Asking For It (8 page)

"Look, you're still mad at me. Fine." He waved a hand in the air. "But can we skip past that for a minute here? I need to use your telephone."

"You
need
to use my telephone." She'd been expecting the request and had debated all night over her reply. "How...interesting," she now drawled, though inside she started to tremble. Could she go through with this?

The parts of his face that weren't black-and-blue were getting dusky. "It's beyond interesting. It's imperative." He spoke as if using her expensive satellite phone was his right, and not a favor. "I should have called L.A. last night. Things are falling apart even as we speak."

Kate affected an expression of alarm. "Oh, that's right. Your wife and family — they must be frantic to know what's happened to you." Her friend with DSL had seen no evidence Griffith had a family, but Kate wanted to be sure.

And indeed, Griffith gave a dismissive snort. "I'm not married. No, it's my business. The competition I was telling you about. The sooner I get on the horn, the better."

"Your business. Oh yes, the cutthroat competition..." Kate tapped a finger against her lips. That was his only concern: his business. Not a person, not even a pet.

"So." Griffith held out a hand. "The phone?"

Kate continued tapping her lips. What she'd decided to do was wrong. She knew that. But she also knew it would be more wrong to send kids home. It would be significantly more wrong to jeopardize her funding if word got to her sponsors she hadn't been able to maintain a full session.

Besides, Blaine wasn't someone whose feelings she had to consider. He'd proved that to her last night. And he could afford to take off a day or two, until she could find a real counselor to replace him.

Kate's heart beat like crazy, but she was sure she was correct. Griffith's life wouldn't fall apart on account of a couple of days. Whereas the kids she'd have to send home might be missing the opportunity to change their entire lives. In the ten years Kate had been running the camp, she'd seen such miracles happen too often to discount the possibility.

And there was no wife, no family. With that snort, Griffith made it very clear there was not a single human being who would be harmed by his absence.

Except, possibly, for himself. And though Kate tried to separate her personal animosity for the fellow from the equation, she couldn't work up the decency to care if she inconvenienced Mr. Blaine.

"No," she said.

He blinked a few times. "Excuse me?"

"You cannot use my phone, Mr. Blaine."

Hand still outstretched, he gaped at her. "What?"

"You heard me." Kate moved to walk around him again, as if the conversation were over. Her heart was still going a mile a minute. What was she doing? Was she insane? But she'd been over and over this in her head. Short of physical violence, there wasn't anything he could do to her. Even once he got back to L.A. — what law was she breaking? Thou shalt share your satellite phone?

And, okay, it might be nice, or humane, and definitely
do-good
, to loan him her phone, but she didn't have to. For heaven's sake, it wasn't her fault Blaine was stuck here.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." He moved to block her retreat. "Whadda you mean I can't use your phone? You know perfectly well it's the only one here that works."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that." Kate pressed a hand to her chest. "But I have a strict rule. My phone is only to be used in case of emergency."

He looked amazed. "And what do you call this?!"

"An inconvenience."

"
What
?!"

With a sigh, Kate took a step back. She gave him a scrutinizing look, starting with the pained curl of eyebrow over his black eye and traveling down past the too-big T-shirt to the Ferragamo loafers they'd been able to salvage the night before.

His appearance should have been pitiable, but instead the man looked...dangerous. Not like an ax murderer dangerous, but there was a subtle, perhaps personal, menace.

That menace challenged Kate. She refused to buckle under it.

"No, Mr. Blaine," she told him. "It doesn't appear to me that you're in medical distress." She paused, looking innocent. "In fact, last night you made sure to demonstrate to me you were in top physical form."

His face reddened. "I never said I was having medical distress, but that doesn't make the situation any less urgent."

"It doesn't?" Obviously, the man had never experienced a true medical emergency.

"Listen." His one-eyed gaze went steely. "I run a company with a budget of a hundred million dollars a year. Perhaps never having dealt with that much money, you can't imagine the responsibility that comes with it. I have to get to L.A. before everything starts to fall apart."

"Because
you
aren't there."

"That's right." He continued the steely look.

Kate had thought of this problem. She didn't want anybody hurt — anybody besides Griffith Blaine, that was. "Correct me if I'm wrong," she said to him now. "But in your company with its multi-million dollar budget, you must employ people, manager sort of people. People who do the actual, day-to-day business?" She cocked her head.

His skin reddened again, conceding the point, even as he claimed, "I'm crucial."

Smiling, Kate shook her head. "This isn't an emergency and you can't use my phone."

"You — " His jaw flexed. "I'm using it. Where is the damn thing?"

"I've got ten teenagers waiting for me on the front quad. If I don't get out there soon they'll find some kind of trouble. Have a nice day, Mr. Blaine."

"The f — You can't keep me here, Darby."

"Who said anything about keeping you?" Kate shot him another innocent expression. Ah, but this was the beauty of her plan. She
wasn't
keeping him against his will. She simply wasn't easing his departure. "You're free to leave any time you want."

He gave her a disbelieving look.

Kate pointed toward the north. "The path down the mountain is at the edge of camp that way. It's five miles to the bottom. Bert Lebow has a cabin there but he doesn't have a telephone, I'm afraid. Nor a car. If you want any of those, it's an easy ten-mile hike across the plateau to Sagebrush Valley City. I believe there's a pay phone at the mini-mart there."

Griffith's face was growing very red, but Kate had to hand it to him. He didn't explode. He just stood there glaring at her with his one functioning eye. "Why?" he demanded. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Kate shifted her gaze. She doubted there was any point trying to explain. Mr. Blaine would never agree with her that her campers were more important than his big, fancy company.

He made a sound of disgust. "It's because of last night, isn't it? Look, I'm
sorry
, okay? I didn't intend to flash you. All I was trying to do was keep you from falling over. Is that a crime?"

"Oh, boy." Kate was amazed. "I'm supposed to be thanking you?" But an uncomfortable doubt slipped into her mind. Surely it wasn't that brief encounter with Griffith's naked body that was inspiring her present course of action? No. She hadn't cared about
that
. She only cared that his problems weren't as severe as her campers.'

He uttered a low expletive. "Look, I'll make one call and get someone to pick me up from here. You'll never have to see my offensive self again."

Kate looked away, not wanting him to know how tempting it was. But she couldn't let down her campers. They needed Griffith's over-eighteen-years-of-age warm body on the property. At least, they needed it there until she could find somebody to replace him.

"No," she said.

Griffith took in a deep breath, and let it out with an explosive, "Fine!" He took a step back. "Just fine. I don't need your stupid telephone anyway."

He didn't? For an instant Kate worried. Did he intend to try climbing down the hill by himself? He might even make it, despite the multiplicity of cut-offs and intersecting fire roads. "Good," she replied, acting like she'd have no problem if he did leave and hike all the way to Sagebrush Valley City. "That's fine, then."

"Fine, yes. It's all peachy keen," he snapped at her, then curved his lips into an evil smile. "You're going to be sorry you crossed me, Ms. Darby."

"Am I?" Thinking of her waiting fourteen-year-olds, Kate started toward the door and the front quad.

"You'll see." He didn't try to block her way this time, just let his voice follow her. "You are going to regret you didn't treat me like a king."

Kate couldn't help smiling as she went out the door. His threat was the classic taunt of a bully who knew he'd been outmaneuvered.

He wasn't going to try going down the hill.

~~~

The sun was hot and high in the sky, but Griffith had yet to find a way out of Camp Wild Hills. With his stomach rumbling — it had been a day and a half since he'd last eaten — he limped toward the dining hall, hoping his guess was right and it was lunchtime.

After Kate's refusal to let him use her damn satellite phone, Griffith had stomped off in the direction she'd pointed, toward the head of the trail that led down the hill.

She thought she could stop him? She thought
she
was in charge here? Ha.

Proving the opposite, he'd actually managed to find the trail. Flushed with that victory, Griffith had stood at the edge of the dirt-packed firebreak and looked into the wall of chaparral through which the steep trail turned and twisted.

Go on. Hike
. But Griffith only stood there, his flush of triumph fading. He'd spent a lot of time studying maps of the area. This trail was not one simple, solitary track, but crisscrossed by fire roads, some of which had to be crossed, some of which had to be used. Even with a decent sense of direction, an unfamiliar hiker could easily get lost.

Swallowing, Griffith stood there and started to feel dizzy just thinking about it. A disorienting vertigo crept up his throat as he imagined how the unfamiliar landmarks would blur and start spinning.

Nauseous now, he whirled to face the other direction. To his infinite relief, he could see the roof tile of the main camp building. He'd be able to find his way back.

Because, much as he hated to admit it, he wasn't going down that trail.

At least, not alone.

Griffith gritted his teeth. He
was
getting out of there, however. He was getting back to L.A., where he could strangle Simon Grolier, secure his loan for the Wildwood Project, and see about
taking away Kate's water
.

On his way back to camp, a flicker of something sour seeped through Griffith. Guilt? No. Couldn't be. Although maybe he did have to admit his own hypocrisy. Here he was furious with Kate for making his return home difficult, when what he intended to do once he got there was thoroughly shaft her.

Griffith snorted. So, what? She didn't know what he planned to do. There was no excuse for her behavior. None at all.

As the morning wore on, Griffith developed even less sympathy for Kate's plight as one tack after another failed to win him his goal.

He cornered each of the teenage counselors. To a man, they refused to show him the way down the hill.

"Hey, bud, I can't leave my kids," the one named José told Griffith, laughing.

"The kids can come with us," Griffith argued, desperate. Both Bill and Tony had already refused him.

José shook his head. "Taking a ten-mile hike up and down the hill is not on the schedule for today."

"Then leave the kids here." It was all Griffith could do not to scream. Didn't any of these people get it? "I'll pay you, of course. Enough to make up for it if you lose your job — more than you could make this entire summer."

José's expression went very strange, almost...pitying. "No, thanks," he said.

It was obvious Kate had brainwashed the poor fools.

Next Griffith tried getting a ride from the cook. A round, Mexican woman, she was just maneuvering herself into her Ford Escort when Griffith happened to come around the back of the building.

His one open eye lit up. A ride!

"Senora, senora!" he called, waving his arms.

Her round face turned, and at sight of him, her expression went alarmed. "No, no!" A jabber of excited Spanish followed, none of which Griffith could understand. She waved her arms at him, waving him off.

Griffith cheerfully ignored the warning. "You gotta take me with you," he told her, and pulled open the passenger side door. "I'm a prisoner here. Prisonero." He had no idea what the word was in Spanish. "
Peligro
," he said instead.

"
Peligro
!" Unfortunately, the daft woman seemed to think Griffith was the danger. She hit him with her purse, an assault Griffith could have withstood blissfully given the benefit of getting to Sagebrush Valley City, but when she saw the purse wasn't having its desired effect, she whipped out of it a huge can of pepper spray. "
Véte
!" she said.

Griffith didn't have to know Spanish to understand that one. Out on the asphalt drive, he held up his hands. "Nice, cook," he murmured. "Nice one."