by Sylvia Nobel
“That’s impossible. I remember very clearly locking it before I left this morning.”
Bradley sighed. “Are you the only one with a key?”
“Well, no. I’m sure Mary Tuggs has one. But she’s an unlikely candidate.” Who, I wondered, was a good candidate for this prank?
“Then you must have left it unlocked,” he concluded with manly logic.
“I didn’t.” My annoyance increased when I noticed he wasn’t really paying attention to what I said but was instead studying my bare thighs. “Could you…could you just get rid of them for me? Please?”
He nodded slowly. “I’ll do it, but it’s going to cost you,” he said with mock seriousness.
God, the man was exasperating. I gave him the evil eye and said, “Taking advantage of a woman in distress certainly would never occur to you. Right?”
“Never.”
“So what do you want?”
“Dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“That’s it.”
“Okay. You’ve got a deal.” I gestured toward the house. “Now would you please…”
Smug-faced, he left and I wondered if there was some kind of therapy that would address my phobia? One thing did please me, however. Two months earlier, this much stress would have caused a major asthma attack. This time I’d handled one without the inhaler.
He came out carrying one of my new pink pillowcases. There was a wriggling lump at the bottom. I shivered again and said ungraciously, “Why did you use my new pillowcase?”
“Oh, excuse me. I didn’t think you’d care that much about how I disposed of them.” Impishly, he shoved the bag toward me. “Do you want to transfer them to a color you do like?”
I jumped back. “Get them away from me! You might as well burn that with them in it, cause I’ll never use it again!”
He shook his head at me sadly as if I were mentally deficient. “Calm down. I’m not going to kill them,” he said quietly. “Tarantulas are perfectly harmless and they’re an important part of the environment.”
“Please. I don’t need a biology lesson. Just do something with them.”
I watched him walk across Lost Canyon and when he returned the pillowcase was neatly folded in his hand.
“Mission accomplished,” he said with a grin. It took every bit of will power I possessed to walk back into that house. I made him walk ahead of me into each room as my gaze darted back and forth from every corner and into every nook and cranny. Sunday or not, Mr. Jenkins, the exterminator, would be hearing from me first thing in the morning.
Bradley gallantly offered to clean the tub which I accepted. In a nonchalant manner he handed me the two pairs of panty hose that were hanging over the shower curtain. “Nice texture,” he said fanning one eyebrow at me.
When he finished, he folded his arms, leaned against the doorframe. “If you like I’ll stay in here with you while you shower. Just to keep a lookout, of course.”
He looked wicked and devilishly attractive. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d end up sharing such an intimate situation with him.
“You’re too kind,” I said pushing him out the door. By the time I’d showered and dressed, I was angry.
What kind of a sick mind was at work here? And to what purpose?
There was no time to style my hair as I’d planned, so I brushed it until it lay in soft curls around my bare shoulders.
Satisfied with my appearance, I grabbed my shawl and camera bag. I checked to make sure the arcadia door was secured and then swept into the living room.
“I’m ready,” I announced in a breezy voice. “Let’s go.” Bradley eyed me appreciatively and gave a low whistle. “Wow! Pretty snazzy.”
“Thank you,” I said with an exaggerated curtsy.
“I must say I liked your other outfit too.”
My cheeks flamed. “Because you’re a gentleman, I know that particular fact won’t go beyond this room.”
A fiendish twinkle danced in his eyes. “Who told you I was a gentleman?”
He looked so full of orneriness, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a hard man to deal with, Bradley Talverson,” I remarked as he seated me in his truck after we’d left the house.
“And a hard man is good to find,” he quipped.
The mood lightened, I settled back in the seat and watched the remains of the sunset glow on the horizon like the scarlet embers of a dying fire. Lost in thought, I said little during the trip to Whispering Winds.
The memory of the tarantulas in my bathtub would probably haunt me for years to come. Someone in Castle Valley knew it would. And that someone was going to extraordinary lengths to frighten me away from the Delgado ranch.
9
It hadn’t occurred to me to suspect Lucinda Johns until I entered the main room at the tennis ranch with Bradley. As I admired the lavish surroundings with pleasure, she suddenly separated herself from a group of other women and made a beeline for him. Dressed in a red gown cut so low it gave new meaning to the word cleavage, her eyes burned with naked lust. When she spotted me standing near him, her steps faltered, her expression altered dramatically. For a second she looked so distressed I thought she might burst into tears. Instead, she threw me an indignant glare and flounced from the room.
Bradley, having been cornered by noisy, back-slapping friends, had apparently not noticed. Ginger had told me that she was wildly jealous of Bradley. Was she my tormentor? But how could she know of my phobia? Unless…? It was time to find Ginger.
Thena Rodenborn had said this was the social event of the season and I believed it. The men looked striking in dark suits and tuxedos, while the women glided about in colorful designer gowns. I felt very much at home in the casual elegance of the place. It was every bit as nice as any of the finest hotels I’d visited in New York, Pittsburgh or Philadelphia.
There was to be a silent auction later, so I made note of some of the items laid out on the long tables.
Across the room, working behind the bar, I spied Ginger. It took me a few minutes to weave my way through the noisy throng.
Ginger’s voice pealed like a bell. “Hey, girlfriend! Where y’all been?”
“I was detained by a slight problem.”
“I’m Doug Sauers,” said the smiling, cherub-faced man behind the polished counter. “I’ve heard all about you.”
“And I you.” He squeezed my hand in a friendly shake and we chatted for a few minutes. He filled a tray with mixed drinks, handed it to Ginger and before she could get away I said, “I need to talk to you when you have a second.”
“I’m kinda tied up for a spell, but I’ll hunt you up after dinner’s served, okey dokey?”
“Fine. Right now, I guess I’d better earn my keep.” With Doug’s permission, I stashed my shawl and bulky camera case behind the bar, then set off, camera in hand, to gather information and snap photos of Castle Valley’s uppercrust and out-of-town VIPs.
Thena Rodenborn, all aglitter in a blue sequined dress, introduced me to some of the major contributors from the Phoenix and Prescott areas respectively. Most people, when hearing I was a reporter, posed willingly.
I’d gathered quite a bit of material as the dinner hour neared, so I retreated to a quiet spot near an enormous stone fireplace to condense my notes. A large picture window to my left overlooked lighted tennis courts.
A sudden indrawn breath made me whirl to face a set of startled, cobalt-blue eyes. Some emotion I couldn’t read flickered across the man’s stunningly handsome face and then vanished.
I opened my mouth to say something and then shut it again as he stepped forward. Before I could object, he caught my free hand and pressed his lips to it. His slightly graying blonde hair caught the rainbow reflections from the crystal chandeliers overhead.
Then, in a deep, masculine voice, guaranteed to raise goose bumps on the most frigid of women, he said, “Wait. Don’t speak. For one so endowed with such a rare and radiant beauty, I suspect you must be a princ
ess.” He tightened his grip on my hand. “Come. We must be away, you and I. My castle awaits.”
What was this? A knight in a shining black tuxedo? I couldn’t help but smile. Without a doubt, this had to be the most superb hunk of maleness I’d ever laid eyes on in my life. The air between us crackled with sexual electricity.
“Well,” I said, keeping my voice light, and gently disengaging my hand, “that’s definitely one of the more original opening lines I’ve ever heard.”
He looked stricken. “Dear lady, do you doubt my sincerity? How deeply you wound my vanity.”
I laughed aloud. The man was an absolute poet. A real charmer. I decided he must be a television personality from Phoenix.
“Do I get to know your name?”
“Kendall O’Dell. What’s yours?”
“Eric Heisler.”
I widened my eyes. Ginger and Bonnie had referred to him as a god. That he was.
“Eric! Darling!” Thena Rodenborn bore down on us and grasped his arm. “Naughty boy. Gone for two weeks and you can’t take even one little minute to let me know you’re back?”
“I’m sorry, mother,” he said kissing her lightly on one cheek, “my flight was delayed. I arrived here not fifteen minutes ago.”
She beamed up at him, “My dear boy, you work too hard.”
Eric flashed her a tender smile before returning his attention to me. “So, mother, have you met Miss O’Dell?”
“Oh, yes indeed. She’s here to write a story for the newspaper.”
Another one of those inscrutable looks passed swiftly over his face. Had he assumed I was one of the moneyed citizens of Castle Valley? An heiress? Would his interest evaporate now?
Thena responded to someone calling her name and excused herself, saying she’d see us later.
Eric watched her leave and then turned back to me. “So, you’re a reporter?”
“I hope you’re not disappointed.”
“Should I be?”
“Only if you were expecting a sizable donation.Alas, I’m afraid I’m not a princess, just a poor working girl here to cover this event, which I must say is most impressive.” I flipped my notepad to a new page. “Coincidentally, you’re at the top of my list of people I wanted to meet.”
“If that is the case, then my evening is a great success already.” He had a radiant smile. “If you don’t have a dinner companion, I’d be honored to have you sit at my table.”
Flattered, I started to accept when Bradley’s voice cut in sharply, “Kendall, my little desert flower, there you are.” I flinched with surprise as he hooked his hand possessively through my elbow and pulled me next to him. I flashed him a sizzling look which he ignored. Even though he wore a tight smile, cold dislike was mirrored in his eyes as he stared at Eric Heisler.
“Bradley.” Eric acknowledged quietly. And then with just a touch of coolness he said to me, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here with someone.”
“I’m not.” I tried to pry my arm from Bradley’s iron grasp.
“Now don’t cause a scene, darlin’,” Bradley said in a soothing voice. “I have to feed her on time or she gets real cranky,” he added, patting my arm.
Eric and Bradley, visually dueling, faced each other like two pawing bucks about to lock antlers. Then Eric, in courteous retreat, smiled graciously at me and excused himself, murmuring perhaps we could talk another time.
Wistfully, I watched the ‘god’ walk across the room out of sight, and probably out of my life. I turned to Bradley and freed my arm from his grip, then stuck out my chin and repeated through clenched teeth, “My little desert flower? I have to feed her on time?” My voice rose shrilly. “I could strangle you!”
“Calm down,” he said under his breath. “I knew you’d want me to intercede.”
“Now, why would I want that?”
“Because, you were drooling all over yourself. It isn’t ladylike.”
“I wasn’t drooling. And even if I was, it’s none of your business. I’ll thank you to butt out of my affairs.”
He looked amused. “Did you know your eyes are the same gray color as thunderheads during a summer storm?” He leaned closer. “I can actually see sparks of blue lightning.”
I was so angry with him I wanted to cry. Aware, however, that people were now watching us, I said coolly, “Tell me, Bradley, were you born aggravating or do you have to really work at it?”
“With you, it isn’t work and please call me Tally.” Bastard was what I’d have liked to call him, but I refrained. Why had he acted so hateful toward Eric? I took a couple of calming breaths. “I really am quite hungry now. And I’m also very cranky. If you pull any more stunts like that on me, I can’t be responsible for my actions. Got it?”
Without waiting for a reply, I stalked into the dining room. Rather than sit with Bradley, I chose another table nearby. She must have been watching for him because Lucinda pounced on the seat he’d saved for me. She was so close to him, her breasts were practically in his chicken Kiev. He didn’t look like he minded and that annoyed me even further.
Why should I let the incident ruin my evening? I turned my attention to the beautifully prepared meal and ate with gusto. I chatted with and enjoyed the company of all my table companions except for the gray-haired, bearded man beside the woman to my left.
He said nothing, just ate and drank. In fact, he mostly drank. Every time a waitress whisked by, he loudly ordered another Scotch.
I almost dropped my fork when one lady addressed him as Dr. Price. Dr. Price? This must be my neighbor from the mental hospital. I watched as he downed a drink in three swallows. He acted like a man under great stress. But then, it had to be a strain working with mentally and emotionally disturbed people every day.
“You know,” I began with a friendly smile, “that you and I are neighbors.”
He widened bloodshot eyes, hiccuped, and said in a slurred voice, “Neighbors?”
“I rent the house down the road from you and I’ve been curious about your place.” He said nothing, so I continued. “I did a story once concerning some of the new drugs being used to treat the chronically mentally ill. Perhaps we could talk sometime.”
I drew back at the expression on his face. He looked like a rabbit caught in the glare of headlights.
“’Scuse me…” he mumbled and rose so quickly his chair fell over. Stunned, I watched him weave from the room. Well! Mary Tuggs had said he was an odd old bird and he certainly was.
Speaking of odd birds, I watched Claudia Phillips slink across the room in a black satin gown so tight it hugged every contour of her lean body. Unkindly, I thought, she looks like a hotdog encased in black satin. How did she do it? The dress looked outrageously expensive.
At that moment Eric Heisler demanded everyone’s attention to announce the winners of the silent auction. There was enthusiastic applause when he mentioned the amount of money that had been raised thus far. A quick survey of the room revealed the eyes of every female riveted on him. I smiled ruefully. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who found him attractive.
As several other of the town’s top dogs droned on about the various charity organizations, Eric stood off to the side of the podium. Was it my imagination or was he deliberately making eye contact with me? He held my gaze for so long, I felt myself flushing. Self-consciously, I looked away. There was no mistaking the bold message that smoldered in his eyes.
Warning bells clanged in my ears. Was I to have two men, who appeared to dislike each other intensely, in hot pursuit? Did I want to open this Pandora’s box?
While it was immensely flattering, for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why a man of such obvious class and high social standing would be interested in me.
When the dancing started, woman after woman pressed herself eagerly against him. Filled with admiration, I watched him execute a flawless rhumba and then swing the next woman into a graceful waltz. It was probably a good thing I had work to do, or I would have been in line
too.
I looked around and noticed Bradley had the tennis pro, Ron Holiday, buttonholed for an interview. Still clinging to his side like Velcro, Lucinda gazed up at him rapaciously. Subtle she was not.
I shook off my irritation and headed toward the bar to get another roll of film. Ginger and I almost collided in the hallway.
“Hey, girl. What did y’all need?”
“You know that story I told you at your house last week? The one about the spider?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, did you repeat it to anyone?”
“Why?”
“Just tell me.”
“Well, I did mention it to Colleen down at the beauty parlor while she was fixing my hair.” Ginger giggled. “Poor old gal, she laughed so hard, she liked to peed her pants.”
“I’m so glad I was able to be the source of everyone’s entertainment,” I said, slightly annoyed with her. But then, why should I be? I knew Ginger couldn’t come anywhere close to keeping a secret. Best learn from this and be wary about what I said to her from now on.
Ginger looked wounded and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, fiddlefaddle. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, was I? Sorry. Sometimes I’m dumber than a box of rocks.”
“It’s okay,” I soothed her. “Just tell me who else was at the salon when you told the story.”
She looked toward the ceiling for a moment. “Well…let me see now. There was Coleen of course, Mabel Pritchard, Fran, from down at the bakery, Rita Torres…”
“Is that all?”
“Now don’t get your pantyhose in a knot, I’m trying to remember. Saturday’s are real busy.” She paused again. “I can’t remember every single soul…”
“Was Lucinda there?”
Her golden eyes glowed with surprise. “Well, I’ll be switched. How’d you know?”
10
So my hunch had been correct. Right now, it appeared that Lucinda was the most likely culprit. Grudgingly, I had to admit that she’d done a pretty good job to date, but she was dead wrong if she thought her little pranks were going to send me scurrying out of town with my tail between my legs.
Back in the ballroom the music from the band blared and I couldn’t help but notice Lucinda and Bradley on the dance floor. Why did it distress me to see her pressed so closely against him?
