Different Dreams (15 page)

“What a fantastic idea! It works in Japan. They restrict visitors to one area that doesn't interfere with normal troop interaction. We could do the same thing at Los Monos. That way you could generate revenue and we could still keep the troop together.”

“A very nifty plan except for one detail: time. We don't have nearly enough of it. My note is still going to come due at the end of May. The Japanese got their start-up capital in the form of government grants. I don't see Uncle Sam offering to back us on this one, Malou, and there's no way I can currently finance it. So, essentially, we're in the same position we started in—you still need to drum up some grant money.”

Malou nodded, her enthusiasm leaking away. She stood stiffly, putting her glass down. “Well, I guess I'd better go start calling again.”

Cam came around to her side of the desk. “I guess you'd better not.” He twisted his wrist around so that his watch faced Malou. “See, way past five. Wouldn't be anyone in. What you'd better do is come to dinner with me.”

Malou smiled at his goofy tactics, her nameless fears
subsiding in the wake of Cam's easy joviality. “I can't, Cam. I'm not dressed.”

“And you think I am?” he asked, indicating his casual outfit. “I don't patronize restaurants that don't allow women with beautiful legs to show them off in khaki shorts.”

“A wise policy.” Malou smiled in spite of herself and took the arm that Cam held out to her. The receptionist and Cam's other employees had already left for the day, and Cam locked up as they stepped out into the balmy spring evening freshened by a light breeze.

The drive into downtown San Antonio was a short one. They parked near a famous landmark that Malou had been meaning to see but had never quite gotten around to—the Alamo. Its curved outline looked like something out of a myth cutting across the dusky Texas sky. The old mission's grandeur was crowded and reduced, though, by the skyscrapers pressing down upon it. Cam led her to an entrance to the Riverwalk that wound through the city's heart. It was a surprisingly peaceful and lovely refuge. Cam took her hand and they walked in silence beneath the sheltering palms and past riotous displays of flowers at the peak of their springtime splendor. The river flowed past beside them with a sinuous elegance. Both looked around them, commenting on the charm of San Antonio's sights, but both really aware of little beyond the rapturous feel of each other's flesh.

The restaurant Cam took her to was right on the water's edge. The maitre d' greeted Cam with a warm familiarity that ignored trifles like a pair of khaki shorts or the absence of a tie. He led them past high-heeled and jacketed diners to a secluded table on the patio with the river lapping only inches away. A mimosa tree spread a cloud of pink blossoms over their heads that drenched the air with an unearthly fragrance.

“This is lovely,” Malou said, breathing in the pastel scent.

“I was hoping you'd like it.” Cam caught her gaze, and she sank into the drowning warmth of those melting brown eyes.

Cam slid his hand over hers. “So, we're finally together for the first time today.”

She didn't have to ask what he meant. She'd been holding herself aloof from him, from the tumult of her feelings all day. She could no longer deny them. “I guess I've just spent too many years around the lower primates,” she admitted. “I'm not very good at dealing with all the complications of human involvements. My usual reaction is to run away from them.” She gave a dry chuckle, attempting to lighten her confession.

Cam's hand tightened over hers. “Don't do that.”

“I don't want to, Cam. It's just that I'm not used to having my emotions in such a snarl.”

“Mine are pretty snarled up too, Malou. You're not in
this alone. We're not on opposite sides. It's like with the monkey troop. I want you to have what you need.”

“But it might not be in your power to give me what I need.”

“I don't know what that is, Malou, but I'd like to learn.”

Malou felt her hand grow hot beneath Cam's.

A waiter appeared carrying a tray laden with the specialties Cam had ordered. Malou snaked her hand out from under Cam's as the waiter slid artfully arranged plates in front of them.

They both toyed with their meals in silence for a few minutes before Cam spoke again. “I don't want to crowd you, Malou. To frighten you away. Would it help if we took things very slow and easy?”

Malou looked up, the light from the guttering candles catching in her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “That would help a lot.”

Cam sighed and let his fork drop onto his plate, abandoning the pretense of eating. “In that case I'd better see you back to your car while I have a shred of willpower left. If I wait too long, I might not be able to resist trying to convince you to continue where we left off last night.”

Malou nodded, and Cam rose to help her with her chair. “Damn Alexander Graham Bell,” he hissed, referring to the phone call that had interrupted them the evening before.

Full darkness cloaked the city by the time they reached Malou's jeep back at Cam's office. For a moment they both sat, staring silently through the windshield of Cam's Escalade.

“Those things aren't particularly safe, you know,” Cam finally commented, pointing toward the open jeep.

Malou laughed, evincing a quizzical look from Cam. “I'm sorry, it's just hard to take highway safety tips from someone who chronically drives as fast as you do.”

“I'll have you know that it's been nearly three months since I've gotten a speeding ticket.”

“Such restraint.”

“Such restraint, indeed,” Cam echoed, leaning toward Malou. “It's superhuman.” His last words puffed softly against Malou's lips before Cam's covered them. His kiss set Malou's blood to singing as his hand reached out to gently stroke her cheek.

“Restraint. Restraint.” Cam whispered the words, then, with a great effort, obeyed them. He leaned back into his seat, sucked in a deep breath, then hurled himself out his door and came around to open Malou's.

Malou grabbed the few seconds to steady herself, astounded at how one glancing kiss could so rock her equilibrium. She had to get back to Los Monos. Quickly. Had to get away from Cam, from the uncontrollable power of her attraction to him.

“Your coach, m'lady.” Cam took her arm and handed
her back into the dusty jeep. She smiled tightly. Fighting the urge to wrap her arms around his strong shoulders, to feel the caress of his hair against her palms, she gripped the jeep's steering wheel. She fished the key out of her purse, jammed it into the ignition, and turned. All her movements felt wooden and awkward beneath Cam's unwavering gaze. A dull grind issued from somewhere under the hood. Cam cocked his head toward the abnormal sound. She clicked the key off and her smile tightened even further.

“The battery's just cold,” she explained, something like panic pushing up her pulse. She knew she had to get away from Cameron Landell tonight or surrender to the power he exerted over her.

“Cold battery,” he repeated with a sage nod.

She made sure the lights and windshield wipers were off, then tried again. Again the dull grind answered her effort. She pumped the accelerator pedal.

“Bum alternator.” Cam pronounced his diagnosis just as the engine sputtered resentfully to life.

Malou smiled with relief.

“You won't make it out of the driveway,” Cam predicted.

“And just what crystal ball is giving you this great insight into auto mechanics?” Malou asked teasingly, relieved now that the jeep was running and her escape was secure.

“No crystal ball. I just know a bit about cars. Another symptom of my misspent youth. As soon as you turn on your headlights, the engine'll die.”

Malou smiled at his jest, flipped the headlight switch, and heard the engine rumble twice, then die. Malou whacked her palm against the steering wheel. “You did that, didn't you?” she shot at Cam, who was looking impossibly innocent.

“You're so cute when you're irrational. I just diagnosed the disease; I didn't cause it.”

“Well, how do I cure it? Tonight!”

“Tonight you don't. But first thing tomorrow I can have someone out here. In the meantime, fate forces us together. Let's enjoy it.”

“No.” Her answer was too quick, too anxious. The playfulness drained from Cam's face. “No, I . . . I have to get back to Los Monos. Ernie . . . I've left Ernie by himself too much lately. And Bambi, the baby, I have to see if Tulip is taking care of her. I . . .” She ran out of excuses. “I have to go home.”

Cam saw through her excuses and into the heart of her final, plaintive appeal. He was startled, and a tiny bit wounded, by what he saw—fear. “I'll take you,” he offered. “Tonight. Right now.”

The cornered panic that had swept over Malou subsided, leaving her feeling foolish and exposed. She laughed feebly, hoping to pass the whole episode off as a
weak joke. But the honest concern in Cam's eyes did not disappear with her laughter. He understood. “Thanks,” she said simply, getting out of the jeep. “I'd appreciate that.”

* * *

The lights of San Antonio had given way to an immensity of darkness pricked only by the pinpoint brilliance of stars a galaxy away before Malou fully relaxed against the pewter leather car seats.

“Nice night for a drive.”

Malou was touched by Cam's sweetly clichéd effort to break the ice between them. “I'm sure that a drive down to a monkey ranch you never wanted to own is just what you wanted to do tonight.”

Cam smiled, happy to see that the tension that had held Malou rigid since the jeep had failed was relaxing. “You're too perceptive,” he teased. “But, if it's important to you to get back to the station, it's important to me too. I told you before, we're on the same side in this.”

Without thinking, Malou covered Cam's hand on the gearshift with her own in a gesture that she had intended to show gratitude. It turned instantly into something far more. Cam pivoted his hand beneath hers until their palms touched. The gesture had more intimacy than Malou had known through entire affairs with other men. Affairs in which she had always been the one to set the tempo, to initiate and to stop the flow of events. She had
always been the one with the control. Now, just the merest touch of Cam's palm against her own reminded her just how far out of her control her feelings for him were. She withdrew her hand.

“So, you never told me if you worked out an agreement with the protesters.” Her voice sounded abrupt and artificial, shattering the crystalline moment beginning to enclose them.

Cam sighed and flipped his hand over onto the gearshift, tightening it as he rammed the car into a higher gear. “We reached an agreement,” he answered flatly.

“A ‘no-losers-no-tears' agreement?” She tried to lighten the pall she had cast.

“It was the agreement I'd planned to propose all along. Once they stopped trying to grab headlines long enough to come in and talk with me about it, they were delighted.”

“What are you proposing?”

Almost against his will, enthusiasm for his work caught Cam and his voice took back its customary animation. “To establish a greenbelt area, a long, thick stand of junipers, where the birds they're trying to protect usually nest.”

“That's wonderful! What an admirable thing for you to do.”

“Hey, before you make me patron saint of the Audubon Society, let me point out that this greenbelt will
enhance property values and buy me a lot of goodwill to boot.”

“Yeah, but you still didn't have to do it.”

“You're right. I will accept canonization,” Cam bantered. “I just hope your buddy, Ernie, doesn't have the deciding vote. What does the guy have against me, anyway?”

“He's just upset about the possibility of the troop being broken up, and it's made him suspicious of everything in general and you in particular.”

“I picked up on at least one of those suspicions. What else has he accused me of?”

“Nothing. It's silly.”

“Tell me, Malou. I want to know if there's a whispering campaign going on behind my back, particularly if you're the prime target.”

“It's really nothing. He just mentioned that it seemed awfully odd that you didn't know where the main house was.”

They drove in silence past the ghostly outlines of cattle sleeping on their feet and a windmill slicing the night air. Cam's voice was strained when he finally spoke. “And you think it's fairly strange too, don't you?”

“Well . . .”

“The thought did cross your mind.”

Malou could not deny that it had. Outside, the countryside began yielding a few familiar landmarks; they
were nearing Los Monos. An unbearable tension had gripped the car. Malou could feel Cam straining to keep a volcano of emotion dammed up within him. They passed the wrought-iron gate that marked the road leading to the main house and drove on. Malou feared that Cam would deposit her at Los Monos without breaking the angry silence. But, at the entrance to the stone house, Cam pulled the Escalade off the road and came to rest beneath Stallings's age-weathered lazy S. He turned the motor off and turned to Malou.

“What you're implying, then,” he said, his jaw tight with anger, “is that I deliberately took you down this road with the sole intention of seducing you.”

“No, I . . .” Malou stammered.

“No is the correct answer, Mary Louise Sanders. Because, had I intended to seduce you, I would have told you so. Just as I'm going to do now. Malou, I want to make love to you. Tonight. More than I've ever wanted any single thing in my life and you're a fool if you put me off because I'll not try again.”

Malou looked at Cam illuminated by the dim glow of the dashboard lights. His face was a mask of intensity, of desire translated into smoldering eyes, a rapacious mouth. She felt herself teetering on the edge. Behind her was a wide, flat plain. A known plateau uninterrupted by any unexpected bumps or turns. A terrain of vast and unlimited boredom that was her emotional past and would
be her future if she chose it to be. Ahead was a precipice. A place shrouded by mist, impenetrably dark and, for now, unknowable. Choice lay before her. Malou knew with a bone-deep certainty that this moment would come only once in her life. She swallowed deeply and mentally swatted away the million and one reasons that tugged at her, dragging her back onto the flat plain of reason. She grabbed for the slender vine of passion that twisted through her and swung over the edge.