“I think roots have advantages,” she said carefully. “For flowers or people. They mean connection and security. Why would anyone choose to be cut off?”
“Sometimes the choice is made for us.” Ross said. “As I see it, the past is good for only one thing. Reminding us not to make old mistakes again.”
“But there’s so much more to it,” Lilah protested. “Look out there, at the plains. Everything you see is just the latest step in the whole line of history. The past, the future...it’s right in front of us!”
She flung out her arm dramatically, then winced as the motion split open the fence-wire cut on her chest.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I was just saying that—”
“It looks like something to me.”
He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the pool of light spilling out from the living room. His fingers were gentle but firm as he pulled aside the torn edge of her shirt to expose the wound.
“Really, it’s no big deal,” she said weakly. There was a strange heat burning through the shoulder where he held her, and the feel of his rough fingertips exploring her bare skin made her tremble.
“I wouldn’t say so. That’s a nasty cut. Doesn’t it hurt?”
Lilah looked up and met his gaze, feeling a shiver of awareness move through her at the contact. “Not...at the moment.”
“No?” His eyes were the color of glacial ice, but now, perhaps, not so cold. Lilah suddenly saw a flicker of amusement there, and it was enough to snap her back to herself.
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” she said, pulling back, but Ross held onto her shoulder and steered her firmly toward the house.
“Sit down.” he said. “I’ll get what you need.”
“Really, I don’t—”
But he had gone. Lilah sighed and folded her arms. She didn’t have to wait long. Ross was back in a minute, carrying a wet cloth, gauze and an iodine bottle.
“You’re not sitting,” he said mildly.
“Right,” Lilah said. “You see, this isn’t necessary. It’s only a scratch, and it’ll be fine. I appreciate your good intentions, but—”
“Are you this argumentative with everyone?”
“No.”
“Then pretend I’m someone else, and sit down,” Ross said. “I don’t like to have injured women bleeding in my living room.”
He stepped toward her, and Lilah found her knees buckling. Quickly she sat on the edge of the couch. “Fine,” she muttered. “Maybe I will sit.”
“Looks like you could use some fence-climbing practice,” Ross remarked, then added dryly, “Don’t look so surprised. All the rust on you makes it rather obvious that you didn’t come in through the gate. Have you had a tetanus shot?”
“Probably. Before I left, the university clinic gave me more shots than I could count, so I...”
Lilah’s voice caught in her throat. Ross had moved to stand before her, so close that the heat of his body touched her like a caress. The male scent of him surrounded her, druglike and dizzying, and while she was still reeling, he leaned over, holding her good shoulder, and deftly unfastened the top three buttons of her shirt.
Ross’s chest was in front of her at eye level, wide and firm under the white linen, and Lilah had the sudden aching desire to run her palms over it, feeling the warmth and strength of him under her fingers.
What was happening here? She swallowed hard, wondering if she should sit on her hands, just to be safe.
“Um...Ross?”
Her shirt fell open to the shadowed cleft between her breasts, and she glanced down at it and back up at him as he slid it gently away from her injured shoulder.
She cleared her throat. “Ross.”
“Yes?”
He gazed down at her, waiting, and Lilah could suddenly feel her heart thudding in her chest. She had no idea of what to say next. A spell was slowly and alarmingly tightening around her, and she only knew that she had to break it.
She took a deep breath. “You said you were fighting some development pressure?”
Ross’s mouth curved up slightly. “You have a one-track mind, Professor,” he said.
Little did he know. “I’m curious,” she said.
Her shirt slipped down her arm to bare the lacy edge of her bra, exposing the full length of the scratch. It was an angry red against the pale skin of her chest, and had started to bleed again, but Lilah barely felt it. She was aware only of the confident motion of Ross’s hand as he slid his fingers under her bra strap, easing it away from the cut and off her shoulder.
“Pressure is a gentle word for what’s turning into a small war,” he said. “But that’s not a story I want to go into tonight. Lean forward.”
Lilah closed her eyes as he reached toward her with the wet cloth and began to sponge out her cut. A trickle of warm water ran down between her breasts, and she shivered, feeling flushed and dizzier than three sips of wine could explain.
She took a breath and opened her eyes to find Ross watching her with a very slight, almost thoughtful frown. His gray gaze caught and held hers for a moment, then broke away to focus down on her wound.
“Next step,” he said briskly, uncapping the iodine bottle. “This might hurt a little.”
He wasn’t kidding. The cut was deeper than she had realized, and the iodine began to sting fiercely.
“Ow!” she said, instinctively trying to pull back.
Ross had her firmly by the shoulder. “Hold still. I’m almost done.... There.”
He pressed on a strip of gauze, secured it with tape and stepped back to survey her. “You don’t look very happy, Professor. Aren’t you glad to be saved from all those tropical germs?”
Lilah stood up, clumsily pulling her ripped shirt back over her newly bandaged shoulder. “Well,” she said, “you were definitely very thorough. No germ could possibly survive that tidal, wave of iodine. Thanks, I think.”
Ross smiled sardonically. “Better to be safe. In the future, be more careful when you climb other people’s fences.”
“Corporal punishment with iodine. Is this some kind of vigilante justice?”
He shrugged. “It’ll have to do. I’ve had a long day, and I don’t feel up to pressing charges.”
“Then you’re not going to make me rot in prison.”
“Not this time,” he said. “You’re off the hook.”
“Thank you. Will you take me back to the gate now?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” he repeated, looking pointedly at her. “I wonder if you won’t go searching for the site once you think you’ve gotten rid of me.”
“Why would I do that? You’ve flat-out refused to let me excavate. I just want to go back to my hotel!”
He shook his head. “Sorry. You’re staying here tonight.”
“What?” Lilah exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous! You don’t have to baby-sit me until morning just to make sure I don’t go to the canyon.”
He walked over to the hearth and picked up the iron poker, using it to spread the embers of the dying fire. “Maybe not, but even the suspicion that you might be turning yourself into lion bait again is enough to ruin my sleep. I’d rather not worry about it. You can sleep in the guest room and leave in the morning.”
She stared at his back, her face getting hot as she imagined how this twist might appear to her colleagues. If they heard that she spent the night here, after Ross Bradford had denied her access to the site...well, it certainly would look as if she had used more than an appeal to his kindness to try to change his mind.
“I can’t stay here,” she said.
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because it’s not proper,” she said stiffly.
Ross looked amused by her prudish choice of words. “Fence-climbing, trespassing and unauthorized midnight excavation work are proper?”
Her blush deepened. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes,”
he said. “I do. But you don’t have a choice about this. What time do you need to be awake?”
Lilah gritted her teeth. “Six. I have to go to the airport to meet my group. They left the States before I could reach them.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to ignore the knots of anxiety forming in her stomach. It wasn’t pleasant to think about what the next day held in store. “I’ll try to explain what happened to our project.”
“And then?”
She lifted her chin and looked fully at him. “Then I’ll go to the Park Bureau and do everything I can to talk them into giving me a federal research permit.”
“Do you ever give up?”
“No, I don’t. Even if I end up on a plane headed back over the Atlantic, I’m going to figure out a way to make this damned excavation work.”
“Why, Lilah?”
It was the first time he had used her name, and the sound of his deep voice shaping the word sent a sudden quiver up her back.
“Because I want to,” she said fiercely. “That site is important, Ross, and it’s mine. I want it just like you want your wildlife reserve, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to get it.”
There was an odd look in Ross’s gray eyes as he watched her, but he didn’t press any further, and Lilah was glad. As determined as she tried to sound, a large part of her felt exhausted and defeated, and she had to draw on her deepest core of strength to even think about the upcoming day.
“Your room is the second door down the hall,” he said finally. “Let me know if you need anything. And don’t wander away from the house. There are askaris, armed guards, who patrol here. I wouldn’t want one of them to mistake you for a trespasser.”
“Me?” Lilah said with a straight face. “How ridiculous.”
“Right,” Ross said dryly. “Good night.”
He left the room, and Lilah heard the low creak of his footsteps moving down the wood-floored hallway. She exhaled hard, and reached up to rub her eyes. The room suddenly seemed hot and stuffy, and on an impulse, she walked over and opened one of the terrace doors.
The air outside was cool, and the clouds she had seen in the distance were closer now, sharp and dark against the full moon, drifting silently with a beauty that made her ache.
She clenched the railing as her throat tightened. Kenya was ancient, beautiful and lost to her. How could everything have gone wrong so quickly, and so irrevocably? She should have protected herself, should have planned for a disaster like this. And now it was too late.
A rustling sound startled her out of her thoughts, and she glanced around anxiously. Everything was gray and fuzzy in the moonlight, but she was suddenly sure that she had seen the shape of a man only yards away, moving stealthily through the patch of seven-foot aloe plants that bordered the house.
She stared out into the darkness. There he was again, and then he was gone. Was it the guard, coming up to order her back inside? Lilah moved cautiously away from the railing. It should make her feel safe, knowing that he was out there to protect the house, but there was something creepy about the way he moved, slinking through the shadows like that.
She stepped back toward the doors and the security of the house, then heard the rustle again, now closer. Did this askari guard know that she was a guest? The way the man was lurking in the bushes unnerved her.
“Hello!” she said with forced cheer in her voice.
There was absolute silence from the dark thicket of plants.
Imagining a rifle being trained on her for the second time that night, she said loudly, “I was getting some air, but I’m going to bed now. Good night!”
A chill, black silence. Nothing stirred.
To Lilah, it seemed menacing. Her heart suddenly thudding, she scurried back through the door, shoved it closed behind her, and locked it.
The warm lights of the living room bathed her in a reassuring glow, and the curtains on the doors fell back into place, covering the glass panes and blocking out the darkness.
She took a deep breath and stepped back, feeling the flood of panic recede, leaving only embarrassment. What on earth had gotten into her? The guard must have thought she was crazy. Her imagination was suffering from jet lag, and it was definitely time for bed. The early hours of the morning were ticking by, and if the day ahead turned out as expected, she was going to need the help of a good night’s sleep to face it.
Chapter 4
The next morning, Ross was sorting through a stack of papers when he heard the sound of a car chugging toward the house. Surprised, he checked his watch. He’d sent a car and driver to the airport at eight, but hadn’t expected them back yet. The hassle of getting foreign visitors through customs usually took at least an hour, and a group loaded down with archaeological excavation equipment should have been tied up until noon.
But one glance out the window assured him that it was the ranch Land Rover approaching, packed with people and luggage. The archaeologists were here, and Lilah Evans, as far as he knew, was still asleep.
Ross himself had been up by six, and the red-eyed reflection greeting him in his shaving mirror had been almost enough to send him back to bed. He had lain awake for a long time last night, frowning at the ceiling, thinking over his encounter with the prickly but interesting Dr. Evans.
What was it about her that caught his attention? She was attractive enough, in a clean and distracted way, but that wasn’t it. He had known many beautiful women, and a merely well-proportioned face didn’t do much for him. No, it was the vitality in Lilah’s face that made it fascinating. She lived and breathed as though she meant every bit of it, and that raw energy intrigued him.
By the time he said good-night to her, a plan had begun to shape itself in his mind, but it wasn’t until the clock hands crept to three that he had finally come to a decision. It would be possible, under one condition, to delay the sale of the ranch. But meeting that condition was going to require Lilah’s help, and Ross had his doubts about whether she would agree to cooperate once she heard the entire story.
The guest room door was still closed, and Ross couldn’t hear a sound inside, which didn’t surprise him. He had seen exhaustion falling over Lilah like a fog last night, and he had intended to let her sleep until at least eleven. But now that wasn’t possible. Mama Ruth, the housekeeper, could stall the new arrivals with a pot of Kenyan coffee, but hopefully Lilah wasn’t the kind of woman who needed an hour to pull herself together.
He raised his hand and knocked sharply. Inside, there was a soft sound of blankets moving, then nothing. He knocked again.
“Come in?”
Lilah’s voice was hazy with sleep, and Ross paused, suddenly wondering if he should have asked Mama Ruth to awaken her.
Too late now. He squared his shoulders and opened the door. “Morning, Dr. Evans,” he said briskly. “Rise and shine.”
Sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, washing the room in clean brightness. He glanced around, uncomfortably aware of the clothes draped over the armchair, and of Lilah, sitting up in the middle of the rumpled bed, clutching the sheets to her bare shoulders and blinking at him as fuzzily as a newborn kitten.
“Ross,” she said unsteadily, and cleared her throat. “What time is it?”
Her honey-colored hair caught the light as it tumbled down to her shoulders in sleepy disarray, and her skin was pale and smooth against the white sheets. There were dark smudges under her eyes, and Ross felt himself tensing as he looked at her.
He didn’t want this image of Lilah in his mind, rumpled and vulnerable, looking every bit the way she would if she had just awakened beside him after a passionate night of—
Damn it! Enough. He fixed his gaze on a framed print of wildflowers hanging on the far wall. “It’s ten,” he said.
“Ten?” Her voice lost all traces of sleepiness. “Oh my God, I was supposed to be at the airport two hours ago to meet the flight!”
She swung her l
egs over the edge of the bed, holding the covers against her in a death grip. “Ross, excuse me, I have to get dressed, and then I need to...” She paused as he held up one hand. “What? Are they late?”
“They’re here.”
Lilah goggled at him. “Where?”
“Pulling into the driveway as we speak.”
A flash of horror crossed her face, and she reached up to touch her hair, winced and dropped her hand. “Now? What are they doing here?” She stared at him. “You sent a car to pick them up?”
He nodded. “I thought you could use the sleep.”
“Oh.” She looked as stunned as if he’d suddenly done a back flip, and then her face softened into a hesitant smile. “That was nice. Thank you.”
The subtle scent of feminine skin was in the air, mingling with the sunshine, drifting over him like a drug. It stirred up an ache that he didn’t want to acknowledge, and he steeled himself against it.
“Don’t thank me. It was the least I could do.” The cool edge to his voice brought a wariness back into Lilah’s eyes, just as he had intended.
He took a deep breath. “I’ll meet you in the living room,” he said, and walked out, his hands jammed into his pockets to hide the fact that they were clenched into fists.
What in God’s name was happening to him? Had he been alone so long that the sight of one woman tangled in her bedsheets could affect him like this? That kind of emotional vertigo was exactly what he didn’t want or need, and he was damn well going to make sure that it went no further. if he decided that he wanted Lilah Evans in his bed, he’d seduce her and be done with it. Period.
“Ross.”
A deep voice cut into his thoughts, and he looked up to see Otieno Kasu, the ranch manager, beckoning to him from the open kitchen door.
The kitchen was warm and bright, with the smoky smell of coffee lingering in the air. There was a board of half-chopped carrots on the wooden table, but no sign of Mama Ruth.
A Hard-Hearted Man Page 4
