Solitaire (18 page)

“I’ve finished the rough calculations. I need to sit down and discuss them with you. Do you have a couple of hours to spare?”

Slade heard the strain in Cat’s voice. How he had missed her! Ten days without Cat had been a prison sentence for him. He had longed for her voice, her effusive laughter, her quiet, steady presence. Hungrily, he now drank her in as she stood like a wary doe ready to flee at the first sign of danger. She was pale, he realized with a pang, and she wore no makeup to hide it. She wore a light blue short-sleeved chambray shirt, jeans and sensible brown shoes. It looked almost as if she were dressed for field work, except for the mandatory hard hat and rough boots. Her outfit didn’t diminish her femininity in his eyes, though. The fullness of her parted lips sent an ache throbbing through him. Slade had often remembered kissing those lips.

“Sure, I’ve got the time.” He sounded like an eager schoolboy on shaky ground. Well, wasn’t he?

Cat turned without preamble and began the walk back to her office. Her hands were damp and she longed to rub them on her thighs to dry them off, but Slade would notice, and she didn’t want to broadcast her nervousness. She almost smiled in spite of herself, though. Slade’s harsh face had softened the moment he saw her. Was that an act on his part? Was it real? Cat groaned inwardly; why did she even care? Hadn’t he shown his real character already?

Slade entered her office and saw two chairs sitting side by side at the drafting desk. Cat sat down, waiting for him. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and then sat beside her.

“What did you come up with?” he asked.
Great, Donovan, you sound like a twelve-year-old boy whose voice is changing.

Cat drew the first sheaf of papers between them, keenly aware of Slade’s closeness. She tried valiantly to cap her own escaping feelings and cleared her throat. “I’ve made a study of the Chivor and Muzo mine operations before deciding what ours would be. Muzo’s emerald fields are found in a loose, black shale that quite literally is on the surface. All they’ve had to do is clear out the jungle and go to work to reclaim the gems.” She scowled, placing a paper in front of him. “Their mining operations are antiquated and, to say the least, environmentally damaging. As you can see in this color photo, they’re using strip-mining techniques. They blast with dynamite and then go in with huge bulldozers, shoveling the black shale into vast washing and screening areas. Water is used to wash away the debris and leave the emeralds. What can’t be bulldozed after a blast is jackhammered by miners and then pushed into the gullies.” Cat glanced at him and lost her train of thought. She loved his mouth despite herself. It had ravished hers until she had melted into an oblivion of wildly boiling heat and desire. His nearness was devastating to her, and her voice faltered as she tried to pick up the reins of her conversation. “The gangue, or waste rock, is pushed into the Rio Itoco below. There the guaqueros sift through the tailings during the day, hoping to find a stray emerald.”

Slade nodded, resting his chin on one of his hands. He saw her hand tremble as she turned the page of her assessment. Automatically, he wanted to reach out, take her hand and tell her everything would be all right. Miserably, he knew that wasn’t true. If only he could make things right between them. With a monumental effort, he addressed her comments. “The people pan the waters of the river during the day and become tunnel rats at night. They try to either break into the terraces, which are heavily guarded by the Colombian police, or dig into the shallow mines.”

“Right.” Cat brought out another paper, swallowing hard. She had seen the tenderness in Slade’s eyes as he locked and held her gaze. Despite everything, he did lay claim to her heart, Cat realized in anguish. She wanted to reach out and caress his cheek, to take away some of the pain that lay at the downturned corners of his mouth. Yes, they were both suffering. “Muzo’s methods are outdated. Not only that, but indiscriminate blasting with dynamite is going to certainly destroy some of the emeralds.”

Slade snorted. “That’s already happened. At Chivor they blast cautiously and with low charges and only when necessary.” Why did she have to look waiflike? It devastated him to think that he had caused Cat to appear almost a ghost of her former self. No longer was her skin that golden color, her eyes that glorious velvet green sparkling with life. When she stared at him, all he saw was fear and…was it longing? Was that possible? He clung to that possibility, barely hearing her speak about the assessment. Each word she formed with her full lips created a widening ache through him. He loved her.

Cat couldn’t relax beneath Slade’s intense stare and she retreated deep into her mining-engineer mode. “Your mine, on the other hand, will be a mixture of open-pit mining methods involving the terracing of the surrounding hillside, plus sinking a shaft.” She cleared her throat and traced one line of figures on a core-sample readout. “My educated guess, based upon your channel samplings, is that the calcite-limestone vein surfaces here on the hill and slowly moves back down into the earth over here.” Cat drew him a quick picture, showing the stratum that might hold emeralds between its thinly wafered sheets.

“What’s your opinion? Are we in business or not?” he asked.

Cat straightened up, running fingers through her hair. She expelled a breath of air, taking another paper and handing it to him. “If my calculations stand up and if your channel samples were spaced properly, the Verde should yield one emerald for every twenty million particles of surrounding overburden. You’re in business, all right.”

Slade stared down at Cat’s figures. Her numbers, all in dark leaded pencil, were agonizingly neat and precise. A slight smile hovered around the corners of his mouth. “This is even better than I had roughly figured.”

“You’ll have everything you want, Slade.” The words had come out flat and emotionless as Cat stared at him.

Slade ground his teeth together, bristling over her unspoken accusation. Her eyes were a cool green. He tried to tell himself he deserved that from Cat because of what he’d done to her. Damn it, it hurt! And he was angry at her for prodding that festering wound that now stood between them. “Why don’t you give me your mine evaluation?” he asked.

Cat slipped back into her professional mode easily, like a horse into a familiar, comfortable harness. She went over the determination factors: an estimate of future operations, a suitable production schedule, the grade, market and selling price of the product and the production life of the mine. She went into the size, shape, attitude and quality of the emerald deposit, which was determined by geologic studies and maps. She missed nothing in her smooth, methodical presentation. At the end of the second hour, with a large flowchart concluding the final presentation, Cat wrapped it up.

“The mine itself will be tricky. Transportation of certain types of timber is going to be a problem. I’m going to need heavy equipment to get that lumber out of the jungle. And you’ll need to build a good road that won’t wash out in the tropical rains of winter.” She shrugged and gestured toward the plans on the drafting board. “All of this is detailed and you can read it at your leisure.”

Slade nodded thoughtfully, watching as Cat shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and walked over to the wall of windows. The sun was slanting through the glass, making her sable hair come alive with threads of gold. He had sponged in her presence in the past two hours, as if starved. God, how he had missed her.

“You’ve done a thorough job on this, Cat. A damn good job.” His voice shook with gratitude and pride in her abilities. Slade managed a tight smile, holding her thawing emerald gaze, realizing he had reached inside those defensive walls and touched her, the woman. “Now I see why you’ve got one hell of a name for yourself in our industry. It would take most people a good month just to put a preliminary study like this together. You did it in two weeks.”

“You had everything I needed here,” Cat countered, feeling warm and good as his praise flowed through her. “Part of the time factor is based on how much an engineer has to run around collecting all the pieces of various data that are needed to put a show like this together. You’re good at your job, too, Slade.”

He arched like a cat beneath her flattery, and his mouth stretched into a smile. “What do you say we celebrate? Matt and Kai want me to fly us to Houston for dinner tonight. We’ll go to a nice restaurant and relax. We both need that.”

Cat stiffened. At first, she was going to say no. But Kai had been a godsend the first two weeks of her stay at the ranch, and she owed her thanks. More importantly, Kai had become her friend. But every minute spent with Slade weakened her resolve, her past hurt over his actions. Cat anguished over the decision.

“Come on, say yes,” Slade coaxed. “Kai’s called over here three times in the last ten days wanting to see you. She’s been craving some female company. What do you say?”

Cat gnawed on her lower lip and stared down at her shoes. “Okay.” There was a razor-honed edge to her voice.

“I’ll keep my distance from you,” Slade said, sensing she wanted to hear some sort of verbal promise from him.

“Fine.” She lifted her head. “I think it’s best if it’s business all the way between us.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Cat eyed him. At first, she had been angry with Slade for tricking her. Then, she felt childish after leveling a barrage at him–although she had gotten it cleaned out of her system once and for all. But ten days had modified her initial anger. The past week had made her aware of just how much she liked Slade, regardless of what had happened to damage their relationship. Cat was afraid of her own feelings toward Slade. The less she saw of him, the more she was able to control them. “Good. I’ll see you later, then.”

Slade rose. “They’ll be here at six tonight.”

“Is this formal?”

“Yes.”

That meant a dress. And judging from the look of longing in Slade’s eyes, Cat knew she was in trouble. She had tried her best for the past two weeks to dress for business, not pleasure. She didn’t want any more of Slade’s mesmerizing advances weakening her resolve. Wearing a dress would invite his advances, and she knew it. How did she get herself painted into corners like this? If she hadn’t been angry with Slade, it would be funny. Normally, her sense of humor rescued her; this time it didn’t.

“I’ll be ready about five-thirty or so,” she promised.

“What color dress will you be wearing?”

“Turquoise.”

Slade smiled enigmatically. “Perfect,” he murmured. “I’ll come for you at five-thirty.”

* * *

Why am I taking so many extra pains to look pretty?
Cat gave herself a disgruntled look in the floor-length mirror. She wore a designer dress, a stunning turquoise creation made of rich georgette and luminous satin. Together, the materials created an elegant dress for any special occasion. The deep-draped neckline was graced with a satin camisole inset. The satin sash with a rosette emphasized her narrow waist, while the full-circle skirt flowed with breathtaking grace each time she moved. The sleeves were full and cuffed at her wrists, adding to the overall frothy look. This was a dress to dance in, no matter how poor a dancer she was. Cat sighed, running her fingers across the beautiful, wispy fabric. That was how she felt around Slade despite everything he had done–feminine and…loved.

Cat chose pearl earrings set in a circle of thin gold, but realized something was missing. She needed some kind of necklace to set off the dress. Oh, well, such was life, she admitted regretfully. Taking one more look at herself in the mirror, she decided she looked unusually attractive. Was it the soft sweep of her recently washed hair? The dress? Glumly, Cat knew that despite everything, she wanted to be beautiful for Slade. Damn his hold over her!

When the knock came at her door, Cat turned on her turquoise sandals and opened it. She was completely unprepared for what she saw. Slade was darkly handsome in a black tuxedo, white shirt and black tie. He had shaved, erasing the five o’clock shadow he grew daily, and his hair was still damp and neatly combed into place. Her lips parted as she stared helplessly up into the warmth of his blue eyes.

“You look beautiful,” he said huskily, holding out his hand toward her. His heart started violently as he absorbed Cat’s unparalleled beauty. The fragrance of her perfume drugged him and his nostrils eagerly drank in her scent. The design of the turquoise dress enhanced the delicious, exotic tilt of her green eyes. Never had he seen her look so desirable. She was all curves and softness and Slade fought the urge to take Cat into his arms, crushing her against him. Holding himself in check, he shared an unsure smile with her. Cat was just as nervous as he was, he discovered to his relief. Her fingers were damp as she lightly placed her hand in his.

“Thank you,” Cat said a little breathlessly, walking slowly toward the living room with him.

“Kai and Matt are already here. We’ve got time for a drink before we go.” Slade accompanied her into the living room, where Kai and her husband, Matt, were sitting on one sofa, drinks in hand. “About an hour from now I’m flying us all to Houston and we’re going to have dinner at the Brownstone.”

“The Brownstone?” Cat stared up at him in disbelief. That particular restaurant was the best in the city. Slade had made it sound as if the night’s excursion was going to be less posh, less intimate. “But–I thought–”

Slade grinned rakishly, guiding her to the couch opposite the Travis’s. “You need a break. We both do,” he explained in his dark, honeyed voice, his mouth close to her ear. “Want your usual? A margarita?”

Cat stared up at him, nonplussed. She saw the glint of mischief in his eyes. If she read accurately between the lines, Slade had deliberately set up this plan and put it into motion. “No. Give me a double Scotch on the rocks,” she said, at a loss to stay ahead of his surprises. It was supposed to be business only between them, not pleasure. She was frightened of her own emotional reactions to him. Ten days had not assuaged her feelings for Slade. How could she control them for an entire evening in one of the most romantic restaurants in Houston?