“They don’t send girls to dancing school anymore?”
“Not in my family.”
Jake’s arm hooked around her waist like an iron belt, and she looked up to meet the flat glitter of his blue eyes.
“Just follow my lead,” he said. “And relax.”
But Lilah couldn’t relax. Her heart was thudding, and she moved stiffly, stumbling as he guided her through the steps.
Jake’s hand slid upward, along her back, the heat of his thick fingers burning through the fabric of her dress. She tried not to shudder as she felt his hand moving subtly down again in a slight caress.
“I have an idea that may interest you,” he said smoothly, dropping his voice so that only she could hear. “I’m in a position to help you with your problem.”
“Oh?”
“Ross thinks he’s going to have a park, but he’s wrong. The government plans to put an industrial complex on that land once they have it. I’ll be working with the developers who are going to build the factory.”
His breath was hot on her cheek. “I could arrange to leave the canyon area untouched for as long as you want to excavate there.”
Lilah pulled back to stare at him, genuinely stunned. Her entire excavation, handed back to her on a silver platter? Jake’s offer rang with the confidence of a man who knew what was going on behind the scenes. Could he be right? Could Ross be fighting a losing battle?
And what would it mean to her if he was? If Jake had already won, then her excavation was doomed unless she quickly reassessed her priorities. It would be foolish to cast her lot with Ross if an alliance with Jake Wyatt would save her site. After all, it was her career on the line.
But there was something else. Only a week ago, she wouldn’t have cared a whit about Ross and his plans, and the idea of aligning herself with his opponents wouldn’t have fazed her at all. But now, strangely, she did care.
She didn’t want to see a factory complex spread over the wild and beautiful savanna, and she didn’t want to be Jake Wyatt’s friend at the price of being Ross’s enemy.
Why did she care about what happened to Ross Bradford and his wildlife reserve, damn it?
Jake was silent as they danced, probably pleased that his suggestion had had such an impact.
“You’re right, Mr. Wyatt.” Lilah said finally. “That is a very interesting idea. I’d like to discuss it with you later.”
“Of course. Enough business talk. Why don’t we—”
“May I cut in?”
The voice behind her was chilly but familiar, and Lilah’s heart jumped as she turned to see Ross standing there, facing Jake with steel in his eyes.
Chapter 7
“Well, hello there, Ross,” Jake Wyatt said, stepping back to look him over. His voice was mild, but his smile did not reach his eyes. “I was wondering when we’d see you. You’ve been neglecting your lovely escort. Not a smart move, son, though I do enjoy picking up what you let slip through your fingers.”
Ross’s jaw tightened, and Lilah nearly stepped out of the way. It didn’t take a genius to read the double meaning in that remark.
“Miss Evans,” Jake said, turning to Lilah, “I’ll plan to see you again.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, then turned his back on Ross and disappeared into the crowd.
The hot imprint of Jake’s lips burned on Lilah’s hand as she stepped awkwardly into Ross’s arms, her breath catching as they began to move and she felt the contours of his lean body against her.
“Wyatt liked you,” Ross said, an edge to his voice.
“That was the idea, wasn’t it?”
It was hard to think with him so close. His cologne was warm and spicy, and Lilah had the sudden desire to press herself against him, to reach up and brush her lips against the hollow at the base of his throat.
She took an uneven breath. “Do you want to hear what happened?”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“Okay,” Lilah said. “You know, he’s not what I expected, from your description. I thought he’d be a little blustering guy with a Napoleon complex. But he seems...predatory. I can see why you’re wary of him.”
“Lilah,” Ross said tightly, “right now, I don’t want to hear about damned Jake Wyatt.”
She was confused by the sudden tension in him. He’d brought her here to deal with Jake, but now he seemed angry. There was no way he could have overheard the other man’s murmured offer, so what was bothering him?
“What made you cut in so abruptly?” she asked.
“I thought it was time.”
“Did you happen to notice that Jake was running his hands all over my back?”
“I noticed.”
“Hmm. I’m surprised you didn’t see that as a useful step toward my squeezing information out of him.”
Ross stopped. “For God’s sake, do you think I want you to take it that far? I never asked you to seduce him. What the hell kind of person do you think I am?”
“Ruthless?”
“But not unprincipled,” he said roughly. “I didn’t like seeing Wyatt with his hands all over you, and I assumed that you weren’t enjoying it either.”
“This is a relief,” Lilah murmured.
He frowned. “What is?”
“That I’m not just some pawn you’re using to win a high-stakes game. I can handle Jake Wyatt, but it’s good to know that you care about...limits.”
“You even questioned that?”
“I wondered. But you’re not as ruthless as you make yourself out to be, Ross. Thank you for coming over to save me.”
“You’re welcome.”
His eyes caught and held hers, and her heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his gaze. Did she lean forward, or did his arm tighten around her? Lilah was suddenly locked firmly against the lean strength of Ross’s body, feeling weak as the heat of him surrounded her. The noise and activity of the room faded away, and Lilah caught her breath, her lips parting as she stared up at him.
She wanted Ross Bradford. God, how she wanted him. It was reckless and crazy, but in the heat of the moment, she didn’t care. If he had kissed her then, she would have melted into his arms and forgotten about everything else.
Something in her eyes must have given her away. There was a sudden awareness in Ross’s own gaze, along with a spark of some indefinable emotion. He took a deep breath, and abruptly let her go.
“Let’s take a break.”
Lilah nodded, dazed. “Okay.”
At that moment, the previously grumbling thunder gave a wholehearted crash, and a spattering of fat raindrops began to dot the terrace stones.
Ross took Lilah’s arm and led her back into the brightly lit embassy just as the skies opened up and let loose great watery sheets of rain. Stragglers from the lawn rushed inside, and waiters hurriedly began to close the tall windows.
“This looks nasty,” Ross said. “We should head back.”
“Can’t we wait it out?” Lilah asked. The prospect of returning to her dark, lonely tent wasn’t appealing.
“We could, but if a lot of rain comes down, the roads inside the ranch are going to get bad, fast. I’ve spent too many nights digging cars out of the mud to want to risk getting stuck again.”
“Okay,” Lilah said halfheartedly as another clap of thunder shook the building. Other guests were retrieving their coats, and it looked as if the party was breaking up. “Let’s go.”
By the fourth time Lilah felt the Land Rover slide in the new mud covering the ranch road, she realized that Ross had been right. Even with his expert handling of the car, they had come close to getting bogged down several times since they turned off the paved highway from Nairobi.
“How can so much mud appear so fast?” she asked, as the car skimmed sideways. It was as slick as ice under the tires.
“Amazing, isn’t it? This savanna soil doesn’t drain well. It’s especially bad now, at the end of the rainy season. The ground is already saturated, so wa
ter piles up on top and makes a swamp.”
The back of the car fishtailed as Ross rounded a bend in the road. He steered the front into control, and Lilah saw through the curtain of rain on the windshield that they were approaching the turnoff to the half-mile track leading down to the field camp. The back wheels of the car began to bog down, churning slightly, and the car slowed.
“Hold on,” Ross said, and veered off the road to take the car onto the grass, where the rough plants provided enough traction for the tires to grip.
“I hate having to do that,” he said. “It tears up the land, but this track is getting bad. I’m not going to be able to get you down there tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your friends are camped on one of the lowest areas of the ranch, and are probably ankle deep in mud and water right now. Even if I could get the car down there without getting stuck, there’s no way I’d get it up the hill again. There’s a reason why the ranch house is built on high ground.”
“So we’re going to the house?” Lilah kept her voice carefully neutral, but she felt a warm, secret pleasure that she wouldn’t have to leave Ross’s company yet. How on earth had she gone from wanting to avoid him to this new longing to be near him?
“We’re going to the house,” Ross confirmed. “Unless you’d rather we both spent the night down in your camp getting slowly submerged in cold muddy water and praying that your tent doesn’t leak.”
By the time they reached the ranch house, the rain was coming down so hard that it looked like a solid curtain of water between the front door and the overhang where Ross parked the Land Rover. A simultaneous burst of thunder and lightning shook the sky as Lilah stepped out of the car. The storm was right overhead.
“Wait here,” Ross said. “I’ll get an umbrella from the house and come back for you—”
“That’s okay,” Lilah said. “Let’s just run for it. I won’t melt.”
She bent down to slip off her pumps, and tossed them back into the car, reminding herself to pick them up in the morning. Getting muddy feet was better than ruining her only pair of good shoes.
“Are you sure?” Ross asked.
Lilah nodded, and gave him the thumbs-up sign. “Let’s go.”
He grabbed her hand, and pulled her out into what felt like one of the smaller Niagara falls. She sputtered, half running, half stumbling after him, unable to see anything at all, and clinging to his hand like a drowning person.
All at once they were in the living room, dripping into a rapidly spreading puddle on the floor, with the door slammed firmly behind them and the noise of the rain reduced to a muffled drumming on the roof.
“Good grief,” Lilah gasped, leaning against the door, feeling water streaming down from her wet hair. “They don’t make storms like that where I come from.”
“Welcome to the tropics.”
“Thanks a lot.” She looked up at Ross and started to laugh. “Boy, are you wet. You look like you went swimming in your suit.”
He grinned. “I think I did. And you’re not much better, Professor. Is that a puddle I see under you?”
“Yes. Oh, dear. I’m ruining your carpet.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll dry. I’ll get you a towel and some clean clothes, and you can have a hot bath.”
“Sounds great,” Lilah said, starting to shiver.
She followed him to the large master bathroom, where he turned on the taps over the old-fashioned clawfoot tub. Lilah sat on the porcelain edge, holding one chilly hand under the stream of water, and hugging herself with the other arm. Ross left and returned a moment later, carrying two large towels and a pile of clothing.
“Here,” he said, setting them on a chair. “You look nice in my shirts, but I thought my pants might be a little large, so I brought you a kikoy.”
Lilah recognized the brightly woven cloth wrap. It was fringed on the edges, and worn like a sarong by the Swahili tribesmen who lived near the coast. Folded on top of it was another of Ross’s soft linen shirts.
“Thanks. I still have to return that first shirt you lent me. If it keeps up like this, it won’t be long before I have all of your clothes.”
“Then I’ll have to come naked down to your camp to get them back.”
“Denise would love that.” Lilah said. She knew better than to let herself imagine Ross naked, but the image was persistent, and she could feel a blush beginning. She stopped it by fiercely fixing her attention on the bar of soap next to the tub. It was white. And square. The tub was getting full, so she reached over to turn off the taps.
“Denise?”
“My friend. The artist. She thinks you’re...ah...very attractive.”
Ross just smiled enigmatically, but his eyes were on her with an unnerving intensity.
“This is her dress,” Lilah added, flustered.
“I like it on you,” Ross said, his gaze sweeping over her body, making her breath catch in her throat.
Her blush rose up again. “Thank you.”
There was a brief silence. “Your water is getting cold,” he said, making no move to go.
Lilah swallowed hard, and nodded.
“Better get in,” he said softly.
Their gazes met, and Ross raised his eyebrows at her as he turned to go. “I’ll make you some tea,” he said over his shoulder. “Come find me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Lilah exhaled hard. For a minute, she had almost thought that he wasn’t going to leave, that he would—never mind. This growing ache she felt to be touched by him was making her imagination run wild, and she was going to make a real fool out of herself if she wasn’t careful.
She peeled off Denise’s dress, draped it carefully over the back of the chair, and slipped into the warm water.
She stayed in until the water cooled and her fingers wrinkled, and when she finally padded barefoot into the kitchen, Ross was at the stove, warming his hands over the teakettle steam.
He had showered and changed, and was wearing a pair of faded chinos and a dark green T-shirt that fit tightly over his broad shoulders. His dark hair was damp and tousled on the back of his neck, and Lilah wanted to reach out and twine her fingers into it. Instead, she leaned against the door frame and watched him.
It was only a moment before he noticed her. “Feeling better, Professor?”
“Much.”
“Good.” He poured a mug of tea and handed it to her. “If you’re hungry, there’s leftover ugali in the fridge.”
“Leftover what?”
“Ugali. It’s a staple around here—cornmeal paste, cooked thick. Mama Ruth has been stuffing me with it for as long as I can remember, and nothing’s changed since I came back. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, so I spice it up with hot sauce and eat enough to make her happy.”
“That’s nice.”
“Not really. I just know better than to get into a battle of wills with Mama Ruth over dinner. She’s tough.”
“Sounds like she mothered you well.”
“Lucky for me. Between her family and Otieno’s, I always had someone looking after me.”
“Not your father?”
“No. The ranch was his first priority.”
Ross’s face suddenly seemed cooler in the dim kitchen light, and the shadows playing there gave him a withdrawn, closed look. He obviously didn’t want to talk about his family, but Lilah was curious to hear what he would tell her.
“What about your mother?”
“Claire wasn’t cut out for motherhood,” Ross said. “My father was the one who wanted an heir.”
“As opposed to a son?”
He acknowledged her comment with a short. nod. “That’s about right.”
“Did they divorce?”
“No. Claire was killed in a car wreck when I was young, so it’s just as well she never spent much time being a parent. You can’t lose something you never had in the first place.”
His voice was e
xpressionless, as if he were describing someone else’s life.
“When did that happen?” Lilah asked quietly.
“A long time ago. I was fourteen.”
He saw the look on her face, and his mouth took on a cynical twist. “That day she was on her way to meet whoever she was sleeping with at the time.”
Lilah would have been shocked at how callous he sounded, except for the sudden tension in his shoulders and the fact that his voice seemed intentionally flat.
“Fourteen is still just a kid,” she said. “You must have missed her terribly.”
“I’d been in boarding school for years.”
“Wouldn’t that make it harder?”
“No, easier. I was building my own life by then.”
“That’s a lot to ask of a fourteen-year-old.”
His mouth curved again, bitterly. “It wasn’t asked of me. It was required.”
“Were you really such a tough kid?”
He was silent for a long moment, then said finally, “Yes.”
Lilah was beginning to get a clearer picture of the reasons for the invisible wall Ross seemed to carry around himself. A past like that would convince anyone to keep the world at a distance. Feeling at all vulnerable would be unbearable to this man.
“I’m sorry, Ross,” she said softly.
“Don’t be. My family life wasn’t ideal, but I did all right. I don’t use it as a ploy for sympathy.”
“I guessed that, since you don’t seem to enjoy talking about it. I think you deserve more respect than sympathy, for overcoming it all.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Now drink your tea.”
Lilah sipped dutifully, but she was mulling over what she had just heard. There was much, much more to Ross Bradford under the strong and polished outer layer that he presented to the world. She was glad to know it. It made him real.
“Your father never remarried?” she asked casually.
“You were right,” Ross said. “I don’t enjoy talking about this.”
“Do you ever talk about it?”
“No. It has nothing to do with who I am now. And I’ve learned that giving out personal information can be dangerous. People have their own reasons for wanting to find your vulnerable spots.”
A Hard-Hearted Man Page 8
