Leon lay back down beside her and stared at the ceiling. Merle turned her head to look at him, her eyes still dancing with amusement. Her hand reached out to trace his profile, but he didn't turn to her. 'I'm sorry I laughed—but, you're always laughing at me,' she reminded him.
'A man doesn't like being laughed at when he's making love,' he said in a petulant tone.
Merle rolled over and cradled her head against his chest. Had she really hurt his feelings by laughing like that? Leon, of all people, should have seen the humour in the situation. That was one of the things she liked about him. Oh, it was maddening when he laughed at her, but he was usually able to laugh at himself as well. She tugged on her lower lip with her teeth. Of course, men were strange when it came to sex. They had such fragile egos, maybe she really had hurt his feelings.
'I'm sorry, Leon,' she murmured against his chest. Her fingers twined in the dark hair that covered it, stroking the smooth skin underneath. Shockingly, she felt near to tears. So many times she had wanted to hurt him, to shatter his confidence the way he did hers. She couldn't bear having finally done so in this way.
'Well, I might, just might, forgive you, if you'll promise never to wear that damn thing in my bed again,' he said sternly. Rolling over swiftly, he dragged the offending garment off her and threw it to the floor.
When he had turned back to her, Merle stared into his face. Oh, she knew that look! He hadn't been hurt at all, he had just been teasing her. 'You rat!'
She raised her fist to push him away and he snatched her wrist, raising her arm over her head. His mouth sought hers and he whispered huskily against her parted lips, 'Come, dear enemy, let's make love,' before his mouth came down on hers in drugging possession. The rough hair of his chest brushed against the softness of her breasts, igniting primal fires that scorched between them. His lips moved from hers to journey in hungry exploration of the secrets of her body, savouring the taste of her, feeding the flames of passion.
'Please, now,' she pleaded, feeling that she was slowly being driven mad by the urgency of her desire. In wanton demand, she guided him over her, her nails clawing his back as she writhed beneath him. In an explosion of sensation that tore a cry from the very depths of her soul, he claimed her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Merle hummed softly to herself as she lifted the slices of bacon from the pan. Leon was in the bedroom dressing and she had offered to make their breakfast. Cooking wasn't a task she normally enjoyed, but she was deriving a great deal of pleasure from preparing this meal.
Awkwardly, she poured out the excess grease from the skillet, then took four eggs from the carton on the counter and broke them into the pan. Next, she loaded the toaster and found two plates in the cupboard. She took the fresh tomato she had found in the refrigerator and cut and arranged the slices on the plates with the bacon.
The counter was littered with egg shells and splatters of grease. Half the contents of the fridge were strewn over its surface. Merle frowned slightly when she saw the mess she had created, wishing she could learn to be as neat as Leon. It would probably take her longer to clean up than it would for them to eat.
Leon came out of the bedroom as she was sliding a spatula under one of the eggs to flip it over and she looked over her shoulder to smile at him. He was dressed in a dark blue business suit and carrying a briefcase. Merle glanced down at the satin robe she was wearing. It was just like in the movies, she thought, with the wife fixing her husband's breakfast before he goes to work. The idea didn't repel her as it once might have. All I need is some rollers in my hair.
She returned her attention to the pan and saw she had broken the yolk on the egg she had been turning. 'Darn,' she muttered as she attempted to turn another egg, and broke the yolk again. If this were a movie, they would have to do a re-take on the eggs. Someday, she promised herself, she would learn how to cook. She couldn't even fry eggs properly.
Black smoke started to rise from the toaster while she was still occupied with the eggs and Leon hurried over. He removed the toast, and taking it to the sink, started scraping off the black with a dinner knife.
'I'm sorry, Leon. I guess I'm not much of a cook,' Merle apologised softly as she scooped the eggs out on to the plates. The breakfast was ruined, the kitchen wrecked, all because she was hopelessly undomesticated.
He glanced over at her, and seeing her expression, abandoned the toast and went to her. Taking her in his arms, he gathered her to his chest. 'Now don't go weepy on me, Merle,' he chastened her.
'Don't be ridiculous, Leon. I'm not one of those silly women who cry over things,' Merle denied, though she kept her head buried in his chest.
He tilted her face up to his, noting the soft mist in her grey eyes. Poor, silly Merle, he thought, dropping his head to plant a hard kiss on her mouth. Her lips clung to his and she pressed closer to him. Leon laughed softly, hugging her tightly before putting her from him. 'When you can kiss like that, Merle, you don't need to worry about what kind of cook you are,' he assured her, enjoying the surge of colour that raced up her cheeks as she realised he knew she had been close to tears.
A few minutes later, they were seated at the table eating their breakfast. The toast tasted scorched and the coffee was a little too strong, but the eggs were delicious, even if they didn't look it. Though they ate in silence, their eyes met frequently in intimate communication. At each glance from Leon, Merle felt a little surge of warmth, a percolating happiness that seeped through her veins.
'Merle,' Leon said, pushing away his empty plate and pouring them more coffee, 'I have to be in Calgary this afternoon. I've got a meeting. Come with me.'
'To Calgary?'
'Yes. I don't want to be away from you.' He reached over and twined his fingers with hers. 'Please come, Merle. We'll have a beautiful time. The Stampede starts in a couple of days. We can go to the rodeo, and there's always lots of parties. I can show you off.' He grinned across the table at her.
'You mean you want me to come for several days?' Merle asked slowly, starting to feel uneasy.
Leon shrugged. 'Days, weeks, I don't know, darling. I hope for a long time. We're good together, Merle. I want you to live with me.'
Slowly Merle extracted her hand from his. She felt a strange little ache near her heart, something like disappointment. An ugly suspicion was growing inside her, filling her with cold dread. 'Leon, is that why you made love to me this morning?'
His eyes narrowed, his smile faded. 'What are you getting at?'
She took a deep shuddering breath. 'I want to know if you made love to me this morning so you could convince me to go with you to Calgary?' Deny it, Leon, please deny it, she silently pleaded.
'And why would I want to do that?' he asked in a deadly cold voice, his face taking on a greyish tinge.
'I can't scout your well if I'm in Calgary, can I?' Her voice quivered and she cleared her throat. 'You said you hoped for a long time. Just how long would that be, Leon?' He didn't comment and she forced the next words out. 'Until the well's in? Is that how long, Leon?'
His eyes were like hard green jewels set in a wooden mask. Merle dropped her gaze to his hand resting on the table, staring at it as he clenched it into a hard fist, the knuckles white. The seconds ticked by slowly as she waited for him to answer her, the tension building to screaming pitch.
'Are you suggesting that I would… prostitute myself to get you off this well?' he finally said, his tone somehow more menacing because he spoke so softly.
Put like that it sounded so incredibly sordid. Merle kept her eyes lowered, chewing her lower lip. She hadn't meant it quite that way, but she would have to give up her job if she went with him. 'I didn't say that the only reason you… we… you have to admit that you've pulled some pretty rotten tricks to get me off this project.'
'And what happened this morning was another "rotten trick"?'
'That's what I'm asking you,' she whispered miserably.
'Perhaps I should be asking you the same question,' he sa
id harshly. 'I just assumed you weren't sleeping with Larson, but I don't know that, do I? Is that how you operate?' Angry colour was starting to build along his cheekbones but there was still an unnatural whiteness about his mouth. 'Damn you—you must have been disappointed when you got nothing from me,' Leon jeered. 'What were you hoping for? That I would whisper pressure readings and core reports in your ear instead of endearments?' His gaze swept the room. 'Or have you been ransacking this room while I was in the shower washing the scent of you off me? Too bad my briefcase was in the other room and locked, isn't it, Merle?'
Merle's breathing was ragged as she looked up at him. Why hadn't she kept her suspicions to herself? She could tell by his reaction that they were unfounded. She could sense the hurt beneath his anger. 'I'm sorry, Leon. I—I was wrong… I know you didn't—'
'So now that I start questioning your motives you back off,' he interrupted. His anger was gaining momentum, burning out everything but the desire to hit back. 'But it's too late, Merle. You've shown me that you don't care about anything but that well and what's going on out there. You live in a pig sty rather than spend two minutes away from your spying to clean it up. You're obsessed with your sordid little job. You'd give your life, your health to find out about that well—why should your body be any different?' He laughed suddenly, a harsh, ugly sound that made Merle flinch. 'This morning… I thought we made love, but that wasn't what you were doing at all. How appalled you must have been when you found out I wanted you to come live with me—a hooker with a client she can't get rid of.'
'Leon, no, please, you have to…'
'Have to what? Pay up now?' he interrupted cruelly. 'Are you presenting me with a bill?' He paused, his eyes raking over her in contemptuous inspection. Merle felt bile rise in her throat. Leon stood up abruptly and his chair crashed to the floor. He leaned across the table threateningly, his eyes shards of green glass. Merle felt the blood drain from her face. Her heart thundered in her chest as fear gripped her.
Slowly, he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his wallet. Carefully, he extracted five one-hundred dollar bills and held them out to her. 'Here, sorry it's not in the currency you wanted.'
Merle stared at the money, feeling sick inside. Wordlessly, she stood up to leave the room. Leon caught her by the wrist as she was skirting the table. 'Take it, Merle,' he bit out between clenched teeth.
'No!' Merle wrenched her arm to break his hold and he tightened his grip.
'Take the money, Merle. I would hate to think you sacrificed yourself this morning for nothing. You can buy yourself a new nightie,' he twisted her wrist viciously and she cried out. 'I'll break it, Merle. Take the money.'
Merle raised fearful eyes to his face. Leon wasn't teasing her now, he meant it. His fingers tightened on her arm and she gasped, 'I'll take it.'
Leon dropped her arm and shoved the money into her uninjured hand. 'Get out, Merle.' He was breathing heavily, his face flushed with anger as he put a hand into his pocket. Pulling out the two sets of keys to her Blazer, he tossed them on to the table in front of her. 'Get out of here, Merle. You want information on my well, you'll just have to go back up on your hill.'
'Leon…?' Merle pleaded. How could she have been so foolish? She could have just said no… or yes. Yes… yes, she wanted to live with him. She hadn't just fallen for him; it wasn't simple infatuation. She loved him, must have loved him for a long time. All she wanted was Leon, to be with him for however long he wanted her. She didn't care about the well any more.
'Merle, get out. Now!' He turned his back on her, no longer able to bear the sight of her.
Merle bit her lip and picked up the keys. Slowly, she walked out of the unit. In the hall, she stopped, staring down at the wad of bills in her hand and feeling cold. Only now was the blood starting to return to the arm he had so brutally mistreated. It throbbed with the pain of bruised muscles, yet that pain was nothing compared to the heart-wound the money inflicted. Looking up, Merle realised she was by the vending machines. A large, cylindrical waste container stood next to the candy machine. Merle walked to it. Raising her hand, she uncurled the fingers that were wrapped around the money, letting the notes drift into the basket. Turning, Merle slowly walked to her room.
The jet was high overhead, a tiny dot in the broad blue sky leaving a wide white band behind it. The drone of its engines reached her ears, mingling with the rustle of summer-dried grasses, the steady throb of the drilling rig in the background. Merle followed its path with tear-filled eyes.
When would it end? When would the raw pain ease to a throbbing ache? How could she know? Always before, she had been the one to call it off, the one to walk away unscarred. When she had broken with Paul, she had only felt relief, her heart had not even been bruised. Now, it held a great gaping wound that filled her being with pain.
She had even called her mother, painfully aware that even though their relationship was flawed, she had no one else to turn to. Her friends of childhood had dropped away over the years, and she had never bothered to replace them. Ironically, Leon had probably come closer to being her friend than anyone else in recent years.
Her mother hadn't been home when she called, the message on her answering machine informing Merle that she was taking a Caribbean cruise but was due back soon. Would she meet someone? A man to be husband number four? Would he be the one who could finally fill Jake's shoes? Merle hoped so, for her mother, for herself. It would be easier knowing that someday she might find what she could have had with Leon with someone else.
Merle rolled on to her stomach, glancing uninterestedly at the drilling site a half-mile distant. She had come to the hilltop this afternoon after trying to reach her mother. Conscientiously, she noted the activities she observed in her little notebook, but knew she was not scouting the well. She made no attempt to collate the facts, to read into them the results of the drilling.
She studied her arm, tracing the bruises with her finger. Her wrist was blue-black and she could not move it without pain. It was physical evidence of Leon's opinion of her, should she be tempted to forget. He despised her, maybe hated her, and nothing she could do would take them back to this morning when she had been so happily preparing their breakfast. Merle rotated her wrist, finding the physical pain somehow comforting, as though it could somehow distract from the pain of bleeding emotions.
'Stop it!' She spoke aloud as tears pricked her eyes, startling a hare that had approached her still figure. The animal bounded away as Merle picked up her binoculars again and trained them on the site. She could not allow herself to wallow in self-pity. It had cost her Leon but the job was the only thing she had left. It was time she started doing it!
Over the next few days, she tried very hard to do that, forcing her thoughts away from Leon. Although he stayed in Calgary, it wasn't easy, for she could still feel his influence. He hadn't forgotten she was scouting the well and the rig workers launched a subtle campaign of harassment that made that only too clear.
It started one morning when she left her motel unit and found that someone had let the air out of all four tyres on the Blazer. It had taken her most of the day to locate a garage with a portable compressor who would come out to pump them back up. A few days later, she returned to the vehicle from her position on the hill and found that in her absence someone had broken in and scattered her camping equipment all over the prairie. When the truck refused to start the day following this incident, she wasn't surprised to discover that the rotor was missing.
Far worse than the vandalism of the truck was the personal persecution. She found herself being forced to drive further and further afield for her meals as she could no longer stand to eat at the truckstop. If any of the employees of Puma Resources were present when she was, they sent her leering looks, and made rude, over-loud comments as she passed their table. Twice, she was accosted in the parking lot as she was going to her truck. Though she wasn't harmed in anyway, the approaches had been insulting and vaguely thre
atening.
Perhaps the incidents though, were the answer to her anguish. Slowly, resentment started to build. She still couldn't think of Leon without pain, but the pain was gradually being overlaid by a veneer of anger. Enemies… when she had told Leon that they were enemies she had never conceived just what the term could entail.
She arrived back at the motel late one evening, feeling tired and dispirited. She had had dinner at a small cafe some twenty miles distant, a meal which confirmed the diner's reputation as a 'greasy spoon'. While she had never considered the truckstop a particularly great place to eat, she was beginning to discover it was far better than most of the other restaurants in the area.
The room was in darkness when she let herself in and she switched on the overhead light. Looking around, she wondered what Leon would say if he saw it now. His criticism that she lived in a pig sty had gone home and she had cleared away the clutter and made a determined effort to keep it clean since then. It hadn't been as difficult as she had assumed it would be. Yet, as her eyes moved around the room, she felt lonely and a little lost. The room looked much as it had the first day she had moved in. When it had been a mess, at least it had been her mess, but now, it looked like just what it was: a cold, impersonal motel room.
Sighing unhappily, Merle pulled off her shirt and jeans, and carefully folding them away, went into the bathroom to have her bath. Hopefully, the well would come in soon. All summer there had been strong indications that they were finding natural gas. This afternoon she had heard the rumble of gas rising in the drill pipe. A short time later, the geologist had gone out to the foreman and they had started to pull out the stem. She had left when it became obvious they were going to take a core sample. They probably wouldn't be finished getting the sample until morning and she wanted to be there when it came out. If it was encouraging, she knew they would do a drill stem test. This procedure was carried out by lowering a perforated pipe attached to the hollow drill stem into the hole and releasing the reservoir of gas and fluids into it. Gauges placed inside the pipe measured the reservoir pressures and flow capacity. If the results were acceptable, the drilling could stop there and Puma Resources would have a gas well.
A Risky Business Page 10
