by Ruth Owen
“I do?”
Lord help him, she thought he was giving her a compliment! His fingers tightened their grip on the wheel and a sheen of sweat broke out on his brow. He could ignore her killer legs and her centerfold body, but not her sweet, achingly innocent voice. She was either the most naive woman he’d ever met—or she was one hell of an actress. At the moment he really didn’t care which.
“Yes, you do,” he said tightly, trying to ignore the hellfire pressure building in his abdomen. “And that was another question. You owe me one.”
“Shoot.” She settled back in her seat, apparently beginning to enjoy herself.
He narrowed his eyes like a lion on the prowl and lowered his voice to a lethal, caressing softness. “Why did you kiss me like you meant it when you’re sleeping with someone else?”
Noel’s newfound confidence drained out of her like water from a sieve. He was only baiting her, playing with her like a fish on a line to gain her trust. And dammit, it had worked! A vise had tightened around her heart when he’d told her about his love for his uncle Gus. A warm glow of pride had filled her when he’d complimented her on her legs. Never totally comfortable with people, she’d suddenly found herself at ease with him. She’d shared the deepest part of herself when she’d told him about her father. She’d begun to like him, to trust him, to want to be the friend that she knew he needed … and that she needed, too.
And all the while he’d been looking at her as nothing more than another cheap conquest.
She looked away, staring into the empty night because she couldn’t look at him while she lied. “That kiss was to convince your friends that the wedding was genuine. It meant nothing. And it certainly—” She paused, taking a deep breath before she continued. “It certainly wasn’t an invitation to add me to the collection of notches on your bedpost.”
He said nothing. For the first time in her life she realized that silence could be as damning as condemning words. Belatedly, she realized she’d misjudged him, and that she’d hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. The knowledge made her a little sick. But I had to do it, don’t you see? I’m only going to be here for two weeks—barely two lousy weeks. The only thing we could possibly have is a cheap little affair. People can’t learn to care for each other in two weeks. They certainly can’t fall in love. Life isn’t a fairy tale. My mother found that out. So did I—
He pulled the Jeep to a bone-rattling stop. Yanking herself out of her turbulent thoughts, she discovered they’d arrived back at his bungalow. “I didn’t realize we were so close.”
“We weren’t. I took a shortcut home.” He grasped the roll bar and swung out of the Jeep. “You can see your own way in, can’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good,” he interrupted as he turned his back and started off down the road. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Hey, where are you going?”
He glanced back over his shoulder, flashing her a thoroughly disreputable smile. “Sweetheart, yours isn’t the only bedpost on this island.”
[Received via Local Area InterNet, direct cable link]
E-Text: They’re back! Kill the power lights!
[Several clock minutes of inactivity]
E-Text: Something’s not tracking. My passive audio’s picking up only one set of footsteps. Confirm. P-Text: Ten-four, good buddy. Ergometric weight and velocity impact indicate it’s Noel. Where’s Donovan?
E-Text: Dunno, but check out her body temperature and lethargy coefficient. Both well below normal. The doc’s in a blue mood.
P-Text: Maybe they had a fight. Statistics show that fifty-five percent of human couples fight during their first week of marriage.
E-Text: Yeah, but not during the first night. Something’s wrong, babe. Bad wrong. They keep this up and we might not even get them to stay in the mountains together—
P-Text: But that would ruin everything! You know we need one of each to solve the equation. Otherwise we paid that horrible Little Leaguer to trip up poor Dr. Harvey for nothing—
E-Text: Don’t download on me now, babe. Everything will work out. We’ll get these two interacting again. I’ll bet my credit line to the shopping channel on it.
SIX
The road that led into the heart of St. Michelle’s sacred mountains was little more than a mule path—for extremely courageous mules. Cut into the side of a sheer limestone cliff, the road clung to the gray rock face, scarred with deep, ancient gashes carved by centuries of rain and wind. One side rose straight to heaven, while the other fell sharply away into the oblivion of a lush, mist-shrouded valley. Noel kept a firm grip on the roll bar and tried not to think about the sheer drop to her right. Not that she would have been surprised if she’d suddenly taken that deadly tumble. It was barely nine o’clock, and it was already shaping up to be a thoroughly rotten day.
And if the stony expression on the face of the man sitting beside her was any indication, it was probably going to get worse.
Donovan hadn’t spoken two words together since dawn—when he’d shown up at the bungalow in rumpled clothes, looking as if he hadn’t slept a wink. Noel hadn’t slept that well herself—though her insomnia came from intellectual anticipation and stimulation, not rank lust.
He showered and dressed in record time, though the fact that he changed into jeans and a sleeveless black T-shirt that had JUST DID IT-emblazoned across the front did little to improve her temper. As they’d loaded the computer equipment into the back of the Jeep she’d reminded herself that she didn’t give a damn who Donovan slept with. Still, the tension between them had increased all morning, like a gathering storm—
“Visual,” demanded a familiar electronic voice.
Sighing, Noel glanced down at the notebook computer cradled in her lap. Males, even cybernetic ones, were not high on her list at the moment. “Einstein, I described the entire landscape to you a minute ago.”
“Four-point-six minutes ago,” he corrected. “PINK and I require data for geophysical analysis. Need visual. You promised.”
Yes, she had. When they’d packed away the fragile camera equipment for the rough ride up the slopes she’d promised to be PINK and E’s eyes for the duration of the trip. But as they drove deeper into the wild, virgin heart of the island, she realized she had no words to describe the glorious scenery around her. “There’s a limestone cliff on our left. It’s about a hundred feet high and as gray as … as oatmeal.”
Out of the corner of her eye she thought she caught a flicker of movement in Donovan’s rock-solid jaw. But when she glanced toward him his face was remote and his eyes were still firmly focused on the path ahead.
She cleared her throat and continued. “There’s a valley on our right. It’s full of a lot of different kinds of plants. They’re … very green, and—”
“Oh for God’s sake!” Donovan explained. “Green plants? Oatmeal? Where’d you learn to describe landscapes? Popular Mechanics?”
“I suppose you could do better?”
“A blind man could do better,” he shot back. “Einstein, the valley below us is called Heaven’s Canyon. It was born about a hundred and forty million years ago, when volcanic mountains reared up from the bottom of the Caribbean Sea. You can still see the marine fossils buried in the layers of limestone. It’s the heart of the island’s sacred lands, the source of the shaman’s ancient power. It’s also incredibly beautiful—even if Dr. Revere doesn’t think that’s worth mentioning.”
But I do think it’s beautiful, she protested in her heart. When she’d first glimpsed the lush valley unfolding between the somber gray mountains she’d felt as if someone had given her a priceless and undeserved gift. But she was first and foremost a scientist and she had to keep her mind on the task at hand—her research project. Besides, she wasn’t about to share her private feelings with a cretin like Sam Donovan. “I’m impressed you can remember all that,” she said bitingly, “especially considering how you spent last night.”
“What’s
the matter, sweetheart? Jealous?”
She raised her chin and glared at him with a look of haughty disdain—which was no mean feat on a Jeep that was bucking like a storm-tossed ship. “Of course not. Your private life is none of my concern. You can sleep with every woman on the island for all I care.”
“Every woman? Including my blushing bride?”
She was blushing, dammit. Donovan was the crudest, most irritating man she’d ever met—yet the thought of being married to him spun her insides around like a Mixmaster on overdrive. It wasn’t fair. Fuming, she raked her mind for an insult that would put the jerk in his place. “Sorry, but I don’t think I can spare the time. My schedule’s too full to work in the five minutes or so it would take.”
She’d hoped to insult him. Instead his smile widened to a grin so thoroughly wicked it stole her breath. White teeth gleamed against his sun-darkened skin, making her think of the Big Bad Wolf in the children’s story. The better to eat you with, my dear.
“Oh, I’d make it last at least ten minutes, sweetheart. And I guarantee you’d be screaming by the end of it.”
She paled, stunned not only by his words, but by her shattering, instinctive response to them. Somewhere inside her dynamite was exploding. “I … I never scream.”
His smile faded. “Well, that’s a damn shame,” he said, his gaze returning to the road ahead.
Damn the man! Damn him for leaving her embarrassed and angry and unable to stop herself from wondering what it would be like to have him make her scream. She set her jaw, anger making her throw her habitual honesty to the winds. “For your information, Hayward and I enjoyed—I mean, enjoy a rich and fulfilling sex life. We respect and trust one another—something a degenerate brute like you wouldn’t understand.”
“Better degenerate than repressed,” he muttered.
“I am not re—dammit, no research project is worth spending two weeks with you.”
“Yeah, well, this ain’t no picnic for me either, sweetheart.”
“For the last time I am not your …” She clenched her teeth, marshaling what was left of her self-restraint. “Take me back down. I’ll find another guide.”
“Like who? The Deveraux boys?”
“At least they don’t pretend that they care—” She stopped, barely saving herself from a confession that would make her look far more foolish than anything she’d said so far. “A new guide is my problem, not yours. Take me back down this instant. You’re fired, Mr. Donovan.”
“Suits me fine!” he shot back. “I should have known better than to hire on with a woman. I’ve never had much luck with them.”
No luck with women? What did he call last night? Her first thought was that he was making another tasteless joke at her expense. But even the heat of her anger couldn’t allow her to ignore the ring of truth in his words. Somehow, somewhere, deep down inside, he was hurting. She didn’t want to think it. She didn’t want to believe it.
She didn’t want to care.
A loud electronic whine from the laptop curtailed her troubled thoughts. “Stop Jeep!”
Startled, Noel looked down at the little computer. “Einstein? What’s the—”
“Trouble. Huge big trouble. Up ahead. Uh … rockslide.”
Donovan pulled the Jeep to a stop and stood up on the seat, scanning the road in front of them. “I don’t see any rockslide, and I sure didn’t hear any. The road’s clear to the corner.”
“Past corner,” Einstein offered quickly. “Other side. Audio sensors picked up sound. Better check it out.”
Donovan ran his hand over his face and peered up at the cliff wall. “Rockslides in these volcanic mountains are serious—and loud. Are you sure you heard something?”
“Of course he’s sure. Einstein’s audio radio-band sensors are the most technically sophisticated on the planet. Besides, he wouldn’t lie.” Laying E’s laptop aside, she started to get out of the Jeep. “I’ll check it—”
A restraining hand gripped her wrist, pulling her back into her seat. “I’ll check it out. Technically I’m still on your payroll, and as long as I am, I take the risks.” He reached around and dug an army-issue walkie-talkie from the baggage. “This is tuned to the CB radio on the dashboard. If I get into trouble you hightail it down this mountain as fast as you can. Rockslides have a nasty way of spreading.”
She watched him go, riveted by his tall, striding figure until he turned the corner and disappeared from her sight. Even then she kept staring at the curve in the road. Dread settled on her shoulders like cold, wet leaves. What if there was another rockslide? What if he was injured, or even—
“Worried about him?” asked Einstein.
Noel stiffened. “Not in the least.”
E’s internal processors whirred. “Then why is your breathing escalating and your heart rate incre—”
“All right, I’m worried,” she conceded. “I mean, he is a human being. Barely. I certainly don’t want to see him come to any harm.”
The processors whirred again. “Like him, don’t ya?”
Noel stared at the laptop in openmouthed shock. “Have you blown a microchip? I think he’s the lowest form of life on the food chain. He’s an arrogant, self-centered, macho jerk who wouldn’t apologize to save his—”
“So if he apologized you’d like him?” E queried.
“No. Well, I might consider—” She stopped, realizing what she was saying. Only an idiot would give a scoundrel like Donovan a second chance. What was she thinking! “No, I wouldn’t. Anyway, it doesn’t matter because he’s not going to apologize. Men like him never do.”
“But if he …” E paused, his internal CPU processing at light speed. “Yeah, PINK, that’s what I think, too.”
“PINK?” Noel twisted around toward the equipment packed into the back of the Jeep. Her gaze searched out the other laptop secured with bungee cords to the top of the technological heap. PINK’s wireless radio-comm light was flashing, indicating that she was talking with Einstein over the WAN communication network. “What do you mean ‘she thinks, too’?”
Einstein didn’t answer. He didn’t have time. At that moment the ancient CB radio on the dashboard crackled to snapping, sputtering life. Donovan! “Ohmygod, he’s hurt! I’ve got to go help—”
“Listen to message first,” E suggested logically.
He was right, of course. Panic wouldn’t help anyone. She needed to listen to find out what kind of trouble Sam was in—and how serious it was. Swallowing her fear, she bent closer to the radio, adjusting the frequency to try to filter out the unusually heavy static. “Dammit, Donovan, if you get yourself killed I’ll never forgive you.”
Her shaking fingers finally found the signal. Donovan’s voice threaded in and out through the static, though some of the words were lost, or so distorted that they hardly sounded like him at all. Still, she was able to pick up the gist of his message—and what she heard surprised her more than anything she’d experienced on this very surprising island.
Sam Donovan was actually apologizing!
Donovan stood at the bottom of the limestone cliff with his hand propped on his hip, scanning the sun-drenched heights.
“So much for advanced technology,” he muttered as he shaded his eyes and searched the wide wall for any minuscule trace of a recent disturbance. “This place hasn’t seen any action in years.”
He breathed a sigh of genuine relief that the computer had been wrong. Avalanches—even minor ones—could be deadly on these high, rough, isolated mountain roads. He didn’t like to think what would have happened to his Jeep if one had suddenly struck. Or what would have happened to all the fragile computer equipment. Or to her.
Like I care, he thought as he kicked a stray pebble to kingdom come. Anyway, it’d take more than a rockslide to bust that stiff spine of hers. He was usually a pretty levelheaded guy, but she’d been riding him all morning, spoiling for a fight. Well, she’d gotten her fight. And he was out of a job.
Of course, she might
reconsider if he admitted he’d spent last night on Jean’s lumpy, too-short living-room sofa, after receiving a scathing lecture about the profound stupidity of leaving his bride alone on her wedding night.
“I’d rather swallow ground glass than tell her a blessed thing,” he grumbled as he rubbed the stiff, strained muscles at the back of his neck. So what if she’d fired him? It was probably the best thing that could have happened. She’d been nothing but trouble from the beginning, with her pious ways, her stuffed-shirt personality, her wide eyes, her innocent blush, her mouth that could take a man to heaven in a heartbeat.…
“Hell,” he breathed as he stared at the bleak, rocky outcropping that separated her from his sight. It might as well have been the distance from here to the moon. “Hell and damna—”
His walkie-talkie buzzed.
What does she want now? Frowning, he lifted the unit to his lips. “Cool it, will you? I’ll be back in a min—”
“Sam?”
He froze. Her voice sounded tinny, uncertain. And she’d never used his first name before, not even when she was blind drunk. Something was wrong.
He looked up at the cliff, searching the harsh expanse for some sign of movement. Nothing. But limestone was tricky stuff. It could look solid enough to last until doomsday, even when its base was worn away by subterranean rivers and wind erosion. Once he’d seen an entire mountainside crumble into dust. It was rare, but it happened. It could be happening now, right under his feet. Or hers.
He started toward the outcropping, punching down the send button on his communicator. “Noel, you get out of there. Don’t think about the equipment, or me, or anything. Just get safe. You hear me? Just get—”
“Sam, I’m sorry we fought. It was all my fault.”
Donovan came to a dead stop. What the …? He lifted the walkie-talkie and cautiously punched the send button. “What did you say?”
