A Risky Business

by Sandra K Rhoades

  Later in the afternoon, Merle drove out to the site for another survey of the scene. As was her normal practice, she parked the Blazer a couple of miles away and walked the rest of the distance. Now that the drillers had reached a possible oil-bearing zone, she abandoned her surveillance post on the hilltop for a closer one. Although she could collect quite a bit of information through the binoculars, and even more using her spotting scope that magnified up to forty-five times, she wanted to be even closer now. Fortunately, there were several ravines running near the boundary fence and she could move quite close without being detected. Merle crept up one of them, carefully keeping out of sight and, crawling the last few yards, took up a position about thirty feet from the chain-link fence.

  The first thing she noticed was Leon Crane's black sports car. What was the matter with the man? Didn't he know he was supposed to stay in his cushy office in Calgary and wait for the reports to come in instead of visiting the site? She quickly inspected the area around the rig and seeing neither Greg nor Crane, surmised that they must be working in the office. Just knowing Leon was nearby set her nerves on edge, though, and as there didn't seem to be much going on right now, Merle beat a hasty retreat.

  She took her time returning to the Blazer. Pulling out her wild flower guide, she decided to try matching the pictures in it to the vegetation around her. After a time, she found herself becoming engrossed in the exercise. By the time she neared her vehicle, Merle's arms were filled with wild flowers. She had discovered some wild roses, Alberta's floral emblem, and when she got back to the motel, she would ask them at the desk if they had a vase she could borrow. Their bright pink petals would cheer up her room considerably.

  She had almost reached her tan and white vehicle before she noticed the car parked behind it. Leon Crane was leaning negligently against the front of his black Ferrari, obviously waiting for her. Automatically she glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see that she had approached the truck from an entirely different direction than from where the well was sited. Nevertheless, her stomach was knotted with tension when she walked over to greet him.

  'Hi, I didn't expect to see you here.' She strove for a note of pleased surprise in her voice. The surprise was easy, but she had to work on the pleased part. For several seconds he remained silent, letting his gaze wander leisurely over her body. She grew acutely conscious of her dishevelled appearance under his perusal. Her clothes were none too clean after scrambling around in that gully and her skin felt caked with dust.

  'I'm sure you didn't, Merle,' he said, his tone mocking. Although his expression was faintly amused, she sensed an underlying hostility. The knot in her stomach grew a little tighter. His eyes came to rest on the bundle of wild flowers in her arms. 'Collecting specimens?'

  Merle's cheeks flushed as pink as the flowers she was carrying. She wasn't quite sure how a naturalist would handle the plants they collected, but she was pretty sure they didn't make them into bouquets. 'Not at all,' she answered airily. Until he actually accused her of scouting the well, she wasn't going to admit anything. 'I just picked these to put in my room at the motel.' She shifted the bouquet to one arm and dug in her pocket for the truck key. 'I'll put them in the cab.' She moved towards the passenger door of the Blazer.

  'Here, let me help you,' he said suavely. Reaching out; he took her key before she realised his intention and proceeded to unlock the truck door.

  As Merle carefully laid the flowers on the seat she was keenly aware of Leon Crane peering over her shoulder, inspecting the interior of the four-wheel drive. She heard his sudden intake of breath and knew he had spotted the mobile phone. It wasn't going to be easy to explain why she carried such an expensive piece of equipment. Thank God the spotting scope was tucked safely out of sight in her knapsack. If he saw that her goose would be cooked.

  Assuming a casual air, Merle eased off her backpack and tossed it into the rear of the truck, wincing inwardly as it landed with a thud. The scope and binoculars represented an investment of several hundred dollars and she hoped they hadn't been damaged. But she didn't want Leon to become suspicious of what the pack might contain. He was watching her thoughtfully when she turned back to him, slamming the truck door as she did so. She forced herself to meet his eyes, opening hers wide in an innocent pose. 'Is something wrong?'

  'I was just wondering why a biologist would need a mobile telephone.' His gaze never left her face.

  Merle looked suitably blank for a moment, then let a smile take over. 'You noticed my phone? It's really something, isn't it? My mother got it for me when I graduated from university. She was concerned about my going out into a remote area and not being able to get in touch with anyone. You know how mothers are.' She laughed faintly, shrugging her shoulders with feigned casualness.

  She felt the hard metal of the truck's door handle jabbing into her back and knew she had unconsciously backed away from him. The realisation only served to increase her nervousness and she found herself babbling on. 'Sh-she worries about me, being out here alone, I… if the truck broke down… er… I wouldn't know how to fix it. I would be stranded…' Her flow of words trickled to a halt. Leon remained silent, simply watching her and Merle dug her nails into her palms in an effort to get a grip on herself. She had no trouble lying to Greg, fabrications fell from her lips with the ease of water bubbling from an underground spring, but it wasn't that easy with his boss.

  A faint breeze had sprung up and it ruffled the short strands of her dark hair. Leon's eyes seemed drawn by the movement and she smiled uncertainly at him. His gaze moved to her mouth, then lower, lingering on her breasts, their rise and fall erratic as tension affected her breathing. Was she imagining things or had he moved closer?

  She wasn't imagining things. He leaned forward slightly and placed his hands against the truck cab on either side of her head, his arms forming a cage. Though he wasn't touching her, Merle felt almost as though he were. She could feel the heat of his body radiating across the inches that separated them. He smelled of perspiration, after-shave, and something else, something very male that sent her pulse galloping.

  Merle knew he was watching her features, trying to read her thoughts. She kept her eyes trained on his throat, watching the steady throb of his pulse at its base. He should have been a basketball player, she thought distractedly. With most men she stood nearly at eye level, but to meet his eyes she would have to look up a long way. Dark hairs curled from the open neck of his shirt. She moistened her dry lips with her tongue, then swallowed hard. 'You…' she stopped to clear her throat but her voice remained husky, 'you were waiting for me. Did… did you have something you wanted to talk about?' She tipped her head up, forcing herself to look at his face.

  His breath was warm and not unpleasant as it fanned her cheek. He was very close, she could see the pores of his skin, the faint stubble of whiskers that sprinkled his jaw. His eyes, dark unfathomable green, fastened on her mouth. Merle parted her lips in mute invitation.

  He lowered his head and his mouth found hers, moving over it in erotic exploration. Initially her reaction was merely pretence, the surrender of her lips, the pressing of her body to his were the studied actions of an actress. She was in a tight spot, and if kissing her would divert his suspicions about her, then let him kiss her. But as his hands moved down her spine and his touch grew more demanding, she forgot she was playing a role. Conscious thought fled under the onslaught of the sensations he was awaking in her and instinct took over. The desire to acquiesce, to abandon herself to his touch overwhelmed saner impulses and she moulded her form to his.

  Leon pulled her shirt free of her jeans and his fingers feathered along the bare flesh of her spine. Merle moaned softly as she felt herself being pulled into a vortex of passion, swept along by mindless desire. When his hand slipped down to her buttocks and forced her hips against his muscled thighs, she arched against him with wanton abandon.

  He released her so suddenly she staggered back against the truck. For several seconds she sta
red at him in utter confusion, her mind fogged by the mists of passion. She felt bereft, a sailor stranded upon some foreign shore. Automatically, her hand went to her lips, gingerly touching them. They felt bruised and still tingled from the pressure of his lips.

  Leon had moved a few feet away and was studying her with blatant interest. Nothing of what had just passed between them was reflected in his rugged features, but his eyes held a self-satisfied gleam. He made a slight movement in her direction and she recoiled.

  'Now that we have that out of the way, let's have our little talk.'

  His voice was so matter-of-fact Merle almost wondered if she had imagined that kiss. She stared blankly at him for a moment longer, then a black rage started to fill her. His kiss had been a calculated move to humiliate her! An icy calm descended over her, stiffening her spine. She had no trouble meeting his eyes as she leaned back against the Blazer, crossing her arms casually in front of her. 'What about?' she asked, her voice as crisp as a winter's day.

  'Greg Larson—I want you to leave him alone.'

  Merle arched her brows. So, that was what this was all about. 'I'm afraid I don't follow you. Just why should you be concerning yourself with our friendship?'

  'Greg is my employee. Your "friendship", as you call it, is interfering with his ability to do his job. I want it stopped.' His features hardened with the order, his expression that of a man who expected to be obeyed.

  Merle's grey eyes turned to hard chips of ice as they met his. 'And just how is it interfering? I only see Greg during his time off.'

  'The next few weeks are critical to this job and I want Larson's full attention on it.'

  He wouldn't make such an admission if he suspected her of scouting the well, and Merle suddenly wanted to laugh. Mr Leon Crane wasn't as clever as he thought he was! 'And you think my friendship with him diverts his attention? Oh, come on, Mr Crane,' she jeered, 'surely not even you are arrogant enough to believe you can dictate whom your employees may have as friends.'

  His expression was glacial, his eyes dark with contempt. 'Obviously, I'm not making myself understood, so I'll put it in plain language. I don't like camp followers hanging around my men. I have enough problems with my workers out in the field without that. A man can't function when he spends all his time worrying about what his little bed-warmer is doing every time his back is turned. So just lay off Larson— and any of the other men working for me you might decide to replace him with.'

  White-hot fury flooded through her at his insult and she clenched her fist in order to control it. She felt like hitting him, smacking that arrogant look right off his face. 'You… you insulting, sewer-minded…' she sputtered. 'How dare you accuse me of such…'

  'Please, spare me the outrage,' Leon interposed in a faintly bored tone. 'I think I just had a pretty good demonstration of your 'virginal' reticence.'

  A hard ball of rage seemed to block her throat, choking her, and her mouth opened and closed like a carp's. Granted, she wasn't a virgin, but she was a far cry from being what he was suggesting! Kissing a man didn't mean much, but going on from there was an entirely different story. The only man she had ever had that sort of relationship with was Paul, and then only after they had become engaged.

  Leon started to laugh and he crossed the space that separated them in two strides. 'What's the matter, sweetheart? Disappointed because I didn't follow up on what you were offering?' His hand went to the nape of her neck, tangling in her hair and forcing her head back to look up at him. His voice dropped to a low, seductive pitch. 'Did you want us to lay out one of those sleeping bags you carry so conveniently in the back of your truck…?'

  Merle tried to move away from him but his hold was such that the movement pulled her hair, bringing a muffled gasp of pain to her lips. 'Is that what you wanted, Merle? For me to take you right out here on the prairie?' he asked softly. In a quick movement, he grasped her wrists and forced them behind her back, where he shackled them in one hand. With firm, though not painful, pressure, he propelled her against him, forcing her body against his. With his other hand he tipped her face up to his.

  Merle's breath came in slow, ragged gasps. His thighs were hard and intimate against hers, the warmth of his body soaking into her. Despite herself, her body was responding to him, her nipples hardening in arousal. Leon smiled as he noted them, clearly outlined through the thin cotton of her shirt. His thumb touched her lips, running seductively over her lower lip until they parted. 'Your invitation is coming in loud and clear, darling, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline.' His face expressed mocking regret. 'All I want from you is for you to leave Larson alone.' He released her and, turning on his heel, walked to his car. Merle heard the car door slam, then the powerful engine of the Ferrari flared to life. For several minutes, Merle could only stare blankly at the cloud of dust that lingered where it had been parked.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dawn was breaking over the Alberta prairie when Merle drove into the motel parking lot. The indigo sky was gradually changing to turquoise and the cool morning air was filled with the concord of birds. Crossing the lot, Merle forced herself not to look in the direction of the black Ferrari. It was three days since her encounter with Leon and he still hadn't returned to Calgary. Fortunately, she had been able to avoid meeting him during that time, but it hadn't always been easy. There weren't that many restaurants to choose from in the area and twice she had revised her choice of eating establishment at the last minute upon discovering his car in the parking lot.

  In her room Merle pulled off her soiled clothing, grimacing as she tossed them on to the pile of laundry that had collected in the corner. Somehow she would have to find the time to go into the nearest town and wash them today. The past few days had been hectic. Now that the drillers were into a potential oil-bearing zone, she was checking on the well every three to four hours. Generally she returned to the hotel so dusty and dirty she couldn't face wearing the same clothes again, and so the laundry pile had grown into a mountain.

  After her shower Merle slipped into a silky nylon nightdress. It was a ridiculously feminine creation, pale peach trimmed with ivory lace insets over her bosom, but after scrambling around gullies half the night she felt the need for something to make her feel like a woman. It swirled around her bare feet as she walked over to the air conditioner and switched it on. It wasn't particularly warm in the room as yet, but the sound of the fan would mask the noise created when the other guests began stirring. Before sliding into bed she set her travel alarm for mid-morning.

  Over an hour later she lay staring at the ceiling. Merle wasn't the type of person who normally dwelt on the unpleasant incidents that happened in life and the scene enacted out on the prairie with Crane the other afternoon certainly fell into that category! However, the whole, humiliating experience kept running through her mind. He had made a fool of her, kissing her like that, then labelling her a tramp. Just because she had responded to him didn't mean she slept with every man who made a pass at her—or that she would have slept with him either! And as for his accusations about her and Greg—

  Angrily, Merle turned over and thumped her pillow. Damn Leon Crane. She wasn't going to think about him anymore. Leaping out of the bed, she went into the bathroom and found the bottle of sleeping pills she kept for when her uncertain hours disrupted her sleep patterns. Taking out one of the small red capsules, she filled a glass with water and swallowed the pill. That was one way of getting the man out of her mind!

  Merle arrived back at the motel around three in the afternoon. A cardboard box filled with clean laundry rested on the seat beside her and she planned to put it away before going out to the drilling rig. She was just inserting the room key in her door when she was hailed from behind.

  She pushed her door open and turned around. 'Greg, what are you doing here? I thought you were working.' This was the first time she had seen him at the motel since her encounter with Leon.

  He beamed at her. 'The rig broke down and they had to send for a n
ew part. I figured I might as well take some time off while I had the chance.' He eyed the box she was still holding. 'Been doing laundry?'

  Merle nodded. 'Yes, and this box weighs a ton. Come on in while I put it way.' She walked into the room and placed the box on the unmade bed.

  'Gee, if I had known you were doing clothes today, I would have had you do mine, too,' Greg said, following her into the room.

  Merle glanced at him quickly, sure that he couldn't be serious, but from his expression she saw that he was. 'Well… maybe next time,' she said awkwardly, turning her attention to the box of clothes. Do his laundry, indeed! That was just the sort of comment she would expect from him. The more she saw of Greg the less she liked him.

  She had reached into the box and was lifting out a stack of folded denims, when she heard the door shut with a resounding click. Her heart lurched but she continued with her task, carrying the jeans over to the dresser and placing them in a drawer. When she turned to look at him again she noted a strange look of determination on his face.

  What now? she thought, not liking the way his eyes had moved to the bed. Lately she had thought she had finally got it through to him what the limits to their physical relationship were. A few friendly kisses, but nothing more! Well, whatever he had in mind, he could forget it. Turning back to her laundry, she said, 'This won't take long. Why don't I meet you out by the pool when I've finished and we'll go for a swim?'

  Greg came up behind her and slipped his arms around her. Lowering his head, he nuzzled her neck. 'Come on, Merle, you don't really want to go swimming, do you? Why don't you show me how much you've missed me?' His hands were making slow circles over her stomach. When he raised them to stroke her breasts, Merle jerked away.

  She swung around to face him, her eyes flashing. 'I said I'd meet you by the pool later. Now, would you mind leaving my room so I can get on with my work?' She saw his mouth tighten and knew she should have controlled her temper. There must have been some tactful way of getting out of the situation without flying off the handle. She turned away from him, not wanting to look at him. 'I'm sorry, Greg. I shouldn't have snapped at you,' she offered conciliatorially.