Leslie stood transfixed, mesmerized by the smoldering look in Steve's eyes, a look that seemed to bind her to him. She reached up and softly touched the twitching muscle along his jaw.
Steve caught her hand and pressed her palm roughly against his mouth. Then with a muttered curse he pulled her to him, his arms crushing her in an embrace that seemed almost desperate. His mouth was hungry and demanding, and Leslie responded to his searching kiss with a fire of her own. Passion blazed up around them, consuming them in a fierce flame.
Abruptly, he pushed her away. "Damn it, Leslie, move." His voice was hoarse, but there was a ring of raw anger in it that snapped her out of her trance. His eyes were flashing blue fire.
Mortification seared through Leslie as she tore herself away from the warm haven of his arms and fled blindly up the stairs. She was trembling so badly that she had difficulty dressing. Now she had done it. She had made him angry.
She sighed heavily as she slipped into her sheepskin jacket, then reluctantly picked up a small canvas duffel bag and her camera case. He could unhinge her with a single look.
She wished she could remain in her room, but knew that was no solution. Briefly she toyed with the idea of making up an excuse so she wouldn't have to go. She had a job to do, however, and Steve was depending on her to do it. She would have to struggle through the best she could, even though the weekend had been ruined before it even began. With another sigh of resignation, Leslie left her room and slipped silently down the stairs.
Steve was sprawled in one of the big easy chairs in the living room, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. He stood up and stretched like a cat when he heard her approach. "Ready?"
Leslie nodded, her eyes downcast as he took the bag and camera case from her clammy hands. She had to force herself to keep from shying away as he opened the door for her. Stepping out into the cold crisp air, she searched frantically for appropriate words to phrase an apology, but her mind was blank.
Steve unlocked the passenger door of his four-wheel drive and stowed her luggage in the back. When he caught her elbow, Leslie thought he was going to help her into the high cab. Instead he swung her around to face him.
Her eyes widened with uncertainty as he spanned her jaw with his hand. "What's the matter, Les?" The eerie glow from the streetlights cast long shadows across his rugged face, cloaking his expression.
She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of discomfiture. "I...I—" She closed her eyes briefly as a tight knot in her throat prevented her from continuing.
Steve folded her stiff body in his arms. "Leslie, I'm sorry that I snapped at you earlier. But things were rapidly getting out of hand and believe me, I didn't want that to happen—not like that." He groaned as he molded her closer against him. "Oh, Dwarf, you do play hell with my good intentions!"
The champagne of relief bubbled through Leslie, intoxicating her. She felt a whisper of a kiss against her temple, and she tipped her face up to look at him. "I'm sorry, Steve. I didn't mean to...be like that."
He kissed her parted lips softly, then murmured, "I know you don't. One of the things that's so damned appealing about you is your innocence." He kissed her again, then without warning scooped her up in his arms and deposited her determinedly on the truck seat. "In you go before we get sidelined again. You could drive me crazy, Leslie Kairns!" He slammed the door and strode around the front of the vehicle.
Suddenly the morning took on a new hue for Leslie. It was beautiful. The night sky was fading and the first light of dawn was tinting some fluffy cumulus clouds a shade of dusty mauve, heralding what promised to be a magnificent sunrise.
As they drove through the empty streets their conversation centered on what they hoped to find over the weekend. Leslie shivered when, once again, she thought of the magnitude of their project. The involuntary shudder didn't escape Steve's perceptive eyes. He reached over and drew her across the upholstered seat until she was snuggled firmly against him. "Still worrying about the project?"
Leslie rested her head against his leather-clad shoulder. "A little, but not nearly as much since we talked about it."
"Good. I don't want you getting in a 'twist' over it. I don't need a pretzel for a geologist."
He laughed as she punched him on the shoulder and lifted her nose imperiously. "What's wrong with that—pretzels are yummy."
He shot her a glance that made her skin tingle. "But they're also addictive. When you taste one, you can't stop." She couldn't even pretend to miss the insinuation, it was so pointed. Leslie turned pink, and his eyes sparkled with a roguish gleam as he laughed softly.
Steve swung off McKnight Boulevard onto a street that was unfamiliar to Leslie.
"Where are we going?"
"To the airport."
Leslie looked at him in puzzlement. "But this isn't the way."
"Really?"
"No, it isn't, and you know it!"
"Do I now?"
He was being deliberately obtuse. Leslie noticed the corner of his mouth twitch once as if he were holding back a smile. What was he up to? She was none the wiser when Steve wheeled into a darkened parking lot alongside a hangar. He switched off the ignition and the lights, then climbed out of the truck.
Walking around the vehicle, he opened Leslie's door and lifted her down. "Out you come, Dwarf. This is the end of the line." He set her on her feet, then reached into the back of the Blazer and hauled out their luggage. He handed Leslie her camera case, then slammed the door and locked it. "My admiration for you has shot up, Les. I didn't think there was a woman alive who could go away for three days and pack everything in one small bag."
Leslie slung the camera case over her shoulder and rammed her hands in her pockets as she fell into step with him. "That's a male-perpetrated myth, you know."
"It's no myth. I have three sisters who strip their closets bare whenever they go anywhere."
Leslie grinned and hitched up the shoulder strap of the case. Her voice was wistful as she said, "Three sisters. It must be great to come from a big family. Since I was an only child, I spent half my life wishing for brothers and sisters."
Steve laughed wryly. "It had its moments, I can tell you. I'm sure there were times when mum and dad would have loved to drown the pack of us. I have two brothers as well. We'd fight like hell among ourselves, but heaven help the unsuspecting soul who tried to bother any one of us."
Leslie laughed, warmed by the obvious affection Steve felt for his family. "Where are they all, Steve?"
"They all live fairly close together. Mum and dad have a ranch west of High River. My youngest brother and sister are still at home."
"And the others?"
"The middle brother and his wife live on the ranch, too. They've built a house right across from mum's and dad's. My two other sisters are married, one to a doctor in Okotoks and the other to an accountant in High River." Steve opened the side door into the hangar.
"You're the oldest?"
"Yes, worst luck."
Leslie laughed as she followed him down the corridor and through another doorway. "No wonder you're so impossible and bossy."
"Watch it, woman."
Leslie's answering retort was replaced by a gasp of surprise. The hangar housed several small aircraft, but the one that caught her eye was a sleek bright yellow plane that looked like it would have the speed of an arrow.
Her eyes were sparkling with delight and Steve grinned down at her. "Have you ever flown in a small plane?"
"No, never—but I always wanted to." And she had. Her grandfather had traveled in his own Lear jet, and for shorter hops he'd always used a helicopter.
Steve approached the yellow plane, opened the door and swung the luggage inside.
"Is this yours?'' Her voice was high pitched with astonishment.
"Yes. What do you think of her?"
"She's beautiful," breathed Leslie. She couldn't repress a little shiver of glee. "Oh, Steve, are we really going to be flying in this?"
"I guess
we'll have to, unless you prefer to try out your red balloon," replied Steve, his voice heavy with dry humor.
Leslie stuck her tongue out at him, then ran her hand slowly along the tapered nose. "What is it?"
"A Beechcraft Baron. Why don't you hop in? I have to file a flight plan before we take off, but that'll only take me a few minutes."
Leslie nodded, her eyes sparkling, her face flushed with excitement. Steve's own expression sobered as he watched her, his eyes changing to a smokey blue. She glanced up at him, and that one look was enough for the attraction between them to catch them in its magnetic pull. Leslie's breathing became shallow and erratic as a swell of desire rose hotly within her, sending her blood pulsing through her veins like warm heady brandy. His eyes bewitched her, firing the longing he always awoke in her. As the tension mounted she unknowingly breathed his name.
With the grace of a panther he moved toward her and caught her roughly against him, his control gone. There was none of his usual tenderness in the demanding kiss, but instead, an unleashed hunger that searched for satiation as he devoured her lips. Leslie melted against him, denying him nothing, returning his passion in equal measure as her desire grew to a fierce ache. Her response ignited his own, and he moved his mouth against hers with an urgency that obliterated all rational thought. She clung to him, the pnly real thing in the unreal world of tempestuous longing. She had never experienced such a sweet eruptive turmoil before, and it left her helpless, mindless, totally at his mercy.
Leslie moaned as he dragged his mouth away and caught her face in his shaking hands. Without saying a word, he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.
After a long charged silence, he stepped gently back and kissed her softly. "Get in, Dwarf. I'll be right back."
Leslie heard a muttered curse as he strode around the plane. With trembling legs she climbed into the cockpit and sank weakly into the bucket seat. She tipped her head back and shut her eyes tightly as she tried to quell the stampeding emotions that churned inside her.
She was still sitting like that when Steve opened the door of the plane. She opened her eyes as he climbed into the pilot's seat. He slipped a clipboard into the pocket on the door, then turned to face her. His face became stern as he studied her tremulous mouth. There was a flash of remorse in his eyes, then he swore softly and reached across the cockpit to tenderly stroke her lips with his fingers.
He started to speak, but Leslie pressed her hand against his own mouth as she whispered, "Don't you dare apologize, Steve McRory. It was as much my fault as yours." A spark of humor glinted in her eyes. "I may be...inexperienced, but I'm not a china doll—I won't shatter." She traced the outline of his firm mouth, her eyes as soft as brown velvet. "If you keep it up though, I might melt."
A flicker of a smile played around Steve's mouth, dramatically softening the set lines of his face. "You're not safe with me, Leslie. You know that."
Leslie's expression was grave, her eyes earnest and unwavering. "But I am safe with you, Steve. You know that." A bubble burst within her, filling her with warm happiness. Steve would never deliberately hurt her.
"That's quite a vote of confidence, you know."
She flashed her dimples at him, her eyes teasing. "Will I spoil my ballot if I vote twice?"
Steve twisted around and reached across her, catching the harness of her seat belt. He carefully secured it around her, then he took her shoulders in his hands and shook her gently, teasingly. "I knew you were big trouble the minute I laid eyes on you," he laughed huskily.
Leslie grinned. "That is not true—I'm only a little trouble. Not even you can make a mountain out of a molehill."
He leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth. A current crackled around them like static electricity, and the power of attraction pulled Leslie into its field. A movement outside the plane caughtj: her eye, however, and she struggled to maintain some equilibrium. "They've just opened the big hangar door," she whispered against his cheek. "Does that mean they think we ought to leave?"
Steve hugged her hard, then settled back in the pilot's seat and fastened his own seat belt. His laugh was like a warm caress. "Ah—Dwarf, I think that was a very neat example of circuit breaking.''
Leslie flashed back, her cheeks a telltale pink, "I think you're just procrastinating, Steve McRory. I don't think you really know how to fly this thing."
He slipped on his sunglasses and grinned. "There's that touch of defiance again. I'm beginning to think you like playing with fire."
Leslie was beginning to think so, too.
THE SUNRISE WAS INDEED BEAUTIFUL, beginning with a kiss of gold that touched the grayness of dawn, then fired the sky with oranges and purples and pinks. The clouds, now deep purple, were haloed with a rosy glow that covered the snow-capped mountains in a soft ethereal pink.
As the sun rose higher, the autumn colors of the landscape below took on the intensity of a van Gogh painting. From the awesome, rugged Rockies across the barren foothills to the sweep of flat checkered farmland, the colors were as vivid as an artist's palette. Over fields and villages, over lakes and forests they flew, and a panorama of beauty and color, of nature in its glory unfolded before them.
Leslie treasured those few hours. She spent each moment like a miser, as if it would be her last.
Steve had brought coffee and sandwiches, so they ate their lunch in flight. They talked, laughed, argued, and shared companionable silences. It was a perfect day.
A fierce band of regret tightened around Leslie's chest when at last they taxied down the gravel runway toward a single small hangar, which had Jansen's Air Service blazoned on it. The time had passed far too quickly, but she refused to acknowledge the remorse that threatened to spoil her happy mood.
Instead she turned her thoughts to other matters, and tried to recall everything Steve had told her about Bob Jansen. The two men had gone to high school together and had managed to maintain their friendship during the ensuing years. Steve had been best man at Bob's wedding, and it had been Bob who taught Steve how to fly.
A few years ago, Bob had sunk every cent he could lay his hands on into starting his air service. Now his thriving business boasted two twin Otters, a helicopter, and several small aircraft. It was from Bob that Steve was renting a helicopter for their search.
The plane rolled to a halt. Steve made some adjustments to the instruments in front of him, then turned to face Leslie. "Well, Dwarf, this is it. I suppose you're disappointed we didn't crash?"
Leslie laughed as he unclasped her seat belt. "I can't say I had a burning desire to crash, but I did think you were tempted to toss me out when we were arguing!"
"What! And spoil my fun? Never, especially when you always rise so beautifully to the bait." He reached out and ruffled her hair. "Come on. Let's see if we can catch Bob counting his money."
They were walking across the runway toward the hangar when a figure in blue coveralls came bounding out of the building. His face broke into a broad grin as he loped toward them. "When I saw that yellow lemon bouncing down the runway, I knew it had to be you. Still flying by the seat of your pants, I see!"
Steve laughed and clasped Bob's outstretched hand. "What do you expect when I had such a lousy flight instructor?''
"Well, he didn't have much to work with to begin with." He shook Steve's hand firmly. "It's damned good to see you, Steve. It's been a long time." Bob then turned to face Leslie and offered her his hand. "I'm Bob Jansen. Welcome to Grande Prairie."
Leslie, who was usually reticent with strangers, smiled back warmly, feeling completely at ease as Bob's big hand encased hers. She opened her mouth to answer, but Steve interjected, "This is Leslie Kairns, Bob. Leslie's my new geologist." There was something about his stress on the word "my" that caused a crazy little flutter in her breast.
Bob studied Leslie intently through squinted eyes, nodding his head approvingly. "Well, I'll be damned! Maybe there's hope for you yet, Steve. At least your taste in geologists has
improved a hell of a lot!" He grabbed the luggage from Steve's hand and started striding toward a battered half-ton truck, which was parked beside the hangar. "Come on. Anne will have seen you land, and she'll be madder'n a hornet if we dawdle.''
Leslie unobtrusively examined Bob Jansen. He was not as tall as Steve, but he was huskier. Whereas Steve had the long rippling muscles of a cat, Bob had the thick heavy build of a bull. There was the same rugged independence stamped on his tanned features, however, and his eyes possessed the same direct keenness. Yes, Bob and Steve were cut from the same fabric. She could see why they had remained such good friends.
Bob glanced down at her and grinned. "Well, what do you think, Miss Kairns? Will I pass?"
Leslie could feel herself turn scarlet. She met his level gaze with a sheepish grin. "I was just thinking that you must be made of stern stuff to have put up with Steve for so many years. You'll pass on that merit alone."
Bob gave a great shout of laughter. At the same time Steve shot Leslie a menacing leer. "Maybe I should have tossed you out after all."
Her eyes were sparkling with mischief, and she gave him a prim saccharine smile. "Before we took off or after?"
Steve's eyes narrowed dangerously as he caught her arm and marched her firmly around to the passenger side of the truck. He knew very well that she was making an oblique reference to the heated embraces they had shared in the Calgary hangar.
His voice was low and throaty as he reached out a finger and caressed her lips. "Little Leslie is playing with fire again, and little Leslie is going to get burned."
Leslie experienced the now-familiar sensation of drowning as his eyes held hers. She released her breath with a shaky sigh when his hand deliberately brushed her breast as he reached in front of her to open the door. They climbed into the cab, and she was acutely aware of the pressure of his body against hers, the weight of his arm on her shoulders when he'd stretched it along the back of the seat.
The thread of tension snapped when Bob gnashed the gears mercilessly. They roared off in a thick cloud of smoke and dust, the truck careering recklessly over the rutted gravel road.
Hold Back The Dawn Page 10
