it will, now that you've had a dose of Mandrake the Medic's Magic Elixir.' 'Mandrake the Medic's what?' she asked, 'laughing in spite of herself.
'Magic Elixir.' He grinned at her over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen. 'It's what the medic in my platoon used to feed the guys for a hangover.'
'I haven't got a hangover,' Blair said indignantly, padding after him. 'I just feel a little under the weather.' Hunter grinned and handed her a mug. 'Coffee,' he said. 'Honest.'
She peered at him doubtfully, but there was no mistaking the aroma of the dark, steaming liquid.
'All right,' she said with a sigh, 'I believe you.' The blanket slipped off her shoulder as she reached for the mug and she tugged it up quickly. 'Er-by the way, Hunter, thank you for .. .' A wash of rose tinged her cheeks. 'I assume you put me to bed,' she said at last, forcing her eyes to remain on his.
'I did,' he said politely. 'It was purely in the line of duty, of course.'
Blair nodded. 'Of course,' she said with dignity.
'Thank you.'
'You're welcome.'
There was laughter in his grey eyes, but she refused to acknowledge it. Besides, it was silly to feel embarrassed, wasn't it? This was the same man who had forcibly undressed her two nights ago. He'd seen her in her underclothes before. But it was different now. Everything was different ...
Hunter reached out and touched his hand to her cheek. 'I was an absolute gentleman,' he said softly.
The colour in her cheeks darkened. 'I'm sure you were.
I ...'
'I want you wide awake when I make love to you, Blair.'
His voice was husky, his words a whisper. Her eyes widened in surprise as they met the silver heat of his. When, he'd said, not if... The breath caught in her throat. His hand was still against her cheek, the touch of his fingers suddenly electric.
'Rhys,' she whispered and then she swallowed, searching for something to say, but he smiled and touched his fingers to her mouth.
'We've got to drive into Florence,' he said. 'I wish to hell we didn't, but I don't want to take any chances. Being stuck out here with the car the way it is could be bad news.'
'Yes,' she said gratefully, letting her breath out, 'the car ...'
'The trip's going to take longer than it should. I don't want to put too much strain on the car.'
She nodded. 'Right. Just let me get dressed .. .'
He smiled. 'Drink your coffee first. I made it strong and sweet.'
'But I never take sugar.' 'Drink,' he said firmly. 'Go on.'
She sighed as she lifted the mug to her lips. 'Doesn't anyone ever win an argument with you, Hunter?' His only answer was a smile, and she sighed again and then gulped the coffee down. 'Satisfied?'
'No,' he said, 'not quite.'
'But I drank the coffee. Every drop.' 'You haven't said good morning to me.'
'Of course I have. I .. .' The look in his eyes was unyielding and she blew out her breath. 'All right. Good morning.'
He shook his head. 'Try it again.' 'Hunter, I ...'
'Rhys,' he said softly.
She felt a rush of heat as she looked at him. It was such a simple request-or was it? She felt as if he were asking her something more, something she was afraid to answer ...
And then he smiled into her eyes and she was lost. 'Good morning, Rhys,' she whispered.
His hand went to the nape of her neck and she swayed towards him, but all he did was kiss her lightly on the tip of her nose.
'Good morning, Blair,' he murmured. 'Isn't that' a better way to start the day?'
And it was. By the time they were ready to leave the farmhouse, the rain had abated. Her headache had vanished, as had her queasy stomach. She'd dressed in the same trousers and sweater she'd worn the day before it was too chilly to wear the cotton skirt and blouse she'd bought at the market in Fiorello. She'd tossed her jacket over her shoulders and fluffed her hair away from her face, peering at herself in the age-rimed mirror that hung in the bedroom.
'Stop fussing,' Hunter had said, giving her an unceremonious slap on the bottom as he went by. 'You look terrific.'
But she didn't, she thought now, stealing a glance at him as they wound down the narrow road that led to Florence. Her clothing was rumpled, the rain had spun her hair into a soft halo of curls, and the light had been so bad she hadn't risked any make-up but lipstick. Sh
e probably looked the way she'd looked when she and Aunt Annie got off the bus from Iowa four years ago, six months after Uncle Edgar had closed his eyes for ever.
Aunt Annie had sold the farm the week Blair had graduated from high school. 'I'm too old for another Iowa winter,' she'd said in answer to Blair's stunned questions. 'We're moving to San Diego, where the sunshines all the time. My cousin Helen lives in a retirement community, and she says it's wonderful there.'
A Flood of Sweet Fire Page 12
