Audrey lowered her gaze from the cliff's top to the ground in front of them. Gray wasn't looking at the recess. His attention was focused on a pool of water another thirty yards away. Beyond the pool, the water flowed into a narrow stream that wound its way across the shelf. On either side of the stream, the grass was lush and green, the first green she had seen since coming to New Mexico, she thought. Her gaze returned to the pool, and the steam rising from it.
Sliding his pack off his shoulders, Gray strode toward the pool, walked around it once, dipped his hand in a couple of different places, then looked back at her. "It's not a room at the Marriott," he said. "But I can offer you a hot bath."
That sounded heavenly, but what drew her toward him was the smile that lit his face.
* * *
Chapter 8
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Audrey had wondered if a smile would make him look boyish. It didn't. His eyes were too haunted, his features too ruggedly masculine for that. Even so, the smile encompassed his whole face, revealing laugh lines around his eyes. Her breath caught, and her throat clogged with longing. She had been right. Smiling, he was irresistible
She stretched her arms to him, and he took her hands. "You did it," he said. "Your hunch paid off. This place has everything we need. Shelter. Water." He cocked his head toward the pool. "Hot water. I wasn't kidding about the bath, if that's what you want."
"It sounds great," she said, "though not half as good as dinner."
That alluring smile changed into a crooked grin, exposing a dimple in one cheek. "Hungry again?" He shook his head in mock concern. "The way to a woman's affection is through—"
"Her heart, you oaf." She slapped at his arm, loving his teasing. "But I've gotta tell you. Feeding her is a real good start. Besides, as you may recall I wasn't on the receiving end of good old-fashioned Western hospitality last night."
"I remember." His smile faded, and Audrey could have kicked herself for saying anything that made his smile fade.
"I take that back," she said. When he cocked an eyebrow in question, she added, "Except for the dinner that you brought to my room, which was very nice."
He shook his head and started to turn away, looking embarrassed. She caught him by the arm, touching his cheek to bring his gaze back to her.
"Being a nice guy is an okay thing, you know."
He opened his mouth to speak, and she had a hunch it was to deny her assertion, so she pressed her fingers against his mouth.
"Don't you be saying anything negative about my friend Gray Murdoch. You hear me? I won't stand for it."
That surprising smile reached his eyes again. "Yes, ma'am."
"Now," she said, rubbing her hands together, "can we have a fire? Or will that give Howard a way of finding us?"
Gray glanced back toward the trail that had led them steadily up from the canyon floor.
"Nothin's a hundred percent," he finally said. "But we're high enough above the canyon bottom that we should be okay."
"Good." She took off toward the towering ponderosa, sure the second she stopped moving, she would be too tired to be of any help at all. If Gray said it was safe to have a fire, she believed him.
She began picking up the first branches she came to, which seemed surprisingly dry in spite of all the rain that had fallen. Gray pulled evergreen boughs off a fallen tree, which he dragged back to the camp. Watching him, Audrey again uttered thanks he was with her. His self-assurance conveyed that he knew what he was doing, which was more than she could say for herself. In Denver, she could have navigated her way out of the worst traffic jam, taken him to any one of a half-dozen good restaurants and dialed 911 with the assurance that help would be on the way. Here, though, she was completely out of her element.
She didn't know why he had come looking for her after she left the ranch, but she was grateful he had. She kept thinking that if she just snapped her fingers, somehow her life would return to normal and the terror of having someone—Howard—shoot at her would fade away. And Gray had been there for her. Thank God. Why would he have willingly given up his safety to stay with her?
In the time she gathered one small armload of kindling, be had dragged a couple of good-size branches back to the camp, where he snapped them into shorter lengths, reinforcing how strong he was. He took off his jacket and tossed it onto the floor of the shallow cave that was to be their shelter. The green plaid shirt beneath the jacket followed, leaving him in a navy T-shirt that revealed to her for the first time the heavy rope of muscle in his arms and across his back.
She shivered, remembering the first instant after she climbed onto his back. He had lifted her as though she weighed nothing. Despite the danger, or maybe because of it, she had felt oddly vulnerable, her legs on either side of his waist. Now, as then, she wondered what it would be like to be in the same position—only face-to-face with him. Heat bloomed, and she studied him frankly, from the impressive proportions of his chest to the more subtle, equally fascinating curves and bulges behind his button-down fly.
"You doin' okay?"
Her glance flew to his face. If he had been aware of her staring, there was no clue of it in his expression.
"Yeah," she replied, her voice not sounding like her own. The man hadn't even made a pass at her, and she was hot and bothered. She glanced down at herself, noting the splotches of dried mud on the jacket and her jeans. Of course he hadn't made a pass. She looked about as appealing as the armload of kindling she dropped in a pile at the edge of the overhang.
He strode away from the camp toward another large branch lying under the copse of ponderosas. She followed him, noticing the twilight had deepened. Above them, the sky was still light, a narrow band of pale sky. A quarter mile away, the opposite wall of the gorge rose looking oddly like a fortress wall in the fading light. Fleetingly, she wondered which side of the wall they were on. The safe side, she hoped.
Her own mood more pensive, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, glancing around the shelf. She had the feeling unseen threats lurked within the shadows.
"Howard won't find us here?" Realization that a man she considered a friend had tried to harm her rushed through her, making her feel exposed and anything but safe.
"He could," Gray answered, "but I doubt it. If he was watching us, he knows we came into the foothills from the valley. The first mesa is big, and I believe we hid our tracks well enough that he won't be able to pick up our trail. Not in the dark, anyway."
"What about tomorrow?" she asked, her throat still tight.
"We'll figure it out."
"And if he didn't see us come up to the mesa?"
"I'm hoping he'll think we're headed for either the ranch or the pueblo." Gray paused, his hazel eyes shadowed in the twilight. "And sooner or later, that's what we've got to do. We're okay, tonight, Audrey, but we don't have food or supplies to hide out indefinitely."
She dropped her head a moment, appreciating Gray's honesty. Another rush of emotion, this time gratitude, not fear, made tears burn at the backs of her eyes. The man had been a rock, and somehow he had been sucked into a problem that wasn't his. And he had done nothing but treat her with consideration and honesty. Not to mention saving her life.
Swallowing, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze. "A disclaimer, huh? I thought that was a magic pack you had. Candy bars, socks." She poked his stomach, hoping she would coax another smile out of him. "And you promised me dinner."
"So I did." He pulled her into his arms.
She sank against him, savoring the strength of his body and the ever present heat emanating from him. Silently, he held her a long moment before releasing her. She headed back to the tall pines for another armload of firewood, determined to keep her anxiety at bay by staying busy.
At the hollowed recess at the base of the cliff, Gray glanced at the ancient soot marks overhead, then he arranged a few loose stones into a ring. Within scant minutes, he had a small fire going. The ruddy glow provided a beacon of cheerfulness that lured Audrey closer. She hadn
't been camping in years, and she had forgotten how absolutely dark night could be.
Forcing her attention away from the darkness settling into the canyon and creeping across the ledge, Audrey turned around and surveyed the hollow that was to be their haven. Aeons of wind had worn away the stone, leaving behind a smooth, rounded surface. Here and there, the sandstone slabs showed a darker stream of color where water had seeped into the surface, both from the recent storms and the hundreds before. She blinked and looked again. The random marks suggested the outline of a bird, a man, a deer. They weren't random at all, she realized. The patterns were definite … and man-made.
The back of her scalp prickled in response, and she stepped closer. The abstract symbols and figures were faded by time, barely more noticeable than a shadow.
"Gray, look at this," Audrey said.
He looked up from the fire, then came to examine me wall she was pointing to.
"I'll be damned," he said. "Petroglyphs." He traced one of the designs with a finger.
"Ancient graffiti?"
He almost smiled. "Maybe. At least a reminder that we're not the first to find refuge here."
"It's sort of spooky, isn't it?"
"Just think of it as a motel room where other guests have stayed." Gray let go of her hand and returned to the campfire, where he bent over his backpack. Opening the pack, he pulled out a battered aluminum pot and extended it to Audrey. "Would you like to get some water?"
"Sure," she said, taking the pot from him. At the lip of the shallow cave, she came to a stop. The water of the pool gleamed faintly, but what captured her attention was the absolute black nothingness at the edge of the shelf. Even the tall ponderosas were nearly invisible.
"Audrey?"
"Yeah."
"Everything okay?"
"Fine," she replied, tearing her attention from what she had feared most since childhood. The dark. Resolutely, she stepped off the sandstone and headed toward the water.
The steam above the pool shifted, undulating as though it had a life of its own. As she approached, she felt the air warm. A huge slab of sandstone bordered the pool on one side, almost looking man-made. She knelt at the edge, and dipped the pot in. It was surprisingly warm. Gray was right. Hot enough for a bath.
"Is this safe to drink?" she called to Gray.
"It won't be the best-tasting water you ever had, but it's safe."
She set the pot on the stone next to her and pushed up the sleeves of the jacket. Bending over, she washed her hands, then her face. The warm water felt good, and she dipped her hands again. One of the bracelets suddenly loosened, and before she could grab it, fell to the bottom.
She peered into the black depths, unable to see the bottom, much less her bracelet. "Damn."
"What's wrong?" Gray asked from next to her.
She started. Once again, she hadn't heard his approach. "You've got to stop doing that."
"What?"
"Sneaking up on a person." She looked at his feet. "How in the heck do you walk so silently?"
"Habit," he said. Then he repeated, "So, what's wrong?"
"I dropped my bracelet into the pool," she said, noticing she hadn't asked him to promise he would stop sneaking up on her. As if he was doing so intentionally, she reminded herself.
Gray leaned over. "It probably sank to the bottom. We'll get it in the morning." He picked up the pot of water and offered Audrey his other hand.
"What if it floats away?"
"The current isn't that strong. I got a pretty good look at the pool before it got dark, and I could see the bottom. There's a little sediment down there, but not much. We'll find it."
She gave the water a last dubious glance, feeling oddly bereft. She had started wearing the bracelets all the time a few days after her mother died—a reminder of happier times they had shared.
Gray took her hand, and she let him pull her to her feet. She followed him back to their shelter. A few red-hot coals had begun to form at the bottom of the small fire. Gray set the pot in the middle of the flames.
"I hope you like beef stew," he said, holding up a pouch. "Hermetically sealed and guaranteed. Beats the old freeze-dried stuff I used to bring camping."
"Gray, I'd eat broiled grasshoppers at this point," she said. She sank down cross-legged next to the fire.
The corner of his mouth lifted. "It's a little early in the season for grasshoppers."
"Lucky me."
"But if you're determined to eat off the land, I could try to find us a lizard or rattlesnake or—"
"Beef stew, freeze-dried, reconstituted or reconditioned, is just fine."
He opened the package and dumped the contents into the hot water. Almost immediately, a mouthwatering aroma filled the air, and Audrey's stomach grumbled in response.
Again, Gray smiled. "You weren't kidding, were you?" he asked, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. "It won't be long now."
Audrey felt like a little kid waiting for dinner. Gray left the stew to cook and went to the pile of boughs he had dragged beneath the overhang. With the same familiarity and efficiency that he did everything, he arranged the boughs into a pile, stripping away the larger branches. Gradually the pile came to resemble a mattress, and Audrey realized this was a bed. One bed.
She turned her attention back to the fire. She hadn't gotten as far as thinking about how they would sleep. Or where. Lifting her gaze beyond the fire, she admitted she was glad she was with him. Even so, this wasn't the way she had imagined spending the night with a man for the first time.
This afternoon—which felt like a lifetime ago, she thought—she had kissed him and felt as though she had found a missing part of herself. Once again, the memory of having her legs wrapped around him washed over her. Longing curled through her belly, and her awareness of him heightened another notch.
Whistling under his breath, he again checked on their dinner. Using the sleeve of his jacket as a pot holder, he took the pan off the fire and came to sit next to her.
"This is a little informal for a first date," he said. "Community pot, and all."
She glanced at him. "Is that what this is, a date?"
"Sure." He pulled the pack toward him. "It's a pretty night, we've got a nice fire and—" he pulled his hand out of the pack as though brandishing a treasure "—a single spoon."
"Like sharing straws," she murmured, bemused at the thought.
"Something like that," he said, handing her the spoon and pushing the stew toward her. "Ladies first." He reached for his flannel shirt and put it back on.
The stew tasted almost as good as it smelled. She sighed and handed Gray the spoon. He took a couple of bites, then returned the spoon.
It was the most intimate meal she had ever shared, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, eating from the same pot with the same spoon. Contentment, warmth and drowsiness stole ever her.
Sometime later, she realized they were no longer sitting shoulder to shoulder. Instead, she was within the circle of his arms, and his body was supporting her. Though she was in his embrace again, she felt none of the sexually charged energy she had felt earlier in the day. With a yawn, she decided he was probably as tired as she was.
"The moon will be up soon," he said.
"How do you know?" she asked, resting her head against his shoulder and looking at the sky. With a faint sense of surprise, she noted a canopy of stars had replaced the gloom. More stars than she ever remembered seeing in her life.
"The sky is lighter to the east," he said, pointing. "See how the stars aren't as bright and the sky is more blue?"
"Yeah."
"Moonrise."
Gradually the midnight color of the sky faded to a lighter shade, then the moon peeked over the edge of the horizon. Its silver glow seemed bright as a headlight, casting the shelf of their camp in frosted light and shadows. It was beautiful.
"This is going to be okay," Audrey said.
She felt Gray glance down at her.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm afraid of the dark," she said simply. "I don't have a personal memory of it, but my mother always said it was because I was trapped in a burning house when I was four or five." She held out her arm, revealing the mark the bracelet normally covered. Gray gently traced a finger over the scar.
"You were burned in the fire?" His voice was very deep.
She nodded. "Silly, huh," she said. "When we first got here it was so gloomy, and the canyon looked so black."
"Not silly at all," he returned. "Old events, whether remembered or not, can be the worst."
She twisted slightly so she could look up at him. "What about you, Gray? Are you afraid of anything?"
He met her gaze, all expression gone from his face. Tracing the side of her face with a finger, he finally said, "Myself."
"I don't understand," she whispered.
This time, he didn't answer, but instead kissed the tips of her fingers before returning his attention to the moonrise. The memory of Richard saying Gray had killed a man washed over Audrey. She closed her eyes, comparing Richard's statement with what she knew, with what she sensed about Gray. He hadn't pulled his gun when they were hiding from Howard. And he might have been able to shoot Howard as he was driving off. Everything she had seen about him today was inconsistent with Richard's statement. If Gray had killed a man, and she couldn't imagine it, she was positive it was in the line of duty. He had been a cop, after all.
Relaxing more fully against him, she opened her eyes and stared into the flames. Safe, cherished, and… She yawned. Don't trust anybody, he had told her. Especially him. Nonsense. She had never met anyone more deserving of her trust.
"Gray?"
"Hmm?"
She peered up at him, yawning once again. "I think I've reached the end of my rope. If I don't go to bed soon, I'm going to fall asleep right here."
In answer, he pulled her across his lap, then stood up with her still in his arms. Being lifted was dizzying. Being carried so easily was wonderful, exciting. Another yawn caught her, and she snuggled closer to him.
A few short strides carried him to the bed of boughs that he had covered with a tarp. Kneeling, he set her in the middle of the bed, put his hands on either side of her head and brushed a brotherly kiss across her cheek.
HIS TENDER TOUCH Page 11
