She stood glaring at the note, her mind in turmoil. She didn't want to acknowledge the hurt that that terse note had inflicted, so she let her anger build up enough to block the injured pride and the sinking feeling of disappointment. She set her chin with determination. If that's how he wanted the game played, that's exactly how she would play it.
She snatched the parcel, which was addressed to her, off the table. It probably contained a nest of vipers. She lifted the lid and unfolded the piece of paper that was lying on top of the tissue-paper-wrapped contents. She sat down abruptly, her knees suddenly weak, as she blinked rapidly against the burning sensation in her eyes.
To: Leslie, Dwarf
I wanted to get you something special to say thank you for sharing your day with me. Somehow this seemed especially appropriate.
Steve
Leslie folded back the tissue paper and laughed with genuine delight. Inside was a pair of jogging shoes, identical to the ones he had been wearing. She kicked off her high heels impatiently, then slipped her feet into them. They fit perfectly. Lacing them up, she did a little dance around the room to test the fit, her face beaming with pleasure.
It wasn't until she picked up the box to throw it in the garbage that she realized there was another note inside.
Miss Kairns, do you realize how difficult it is to find shoes that are dwarf sized in this city? The salesclerk in the sports store informed me (with a peculiar smile on his face) that they didn't have much demand for dwarf shoes, but perhaps a child's size might do.
Oh, yes—may I recommend that you keep the box. It's just about the right height and it may come in handy for...things.
S
Leslie was overcome with a muddle of emotions—delight, loneliness, relief and a haunting ache. Steve McRory had exploded her world with a force that left her bewildered and breathless. She felt as though she was riding on a roller coaster in total blackness, unable to determine what lay before her, unable to prepare herself for the sharp curves, the paralyzing drops, the steep climbs.
She read the three notes again, then looked down at the bright blue-and-white joggers on her feet. Her eyes filled with tears as she finally faced a truth that was both frightening and beautiful: she was in love with Steve McRory. She had been from the first time she'd lost herself in the spellbinding blue of his eyes. He had annihilated her barriers, leaving her defenseless against his heart-stopping charisma.
Leslie was still sitting transfixed at the table, as motionless as a fragile statuette, when Ted walked into the room. "Something wrong, Les?"
She gave a start and fumbled with the box in her hand. "Yes— No— No, I was just off in another world for a minute." She carefully tucked the notes inside the box, then turned and looked up at Ted, a disconcerted expression on her face. "You just caught me daydreaming, that's all." She stood up, walked over to the chair where she had laid her coat and set the box down beside it.
"It must have been one hell of a daydream. You were as white as a ghost."
Leslie felt at a loss for words. But before she could answer, Ted went on, "Where did you get those running shoes, girl? They don't do a whole lot for the outfit you're wearing!"
Leslie laughed, her eyes sparkling. "That's one way of looking at it, I suppose. Maybe the truth of the matter is that the outfit doesn't do a whole lot for these joggers!" She laughed again at the puzzled look on Ted's face as she picked up the shoes she had been wearing and tossed them on top of her coat. "Come on, Ted McAllister, we have a stack of work to wade through before the boss gets back."
He shrugged and shook his head as he settled his massive frame behind the desk. "Okay, slave driver, let's finish these lease possibilities."
It was midafternoon when Ted tossed his pen on the desk, leaned back in his chair and flexed his arms to ease the tense muscles across his shoulders. "I don't know about you, girl, but if I don't get out of here for a while, I think I'll lose my mind."
Leslie stood up and stretched. "I need some fresh air myself. Want to walk over to the coffee shop for some lunch?"
"No, I have to go downtown to the bank, and I promised Maggie I would pick up the cleaning today."
"What time will you be back?"
"Oh, an hour, an hour and a half."
"Would you mind dropping me off downtown? I'd like to pick up a few things.''
"Sure. No problem. Do you want to arrange a time to meet so I can give you a lift back?"
"No, I don't know how long I'll be. I'll just grab a cab when I'm finished."
"Better change your shoes, girl. I still think running shoes look peculiar with a dress."
Leslie pulled a face and laughed.
Half an hour later she had completed her shopping and was contemplating what to do next. The sky was dismal and overcast, and there was an unpleasant bite in the wind. She shivered and changed her mind about going for a walk. It was too cold and miserable to really enjoy being outside. She started strolling idly down the street. There was one very exclusive shop that she wouldn't mind spending an hour in, but it was one of Vivian's haunts. Leslie didn't want to risk a chance meeting.
She sighed heavily and wondered how long it would take before the hurt faded. Had Vivian been concerned about the welfare of her daughter, she would have contacted Ted, Leslie knew. She hadn't, nor had Leslie really expected her to, but the child in her had hoped that perhaps Vivian cared enough to make sure she was all right. A familiar wave of loneliness swept over Leslie; she knew she didn't dare dwell on what had happened, however. It was in the past, and she had to keep it there.
Leslie resolutely squared her shoulders and quickened her step. Down the street was a small shopping plaza that had always been a favorite of hers. She would spend some time wandering through the shops there.
Her hair blew across her face and tangled in her earrings as she walked into the wind eddy in front of the revolving door. When she'd entered the building, she glanced at her watch. If she could get an appointment immediately, she'd have time to get her hair cut and styled. She really was tired of wearing it long.
Leslie made a halfhearted effort to convince herself her decision had nothing to do with Steve McRory or his teasing comments about her hiding behind her long locks. But she knew she was lying through her teeth.
Ted had already returned to the office and was absorbed in sorting through a stack of files when Leslie blew in, her cheeks pink with cold, the clean smell of fresh air clinging to her.
He looked up and whistled. "Well, well, don't you look spiffy!"
"Do you like it, Mr. McAllister?"
Ted nodded in approval. She'd had her hair styled very short and swept back off her face, the natural curl giving it body and bounce. She looked very much like an attractive, saucy Peter Pan.
Ted squinted through the blue haze of smoke as he lit a cigarette, then leaned back in his chair. "Well, I'm not a fashion editor by a long shot, but yes, I like it very much. It's not so severe."
Leslie curtsied prettily. "Thank you, kind sir!" She combed her fingers through it as she grinned at Ted. "Now I can do what you do when you get frustrated, right?"
"Right!" Ted tossed her a drafting pencil and motioned toward the roll of land maps on the table. "And all those should be frustrating enough to test your hairdo!"
Leslie grimaced and wrinkled her nose. "By the time I finish that, I'll have it all pulled out by the roots."
BY WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON Leslie was indeed ready to pull her hair out by the roots. The map work was so tedious and boring! But it had to be precise, for it was crucial that Ramco Exploration know exactly what leases were available, which ones were held by other companies, and which of those leases held by other companies were about to expire. Leslie had completed all the drafting and was now color coding them so they could tell at a glance the status of each section.
She had, out of desperation, resorted to climbing on top of the table so she could reach from one side of the map to the other. She was sitting cross-legged in
the middle of the table, shading in the last of the segments when one leg developed a painful cramp. To ease the muscle she stood up and stretched, then stared down at the map beneath her feet. It had been a terrific amount of work, but it would be worth it.
She heard Ted chuckle behind her. "Leslie Jordan Kairns, what exactly are you doing?"
"What every smart geologist should be doing. I'm looking for the big X that says drill here."
"Well, that's one method that's never been tried by Ramco!"
Leslie whirled around. Steve stood leaning against the doorjamb, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his jeans, a wicked grin on his face. There was an older man with him, who was staring at Leslie with a look that could best be described as dumbfounded. Her face turned scarlet.
"Leslie, I'd like you to meet the president of Ramco, John McRory. Uncle John, this is Leslie Kairns, the geologist I was telling you about.''
As Leslie scrambled off the table, John McRory continued to stare at her with the oddest expression on his face. "My God, Steve, she's a girl—she's a child!"
"Only sometimes, Uncle John. Only sometimes."
Leslie had never felt so embarrassed. Here she was, in slacks and a sweater, no makeup on, Steve's joggers on her feet—she knew she must look about fifteen years old! And the president of Ramco had found her standing on a table making ridiculous statements. To top it off, he, too, had assumed the geologist would be a man.
She wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She threw Steve a desperate glance, and found him watching her with an expression that clearly said, "How are you going to get yourself out of this one, Leslie Kairns?" It didn't help when she saw that his eyes were gleaming with suppressed laughter.
She turned to face John McRory. "How do you do, Mr. McRory." Her dimples flashed as she smiled up at him, her face pink and sheepish. John McRory took her outstretched hand, his eyes still slightly dazed. "Your nephew is thoroughly enjoying your reaction, I'm afraid. He didn't think I looked like much of a geologist, either."
John McRory retained her hand in his big one as his brow knitted for a brief moment. Then his eyes crinkled and his face relaxed into a disarming grin. "Then my nephew is a sap, Leslie. It is indeed my pleasure to meet you." He pursed his lips, his eyes still dancing. "But you aren't very big, are you?"
Leslie could feel herself flush again, especially when Steve said, "She's a dwarf, Uncle John." His voice was rich with amusement. Leslie tried to glare at him, but she could feel a smile coming on.
John patted her on the shoulder as he winked at her. "Of course she is—she's one of the enchantresses. Anyone can see that." He was as matter-of-fact about it as if he was stating the time of day. Leslie turned to grin triumphantly at Steve, and found him watching his uncle in total disbelief.
John McRory led Leslie over to the table. "Now, Leslie, Steve tells me you have done some extensive analysis concerning Redwillow. I understand you have a very sound theory on the possibility of a large gas field there. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."
For the next three hours, Leslie was subjected to the most intense interrogation she had ever experienced. It didn't take her long to realize that John McRory was an authority on the petroleum industry, and that he was as tough a taskmaster as his nephew. All the preliminary studies and preparations they had labored on the past few days were now paying dividends. Steve had left not one item to chance. The information was all there, and Leslie could tell that John McRory was more than a little impressed.
Steve said hardly a word during the interview, leaving Leslie, and sometimes Ted, to field the rapid-fire questions from his uncle. Leslie was quietly confident during the entire session. She was well prepared, thanks to Steve, and the simple fact that he was in the room with her was reassuring.
At last John McRory leaned back in his chair and squinted at Leslie as he lit another cigarette. She knew he was mentally evaluating both herself and the facts she had presented. She was beginning to develop a severe headache, partly from the tension that was gnawing at her nerves and partly from the heavy blue haze of stale smoke that hung in the room.
"So, Leslie, you feel that if this particular type of geological outcrop can be located on the western periphery, it would be the final supporting evidence we need?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you any recommendations about where we should begin the search?"
"Yes. If you look at this topographical map, you can see there's a very definite ridge that runs just east of the Alberta-British Columbia border. That would be the most obvious area to check with an aerial survey."
"What if nothing shows there?"
"I think the area farther west should be explored."
John studied the map, his brows knitted. "What do you think, Ted?"
"I'm not a geologist, John, I'm a drilling engineer. But Leslie's recommended approach appears to be a very sensible one."
"Steve?"
Leslie held her breath and tucked her hands behind her back, furtively crossing her fingers. Steve came over and stood beside her to study the map. Unobtrusively he slipped his hand behind her, his eyes narrowing with a knowing, amused look when he caught her hands and felt her crossed fingers. She glanced up at him and grimaced ruefully. He laced his fingers through hers and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"I think we should locate that outcrop before we make a final decision."
"Sounds like you plan on finding it."
Steve's hand tightened around Leslie's. "I'm going to give it a damned good try."
John pressed the tips of his fingers together and tapped his chin reflectively with his forefingers. After what seemed to be a never-ending silence, he leaned back in his chair and slammed his hands down on the table. "If you can find that formation, I think Ramco should move on the Redwillow project immediately."
Leslie's feeling of light-headed elation was short-lived. A moment later the impact of the awesome responsibility she had undertaken slammed into her. A company was prepared to spend millions of dollars on an exploration program based on her research, on her theory. It was terrifying. Here she was, a young untried geologist with the minimum of field experience, accountable for a massive development.
She eased her hand out of Steve's and moved over to the window as panic snaked within her, arousing a multitude of misgivings. She felt as though she had inadvertantly stepped out onto a tightrope, and her only means of escape was to walk across it.
Leaning her face against the windowpane, Leslie closed her eyes as the coldness of the glass soothed the throbbing in her temples. Some of the rigidity eased from her body as she felt the weight of Steve's hands on her shoulders.
"Headache?"
She nodded weakly.
His strong fingers began massaging the taut muscles across her shoulders and up the back of her neck. "What's the matter, Les?"
She shrugged her shoulders. How did you tell your employer that the magnitude of a project they were about to embark on terrified you?
He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. "I have to drive Uncle John back to the airport. Why don't you come with me? We could stop off for dinner somewhere afterward."
Most of the gut-twisting apprehension she had been experiencing oozed out of her as she looked up at him. His strength and self-confidence radiated from him, surrounding her with a warm security.
She smiled at him. "I'd like that, Steve. Thank you." Her eyes began to sparkle with mischief. "I also want to thank you for the dwarf shoes—they even fit!"
He laughed softly and squeezed her shoulders. "I noticed. I also noticed your hair. I like it like that, Leslie—it suits you."
Leslie lowered her eyes, feeling suddenly very shy. It was almost as though he knew she'd had it cut because of him.
"Steve, we'd better go. I don't want to miss that Toronto flight."
Steve eased his hands off her shoulders, picking up his jacket and Leslie's as he turned to face his uncle.
Everyone laughed as Leslie colored beautifully.
LESLIE TRIED TO IGNORE her terrible doubts about the project, but they kept eating away at her for the remainder of the afternoon. She was relieved that Steve had accepted her excuse about having a headache. He didn't attempt to draw her into the conversation, and she was more than content just to listen to him and John.
It wasn't until after dinner that she realized she hadn't fooled him for one minute. They had finished dinner and were lingering over their coffee.
"Leslie, what's been bothering you all afternoon?"
Steve's voice was very quiet, but Leslie was aware of the unyielding metal in it. She took a deep breath as she tried to shrug off his question. "It was just an off day, Steve. Developing the different profile maps was nerve-racking, and I was feeling really frustrated by it."
Steve absently stirred his coffee, his face reflective. After a long silence he looked at her, his face unreadable. "I know that's not the whole truth, Les." He continued to watch her with a penetrating gaze that made her feel uneasy. How could she explain to a man like Steve McRory how terrified she was? Damn him, she didn't want him probing into her inner doubts, her insecurities—they would only reflect on her credibility with him. She could feel his eyes on her as she twisted her napkin nervously.
"You don't trust me, do you?"
Leslie's own eyes widened with alarm at the unexpectedness of his comment and the brittleness in his voice. The feeling of anxiety expanded in her chest. How could she reveal her overwhelming feelings of inadequacy without seeming like an absolute idiot? She avoided looking at Steve as she chewed her bottom lip. The tension between them grew.
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