Showdown at Lizard Rock

“What do you mean, she’s naked?” King Vandergriff asked incredulously as he braked his Jeep in a swirl of red Georgia dust. He vaulted to the ground before the motor died and started walking, leaving his construction foreman, Mac Webster, trailing behind.

“Well, she might as well be naked!” Mac exclaimed. “All she’s wearing is some kind of see-through robe straight out of Frederick’s of Hollywood!”

King strode toward the huge, oddly shaped rock in the distance. A stunned group of construction workers and local residents were gathered around it. Mac caught up with King, fell into step beside him, and pointed at the rock.

“She’s up there,” he said breathlessly.

King’s eyes narrowed with annoyance as he surveyed the scene. Having locals here to gawk at the woman’s stunt was bad enough, but even worse was the fact that Vandergriff money was paying construction workers to stand absolutely still, with their
eyes glued to the woman atop Lizard Rock. The rock was appropriately named, because it looked just like a giant, slumbering reptile.

“How’d she get up there?” King demanded.

“I don’t know. All of a sudden she just appeared out of nowhere and began to climb.”

“Damn! They warned me about her.” King took his hat off and swatted it impatiently against one muscled thigh. The last thing he needed on this project was some kind of eccentric, do-gooding protestor running around the construction site. He swore under his breath and ran a hand through his hair.

From her spot atop Lizard Rock, Kaylyn Smith watched the two newcomers. The blond giant mauling the tan Stetson had to be King Vandergriff. He was at least a foot taller than his companion, and he moved with the strong, easy stride of a man who knew who he was and where he was going. There was a damn-the-torpedoes, full-speed-ahead look about him.

Good, she thought. She liked men of action, especially when they were overconfident and belligerent. It made knocking them down a notch or two so much more interesting. And from what she’d heard, this man needed knocking down. She intended to win no matter what, but winning was a lot more fun when the opponent was a challenge.

As Luther Peavey back at the nursing home would say, she’d “caught a live one.”

“Hey, boss, we got ourselves Spiderwoman!” one worker called to King.

“That’s not Spiderwoman,” one of the locals corrected him crossly. “That’s Katie Smith, the recreation director at the senior citizens’ home. And you’d
better be careful, or she’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

“Yeah,” another agreed. “She’s one tough lady.”

“Senior citizens’ home?” another worker yelled. “You’re kidding! She can’t be more than twenty-five!”

“If that’s what’s waiting for me at the old folks’ home,” a paunchy driver volunteered from the cab of his bulldozer, “call the ambulance. I’m ready to go.”

King ignored the rest of his workers’ jokes as he made his way to the rock. While he decided on a course of action he deliberately avoided looking up at the woman who had commandeered the rock.
His
rock, dammit.

Publicity he needed, but not this. He knew who she was. He’d been warned about Kaylyn Smith’s opposition to his plans for Lizard Rock and Pretty Springs. He’d also been warned about Kaylyn Smith’s incredible beauty.

The body of Wonder Woman, the face of Helen of Troy, and the tenacity of a bulldog. That description of her still echoed in his mind from the previous day at City Hall. Half the city employees—the male half—had spoken of Kaylyn with admiration bordering on worship. The day before that, King had watched men at the county zoning office react with similar sighing devotion when Kaylyn’s name was mentioned. All right, so she was some sort of goddess. But what did that fool woman expect to accomplish by taking up residence on his rock?

“She sure is pretty,” Mac said.

As they crossed the last few yards King scowled, still refusing to look up at the object of Mac’s compliment.
“Any half-dressed woman is interesting,” he retorted.

“Take a close gander for yourself, boss.”

King stopped at the rock’s base and squinted upward. His mouth fell open. The men at the county offices had not been wrong. This woman was Cleopatra, Bathsheba, and Lady Godiva rolled into one. Kaylyn Smith had gorgeous legs, golden skin, and an old-world, fragile beauty that would have prompted knights to slay dragons. She wasn’t nude, but the hint of what lay beneath the flesh-toned wraparound she wore was more erotic than bare skin ever could have been.

She untied the robe. The crowd gasped, then was silent. Sitting securely on the back of the lizard-shaped rock and staring down at King with determination, she slowly slid her arms out of the revealing garment. As the silk wraparound slithered down, she arranged the long strands of her flaxen hair in a fan across her breasts and back. The wrap pooled around her hips. In her hand was a shiny new steel chain. It trailed across her knees and out of sight down the back side of the rock.

Kaylyn swept the group of men below with a cool gaze. She paused for a triumphant moment before she took the robe in one hand, held it out, and let it fall.

A sharp breeze caught the gauzy fabric and lifted it in the air. Like a flesh-colored parachute, it floated majestically downward, coming to rest like a challenge at King’s feet.

“How dramatic,” he said sardonically. He ignored both the robe and the goggle-eyed workers as he held out his hands, palms up, in a gesture of supplication.
This was going to take some careful diplomacy, he thought. “I’m King Vandergriff,” he called up to her. “Will you please come down?”

“Why?” She leaned forward to peer at him over the edge of the rock. A gust of wind swung her hair away from her body.

For a second King felt his chest constrict. The woman was truly magnificent. She wasn’t totally nude under all that hair, but the tiny bikini she wore was only a heartbeat away from it.

“Come down,” he ordered.

“Why?” she repeated as she smoothed her hair back into place.

“Because I want to talk to you.”

“You do?” Her voice held a note of teasing seduction, a lulling invitation to come closer. “You haven’t wanted to talk to me for the last three weeks. I’ve left fourteen messages with your secretary, and you haven’t responded to one of them! Pity. A professional conference would have been so much easier on both of us.”

The wind tugged devilishly at her hair, tempting his gaze. A shiver raced through him, and it was all he could do to keep his mind on the problem at hand. That was exactly the effect she wanted to have on his concentration, he realized.

“I’ve been very busy, Ms. Smith,” he said in a placating voice.

“So you know my name.” Kaylyn hadn’t really gotten a good look at her adversary yet. She shifted her position so she could see him without leaning.

“I know your name. Everybody in the county has warned me that you’re my sworn enemy. Would you care to explain just why I’m on your hit list?”

“Because you charmed the city council into giving their approval to your plan. You’re going to close off the springs and destroy the Lizard—all for the sake of a tennis and golf club with a membership fee so high that none of our locals could afford it if they wanted to. I can’t let you do that.”

She turned the full force of her disapproval on him, giving him a slow once-over, and almost lost her balance—in more ways than one. She put both hands on Lizard Rock and braced herself. Amazing, she thought. King Vandergriff was amazing.

The mayor had said he was in his mid thirties and was from Texas by way of Denver. Either way he was one of those rare men who looked as if he’d been born to wear a Stetson. His tan boots had been made from some unfortunate reptile, and his red-and-tan plaid shirt couldn’t begin to camouflage his firm, muscular chest. This was no urbanite masquerading as a cowboy. He was the real thing.

Back in the heyday of the movie Westerns, King Vandergriff would have been a star in the rugged-idol roles. All he needed was a bandana tied around his neck, a bowie knife, and a horse.

Kaylyn gulped nervously. Lady Godiva hadn’t expected a confrontation with John Wayne.

But it wasn’t just Vandergriff’s awesome physical appearance that made her breath pull short. It was his aura of command and his searing gaze. When he looked up at her in the bright, early-summer sunshine, he didn’t even squint.

He was a honey-toned savage in white man’s clothing, a smiling, hawk-faced man with hair the color of a palomino. That hair had been casually layered
in a style designed to make grown women kill to run their fingers through it.

He looked like the kind of man who lived well and played hard. Kaylyn didn’t need a degree in male hormone reaction to realize he hadn’t played alone, either. She didn’t know how long he and she stared at each other, but when he spoke, she felt as if she were coming out of a deep reverie.

“You arranged this little showdown to get my attention. Well, you have it.”

“Good!” she said. “That was the point.”

“And what’s the point of this little show?”

“If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, Mohammed has to come to the mountain, or, to be more accurate, to the rock.” Kaylyn winced a little as she analyzed her analogy, realizing it made no sense.

He smiled drolly. “Well, I hope you’re enjoying your little sit-in, because you’re welcome to the rock. You aren’t getting in anybody’s way up there.”

“Oh, but I intend to.” She held up the chain, nodded at its open padlock, and smiled. “I’m going to snap this lock shut. That ought to hold me until the reporters get here.”

“Reporters?” He groaned inwardly. “Tell me you didn’t call the media, Ms. Smith.”

“Oh, yes. I didn’t want anybody to miss out on our little conference. I believe in the sunshine law, you know. The one that says that all official meetings are open to the world.”

“That isn’t the only thing open to the world,” he said wryly. “Aren’t you afraid of catching cold?”

“Not at all. I’m very comfortable. What about you? Isn’t it a little warm for a hat and a jacket? Or are
they a necessary part of the greedy entrepreneur image?”

“Boss,” Mac said under his breath, “we’d better get her down before somebody on the highway notices what’s going on. Otherwise you’ll have the rest of the county here.”

King held up a blunt, work-scarred hand and pointed at her. “You’re trespassing, Ms. Smith. I am the legal owner of this property now, and if you don’t come down peacefully, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”