Prologue
The airplane trip to Arkansas seemed like an opportunity to catch up on reading,
but his mind kept drifting away from the book.
Ahead of him lay four weeks of
uncharted business. He’d never done anything like this and felt uncomfortable about it.
He felt most comfortable in the outdoors, but who could earn a living tromping through
the mountains? He had invested so much already. It was probably safe to say the rest
of his life depended heavily on how he handled things from this point on. Everything
he did and said during this endeavor would be under scrutiny. He touched his jacket
and felt the information on the cabin in his inside pocket. Ordinarily he’d feel guilty
about deception, but in this case the ends did justify the means. She’d probably never
know and she needed the help – even if she didn’t see it that way. Those who loved
her did. Regardless, he had given his word and no matter how it came out, there was
no turning back at this point.
He glanced up and met the verde gaze of the redhead again. Something about
the way she impulsively returned his smile and then diffidently looked away tugged at
his heart.
She wasn’t beautiful, but she was very attractive. The freckles sprinkled
over that upturned nose gave her a youthful look, though he guessed her to be nearer
his age.
He tried to focus on the book again, but after a few minutes something compelled
him to look at her. She was watching him again. The intensity in her gaze faltered and
she looked away again. One word crossed his mind – lonely. Was she, and would
she be willing to spend a little time with a stranger? He would have more spare time in
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A Tutelarius Love
the next few weeks than he had ever had on a job. What was he thinking? He was a
complete stranger.
He closed the book and gazed out the window. There was nothing to see at this
altitude, but he wasn’t seeing anything in the book anyway. Maybe the loneliness he
saw in her eyes was merely a reflection.
He hadn’t realized how important a mother
could be in a grown man’s life until she died last year. It seemed that recently all his
father talked about was his days in the service. Maybe that was his way of coping with
the loss of his wife. He hated to leave him, but it was time to move on. It was time for
him to make his own mark on the world – settle down with some nice girl and raise a
family like his father had. That was a tall order for a man who didn’t even have a
steady girlfriend. The truth was, he hadn’t been all that interested in any he’d met so
far. His father was right. He was too selective. What he wanted was a woman with
yesterday’s morals and today’s savvy – someone both passionate and honorable.
Unable to resist one last look, he found the girl talking to the lady in the seat
beside her. Did they know each other? Not that it mattered.
The girl glanced up and found him watching her again. His interest was obvious,
so he merely smiled. Her smile was sweet and a little shy. The idea that a woman as
poised as she was could be shy was amusing.
He sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Maybe someone would
come along and make him forget about the things he thought a woman should be.
Right now he’d best focus on the job ahead and forget about things like that.
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3
Chapter One
Megan tossed the ashes, tray and all, into the trash can beside her desk. The
copper tray hit the bottom of the can with a loud clatter, spewing ashes into the stale
office air. The acrid smell of cigarette ashes burned her nose and brought tears to her
eyes. She stifled a sneeze with an index finger under her nose and gave Mr. O’Hara a
disgusted look.
“I can hardly wait until they ban those filthy things,” she snapped. “Why anyone
would cultivate that nasty habit is a mystery to me. It yellows their teeth, makes their
breath smell like a trash can, and ruins their health. Can you believe he drug out that
box of cancer sticks while we were discussing the sale of natural foods? I . . .”
The burning returned with a vengeance, expelling her breath in an uncontrollable
sneeze. She snatched a tissue from the jeweled box on her desk and buried her nose
into its softness.
Mr. O’Hara seized the opportunity to speak.
“He asked if he could smoke. Why didn’t you say no?”
She blew her nose and threw the tissue in the trash.
“He was already lighting up when he asked. What could I do without making a
scene in front of our customers?”
Allergy was a small part of her frustration, and the cigarette issue was nothing
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more than a smoke screen. He would have to be a fool not to know that something
had been eating at her for the last few months - and Mr. O’Hara didn’t become a
tycoon by being a fool. If she had an ounce of courage, she’d tell him now and get it
over with. But fear of seeing disappointment in the eyes of her mentor kept her silent.
Mr. O’Hara was pacing like a caged lion. He ran a powerful hand through thick
hair that still held a touch of red. Did he suspect her problem? Maybe now was the
time to discuss it with him. She sank into the softness of her leather chair. Where to
begin? It was bound to break his heart.
His commanding voice broke through her thoughts.
“Why did you have that fancy ash tray on your desk if you didn’t want anyone to
smoke?”
She glanced up sharply, but his terse tone and sober expression were belied by
the twinkle in those gray-green eyes.
“Maybe you should put it on my desk,” he concluded, folding muscular arms
across his chest and gazing down at her fondly.
She lifted a stack of papers and straightened them with a sharp rap on her
mahogany desktop, deliberately ignoring his empty invitation.
“I don’t care if people smoke, but I wish they’d respect the fact that I don’t want to
smoke. If they can figure a way to smoke without getting it in my eyes and lungs, they
can smoke themselves to death for all I care.”
“Maybe you should have told him that. I’m sure he would have found it more
amusing than the look on your face.”
She stared at him. “Was it that obvious?”
“It was to me, but . . .” He shrugged and turned his palms up. “Who cares? It
certainly didn’t stop him from puffing away.”
She made a face. “I know. I think the smoke bothered Mr. Louden too. It seems
counterproductive to have people like that representing us. How can he establish
authenticity selling health products while he’s smoking those things?” She fanned the
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
5
air with her hand. “Look at this room.”
Mr. O’Hara glanced around the hazy room and quirked a silver brow.
“Looks like you’ve got an open window somewhere.”
Today she was in no mood to enjoy his offbeat brand of humor. When she shot
him a warning glance he chuckled.
“Henry is a good salesman and you know it. I’ve never seen you carry on so
much about someone smoking. Has he done something else to upset you?”
“Of course not.” Her answer came swift and positive. The last thing she wanted
to do was get Henry into trouble with his boss. She might derive some pleasure out of
seeing him squirm under the thumb of one of his victims, but he was a good salesman
and he deserved credit for that much. In any case, even if Henry had offended her
personally, she wouldn’t have run to Daddy about it.
She sighed. “You’re right. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. I don’t know
what’s gotten into me lately.”
Mr. O’Hara stooped and removed the brass ashtray from the trashcan. “I’ll put
this on the table outside your door. Maybe he’ll take the hint next time.” He winked.
“In the mean time, you’d better calm down. If you let such minor things upset you,
you’ll have a stroke before you reach twenty-five.”
He was joking, of course. Tonight her parents were throwing her a twenty-fifth
birthday party. She let out a long breath and slumped in her chair. Tonight she would
tell him. She couldn’t hide it much longer anyway. Even now he probably suspected.
Mr. O’Hara slid a leg over the corner of her desk and folded his arms across his
chest.
“Now, tell me what’s really bothering you. Are you getting cold feet?”
She straightened in her chair, her face growing warm.
“No, well, yes . . . in a way.”
Now was the perfect opportunity to get it off her chest, and yet, all she could do
was stutter.
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A Tutelarius Love
He leaned forward and patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Everybody gets a little
nervous as the wedding date approaches. Marriage is a big step. Which reminds me have you set a date yet?”
She absently plucked at a thread on the hem of her skirt, avoiding his eager
gaze.
“Not yet.”
“What’s he waiting for?”
She glanced up and tried to look determined.
“What’s the rush?”
For a moment he held her gaze, his expression unreadable. Finally he slid his
leg off the desk and resumed the pacing; his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
After a few moments of silence, he stopped and stared at her again.
“You seem . . . restless lately.”
Restless was exactly the way she felt. Again he had the door open, waiting for
her to confess. Again she sidestepped that issue and lunged into another.
“I’m twenty-five years old and you’re still fussing over me. I feel like I’ve been on
my first solo flight for the last three years, but I can’t seem to get my wheels off the
runway.”
He grimaced. “That again? You earned this job. I didn’t hand it to you because
you’re my daughter. You’re the best advertising executive this company has ever had.
Have a little faith in yourself.”
The diversion was successful, but the new subject was almost as sensitive.
Lately she had been wondering if she could have landed such a job without his help.
His secretary had certainly been acting like she thought so. She shook her head.
“Tell Clarissa that.”
His expression became stern. “I’ve told Clarissa. She doesn’t seem to be as
concerned about the idea as you are. I think you’re imagining things.”
It was pointless to argue the matter. Maybe it was merely a personality conflict
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
7
with his secretary. Regardless, Clarissa’s sugar coated barbs hit their mark all too
often. Of course, Clarissa was careful about what she said in front of the boss. Mr.
O’Hara wouldn’t tolerate discord in the office.
She shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. I shouldn’t blame my rebellious moods on
other people. I need to get my act together and take charge of my life.”
Mr. O’Hara sighed and nodded. “What you need is a husband. Once you’re
married . . .”
His remark punctured a hole in her thin armor and she exploded, slamming the
papers onto her desktop so hard that one of the pages floated to the floor.
“Why?” she snarled. “To provide you with an heir - or to keep me in line?”
His expression never changed. He stooped and retrieved the page, carefully
placing it on top of the stack before he met her gaze.
Probably counting to ten . . .
something she should have tried. When he finally spoke, his voice was controlled.
“You could do a lot worse than Denton. He’s already an important figure in the
state of California.” His gaze probed at the remote areas of her mind. “Some say he’s
bound for Governor, maybe even the presidency.”
She nibbled on her lower lip. She could hardly point a finger at him for being an
opportunist. All those things had impressed her as well - at first. At first she had been
infatuated with Denton, but in the last year she had learned a lot about him. Enough to
know his proposal of marriage was purely business. Enough to know their marriage
would be a mistake. But how could she tell her father? He would be crushed. And so
she sidestepped the issue again.
“You’re beginning to sound like Denton. Do you think money and title are the
only reasons to marry?”
He frowned. “Of course not. You two have a lot in common.”
“A lot in common?” She gasped. “Dad, the only thing Denton and I have in
common is that we’re both Homo Sapiens.”
He shook his head, his gaze taking on a wizened look.
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A Tutelarius Love
“I can see what you’re leading up to. Before you do something you’ll regret, why
don’t you take some time off and relax? Get away from all of this. Go out to the beach
and soak up some sun. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard and it’s all catching up
with you.”
She made a face again. “All I get out of a day at the beach any more is more
freckles.”
He grinned. “They look cute sprinkled over that little turned up nose. People
with green eyes and red hair are supposed to have freckles.”
“Oh Dad, I’m not a little girl any more.
I can’t run to the beach every time
something isn’t going my way.”
He heaved a sigh and threw his hands into the air in defeat. At the door he
paused with his hand on the knob, his tone once again authoritative. “Take some time
off. That’s an order.”
But time off work wasn’t going to solve her problem.
“What about the Louden account?” She shot back at him before he could get out
the door.
He paused, giving her an exasperated look.
“Clarissa can handle that. She was handling things before you came along.
That’s the trouble with you young people. You glorify your education. There’s a lot to
be said for experience.”
Again he started through the door and spoke over his
shoulder.
“Don’t forget - seven, sharp.”
She stared at the closed door. What had happened between them? There used
to be nothing they couldn’t discuss. In fact, her trust in him had been so complete that
she had allowed him to make nearly every important decision in her life - until now. If
Denton hadn’t come along, would she still be blissfully letting her father run her life?
The room was stuffy and the smell of cigarette smoke still lingered.
She
switched off her computer and tucked some papers into a desk drawer. Even the
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
9
smoggy Los Angeles air outside had to be better than the stale air in the office. She
opened the mini blinds and looked down at the busy city six stories below. Something
lonely plucked at her consciousness. Could a man fill that void? Certainly not Denton.
Denton might have a lot of girls fooled, but she knew him too well. The woman he
married would have to pattern her life to the fickle fate of politics. The last thing
Denton needed was a fiery redhead with a tendency to speak her mind. The only thing
she had to offer him was an influential father-in-law. Even Denton didn’t know she
wouldn’t inherit her part of the O’Hara fortune until she was married and produced an
heir. Maybe it was deceptive to keep it a secret, but if he was marrying her for love, it
wouldn’t make any difference. The stipulation on the passage of the money was fine
with her. It wasn’t her money and she hadn’t played any part in building the fortune.
Mr. O’Hara could push all he wanted, but marriage and a baby would come at her
pace, not his.
The last part she had decided only in the last few weeks, but so far she hadn’t
found the opportune time to tell either her father or Denton. She sighed as she closed
the blinds and drew the drapes. It was time to break the engagement. There was no
purpose in delaying the unpleasant chore.
marriage was off.
It wouldn’t be easy to tell Denton the
He was tenacious. What Denton wanted, he got - one way or
another, and lately he seemed driven by some inner demon.
She squared her shoulders.
The time to take control of her life was long
overdue. Tonight she would break the engagement with Denton . . . then she would
face her father.
The decision made, she marched from the room and locked her office door. The
lobby was a mess, with magazines and newspaper pages scattered over several
chairs. Clarissa must have had to leave early. She gathered the magazines, stacking
them on a table, and disposed of the newspaper. As she tossed the paper into the
trash, a phrase caught her eye and she retrieved that page.
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A Tutelarius Love
“Solitude in the Natural State. Vintage cabin on 40 acres of
secluded land near Huntsville, Arkansas.
Spring fed well.
$30,000.00”
She laughed without humor and crammed the paper into the trash can. Probably
some run down shack without electricity or running water - and how much of the 40
acres was vertical? She flipped the light off and locked the door.
She glanced at her watch as the elevator doors opened . . . five-thirty. Thirty
minutes to get to her apartment; an hour to get ready - no, better make it thirty minutes,
and then another half-hour to get to her parent’s house. That was cutting it close.
She pulled into the large circular drive at exactly seven.
Several cars were
already parked beside the walkway, though the party didn’t officially start until seven
thirty. She parked her gray Thunderbird behind Denton’s bright red sports car and
climbed the steps to the porch.
Denton met her at the door, smiling as though she were the only person on his
mind. He was going to make a good politician.
“Beautiful,” he announced as he twirled her around. The mint colored sundress
flared out from its slim waistband as she moved. His eyes reflected disappointment,
but the smile plastered on his darkly handsome face never faltered. Obviously he
thought her manner of dress was too casual. Some of the guests might be important
to his future in politics and he was dressed to impress. His dark suit was inappropriate
for the casual atmosphere, but she had to admit that he looked dashing. Denton was
fastidious about his appearance and he expected the woman at his side to mirror that
image.
A familiar voice boomed from the kitchen doorway.
“There’s the birthday girl.”
A tall balding figure moved into the room.
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11
Megan grasped the opportunity to move away from Denton.
“Uncle Guthrie. When did you get in? I thought you were in Europe.”
“You don’t think I’d miss my favorite niece’s birthday party do you?”
His one blue eye twinkled and the patch over the other served as a perpetual
wink - which was fitting.
“I’m your only niece,” she corrected.
“Then you’d have to be my favorite.”
“And that would make you my favorite uncle.”
He gave her a bear hug and turned his attention to Denton.
“Haven’t you two set a date, yet?”
Her cheeks felt warm. “Why is everybody in such a rush to get me married off?”
He threw his head back and laughed.
“Maybe you look entirely too happy.”
She tipped her head to the side and regarded him reproachfully.
“You were happy with Aunt Ida.”
His expression became wistful. “Yes. God rest her soul, she was a wonderful
wife. She would have been a terrific mother too, but I guess it wasn’t in the plans.”
The twinkle came back in his eye. “Must be something about us O’Hara’s. All
we’ve been able to produce since we came to America is one scrawny little girl. When
are you going to make me a great uncle?”
She opened her mouth to give him a smart reply, but Denton gripped her elbow.
“I’m afraid children aren’t in our plans for a while.”
He ushered her away from a startled Uncle Guthrie to greet some newly arrived
guests. He probably thought he was rescuing her. Denton could lay on the charm
when he wanted to, but his sense of humor needed improvement. She scowled up at
his handsome profile and squirmed from his grip.
“What plans? We haven’t made any plans.”
He spoke in a low voice. “Let’s not argue right now.” He reclaimed her elbow
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sternly. “We’ll talk about it later.” He smiled graciously as he greeted Judge Riley and
his wife.
Megan forced the anger to the back of her mind and greeted the couple warmly.
Once again someone was making decisions that shaped her life . . . without
consideration for her plans. Yes, they would talk later, but this time he would have to
listen.
Denton kept her busy welcoming guests until Clarissa arrived. The blond man at
Clarissa’s side looked familiar, but the name gave no clue to where she might have
seen him. Not that Denton would have remembered right now, anyway. He was
seeing no one but Clarissa at the moment. Now would be a good time to escape.
She excused herself, claiming she was needed in the kitchen. It was a wellknown fact that Mrs. O’Hara would never surrender her kitchen to a maid, so the alibi
passed as genuine.
Mrs. O’Hara glanced up when Megan entered.
“The cake is ready and the candles are on the counter over there.”
Megan picked up the candles and began methodically poking them in the cake.
“I must be getting too old to do this. I don’t think there’s enough room on the
cake for twenty-five candles.”
Mrs. O’Hara laughed. “You’ve been doing it every year since you were two years
old. I suppose it’s getting a little embarrassing now. That cake is going to look like a
porcupine.”
Megan stepped back and studied the cake. “Why don’t we use one candle for
every five years?”
“Go ahead. I’m sure you’re in a hurry to get back out to Denton.”
Megan rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Denton won’t miss me now. Clarissa is here.”
“Megan!” Mrs. O’Hara gasped. “What a thing to say!”
Megan shrugged. “It’s true. Dad’s so set on having him for a son-in-law that he
doesn’t even notice. Haven’t you noticed?”
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
13
Mrs. O’Hara avoided Megan’s gaze. “Now, Megan. Jealousy doesn’t become
you, honey.”
Megan groaned. “I’m not jealous. She can have him. In fact, I think they’d make
a perfect couple.”
She put the last candle in the cake and glanced up at her mother’s startled face.
Mrs. O’Hara absently centered the cake on the table.
“I think you’re imagining things. Denton is crazy about you.” She frowned. “In
any case, don’t let your father hear you talking like that. He’d be terribly upset.”
“Father isn’t marrying Denton . . .” she paused. “And neither am I.”
Mrs. O’Hara regarded her daughter with troubled eyes.
Somehow she didn’t
seem surprised.
“Does Denton know that?”
“He will,” she answered trying to sound confident. “I’m going to tell him tonight.”
Mrs. O’Hara let out a long sigh. “You’re much too independent. You’re never
going to find a man.”
Megan shrugged. “Then I’ll stay single. What’s so terrible about that? I’ve gone
from Dad to Denton. It would be nice if I could make the decisions that affect my
future, for once.”
Mrs. O’Hara eyed her thoughtfully. “Don’t burn your bridges behind you. Denton
is going places.
When you’re my age you’ll wish you had taken his proposal of
marriage more seriously.”
Megan bit her tongue.
Obviously Mom had joined the ranks of those who
thought marrying Denton was the only way she could live up to the O’Hara name. Why
the competition? Would it be so terrible if she never acquired a fortune? Money
couldn’t buy happiness. Of course, it didn’t prohibit it either. Hadn’t she been happy . .
. until now?
On the verandah, soft music was playing and several couples were dancing.
One of the couples was Denton and Clarissa. They moved as one with the music and
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it struck her again that they were made for each other. She glanced around and saw
Clarissa’s date sitting alone near the entrance to the garden. Megan shook her head.
It was no consolation that she wasn’t the only one being used.
The man stood and smiled as she approached. “Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you.” She leaned her back against a pillar and looked up at him. “You
look familiar. Have I met you before?”
“Possibly. The name is Scott Muldrow.” He offered a hand. “I work at the real
estate office downstairs from your suite. I’ve seen you in the elevator a few times.”
She shook his hand. “Oh, yes. I remember. As a matter of fact, I think I saw
one of your listings in the newspaper tonight.”
“Are you and Denton looking for a house?”
“No.”
Why didn’t anyone notice the coolness between them? Everyone assumed their
wedding date would be announced any time now. She tucked the minor annoyance to
the back of her mind.
“I was picking up papers in the lobby and happened to notice the article. It was
something about some land in Arkansas.”
“Oh yes - a new listing. A couple moved out here and listed it for sale. I told
them they would be better off listing it in an Arkansas paper. To tell you the truth, I
think they’re a little reluctant to sell it.”
“Overpriced?”
“No, it’s not a bad deal. “I understand it’s been in the family for a long time. I
advised them to lease it for a while before they made up their mind.” He cocked his
head to the side and winked. “It would make a great honeymoon cabin.”
“Isolated?” She was half listening to him while she watched Denton reluctantly
leave Clarissa and glance around the crowd.
Megan stepped off the verandah onto a walkway that led through the garden.
Let him look.
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15
The agent followed her. “I even considered buying it and renting it out. It would
be perfect hideaway - old log cabin in excellent condition - breathtaking scenery.”
“You’ve been there?”
“No, I just saw the pictures. The owners said there were wild plum and cherry
trees, all kinds of nuts and berries - a regular gold mine of natural food. They call it the
Natural State, you know. Clean air, clear water.”
“Sounds like a great retreat.”
Denton had spotted them. Megan stepped forward and the heel of her sandal
sank into a seam in the walkway. Pain shot through her ankle and her knees buckled.
She had a brief view of Denton’s face before her own plunged into the agent’s chest.
His strong arms caught her. She clung to him as she scrambled to regain her footing.
Shifting her weight off the injured ankle, she pushed away from him.
Denton scowled at her as he stopped beside them. It must have looked anything
but innocent.
“Mr. Muldrow. I’d appreciate it if you’d take your hands off my fiancé.
Muldrow’s neck turned read and his eyes bugged out. “I wasn’t . . . she fell and I
. . .”
Denton turned the scowl on him. “Never mind. Just leave us alone.”
The agent scurried away and Denton immediately turned on her.
“Really, Megan. Out here in the bushes with a man you just met. What’s wrong
with you? Have you forgotten you’re engaged to me?”
She frowned up at him. “I twisted my ankle and fell. He caught me. That’s all
there was to it.”
He took her elbow and led her back toward the verandah.
“What were you doing out here in the dark with him anyway? What would people
think?”
He didn’t even care about her ankle. She jerked her arm away. “Frankly, I don’t
care what people think.”
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His jaw tightened and his voice was low and threatening.
“You’re going to have to learn to care if you want to be my wife.”
“I don’t want to be your wife.” As soon as the words left her mouth she wished
she had been more artful. It wasn’t how she had planned to tell him.
He stopped abruptly and faced her, clutching her shoulders as he shook her
slender frame.
“What did you say?”
His fingers dug into her arms and she cried out involuntarily.
Immediately he
released her and she turned away from his glowering face.
It wasn’t the time or place, but the subject was opened and the confrontation
could no longer be delayed.
“We’re not right for each other.”
Did he notice the tremor in her voice? She would have to be more firm. She
glanced up at him and tried to make her voice more forceful.
“You must realize we can never be happy with each other.”
Gray eyes stared at her coldly from a bronzed face. He wasn’t like this before –
so cold and calculating.
“I know nothing of the kind. This courtship has been going on too long and
you’re getting bored. It’s time we set a date.”
She eyed him distastefully.
“How about the third week from never?”
“Don’t be disrespectful.” His tone was crisp.
His gaze softened a little. “This marriage is the best thing that could happen to
either of us.”
She caught her breath.
“Even though we’re not in love?”
He scowled at her. “Love is a romantic notion.”
“Then why get married? Instead of a marriage ceremony, we could take merger
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17
vows.”
He stiffened a moment, eyeing her critically. Finally his expression softened and
he reached for her.
“Now don’t get your back up. I didn’t say I didn’t care for you. I’m just saying that
love grows with time. You have to work at it.”
She dodged his hands. If they had to work at love during courtship, what would
marriage be like - when he no longer needed to pretend affection? That’s all it was - a
facade. She glared at him.
“Give me a break,” she said in a cold voice that didn’t sound like her own. “The
only feelings you have for me have roots in my financial status - and the influence my
father would have on your career.”
His face turned scarlet and he balled his hands into fists.
“You ungrateful little bi. . .” He bit the words off and his voice became controlled,
his eyes like cubes of ice. “If it weren’t for your money and position, no man would
take a second look at you.”
His sharp words pierced her thin armor and she gasped. Of course she wasn’t
beautiful, but was she that unattractive? Was that the only reason men had dated her?
She forced a wry smile and each word of her response dripped with sarcasm.
“Your eloquence is amazing. In the face of such flattery, how could I resist?”
Until now she didn’t think his eyes could get any colder.
“You’re a naive little child. We all have to make our sacrifices. You’re parents
have spoiled you rotten with fine clothes and a cushion job. Marrying me will do
wonders for your social life - once you learn to dress properly. I don’t intend to let life
pass me by. I know what I want and I’m going after it.”
She took a step backward and stared mutely up at his face. Her eyes stung with
unshed tears. If he couldn’t win an argument any other way, he could always resort to
demeaning dialog. That’s the way he had been lately. On the other hand, she hadn’t
been exactly kind either.
They had to break this stifling relationship off before it
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A Tutelarius Love
smothered all reason from them.
She swallowed hard and stared at him. He wasn’t going to do this to her. She
wouldn’t let him.
But Denton was relentless. “Wouldn’t you like to be the first lady? Wouldn’t that
be more rewarding than your childish romantic fantasies?”
She met his stern regard coolly. “Do you think it would be any brighter standing
in your shadow than my father’s?”
He stared at her and for a second she thought there was a glimmer of the old
compassion - but then it was gone.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got it made. You’re set up for the rest of
your life. You don’t have to wonder if you’ll have a job in the next ten years.”
She blinked back tears and lashed out blindly.
“If you were anywhere near the lover that you are a politician we wouldn’t be
having this argument.”
His jaw dropped. “Me? Look who’s talking. The little ice maiden herself.” He
shook his head, regarding her distastefully. “And I didn’t think you were the kind to
jump into bed with . . .”
“I wasn’t talking about sex. I was talking about romance. There’s a difference,
you know - or do you?”
It was a mean thing to say. She was lowering herself to his methods - and
scoring big time.
He winced visibly and crammed his hands into his pockets in a way that made
her wonder if he thought she would be safer that way. Standing in the dark, wielding
bitter words at each other wouldn’t solve anything.
She brushed an auburn curl from her face and sighed.
“Let’s not end it this way - with hard feelings. I thought I loved you once, but
we’re too different. We’d never be happy with each other.”
He wasn’t going to give up that easily.
18
When Denton sunk his teeth into
Linda. L. Rigsbee
19
something, he held on. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her tenderly, but his
affection lacked sincerity. Gently he brushed the curl from her face again and looked
into her eyes. He was fighting for his career now.
“If you loved me once, it’s still there. As I said, we’ve drug this engagement out
too long. We’ll talk tonight and set a date.”
And what about his love for her? Anyway, he was wrong. If she had ever
harbored any actual love for him, it was dead now, and couldn’t be resurrected. He
was right about one thing, though. The engagement had gone on too long. She
should have broken it off months ago. Her secret now in the open, she met his gaze
confidently.
“Nothing has changed. I’m not going to marry you.”
His jaw tightened. “We’ll see.”
He dropped his hands and turned away, striding off to join the party.
She stared at his retreating back, relief mingling with a new ache. Was he right?
Was her position at the office merely the creation of a doting father? How many times
had she made the statement that the job was made for her? Was it - literally? And
what about independence? Sure, she had her own apartment, but where was the
money coming from, ultimately? Dad. She sighed heavily. Even if she had decided to
work somewhere else after graduating, getting her parents to let her sink or swim
would have been impossible. Of course, she could have taken that job offer in New
York. She sighed. It was pretty bad when the only way to prevent her father from
interfering in her life was leaving the state.
Memory of the land in Arkansas streaked across her mind like a comet, leaving a
trail of questions in its wake. Was she so pampered that she couldn’t make it on her
own - far away from the guidance of her father? Could she get a job in a state where
the name O’Hara blended in with all the others? Did she have the courage to leave a
cushion job and plush apartment? Of course, she had the thirty-some thousand in her
savings account - most of which had been allotted her when she turned twenty-one.
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A Tutelarius Love
No, that would be cheating. She had four thousand dollars in her checking account, all
of which she had saved. She could use that to lease the place and live while she
looked for a job.
She shook her head. She was letting Denton get to her again. Hadn’t Dad told
her today that she was a valuable employee? So, she worked at her father’s company.
He had to hire someone for the job. If she was qualified, why should he discriminate
against his daughter?
It sounded reasonable, but was she merely rationalizing? She could tuck it back
in her mind and chew on it later or she could do something about it now. Break all ties.
She moved slowly toward the verandah.
Of course, she couldn’t simply quit and
disappear from their lives. No, that would invite an immediate search. Like the time an
accountant had embezzled some money from O’Hara Enterprises. Mr. O’Hara had
solved the problem without going to the police. He had hired a young law student to
track the woman down. Given free rein to improvise as he saw fit, the law student had
found the employee and created his own sting. The law student now had a secure job
with the firm and any future episodes of embezzlement had been discouraged. No
doubt, Mr. O’Hara would be as successful searching for his daughter. He would have
to be told where she was going - unless he thought she was on vacation. Hadn’t he
ordered her to take a vacation?
She kicked at a piece of gravel. But she couldn’t leave the company without
notice. Of course, it wasn’t as though they would be left in the lurch. Clarissa could fill
in until someone could be hired. She smiled. Why not take an extended vacation?
Four weeks should convince everyone, including herself, that she could run her own
life. After twenty-five years in the concrete jungle, what could be so difficult about living
in the rustic hills of Arkansas? Drawing water from a well and cooking on a wood stove
would be inconvenient, but how complicated could it be? The climate in the south at
this time of the year was probably hot, but surely it couldn’t hold a candle to the week
she had spent in the desert. It would be nice getting away from the smog and traffic for
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
21
a while. Maybe she was getting a little tense.
She wandered toward the verandah, considering everything necessary to
prepare for the trip. Of course, the first thing would be to talk to Scott Muldrow about
renting the cabin. Then she would have to buy some clothes suitable for climbing in
the hills. Camping equipment would be fine for her meager cooking needs. And what
about a car? She could drive her car out and back, but by that time she would have
used precious vacation time. No, it would be best to fly out and then lease a car for a
month.
She rejoined the party and even danced a few times with Denton, who was
perplexed by her sudden change in mood. As they gathered around the cake she
smiled up at her father.
“I decided to follow your advice and take a vacation.”
He grinned, certain he had prevailed again.
“Good.”
Denton nodded. “I think some time off work would do you a world of good. A few
weeks on the beach should take the pallor from your skin as well.”
Let him think she was going to be on the beach. It wouldn’t be as complicated
that way. Once she was in Arkansas he wouldn’t be able to locate her. Only then
would she tell him . . . and why did he need to know anyway?
Clarissa wandered up. “What’s this I hear about you taking a vacation? When
are you starting?”
“Next Monday,” she decided.
“That will give me two days to get my office
organized. I’ll be gone four weeks.”
Denton paused with his fork half way to his mouth, the saucer of cake perched
delicately on his other hand.
“Four? Don’t you think that’s a little extravagant? You’ve only been working for
three years.”
Mr. O’Hara quickly recovered from his astonishment and came to her aid. “She’s
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A Tutelarius Love
worked for three years without taking any time off. I call that dedication. She’s earned
four weeks off.”
Denton shrugged. “When she gets back, we’ll set a date.”
Mrs. O’Hara glanced quickly at Denton and then Megan, but she said nothing.
Megan smiled to herself. Denton wasn’t nearly as unhappy as he was going to
be when he found out she was skipping the state.
It was tempting to denounce him
in front of everyone, but that would be childish. Besides, her parents would be hurt as
well. Nothing she could say to him would make any difference anyway. The time for
words was past. Now it was time for action.
would have to admit defeat then.
22
Tonight she would return his ring. He
Linda. L. Rigsbee
23
Chapter Two
“I swear, Megan! You’ve come up with some crazy ideas in the past, but this
time you’ve gone off the deep end.” Mr. O’Hara threw his pen on his desk and scowled
at her. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to travel alone?”
Megan resisted the urge to cringe. Last night’s confrontation with Denton was
proof enough that she couldn’t afford to tolerate any more interference in her life - from
anyone. Standing her ground was the only way to maintain control.
of weakness, her cause would be lost.
At the first sight
She met his commanding stare with
determination.
“It isn’t any more dangerous for me to fly out there alone than to go to the beach
alone.
I’ve considered all the factors and I’ve made my decision.
There’s really
nothing you can do to stop me.”
His gaze hardened and his brows lifted. “Oh? “I could tell Denton. He’d put a
stop to this foolishness.”
Her nails bit into her palms. Denton would certainly try. Even after she had
returned his ring, he hadn’t given up. He had given her a week to get her head on
straight. No doubt, he expected her to come back - begging his forgiveness. But he
had no idea she was planning to leave the state - and she had no intention of telling
him.
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A Tutelarius Love
Mr. O’Hara regarded her suspiciously. “I think you’re actually afraid of him.”
When she refused to meet his gaze, he let lose a long impatient sigh. “He’s your
fiancé. He has a right to know.”
She nibbled on her lower lip and stared at the papers in her hand, avoiding his
probing gaze.
“I told him the wedding is off. I gave his ring back last night.”
“You what?” He lunged out of the chair and fixed her with an incredulous stare.
“Girl, do you know what you’re doing? The whole idea of this vacation was so you
could think things over. You weren’t supposed to make any decision until you came
back.”
A cold anger gripped her.
His seemingly generous offer to allow her an
extended vacation had been nothing more than a cleverly constructed plan to keep her
tied to Denton. Was there no facet of her life that he wouldn’t try to control?
He knew he’d gone too far. It was in his eyes - in the way he picked up the pen
and tried to find a reason to avoid her angry gaze.
tapped the pen on his desk.
He dropped into his chair and
Something about his faltering response gave her
strength.
She planted her hands firmly on his desk and met his gaze with surprising
composure.
She leaned toward him, speaking in a voice so calm she could barely
believe it was her own.
“Then I quit. You can find someone else for this job - and don’t tell me I’ll never
be able to find another one. I’ve heard enough of that from Denton.” She ignored his
quick intake of breath and surprised expression. “I wish you’d give my decisions due
respect - even if they conflict with your opinion. I’ve leased the place for four weeks
and I’m leaving tomorrow - with or without your consent. I’d rather Denton didn’t know
about it because I want to avoid a scene. I’m through with him - no matter who likes it.”
She straightened. “He refuses to accept that fact. Maybe it’s because he’s getting too
much encouragement from you.”
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
25
The room was deathly silent as she finished. He regarded her thoughtfully for a
full minute before responding. Finally he leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“I apologize. It appears you have given this matter a great deal of thought - and
planning. Contrary to your opinion, I do respect your judgment. It’s just that . . . maybe
it was wishful thinking, but I thought you two were getting along.” He shook his head.
“Things have been so hectic here at the office, I thought . . .” He tossed the pen back
on his desk and met her gaze with renewed composure. “Take the four weeks off, but
I expect you back here - four weeks from Monday.” His chair squeaked as he leaned
forward.
“And just so my motives are perfectly clear to you - I don’t want my
competition getting the jump on me by hiring one of my best employees. That’s the
businessman in me talking, not your father.”
He stood and came around the chair to hug her. “You be careful and keep in
touch or I’ll put a tail on you. That’s the father in me talking.”
She caught her breath as a warm flush started up her neck. His expression was
unreadable.
“You wouldn’t do that, would you? After all, I’m not running off with any of your
money.”
He smiled down at her and stroked her hair as if she were still a child.
“You’ll have everything I own eventually. No, if you don’t come back, you’ll be
making off with something that is far more valuable to me than money.”
She pushed his hand away from her hair. “A grandchild?”
He frowned. “Go take your vacation, young lady. And when you come back,
we’ll talk about this some more. In the mean time, I’ll see that no one bothers you.”
She left the room with an annoying thought. How would he see that no one
bothered her - by having her followed?
That was her first thought on the airplane when she noticed the man watching
her. Each time she glanced his way, he turned back to his book. Had her father sent
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A Tutelarius Love
him to watch over her?
A wave of anger came out of nowhere, surging through her veins and washing
the resentment to the surface of her consciousness. Was there any place far enough
away to escape the tentacles of paternal love? What drove her father to meddle in
every facet of her life? Did he think she was incapable of taking care of herself, or had
she simply tolerated his interference so long that it had become a habit? She shook
herself mentally. What did it matter? Let the stranger play guardian angel - as long as
he kept his distance.
She stared boldly at him as he read from the book in his lap. He wouldn’t dare
look up while she was watching him.
He was close to her age and, though she
wouldn’t have described him as handsome, there was something about his features
that she found attractive. His strong profile was masculine without being rugged, and a
healthy olive tan suggested an outdoor hobby.
His curly brown hair stopped
somewhere short of being unruly, but it was clean and clipped short.
He glanced up and met her startled gaze with eyes the color of fine amber - not
brown, not yellow, but an indistinct mixture of both. They were warm eyes - eyes that
held her attention long enough to bring color to her cheeks.
She looked away.
No, he wasn’t devastatingly handsome, like Denton. He
didn’t have that look of money or polished charm.
He had something far more
attractive. He looked like someone she would like to know. Someone she would have
selected, not Dad.
She opened her purse and pulled out a paper back novel. She was letting her
imagination run wild.
Searching for a shadow behind every face wasn’t exactly
conducive to enjoying her vacation. He was merely another passenger.
She absently flipped through the pages to her bookmark.
But why was he
watching her? According to Denton, there was only one reason why a man would give
her so much attention. Had Denton sent the man? No, Denton didn’t know she was
leaving the state.
She sighed. Of course, a lot of people knew her on sight - people
26
Linda. L. Rigsbee
27
she didn’t even know. Maybe he simply recognized her and was wondering where she
was going.
She stiffened and glanced around. How many other people recognized her?
Dad was right. It was dangerous to travel alone like this. What if someone decided to
kidnap her? What if . . .
She slammed the book shut and leaned back against the seat. Stop thinking
about it. She closed her eyes and tried to drive the worry from her mind. If only she
had invited someone to go with her. But she was such a loner. Maybe she was too
independent for her own good. She rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath.
“Sure, that’s why your father is running your life.”
“Hum?”
Megan opened her eyes as the lady beside her leaned closer. “Oh nothing,”
Megan responded with a smile. “I was only talking to myself.”
The lady nodded and returned her attention to the window.
Megan glanced up
to find the young man watching her again. He smiled warmly when he met her gaze, a
twinkle of amusement deepening the amber color to brown. Such an enchanting smile.
She blushed as she realized she was returning his smile. Friendly? Or was
there a purpose to his attention? Best to stay away from him. For the rest of the trip
she read her book or gazed out the window.
When the commuter plane touched down at NXA airport, Megan called for the
shuttle van to her hotel in Fayetteville and decided to wait outside. The sun was bright
and the day warm. She had barely relaxed when the amber-eyed man sauntered out
the door.
He moved across the concrete with feline grace and propped himself against a
pillar with one broad shoulder. He threw one long leg across the other and glanced
around, absently plucking a package of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. Placing a
cigarette in the corner of his mouth, his long fingers then searched the pockets of his
27
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A Tutelarius Love
brown tweed jacket and finally emerged with a match. He glanced at the stick and
shrugged. Lifting his foot, he struck the match on the sole of his shoe. Cupping his
hands around the flame, he sucked life into the cigarette and then shook the flame
from the match before tossing it into an ashtray. Every move was calculated, and yet
he gave the impression that he had nothing but time.
The acrid smell of sulfur surfed a breeze and burned her nose. She coughed
softly and waved a hand to disperse the fumes. His gaze shifted to her as he exhaled
the smoke through his nostrils. The smoke tickled her nose. She frantically threw her
purse open, searching for a tissue, but a violent sneeze ripped through her lungs so
quickly she barely had time to cover her mouth with her hand. She glared at him and
he frowned, glancing down at the cigarette.
She looked away again. What was it to her if he smoked? In a few minutes she
her ride would be here and she wouldn’t have to smell the stuff for four weeks. Still,
couldn’t Dad have found someone who didn’t smoke? With any luck she could give
him the slip, and he’d have to go back to Dad and tell him he’d lost her. She smiled at
the thought and glanced up as someone announced the van had arrived. The man
was watching her and returned her smile, moving toward her.
As she grabbed her luggage and headed for van, from the corner of her eye she
noticed that he paused mid stride and then turned away. If Dad had sent the man, his
next four weeks weren’t going to be as relaxing as hers.
At the hotel, for the first time in months, she slept soundly. Perhaps it was
fatigue from the long journey. Whatever the case, she was up early the next morning.
By the time the sun shot its first orange rays over the horizon, she was driving the little
red sports car out of town. The car wouldn’t have been her choice, but it was the only
rental available - unless she wanted to wait around for half a day until another was
returned. The little red car might be inappropriate, but it would suffice.
She studied the map Mr. Muldrow had sketched for her. Compared to the spider
web of highways in Los Angeles, it looked simple. Singing softly, she turned out onto
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
29
the three-lane highway and used the center lane to execute a left turn onto a four lane
highway. A green sign indicated Huntsville was only 17 miles away. Another thirty
minutes and she would be at the old log cabin. Camping equipment filled the trunk
along with enough clothes to last a week. Surely there would be a Laundromat close.
The only thing left to purchase was food, and there was bound to be a store near the
cabin.
The next turn found her on a narrow two lane highway that was a succession of
curves. When she caught up with a motor home going forty miles an hour, she found
no place to pass. After thirty minutes she spotted the sign indicating the state highway
where she was supposed to turn. The narrow state highway stretched like a black
ribbon through the forested hills. Only one vehicle passed her in the fifteen minutes it
took her to reach the next turnoff indicated on the map. The country was getting wilder
and the homes were farther apart. Turning on a wide gravel road, she stopped to
study the map. There was no street sign, but according to the map, it had to be the
correct road. The route could always be retraced if it was the wrong one. The cabin
couldn’t be much further. The map indicated a bridge and a town not far ahead.
The road gradually narrowed and climbed through hills choked with brush and
huge oak trees. She maneuvered the car around washed out places and eased it over
rocks that erupted from the surface of the dusty road. At one point the road became
one lane and curved around the face of a cliff. On one side was a massive rock cliff
covered with green moss. On the other was a canyon cloaked with so many trees that
it looked like broccoli.
She consulted her watch. Eight-thirty. An hour and a half on the road and no
trace of the bridge. The gas gage registered three quarters of a tank. How far was it
to the bridge? What if she had car trouble? It had been nearly a half-hour since the
last car had passed her.
Trees arched over the road, forming a canopy of leaves. She rounded a curve
and slammed on the breaks. In front of her stood a rusty old one lane bridge with
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A Tutelarius Love
ancient wooden slats. Hesitantly she urged the car forward, catching her breath as the
bridge creaked and groaned under the weight of the tiny car. Far below, green water
moved sluggishly around huge gray boulders. Only when she reached the other side
of the bridge did she permit herself to breathe. Hopefully there was another route out
of the mountains.
The road began to widen and after a sharp bend she came into the tiny town
indicated on the map. She breathed a little easier as she drove through the town that
was little more than a wide spot in the road. The driveway had to be around that next
bend.
Sure enough. A real estate sign advertising a house for sale peeped out from tall
grass beside the road. The drive consisted of two tire tracks worn into the grass.
Brush grew close to the drive, but it was obvious that someone had mown a swath
down either side of the drive not long ago.
The long drive ended abruptly as the brush cleared at the cabin. The lawn, if it
could be called that, was overgrown with weeds and sadly in need of mowing. Settled
into a backdrop of wooded hills, was the little log cabin. From the outside, it looked
rough, but well maintained and solid.
She parked the car and worked her way through calf-high weeds until she
reached the porch. The wooden planks were old and weathered, but felt solid enough.
Rough cedar posts that still had remnants of limbs supported the porch roof, and an
old vine rocker sat beside the door.
She unlocked the door and entered the small front room. There she stopped and
gaped. The house was nothing like what she expected. Instead of dirt, the floors were
made of hardwood so rich that the layer of dust couldn’t hide its beauty. The walls
were of stained pine, shellacked to a glow that reflected every ray of light that entered
the large windows. A fireplace with a native stone hearth occupied most of one wall.
Each of the other two walls had a doorway. The first door brought her to a small
bedroom, and the other to the kitchen. An apartment sized gas range stood beside a
30
Linda. L. Rigsbee
31
small refrigerator that looked like something out of the 50’s. A stainless steel sink was
set into home made cabinets, whose cutting board top was marred with years of use.
A bench style dinette set was the only furniture in the house.
A tiny bathroom off the kitchen sported a bathtub with feet, a modern commode
and a sink with porcelain handles.
Even the bathroom had hardwood floors and
stained pine walls. She turned back to the kitchen and flipped the light switch. Good,
the electricity was on. She turned on the faucet and a stream of discolored water
splashed into the sink. Gradually the water became clear and she twisted the knob
until the water flow stopped.
A back door opened off the kitchen and she descended the rock slab steps to the
yard. A propane tank perched on concrete blocks looked out of place in the antiquated
setting.
She lifted the lid and studied the gage. As near as she could figure, it was
more than half full - all she would need. Beside the tank was a pile of split wood about
three feet high and six feet long. She wouldn’t need that.
After unloading the car, she made a list of all the supplies needed. Pulling the
cell phone from her purse, she tried calling Mr. O’Hara. After the third attempt failed,
she decided to call from the store. She had charged the phone last night, so that
couldn’t be the problem. Maybe the cabin sat in a dead zone. Giving up for the
moment, she carefully locked the door and headed for the tiny town. A small country
store that doubled as a restaurant was one of a few buildings. A bell on the door
jingled as she entered, and a middle-aged woman smiled a greeting from behind the
counter.
“Hello, can I help you with something?”
“I need a few supplies.” She glanced around the little store. More than likely
some of the things on her list would have to be purchased elsewhere. “Do you have a
broom or dust mop?”
“I have a couple of brooms and dust pans. Over here.” The lady led her to a
corner where two brooms hung on the wall. “You must be the young lady who is
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A Tutelarius Love
renting the Foreman place.”
Megan frowned. “Foreman place?”
“Yeah. The couple that moved to California a few weeks ago.”
“Oh.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it? The house, I mean.”
“You’ve been in the house?”
“Of course. Mary & Joe Foreman were friends of mine. I was sorry to see them
go, but with the baby coming on and Joe’s parents offering him a good job out there in
California, they didn’t have much choice.”
“I see.” Information was obviously a free commodity in this area.
“You’re not married?”
“No.”
“No children, I guess.”
“No.”
“You came from California, didn’t you? Did you know the Foreman’s?”
“Yes, I came from California, but I haven’t met the Foreman’s.”
“Oh.” The woman smiled warmly. “Now, what else would you like?”
Megan pulled the list from her pocket and started reading off the supplies. “Milk,
eggs, bread, butter and some kind of lunch meat.”
“Here.” The woman held out her hand for the list. “I’ll get it all for you.”
Megan handed her the list. “Thank you.”
The woman picked up a basket and started down an isle. “My name is Clarabelle
Thompson,” she spoke in a loud voice as she picked up a dozen eggs. “Most folks just
call me Clara. Do you want sandwich bread?”
“That would be fine.”
“We have a few kinds of prepackaged sandwich meats, but there’s a better
variety at the counter. I’ll slice it for you as thick as you want.”
Megan considered the selection and ordered a pound of lunchmeat sliced thick.
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
33
The store looked and smelled clean, and she was hungry. It was past noon and she
had skipped breakfast.
“What’s on your menu?”
Clara was packing the supplies into a sack as she rang them up on an old
register.
“Hamburgers, hot dogs, onion rings, French fries - you know, the usual fast food
stuff.”
“I’ll take a hamburger and fries.”
Megan took her supplies to the car while Clara cooked her food. She put the
groceries in the back seat and sat the broom up cross ways on the floor. Closing the
door she glanced around the town - what there was of it. A gas station that fixed flats,
a few houses and the store – that was about it. At the gas station there were only two
cars. One was parked beside the building with its hood up, and an old mustang sat at
the pump.
She didn’t immediately notice the tall man watching her from the gas station. He
was lounging against the building, far away from the pumps, smoking a cigarette.
When she turned her attention to him, he dropped the cigarette on the ground and
rubbed it out with the toe of his shoe.
Then he leaned over and picked it up -
something she had never seen anyone do before. Something about the way he moved
was familiar. She stiffened. Was she imagining things, or was it the man from the
airport? She couldn’t see his face clearly enough to be sure. He didn’t look as tall, but
the man at the airport had been wearing a suit. This one wore a short sleeved shirt,
jeans and white sneakers.
Surely it wasn’t chance that found them both in this tiny town. Was he following
her?
She turned and headed back to the store reflectively.
If he was looking for
money, he was barking up the wrong tree. She rarely carried much cash and only one
credit card. Of course, if ransom was his game . . . She stepped inside the door. No.
It was far more likely that Dad had sent him.
33
He’d get his report and leave. When
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A Tutelarius Love
Megan reached the counter, Clara had her food ready.
Megan took a table near the window and ate the food while she watched the
sleepy town. It was like stepping back in time. A young boy stopped his bicycle in
front of the store and his thongs slapped bare heals as he entered.
“Aunt Clara, Mom needs some of that stuff you spray on the furniture.”
“Furniture polish.” Clara took a can from the shelf and handed it to him.
“Thanks.
She said she’d be in to pay you tonight.” He turned to leave and
spotted Megan. He leaned close to his aunt and spoke in an audible whisper.
“Who’s the pretty lady?”
Megan glanced around and then realized the boy was referring to her. Pretty?
Too bad Denton didn’t hear that - even if it did come from the lips of a child. Make-up
could do wonders.
Clara patted him on the head. “She’s the lady who’s renting the Foreman place.
Now run along.”
The boy obediently headed for the door. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He stopped at the
door. “Dad said your tires are in. He said to bring your car by tonight and he’d put
them on.” He ran out to his bicycle and pushed the kickstand back while he peered
through the window.
Megan smiled and waved at him and he smiled back, waving as he jumped on
his bike. With a precarious tilt of the bicycle, he turned and rode off.
What a friendly town. How much did everyone know about her? She finished
her food and threw the paper plate in the trash.
“Is there a phone booth around here?”
Clara pointed to a phone on the wall. “Over there.”
“Thanks.” Megan dug some coins and her calling card from her purse. She
hated to call Dad from the store. How much of what she said would be repeated?
Maybe she was too private. She dialed the number and waited while the phone rang.
A soft voice answered.
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35
“O’Hara Incorporated. May I help you?”
“Colin O’Hara, please.”
“May I tell him who is calling?”
“Megan O’Hara.”
“One moment please.” No one but Clarissa could be so cool and professional at
the same time.
After a pause Mr. O’Hara answered. “Megan, where are you now?”
“In a small town in Northwest Arkansas, I’m sure it isn’t on the map. It’s a friendly
place, though. Rather nostalgic.”
“Just because people are friendly doesn’t mean you can let your guard down.”
She hesitated. Maybe she should ask him if he sent the man. But if he didn’t, he
would be worried.
“I know, Dad. I’ll be careful.”
“I tried to call you this afternoon, but I couldn’t get through.
“I know. I guess there aren’t any towers close.”
“What’s the number at your cabin?”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“No phone? What kind of place is that?”
She laughed.
“Now Dad, I came out here to get away from all of that,
remember?”
“Don’t you have a number where I can reach you in an emergency?”
“Just a minute.” She covered the receiver and glanced at Clara. “Would you
mind if I gave this number to my Father for emergency use only?”
“Of course not. Tell him I can send someone out if he has a message for you.”
“Thanks.” She lifted the receiver to her ear. “Dad, this phone is inside a little
country store and the lady that works here said it would be all right to give you this
number.” She gave him the number and he repeated it back to her.
“Do you plan to spend four weeks there?”
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A Tutelarius Love
“Yes. I’ll probably travel some, but I’ll be back home before night. Will you stop
worrying about me? I’m a big girl now and I can take care of myself.”
“We miss you.”
“It’s only been a day and a half.”
He chuckled. “Denton has been asking where you are.”
She caught her breath. “You didn’t tell him.”
“No. I just said you went out of town for a while. He’s annoyed that you didn’t tell
him where you were going and I can’t blame him.” He was silent for a few seconds. “If
you’re no longer engaged, why do you have to deceive him? Why can’t you tell him to
take a hike? You didn’t have any trouble telling me.”
“Sure, but I love you.”
Clara was watching her intently. “Look, Dad. I have to go. I just wanted to let
you know I got here and everything is better than I expected. The place is fantastic.
How are things going at the office?”
“Things are fine here. We’re short-handed, but we’re getting along.”
“And Mom?”
“She’s fine too. You take care of yourself and call me any time - even if it’s in the
middle of the night.”
“I’ll call. Love you. Bye.” She replaced the receiver and headed for the door.
“Ms. O’Hara?”
She stopped and turned around. Clara couldn’t be expected to know she hated
being called Ms.
“Yes?”
“Would you mind if I stopped by your house tomorrow?
I have some hanging
plants I’ve been trying to get rid of that would look great on your front porch.”
More likely Clara wanted to ask questions, but if she said no it might be
construed as unfriendly.
“That would be nice. I’ll see you then. I’d better get home while the milk is cool.”
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37
“Bye, Bye.”
She glanced at the station as she passed, but the little blue mustang was gone.
Was he the man she had seen on the airplane? If so, it had to be someone her father
had sent. Surely it couldn’t be coincidence that he had been traveling to Fayetteville
from California and then turned up out here in the boonies. No, Dad had sent him.
Where was he now - at the cabin? Did he know where she was staying? Surely
he must or he wouldn’t have found her so soon. She frowned.
“Of course,” she whispered to herself as she turned into the long drive. “Scott
Muldrow must have given Dad a copy of the map.”
When she reached the cabin she was relieved to find she was alone. Wherever
the shiny little blue car had gone, it had nothing to do with her. It probably wasn’t the
man she had seen at the airport, after all.
At the cabin she lifted the sack of groceries in one arm and balanced the broom
in the other hand. As she climbed the porch steps she noticed something lying in front
of the door. She shifted the sack of groceries to get a better look, and froze.
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Chapter Three
The serpent raised its ugly head, the beady black eyes measuring Megan as its
tiny forked tongue flicked in her direction. The leathery coils of its shiny body lay in a
heap, stacked at least three tiers high.
Heart pounding, she slowly retreated, pausing only when the heel of her shoe
reached the edge of the porch. Then, never taking her gaze off the snake, she backed
down the steps. Selecting the back door key, she finally tore her attention from the
serpent and took a step toward the back of the house. Before her, the knee-high grass
waved with a slight breeze of warning. How many of the snakes relatives lurked in the
grass?
Taking a deep breath, she lowered the groceries to the steps and retained her
grip on the broom. Wasn’t this why she had come to Arkansas? To prove she could
take care of herself?
She balanced the broom handle in clammy palms and slowly
advanced up the steps. What if she was bitten? How long would it take to get medical
attention? She hesitated and then shook her head, muttering to herself again.
“You can’t stand here all day. You came here to test yourself, and here’s the first
challenge.”
Extending the broom as far as possible, she nudged the snake gently.
She
shuddered involuntarily as it slowly uncoiled, stretched across the porch and eventually
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
39
disappeared off the edge into the tall grass.
Swallowing an urge to retch, she retrieved the groceries and dashed to the door.
“Give yourself two points for that one,” she breathed as she unlocked the door.
Inside, the cabin was hot and stuffy. As she moved around the cabin opening
windows, she examined every inch of the floor for possible entry routes a snake might
utilize. Finally, satisfied the house was safe, she put the groceries away and began
cleaning the cabin.
The sun was bathing the cabin in orange by the time she had finished cleaning
and hanging her clothes.
She hesitated at the front door, scanning the porch for
snakes before she stepped out into the cool evening air. The rocker was comfortable
and a soft breeze caressed her into a blissful silence. Birds flitted from tree to tree,
chirping at each other and battling over the best roosting sights. As the light faded
from the treetops, the birds grew silent and insects began their orchestra of night
sounds.
Megan closed her eyes and imagined she was in a rain forest along the Amazon.
It might as well have been, for all the noises she could identify. She breathed deeply
of the moist night air and relaxed, stretching her feet toward the edge of the porch.
Abruptly she opened her eyes and glanced around the porch. The light from the
doorway bathed the center of the porch in a yellow light, but the rocker sat in darkness.
A sharp pain brought her out of the chair with a cry of alarm.
She slapped the
mosquito off her arm and shook her head.
“Wouldn’t Denton be proud if he could see you now,” she muttered sarcastically
as she hurried into the cabin.
The doors and windows securely closed and locked, she settled down on the
bedroll to read a book. Slowly the strength ebbed from her body and reading became
a chore. Noting the page number, she snapped the book shut and turned off the light.
The sleeping bag was warm and cozy, but sleep didn’t come easily. She lay awake for
what must have been hours. Each time she dozed off, she thought something was
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crawling on her bedroll. A soft light was beginning to flood the bedroom when she
finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
She woke with a gasp and threw back the covers. Bright sunshine beat down
through the bedroom window, heating her bedroll until she was drenched with sweat.
She rose and opened the window, but a breeze didn’t stand a chance with the forest
surrounding the cabin. Snatching some clothes, she dashed off to the bathroom.
After a shower and breakfast, she tidied the cabin and wandered around. What
was she was going to do with the rest of the day - and weeks? It would be nice to try
some of the camp recipes she had picked up before leaving California, but the kitchen
was hot enough without adding cooking heat. Retrieving her book from the bedroom,
she leafed through it to the page number she had memorized.
After a restless half-hour, she set the book aside. “You didn’t come out here to
read.” She sighed. “Or talk to yourself, either.” Through the window the forest invited,
but what about snakes? No doubt the area was crawling with them. She sauntered
out to the porch for some more unnecessary rest in the rocker. A steady chirping and
whistling came from the forest. An occasional sharp high bark soon revealed the
source as a little gray squirrel. It scampered to the edge of the limb and looked down
at her, its bushy tail jerking up and down as it scolded her. What did she have that a
squirrel would eat?
In the distance a hound bayed – something she had only heard in movies. It was
simultaneously frightening and annoying. Was it leading a hunter?
Inside the house, she decided on a piece of corn on the cob. It was frozen, but it
would soon thaw in this heat.
As she stepped back outside, the sound of the hound was getting closer. Brush
crackled near the edge of the forest and then a deer leaped into the open. Megan
gasped. The deer paused only a second when it saw her, and then bounded across
the clearing, its white tail held erect.
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
41
Megan reached inside the door and grabbed the broom as the deer disappeared
into the forest again. It couldn’t be deer season, so that meant the dog was chasing
the deer for pleasure - or worse. The dog plunged from the forest as she dodged the
closing screen door.
Brandishing the broom, she raced down the porch steps,
screaming at the dog.
“Get out of here you horrid thing!”
The dog stopped and stared at her. As she drew near, it turned and ran, its tail
between its legs.
“And stay away, you miserable . . .” She stopped, suddenly aware that she was
in the middle of the field. Behind her lay a path of crushed grass and beyond that, tall
weeds and grass. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead and she mopped it away
with her forearm. Using the broom to push the grass aside, she carefully made her
way back to the porch and sank into the chair. It was ridiculous to be so frightened of
something. She was virtually a captive in the cabin.
A few minutes later a brown LTD crept up the drive and stopped. Megan stood
and smiled a genuine welcome as Clara emerged from the car, carrying two large
hanging plants. She held them up for Megan to examine.
“This one is a begonia, the other one is a coleus. They like sun - as long as it
isn’t direct.”
Megan nodded. “They’re colorful, aren’t they?” She pulled the rocker to the
edge of the porch and lifted the plants to some hooks.
“It seems a waste of time to hang these for less than a month.”
“Oh, I’ll probably leave them up until the weather starts to get cold - unless
someone objects, of course.”
Megan hopped off the chair and pulled it back beside the door. “Well, I hope the
person that buys it isn’t such a coward”
Clara stared at her.
“Coward?
Land sakes, girl.
You come out here from
California all alone and rent you a place in the middle of nowhere. I think that takes a
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A Tutelarius Love
lot of guts.”
Megan laughed. “I’ve been terrified to get off the porch. Do you know there was
a huge snake waiting for me right there in front of the door yesterday when I came
home?” She shuddered. “I hate snakes.”
“What kind of snake?”
“I don’t know. It was black with white speckles all over its back.
It was about
that big around.” She held her hands up in a circle to demonstrate.
Clara nodded. “A king snake. It’s harmless. In fact, it kills poisonous snakes.”
Megan made a face. “I hope it continues to do so out of my sight. Are there lots
of snakes around here?”
“Some.” Clara glanced around. “All this brush right next to the house gives them
a place to hide. You need to have someone brush hog it all down.”
“Brush hog?”
“Kind of like a mower, only they drag it behind a tractor. It’ll get all the brush and
even some small trees.”
“Even those short trees with the reddish brown things on the top?”
“Sumac.”
“What?”
“Those are sumac bushes. Did you know you can make tea from the berries?”
“Is it good?”
Clara shrugged. “I never tasted it.” She stepped off the porch and studied the
brush. “You could knock most of this stuff down with a weed whip.”
“What’s that?” Clara must think she was an idiot.
“It’s a . . . Maybe there’s one in the shed.” She led the way to the old shed.
Among other tools, they found one that looked like a hockey puck with a sharp blade.
Clara swung it back and forth, clipping the grass off neatly with each stroke. She
handed the whip to Megan.
Megan frowned. “I don’t know how to use one.”
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43
Clara laughed. “You’re not gonna learn any younger, that’s for sure.”
Megan gingerly accepted the tool, gripping the smooth wooden handle with both
hands. She took aim on a tall bunch of grass and swung the whip like a bat. The
blade came to a jolting halt against the thick clump.
Clara giggled. “Keep trying. You’ll grow to it.”
But she didn’t - even after a dozen exhausting swings. No matter how hard she
swung, the whip never managed to do more than maul the grass. She examined her
palms, already red and painful from the unaccustomed exercise.
“I’ll get some gloves and try it later. Why don’t we go into the house for some
iced tea? I made some this morning.”
In the kitchen they sipped tea and discussed everything from wildlife to house
plants.
After tea, Clara convinced her to walk around the cabin to look at the
vegetation. Clara identified some of the bushes - all the while filling Megan in on the
goings on in town.
Obviously it was important information to Clara, who knew
everyone. Their wanderings finally took them back to the car, and as Clara opened the
door to climb in, she hesitated.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Are you expecting a visitor?”
Megan stiffened. “No. Why?” Surely Denton hadn’t found her already.
Clara shrugged. “Well, a nice clean cut young man was asking questions about
you at the store yesterday.” Her gaze dropped to Megan’s ringless hand and a smile
played at the corners of her mouth.
“Maybe a jilted suitor?
Megan frowned. Of course, Clara would hardly miss the fact that her skin was
lighter where Denton’s ring had been. Clara didn’t miss much of anything.
Megan made a face. “You didn’t tell him where he could find me, did you?”
Clara shook her head, eyeing Megan thoughtfully.
“No, as a mater of fact, he already knew where to find you. He was just pumping
me for information on what you were doing out here.”
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A Tutelarius Love
Megan felt a twinge of fear. “What kind of questions was he asking?”
Clara watched her intently, but her tone was casual.
“Oh, the usual. How long are you going to stay; if you’re planning on buying the
place. Stuff like that.” She smiled suddenly. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry. He seemed like a
nice young man. Nice looking too - and drove a smart looking little car.”
Denton - it had to be. But how could he have found her so soon? Had Dad
given him instructions to the place, or . . .
“What did he look like,” She asked Clara.
Clara shrugged again. “Like I said, clean-cut and good looking. Tall with dark
hair . . . had a kind of sophisticated look about him.”
So Denton had decided to follow her after all. But why would Dad give him
instructions to the cabin? If Dad was going to have her followed, it was unlikely that he
would have sent someone she knew. Of course, Denton was no fool. Eventually he
would have thought about Scott Muldrow, and Denton could be persuasive. So that
was how Denton had found her. So much for her elaborate escape plan.
“You know,” Clara’s voice broke into her thoughts. “He had the strangest eyes.
Amber colored. Kind of pretty, but . . .
“Amber?” Megan interrupted anxiously.
Clara nodded, eyeing Megan suspiciously. “Someone you know?”
Megan shrugged nonchalantly. “No. Doesn’t sound like anyone I know.”
It was true. She didn’t know the man. She had only seen him on the plane and
at the airport.
Clara gave her a knowing smile. “Well, I think he was interested in meeting you.
And maybe you wouldn’t mind a little . . . masculine company? It’s none of my
business, but they can’t all be heaped into a pile, you know. Men, that is. This one
seems like a nice young man.” She winked. “At any rate, he’ll probably show up on
your door step some time.”
Megan forced a smile. “Not with your instructions, I hope. I came out here to be
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45
alone.”
Clara ducked her head down as she climbed into the car. “I didn’t tell him much.”
She started the engine, avoiding Megan’s gaze. “If you need anything. Let me know.”
Megan watched as the car backed down the drive and then started down the
road. How much had Clara told the man, intentionally or otherwise? It gave her an
eerie feeling. So the man was following her. The big question was, why? Was he up
to no good, or had Dad sent him - or maybe Denton? Clara thought the stranger’s
interest was personal, but she couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Oh, he was
interested all right - interested in collecting the money offered to keep an eye on her.
Or was it something more sinister? But no - if his intentions were ill willed, he would
hardly have expressed his interest to an obvious town gossip. Either Dad or Denton
had sent him to spy on her.
There was a positive aspect to the situation, though. If either of them had sent
the man, he could be trusted, that was sure. And maybe he was a nice man. The next
question was, would he drop by the cabin or simply watch from a distance?
The idea gave her a strange feeling of warmth and excitement. What was it
about the man on the airplane that she found so enticing? Or was she merely getting
that lonely? Ridiculous. She had lived in an apartment by herself for several years
now and thoroughly enjoyed the solitude. Not that she had the opportunity to spend
many evenings by herself. Still, maybe the stranger would be good company. She
shook her head. Here she was, thinking about a complete stranger as a companion.
How desperate could she get?
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A Tutelarius Love
Chapter Four
Clara was right. Megan immediately recognized the shiny blue mustang when it
emerged from the brush that bordered the drive. She also recognized the driver. It
was the man who had watched her from the station . . . the man on the airplane. She
quieted a sudden rush of excitement with a reminder that he was probably being paid
to visit.
She hacked at the brush with the weed whip.
It would make a formidable
weapon if he was anything other than what she suspected. Suspected? Only the
tiniest shred of doubt remained in her mind, and that was probably born of wishful
thinking, not logic.
He parked the car and strolled over to her, stretching out a browned hand in
greeting. What clever disguise would this law student use?
He smiled warmly. “My name is Justin Keaton. I wanted to welcome you to
Arkansas.”
He had the southern drawl down to an art and his deep warm voice added a
realistic touch. Where could Dad have found him on such short notice? Hesitantly she
accepted his hand.
“Thank you. Do you live around here?” Surely if he did, Clara would have known
him.
“I have a room outside of town. I’m doing some work at a broiler farm down the
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
47
road a piece.”
She released his hand and he immediately withdrew it. There were no motels in
town, so he must be staying with someone - and surely Clara would have known that,
too. He was dressed in a spotless white pocket T-shirt and white sneakers - hardly
clothes for a farm hand. And speaking of hands, his were smooth and free of calluses.
He braved her scrutiny with a small twinkle in his eye and a smile playing at the
corners of his mouth. His air of cool confidence was more than likely the result of
frequent business contacts - one of Denton’s colleagues?
He tucked his thumbs into the back pockets of his faded jeans. “I believe Clara
said your name was Megan?”
That was a clever move - using Clara as a source for his information. Even so, it
was annoying. Why didn’t he simply state his purpose? She shot him a sour look.
“Megan O’Hara, and I’m from California. All of which you should know if you’ve
actually been around here long . . . everyone else seems to.”
He regarded her thoughtfully for a minute and then shrugged.
“They don’t mean to be nosy. They’re just interested.”
“I know.” He was going to continue the charade. Did he think she was that
gullible? She took a hacking swing at the grass.
He moved toward her. “You have to let it fall. You’ll wear yourself out that way.
Here, let me show you.” He gently coaxed the whip from her hand and took a few steps
away from her. “Let the weight of the whip work for you, not against you.” He brought
the tool down in a smooth effortless motion that cut the grass neatly. As the whip
continued and reached the peak of its arch, he let it fall again, whipping more grass
with the other side of the blade. With side to side swings, he quickly cut a small area
of grass. His swing resembled that of a golfer and she surmised he had plenty of
practice.
She squinted up at him against the sun. “Could you show me that again - a little
to the left. It might take me a while to learn, but I’m sure I’ll have it figured out by the
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time you get the front yard done.”
He laughed - a deep sound, much like Dad’s voice. An unwelcome feeling of
homesickness clutched at her heart. It had only been two days. Four weeks would be
a long time.
She accepted the whip and made another unsuccessful swing. She wrinkled her
nose and hacked at the grass again. Why did everyone make it look so easy?
He moved so quickly that she didn’t have time to protest. “Here.” He stepped
behind her and reached his arms around her, positioning her hands on the handle.
“Like this.”
He smelled faintly of cologne - not the cheap kind, either. His warm hands
covered hers and she could feel the hardness of his chest muscles on her back as he
guided her arms in a smooth swing. Then he was showing her how to raise the weed
whip and let it fall. As the whip came across the grass, it lay over neatly, cut sharply by
the whip. She glanced up at his face - so close to hers - and her pulse quickened.
She tried to cover her confusion with a wry smile and a casual question.
“Where did you learn to do that - on a golf course?”
His smile faltered and he stepped back. “Now try it on your own.”
Her first solo swing was surprisingly successful. She gasped her delight and
smiled up at him. “By gosh, I think I’ve got it,” she spoke in a poor imitation of British
accent.
He watched with an amused expression as she quickly leveled a small area of
grass. He probably thought she was dense. How long had it taken him to learn? She
glanced up as he plucked a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.
His brows arched. “Mind if I smoke?”
She leaned on the whip handle and scowled at him. “Yes I mind.” At his startled
expression, she softened the refusal with an explanation. “I spent three years smelling
that stuff against my will. It’s nice to finally have the option to vocalize my objection.”
He tucked the package back in his pocket and lifted a dark brow. “Only the last
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49
three years? An on-the-job complaint or a short marriage?”
Why did he continue the farce when he must realize she had him pegged? She
rolled her eyes.
“As if you didn’t know.”
The other brow came up. “Know what?”
Was it possible he didn’t know? How much had he been told? She froze for a
second with the whip in the air. What if Dad hadn’t sent him? What if he was stalking
her?
Or was Clara right? Was it possible that he was personally interested? She
ground her teeth. Not according to Denton. Again she wondered about her previous
suitors. Of course, she hadn’t been interested in them either - not seriously, anyway.
And yet she found Keaton strangely intriguing. If only she could believe that Keaton
was genuinely interested in her. But Denton had destroyed that notion. Would she
ever be certain of a suitor’s intent again?
She brought the whip down with such force that it whistled through the air. Like
an angry golfer, she sent a huge divot into the air. The sod arched into the air and fell,
targeting Keaton.
He dodged the spray of dry earth and stared at the clump that fell at his feet. He
whistled softly through his teeth.
“Forget I asked. I was only making idle conversation anyway. Your personal life
is none of my business.”
An uncomfortable warmth surged up her neck, flooding her cheeks. She was
letting her imagination work overtime again.
He was merely a friendly neighbor
practicing southern hospitality. It was purely coincidental that he was on the same
flight out of Los Angeles, and that he happened to work down the road from the house
she rented. What was so strange about a man dropping in to welcome a new neighbor
- one visitor to another - a man welcoming a person who lived several miles away? A
man who worked on a chicken farm in a white T-shirt and clean white sneakers . . . a
migrant handyman with no calluses and a golfer’s swing? Was she crazy? Of course
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he had been sent by Dad. He certainly hadn’t driven this far to gaze in awe at her
beauty.
And yet, there was no reason to be upset with him. After all, he was merely
doing his job - playing out a part that probably meant a lot to his career.
She
straightened shoulders that had unconsciously slumped. At any rate, nothing could be
gained by feeling sorry for herself. She hefted the whip and started working on another
area of tall grass. From the corner of her eye she saw Keaton select a rock from the
drive and throw it into the woods. It arched high and came down with a clatter. Even
in the dense underbrush, it had found another rock.
He glanced at the cabin. “Are you starting to get bored yet, or did you pack a
TV?”
She sighed. “I haven’t had time to get bored yet. I’m enjoying the peace and
quiet, though.” Actually, the silence was beginning to get on her nerves, but she didn’t
want him reporting that fact to her father or Denton. Again she wished she had invited
one of her friends. Not that it would have done any good. They all thought her idea
was crazy.
Keaton kicked at a stick and made a mark in the gravel with the toe of his shoe.
“I thought you might like to see a movie.”
She glanced up sharply.
Was he also instructed to provide her with
entertainment? She frowned.
“With you?”
The amber gaze searched her face expectantly.
“I was working up to that.”
It sounded like a good idea, and if she had been sure the offer had originated in
his head, she would have accepted. And yet, for someone who was bold enough to
drive up and introduce himself, he was certainly having a hard time working up the
courage to ask her to a movie. The obvious cause of his hesitation was disinterest.
She sighed.
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51
“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll go to bed early tonight. I want to start on this
grass early tomorrow morning while it’s cool.”
He nodded. “Yeah, it’s going to be another scorcher tomorrow, I’m afraid.”
He turned and ambled to the driver’s side of his car. Was that disappointment in
his voice, or relief? He folded his arms across the top of the car door and rested his
chin on his arms.
“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t I pick you up tomorrow after work and take you to
the bluff hole?”
“Bluff hole?”
He smiled. “That’s what the locals call one of the swimming holes. Can you
swim?”
“Like a fish.” She hesitated. “You mean in a creek?”
His eyes sparkled. “Sure. You’ll love it. The water’s cool and refreshing - just
the thing after a hot day of work.”
She was remembering the view of the creek from the bridge - and the brush
choking its banks.
“What about snakes?”
“They don’t come out into the water very often when people are swimming. Stay
away from the weeds and rocks and you won’t have to worry about them.” He grinned.
“You’re not afraid of snakes, are you?”
She met his taunting gaze. “Let’s just say I’m not in the habit of swimming with
them.” She leaned on the weed whip. “How can you swim in that water when you
know snakes might be lurking under the surface?”
He laughed. “More than likely they’ll be swimming on top of the water in plain
sight.
You can tell the poisonous ones because they lift their heads out of the water
while they swim.”
She caught her breath. “Poisonous? You mean they have rattle snakes out
here?”
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He nodded. “Yeah, but near the water you mostly see copperheads and water
moccasins. Don’t worry, though. Most of the snakes in the water are harmless.”
“Harmless?” She echoed in a shaken tone. “I didn’t know there was such a thing
as a harmless snake.”
He chuckled. “Oh, come on now. You swim in the ocean, don’t you . . . or do
you stay on the beach all the time to avoid the sharks?
My guess is that you accept
the slim possibility that a shark might get you, and swim in the ocean anyway.”
Was it a guess or had Denton filled him in? Denton was the one who hated to
swim in the ocean. He didn’t like the salt and sand that clung to his skin and clothes.
His caution to her about the sharks hadn’t discouraged her, though, as he had
intended. On the other hand, it might not have been anything Denton had said. After
all, her decision to run off to Arkansas might have convinced Keaton that she was
something of a daredevil.
Whatever the case, a refreshing swim sounded more inviting than the movies.
Besides, if Keaton wasn’t genuinely interested, he could have made good his escape
when she declined the movie invitation. She shrugged.
“I guess you’re right.”
He smiled warmly. “About five, then?”
“All right, but you’d better watch for snakes.”
That night she finally slept. No doubt due to exhaustion. After a breakfast of dry
cereal, she donned the work gloves she had brought and retrieved the weed whip from
the shed. With each stroke she was more adept, and by noon the brush was an
acceptable distance from the house. She found a hand saw in the shed and cut down
several small trees and some sumac bushes. She studied the berry-like seeds that
grew in a cluster at the top of the bush. What would the tea taste like? What was its
use? She had been familiar with most herbs and their uses since she was a child, due
to her father’s business, but she had never actually seen the herbs growing. They were
always in bottles or packages. Muldrow had said the land was overgrown with edible
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53
plants. She glanced at the woods. What was out there? She dropped the sumac
bush. Surely it wouldn’t be too dangerous to walk a little way into the woods and look
around. As long as she could see the cabin, she wouldn’t get lost.
Toting the weed whip, she cautiously approached the edge of the woods.
Working her way along the edge, she finally found an entrance point - something that
looked like an old trail. She glanced back at the cabin and started down the trail.
Every few minutes she looked back to make sure she could see the cabin.
The forest floor was rocky, with occasional yellow flowers and some kind of
ground cover with tiny blue flowers. Disentangling a thorny bush from her jeans, she
pushed on until she spotted a bush with dark blue berries. Plucking one from the bush,
she rolled the berry in her hand, removing the powdery haze from its surface. It looked
like a blueberry.
A little further on, strange fuzzy green pods protruded from the straight branches
of another bush. Overhead she finally saw something she recognized . . . grapes. She
reached up and plucked a reddish colored grape from the cluster and wiped it on her
shirt. She popped it into her mouth and bit down on it. Instead of the sweet taste she
expected, it was bitter - like alum. She spit it out and wiped her mouth. Was it actually
a grape, or some poisonous berry? It was stupid to eat something from the woods
without having someone to advise her. It was unwise to be in the forest knowing so
little about it. She turned to go back and stopped, catching her breath. The cabin was
no longer in sight.
Don’t panic. She glanced around and spotted a familiar tree. Wasn’t that where
she had seen the tiny blue flowers? When she reached the tree, she could see the
cabin. She let out a long breath. That was close. A vine hung across the trail and
when she reached to push it away, it fell on her arm. She screamed and frantically
clawed the slender green snake from her arm. It dropped to the ground and slid into
the underbrush.
She shuddered, glancing anxiously at the canopy of branches
overhead. There could be a dozen of them up there, but she wouldn’t be able to see
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them.
She hurried from the forest, vowing she would never go back. How many other
reptiles lurked in the trees and brush, ready to waylay anyone bold enough to enter
their territory?
By the time she reached the house, her legs were itching. What now - poison
ivy? She pulled her pants leg up to reveal an army of tiny brown insects. She tried to
brush them off, but they clung desperately to her skin. Rushing to the bathroom, she
stripped and showered, washing the bugs off with soap and hot water.
Refreshed and clean, she made herself a sandwich of lunch meat and scratched
her way through half of a novel before she gave up and went to the bathroom to search
for some kind of ointment. Little red bumps were coming up around her waistline and
on her ankles. She didn’t bring any calamine lotion because she had never broken out
with poison ivy before.
She had thought she was immune, but maybe she was
susceptible to the Arkansas species.
As five O’clock approached, she was beginning to wish she hadn’t told Keaton
that she would go with him. How could she have let him talk her into swimming in a
creek where snakes slithering around in the nearby bushes?
The little blue car pulled up in her drive at exactly five and she didn’t have her
swimming suit on. She met Keaton at the door, scratching at a new spot under the
band of her bra in the back.
His smile was disarming. “Ready?”
She made a face. “Not really.”
He sobered, his amber gaze expressing concern.
“What’s wrong?”
She grimaced, scratching along her waistband. “I think I’ve got poison ivy. I
don’t understand it. I’ve been around poison ivy before and I didn’t break out. I didn’t
even see any poison ivy today.”
He frowned. “Are you sure it’s poison ivy?”
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55
She frowned up at him. “What else?”
He shrugged. “Let me see.”
She modestly lifted her shirt a little and gently pulled the waistband down far
enough to reveal the angry red bumps.
He examined the bumps and smiled. “That’s not poison ivy. It’s chiggers.”
“Chiggers?” she said. “What are chiggers?”
“Well, they’re little red . . . “ he hesitated. “never mind. You don’t want to know.
Do you have any clear fingernail polish?”
“Fingernail polish?” she parroted again. “What for?”
He leaned against the door jam, smiling down at her tolerantly.
“Put a dab of it on each bump and it’ll kill . . . I mean, it’ll make the bumps go
away after a few days, and it’ll stop itching right now.”
What would it kill? He was probably right. More than likely she didn’t want to
know. She shrugged.
“Yes, I have some. I’ll go put it on now.”
In the bathroom she painted the little bumps, wincing as the sting burned the itch
away. Donning her bathing suit, she emerged from the bathroom and handed the
bottle of fingernail polish to Keaton.
“Would you put some on the one on my back?”
“Sure.” He gently painted the bump, apologizing when she winced at the pain.
“It’s all right. Anyone stupid enough to go wandering in the woods deserves this.”
She turned around and took the bottle from his hand.
He frowned. “You went into the woods alone?”
She screwed the cap tight and scowled back at him.
“Don’t start in on me. I don’t need a lecture. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ve been
scratching all day.”
He smiled. “I hate to tell you this, but you probably got the chiggers while you
were cutting the grass. I should have warned you to wear some kind of repellent.”
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“Gee, thanks,” she said sarcastically.
She glanced at the lawn. The heat of the sun had withered the cut foliage and it
was unsightly. A day wasted.
“Anyway,” Keaton continued in a stern tone that wasn’t unlike her father’s, “you
could get lost in the woods, or even injured. If you’d like to explore, why don’t you let
me go with you?”
She glanced up at him. Another invitation?
He must be getting bored with
watching her. At any rate, a stroll through the woods with him sounded inviting.
They left the house and headed for the swim area. Keaton pulled the car off the
road into a grassy parking area beside the creek and shut off the engine. “We’re in
luck. We’re the first ones here tonight.”
She glanced around at the deserted area beside the creek.
The black remains
of a fire indicated that people did more than swim. For the first time, she wondered if
she had made the right choice in coming with him today. After all, what did she know
about him?
“Do a lot of people come here?”
“Sure, it’s the best swimming hole around here.”
He opened the door and stepped out, pealing off his shirt and shucking his jeans.
“Come on. Let’s go swim.”
Keaton was a strange combination . . . sometimes shy, sometimes bold. She
followed him to the rocky beach and removed her shoes and beach robe. The rocks
were deceptively sharp and the coldness of the water increased the sensitivity of the
soles of her feet. She winced and moaned with every step. The angle of decent was
mercilessly gradual and her feet were sore by the time she was in icy water up to her
knees. Unwilling to go on, she stopped and hugged herself, watching Keaton plunge
into the water. How could he stand the cold?
He surfaced and noticed she was standing still.
“Come on. It’s not bad once you get into it.”
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57
“I can’t walk any further,” she lied. “The rocks hurt my feet.” Her teeth were
already chattering.
His dripping frame emerged from the water and he strode toward her as if the
bottom of the creek were sand.
For a moment she thought he was going to give up
swimming. Instead, he slipped an arm behind her back and one under her legs. He
scooped her into his arms and started for the deeper water.
His actions were far too bold, and yet the feel of his warm muscular torso was
comforting. She squirmed.
“Put me down. I’m not a baby.”
He chuckled. “I know. You’re a little sissy.” With that he dumped her into the
water.
The icy water robbed her of breath and she came up sputtering and treading
water.
“You stupid idiot!” She cried sharply. “You could have drowned me!”
“Aw, shut up and stand up.” His voice had an edge that belied the smile on his
lips.
She allowed her feet to touch the bottom and stood. The water came to her
chest. She pulled her hair back from her face and wiped the water from her eyes. She
frowned up at him through wet lashes.
The deep amber eyes mocked her.
“That’s as deep as it gets, you little pansy. What’s the matter?
I thought you
said you could swim - or is that only in salt water?”
He cupped his hand and dashed water into her face.
She gasped and rubbed the water from her eyes again. He flipped water at her
again and she turned away, swimming strongly for the bluff on the other side of the
creek. His voice followed her.
“Stay away from the rocks. There could be snakes.”
She rolled over and smoothly converted to a backstroke in the opposite direction.
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A Tutelarius Love
She was getting used to the water and it felt good, but she would have preferred a
swim in the ocean. She ducked under the water and swam a short distance before
surfacing to make sure she wasn’t close to any rocks. As she wiped the water from
her eyes, something bumped her shoulder. From the corner of her eye she saw the
long dark shape and screamed. She slapped water at it, and screamed again when
she felt a sharp pain in her hand. Was it poisonous? She scrambled behind Keaton,
still splashing water at the dark form that followed her wake. Some vaguely sane part
of her mind protested that it was a cowardly thing to do, but panic had the upper hand.
Keaton, on the other hand, wasn’t the least bit cowardly. In fact, he reached out
and plucked the stick from the water.
Keaton doubled over with laughter. “I hope it didn’t bite you,” he finally managed,
and then burst into a fresh bout of laughter.
She staggered back and her foot slipped on a smooth stone, spilling her into the
water again. Scrambling to her feet again, she stumbled to shallow water. There she
finally gave up and sat down, burying her face in her hands. The burning in her eyes
had little to do with the creek water, and after such a cowardly display, she didn’t want
him to catch her crying. Her stomach was still tied in knots, and she clutched her
knees to her chest, shivering in the cold creek water.
This phobia about snakes was
thwarting her attempts at independence. Somehow she had to conquer it - but how?
Water splashed as Keaton strode toward her and strong hands gripped her arms,
lifting her to her feet.
“Leave me alone,” she snapped. To her horror, her voice ended in a sob.
“Come on, honey,” He spoke gently. “You need to dry off. You’re turning blue.”
The compassion in his voice surprised her and she glanced up at his sober face,
tears coursing down her own. His gaze met hers as he assisted her toward the car.
“I’m sorry. I should have realized you had a phobia about snakes. Let me see
your hand. It’s bleeding.”
An unbelievable amount of blood was pumping from a tiny cut on her hand. He
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
59
examined the cut and patted her on the shoulder.
“It’s not bad, but you need to put something on it. Let’s get you home.”
He wrapped a towel around her shoulders and helped her get into her shoes.
Without taking the time to dress, he threw a towel on the car seat and climbed in. She
glanced at his somber profile several times on the way home, but they never spoke.
At the cabin, she opened the car door and climbed out, clutching the towel
around her shoulders. As she shut the door, she leaned over, looking through the
open window at him.
“I’m sorry I ruined your evening. You don’t have to look after me, you know. I’m
perfectly happy out here by myself. I don’t know much about the plants and wildlife out
here, but I’m learning.”
He glanced at his watch. “You didn’t ruin my evening, and you’re doing just fine.”
He shifted in the seat and cleared his throat. Obviously he wanted to go. She
sighed.
“Well, thanks for the ride . . . and the swim was refreshing. I feel much better
now.”
“That’s good. I’m glad to see you got something out of it besides a cut hand and
the scare of your life.”
Silence fell between them again and he plucked at a loose thread on the seat.
She was boring him to death, but he was too polite to drop her off and run. She
stretched.
“Well, it’s getting late and I’d better get in.
My arms are sore from weed
whipping.” She stepped away from the car. “See you later.”
Actually, she didn’t expect to see him again. From now on he would probably do
his watching from afar - if he didn’t simply tell her father the deal was off.
could she blame him?
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And how
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A Tutelarius Love
Chapter Five
Sleep didn’t come easily that night, and when it finally overtook her, it was filled
with snakes and insects - and worse yet, Denton. She woke in the morning feeling
sore and tired. It was already hot.
She stiffly made her way out of the bedroll and limped to the bathroom. Why was
she torturing herself, when a cool apartment waited vacant in Los Angeles? Yesterday
she had alienated the only person in Arkansas who had shown the slightest interest in
her plight. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Clara seemed to care.
She splashed cool water over her face and washed the sleep from her body. It
wouldn’t help to feel sorry for herself. If she was bored, it was no one’s fault but her
own. How many times had she been told this was a fool’s mission? But was it? A
little suffering never hurt anyone, and already she was beginning to have a new
appreciation for the comforts that she had once taken for granted. When it came right
down to it, why did she have to stay at the cabin?
Why not take a drive into
Fayetteville and do a little shopping? Some of her supplies were getting low, anyway.
Of course, that meant almost four hours of driving back and forth. Where was the
closest town of any reasonable size? Clara would know, and Megan needed to call
her parents anyway. Not that they needed a progress report. They were undoubtedly
getting a daily report from Keaton - which was more than she could do. Apparently the
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
61
area where the cabin sat was a dead spot for cell phones.
After a quick breakfast, she made a list of the items she needed and drove to the
tiny town. Clara smiled a welcome as Megan walked into the store.
“Well, you finally decided to be sociable. How are things going?”
Megan dug around in her purse for some change. “Oh, well enough, I suppose.
I did manage to get all that grass whacked down.” She pulled out her coin purse. “I
figured I’d better call my family before they sent out a search team.”
“Help yourself. Is there anything else you need?”
Megan hesitated. She hated to ask for directions to another store.
“I thought about seeing a movie. Where is the closest theater?”
Any town with a theater should be large enough to have a selection of stores.
Keaton had invited her out. Surely he hadn’t planned to spend four hours on the road.
“Huntsville has one. It’s about eight miles after you reach the highway.”
“Which way?”
“Clara smiled. “I’ll draw you a map while you make your phone call.
“Thanks.” Megan lifted the receiver and dropped change into the slot. The
telephone rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
“Hello.”
“Mom? It’s Megan.”
“Oh, Megan.” The voice warmed. “I was wondering when you would call. Are
you enjoying yourself?”
“Yes. You should see the cabin - you’d love it, and the scenery is fantastic. You
can’t imagine how many trees there are.”
“Don’t get too attached. “Your father is worried you won’t come back.”
“Worried enough to send someone out to keep an eye on me?” She held her
breath.
Mrs. O’Hara laughed. “Funny you should mention that. He was talking about it
this morning, but I think I talked him out of it.”
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A Tutelarius Love
“Good for you.”
Dad would tell Mom what she wanted to hear and then do exactly as he pleased.
Of course, in this case he had already done it and wanted to keep her in the dark.
They exchanged news and details on the climate differences and finally, when
they were talked out, they said their good byes.
Clara was putting the finishing touches on her map when Megan approached the
counter. She explained the map and Megan tucked it in her pocket.
“Thank you. I think I can figure it out.”
“It isn’t as difficult as it looks. Just keep to your right on the main road and you’ll
get to the highway just fine.” Clara cocked her head to one side. “Did Mr. Keaton
come calling yet?”
Megan wished she could stop the flood of color that burned her cheeks.
“Yes. Did you send him?”
Clara sniffed indignantly. “Of course not. Why would I do a thing like that?”
Megan shrugged. “No reason, I guess.” If Clara hadn’t sent him, then Dad had.
“Did you like him?”
“He seemed like a nice sort.” No point in telling Clara about their trip to the
creek. It wasn’t actually a date, anyway. “I’d better get going if I want to make it back
before dark.”
“Be careful and have fun.”
“I will.”
The trip to town was uneventful and it was nearly five before Megan returned.
As she ascended the porch steps, she noticed two books lying in the rocker. She
picked them up and studied the covers. One was about Arkansas Wildlife and the
other about edible plants and healing herbs. No doubt Clara had left them. As she
opened the cover on one, a note fell to the porch. She stooped and picked it up,
reading aloud.
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63
Sorry I missed you. I thought you
might enjoy these.
Justin
So he was still keeping track of her. He must have wondered where she was.
Or maybe he knew. A conversation with Clara would have filled him in. Where was he
now?
Huntsville - looking for her?
Inexplicable relief overshadowed the usual
annoyance at that idea. Would she have been disappointed if he had gone back to
California? Probably, but only because it would mean Denton was right. But then,
Keaton wasn’t seeing her because he was attracted to her. He was merely doing what
he was being paid to do. To that end, he also served a purpose for her – a person in a
sea of strange faces that she could trust.
With the supplies put away, she set up the fan she had purchased, and turned it
on low.
Dropping to one of the benches, she opened one of the books and leafed
through the colorful pages, pausing when she recognized a plant. The description
under “huckleberries” was basically the same as for blueberries.
Another page
informed her that the opaque green berries on the thorny vines were gooseberries.
Both were edible.
She lifted the hair off the back of her neck and read on, but the sticky heat was
too distracting. A cool shower would help. The water bill was going to be outrageous.
Selecting a pair of shorts and a halter-top to wear around the house, she searched for
something to hold the hair off the back of her neck. A piece of string she found in the
kitchen would suffice.
Grabbing a towel, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Closing
her eyes, she turned her face up to the shower.
What had prompted Keaton to bring the books? Did he suspect she was getting
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bored, or did he assume she would be interested in them because of her profession?
If it hadn’t been for this trip, she might never have known how well she was suited to
her job.
She had always found herbs interesting, but until now they were simply
mystery medicines. Seeing them grow in the wild was exciting. This was where man
had made his first medicines - not from dried herbs on a store shelf, but from the forest
itself.
She toweled off and hurriedly dressed. After a quick supper, she grabbed the
herb book and stepped outside. Again the forest beckoned, but she resisted.
Too
many snakes - and next time she might wander so far she wouldn’t be able to find her
way back.
Even the lawn contained a surprising amount of herbs, and edible plantains grew
everywhere. All this food underfoot and what did mankind do? Mow it down, plow it
under and plant food that had to be tended. She worked her way toward a little yellow
flower and leaned down to examine it.
Something brown lunged from the brush near her face and she screamed,
throwing herself back so hard she lost her balance and fell. The fluffy white tail of a
rabbit bobbed through the brush as the terrified animal bounded away. She stood and
brushed herself off. What if it had been a snake? She was going to have to be more
careful.
A low rumble attracted her attention skyward. Huge thunderheads rose from the
tops of the trees and billowed into the cobalt blue sky.
It was going to rain. Good,
maybe it would cool things down a little. Although a thick layer of clouds hid the sun,
the air wasn’t any cooler. If anything, it was even hotter. The air was still and the heat
stifling. How could the ground be so parched when the air was so waterlogged? She
closed the book and turned to the house. It must be nearly 115 degrees. Even in the
desert the heat had not been so oppressive . . . and one day it had reached over a
hundred. The thermometer nailed to the porch read eighty-five degrees. It had to be
wrong.
The heat was suffocating. She took a deep breath - as much to convince
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
65
herself it was still possible as for need of air. She sighed. At home her apartment
would be cool. She would be getting ready for a dance or the movies - with Denton?
That did it. Thinking of Denton made it much less attractive.
A flash of lightning jerked her attention to the clouds again. The dark base of the
mountainous thunderheads had a greenish tinge. She watched, fascinated, as the
storm crept closer. A jagged bolt of lightning pierced the angry black clouds, and she
moved away from the edge of the porch. In Los Angeles they sometimes had thunder
and lightning, but not like this.
Thunder clapped and echoed through the hills. A gust of wind delivered the
smell of raindrops on parched soil. She glanced at her watch. Seven, and it was
already getting dark.
The wind came suddenly, and with a vengeance, bouncing leaves and small
branches across the yard. With a startled gasp, she dashed into the cabin, struggling
to shut the door against the rising wind. With the door closed, she ran to the window to
gaze in horror as the trees tossed their limbs in protest of the wind. With a clatter and
scrape, the rocking chair turned on its side and skid several feet across the porch.
Lightning flashed brilliantly and thunder rattled the windowpanes in their frames.
The room was filled with dust and the wind whistled through the screens, ruffling
the pages of her book as it lay on the floor. She dashed around, pausing to gape at
the storm as she closed each window securely against its fury. Should she seek
shelter? Where? Another deafening clap of thunder brought her hands instinctively to
her ears. Immediately lightening blazed a trail through the dark sky. She fell to her
knees, still holding her ears, and a sob forced its way through her constricted throat.
The wind screamed around the eves and pounded on the windows. Ominous
black clouds belched flames and roared. And then the rain came, drenching the cabin
as if a giant were emptying a huge bucket. It roared on the tin roof and plunged off the
eves, where the wind caught it and drove it across the yard in horizontal sheets.
Another brilliant bolt of lightning ended in a deafening clap of thunder. With a
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sharp cry, she scrambled to the kitchen and dived under the table. Her heart was
beating wildly as she cowered against one of the benches.
It was a few minutes before she realized the pounding noise was someone
knocking at the door. Who would be out in this weather? She crawled out from under
the table and answered the door. Keaton was standing on the porch, drenched.
“Mr. Keaton! What are you doing out in this storm?”
He stepped past her into the room. “There’s a tornado warning out and I figured
you didn’t have any way of knowing it.” He glanced around the room. “Do you have a
radio?”
“Tornado? Shouldn’t we get in a cellar or something?” Her mouth felt suddenly
dry and goose bumps sprang up all over her bare arms.
He smiled. “There’s nothing to panic about. The chances are slim to none that a
tornado will hit this cabin, as sheltered as it is by the hills. It’s sturdy and you’re
probably as safe here as you would be anywhere close. Certainly it’s safer here than
braving the storm to find shelter.” He was moving quickly toward a window as he
spoke. “Do you have any candles or a flashlight?” At her nod he continued his hurried
instructions. “Go get them and take them to the kitchen.” He checked the windows
while she followed his instructions.
She ran to the bedroom and grabbed the flashlight, pausing only long enough to
check the window there. It was better having something to do. In the bathroom, she
paused long enough to grab a towel, which she tossed at Keaton when she met him in
the kitchen. She glanced up into his calm features.
“Now what?”
He caught the towel and started drying off. “Now we wait it out.” He threw the
towel across his broad shoulders and lowered himself to a bench beside the table.
“Why don’t you make us some coffee?”
He was trying to keep her busy so she wouldn’t have time to think about the
storm. Fat chance. As she filled the coffeepot, she glanced out the window. It was
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Linda. L. Rigsbee
67
dark, but the constant lightning flashes exposed a world of wildly waving branches.
The rain beat on the roof with a steady roar, and thunder cracked like a giant whip.
She flinched and moved away from the window to put the pot over a fire on the range.
The rain stopped as quickly as it had begun, and the room became so quiet that
it hurt her ears.
Behind her, the bench scraped against the floor.
Keaton’s voice was crisp.
“Shut that fire off and get under the table.” She froze with fear and his voice raised an
octave. “NOW!” he commanded.
She responded instinctively to the urgency in his voice. Flipping the dial to the
off position, she dived for the questionable refuge under the table. Keaton was right
behind her, pulling her into a protective embrace. She glanced up at him.
“What is it?”
“A wall cloud, I think.”
“What’s a wall cloud?”
“A funnel cloud. A tornado that isn’t touching the ground.”
Tornado? The lightning was flickering incessantly, but she heard no thunder.
The tree limbs visible through the kitchen window were still.
“But the storm has moved on.”
He laughed without humor. “Don’t you believe it.”
If he was trying to frighten her, he was doing an excellent job. The hair on the
back of her neck felt like it was standing on end. Surely the storm must have moved
on. She struggled to escape his embrace.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull but . . .”
Something exploded outside and she screamed. The lights flickered and then
darkness engulfed the cabin. As Keaton pulled her close, the air was filled with a deep
steady roll of thunder that equaled the sound of a locomotive.
The night air was so
charged with electricity, that she could feel the hair rising on the back of her neck. She
cowered closer into the security of his strong arms.
67
A hollow tearing sound was
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A Tutelarius Love
followed by a horrendous crash outside the kitchen window. The window ruptured,
spraying glass across the kitchen floor.
She buried her face in Keaton’s chest, but the arms encircling her provided little
comfort. Would the cabin collapse around them? Would she die here in the arms of a
virtual stranger - the man her father had sent to protect her?
The sound began as light pecks on the window, and quickly grew to a crescendo
of crashing rocks. She spoke against his chest in a quivering voice.
“What’s that?”
“Hail. Some of them as big as baseballs, looks like.”
She lifted her face from his chest long enough to glance through the kitchen
window and saw the huge white chunks of ice plunging to the ground.
She stared,
fascinated as they bounced off the open windowsill and one fell into the sink.
Gradually the sound abated and Keaton released her.
“I think it’s gone now.”
He pushed the bench aside and slid out from under the table. “Stay here while I
look around a little.”
She pulled her knees to her chest as he walked away, suddenly aware of the
drop in temperature. She shivered until her teeth chattered. Now that the storm had
passed, her taut muscles relaxed and she felt weak. She could hear Keaton moving
around the house and opening the front door. Then she heard his footsteps coming
into the kitchen and saw the bobbing flashlight as he opened the back door. He turned
the beam around the yard and then shut the door.
“You can come out now, it’s over.”
She slid out from under the table and stood, hugging herself and shivering
violently as she peered out the kitchen window into the darkness. It was raining, and in
the brief flashes of lightning, she could see a tree down in the back yard. Thunder
echoed in the distance and lightening flashed.
“Was it a tornado?”
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“Looks like it might have touched down in the field for a minute. I think it got a
transformer.”
“And a tree.” She retrieved the broom from the corner and started sweeping up
the glass.
“I think the wind blew that old maple over. It should have been cut down years
ago. I’ll bring over a chain saw in the morning and cut it up.”
He set the flashlight on the table where it would shine on the floor and started for
the living room.
“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Too bad the darkness didn’t hide the
anxiety in her voice as well as it hid the color in her cheeks.
He stopped. “Not right now. I’m going to see if I can find something to cover that
window.”
“Oh.”
“Do you have another flashlight?”
“No, but I have some candles.”
She opened the refrigerator and removed the
candles she had noticed when she first arrived. This must be the reason the thick
short candles were stored there. How often did these storms strike? The pilot light
had gone out on the stove, so she took a match from the box in the cabinet and lit one
of the candles. She stood and held it in her hand awkwardly.
“Here.” He took a jar lid from the cupboard and lit a match, holding it on the
bottom of the candle until it began to melt. Then he quickly pushed it against the lid
and blew out the match. His teeth sparkled a smile in the candlelight. “How’s that?”
“Great. I’ll use it in here. You can use the flashlight.”
The screen door slammed as he left the house. A few minutes later he returned
with a scrap of wood, some nails and a hammer. He nailed the wood over the window
while she cleaned the rest of the glass from the counter. Then he lit the pilot light and
set the coffeepot over a burner again. He was so calm and collected. And what must
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he think of her? She bit her lower lip and settled down on the bench.
“I thought the house was going to blow away.”
He leaned against the counter and folded arms across his chest.
“I was beginning to wonder there for a little bit, too.”
Was he actually frightened, or was he trying to make her feel better? If he had
been afraid, he had given no indication. She sighed heavily.
“I’m glad you were here. I wouldn’t have known what to do.” Actually, her
instincts before he arrived had apparently been correct.
He nodded, studying her thoughtfully. “I figured an L.A. born girl wouldn’t have
experienced anything like these storms. You don’t have storms out there, do you?”
As if he didn’t know. There was no point challenging him, though. Let him play
his little games. As a matter of fact, right now she was glad Dad had sent him. She
shrugged.
“We have storms, but nothing like this. Do you think there will be any more
tonight? I heard a tornado never strikes twice in the same spot.”
He chuckled. “That’s lightning.” He unfolded his arms and tossed some coffee
into the boiling water. “But the truth is, there’s nothing stopping either of them from
striking in the same spot repeatedly. It isn’t likely, though - for the simple reason that
the odds of a tornado hitting any specific spot once are slim. You see houses a
hundred years old standing in areas where tornadoes occur a number of times a year.”
He found two cups and pored them some coffee.
“It probably won’t get this bad again tonight, but you can never be sure. Another
cell could develop at any time and this could start again all over.”
She shivered. “Gee, now I feel a lot better.”
He chuckled. “I’ll stay for a while longer if it will make you feel better.”
“You’re welcome to stay for a while, but don’t feel obligated to do so because of
me. I’m a big girl.”
He sipped his coffee and a twinkle came into his eyes.
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“I noticed.”
She could feel the color staining her cheeks again. What did he mean? Was he
being sarcastic about the way she acted earlier, or was he referring to the feel of her
body against his? Something about his expression led her to believe he was talking
about the latter. At the time she had been too frightened to notice, but on reflection,
being held in his arms wasn’t all that unpleasant either. She blushed and changed the
subject.
“I’d hate to live in this area. A few more storms like this and I’d have to buy a
wig.”
His eyes were soft in the candlelight as he surveyed her jumbled mass of curls.
At some point it had broken its bounds and now cascaded down her shoulders and
back.
“That would be a shame,” he responded.
She blushed again. “Thanks.”
He swirled the coffee in his cup, examining it absently.
“I suppose people can get used to anything. After all, you live in California in
spite of the earthquakes.”
True. She sank to a bench and sipped on her coffee, letting its warmth invaded
her body and relax her stiff muscles. At some point she dozed, and when she lifted her
head, he was asleep, his head cradled on one arm as he slumped over the table.
She quietly rose from the bench. No point in waking him now. She would take a
little nap and then wake him later. By then he would be rested enough to drive home
safely.
In her room, she crawled into the sleeping back fully dressed. Zipping the bag up
against the chill of the night, she fell asleep immediately.
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Chapter Six
She woke with the feeling that she was being watched. Opening her eyes, she
rolled over in the sleeping bag.
Keaton was lounging in the doorway, nursing a steaming cup of coffee. He
sipped the hot liquid and winced.
“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” he drawled.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“It’s morning already?”
She stared at the pattern of sunlight on the floor. Why was he still here? Oh yes,
the storm. The last time she had seen him, he had been slumped at the table, yet he
looked refreshed now. She frowned.
“Where did you sleep?”
His eyes twinkled with the very devil, but his expression and tone were
incredulous.
“In that sleeping bag - with you. Don’t you remember?”
He was so much like her father - the same offhanded delivery of humor. She
lifted the edge of the sleeping bag to demonstrate that there wasn’t room for two
people in it. Touching a hand to her mouth, she stifled a feigned yawn of boredom.
“Oh, I forgot.”
He laughed. “Get out of that bedroll you lazy pup. I’ve got breakfast ready.”
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She caught her breath.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”
She unzipped the bag and climbed out, realizing with a surge of blood to her face
that she was still scanty clad in her shorts and halter-top.
His casual regard lingered on her long legs and returned to her flushed face. His
eyes came alive with humor again.
“Nice legs.”
Without another word, he turned and strode away.
Buttoning a long shirt over her clothes, she joined him in the kitchen, where he
was scooping scrambled eggs into two plates. He must be starving. Had he eaten
supper, or had he been too occupied with taking care of her? Warmth flooded her face
again as she spoke.
“You must think I’m a terrible coward.”
He glanced up sharply and noted the color in her cheeks.
“Not at all. I was the one who came pounding on your door, not the other way
around . . . remember?”
She made a face. “Are you trying to tell me that you came out here because you
were afraid of the storm?”
He grinned. “No, but you were going to stick it out by yourself. You didn’t ask for
help, did you?”
He slid the frying pan into the sink and ran water into it.
No, she wouldn’t have asked for help. She would have coward under the table
all night, too frightened to go for help. Yet, for whatever reason, she had been willing
to endure her fear alone. She could have made it without the help of Denton, Dad, or
the man he had sent. It was a good feeling.
After breakfast Keaton retrieved a portable razor from his car. Megan watched
as he stood in front of the mirror and shaved. As he removed the beginnings of a
mustache from his upper lip, he glanced at her in the mirror and grinned.
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“What are you doing?”
Her face warmed again as she realized she had been pulling her upper lip down
over her teeth. She stared down at her hands.
“Helping you shave, I guess. I always used to help Dad that way.”
Engulfed by a wave of homesickness, she turned away, shrugging off the
unexpected emotion. From the corner of her eye she noticed Keaton watching her.
He returned his attention to the mirror, pausing briefly to speak.
“You and your Father are close?”
“Annoyingly so.”
Before he could question the issue further, she escaped into the kitchen. She
started cleaning the dishes, thinking all the while that he was too much like her father.
Perhaps that was why she found him so attractive.
A melted candle lay on the counter, a reminder of the storm, but the lights were
working. She called to Keaton as she cleaned up the mess.
“When did the electricity come on?”
He emerged from the bathroom, looking clean and refreshed.
“Just about the same time the sun came up. The electric company has probably
been working all night.” He tucked the razor in his shirt pocket. “Speaking of working,
I’d better get going. I’m going to be late.”
She smiled shyly. “I hope your boss doesn’t get angry.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”
Of course not.
His boss was over two-thousand miles away and, while he
wouldn’t be too happy about Keaton spending the night with her, he would certainly
approve of any hours spent watching over her.
She followed him out on the porch,
gasping as a gust of cold wind met them.
“How can it be so hot one day and so cold the next?” She clutched the shirt
close as she lifted her chin to search his face imploringly.
In that brief moment, they looked into each other’s eyes. He gazed down at her
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for a moment with an expression that made her heart flutter. If the amused expression
on his face was any indication, he detected her heightened awareness. Finally, he
shrugged.
“Cold front.”
Without warning, he leaned down and kissed her lips lightly. Before she could
fully comprehend the action, he casually straightened and stretched. His rich drawl
betrayed no more emotion than his words.
“Well, gotta go. See ya later.”
With that, he stepped off the porch and strode to his car, leaving her staring open
mouthed at his retreating back.
Had he actually kissed her? She clamped her mouth shut. Of course he had like a big brother. He was merely watching over her - or was he? Was it wishful
thinking, or was there a mutual attraction between them?
She watched his car disappear down the road and shook her head.
It was
pointless to even consider the idea. When his job was finished, she would never see
him again.
She walked around the side of the house to appraise the damage. A huge maple
tree had barely missed the house. One branch lay broken against the house and the
corner of the roof was damaged. She would have to report the damage, and that
meant a trip to town and a call to Scott Muldrow. She might as well call Dad at the
same time. Maybe it would put him on his toes if she mentioned Keaton.
She showered and dressed in warmer clothes, locked the house door, and
descended the steps to the car. The sun reflected across several large dents in the
hood and roof. She moaned. Now it would be a trip to Fayetteville so the rental
agency could verify the cause of damage - and then a call to her auto insurance
company. Well, there was no point in putting it off.
The trip to Fayetteville didn’t seem as long - maybe because this time she was
expecting a long journey. In any case, by noon all of her business was conducted
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except calling her father.
This time her cell phone worked and a deep voice
answered.
“Megan?” His voice brought a fresh surge of homesickness.
“None other. Is the business still operating without me?”
He chuckled. “Barely. Are you ready to come home?”
“Sure, in three more weeks.”
He chuckled again. “Having fun, are you? I’m glad to hear it.” He hesitated.
“Made any new friends yet?”
“Mm, just Clara, at the store.”
He was fishing. Why not take the bait and tell him about Keaton. That was what
he was wanting to hear about, anyway. She caught her breath.
“Oh, and a devastatingly handsome chicken farmer.”
There was a pause and he finally cleared his throat.
“Now don’t take up with some smooth talking country boy just because you’re
lonely.”
His voice held an edge. Now he was worried she was getting serious about the
investigator. Let him worry a little more. He deserved it for being so sneaky.
“Lonely? Oh, he doesn’t give me a chance to get lonely. Every time I turn
around, there he is - watching over me, I guess.
Why do you suppose he’s so
interested in me?”
“How would I know?” His voice fairly boomed over the phone. “It sounds like
you need to set him straight.”
She suppressed a giggle. It was sinful to get so much pleasure out of another
person’s predicament. Maybe a wee bit more fun. Then lower the boom.
“Set him strait about what?”
“About you . . . that he’s not supposed to . . . that you’re coming back here home, in a few weeks, or less.”
Colin O’Hara flustered? She sighed audibly.
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“Oh for heaven’s sake, Dad. Do you really think I’m that gullible?”
“Gullible?” He paused. “Oh, you were stringing me along.” His breath came out
in a long sigh of relief. “Don’t do that. You had me worried senseless. I guess I had it
coming, though. It’s a habit of mine, you know - watching after you.”
“I know, but it’s one you need to kick. I’m beginning to feel smothered instead of
loved.”
“I’m sorry. I promise to work on it.”
Sorry? Was there another side to Dad? Of course, mostly she had viewed him
as a parent, not a person. Suddenly all the fun drained out of teasing him.
“I know I’m lucky to have someone so concerned about me, but I guess I don’t
act very grateful sometimes.”
“Now don’t get mushy on me.” His voice was gruff. “You’ll have us both in tears.”
Her throat was constricting with emotion, so she responded flippantly.
“I’m going to be in tears when I get my bill this month if I don’t get off this phone.
I’ve got to go. It’s a long drive back.”
“Where are you?”
She explained why she was in Fayetteville and mentioned that Keaton had
braved the storm to be with her. He had done so at considerable risk to himself and
deserved the credit.
“Sounds like you’re in good hands. Tell your chicken farmer I’m obliged to him
for watching over you. Maybe Santa will put a little extra something in his stocking this
year.”
“I’m sure he figures it’s all in a days’ work.”
He laughed shortly. “You figure taking care of one more critter is no big deal?”
“Not for a farmer,” she giggled. It was nice to have the air cleared between them.
Hopefully Dad would talk to Keaton and there would be no more cat and mouse
games.
She did a little shopping and drove home, humming a tune.
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beginning to work out now. Maybe there would be time for a little fun after all. But
what was there to do around here? Maybe Keaton would know. He seemed to know a
lot about Arkansas.
Keaton’s car was parked in the drive when she arrived, but he was nowhere in
sight. As she climbed the porch steps, a chopping sound drifted from the back yard.
Unlocking the door, she hurried through the house, dropping the packages on the
table. Exiting the cabin through the back door, she found Keaton, stripped to the waist.
His muscular back glistened with perspiration as he swung the ax, expertly splitting a
chunk of wood. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Indigo jeans clung to his lean
hips, but he still wore the white sneakers. He turned to pick up the scattered pieces of
wood and caught her watching him.
She caught her breath as warmth invaded her face. She glanced around, trying
to avoid his amused gaze.
“It looks like you’ve been busy.”
“You weren’t here, so I started without you.”
She breathed a little easier. At least he was considerate enough not to comment
on her obvious interest in his physique.
“I had to take the car back to the rental company because it had hail damage.
They gave me another one to use until my lease is up.”
He looked perplexed. “Leased?”
“Sure. You didn’t think I bought one to use for four weeks, did you?” Why was
he looking at her like that? And then she knew. Of course. He probably thought she
had unlimited funding. He swung the ax again.
“I had hail damage to my car as well.”
“I’m sorry. At least yours is an old car. I saw some expensive new ones today
that were all beat up. I’ll bet someone was really paying out the bucks.”
“Just an old car?” His tone was indignant. “Calling a ‘65 mustang just an old car
is like saying L.A. is just another town. It would be less expensive to repair the new
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car. Everything on mine is original - including the paint job.”
“Is it an antique?”
He smiled wryly. “An old clock is an antique. A car is a classic.”
She grinned.
“I stand corrected.”
She stepped off the porch and glanced
around. “Can I help?”
He mopped his forehead. “Why don’t you fix us some iced tea?”
Why did men always give women the menial chores?
“I can do physical labor, you know.”
He shrugged and offered her the ax.
“Fine. You chop the wood and I’ll make us some iced tea.”
She gripped the ax handle. “You think I can’t do it, don’t you?”
He grinned. “You never know until you try.” He turned and strode to the house,
entering without a backward glance.
She tugged at one of the chunks of wood until she had it sitting straight on the
stump, as he had done. Taking a few steps back she gripped the ax half way down on
the handle and slammed it down against the block of wood with a dull whack. The ax
blade went about an inch into the wood. She pulled it loose and swung harder. This
time the ax sank about four inches into the wood - in another spot. A small crack
traveled about half way down the piece of wood. After a full minute of tugging and
grunting she managed to dislodge the ax from the wood. How did he make it look so
easy? She slid her hands further back on the handle, as she had seen him holding it.
Again she swung the ax, and this time it went half way through the log. After a few
more swings she finally had the wood in two pieces. She beamed up at Keaton as he
approached with two glasses of iced tea. His eyes were twinkling, but he maintained a
sober expression.
“Very good.”
She relinquished the ax for the glass of tea.
“I’m sorry about your car.
If it hadn’t been for me, it might not have been
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damaged.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “How so?”
“If you hadn’t felt it necessary to warn me about the storm, your car wouldn’t
have been here when it hailed.”
He lounged against the side of the house, regarding her thoughtfully. His amber
eyes had a way of darkening with emotion, but why were they so dark now? He
swirled the ice cubes around in his glass.
“What makes you think my car would have been spared if I hadn’t been here? It
wouldn’t have been under shelter at my apartment, either.” He took a long drink and
lowered the glass. “Anyway, I take a chance every time I drive it. I can’t bear the
thought of selling it, and I can’t afford to park it, buy another one and pay insurance on
both.
She held the cool glass to the side of her face and gazed out over the hills.
“I know what you mean. I’ve been saving my money to buy a house.”
The hills were beautiful. If this cabin had only been in the California hills, instead
of so many miles away, it would make an excellent investment. A sudden gust of wind
ruffled the leaves of the trees, creating a sound much like the surf.
A wave of
homesickness engulfed her, and she struggled back to the firm ground of reality. This
was a vacation, not an isolation camp. In a few more weeks she would return to
California.
But what about the dark eyed man who stood gazing down at her so
strangely?
He gulped the rest of his tea and handed her the empty glass.
“Well, I’d better get chopping.”
He was certainly a hard worker, but why did he consider it his responsibility to
clear the fallen tree? Surely this couldn’t be included in his duties. Of course, it
provided an excellent opportunity to keep an eye on her. Or could it be something
else? Was it so outrageous to think that he might actually want to be near her? She
dodged a flying chip. It was probably wishful thinking - nothing more.
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The sun was well past its zenith and headed toward the trees on the west side of
the cabin. A stomach cramp reminded her that she hadn’t eaten lunch. She glanced
at his muscular frame, trying to keep her mind on the business at hand - supper, wasn’t
it? He was probably hungry too. She waited until he split a piece of wood and then
walked over to pick it up.
“Had supper yet?” she asked flippantly.
“Nope.” He hefted the ax to his shoulder and grinned down at her. “Are you
offering to cook?”
There wasn’t much in the house to eat, but they could get something at Clara’s
store. She wrinkled her nose.
“No, I’m offering to take you out to dinner.”
The smile instantly faded and a wary expression took its place. He lifted the ax,
taking aim at a new block of wood. “No thanks.” With one stroke he lopped the wood
in half. “I’ll get something at the store before I go home.”
A hot flush warmed her cheeks again. Why the sudden change?
“I suppose it would be a lot of trouble to get ready, and you must be tired. I’ll fix
something here.”
She took a step toward the house and waited, but he didn’t respond. Now what
was that all about?
In the house, she removed her camping cookware from the cabinet and started
scraping together some semblance of a meal. Placing some eggs into a saucepan she
ran enough water to cover them and placed them over a fire on the stove. She opened
the cupboards and glanced over her meager supply of canned goods. What would he
like?
Using instant potatoes she managed to make a passable potato salad and
opened a can of baked beans. It wasn’t much, but with the cold cuts it made a filling
meal. She put on a pot of coffee and called him to eat.
He arrived in the kitchen with his shirt on and smiled as he sank to the bench in
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front of the plate she had filled for him.
“It looks good. You didn’t have to put yourself out, though. Sandwiches would
have been fine.”
She leaned over to pour his coffee and let one hand rest on his shoulder.
“You’re trying to make me feel good again. This is a makeshift meal at best.”
He glanced at her hand and shifted in his chair uncomfortably.
She hastily
withdrew her hand, her cheeks burning again. Why was he suddenly so uncomfortable
around her?
She returned the coffeepot to the stove and dropped to the bench
opposite him.
“Have I done something to offend you?”
He glanced up sharply. “No. What made you ask that?”
She shrugged. “You didn’t want to go out to dinner with me, and just now you
practically cringed when I touched you.”
He stirred his potato salad thoughtfully. “You come right to the point, don’t you?”
“Is there something wrong with that? Why waste time beating around the bush?”
She spread some salad dressing on a piece of bread. Had Dad already talked to
him?
He watched silently as she made her sandwich, and then as she took a bite he
responded.
“What’s the matter? Am I moving too slow for you?”
She nearly choked on the sandwich, and washed it down with some coffee.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she managed to gasp.
“I don’t like to rush into a relationship.” His dark eyes were dancing with humor.
“What relationship? We don’t have a relationship. We hardly even know each
other.”
He casually spooned a bite of potato salad into his mouth and methodically
chewed and swallowed it.
“Have you already forgotten the night we spent together?”
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83
If it hadn’t been for the obvious humor in his eyes, she would have sworn he was
serious.
“Go ahead. Laugh your head off. I’m nothing but a joke to you, am I?”
She didn’t intend to sound so injured.
He sobered instantly.
“I’m sorry. Call me old fashioned, but I like to do the asking.”
She stared at him. “You mean you’d pass up a free dinner just because it was a
woman who did the asking?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I like to do the asking.”
She pointed her fork at him. “That’s a cop out. Men use that excuse as a means
of retaining complete control. That way they have the woman reserved while they
shop around.”
He scowled. “It’s a matter of personal preference. Don’t analyze it to death.”
She wiped her mouth with a paper towel and picked up her plate.
“I’m not analyzing it. I’m simply stating that I’m not leaving my destiny to the
whim of a man.”
He stood. “Great. Now we each know where the other stands.” He glanced at
his watch. “I’ve got to get back to my apartment.” Picking up his dishes, he set them in
the sink and left the kitchen.
Now he was angry, and who could blame him? What had gotten into her? He
couldn’t be right, could he? Sure, only three weeks of her vacation remained, and it
would be fun to have someone to enjoy them with, but she was hardly looking for a
serious relationship. She dropped her plate into the sink with a loud clatter. Who was
she fooling?
Under different circumstances she would be openly encouraging his
attention - the circumstances being, if Dad hadn’t sent him.
Was that what was
bothering Keaton? Had he been instructed to keep everything strictly business?
Keaton’s steps faded toward the front door and then hesitated before turning
back to the kitchen. She glanced up from wiping the table as he peaked around the
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door, his eyes sparkling with humor again.
“Well, are you going to kiss me good-by, or not?”
Her heart skipped a beat, but she tossed the dishrag in the sink and responded
nonchalantly.
“I don’t know. Are you sure you won’t be offended?”
He shrugged as he stepped through the doorway.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m cranky lately. I quit smoking and I’m taking it out on
everyone.”
“You quit smoking?” With a rush of hot blood through her neck she remembered
their exchange the first day. She hadn’t seen him smoke since.
“Because of me?”
He smiled wryly. “That would be an excellent reason, but actually, I quit for me.”
He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling again. “Now, where’s my reward?”
“Oh, yes. The good-bye kiss.” She sauntered over to him with her hands behind
her back. Standing on her tiptoes, she planted a kiss on his cheek. “Bye.”
She stepped back quickly, but before she realized what he was going to do, he
swept her into his arms. Her last coherent thought as he lowered his head to kiss her
lips was that he was right. This moment had been too long in the coming. And then
his lips were warm on hers, seeking and finding emotions she never knew she
possessed. She lay limp in his arms, startled and afraid to respond - afraid the kiss
meant nothing to him.
When he finally released her, she stumbled back, her heart
racing wildly.
He took her chin in his hand and his dark sober gaze sought hers.
“Lesson one. If you’re serious about wanting to see someone again, you’d better
give them a good night kiss they’ll remember.”
She caught her breath. Then the kiss had meant something to him. A tingle
began in her chest and radiated through her entire body. She pushed his hand away
from her chin. “Like this?” Her voice was barely a whisper as she boldly slipped her
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arms around his neck and guided his lips to hers again. Warm hands encircled her
waist and drew her body against his.
She pressed closer, snuggling against the
firmness of his muscular chest. And then he was gently pushing her away.
He smiled down at her when she searched his face for a reason.
“Unless you’ve got a bigger sleeping bag, we’d better stop now.”
A warm flush slowly crept up her neck and flooded her face. What must he think
of her? Had she completely lost her mind? With such a passionate response, what
could he think? Now was the time to set him strait. She moved a safe distance away
and tried to put on a composed front.
“I only have one sleeping bag, and it will only accommodate one person. Until
I’m married, I see no reason to get a larger one.”
He chuckled. “I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”
As she watched him drive away, she marveled at the difference between him and
Denton. Why did she feel so depressed when she was with Denton and so elated
when she was with Keaton - Justin? For the first time she spoke his given name. It
sounded melodic.
In spite of her bold kiss, he still realized she was conservative
enough to say no. For some reason, his respect was important - even crucial.
Denton was flashier, more polished and ever the gentleman in his behavior. Of
course, Denton wasn’t physically attracted to her - nor was she to him. Her cheeks
burned anew as she recalled what would hereafter be etched in her mind as the kiss.
Never had a kiss affected her so dynamically. Could it have been mutual? If only she
could be certain his interest wasn’t inspired by thoughts of monetary gain. Who was
he? Why had he been chosen, and why had he accepted the job?
She sighed. If his interest in her was feigned, what harm was there in playing
along? “Forewarned is forearmed,” she quoted under her breath. Whether he was
pretending or not, his casual compliments and positive attitude were making her
vacation days more enjoyable than any of the last 360 days of her life. Why not simply
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enjoy his companionship? What was it Justin had said?
“Don’t analyze it to death.”
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Chapter Seven
Megan woke with a start. Had she heard a woman scream? She held her
breath, listening to the night sounds. An owl hooted outside the bedroom window, its
eerie call prickling her skin with goose bumps. She waited in tense silence, but heard
nothing unusual. Slowly she relaxed.
It must have been a dream.
Glancing at the
iridescent numbers on her alarm clock, she discovered it was only two a.m. She
dropped back to her pillow and yawned
The sound caught her by surprise - a blood-curdling scream that could be
nothing less than a woman in agonizing pain. In one frantic move, she threw back the
covers and darted for the light switch. Her foot became tangled in the bedroll and she
sprawled on the floor.
Barely noticing the taste of blood on her lip, she kicked the
bedroll away and scrambled awkwardly to her feet again. In the dark room, she felt the
wall for the switch. Her fingers closed over the cool plastic, and the room flooded with
light. Again the night was silent. She found her flashlight and ran to the front door.
What was happening out there? She glanced around the room for something to use in
self-defense. The wise thing to do would be to stay in the house, but what about the
woman? She couldn’t leave her out there with . . . what? She unlocked the door and
turned on the flashlight. Opening the door a crack, she listened to the night. Nothing.
She searched the porch for snakes and then stepped outside.
The night ripped in two with another scream, startling her so bad that she
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dropped the flashlight.
The beam of light extinguished and she felt around with
trembling hands until she located the flashlight. Turning the light back on, she pointed
the beam on the area where the scream seemed to originate. Nothing.
She stood transfixed, afraid to speak for what seemed an hour, but was probably
closer to a minute. Slowly she backed through the door and locked it. Would she be
next? She ran to the kitchen and searched for a something sharp, settling for a rusty
old butcher knife. Oh, for a telephone. Should she try to make a dash for the car?
Someone might be waiting outside.
Where was Justin now? She sat down at the table, listening for any sound of
movement around the house. Once again she tried the cell phone, with the same
results. It was as if this backward country wanted to stay that way. The hours passed
without another scream and she was still sitting at the table when the first rays of
morning light warmed the kitchen.
She climbed stiffly from the bench and went from window to window, studying the
area around the cabin. Finally she threw the knife on the counter. What ever had
happened, no one was out there now. She went to the bedroom and stretched out on
the bedroll.
She woke from a dream that a woman was pounding on her door and then
realized that there actually was someone at the front door. She struggled up from the
blankets and staggered through the living room. The house was hot and stuffy. She
pulled the curtain back from the window on the door. It was Justin.
She dropped the curtain and ran shaking fingers through her hair as she opened
the door.
“I didn’t expect you.”
His quick glance took her in from head to toe.
“Obviously. Do you always sleep this late?”
She glowered at him. “What’s it to you?”
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He stepped through the door and smiled down at her. “Sleep late and wake up
grouchy.” He glanced around. “Why don’t you ever have these windows open?”
It shouldn’t have, but it rubbed her the wrong way. Who was he to march in and
start criticizing? She gave the door a push and it slammed shut.
“Come right in. Have a seat anywhere you like.”
Her tone could have cut through a six-foot thick lead wall.
He swung around and stared at her, his amber gaze growing cool. “I’m sorry I
bothered you.”
He reached for the door.
“Obviously you’re not in any mood for
company.”
The sharpness of his words cut through her thin armor of righteousness. She
touched his arm, gazing up into his dark features.
“Please don’t go.”
The warmth returned to his eyes, chasing a flood of heat up her throat.
She
stared down at her shirt and absently tried to straighten the wrinkles.
“I had a bad night and I didn’t get to sleep until daylight.”
She chanced a glance at him and caught him watching her intently. She bit her
lower lip. Did he think she couldn’t sleep because he wasn’t there?
“I heard a woman screaming.”
“Where?” His voice was controlled.
“In the woods beside the house. I went out on the porch and turned the flashlight
on the spot, but I didn’t see anyone.”
“You went outside?”
His tone was incredulous.
“Didn’t that strike you as
dangerous?”
What gave him the right to cross-examine her like a guardian? One . . . two . . .
three.
She shrugged.
“Maybe it was a little dangerous, but I couldn’t just sit in the
cabin and ignore her. It was awful. It sounded like she was in terrible pain.”
Why was he looking at her like that? A cold fear clutched at her throat. He
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accepted the story about the woman as if it were common place - or maybe it was no
surprise. What did he know about the screaming woman? Was he involved? Could
he have been the cause of her screams? She swallowed down a lump in her throat
and took a step closer to the door. And what did she know about Justin? What did
Dad know about him?
The scowl faded and his eyes twinkled. “For your information, it wasn’t a woman
screaming. It was a catamount.”
“A catamount?” She echoed.
“A Puma, Panther, Mountain Lion - whatever you Californians call them. They
hunt at night. It’s a good thing there’s so much game around here - and you had that
flashlight. You don’t have to lock all your doors and windows, but it would be a good
idea to stay in the house at night.”
She let out her breath in a sigh of relief.
Little did he know what she had
suspected - or how much his use of the word catamount had revealed.
If there had
been a shred of doubt in her mind about who had sent him, it would have been erased
with that term for a mountain lion. Only once in her life had she heard that word.
Once, long ago, her father had entertained a friend from the mountains - an old army
buddy from northern Arizona.
That man had talked about catamounts - and a
grandson who would have been about her age. Although she had never seen Captain
Turner again, letters to her father with his return address on them assured her that they
still kept in touch. Had the Captain’s daughter married a Keaton?
So that was where her father had found someone so familiar with the wilderness
on such short notice. Now the tables were turned. She could pretend she didn’t know
who he was for a while. She smiled warmly up at him.
“I guess it was rather silly of me to step outside under either circumstance, wasn’t
it? I’m afraid I don’t know as much about the wilderness as you Arkies.”
His eyes narrowed. “Arkansawyers, or Arkansans,” he corrected gruffly.
She grinned. “Whatever.”
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He eyed her clothes critically.
91
“Why don’t you go change, and I’ll drive you
around to look at some of God’s country.”
She glanced down at her wrinkled nightclothes and felt a scarlet wave surge up
her neck. This was the second time she had absently stood before him disheveled and
immodest. What must he think of her?
“I . . . I need to shower first.”
His eyes mocked her.
“Alright.
You shower and change and I’ll fix you
something to eat. Then we’ll go.”
She hesitated.
The laundry was one place she hadn’t been yet and her
wardrobe had dwindled down to a few clean items - none of them appropriate for a ride
around the countryside with a man she hardly knew. She gnawed at her lower lip.
“Do you mind if I wear shorts?”
He was turning toward the kitchen as she spoke and he glanced back at her with
an amused expression. He surveyed her bare legs with twinkling eyes, arching a brow
as he spoke.
“Please do.”
She ducked into the bedroom to grab her clothes. What a genial person he was.
She showered and dressed, thinking about his offhanded way of handing out
compliments. Was he shy, or was he simply a casual type of person? He certainly
didn’t seem to get worked up about anything. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The only
things that seemed to upset him were minor things, like asking him out to dinner and
such. He was such a strange and interesting man.
She pulled her wet hair back into a braid at her neck and fluffed the loose tendrils
at her temples into curls. Satisfied with her image in the mirror, she stepped out of the
bathroom and found a plate of scrambled eggs waiting for her in the kitchen.
She laughed. “You’re going to spoil me. What am I going to do when I get back
to my apartment?”
His regard was casual on the surface, but something in his eyes suggested an
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undertone of tension.
“Maybe you’ll have to stay here.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not hardly.”
“Homesick already? You just got here.” He poured a cup of coffee and placed it
beside her food.
She slid onto the bench. “I have to admit it’s been educational so far. Think of
all I’ve discovered since I arrived. Snakes, chiggers, ticks, storms, catamounts. What
could be more fun?”
He was watching her intently again. “Isn’t there anything you’ll be sorry to leave
behind?”
She glanced up at him. Was he waiting for her to say she would miss him? She
surveyed the room pointedly.
“I’ll miss this cabin. Too bad it isn’t situated in the mountains of California.”
He took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup with an amused
expression. Then he set the cup on the counter and leaned over her, kissing her on
the mouth. His lips were warm and tasted of fresh coffee. He straightened and gave
her braid a flip.
“When you finish breakfast, meet me outside. I need to check the water in my
radiator before we leave.”
She stared at her food. What was it about him that filled her with such a feeling
of contentment and excitement at the same time? Did he feel the same way? She
grabbed her coffee cup and tried to wash down the warmth of his kiss. It was one
thing to enjoy his company, but something other than companionship was hammering
at the doors of her consciousness - something she didn’t want to think about, because
his job would be done in three more weeks. He would be going to Arizona and she to
California. Of course, they wouldn’t be that far apart, and Dad would know how to
contact him. She shook her head and picked up her fork, stabbing it into the eggs.
She was assuming he was actually interested in her personally, not professionally.
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They traveled through miles of wild country where the hills were covered with a
dense undergrowth of brush. Trees of all kinds sprang from the earth in the strangest
positions. The rain had refreshed the vegetation and the trunks of the trees were dark
against the bright green leaves.
With each bend of the highway they found
breathtaking views. Huge bluffs ruptured from the ground and oozed with water. One
minute they seemed to be driving in the middle of nowhere, and then they would come
into a little town. She couldn’t get over the amount of chicken houses. They were
everywhere. Obviously there was plenty of work for anyone interested in working. No
wonder Justin had concocted the story about working on a poultry farm.
He drove with skill and confidence - which was no surprise. The little mustang
responded smoothly under his loving guidance. How long had he owned the car? She
frowned, glancing at him. But he had flown to Arkansas on a plane with her. How did
he get his car to Arkansas?
He met her gaze. “What’s the matter?”
“I was wondering how long you’ve been here.”
He regarded her with a puzzled expression.
“You mean in this town, or in
Arkansas?”
She stretched. “All right, I’ll play your silly games. How long have you been in
this town?”
He frowned. “Since just before you arrived. I drove out here the night before you
did.”
“And your car just happened to be waiting there at the airport.”
He shook his head. “No, it didn’t just happen, I arranged it that way. What’s all
this about, anyway? You’ve been making sounds like you don’t believe anything I say
every since I met you. Do you want to see where I live?”
He swung the car off on a side road and turned around, heading back toward the
cabin. Was he angry? His profile was smooth, but his mouth was grim. She leaned
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forward and tried a sheepish smile on him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad. If you want to keep your business
private, I’ll mind my own.”
He glanced at her and his expression softened.
“I don’t have anything to hide.” He turned into a drive and brought the car to a
halt. “Here’s where I live.” He opened his door and started around the car. “Come in
and see it.”
He guided her up the steps that led to an apartment over a garage. A window air
conditioning unit hummed, and when he opened the door to the apartment, a surge of
cool air invited them in. She turned toward the unit lifting her arms in delight.
“Oh, it feels so good.” She dropped into a chair and leaned her head back,
closing her eyes. “Let’s just sit and talk a while.”
The bed squeaked and she jerked her head up, staring at him. How could she
have missed seeing the bed? It nearly filled the room.
Color touched his cheeks and his brows arched.
“You’ve got the only chair in the apartment.”
“I’m sorry.” She started to rise and he motioned her to remain seated.
“I’ll sit here.” He bounced on the bed. “It’s more comfortable, anyway.”
“It looks inviting.”
Color rushed to her cheeks when his eyes sparkled with
amusement. “I mean . . . my sleeping bag isn’t the most comfortable bed, you know.”
He quirked an inquisitive brow, his eyes still twinkling, and patted the bed.
“Do you want to sleep here tonight?”
That he was joking, she had no doubt. Still, the conversation was getting a little
too familiar.
“Do you mean you’d switch with me?
How thoughtful of you,” she said
innocently. She dodged a pillow missile and retrieved it from the floor.
“Seriously, I don’t know how you stand the heat.”
“It’s a lot easier when you have an air conditioner,” he answered dryly. “Anyway,
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you get used to it - at least to some degree.”
She sighed. “I haven’t yet, but then you’re used to heat a lot worse than this,
aren’t you?”
“It doesn’t get much worse than this.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll say.”
He chuckled. “I meant this is about as hot as it gets in this part of Arkansas. It’ll
cool down soon enough.”
What was the use? Obviously he wanted to continue his farce. The stakes must
be high - or maybe he simply enjoyed the game. She glanced around the tiny room,
thinking of her spacious apartment in L.A. There was no kitchenette here, only a small
bath off the main room.
“How do you fix your meals?”
“I don’t cook. I go out to eat. It’s simpler that way.”
That would get old. “Don’t you miss home cooking?”
“What’s to miss? I’ve been on my own since I got out of high school.”
“You’ve never been married?”
He grinned. “You worked that in well enough. No. I’ve never been married.”
She gasped. “I wasn’t . . . I didn’t work that in.”
Why did her complexion have to reveal her every emotion? She stood and gave
the chair a nudge with her foot.
“Maybe we’d better go.”
He pushed off the bed. “Awe, don’t get in a snit now. I was only teasing you.”
“No you weren’t. You thought I was chasing you again. . . I mean, again you
thought I was chasing you.”
He strode across the room and opened the door, pausing to gaze down at her.
“Are you trying to tell me you never wondered?”
“About what?”
“If I was married?”
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“No. It never crossed my mind.”
The thought was sickening. He could have been married and she had never
considered the possibility.
He was watching her strangely.
“Do married men kiss you all the time?”
She caught her breath. “No!” She glared at him, both hands on her hips. “And
who are you to talk? I didn’t notice you asking me if I was married before you kissed
me?”
A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Didn’t I?” He reached out and
claimed her hand, running a finger around the white band where her engagement ring
had been. “And what’s this? If you’re married . . .”
She snatched her hand back. “I’m not married, and I would never fool around,”
she ground out. So he thought she was a married woman on the make. She blinked
back tears.
He reached for her and she stepped back. His eyes were dark now - almost
brown as he regarded her soberly.
“I know you’re not married. I asked Clara.”
Why did he need to ask Clara? Why not ask Dad - unless he was afraid Dad
would get the wrong idea.
Of course, Clara was handy - and overflowing with
information.
“If you were asking Clara, then why were you pointing a finger at me?”
He took her hands and pulled her close, gazing down at her with an expression
that sent her heart pounding. He stroked her cheek gently and leaned down, softly
kissing her lips.
“I wasn’t pointing a finger at you.” He kissed her again. “I was merely noting the
difference between men and women.”
She pushed away. His kisses were intoxicating, and this was no place to loose
control.
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“And what difference is that?”
He shrugged. “When a man wants to know something, he simply asks. When a
woman wants to know, she looks for some clever way to trick the man into disclosing
the facts.”
He reached for her again and she dodged. The doorknob was like a dangling
rope in a well. She clung to it as an escape from the turbid waters below the surface of
their conversation. How she would love to be taken in his arms again, and kissed as
only he could. Did he have any idea how irresistible he was?
“Fascinating, Freud.
Maybe you could write a book about the differences
between men and women.”
The door was open, the inferno waiting. She stepped out of the cool apartment
and started down the stairs.
He locked the door and followed. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I need to do some laundry.”
“Save that for tomorrow. I know where there’s a nice cool restaurant, and then
we could take in a movie. What do you think?”
A public place. “Sounds great. What time?”
“Six?”
“All right, that’ll give me about two hours to get ready. I’ll need every minute of
it.”
He grinned. “What’s to improve?”
At the cabin, she washed a dress in the sink and hung it on the line to dry, taking
pride in the fact that she was making do with what was available. After the dress dried,
she ironed it with an old block iron she found in the closet. Getting the iron hot was no
great feat, but keeping it the right temperature was. Still, it worked and she felt better.
Five minutes before six.
She stood back and eyed herself critically in the mirror.
Denton hated the yellow sundress with its spaghetti straps, but it was one of her
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favorite dresses. She adorned her earlobes with pearl earrings that matched the tiny
row of buttons down the front of her dress. Turning first one way and then the other in
front of the mirror, she tried to decide what it was about the dress that Denton found so
objectionable. The color? Finally she shrugged. Maybe she lacked taste, but she
knew what she liked.
A knock on the front door was followed by Justin’s voice.
“Megan, are you
ready?”
He was as punctual as Denton. “I’ll be out in a minute. I have to put on my
shoes. I’ll meet you at the car.”
She slipped into a pair of white sandals and grabbed her purse, giving her long
curls a toss to send them cascading down her back instead of tickling her shoulders.
Justin was lounging against his car staring into the forest when she stepped out
on the porch. She suppressed a giggle when she noticed his light yellow golf shirt. At
least he would like the color of her dress. He glanced around as she closed the door,
and moved away from the car with feline grace. He looked slim and sheik in gray
slacks.
His surprise appeared genuine as she approached. There was no denying the
pleasure in his amber eyes as he boldly surveyed her from head to toe. He opened
the car door for her without comment. Any complement would have been redundant,
anyway.
As he strode around the car to the driver’s side with his usual grace, it struck her
that Denton never looked so nice in casual clothes. Denton cultured his grace and
worked at presenting the proper image. To Justin, it all came natural. Several times
that evening, she caught herself comparing him to Denton. Why did Denton keep
entering her mind when she was enjoying the evening so much with Justin? They had
covered more topics tonight than she and Denton had discussed in their entire
relationship.
Time flew by, and all too soon they were in her drive, preparing to part. He
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guided her to the porch with a hand on her elbow. “You need a porch light.”
She laughed. “Oh well, it’ll do for a few weeks. Then someone else can fumble
on the steps.”
His fingers tightened on her arm as he swung her around to face him. One hand
slid down her arm to her hand and the other claimed her waist, drawing her close. He
held her for a moment, as if in a motionless dance. The moonlight outlined his head,
but reading any facial expression was impossible in the dim light.
She waited, her pulse quickening.
Finally he lowered his head and his lips
brushed her neck in a soft caress. With a sigh she tipped her head back and allowed
his lips to burn a trail down her throat all the way to the beginning swell of her breasts.
As he worked his way back up her neck, her heart pounded wildly - and then his lips
were on hers, warm and questioning. Her arms slid around his neck of their own
volition and she eagerly returned his kiss.
When excitement threatened to rob her of reason, she slid her hands to his chest
and gently pushed him away. The warmth of his muscular chest under the soft knit of
his shirt, and the strength in the arms that gently coaxed her close again, tempted her
to acquiesce. She was tempted to invite him in, and immediately knew that would be a
dangerous move. She took a deep breath to clear her head, and pushed him away
again.
His fingers slid down her arms in a tingling caress as he relinquished the
embrace. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and husky.
“I love you.”
She stiffened.
Had she heard him right? Love? Wasn’t there supposed to be
something between “nice to meet you” and “I love you” - like six months of courtship?
People didn’t fall in love that fast. Was he gold digging, or was it simply a ruse to
spend the night? In spite of an agonizing pulse, she responded flippantly.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
She couldn’t see his expression, but she felt the tension mount between them.
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When he answered, his tone was terse.
“Outside of my sister and mother, you’re the only woman who has ever heard me
say those words.”
Then it was the money. She moved away from him, searching in her purse for
the door key. She was afraid to speak. Afraid he would hear the disappointment in her
voice. She fumbled with the key and finally unlocked the door. Tears were spilling
from her eyes as she pushed the door open and turned on the light. She kept her face
averted when she felt his strong warm fingers grip her arm.
“Megan, I didn’t mean to . . . “ He cursed. “I never know what to say to you.
Just when I think the light is green, you hit the breaks and sling out a caution sign.
What do you want me to do?”
With each word his voice rose and his fingers bit more deeply into her arm. Like
Denton, he wasn’t going to give up without a fight. Would there ever be a man who
would love her for what she was, not who she was?
She winced. “You’re hurting my arm.” To her horror the statement ended in a
sob.
Instantly he released her arm and his voice was laden with concern.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was hurting you.”
He thought physical pain was the source of her tears. Good. He was rubbing
the back of his neck, watching her with concern. Was it possible that he actually cared
for her? She cleared her throat.
“It’s late and I’m tired. Thank you for a nice evening. It’s been a long time since I
had that much fun.”
“Then you’d consider going out with me again?”
She wiped an escaped tear from her cheek. “Of course.” Did her voice sound
empty to him? If he noticed, he gave no indication. If he found her so frustrating, why
did he want to go out with her again? What did he want her to do, jump into bed with
him? No way. If that was all he wanted, he was rattling the wrong cage.
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After an awkward good-by, she watched the tail lights of his car disappear down
the drive. She let out a long breath and turned toward the bedroom, pausing in the
doorway as a thought occurred to her. He was working for Dad, but that didn’t mean
he couldn’t be enjoying his work. Hadn’t the air been electrified when their eyes met
on the plane? But Love? Probably something said in the heat of the moment. And it
had been a sizzling moment.
She blushed.
Every fiber of her being had been
aroused. If his reactions were any indication, the same was true for him. What was it
that made her so certain he wasn’t genuinely interested in her? Only Denton’s words.
The jerk. With one statement he had managed to stamp his brand on her, knowing
she would question any man who gave her a second glance from that point on. It was
all part of his plan. No wonder he was sure she would be back. Well, it wasn’t going to
work. Justin was going to have his chance. She was going to have her chance. No
more suspicions.
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Chapter Eight
Each evening Justin dropped by on his way home, and each day she was more
convinced that his interest in her was genuine. When he was away she missed him,
and when he was with her, nothing ever seemed so right. Only one barrier remained
between them. She was waiting for him to confess his reason for being in Arkansas.
Perhaps Dad had sworn him to silence. Unless she missed her guess, wild horses
couldn’t drag it out of him until he was released from that vow. But why would Dad
want him to hide his identity, now that she knew? Maybe he hadn’t talked to Dad since
she had.
When Justin announced that he would be out of the state for a few days on
business, she wondered if he was actually going back to talk to her father. Had he
revealed his feelings for her - or was he planning to?
Whatever the reason for his absence, the days were lonely and meaningless
without him. With a start, she realized she had abandoned her purpose for coming to
Arkansas. She had fallen into the pattern of allowing someone else to plan her time
again. If she was ever going to learn to be totally self sufficient, she was going to have
to take control of her life. She glanced at the book in front of her, an idea forming in
her mind. She had been a virtual prisoner in the cabin since she had seen the snake
on the porch. It was time to take control. Everyone was afraid of something. Fear
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didn’t make a person a coward. How a person dealt with that fear was the measure of
their strength - and she was coming up short on the yardstick. Until she met that fear
head on, she could never feel good about herself.
Out there in the woods lay a
multitude of plants she wanted to see, and no slithering reptile was going to stand in
her way.
She slammed the book shut and carried it to the shed, where she searched for
something to mark a trail. As she sorted through the items, she noticed two spools of
twine. With a smile, she snatched them up and grabbed the broken end of a broom
handle.
Wheels crunched on gravel as a car stopped in her drive.
Her heart skipped a
beat. Was Justin back already? A glance from the door of the shed revealed that the
visitor was Clara. Megan dropped the twine on a shelf beside the door and stepped
outside to welcome Clara.
Clara smiled warmly as she stiffly emerged from her car. “Hi. I thought I’d drop
by and see how you were doing. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Megan pushed a stray curl away from her forehead and smiled.
“I’m getting to be a regular hermit. Justin says I should get out more, but I came
here to take a break from the miseries of social life.”
Clara nodded and they walked toward the house, deep in conversation. She
offered Clara some iced tea and they talked for almost an hour before Clara surprised
her with a calculating question and matching expression.
“You and Justin are seeing a lot of each other, aren’t you? Are you getting
serious?”
Megan shrugged.
“We enjoy each other’s company and we have a lot in
common. I don’t know what you call serious.”
Clara tipped her head to the side and smiled wisely.
“Oh, come on now.
You’ve talked endlessly about him and said absolutely
nothing about your Fiancé.”
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Megan gaped at her. “I don’t have a Fiancé.” She blushed. “Well, not any more,
anyway. How did you know about him?”
He’s called the store three times in the last week. When I ask him if I can take
you a message, he says no, to just wait until you come into town and have you call
him.”
So he hadn’t accepted her rejection. Her stomach was knotting up in a ball.
Next week was her last in the cabin and she dreaded going back to face him again.
Why couldn’t he accept no for an answer?
Well, let him keep calling. She wasn’t
going to call him. He could wait another week to talk to her. She wasn’t going to let
him muscle in on her time.
“Is something wrong?” Clara was watching her strangely.
Megan shook her head. “No, I was just wondering why he was calling.” She
patted Clara on the shoulder. “I’m sorry he keeps calling you. I’ll come into town
tomorrow and call him.” It wasn’t Clara’s problem and she could hardly leave it to her
to handle.
Clara arched her brows.
“If he’s bothering you, I can give him his walking
papers. It won’t bother me a bit. He sounded kind of like a snob to me.”
Megan laughed. “I suppose he is . . . kind of. Anyway, I’ll talk to him. I don’t
think it would do any good for you to say anything anyway.”
“Persistent, huh?”
“Annoyingly so.”
Clara stood and picked up her purse. “Well, what ever you want. I’m going to
have to get back to town. I’ve got to get a roast in the oven - company coming tonight.”
After Megan saw her off, she returned to the shed and retrieved the twine.
Denton had been calling.
So
If he knew where to call, it wouldn’t be long until he
materialized on her doorstep. Maybe it was time to go home. If Denton found out
about Justin, there would be a scene, of that she was certain. The only way Denton
was going to accept the termination of their engagement was if she publicly announced
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it, and that was what she would have to do as soon as she returned. Strange, but the
idea no longer gave her chills. Why had it taken her months to tell him?
Carefully, she wound the twine around the broken broom handle, tying the two
ends when she started on the second spool. The best thing to do was go into town
tonight and call him - and this time leave no question in his mind.
Picking up the machete and book, she left the shed and started for the woods.
At the path entrance, she tied one end of the twine around a tree and started down the
trail, allowing the twine to unwind from the handle as she did so. Marking the trees
with the machete would work, but it would permanently damage the trees. This was
much better.
The book provided excellent examples of the plants and she found a large
assortment of edible foods. The roll of twine was getting small, and it was a nuisance
to hold the spool while trying to turn pages, so she unrolled the rest of the twine and
tied the end around her waist. Draping the remainder across her arm, she continued.
The sun was directly overhead when the twine was stretched as far as she could
go. She was in a small clearing divided by a fallen dead tree. So far she hadn’t seen
one snake. It was tempting to untie the twine from her waist and wander a little further,
but the forest was too confusing. Even now she wouldn’t be sure which way to go
back to the cabin if the twine didn’t indicate the direction.
She licked her lips. A glass of water would taste good right now. Her stomach
growled a reminder that she hadn’t eaten breakfast. Stop thinking about it.
She focused her attention on the flora. A tiny yellow flower peeped from under
the log and she leaned down to examine it. Hadn’t she seen that one in the book?
She searched through the pages, pausing to examine the flower. So intent was she on
finding the flower, that the crackling of the brush didn’t immediately register a warning.
Poised in the middle of turning a page, she froze. Was something stalking her? She
squinted at the brush, but nothing was visible. The steady tread of some large animal
continued in her direction - a mountain lion?
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She stood and the forgotten book dropped to the ground with an audible crunch.
Grasping the handle of the machete, she half fell, half leaped behind the log. What to
do now? She was literally at the end of her rope, so flight into the woods was unwise.
The odds of finding this spot again had to be slim to nothing. The muscles in her legs
complained as she squatted behind the log, peering over the rotting bark. The machete
felt heavy in her sweating palm. Would she be able to use it?
A tall figure emerged from the brush and she gasped with relief.
“Justin! Thank God. I thought you were some kind of wild animal.”
He smiled wryly. “That’s been debated a time or two.” He tugged on the twine.
“Clever. It serves a dual purpose. It’ll guide you out of the forest - if you’re conscious and a rescue team to your body if you’re not.” His dark gaze met hers sternly. “What
would you have done if it had been a bear?”
“A bear?
Are there bears out here?” She glanced nervously around the brush
and back at him. “Are you trying to scare me?”
“There are bears out here. Didn’t you read that book on Arkansas wildlife?” The
scowl made the color of his eyes look almost brown.
“Yes, but I thought that was south of here - in the more remote regions.”
A spark of humor glimmered in his eyes. “More remote? Just how much more
remote do you think it gets?”
She brought the machete down with a dull thud, anchoring the blade in the log.
“How would I know? This is the only part of Arkansas I’ve ever seen. I’ve heard about
children walking to school barefoot, but this area isn’t much different than parts of
California.
He rolled his eyes and grimaced. “Don’t believe everything you hear - especially
from outsiders.”
Why was he getting so miffed, and whom did he consider outsiders? It sounded
like he was getting a little lost in his part. She leaned over the log and retrieved the
book.
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“You should be proud of me. I’ve identified twenty-five plants on this trek. Do
you know how many edible plants grow naturally in our own front yards? It’s ironic.
We plow them under so we can plant a garden and then spend half our time pulling
them out of it so we can grow something to eat.”
“I think I followed that.” He sauntered over to her and rested one foot on the log.
“Sure, you can eat those weeds, but what do they taste like? And how far would you
have to travel to get enough for one meal?”
Why did he always have to make so much sense? She sighed. “That’s probably
true, but it is fun, and you find the most interesting flowers here in the woods.”
He reached out and tilted her chin so that she faced him.
His eyes were
twinkling again.
“Yes, you certainly do.”
He tugged at the twine around her waist.
“I’ve found one on the end of a strange vine.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “A blooming idiot?”
Too late, she dodged his grasp. He pulled her close, whispering softly in her ear.
“A regular passion flower.”
His lips silenced her protest and she involuntarily responded. After a moment he
held her away from him and gazed down into her face, his eyes warm and still holding
a touch of humor.
“See?”
It would have been folly to explain to him that he was the first man to affect her
so dynamically, but she didn’t want to leave him with the impression that she was a
nymph either. She twisted free of his grip and moved away.
“Don’t mistake gratitude for passion. I’m simply grateful that you weren’t a bear.”
He chuckled. “Any little scraps I can get.”
In one smooth movement he jerked the machete from the log and chopped the
twine in two.
“Now that we’ve severed that umbilical cord, why don’t I show you
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around the woods a little?”
She hesitated. “What if we get lost?”
His smile was tolerant. “I won’t get lost.”
She still hesitated, glancing nervously at the machete. “I don’t want to scar the
trees.”
He grinned, hefting the machete. “It’s for protection from all the wild animals. I
don’t need to blaze a trail to find my way back.”
“Well, all right. If you’re sure, Daniel, but I don’t know how you can find your way
back in this confused mess of vegetation.”
He laughed. “You’re such a city girl.”
He moved off on a faint trail and she followed. So he thought she was a city
slicker, did he? Well, wasn’t she? Sure, his experience was the result of years in the
Arizona mountains, but let him try to find his way around Los Angeles.
His long legs set an impossible pace, and before long she was stumbling.
Obviously he was trying to prove a point. She didn’t belong in the wilderness. Why did
men always have to be so tutelarius?
Catching the toe of her hiking boots under a
vine, she tripped and fell. Heat and exhaustion might have explained the instant fury
that welled up in her throat and filled her voice with rancor.
“For crying out loud, Justin. I wanted to explore the woods, not set a world
record for travel.”
He was instantly at her side, examining the painful cut on her leg.
“You need to wash that off.” He took her hands and helped her to her feet and
then swooped her into his arms. “There’s a spring in that clearing ahead.”
She squirmed, her face growing warm. Perspiration ran down the back of her
neck.
“Put me down. I can walk by myself, you know. It’s just a stupid little cut. I’m not
an invalid.”
It was bad enough that she probably smelled, but the warmth from his body
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combined with the excitement of his proximity left her feeling a little nauseous.
He lowered her feet to the ground and she limped toward the sound of water.
Not even a slight breeze stirred the hot air, but the trees seemed to be swaying. She
staggered and wiped an arm across her hot dry forehead. Heat stroke? How stupid
not to bring water along on a hike. Heat waves distorted the side of a small bluff and
water surged from its shiny black ledges and plunged into small pool choked by
watercress.
Justin leaned across the pool and cupped a hand under the stream of water. Her
mouth felt dryer each time he drank from his hand. The water smelled so delicious sounded so soothing. A slight breeze tossed a spray of water in the air, cooling it
immediately. It was miserably hot again. Was it safe to drink directly from the spring?
She frowned.
“How do you know it’s not polluted?”
He flipped some water at her. “How do you know your well water isn’t polluted?”
She dodged the spray of water. “Well?”
He grinned.
“Just because it comes out of a spigot doesn’t mean it’s been
treated. Did you think you had city water clear out here?”
She blushed “I guess I never thought about it. I didn’t have to haul it up with a
bucket, though.”
He laughed and drank another handful of water. She licked her lips. “Is it good?”
He stepped back, making room for her. “Try it.”
She leaned forward and he held her waist as she washed her hands and formed
them into a cup. The water was cold and had a metallic taste she liked. She splashed
some of it on her face and its coolness took her breath.
Justin tugged her back into his arms.
“I didn’t say to take a bath in it.”
Overwhelmed with fatigue, she relaxed with her back against the solid support of
his body. Her head throbbed with the heat and she leaned it back on his shoulder.
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Was she going to faint? His arms circled her waist and he pulled her close, leaning his
head forward to kiss her neck. His warm breath on her neck and the added heat of his
body made her feel nauseous again. She jerked away from him, reaching for more
water. She should have told him she needed to go back to the house when he offered
to show her around.
“What an idiot,” she whispered under her breath.
She wanted to trek the woods so badly that she had put them both in jeopardy.
What if she passed out now and he had to go for help?
Stop thinking about it. She
splashed some more of the cool water on her face and neck. Gradually the nausea
abated and the pounding in her head stopped. She glanced up to find Justin watching
her intently. Why was he looking at her like that? He probably thought she was the
biggest baby he’d ever seen. She summoned up a brave smile.
“The water feels so good. I could take a bath in it.”
He nodded, apparently encouraged by her smile.
“You’d find out it was a little cold for a bath.”
They both fell silent, absorbed in the beauty of the country around them. It was
so peaceful out here - like another world.
The problems of city life faded to
nonexistence. Muldrow was right. It was a perfect retreat. Even a weekend out here
would be refreshing. She gazed off into the distance, lost in thought. What if she
purchased the land? It would deplete her savings, but she could rent it out to retrieve
some of the cost. Maybe later she could build a couple more cabins, far from each
other, and rent them out too. Cut a few trails, clear around the pool of water - maybe
enlarge it and get some ducks.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Her attention was abruptly brought back to Justin. She smiled.
“I was doing a little dream improvement.”
“Oh? Share it with me.”
She ducked her head and blushed. “It’s probably silly, but I was thinking that this
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land would be a good investment for a resort retreat. I see trails leading to this pool
and the brush trimmed back - maybe a couple more small cabins. There are a lot of
people in California who would pay dearly for a weekend or two away from the rat
race.”
He glanced around. “It has possibilities - providing a person could buy it.”
She lifted the hair off the back of her neck and stretched. Did he know how
meager her savings were? Would Dad have shared that information with him after
keeping it silent for so many years? He might think she would be safer that way. She
shrugged.
“It would take time, but I think I could swing it.”
He glanced at her sharply and then shook his head. “If anyone could do it, you’d
be the one.”
So he didn’t know. He was like all the others. He thought she was loaded. Did it
make any difference, though? His tone indicated that it merely was a statement of fact.
In the time that she had known him, he had given no indication that he was impressed
by money or people with important positions. Their dates had been modest, but was
that by preference, or because he had limited funding? What was his profession? She
would like to ask, but she didn’t want to force him to lie.
She straightened,
remembering he had possibly been to see her father.
“I’m sorry. I’m so wrapped up in my ideas that I didn’t even ask. How was your
trip?”
“Well enough, I suppose.”
He didn’t offer any more and she didn’t press. He
would tell her when he was ready.
She drank some more of the water. “Do you suppose there are any pesticides in
this water. I mean it’s so far from our so-called civilized world.”
“So-called?” He was watching her in that strange way again.
“Yes, I wonder about our idea of civilized sometimes.
Only mankind would
consider the ability to destroy the earth, a sign of intelligence - and call it civilization.”
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He laughed. “I never thought of it quite that way, but you have a point.” He
guided her back toward the forest. “What do you think we should do, burn all our
clothes and run naked through the woods, living like monkeys?”
She grinned. “Well, that would be a little drastic, but it wouldn’t hurt us to use
some alternate methods to pest control.”
“Such as?”
She tucked a strand of hair back into her topknot and followed him into the forest.
“Such as friendly insects. When we use pesticides, we kill them as well as the
harmful insects - and even the bees.”
His pace was slower now and she had no trouble keeping in step. “Take our
roses, for instance.
When they get infested with aphids, do we think about their
enemy, the praying mantis?
No, we immediately go out and buy the strongest
insecticide we can get.”
He paused, turning to survey her with a faintly amused expression.
“All right, suppose we bought a jar of live Praying Mantises at our neighborhood
pest control store. How many aphids can he eat in a day? And,” he went on, holding
up a hand when she started to protest. “After he eats all the aphids, what are we going
to do, starve him, or buy more aphids?” His eyes were twinkling, but only the ghost of
a smile played around his mouth.
She shrugged nonchalantly, snapping a dry vine off and examining it as though
unaware of the mockery of his question.
“So give him to someone else who’s having aphid problems.”
He winked. “A Mantis leasing program? How long does a Praying Mantis live,
anyway?”
She tossed the vine at him, along with a wry grin. “Who knows?” She made a
face. “Why do our conversations always degenerate like this?”
He caught the vine deftly and grinned.
“Just because you don’t know the answer doesn’t mean the conversation has
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degenerated.”
He turned back to the trail and she followed while he continued teasing her.
“I’ll bet there’s a National Geographic special on this very subject.”
She laughed. “No doubt.”
No, the conversation hadn’t degenerated, though Denton certainly would have
insisted so. The ridiculous subject was both mind stimulating and enjoyable.
Sometimes it took a ridiculous simile to make a point.
As they reached the clearing, Justin stooped and retrieved the twine, winding it
into a ball as they continued back toward the house.
When they reached the
beginning, he sawed the twine in two, freeing the tree. He handed the ball of twine to
her.
“Here. From now on, when you get the urge to explore the forest, call me.
Okay?”
“Okay.”
He wasn’t trying to restrict her activities.
It was obvious he was
concerned she would be lost in the wilderness. How nice it was to feel protected by
someone so considerate. Life would never be the same without him. Only one more
week. Better make the best of it.
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Chapter Nine
Megan rinsed a pan and placed it on a towel beside the sink. With meticulous
care, Justin dried it and stored it in the cabinet. She glanced up at him and smiled.
“I wonder if you’re the first man to do dishes in this cabin.”
He smiled wryly. “What would make you think that?”
She shrugged, wiping off the counter with the dishrag. “Well, the traditional roles
of men and women have changed in the last generation.
Just think. Women did the
cooking and cleaning and men worked out of the home.”
He studied a spot on the plate and wiped at it with the towel. “Uh-huh, and there
weren’t so many juvenile delinquents then either.”
“So you hold the women responsible?”
He glanced up sharply and then grinned. “Of course not. I hold men to blame. If
they hadn’t gone off playing those silly war games, Rosie the riveter would have stayed
at home barefoot and pregnant the way women belong.”
“What?”
She pounded him on the arm.
“That’s disgusting!
And you don’t
believe a word of it, either.”
He laughed and dropped the towel across her shoulder.
“No. It wasn’t a silly war.”
She squeezed the moisture from the dishrag and hung it on the faucet and then
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dried her hands on the towel.
“Sour grapes. You’re ashamed because now it’s the women who whip the men
in line.”
She tipped her head to the side and winked at him.
He snorted. “No wisp of a woman is going to whip me into line.”
Was he actually little miffed? She laughed, gripping both ends of the towel and
twirling it until it resembled a rope. Taking a few running steps toward the living room,
she turned and flipped it at him. The tip of the towel snapped sharply only inches from
his shoulder and she gasped at her accuracy.
“No?”
He moved swiftly, ducking down and grabbing her ankle. Before she had time to
respond he dumped her on the floor and dived to pin her down.
“You think that’s funny, do you?” He panted, grinning as he clamped a hand over
each of her wrists. “Now, who’s in command?”
As hard as she was laughing, squirming away would have been impossible, even
if she had possessed the strength - and it was obvious she didn’t. Between convulsive
giggles, she panted out a weak defense.
“Brute force. That’s all you men know.”
He shook his head, his dark eyes mocking hers.
“Oh, no. There are other methods of persuasion.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.” He leaned over and kissed her lips ardently.
She returned his kiss passionately and when he released her wrists, she
squirmed away, breaking into a peal of laughter.
“Two can play that game.”
He pounced on her again, pinning her to the floor.
“You offer me no choice. I’ll have to use brute force, then.”
“Hey! What’s going on here?” The sharp masculine voice cut their game short.
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Justin was on his feet immediately, placing himself between her and the intruder.
She scrambled to her feet, gaping at the tall figure in the doorway.
“Denton! What are you doing here?”
“Your father has been worried because you haven’t called in a week. When I
couldn’t contact you by calling the number you gave him, he suggested I come out and
check on you.” He eyed Justin distastefully. “It looks like it’s a good thing I arrived
when I did.”
Justin scowled at him. “We were only scuffling.”
He turned a perplexed gaze on Megan.
“Do you know him?”
Denton snorted. “I should hope so. I’m her fiancé.”
“Ex - fiancé,” she corrected emphatically.
Denton lifted one side of his upper lip. “Now I know why you came sneaking out
here. How long have you had this hick on the string?”
His cool gaze shifted to Justin, measuring the taller man disdainfully.
“You might as well know. You’ll never get a dime out of her. Her father would
never agree to a marriage with someone like you, and she isn’t going to get the money
until she’s married.”
An icy amber gaze fell on her, chilling her heart to stillness. Denton could be a
royal snob at times, but this time he had outdone himself. Did Denton know Justin?
Had Justin been after the money all along? And when had Denton learned about the
stipulations on the money? The information was coming in too fast - and erratic. Her
heart resumed beating with a painful surge when Justin’s attention returned to Denton.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Denton’s laugh was harsh. “Oh, come on now. Are you trying to convince me
you don’t know who she is?” His expression changed to incredulity when he saw the
confusion on Justin’s face. “You really didn’t know, did you?”
Justin divided his attention between them, obviously waiting for an explanation.
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“She said her name was Megan O’Hara. Is that supposed to mean something to
me, or is it a pseudonym?”
Denton shook his head. “You’ve never heard of the great Colin O’Hara - O’Hara
Enterprises?” He pointed at her. “She’s his daughter.”
Justin stared at him, realization slowly bringing a flush to his face. He turned on
Megan with a pained expression.
“Is that true?”
She took a step back. If Dad hadn’t sent him, then who was he? She swallowed
a lump in her throat.
“You didn’t know? I thought . . .” Her voice trailed off under his angry gaze.
“You thought I should be honored?” He moved toward the door. “I’ll let you two
work this out. It’s none of my business.”
Denton crammed his hands into his pockets and his jaw muscles worked as he
glared at her.
“I should have known that all you wanted was a cheap fling. And I thought you
had more class than that.”
Before the sting of his words had time to penetrate, Justin paused, throwing a
quick jab to Denton’s mouth. Denton’s head jerked back and hit the wall with a sharp
crack. He wiped the blood from his mouth and watched in dazed silence as Justin
marched out the door.
Megan snapped her sagging jaw shut and ran to get a wet rag. How could
Denton say those things about her? And what made him think Dad wouldn’t approve
of Justin? What did he know about Justin? One thing was sure, now Justin was
convinced she was stringing him along. Why wouldn’t he be? Not once had she
declared any affection for him. Thanks to her unconcealed admiration of his physique,
he had to be aware of her physical attraction to him, though. How could he know she
didn’t fulfill the reputation of a Hollywood playgirl?
She tossed the wet rag at Denton and stood looking on as he wiped the blood
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from his face. He was still a little dazed. No one had ever dared hit him before.
Violence was no answer to a problem, but he had been inviting this for the last year.
Where his career was concerned, recently he had been his own worst enemy.
Denton glowered at her. “Who was that guy?”
“I don’t know. Until you came along, I thought he was someone Dad sent to keep
an eye on me.”
His expression went swiftly from surprise to concern.
“Colin? He gave everybody strict orders to leave you alone. He said you needed
some space to grow, but when he didn’t hear from you for a week he started getting
worried.”
She frowned.
“But when I talked to Dad . . .” There had been no actual
admission that Dad had sent a bodyguard, only her interpretation of the conversation.
“If Dad didn’t send him, then who is he - and why was he on the plane coming
from California with me? Surely it couldn’t be coincidence that he turned up here the
day I arrived.”
Denton dabbed at his mouth with the cloth and stared sourly at the blood. “How
would I know. What’s his name?”
“Justin Keaton.”
His head snapped up and he winced, rubbing his neck. “Keaton?” He dabbed at
his mouth thoughtfully. “Well, that answers a few questions.” His regard became
suspicious. “What’s your angle in this?”
She caught her breath sharply. “My Angle? What’s that supposed to mean?
Who is he?”
“Among other things, he’s the owner of this property. I saw his name on the
papers Muldrow showed me when he was telling me how to get here. Keaton bought
this land from his sister shortly before you left.” He dabbed at his mouth again, his
expression still suspicious. “I can see how that might slip by you, but how could you
miss hearing about him on the news?”
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She stared at him numbly. “Justin owns this cabin? But why didn’t he . . . What
do you mean? Why was he on the news?”
He dropped the rag from his mouth and rolled his eyes, sighing with
exasperation. “Girl, how can you get yourself into these messes? Don’t you ask any
questions about the people you hang out with? Aren’t you the least bit interested, or
are you . . .”
“Why was he on the news?” Her sharp tone brought his tirade up short.
“He’s applying for a patent on a new piece of equipment that will make the way
they’ve been operating chicken houses obsolete. I guess you didn’t know he’s an
Industrial Engineer on the rise, either? They said he was unavailable for comment, so
I suppose he’s a private person.”
“I don’t have a radio or a TV, and I have no trouble believing he is a private type
of person. He never offered any information, but then, I didn’t ask either. I thought the
story about his job at the poultry farm was only a cover - some trumped up story to
establish credence. No wonder he was upset when I belittled the culture here.” Her
voice was soft as she mused to herself. “I was the outsider he was talking about.” She
covered her face with her hands.
“Oh my gosh! He must be feeling about three inches high. And what must he
think of me?”
Grabbing her purse, she darted for the door. “I’ve got to talk to him.”
Denton stared after her. “Why?”
But she was out the door, ignoring his hounding questions as he followed her.
She maneuvered the car around Denton’s vehicle and sped down the drive. At the
road she turned toward Justin’s apartment, dust flying behind her car.
When she arrived, the mustang was parked so close to the apartment that she
had to walk around it to climb the stairs. The evening was strangely silent and as she
paused with her hand at the door, she listened in vain for sounds within. Surely he had
heard the gravel fly when her car had stopped. Her knock stimulated a little noise
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inside and he opened the door. He scowled at her.
“Haven’t you slummed it enough yet?”
“I wasn’t sl . . .”
“Yeah?” he growled. “What would you call it?”
Was he going to stop sniping long enough to let her explain?
“I’d call it a vacation. Look . . .”
He snorted. “Sure, and I was nothing but a temporary diversion - a local hick to
provide you with entertainment. You actually had me convinced that you enjoyed my
company. No wonder you thought I was an idiot.”
Blood rushed painfully up her neck. Well, hadn’t she called him a stupid idiot the
day he took her swimming? But today at the spring, she had been referring to herself.
“I didn’t think . . .”
“I know,” he cut in tersely. “You didn’t think I heard you today. I wanted to
believe you were interested in me. The way you kissed me . . .” He sucked in his
breath, his dark gaze probing hers. “All that talk about purity - and I swallowed it hook,
line and sinker. Little did I know that I simply wasn’t sophisticated enough for you.”
The sound of her hand hitting his face echoed in the still air. How could he think
she was so shallow - so cheap?
He touched his fingers to the red hand print on his face. The amber eyes flashed
with little flecks of red.
“I guess I had that coming.” He stepped back and grabbed the door. “You’ve
vindicated your honor. Now get out.”
With that, he slammed the door in her face.
A retaliating slap would have been less painful.
She stared at the door, a
confused jumble of emotions burning her eyes. How did things get so out of hand?
Wasn’t this the man who never seemed to get perturbed about anything - who had
confessed to loving her? Only an hour ago their relationship had been so solid.
He wasn’t going to give her the chance to explain. Consumed by agonizing
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defeat, she whirled and started down the stairs, narrowly missing Denton.
“Being ditched isn’t much fun, is it?” His snide remark was like salt in her
wounds.
She didn’t even break stride. “Shut up, Denton” Her answer was punctuated with
a sob as she plunged past him, taking the stairs two at a time. At the bottom she
staggered to retain her balance. What would Denton know about how she felt? He
knew nothing of romance.
Reaching her car, she drove home in a blur of tears. The only thing left to do
was pack and take a plane home. Denton must be laughing himself silly.
At the cabin, she was packing a suitcase in the middle of the living room floor
when she heard tires crunch on gravel outside. Her heart missed a beat. Justin? But
the clipped steps on the porch denied it. She would never see Justin again.
Denton stopped at the door and knocked. She tossed a shirt in her suitcase
without looking at him.
“If you came to tell me what a fool I am, don’t bother.”
He opened the screen and walked in. “I came to apologize. I didn’t realize you
were serious about him.”
Denton apologize? She resumed packing and answered dryly.
“Yeah, neither did he.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
She glanced up sharply and let her gaze rest on his split lip.
“It doesn’t look like you’re all that adept at talking to him either.
He shrugged and touched his lip. “I was way out of line. He was protecting you.”
He stared absently at his hand, as if he was mulling that idea over.
She tossed a shirt in the suitcase and gave him a disgusted look.
“You were being a jerk – as usual. I don’t know what’s got into you. You used to
be so considerate. In the last year you’ve changed considerably, but in the last few
months you’ve been unbearable.”
She shook her head. “I’m tired of being put down
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by you.”
He glanced up, slowly focusing on her face and words. Finally he spoke, his
voice calm.
“We’ve been doing that to each other, you know.”
She stared at him. “I haven’t been putting you down.”
“Not in words, but how do you think it made me feel when you defied me in front
of everyone?”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He wiped his mouth again. “This young
man – he loves you.”
She eyed him doubtfully and then turned back to her packing.
“He doesn’t have room for love. He’s too full of southern pride.”
“You’ve got a little too much pride, yourself.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll go explain to him about us.” He reached for the screen door.
“No. Leave him alone.
It isn’t any of your business. I got into this on my own
and I’ll handle it myself.”
He let his gaze fall significantly on the suitcase.
“How? By running - again? You can’t keep running all your life. Sometime
you’re going to have to learn to stand up for what you want instead of letting your
father take care of everything for you. I thought maybe you’d started to do that when
you dropped me and came out here.”
That was strange language coming from Denton.
She crammed the last shirt
into the suitcase and held it down while she snapped it shut.
“I’m not running away. I’m accepting the inevitable. I don’t belong out here.
Maybe it’s best this way. Anyway, since when did you get to be such a mother hen?
Not more than an hour ago you were helping him sling mud at me?”
His face turned scarlet. “Well, what did you expect? I walked up to the door with
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the idea of rescuing you and found you two . . . well, you can imagine what I thought.”
“You thought the worst - like you always do.”
He frowned. “Is that the way you see me? Is that why you came out here - to
get away from me?”
“Among other things.”
He glanced around the room. “Geez, Megan. It’s humiliating to think you’d come
to this empty furnace just to get away from me.”
She followed his gaze, taking in the bare glossy walls and impressive fireplace
with one forlorn glance.
“I have to admit it wasn’t what I expected to find, but it isn’t so bad. I’ll bet it’s
beautiful in the spring, and I can imagine Christmas here with a big tree over there and
a roaring fire in the fireplace . . .”
Her voice trailed off. How could she expect Denton to understand her dream of
purchasing the place? But that dream had been smashed to oblivion. Justin owned
the land, and he would never sell it to her now. Wait. What was it he said? If anyone
could do it, she could. Was he referring to her ambitious nature, as she had thought at
the time, or did he mean she was the only one he would sell it to? She sighed. But not
now. He hated her now.
She stood and lifted the suitcase. Almost everything else could be left in the
house for the next tenant. Would Justin rent it out, or would he simply move in?
Denton reached for the suitcase.
“Well, if you’ve made up your mind, let me carry that out for you.” He cocked his
head to the side and arched a brow. “Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to him?”
She shook her head. “I’ll stop by on my way out and try to talk to him. Maybe
he’s had time to cool down.”
The mustang was gone when she stopped at his apartment. Digging a note pad
out of her purse, she labored over a note. Would he read it . . . or toss it in the trash?
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She tacked the note to the door and shut the screen. Maybe he would throw it away,
but if he had second thoughts, at least he had her telephone number now.
From the airport window, she watched a cloud bank build in the northwest. With
any luck, she would be out of Arkansas before another storm struck - a storm without
Justin to solace her. She dabbed at her swollen eyes again and Denton shook his
head.
“You shouldn’t have left until you talked this over with him. Does he know you
love him?”
She swallowed to remove the lump in her throat and looked away. “You can’t fall
in love with someone in a few weeks.”
“You can fall in love with someone in a couple of hours. It just takes some
hardheaded people a while to see it. They’ve got their minds set on something else. I
should know.”
She turned her head sharply to study his face. He wasn’t talking about her.
“Clarissa?”
His brows shot up. “How did you know?”
In spite of the situation she smiled. “Probably the same way you knew about
Justin and me.”
It was different with them, though. Clarissa and Denton were a perfect match.
Justin’s world was completely different than hers.
Denton’s calm voice cut through her thoughts.
“Don’t make the same mistake I did.
Keep your career and your love life
separate. I thought I could force them together, but I was wrong. All I accomplished
was becoming a number one ass. I treated you like a possession and nearly lost the
one person who could make my life complete.
I resented our relationship, but I
continued to nurture it.” He shook his head again. “If you love him, tell him so. Give up
your job if that’s what it takes. There are other jobs. There’s only one Justin. Anyway,
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it isn’t like you have to work.”
Were those words actually coming from Denton’s mouth? She shook her head.
“I don’t have to work, but haven’t you ever considered the idea that I want to
work?”
“Is it more important than the man you love?”
“Of course not, but my job isn’t what’s standing between us now. Quitting my job
wouldn’t change anything.”
“He’ll get used to your money.” His voice held a hint of sarcasm.
“I don’t think it’s the money, either. He’s convinced that I think I’m too good for
him. He as much as told me he thinks I’m a high priced . . .”
A sob constricted her throat, cutting off the words she couldn’t bring herself to
say anyway.
“If he thinks that, why do you suppose he hit me when he thought I was going to
say it? Come on, think about it. He was talking out of wounded pride. If you’d just tell
him how you really feel, . . .”
“He wouldn’t believe me.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “If he cares,
he’ll call after he reads the note.”
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Chapter Ten
Justin didn’t call. Three weeks without as much as a post card. Was it merely
pride that held his silence, or had he discovered that life without her wasn’t so bad after
all? On the flip side of the coin, she was finding life unbearable without him.
Since she returned, she had a lot of time to think about things. She had been
treating Denton badly. How could she have done that and not realized it? Maybe
because she was so self-focused. That internal focus had ultimately cost her the
ultimate relationship. If she hadn’t been so certain that her father had sent him, things
might have been different. If she had known that the pregnant girl who moved to
California was his sister, she would have felt different about developing a relationship.
It wasn’t as though he hid anything from her. She had been so certain that he was
making up stories – hiding his identity – that she had insulted him. No wonder he
came to the wrong conclusion. She had been the one who hid so much. If she had
simply confronted him and told him she knew Dad sent him, everything would have
been brought into the open then.
She cleared her desk and turned off the computer. Tonight would be another
lonely night in her apartment. There were offers for evenings out, but it wasn’t the
same without Justin. Maybe it would never be the same again. Even the beach wasn’t
the same. She was a different person now – hopefully a better one.
She stood and stretched. It was time to start putting her life back together. If
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Justin was going to call, he would have done so by now. Their relationship had been a
bitter lesson.
A startled scream in the lobby was followed by a loud bang. Megan dashed
around her desk.
“Clarissa?”
In the lobby, she found the secretary on the floor, clutching her leg and moaning
in agony. A chair lay on its side next to the wall.
“What happened, Clarissa?”
Mr. O’Hara erupted from his office and knelt beside her.
“What happened? Are you all right? Do we need to call an ambulance?”
Clarissa moaned again. “I think I broke my leg. I was trying to straighten that
picture on the wall. The chair slipped out from under me.” She hugged her leg and
started to cry.
Megan reached for the phone. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
Clarissa tried to sit up. “Denton is supposed to be here any minute.”
Mr. O’Hara urged her to lay back. “I’ll stay here until he comes, and then we’ll
meet you at the hospital.”
Clarissa wiped the tears from her cheek. “I feel so stupid.” She gazed up at
Megan imploringly. “Will you go with me?”
“Of course.”
Now that Denton and Clarissa were openly dating, the friction had been oiled
down to a faint squeak. Even Denton was a changed man. Unrequited love could
wreak havoc on a conscience. She should know. Now she was the grouch.
Megan followed the ambulance to the hospital and held Clarissa’s hand while the
technician took the X-rays.
Thanks to pain medication, Clarissa was resting as
comfortably as could be expected. Where were Dad and Denton? She stepped out
into the waiting room and glanced around.
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Down the hall, a tall lean man was walking beside a wheelchair. Something
about the way he walked reminded her of Justin. Would she ever get over him? As
the couple approached, the man reached down and took the infant from the woman.
He handled the baby as if it were made of crystal.
He lifted the baby and studied it
with adoring eyes. Megan froze and her heart skipped a beat. It was Justin.
As he leaned down to kiss the infant, her heart felt as if it were being torn from
her body. He lifted his head from the blanket and smiled down at the baby - and then
glanced up to meet her gaze. His amber eyes widened and darkened. The world
stood still as they stared at each other.
At that moment the elevator door opened and Denton stepped out, followed
closely by her father. From the corner of her eye she saw them approach, but the
amber gaze held hers in its intoxicating grip.
Blood pounded in her ears. Could he
hear her heart beat?
The hallway was so charged with emotional electricity that even the young
mother noticed. She glanced from Justin to Megan and then back again. Leaning
forward she reached for the baby and said something to Justin.
The moment his attention turned to the woman, Megan felt as if someone had
severed one of her limbs.
She glanced at Denton, who had instantly recognized
Justin. He made a face.
“Well, at least you know what’s kept him so busy.”
Obviously he thought the baby belonged to Justin. She rolled her eyes. “Get
your mind out of the gutter. It’s his sister.”
Mr. O’Hara pursed his lips and studied Justin. Finally he turned away. “I take it
that’s your southern beau.”
Denton waved a hand in dismissal. “Where’s Clarissa?”
“In there.”
Megan indicated the emergency room to her right.
“She’s been
sedated, but she’s conscious.”
Denton disappeared into the room, and she glanced up at her father, acutely
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aware that Justin was less than twenty feet away.
“His name is Justin.”
A twinkle came into the green eyes. “Why don’t you invite him to the party
tomorrow?”
“I thought you said I would be smart to forget him?”
Justin was handing the baby to his sister. Her heart did double time as he
straightened and looked her way again. She met his intent gaze. Should she go to
him? No, he liked to do the chasing. She held her breath, waiting for him to start in
her direction. Let him take the first step. Then she could start toward him.
The nurse began wheeling his sister down the hall and he turned abruptly to
follow. Megan expelled her breath in an exasperated sigh. How could he carry this on
for so long? It wasn’t like him to be so petty. She dropped into a chair. Obviously he
was no longer interested. And yet, wasn’t their meeting charged with emotion? Had it
been imagination - wishful thinking?
Mr. O’Hara carefully lowered his frame into the chair beside her.
“Why didn’t you say something to him? He was waiting for you to make the first
move.”
“No, he doesn’t like pushy females.” The lump was back in her throat. “In other
words, he doesn’t like me.”
Mr. O’Hara stared at her, the cogs of thought turning. Finally he spoke.
“Doesn’t like you, huh?” And that was all he said, but she had the feeling the
subject wasn’t closed.
Denton joined them, hands tucked into his dark slacks. “Where’s your country
bumpkin?”
She glared at him, speaking through clenched teeth.
“His name is Justin. Why do you guys find that name so hard to remember?”
Denton glanced at Mr. O’Hara and winked.
“Testy, isn’t she?”
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Mr. O’Hara smiled, but his mind was obviously on something else.
“Justin Keaton, didn’t you say?”
He stood, glancing toward the elevator where Justin had disappeared.
“How’s Clarissa?”
Denton settled into a chair.
“They’re putting a cast on her leg right now. It was only a fracture, but she’s
going to have to stay off it for six weeks. They’ll be done in a few minutes and I can
take her home.”
Mr. O’Hara nodded. “Well, you take care of her. I’ve got to talk some business.”
He turned toward the elevator. “I’ll check back with you later.”
The elevator door opened and he stepped inside, swallowed by its stainless steel
walls.
Was he going to talk to Justin? Nothing he could say would make any difference,
and Justin couldn’t be bought. Let him find out the hard way that his daughter had
finally found a man who was her father’s equal.
Nothing more was said about Justin, and Mr. O’Hara’s silence was confirmation
that he had tried and failed. Now maybe he would stop trying to meddle in her life.
Some things were meant to be - or not to be, and apparently this was one. Painful as it
might be, she was going to have to write any plans that included Justin out of her
future.
A sleepless night and a busy day at work did little for her disposition. As she
turned into the circular drive and shut off the engine, she let out a long sigh. If this
hadn’t been an engagement party for Denton and Clarissa, she would have stayed at
home. Everyone might have thought it was sour grapes, though. Not that it mattered,
except that kind of talk would make it uncomfortable for Denton and Clarissa.
She was late again, and everyone was on the verandah. Clarissa sat her chair
like a queen on a throne, the toe of a red pump and a white plaster clad foot peeping
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out from under her long gown.
131
Denton fussed over her, bringing her drinks and
offering hors d’oeuvres. It was amazing how a person could change. But then, he
hadn’t really changed. He had simply gone back to the man he had been when they
first met. He was right. She had been as guilty of snuffing his pride as he had been of
putting her down. Unwittingly, she had done the same thing to Justin. She deserved
what was happening now.
Megan greeted her way through a handful of guests on her route to an empty
chair. But before she reached the chair, a guest discovered and occupied it. A hushed
silence fell over the verandah and the strains of an old song filtered soft music through
the air. The lyrics clutched at her heart.
Can I have this dance for the rest of my life?
Can I be your partner every night?
When we’re together it feels so right . . .
A strong hand gripped her arm, gently but firmly pulling her out onto the open
area on the verandah. His arm slipped around her waist, drawing her close, and she
stared up into those unusual amber eyes. He spoke with a soft drawl.
“Wanna dance?”
Not trusting her voice, she moved into his arms and tried to muster a smile.
What was he doing here? Then memory flooded back with a sharp pain. Maybe he
could be bought, after all.
She finally found her voice. “Did Dad talk to you?”
He nodded. “He gave me your message. I would have said something at the
hospital, but I thought . . . I mean, I figured that was your father with you and Denton.
You two look a lot alike.” He grimaced and swore softly. “I didn’t want to start trouble
between you and your father.”
She stared at him. “Message?”
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He frowned as he led her across the verandah in a graceful waltz.
“Yes. I was surprised when he invited me to this party. He said you wanted to
talk to me.” His movements stiffened. “Or was that his idea?”
So Dad had been successful after all. “No, I wanted to talk to you, but I was with
a sick friend at the moment.”
“The lady in the red dress?”
“Yes.” What was there to say? Obviously being here was an obligation for both
of them. Tears stung her eyes and clouded her thoughts. He would be expecting
some explanation for her request, but what?
He cleared his throat. “Look, I came to California for a job interview. I wasn’t
planning on harassing you. I know I acted like a fool. You never promised anything.
You tried to tell me you weren’t interested in a serious relationship, but I didn’t want to
hear it. I’m sorry about the things I said to you.
If you . . .”
“A job interview? Did you get the job?” Her heart did a flip-flop. If he moved to
California, that meant their paths would more than likely cross now and then. The idea
was both exciting and painfully disappointing.
He favored her with a wry smile and answered dryly.
“Yes, I got the job. You’d be surprised how many people I can impress when I
put my shoes on.”
An uncomfortable warmth crawled up her neck.
“I’m not surprised you got the job. You’re the most persuasive person I’ve ever
met.” She sighed. “And just for the record, only an arrogant fool would mistake you for
an unsophisticated country hick - and I’ve never been arrogant.”
A spark of the old humor ignited in the amber eyes and she canted her head
toward her father.
“And my father is no fool.”
He nodded, leaning toward her as they turned. “I can believe that.”
The feel of his warm hand on her waist made her heart pound. The shoulder
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muscles beneath his gray blazer rippled as he moved. Could he feel the tenseness in
her body? Where were they? Oh, yes.
“Denton thought you were a gold digger. He didn’t mean all those things he said
either. My father would know better than to raise any objections about my choice in a
partner for life.”
“I see.” His dark features were twisted with a perplexed expression as he swung
her around. “You don’t have to beat me off with a stick. I won’t say anything to
embarrass you. My feelings for you will stay a secret between us.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he saying he still loved her? Then why hadn’t he
called? And why did he think she wanted him to hide his feelings? She leaned back to
read his expression and his hand gently braced her back. What did he mean?
“Your feelings? After reading my note, you still think you’re the only one with
feelings?”
No, that didn’t come out right.
He stopped dancing and stared down at her.
“Note? What note?”
“The one I tacked on your door before I left.” He slowly shook his head. “It must
have blown off in the storm. I went by the cabin but you were gone. I stayed there all
night waiting for you and didn’t notice your clothes were gone until the next morning.”
She gazed up at him.
“I wrote my number on the note and when you didn’t call, I thought you were
through with me.”
Her voice quivered with the last words, and he drew her close, speaking against
her cheek.
“I’ll never be through with you.”
Her heart pounding, she took his hand and led him off the verandah into the
garden where they could speak privately. There was something she had to set straight.
She gazed up at him in the dim light, summoning the courage to address a painful
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subject. Finally she cleared her throat and spoke.
“I wasn’t slumming it.”
His fingers tightened around her hand. By the expression on his face, it was a
sore subject for him as well.
“I know.
I shouldn’t have said all those things.
I didn’t mean them.”
He
grimaced. “I was like a young school boy when Denton walked in. I’ve never been so
angry with so little excuse. Sure, he was a pompous ass, but the truth is, he could
have been a complete gentleman and I don’t think it would have made any difference.
For the first time in my life, I was insanely jealous. My imagination got the better of me
and I took it out on you.” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed his lips across it.
“When I saw you with him in the hospital, I thought you two were an item again and I
had only myself to blame.”
“And then Dad set you straight.”
He chuckled. “No. Actually it was Sylvia, my sister. Of course it was pure
coincidence that the two-day old paper was laying on the table at breakfast - turned to
the social section where Denton’s engagement was announced.”
“And Dad didn’t say anything about it?”
“No, he caught me in the parking lot and said you were helping a friend, but you
wanted to invite me to this party. He said you had something you wanted to discuss
with me.” He studied her face. “I thought you wanted to tell me to get lost.”
“Justin,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his
mouth down to hers. Their kiss was like an Arkansas storm - wild, warm and full of
electricity. She released his neck and snuggled in the protection of his arms.
“I shouldn’t have left without talking to you, but I’m a number one chicken and I
wanted to get out ahead of that storm.”
“I wouldn’t have left you there alone. You’re so afraid of the storms.”
She squeezed his fingers. “You always were such a tutelarius love.”
His brows furrowed. “Tuta . . . what?”
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“Tutelarius. You know, protective - like a guardian – teaching me . . .”
He shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Where do you
come up with these words?”
“In the dictionary. I ran across it one time and thought it described Dad. You’re a
lot alike, you know - you and Dad.”
He regarded her with growing amusement.
“Well, they say women look for men like their fathers.” The humor died suddenly
and he groaned.
“Only you came up a little short. You should have stuck with
Denton.”
“Why?” She gasped.
He shrugged.
“Your father is a successful business man, and according to
Sylvia, Denton is destined for the same. I’m only a poor man with a dream.”
She touched his cheek. “My father started out with nothing but a brilliant mind,
like yours. Anyway, money isn’t everything. Believe me, I know. I’ve been miserable
without you.”
He watched the dancers on the verandah. “Only now, can I fully appreciate how
rustic that old cabin must have been to you. You’ve got a lot of guts, you know that? It
must have been tough for you, having grown up with all of this.” He glanced down at
her. “Why did you do it?”
She shrugged. “I thought I had to prove something to myself. I was in a rut here,
living my life according to the wishes of Denton and Dad. I almost married a man I
didn’t love, and that scared me.”
Why was he watching her so intently? He tucked his hands in the pockets of his
gray suit. He might think of himself as a poor man, but he fit into the surroundings with
ease. He finally broke the awkward silence.
“I guess that explains why you’re so reluctant to get into a serious relationship.”
She caught her breath. “I’m not reluctant . . .” She smiled coyly. “Look who’s
talking. What’s your excuse - or is it simply your slow southern way that makes you
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drag your feet? Do all you Southerners have to take your time about everything?”
A light came into his eyes and he stroked her neck softly. “Some things are
much better that way.”
A rush of blood raced to her head, pumping against his fingers. He smiled and
she pushed his hand away.
“I wouldn’t know. Obviously you’re the one with all the experience.”
He chuckled “No, all southern men aren’t slow - and obviously all California
women aren’t fast.”
He was evading the issue again. “You know what I’m talking about. But then, I
forgot. You like to do the asking - only you’re afraid to take control. Am I going to have
to take the reins?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Hold your horses before you wind up with a run away
team.” He gripped her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “There are three little
words I’d like to hear from you before we go any further.”
She stared at him, puzzled. “I love you?”
“Are you asking me, or telling me?”
She laughed softly. “Wrong punctuation? How about this?” She slipped her
arms around his neck and drew his mouth down to hers. His lips were warm, and they
sought hers eagerly.
His hands were warm on her waist as he drew her close, and
she molded her body to his. When she finally drew back, they were both breathing
heavily. She gazed up into his dark eyes and spoke in a voice choked with emotion.
“I love you.”
He smiled and spoke in a voice equally shaken.
“This time you put the punctuation at the beginning of the statement.
Keep
trying. You’re improving.”
She stomped her foot in mock exasperation.
“You’re stalling. I knew you couldn’t do it.”
He sighed heavily.
“I take it you don’t have time for the down-on-one-knee
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thing.”
Without warning he grabbed her hand and jerked her toward the verandah.
“Just a minute.”
“No, you wanted a take-charge kind of man. Come on.”
He tugged her across the verandah, and Mr. O’Hara stood as they approached,
his eyes sparkling with humor. Justin stopped in front of him, still holding her hand
captive.
“Mr. O’Hara, I’d like to have your daughters hand in marriage.”
She tried to tug her hand from his, but he held on firmly. Warmth flooded her
neck and face. Everyone was watching.
Mr. O’Hara glanced at his wife, who smiled wisely. He stared down at Megan,
eyes dancing with humor.
“If you can rope her into getting married, you’ve got my blessing. Pinning her
down to a date is going to be a problem, though.”
Justin glanced at Megan, never battling an eye.
“Will two weeks from today be too soon?”
A snicker worked its way around the verandah. Megan jerked on his hand again.
Things were getting out of control.
“Just a minute. Don’t I have any say in this? Don’t you think you need to get to
know me better?”
He nodded and addressed her father. “Is she always like this?”
Mr. O’Hara grinned. “Always.”
Justin turned to her. “All right. I know you a little better now. How about it?”
Denton was doubled over laughing. He would pick now to develop a sense of
humor. She scowled at Justin.
“How about what?”
Mr. O’Hara chuckled. “See what I mean?”
“Dad!” They were all making a joke out of the whole thing. She turned an
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imploring gaze on Justin.
“Not this way, Justin. Please?”
He sobered immediately.
“Exactly. This is something neither of us should feel pressured into.”
Her face flamed hotter and tears threatened to well up in her eyes. She had it
coming, but did he have to make it so public?
He lifted her hand and kissed it, oblivious to the guests. Gazing into her eyes, he
spoke.
“Megan O’Hara, will you marry me?”
Somewhere in the garden a bee buzzed and someone shuffled their feet. She
stared at him in amazement. Was he serious, or was this yet another ploy? But deep
inside she knew he was serious. Yet they knew so little about each other. Would he
be happy in California? Would he expect her to quit work? Would he resent her
money? Why hadn’t she considered these things before? Maybe because it didn’t
matter. After all, every married couple started out with some kind of problem. They
loved each other, and that love would be a solid foundation for their marriage. With it,
they could weather any storm. He was the only man for her, and she didn’t want to
wait any longer. Finally she managed to speak.
“I’d be honored - any time you’re ready.
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Epilogue
Justin watched Sylvia diaper and dress little Todd.
Had it actually been six
months ago that things had begun changing so dramatically? As much as he looked
forward to a life with Megan, at times the thought was intimidating. Here in California
she was in her element. She was so confident and independent that she could be a
different person. And yet, the new Megan – or maybe it was the old he had never seen
– was even more alluring.
She was poised somewhere between the past and
tomorrow. She was today with yesterdays morals.
“That pride is how you almost lost her in the first place,” Sylvia said as she
smoothed the tape down on the disposable diaper.
Justin frowned. “I didn’t say I was too proud to take money from her. I just said it
was going to take some getting used to – as will the lifestyle.”
Sylvia nodded. “I suppose – though I don’t think I’d mind getting used to financial
security.”
“That’s different. You’re a woman.”
Sylvia’s brows shot up. “I wouldn’t say that in front of Megan if I was you.”
His neck felt warm. “I guess you’re right, but . . .” he shrugged. “Women have
had centuries of . . . “ He shrugged again and grinned.
Sylvia laughed. “I suppose so. In any case, it’s your personality that Megan
finds so irresistible. Her father said she seems so much happier since you two got
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together. He seems like such a nice man.”
Justin nodded. “And impatient.”
“Well, she’s his only child and he wants an heir. Maybe he’s wondering why
you’re having second thoughts.”
Justin frowned. “I’m not having second thoughts. It’s just that we came from
such totally different backgrounds – even if you don’t consider the money. We need
time to adjust.”
Sylvia smiled. “Stop dragging your feet. Does it take more time to adjust while
you’re married than it does when you’re engaged?
Admit it.
You’re afraid of
commitment.”
He lifted Todd into his arms and gazed down at him. It wasn’t commitment he
was afraid of. It was failing in her eyes that concerned him. In any case, Sylvia was
right. Putting off the wedding so they could adjust implied that if they were unable to
adjust they wouldn’t get married. He had no doubt that they could and would adjust to
each other.
Sylvia rested her chin on both hands and sighed.
“Both of you look at things positively. You’ll have times – everyone does, but
you’ll make it together. You two are the most determined people I’ve ever met. If you
set your mind to it . . .”
“If?” he interrupted forcefully. “When,” he corrected firmly.
She smiled up at him. “When,” she amended.
His attention returned to Todd. He wanted a baby too, but Megan wanted to
wait. She was probably right. They would have enough on their plate for a while, and
waiting would assure that they could focus on the baby. Whether or not Mr. O’Hara
had an heir was the least of his concerns. He wasn’t going to let his child grow up with
all that pressure. He and Sylvia had a wonderful childhood. Their greatest social
obligation had been the local church fund raiser. His children with Megan would have
opportunities he and Sylvia never had, but no one was going to push them into a life
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other than what they wanted.
He handed Todd to Sylvia and stood.
“I’d better go. I’m not looking forward to the wedding chaos, but waiting isn’t
going to make things any better.”
He reached down and caressed the top of her head.
“Thanks, sis. I can always count on you.”
She pulled his hand from her hair and held it a moment.
“Don’t you forget that.”
She lifted Todd to her shoulder and followed Justin to the door.
“Dad is looking forward to traveling out here for the wedding.”
He gazed down at her absently.
“I hated to leave him behind that way, but he doesn’t want to leave Arkansas.”
She smiled. “So go see him now and then. You have the cabin and it’s only a
few hours ride from there. I’ll bet Megan would enjoy the opportunity. I know she’s
looking forward to meeting Dad.
Anyway, who knows?
Maybe Dad will like it out
here and stay.” She rolled her eyes and made a face. “Then again, maybe not.”
Justin nodded and gave her a wry smile. “I’m thinking about buying a house in
the mountains. It won’t be the same as home, but maybe I’ll get used to that too. At
least it would be a retreat from all this.”
He waved a hand at the smog and all that caused it. Of all the changes he
faced, that was by far the most intimidating. But Los Angeles wasn’t all of California,
and Megan was toying with the idea of opening another office further north.
He sighed heavily. Megan had so many ideas – ideas that could easily merge
with his. Yes, life had changed in the last six months, but they were fortunate that
those changes had been for the good. Whether or not their life together was a success
had little to do with wealth or lack of it. If they failed, it would have little to do with her
heritage and much to do with how they faced adversity – and if they faced it together.
Money wasn’t going to make their life easy or simple any more than a lack of it could
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diminish their relationship. They made the difference, and they were both tenacious
enough to make it last.
He strode to his rental car with new confidence.
Tomorrow he would make
arrangements to fly back to Arkansas and drive his car back. Megan wanted to go with
him and today that sounded like an excellent idea. He could introduce her to his father
in the process.
He waved at Sylvia and turned the car toward Megan’s apartment. Life was
good and bound to get better.
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