Solitaire (8 page)

“I’m sure Dal and Rafe gave you an earful about me.”

“Don’t sound so wary.”

With a grimace, Cat pretended to pay more attention to the sky around them. “All right, you tell me what they said.”

“Let’s see, what adjectives should I use?”

“If you use exotic, I’m going to take everything you’re saying as one-hundred percent baloney, Donovan,” she warned him.

“Texans can be serious at times, too,” he reassured her, attempting a somber look.

“We’ll see. So what do you think of me, now that you’ve learned all from my family?”

“You’re a daredevil. Rafe told me how you two jumped your horses between two cliffs.”

“Did he also tell you that my horse stumbled on the other side and fell? I broke my arm and nose.”

Slade shook his head. He saw and felt Cat relaxing. She had been so long in isolation with men that she was closed up. He saw the softening of her lips, heard new life in her voice and saw more color stain her cheeks. If nothing else, during the next eight weeks of recuperation, Slade would remind Cat of her decidedly female side, gently drawing all of it to the surface. He knew he could do it; there was a chemistry between them.

“Rafe said you and he made the jump, but that Dal had chickened out. I’d probably be with Dal.” Slade paused and looked at her. “What you did matches the kind of career you chose. Mining engineers have to be a blend of conservatism and daring.”

“What I did didn’t take much brains–is that what you’re saying?”

“Hey, we were all young once and we all pulled our share of foolish stunts. I’m chalking up your wild ride to youth.”

“If the truth be known, I was scared spitless. Rafe was angry because Dal wouldn’t go and he–well, I let him coerce me into doing it.”

“But you didn’t want to?”

“Are you kidding me? That was an eight-foot leap. I was riding a green four-year-old quarter horse who’d never seen a cliff, much less jumped one. I didn’t know if he was going to jump it, skid to the edge, fall into it or what.”

Slade pursed his lips, going for a second cup of coffee and offering her some. She declined. “Interesting,” he murmured.

“Oh?”

Slade put the plane back on autopilot and sipped his coffee. “That gives me a useful piece of information about you.”

“Uh-oh…”

He grinned. “It’s not bad. What it tells me is that despite an overwhelming fear, you did what had to be done and carried it out successfully. I call that courage.”

“That particular stunt was called stupid. What took courage was to tell Dad how I broke my arm and nose. Rafe got the belt on his behind. I would’ve gotten a licking, too, if I hadn’t gotten broken bones.”

Savoring the hot liquid before he spoke, Slade commented, “You can still take that basic premise about yourself and apply it like a formula to any other type of situation. No, there’s a basic vein of courage in you. I like that.”

Cat warmed beneath Slade’s compliment; the obvious pleasure in his voice was like a physical caress. She rarely enjoyed men in the field. But she wasn’t in the field; her contract assignment had been delayed because of her injury. Cat’s brows dipped.

“What’s bothering you?” Slade asked.

“Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking that because of this accident, I’ve blown my next assignment.” She had talked briefly to Ian Connors, the man who had hired her. Technically, because of her unexpected injuries, she didn’t have to honor the contract. Cat had managed to hold off giving him an answer on whether she’d fulfill the contract or not. Just the bare thought of entering another mine made her break into a cold sweat.

“In Australia?”

“Yes. A two-year contract.”

“You needed a vacation anyway, Cat.”

He was right. She hadn’t walked away from work for five years now. “Work is play for me,” she tried without enthusiasm. How could one mine cave-in turn her lifelong love into a terrorizing nightmare she never wanted to experience again?

“Still, we all need time away, Cat.”

“Do you?” Cat asked, trying to deflect talk of her going back to work. Specifically, into a mine.

“Sure, I’m only human. I can stand the jungle or being a sand rat for only so long and then I have to get back to civilization and get human again.”

“Are you between assignments?”

“Yeah. I was heading home to Texas for a couple of months.”

“How long since you were home?”

“One year. I think you’ll like Mourning Dove. For west Texas, it’s a nice spot.”

“A lot of sand, scrub brush, jackrabbit and deer?”

“That, too.”

“Tell me about the ranch. Is it a working one?”

“Not anymore. I’ve more or less created a deer preserve out of it and sold off all the cattle. I have a Mexican family who lives nearby who takes care of it during my absences. Carlos and his wife, Pilar, are the caretakers.” His voice grew warmer. “Pilar is the best cook this side of the Mexican border. I can hardly wait to get home and fatten up on her cooking.” He patted his hard, lean stomach meaningfully.

Cat understood; she was underweight as well. Perhaps the Mourning Dove Ranch wasn’t going to be all that bad after all. Slade wasn’t the womanizer she had first thought. As a matter of fact, she was going to have to reevaluate many things about Slade. Cat couldn’t apply her earlier experiences to him because he didn’t fit into the categories of men she had known before. She slid him a warm look.

“Has anyone ever accused you of being different?”

Slade laughed solidly, flipped a switch to take the plane off autopilot and resumed the task of flying. “Many times. Why? Does it bother you?”

“You are a bit disconcerting.” And disturbing. Every movement he made reminded Cat that Slade was a consummate athlete; there was never a wasted motion and he had a coordination that at times took her breath away.

“But not threatening?”

She paused a moment before answering, “No.”

“What took you so long to answer my question?”

Cat refused to be baited by him. “Nothing.”

“You were trying to decide whether to be wary of me or not, weren’t you?”

“Quit being such a know-it-all.”

“Your brother, Rafe, spoke a lot about you.” He added in a gentler voice, “Good things. How you love the land and the animals. How easily you were moved by a sunset. Or by a foal being born. I like my woman to be easily touched by everything around her.”

A tremor vibrated through her and Cat discreetly did not ask what Slade meant when he called her his woman. His ability to put everything, including their conversation, on intensely personal terms rattled her. “Life, to me, is a continual blossoming,” she admitted, her eyes darkening with fervor. “All we have to do is keep our hearts and minds open to receive its gifts.”

Slade’s mouth curved into a knowing smile. “Why are you so afraid to show that side of yourself?”

“I think all of us hide parts of ourselves,” Cat said defensively.

“I’m an open book.”

“Sure you are. That’s why you unexpectedly dropped into my life.”

Slade glanced quickly at her. “Best thing I ever did.”

Cat shook her head. “So, if you aren’t an igneous type, what are you?” she asked, ignoring his innuendo.

“I’m a sedimentary man. Ah, the eyebrows lift and the eyes go wide. What do you know, I finally got a rise out of you.”

“You get a rise out of me every time we spar,” Cat parried.

“I don’t see us as sparring.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

Slade scratched his head. “Somehow, I’m going to have to instill some trust into our relationship.”

Cat almost blurted out, “What relationship?” But she bit back the response. “Why sedimentary rock? Most geologists are bored stiff by that type.”

“You find a fair amount of gem-quality stone in sediment, that’s why.”

“Ah, now you’re beginning to make sense. You’re more a gem hunter than a geologist.” Cat eyed him speculatively. “You’re a prospector in search of the mother lode, aren’t you?”

Slade checked the instruments, a smile pulling at his mouth. “You mean a treasure hunter? A modern-day gold miner?”

“You said it; I didn’t.”

“I hear distaste in your voice.” Slade’s voice was deceptively noncommittal.

Cat tried to evade his comment. Greg had done this to her; he had placed the mining of precious gems over their love for one another. And it had killed their relationship. Struggling not to let her past experience taint her idea of Slade, she said, “There’s nothing wrong with finding the world’s major tourmaline deposits. It can make you a very rich man.”

Slade looked at her a long time. He saw the discomfort in every line of Cat’s mobile face. “And you think that’s why I go chasing after gem mines?” he probed.

“I don’t know. Why do you? You don’t strike me as the typical treasure hunter.” Which was true. Slade was unlike Greg in many ways, and for the better.

Slade was glad that Cat had asked instead of just assumed why he specialized in precious stones. Even he had to admit that most of the gem hunters he knew were like the old-timers during the gold rush. They were loners to begin with, shaped by the roughness of their life-style. Most of the men he knew carried pistols on their hips and knives in their belts. And they all had one driving force in common: they wanted to get rich. Money took precedence over anything else that life might offer them.

“Gems hold a special fascination for me, Cat. In a way, they’re like people: when you first discover them, put a miner’s light on them, they’re rough and unpolished. Then, as you take the time to gently loosen them from the matrix of pegmatite or sediment, you can carry them to the surface. It’s exciting to realize that what you carry in the palm of your hand hasn’t ever seen sunlight. As you bring it to the surface to watch the light refract through it for the first time, you’re the first one to ever witness it.” Slade gave her a soft smile. “It’s much like watching a person unfold in front of you, watching how they react and respond. Later, a jeweler will look at that rough specimen with a knowing eye, spot its inclusions and watch how the light refracts through it. He’ll cut it to bring out all of the natural fire and brilliance that has waited millions of years to be brought to life.”

“That’s an inspiring view.” At least he hadn’t mentioned money as his prime goal, Cat thought.

The corners of his eyes crinkled and he shared a look with her. “I’m comfortable with it. Although there are some people who are always going to be as impenetrable as iron ore.”

“How many diamonds have you met in your life, as opposed to plain old iron ore?” she asked curiously.

Slade laughed, enjoying her easy acceptance of how he saw the world. “I’ve met many an uncut gemstone in both men and women.”

“And a few iron-ore types?”

“Sometimes. In my business, as you already know, we’re a pretty interesting lot to begin with.”

Cat closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted for no reason.

“Tired?” Slade guessed. “Or bored with this piece of iron ore?”

“You’re hardly iron ore, Slade Donovan. But right now I think I’d better get some sleep before my opinions get me in trouble. I feel so tired all of a sudden.”

“Maybe it’s the company you’ve been keeping.”

“Now, Slade,” she reassured him, her eyes sparkling mischievously, “you’re hardly a bore, and you know it.”

A slow smile touched his strong mouth. “Just wanted to make sure.”

“You’re such an egotist,” Cat said, yawning, and slowly rose, then made her way from the cockpit to the cot in the cabin. Carefully, she lay down on her left side, then closed her eyes and spiraled into sleep.

Chapter Four

T
here was a mild bumping. Cat heard a change in the aircraft’s engines and stirred. She had fallen asleep just as they had flown over Pennsylvania’s border. Now they seemed to be landing. Probably refueling, she thought groggily, closing her eyes once again. With a sigh, she slid back into sleep.

Slade quietly made his way from the cockpit. It was early evening and the shadows were long as the sun edged toward the western horizon. Cat lay on her back, still sleeping soundly. He’d made a feather-light landing, the wheels gently kissing the parched Texas airstrip. Now they were home. Home… The feeling moved powerfully through him as he gazed down at Cat. Yes, they were home.

He approached the cot, noting that Cat’s skin was stretched tautly across her cheekbones and dark shadows lay beneath her thick lashes. It was her mouth, however, that made his body tighten with sudden, almost painful awareness of just how much this woman affected him. He felt the same kind of excitement that thrummed through him when he was close to finding the one rock leading him to a vein of hidden treasure.

Cat was a treasure, Slade had decided. He crouched down, one hand resting near her head and the other on her slender arm. Hungrily, he brought her close to him, breathing in her sweet scent. How vulnerable she was. Leaning over, Slade gently caressed her parted lips with his.

Cat’s lashes fluttered as she felt the warmth and pressure of Slade’s mouth molding to hers. Heat spiraled through her like a ribbon, flooding upward on its dizzying course. Slade’s breath fanned lightly across her cheek. Her heart pounded as his mouth coaxed her lips open, and she responded to him unquestioningly.

The instant Slade felt her returning pressure, his mouth worshipped her as if she were a fragile gift that would shatter if mishandled.

Cat drowned in Slade’s honeyed invitation, her nipples hardening against the confines of her blouse. He was strong and good and tasted wonderful. Her nostrils flared as she drank in the scent of his special blend of male aroma combined with a slight hint of shaving cream.

“Sweet,” he whispered against her wet, responsive lips. “God, you’re sweet emerald fire.”

Cat forced her lashes open, and became hotly aware of the naked desire in Slade’s face. His eyes held her captive with a look that went straight to her heart. This man was supremely confident of his masculinity.

“Did I turn into a frog or something while I slept?” she asked huskily, smiling.

Slade caressed her hair. “Hardly. You’re more like Sleeping Beauty!”