MM01 - Valley of Fire (7 page)

There was one last thing she could try. Cutting a small bite of tough steak, she set out to tame Rick McGill with boredom.

Her first ploy was not to initiate any conversation. She sat back in her chair and chewed as if her life depended on it.

Rick hadn't caught on yet.

“What did you do this afternoon?”

No reply. She merely shrugged her shoulders and attacked her soggy potatoes.

“Clyde and I spent the afternoon trying to repair his tractor.” He paused, waiting. She said nothing. “He told me several Indian legends.”

She couldn't treat him to complete silence. He'd think she was pouting, and she never pouted.

“That's nice,” she said.

“Velma came out three times to see about us.”

“That's nice.”

“She brought cold lemonade.”

“That's nice.”

Suddenly Rick's chair banged to the floor. He strode around the table and lifted her from her chair.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking to see if you're still in there somewhere.”

He turned her around and pulled her so close, her breath swooshed out. Taking one of her arms, he draped it around his shoulders.

“Now, Mrs. Lucky O'Grady, let's see how nice you think this is.”

Without further ado, his mouth came down on hers.

 “Mmft mmt.” She struggled and protested for all of two seconds, and then the adventuress in her gave up to the scoundrel in him. She wrapped her other arm around his neck and pulled his head closer.

 “Mmmmm.” She couldn't have kept that sound of satisfaction from escaping her lips if she'd wanted to. But she didn't want to.

Acting the married woman was a totally ineffective defense against Rick McGill. She'd have to think of something else. But not now. Now she was going to enjoy this kiss.

She pressed so close, she could feel the heavy thudding of his heart. His lips were expert, but so were hers. Her ex-husband Marcus had taught her how to kiss, and she'd thought he was the world's all-time best kisser. Until now. Until Rick.

She opened herself to him, heart and soul. What they were doing suddenly stopped being technique and became magic. She couldn't explain what was happening. She couldn't describe it. She could only feel.

She soared again and gave herself up to the magic.

Rick was teaching her a lesson. That's what he kept telling himself. He was also having a mild flirtation. He kept telling himself that. too. But then why was his heart beating so fast, it felt as if it would fly out of his chest, and why was his blood pounding in his ears?

He moved his hands over her torso. It was bare beneath the miniscule halter top. Other women just had soft skin. Why did hers feel like silk? Why couldn't he get enough of touching her?

When she pressed closer and moaned, his blood all left his brain. The need exploded in him with such force that he growled deep in his throat. But it was more than need, more than desire. It was something so indescribably beautiful that he couldn't begin to fathom it. He could only feel.

Bending her slightly backward, he delved into her mouth with his tongue. It was heaven. It was like flying through the skies at night with the stars so close, he could feel their heat on his face.

He moved his hands over her. The harem pants were obligingly slit in all the right places. Her legs were trim and tight and silken. By George, every inch of her skin was silk. He was dangerously close to being enchanted.

One last taste, one last dip into that heavenly mouth, one last touch—that's all he would allow himself. His mouth slanted over hers, and her response sent jolts of lightning through him. Maybe two, he decided. No more than three.

At last he knew there was no hope for him except to stop. He broke off the kiss and stared down at her long enough to give him time to catch his breath.

“Now, let's hear you say 'that's nice.' “ He hadn't known voices really got gruff with passion until he heard his own. He was barely on the edge of control. He hoped she didn't notice.

Martha Ann took a shaky breath. “That's nice, but your technique could use some polishing.”

“Perhaps we should try again.”

“Sorry. I'm taken.” She sat hastily back down in her chair. “You'll just have to find some sweet unattached young woman to teach you the finer points of kissing.”

“What a pity. You kiss with such enthusiasm.”

“I wasn't kissing.”

“You weren't?” He went to the other side of the table and sat down, grinning. “What were you doing?”

“I was just exercising my mouth.” She put down her fork and pursed her lips in a series of contortions. “See. It helps keep wrinkles from forming.” She picked up her fork and ate a small bite of string beans, taking her time chewing. “A woman my age has to think of these things.”

He laughed. “What else does a woman your age think of? You, in particular.”

“Oh, lots of things. Music, theater, politics, education.”

“Let's take music. Do you like jazz? Pop? Blues? Classical? Golden oldies?”

“All of them, especially golden oldies. Everything about the forties fascinates me.”

Rick took a big bite of steak, thinking. He should have known. A woman who could kiss and who liked golden oldies, to boot. Of course, she was scared to death of flying, which was a great passion of his, but two out of three wasn't bad.

“I suppose you're a Republican?”

“Dyed-in-the-wool Democrat.”

“Then you hate taxes but love giveaway programs.”

“I think that excellence in anything has its price. If that price is higher taxes, then I'm willing to pay my share. Especially for education.”

 o0o

Clyde and Velma walked into the room in time to hear the political discussion. Their hopes fell. They would have been happy if Rick and Martha Ann had been discussing the weather or Las Vegas or food or even snake killing—anything except politics. They exchanged a glance that said their guests definitely needed rescuing.

Velma slid into a chair beside Martha Ann, and Clyde sat down across the table beside Rick.

Velma patted Martha Ann's arm. “How about this girl in my costume? Is she sensational or what?”

Rick grinned. “It's nice.”

Martha Ann nearly choked on her potatoes.

Velma tried again. “You should have heard Clyde bragging on Rick. Why, he said that man has more knowledge of machines in his little finger than Ralph has in his whole head.” She paused dramatically and turned to Martha Ann, waiting for a comment.

“That's nice.” Martha Ann gave Rick a mischievous grin.

“Well...” Velma kicked Clyde under the table.

“Uh... there's a lovely moon out tonight.”

Velma beamed. “It sure is. Just right for a walk in the moonlight.”

“You two go and have a great time,” Martha Ann said. “Rick and I will clean up the kitchen.”

Velma kicked under the table again, missing Clyde and nailing Rick in the shin. He grunted.

“The high point of Clyde's day is helping me with the dinner dishes.” Velma's lethal foot struck again.

“Owwww... Oh, that's right.” Clyde pushed back his chair and hobbled around the table. “You two go on and enjoy the moon. Velma and I will wash up.”

“That's a wonderful idea,” Rick said. “I've been sitting here trying to get up enough courage to ask Martha Ann for a walk in the moonlight.”

Martha Ann smothered her derisive hoot with her hand. Rick McGill had enough courage to slay an invasion of hostile Martians and still have enough left over to share with the entire U.S. Army.

“What a
nice
idea.” She stood up. “It will be such a
nice
walk.”

Rick came around the table, took her elbow, and escorted her toward the door. Leaning down, he whispered, “It had better not be.”

Chapter Five

The minute they were out the door, Martha Ann sat down on the front porch steps, being careful to choose a board that was not rickety.

“I'm not going a step. I'm tired and my feet hurt and I don't want to be off in the dark with you.”

“You suspect me of impure motives?” Rick propped one foot on the step beside her and leaned his elbow on his knee. “I'm crushed.”

“You look about as crushed as an elephant in an orange juice press.”

“At least you've decided not to be nice.”

“I may never be nice again as long as I live. I was beginning to bore myself.”

Rick laughed. It was amazing to him how often he laughed with Martha Ann. Most women he knew took themselves and life too seriously. Not her, though. She just went zinging through life, doing whatever came naturally.

She would wear well. Fifty years from now she'd be as much fun as she was today. Not that he'd be around her fifty years from now. He wasn't looking for a woman to grow old with. Not yet, anyhow. But still...

“Do you think we'll be here two weeks, Rick?”

“Don't worry about that. Even if Ralph doesn't get Clyde's truck repaired, I think I can have that tractor in running condition in another day or so. If necessary I can drive it to the nearest ranch and arrange transportation to Las Vegas.”

“Good. I have to be back home in two weeks.”

“You do?”

She remembered too late that she was supposed to be a wealthy woman without obligations.

“Society appointments... charity benefits and the like. Nothing I can't cancel though. But I am anxious to find my husband.”

“I'd say you're a woman desperately in need of a husband.”

“I wouldn't say 'desperately.' “

“No. But your kisses do.”

“Why, you blackguard!” She left the steps and marched across the yard, her back stiff.

He caught up with her and took her arm. “Going for a walk? I think I'll go, too.”

“I don't know how you ever expect to find a wife.”

“I'm not looking.”

“You don't take anything seriously. One minute you're just as good as you can be, talking about your plans for getting us to a telephone, and the next you're so wicked, your own grandmother would disown you.”

“I'm her favorite grandson.”

He steered her toward the barn and the shade of a large cottonwood tree. Even though the sun had gone down it was still hot outside. Releasing her arm, he leaned against the tree trunk.

“Let's stop right here. I've done enough walking today to last me a lifetime.”

“Then why did you act so eager to go on this walk?”

“I didn't want to hurt Velma's and Clyde's feelings. You know, of course, that they're trying as hard as they can to get the two of us together.”

“You don't need any help. That bit at the creek this afternoon...”

“... was all their doing. Clyde sent me down there. On purpose, I think.”

“Good grief.”

“Not that I'm complaining. I loved every minute of it.”

So had she, but she wasn't going to tell him. She walked a few paces from him and picked up a slender Cottonwood branch. Her mind replayed the day's event as she thrust the makeshift foil into the air. Somewhere between the night in the Valley of Fire and the encounter beside the creek, she'd lost sight of her primary purpose: Finding her sister's husband. She
had
to concentrate. She had to learn to resist the charming rake beside her. She had to...

“Do you fence?”

She neatly parried an imaginary thrust and turned to him. “Yes.”

He picked up a branch to match her own. “En garde.”

His attack was expert and aggressive. Their wooden foils clashed in the darkness as they dueled. His strength was superior, but she was quick. She neatly parried a head cut and began her riposte.

“You're good, Mrs. O'Grady.”

She scored a point to his chest. The wooden foil quivered there, and she smiled. “Lost your concentration, didn't you?”

“Only for a moment. It's those rhinestones that keep distracting me.”

Martha Ann had forgotten about her costume. It was designed to reveal. And right now, with all that fencing activity, it was revealing more than any self-respecting Episcopalian would dare. To top it all off, her skin was gleaming with sweat and the reflected glow of rhinestones, and Rick McGill was appreciating every exposed inch of it.

“Are we still playing, Mrs. O'Grady?”

“Playing?”

He chuckled. “Fencing?”

“Of course.” She leaped and lunged, but her own concentration had disappeared.

Rick scored a quick point. The tip of his wooden foil barely touched her chest, right between her cleavage. She stood, panting.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No.” The makeshift foil still rested intimately on her breasts. She wished he would move it.

“You're sure? I get carried away with games, and we're not dressed for fencing.”

The tip of his foil moved, circling slowly, intimately on her skin. She thought it was deliberate, but she couldn't be sure.

“I'm fine. Just a little hot.”

“You're hot?” His smile was devilish. The foil moved again, this time tracing along the tops of her breasts.

She drew in a sharp breath. “It's the desert. I'd forgotten how hot it can be out here.”

“Steamy.” The tip of his foil nudged the thin material downward. She felt herself responding to the sensual play of his sword.

“Such heat can be downright scary.” She was almost panting now.

“Even dangerous.” His smile was slow and lazy. The limber foil skimmed underneath the rhinestones. Rick's foil teased her, played with her, excited her.

She was mesmerized. She couldn't have moved if she had wanted to. And she didn't want to. She was at the mercy of this wicked man and his sensual sword.

Rick was panting now. What had started as fun was turning into something else. He sensed that he could have an easy victory there under the cottonwood tree, but he wasn't ready for that yet. He wanted to enjoy the chase a while longer.

He gazed at Martha Ann. In the moonlight the beauty spot above her lips looked more fetching than ever. And her hair—it was so black and lush a man could disappear in it and never be found again. Raven's wing, velvet black, midnight dark. Some crazy fool poet in his soul was making him think in metaphors.

The tip of his foil faltered. Looking into her eyes, he slowly withdrew his sword. They didn't speak for a while but stood watching each other. Finally she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.