His laps finished, Leon turned on to his back and floated, grinning up at the expanse of blue sky overhead. He had never seen anyone so angry as Merle had been that day in the truckstop after meeting Laddie Boy. It was a wonder she hadn't had a stroke.
That little scene with Greg Larson when she got back to the motel hadn't been very funny though, he thought, his good humour rapidly fading. He had been half-afraid something like that might happen after the way the geologist had so obstinately refused to give her up. He hoped she had enough sense to stay away from the rest of his men. He had only been half-serious when he had given her that little rape speech, but he was beginning to think he might not have been far wrong. Merle was a strange woman. She wasn't that much to look at, but something about her aroused primitive passions. He wasn't a schoolboy when it came to women, but it hadn't been that easy to maintain control that afternoon out on the prairie when she had responded to him like that. He had been very tempted to roll out one of those sleeping bags— whether that was what she had wanted or not.
He floated to the edge of the pool and flipped over to pull himself out. The chlorinated water ran in rivulets down his chest as he reached for the towelling robe he had dropped by the poolside. As he was rubbing his hair, he glanced around the pool area, his eyes coming to rest on a pair of long, shapely feminine legs stretched out on a lounger opposite him, their owner lying motionless on her stomach. Now what was she doing here? He would have expected her to spend the day in bed, or better yet, to drive back to Calgary and give up the job.
She must have been there all along. She was probably pretending to be asleep so she could ignore him. The thought that she might be trying to avoid him appealed to his sense of humour and he started to grin. He hadn't expected her to be dumb enough to stay out all night watching the well. Once she realised they weren't doing any tests, Leon had expected her to know she had been tricked and give up.
You're a real bastard, Leon, he told himself as he stood up. Shrugging on the robe, he walked around the pool towards the reclining figure. He just couldn't resist the temptation to go over and tease her. She must have felt pretty foolish when she realised what he had done.
His bare feet were soundless on the concrete as he padded over to her. Reaching the lounger where she lay, he stared down at her, letting his eyes roam over her exquisitely curved female shape. He had always liked women with good legs, and Merle had a beautiful pair. The rest of her wasn't bad either, he thought, his eyes moving over her shapely hips, then following the narrow curve of her waist.
Leon frowned when he noticed her arms. They were covered with calamine lotion, the chalky pink failing to conceal the raised splotches of hundreds of insect bites. She must have been eaten alive out there last night. The little fool!
He reached down and removed the wide straw hat that covered her head. Her face was turned to the side and was, like her arms, covered in pink calamine. When she didn't stir, he realised she really was asleep. He felt a strange little ache in his chest as he studied her. Her long, dark lashes rested on cheeks distorted by the bites. Blue shadows ran under eyes that were faintly red and swollen, one still slightly discoloured by a fading bruise.
She'd been crying, he thought, mildly shocked. It had never occurred to him that that might be her reaction to his little joke. Mad enough to chew nails, maybe, but tears? That just didn't seem like the Merle he was coming to know. He felt uncomfortable that something he had done had reduced her to weeping. She took her job far too personally, far too seriously. It was only a game; certainly not worth crying over.
He became aware of the sun beating on his head, that his hair was already dry from the heat. He should wake her up, she couldn't sleep out here all day. If she did, she would have sunburn to contend with in addition to the bites. He reached down and shook her gently by the shoulder. 'Merle… Merle, wake up. You can't sleep out here.'
Her nose wrinkled faintly, but her lashes never stirred. The little idiot probably didn't sleep at all last night, he thought, irritated by her stubbornness. A beach robe was lying on the cement next to the lounger and he picked it up, checking the pocket. As he expected, he found her room key and pulled it out. She was dead to the world, so he would have to carry her to her room.
Leon's arms were beginning to ache, his breathing was somewhat laboured, by the time he got her into her room and deposited her on the bed. Merle might have a beautiful shape, but she was no lightweight. He had nearly dropped her while trying to open the door with her key—though he was starting to think that she probably would have slept through even that.
As on that first time he had seen her, her bikini top had been unclasped, so rather than fasten it, he had simply wrapped the robe around her sleeping form to carry her into the building. Now, as she lay reclining on the bed, it fell from her, exposing her firm, rounded breasts. Leon found his eyes drawn to them, the creamy, untanned flesh where the bra top protected them, the dark rose nipples. Desire stirred in his groin. She must have just about driven poor Larson half out of his mind with wanting. No wonder he had wanted to beat her when he found out how little he meant to her.
A flimsy peach nightgown lay on the floor next to the bed, and Leon stooped to pick it up. It seemed a shame to cover her up, but he doubted she would appreciate it if she woke up to find him making love to her. None the less, he couldn't resist tasting the honey of those breasts just once before pulling the nightgown over them and he groaned silently as he felt the nipple harden between his lips. Merle stirred slightly, moaning softly in her sleep, but didn't waken. God, he wanted her, but he forced himself to pull the gown the rest of the way down and tuck her under the covers.
The temptation to join her in the bed was strong, so he made himself look around the room in order to forget it. What a mess! Merle might be a good oil scout, but she wasn't much of a housekeeper. A pile of dirty laundry occupied one corner and every surface was covered with clutter. He knew the motel sent a maid in to the rooms let on a weekly basis twice a week to vacuum and change the bedding and he wondered what the poor woman thought of this.
A stack of books rested on the table by the window and, idly, Leon went over to examine them. The Prairie Environment, Wild Flowers of Alberta, The World Around You, smiling to himself, Leon silently read the titles. Opening the flyleaf of the first one, he realised it was a library book, overdue at that. He studied the date stamped on the card. She must have driven into Medicine Hat and picked these up the day after he had questioned her about being a naturalist.
Curious now, he wandered about the room, occasionally picking up an item and examining it. There was a vase of dead flowers on the dresser, half-filled with slimy green water. He wondered if they were the ones she had picked that afternoon he had seen her out on the prairie, his eyes drawn back to the bed.
Realising his thoughts were straying into dangerous territory again, he wandered into the bathroom. Having seen the bedroom, he was not surprised to find cosmetics strewn haphazardly over the vanity, blots of toothpaste splattering the sink. Chuckling softly, he picked up the uncapped tube of toothpaste. If Merle ever got married, the fellow had better be wealthy: he would have to hire plenty of servants to pick up after her.
Putting down the toothpaste, he spotted a bottle of red capsules among the clutter on the vanity. Frowning, he picked it up and read the label: sleeping pills. Automatically, he glanced through the open doorway at the girl on the bed, a cold knot forming in his stomach. She wouldn't have, would she? He knew she was tired after her night on the prairie so it wouldn't be surprising that he had been unable to wake her. Besides, she just wasn't the type. But, she wasn't the type to cry, either, he reminded himself, and she had been crying.
He reread the label on the pill vial. The prescription had been for fifty capsules and there were still a large number remaining. He shook the bottle trying to judge how many. He couldn't. He would have to count them, he just couldn't walk out of here without being certain.
Leon cleared aw
ay a space on the counter and dumped out the tablets. Carefully, he started counting the little red pills and returning them to the bottle. One, two, three, four… Sweat broke out on his brow and he wiped it away impatiently. Forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three. He put the last capsule into the vial. Seven missing. He stared at the bottle. She could have taken the seven at any time. Surely, if she had wanted to kill herself she would have taken more? Seven wouldn't be a lethal dose… would it?
He looked at the jumble of jars and tubes that littered the vanity. It was possible she had taken the seven by accident. The care and efficiency she devoted to her job obviously didn't extend to the other areas of her life. Merle wasn't very good at taking care of herself and he wouldn't put it past her to accidentally overdose.
Leon had just decided to make another attempt at trying to wake her, when he spotted something red lying half-hidden by the lid from a jar of face cream. He lifted the lid, frowning at the capsule. Quickly, he began sorting through the bottles and jars lying on the vanity. Within a few minutes, he had discovered three more tablets, one from the floor. That made four out of the seven. Even if she had taken the other three today, he doubted that they would harm her.
He glared at the girl sleeping peacefully on the bed, angry that she had given him such an unnecessary scare. Granted, it was his own fault for jumping to conclusions, but he still wanted to shake her awake and give her a piece of his mind. Instead, he pocketed the vial of sleeping pills. He didn't think she would miss them from amid all the junk and he knew he would feel a lot better if she didn't have them. Not that he thought she would attempt suicide, but he knew he would worry about her accidentally taking too many if he left them.
Quietly, he let himself out of the room and went to prepare for his trip to Calgary. He never did figure out why he stopped at the desk on his way out and arranged for them to have the maid go in to clean Merle Halliday's room every day instead of bi-weekly. He asked them to tell her it was a change in policy and not mention he was having the service charged to Puma Resources. It was a crazy thing to do, especially when he fully expected her to check out and go home as soon as she had rested.
When Merle finally woke, the room was in complete darkness. She felt considerably better after the rest, as she had been exhausted when she had returned to the motel that morning. Too tired to sleep even. Finally, she had taken a sleeping pill and gone for a swim while she waited for it to take effect. Strange, she could remember stretching out on one of the loungers for a few minutes before going back to her room but she couldn't remember leaving the pool area.
She reached over and snapped on the bedside light, propping herself against the headboard. This morning, after finding out what a rotten trick Leon had played on her, she had been half-way resolved to giving up. What information she had managed to gather in the past week was so sketchy as to be nearly useless.
Now that she was rested though, she knew she wasn't going to quit, mainly because she didn't want Leon to know he was getting to her. Also, she was going to control her temper in the future, and not let him goad her as he had been doing.
He couldn't keep up the tactics of this last week indefinitely. He couldn't afford to. In order to make sure she wasn't around when they were changing the bits, he must have being doing it more frequently than necessary so they wouldn't get caught with a worn bit. Drill bits were by no means cheap, so this last week must have cost him.
There were other reasons the drill stem had to come out of the hole, as well. If the bit hits a steeping dipping rock strata the hole will move out of the vertical line. Consequently, 'straighthole' surveys are necessary occasionally to correct deviations. Then, of course, some of the tests required changes in bit or pipe type, so the drill stem had to come up. No, Merle concluded, Leon couldn't continue drilling crooked holes with new bits and not conducting any tests forever.
Though the memory of the 'rainbow defeat' hovered like a black cloud on the edge of her consciousness, Merle attacked her job with renewed vigour over the next couple of weeks. Leon Crane was no longer in evidence, though the field geologist he had hired to replace Greg Larson was staying at the motel. If she had thought she would have had any success she would have tried starting a friendship with him, but concluded it would probably be a waste of time. The new man was a completely different type from Greg and Merle didn't think her feminine wiles would take her very far. He was at least twenty years older than Greg and also wore a wide gold wedding band.
Merle was spending almost all her waking hours on the hilltop now. The one time she noticed her room seemed a little cleaner than usual, she imagined it was because she wasn't spending enough time in it to dirty it up. It was a physically demanding time. The dry heat of the prairie sapped her energy and she continued to lose weight. She suspected her movements were still being monitored, so occasionally she got up before dawn to walk the seven miles to the site so her truck could remain parked at the motel.
Each clue, each little bit of information, was a hard-won victory but slowly she was starting to build a picture of what they were finding underground, and she knew the energy she was expending was worth it. Leon Crane hadn't got the best of her yet.
One day when a shiny-red Blazer drove on to the site, Merle did not connect the truck with Leon at first. But, when it was parked in the shade of the office trailer and he got out, she knew he had changed vehicles. For the first time in three weeks, Merle thought of Leon without feeling a surge of anger. The Leon she had had dinner with the night he had mentioned his interest in her Blazer seemed like a completely different man from the one who had tricked her by dumping oil in the mud pit. Oh, she had glimpsed that mocking humour then, that determination to have his own way, but all his humour hadn't been sarcastic, all his requests domineering. It had been fun to tease him about his accent and he had taken it good-naturedly. Their conversation had been interesting, also. It was surprising how many interests they shared.
For some reason, a lump formed in her throat and she lowered her binoculars and swallowed hard to get rid of it. It would have been nice if they could have just gone on from there; if the well didn't exist.
The midday sun was scorching, burning through the thin cotton of her shirt and plastering it to her back with sweat. There had been thunder showers yesterday and more were forecast for today, but for now, the recent rain had only increased the humidity without the saving grace of providing even one cloud to blot out the fierce rays of the sun. Wiping perspiration from her eyes, Merle picked up the glasses and followed Leon's movements around the site. He walked with long, pantherish strides. First to talk to the rig foreman, then he went over to inspect the 'shaleshaker', the vibrating screening device that separates out the rock samples brought up in the drilling mud. After picking up a few samples, he went to the office, pausing at the door to wave a hand in the direction of the hilltop.
The gesture broke the sentimental spell that had held her while she had watched him, and she gritted her teeth in anger. Someday, someday, she would figure out a way to get even with that man.
Trying to forget the man in the office, Merle rummaged in her knapsack for the tuna sandwich she had got from the truckstop before coming out today. You decided you weren't going to let him get to you, she reminded herself as she picked off the limp lettuce from the warm sandwich. Leon would love nothing better than to goad her into a towering rage, so she just wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. If she had the misfortune of running into him while he was on this visit, she would remain cool and in control.
Leon remained in the office over the next couple of hours and Merle found herself slipping into a doze. She had found an all-night laundromat and had been out until after midnight last night catching up on her laundry. She was glad Leon had fired Greg. She could just imagine him expecting her to wash his clothes, too, she thought, as her eyelids fluttered shut.
When Merle opened her eyes again, great cumulous clouds were building on the horizon and she knew she shoul
d start back to the Blazer. Merle had no desire to be caught in a downpour, especially as it would undoubtedly be accompanied by lightning. She wasn't particularly afraid of storms, but only a fool would court disaster. As she was garnering up her belongings, she saw a truck pull up to the entrance of the site. She recognised it immediately as the company truck from a firm that supplied special testing equipment to rigs. Storm or no storm, she would have to stay here now.
Pulling out her spotting scope, Merle watched the truck drive through the gate and park near the rig. The driver got out and was Walking towards the office when Leon and the new geologist came out to greet him. She trained the scope on the truck, waiting to see what equipment would be removed from it. The breeze picked up, drying the perspiration on her shirt, as the driver continued his conversation with the other two.
'Come on,' Merle urged them. The storm was approaching quickly and she wanted to see the truck unloaded before it broke. A fat drop of moisture landed on her back and she saw Leon look up towards the hill. He said something to the driver and then the three people turned away from the truck and went to the office.
Oh, hell!
The first drop was quickly followed by a second, then a third, and then the heavens opened up. Within seconds, Merle was soaked. She had a nylon slicker in her backpack and she pulled it out and draped it over her head. There wasn't much point in putting it on properly as her clothes were already soaked, and at least using it this way provided a sense of shelter. Thunder boomed overhead and she cringed. It would be a miracle if she wasn't struck by lightning but it was probably safer to stay where she was than try to make it back to the truck.
The only advantage of a storm with such violence was that it couldn't last for long. When Merle pulled the slicker off her head twenty minutes later, it had moved on. On the horizon, a perfect rainbow arched against the prairie sky, the bands of colour almost tangible enough to touch. Merle couldn't appreciate its beauty though, reminding her as it did of that earlier defeat on the hill.
A Risky Business Page 7
