“I can’t believe this. For one, he’s too good looking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Men who look that good think they’re God’s gift to females.”
“Ridiculous! You don’t even know him yet. What’s reason number two?”
“He’s a big city man. You should see the way he winces when he looks down and sees the desert dust on his fancy leather shoes.”
“So?”
Alice slapped her hands down on her thighs with exasperation. “What am I supposed to do? Go in for a quick fling? For a weekend, or a few days, or even one whole month of intimacy and trust? Then give the fling a peck on the cheek and a packed lunch when he goes back to the city and his other life? Say, well, that was a nice quickie, thanks and so long? I have my memories to keep me warm?”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Because a scenario like that is yours, not mine. I’m not like you. I’d end up caring. Falling in love. But you go ahead. Have a fling with Jace Constant.”
“Right.” Rose nodded. “Sounds good. When do I get to meet him?”
“Knowing you, Rose Badger, you’ll just drop in unexpectedly one evening.” Alice’s voice was unexpectedly dry. She knew she was being ridiculous. Yes, Rose would be most definitely Jace’s style. Rose was just about every man’s style.
“Sure. I’ll drop in all right — if you’re so certain you don’t want him.”
“We’re not running a cattle market here. If you’re attracted to each other, go for it. I don’t do quickie affairs. How about we change the subject now? Have you got anything new in?”
Her curiosity temporarily satisfied, Rose was fairly easy to divert. An almost-sure way of getting her off the subject of men was to direct her onto new clothes.
“Wait until I show you! A Mrs. Grady over in Whiteshaw had me take a look into some old trunks she had in her attic. Alice, you aren’t going to believe your eyes. Dresses! Pure 1940s, and top quality too. Silk, bias cutting, the works. There’s one in dusty burgundy that’ll just take your breath away! Come, take a look. I bet it’d even suit you.”
“Wouldn’t it just,” said Alice laughing. “I’ve always wanted to wear silk while I’m boiling up the dog chow.”
They had finally stopped talking about Jace — a man who spelled big trouble — and now Alice could forget about him. For a while. Or, at least she could try.
Chapter Four
“The sooner I get away from this desert, the better life will look,” Jace muttered sourly as he tramped over the broad stretch of brown nothingness, hating the dust that covered his elegant shoes, nudged its way into the seams of his clothing and ground between his teeth each time the chilly wind picked up. And he hated finding dog hair clinging tenaciously to his cashmere sweaters.
As far as night life went in Blake’s Folly … well, there didn’t seem to be any other than turning out the lights at nine and hoping tomorrow would bring a diversion. Now, if he were home in Chicago, in his ultra-modern, luxurious condominium at this moment, what would he be doing? Planning a night out with friends or with sexy, luxuriant Tanya — one of the women who were part of his life. You didn’t find someone like Tanya in Blake’s Folly.
You didn’t find a man like himself here either, and the inhabitants of the place were letting him know that, all right. Why, just yesterday evening, at least ten people had “accidentally” wandered up the track that led by Alice’s house and stared at him as he sat out on the veranda. Stared? God, the verb “to stare” had been invented in Blake’s Folly!
Suddenly, Jace’s eye caught movement at the ridge on his left. A wild animal? If he stood still, would it come closer? He’d wait and see.
He didn’t have to wait long; soon enough he saw the form was human — or, at least part of it. He even knew who it was. Only one person in the world would be caught in such a dreary landscape, striding forward as if she were in a lush, green valley. Alice Treemont. The shifting dark clumps around her were her many canine friends.
Well, well. All memory of Tanya’s expensive perfume skittered out of his mind taking with it every morose thought. His wave of satisfaction warmed him. Hadn’t he been hoping to find Alice out here? Of course he had. Why else would he go walking in the desert? For some reason he couldn’t yet fathom, Alice touched him. Not because of her looks, or not only because of them.
She was so different from the other women he’d known. Her thick, old-fashioned braids, her high cheekbones and golden eyes fascinated him, as did her thin, elegant mouth. And perhaps her long slender figure was as lovely as he imagined it might be. Only imagined. Because Alice Treemont seemed determined to hide every subtle curve under the most hideous and shapeless print dresses he’d ever seen — doing it in the same way she hid the real person she was behind a wall of silence.
Jace now watched as Alice came to a sudden stop on a dusty rise of desert. Obviously she’d just caught sight of him and wanted to avoid any encounter. He saw her dilemma. There was no other track, only this faint path in the scrub. A meeting was inevitable; and even over the distance separating them her reluctance was palpable. His pleasure at seeing her turned into annoyance. Why the hell did she resist all his attempts at friendliness, at simple conversation?
Alice consistently made a point of avoiding him — had done exactly that since he’d been a boarder in her house. When he returned from work, the warm aroma of dinner greeted him as soon as he opened the door. He’d never imagined vegetarian fare could smell — and taste — so good!
That was one bonus. If he felt he needed some meat between his teeth, there was always lunchtime at the diner near the Winterback Mine. But the problem of getting to know Alice better wasn’t so easily solved; until now, she’d consistently managed to thwart him. The long wooden table in the kitchen was always set for one person only. And the conversation — such as it was — had been the same every evening.
“Aren’t you going to join me, Alice?”
“I’ve already eaten.” Her voice had all the warmth of winter in the tundra.
“That’s no reason.”
Her eyes always avoided his. “I have things to do, Mr. Constant.”
“Jace.”
“Jace,” she’d repeat faintly before vanishing into another part of the house.
“Thrown to the dogs again,” Jace always muttered at the several warm, sleeping bodies stretched out in various corners.
So the meals, albeit delicious, were also lonely. Delicious? Extraordinary! Fresh, homemade bread, warming bean stews flavored with exotic spices. Where had she learned to cook like that? Surely not in the Nevada desert.
Jace had a million questions on the tip of his tongue. All he needed was the chance to ask them. Except, dawdle in the kitchen though he might, Alice never reappeared in the evenings. And even breakfasts were as solitary — and as delicious — as dinner.
“Wonderful coffee, Alice.”
“Freshly ground.” She wasn’t going to say more than she had to. He had forced her hand in renting the room, and she wouldn’t let him forget it. If only she’d been a run-of-the mill landlady. But she wasn’t. She was Alice: lanky, sometimes awkward, infinitely intriguing and downright — in her own original way — sexy.
Go slowly, Jace, my boy. Easier said than done. Patience had never been his strong point, especially when it came to getting to know women, and at the moment, his healthy male pride was taking a terrible blow.
Now, catching her out here in the desert would make her escape more difficult. She couldn’t avoid talking to him, or letting him accompany her back to the house. She was trapped: no way she could retreat. He felt his mouth stretching into a welcoming grin. Yes, this evening he’d get through to her. He’d even come back early so there was no way she could claim she’d already eaten. And that bottle of fine wine waiting on the Rover’s back seat was just begging to be shared.
Of course, seeing the almost hostile look on Alice’s face as she approached didn’t make h
im feel overly optimistic. She was about to give him the cold shoulder. As usual.
Fortunately, Killer’s enthusiasm set the tone of the encounter. When he realized it was Jace standing there, he began whining piteously and tugging at his leash with frenzy. Killer was certainly a skinny animal, but he was a strong one, and Jace could see Alice was having a tough time holding him.
“Let him go,” Jace called out to her.
In his enthusiasm, Killer was becoming hopelessly entangled in the overly long leash, and now it had wound itself around Alice’s legs. Any minute now she’d come crashing to the ground.
Jace to the rescue, he thought with glee, and jogged in her direction. It was only a very minor rescue, of course, but also a very pleasant one. He felt an almost irrepressible desire to nuzzle the little hollows on the inside of her knees as he untangled her. He felt considerably less content when Killer, in a tornado of dust, threw himself into his arms and covered him with excessively soggy dog kisses.
Alice couldn’t restrain her laughter at Jace’s attempt to dampen the dog’s ardor.
“It looks like I’ve been rolling in the dust,” said Jace ruefully when Killer finally lost some of his intense interest.
“You do,” Alice confirmed. Her eyes were sparkling and he could see that she was making an effort not to laugh out loud. “And you don’t like dust, do you?” The gleam in her eyes was a malicious one.
Jace realized she was poking fun at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He felt defensive.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you polish your shoes every ten minutes or so.”
“Old habits die hard,” he muttered sourly.
“Or don’t die at all,” she countered.
Things weren’t exactly going the way he’d planned. This conversation certainly wasn’t. It wasn’t seductive in the least. Foiled again.
“It could be worse, though,” Alice added. “Imagine what you’d look like if Killer had been swimming in the gully down there.” She indicated a wide, dry slash on the desert floor.
“Swimming?”
“It can be terribly dangerous when the flash floods come.”
“This countryside is hostile.”
“Hostile?” Alice looked up at him with surprise. “I can’t imagine anyone thinking that!”
“Can’t you?” He raised his eyebrows. “Flash floods, wind, bleakness, monotony. What would you call that?”
“Emptiness can be beautiful.” She stretched her arm out in a wide gesture. “Look at it, this glorious emptiness. Smell the air. There’s no place as fragrant as the desert.” Her eyes were shining with pleasure.
Incredible how her face changed when she let down her guard, Jace reflected. Enthusiasm made her cheeks glow, her eyes shine. Fine tendrils of hair had escaped from her thick braids, and were tickling her cheeks. She brushed them back with an impatient gesture and Jace wished he’d had the right to do that. And that beautiful mouth. What would it taste like when he finally got around to kissing it? Because he was certainly going to do that. Sooner or later.
“The pioneers who passed this way didn’t feel so warmly about the area,” he offered, preferring neutral territory to the tumultuous terrain of his thoughts.
“Probably not,” she shrugged.
“Definitely not,” he insisted. “You’ve seen the old wagon road, haven’t you?”
Alice looked at him curiously. “Wagon road?”
He liked being able to tell her something she didn’t know. “Follow me.”
She hesitated only briefly, then let him lead the way over the small rise. Straight ahead, was the faint, dusty trail she saw almost every day — a trail to nowhere, she’d always thought.
“Here you are,” Jace said with evident satisfaction. “A hundred and fifty years ago, this was one of the great roads to California. Just think about the wagonloads of people walking, riding, dragging their way through here with their animals. No trees anywhere, no grass. Only creosote bushes, cat’s claw and mesquite. When summer temperatures rose to a hundred and ten, pools of water turned into shimmering scum and rivers evaporated. You found the trail by following abandoned sacks of putrid bacon, skeletons of animals, and graves.”
Alice nodded. “I know that names on the map — names like Endurance, or Desolation, or Last Gap — were never more than a stick in the ground where someone was buried. And I also know some people went mad out here: one man killed his brother because he couldn’t stand the sound of his voice; another strangled his partner because he kept twirling his moustache.”
Jace quirked an eyebrow. “And you still call this desert beautiful?”
Alice waved a dismissing hand. “Not a pretty picture, not an easy history, I’ll concede that. But nowadays, I look at the area with different eyes. I’m not crossing it to get somewhere else. I’m here, living in peace, enjoying the calm you can only find in extreme places. Besides, there are sad stories in every part of the world, not just here.”
“So why not enjoy yourself wherever you are?”
“Exactly.”
Now she’s wedged herself into a corner, Jace thought with satisfaction.
Realizing the situation, Alice turned to the dogs. “Edda! Tilly, Betty. Let’s go.”
Jace matched his stride to hers. “I suppose I’ll have to spend more time out here in order to appreciate it better. It’s so different from Chicago.”
The soft earth silenced the sound of their footsteps. Somewhere in the air high above them, a bird trilled brightly. It was true what she said, Jace mused. The desert was calming and the air had a dusty intoxicating tang, an odor even he could appreciate. He also knew something else: Alice was softening — not that she had much choice. He was a naturally friendly person; she couldn’t remain defensive in the face of friendliness. Or deny the slow sizzle that seemed to vibrate between them.
“Don’t you mind living in a big city with traffic and noise all the time?” Alice asked.
“I love it. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“I see.”
They had reached the spot where the Land Rover was parked.
“Can I drive you back? There’ll be enough room in the back for all the dogs.” Jace tried not to think of the mountain of dog hair he’d be cleaning out. Going soft in the head, old boy.
“Absolutely not.” Already she was moving away. “There’s nothing I like more than walking.” She stopped, her eyes mischievous, yet defiant. “In the desert. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
• • •
Jace lounged in a chair while Alice shredded a zucchini. He was making her exceedingly nervous. It wasn’t only because he was sitting there. No, it was also the way he watched her. The way he lounged in the chair … as if he belonged there. Which he didn’t.
Just look at those clothes of his. City stuff, those expensive jeans, those gorgeous shoes, that sweater that was obviously cashmere. The trappings of a city man playing at country life. An actor, playing a part. Of course, she had to keep saying things like that to herself, to make an effort not to sneak little glances at him. He looked mighty good — city slicker playing a part or not. Keep your distance if you know what’s good for you, she ordered herself.
“Have you lived here all of your life, Alice?”
“No. My mother grew up here, but left when she was young. Sixteen.”
“So where else have you lived?”
“California.”
Jace was obviously waiting for more details, details she wasn’t about to give him. He whistled, waited a minute or two. Then he said, “Mighty big place, California.”
She looked up sharply. Was he making fun of her? Yes, he was. His mouth was twitching. He seemed to like riling her. It was a game to him, breaking down her barriers, softening her up. She’d keep on resisting too.
She concentrated on rubbing the zucchini, pushing it furiously through the grater. How long had he said he would be staying? A week? A month? She couldn’t reme
mber. Or had he even set a time limit at all?
“Where in California?”
She threw him a look guaranteed to turn the most stouthearted soul into salt. “Nosy, aren’t you.”
Before she knew what was happening, he had sprung out of his seat and was standing beside her. She looked down at the bowl of grated zucchini. What was he doing? Why was he standing so close! She tried to move away but he arrested her movement with strong hands.
“Alice? Look at me.”
His touch seared through the thin cotton of her dress. Fool. Letting him touch you when you know exactly where it will lead. Get your desire under control. She recoiled. And felt how reluctant he was to let her go. But her rejection had cooled him. He took a step backward before grabbing the shredder and what remained of the zucchini.
“Let me do it,” he said, his voice gentle.
“I’m perfectly capable … ”
“I’m not saying you aren’t. But you were getting so violent with this poor vegetable, you’d have scraped your knuckles raw. And this is supposed to be a vegetarian dinner.”
She fought to get her nerves under control. The shock of his touch had sent live current zipping through her body and logic spiraling out of the picture. Leaning back against the counter, she tried to steady her trembling hands. Well, it was pretty clear what he was after, wasn’t it? Yes, it was. Intimacy. And what if … what if she just let it happen? How would it feel to lie in his arms? As good as she thought it might?
Repressed desire propelled her into action. She had to do something … anything … move, busy herself with a plate, a glass, fork, knife, and spoon. She had to push all the hot, dark, sexy ideas out of her mind.
“What were you thinking of doing?”
Her throat was dry, her heart pounded. “What?” It came out as a croak.
He was watching her curiously. “I’m finished grating the zucchini. What will you do with it?”
Relief followed confusion, turned into embarrassment. Calm down, Alice, she told herself. Calm down. He can’t read your mind.
She took a deep, calming breath. “I mix the zucchini with a little flour, eggs, salt, cumin, coriander and black pepper. Make fritters and fry them. They taste wonderful with fresh yogurt and mint.”
All About Charming Alice Page 4
