Black Ember (12 page)

“Oh, no,” she said. “What if it rains tomorrow?”

“I’m sure Deneen’s got a backup plan,” Zane said. “Probably two or three of ’em.”

“How many guests is she expecting?”

“Don’t know.”

“But—what if the field gets too muddy to park cars in?”

“No idea.”

“The barn would probably work, I suppose, as long as there’s electricity—do you know if it’s structurally sound?”

“Uh-uh.”

“But what about the music? The caterers? Refrigeration?”

“You’re acting like you’re the one getting married tomorrow,” Zane said, steering her toward the passenger door as a flash of lightning cracked over a distant field.

“Oh!” Caryn said, startled. “I’ve—I’ve never liked lightning.”

“Tough girl like you?” Zane said, and then—maybe noticing that she really meant it, he slung an arm around her shoulders. Caryn could feel the smooth lining of his jacket on her skin through the knotted top. He pulled her closer against him, and she went—gladly. “You know that lightning’s a good mile or two away. There’s no danger.”

“I guess,” Caryn said in a small voice. “It’s not really a logical fear.”

But it was an old one, stemming from a night when she was twelve years old and had promised her mother that she was plenty old enough to stay by herself for a few hours. Randall was taking her to a fancy restaurant with his co-stars in a new film, and her regular sitter had the mumps—but the real draw of the evening was that she would be allowed to stay up in her mother and Randall’s bed with a bowl of popcorn and the television tuned to anything she wanted. Which had been fine, until a summer storm slammed into the house, rattling the windows and lighting up the sky outside with lightning. The thunder seemed closer and closer, until it seemed as though the house itself would split in two. It was before cell phones were common, but Caryn called the phone number her mother left over and over—later, Georgia remorsefully would explain that the restaurant had been so packed that no one had been able to find her—and finally retreated to the damp, musty basement of their big Hollywood house where she waited out the storm on top of the washing machine.

It had been one of the scariest, and loneliest, nights of her life.

Zane opened the door to the truck, but before she could get in, he pulled her gently back. “Are you okay…really?”

“I am,” Caryn said, nodding. And she was. Here, in surroundings as unfamiliar as any she’d ever found herself in, she was pulling off a scam and lying to the innocent bystanders who’d offered a helping hand, and so far she hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the man she’d traveled all this distance to meet. But Zane somehow made all the difference. Which was silly, because he hadn’t exactly come to the bar to rescue her. He was no knight in shining armor, just a guy trying to get out of an unpleasant duty. He was using her.

But she didn’t mind being used. She kind of liked it.

“You don’t seem okay,” he said skeptically, running his hands—and oh, those rough calluses—along her arm. “You’re trembling.”

She wasn’t about to admit that the cause of her tremors wasn’t the impending storm but the touch of the first man to pay attention to her since Nathanial. Or that no man—not even Nathanial—had ever made her feel quite as inexplicably safe but also turned on as Zane did.

“I’m just a little cold.”

“Ah,” Zane said, but he didn’t stop rubbing her arm. He stared into her eyes with concern and something else, something deeper and darker.

For a moment, Caryn was certain he was about to kiss her. And she was ready for it, wanted it, was turning her face toward his, when another clap of thunder sounded, this one seeming much closer.

“Okay,” Zane laughed. “Guess we’d better get a move on before we get drenched. But I’ve got an idea.”

He waited until she was in the car before carefully closing her door, then jogged around to the driver’s seat. Another bolt of lightning illuminated him as he moved, and she felt a rush of relief when he slid into the seat.

“So, where are you taking me?” she said as he turned the key and the big truck roared to life.

“It’s a surprise. No questions.”

They drove in silence, taking the turn toward town. After a while, the country lane joined up with the busier route toward town. Even at this hour, and in this weather, a cavalcade of flat-bed trucks and tankers made their way into and out of town, carrying the supplies and equipment that kept the rigs running.

“Poor Deneen,” Caryn said as they reached the edge of town. “She’s probably wondering if she’s going to have to come up with an extra groomsman to replace you.”

“Matthew’s got plenty,” Zane groused. “I doubt he’d even miss me.”

They passed the stores and hotels and bars and restaurants that Caryn had seen just yesterday when she arrived in town, but they looked different at night. Neon sparkled in the windows, and people strolled along the sidewalk. Parking lots were choked with cars and the smell of food cooking carried into the car. Friday night in a boomtown was, apparently, a happening time.

It took only a few moments to drive the entire length of town. When they emerged from the other end, the houses gave way to sprawling ranches and Caryn could see the orange glow of the rigs far in the distance.

Zane turned onto a country road and slowed as the truck bounced over the uneven surface. Up ahead a radio tower loomed suddenly in the dark, its single light warning off low-flying aircraft, the rest of it looking abandoned.

Zane pulled up in front of it and cut the engine. “KDAK,” he said. “Or, it used to be anyway, before the station got bought out by one of the big media conglomerates. Now we get all our news out of Minot, and this thing’s just sitting out here rotting. Best view in town, though.”

“You can’t possibly think I’m going to climb that thing with you,” Caryn said.

“What’s the matter, Barracuda? You’re not
scared
, are you?”

“Of course not,” Caryn snapped. And she was halfway to thinking up a reasonable excuse when Zane reached over the console between them and ran his fingers through her short, chopped hair. He separated a few strands that had clumped together before smoothing the whole mess back behind her ear. When his fingertips touched the sensitive skin behind her ear, she thought she might jump out of her skin.

“You’re quite the big talker, aren’t you?” he murmured, his tone faintly mocking and way too dangerous. “You’re working so hard to seem tough, with your crazy hair and your silly makeup and those…clothes. But I think that underneath it all, you’re someone entirely different. Someone you’re too afraid to let anyone see.”

“I’m…not afraid,” she mumbled, her brain hopelessly outmatched by her nerve endings. “I’m not.”

And then, to prove it, she pulled away and threw open the door, and jumped down onto the ground, and raced toward the tower.

She had one hand on the first rung when Zane practically tackled her from behind. He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her back from the tower, toward the little building that once housed the station’s offices.

“You really are out of your mind, aren’t you?” he said. “You can’t climb that thing during a lightning storm!”

“I know that,” Caryn said, irritated, even though she had somehow momentarily lost her senses. Zane had her in such a spin that she had been about to ascend a giant metal lightning rod, ensuring she’d end the evening as black and scary-looking as her eyeliner.

“That’s not why I brought you here,” he went on, taking her hand and pulling her toward the building. “This is the highest point in the county. Out back here, the land slopes down all the way to the Yellow River Valley, where you can see…”

They followed a narrow sidewalk around the building. In back, an overhang protected a small patio with a couple of weathered benches. Zane sat, pulling her down next to him.

“…Everything,” he finished.

Caryn looked down into the valley, thunder rolling through the sky above them, and leaned into Zane’s body, his arm encircling her comfortingly. And then she saw them: two—no, three—bright orange flares dotting the vast black plain below.

“Oh, wow! Are those rigs bringing up oil?”

“Nope, but they will be. Right now they’ve made the first bore and that’s the trapped gas burning off. They have to let it burn until it’s safe to bring in the rest of the equipment. It’s like the world’s biggest bonfire. You can see them from miles away. I gotta say, I never get tired of that view.”

“It’s beautiful,” Caryn breathed. “And eerie and kind of…lonely looking.”

There was that word again—an odd theme to thread through this evening, when she hadn’t been alone at all except for the few moments she took to visit the ladies’ room. Together, she and Zane stared at the far-off fires. After a while, when Caryn’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she picked out other, smaller lights even farther away.

Zane pointed out the rigs in various states of the drill cycle, explaining how the equipment was moved to the site, erected, and put into action. He clearly loved what he did, but it was the reassuring cadence of his voice, rather than his words, that captivated Caryn. She let her eyes drift, watching the sparkling lights through half-lowered lashes.

Then lightning burst out right over them, followed almost immediately by a deafening clap of thunder. Caryn practically leapt off the bench, but Zane pulled her back down, shushing her.

“That’s the tower doing its job,” he murmured, pulling Caryn back into her arms. “You really are safe here. I wouldn't have brought you if you weren’t.”

“Just so you know,” Caryn said shakily, “if you end up getting struck by lightning, I haven’t got the faintest idea how to resuscitate you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Zane said. “If you leave me for dead and save yourself, I’ll understand.”

“I’m running for the nearest…um, what exactly am I supposed to run for? Not a tree, right?”

Zane shook his head. “Where on earth did you grow up? I learned all this in kindergarten, during disaster drills. Wait, I’ve got it—you never went to school, right? Child of the streets? Learned from hard knocks? You probably can’t even do math, which would explain why you suck as a waitress.”

Caryn laughed, wondering what Zane would think of her summa cum laude degree from Stanford. “Something like that. But I was born in California, if you must know. Good with earthquakes. Not so much with tornadoes, tropical storms, or, as it turns out, lightning.”

“California, eh?” Zane turned her slightly in his arms so he could study her face. She could feel his breath faintly on her skin, but she couldn’t make out many details in the darkness. “A clue. That must have been before you moved to the projects in Queens, right? Except for some reason, I believe you this time.”

She hadn’t meant to say even that—hadn’t meant to reveal anything about herself—and now that she had, she felt vulnerable. Like she’d made a misstep, invited disaster, broken the rules she’d set for herself.

“Well, it was a long time ago,” she amended. “Just when I was a kid. I haven’t lived there in years.”

“Tell me more.”

“No, sorry. I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t.”

Caryn didn’t answer, figuring that silence was her best bet to prevent incriminating herself.

“You’re the most interesting woman I’ve met in a long time, Barracuda,” Zane finally said, tracing his finger over the surface of her face, as though trying to learn it in the darkness, as a blind man might.

“I’m not staying,” she blurted out. Damn. So not what she meant to say. “I mean, this is just a…layover. A few days here and then I’m moving on.”

“A rolling stone,” Zane said, nodding as though to himself. “Don’t fence you in. That’s what you’re saying, right?”

“Um, well…”

“Loud and clear, Carrie. You don’t want to get tied down. Well, I hate to tell you, sweetheart, but that makes you just about perfect for me, because as it happens, we’re two of a kind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Caryn demanded, her thoughts becoming increasingly muddled by the things he was doing, his fingers on her skin, his other hand in her hair.

“I only do brief encounters myself,” he growled. “You want to love me and leave me, you’ll get no complaints. I like you—a lot, actually, and maybe that’s enough. Let me enjoy you while you’re here, whether it’s a day or a week, and I guarantee I’ll work hard to be memorable.”

“You’re offering me a one-night stand?”

“Why not? You’re the one who kissed me in the parking lot before—seemed like a loud and clear invitation.”

Why did the idea hurt? Why was she hesitating, now, when she’d given herself permission to be someone different for a few days? Someone who had flings without investing her heart—someone who took what she needed without asking permission and without worrying about everyone else’s feelings.

With Zane, she could be herself. She could let herself feel and do the things she’d never felt comfortable doing with Nathanial. Oh, Nathanial was a considerate lover, experienced, technically proficient, but Caryn had always felt like she had to be equally perfect to please him. She always worried that she was too loud or too clumsy or that she did the wrong thing at the wrong time. She worried about her hair and whether she’d shaved all the right places; she wondered if she measured up to the other women he’d been with. Sometimes she made excuses rather than subject herself to the exhausting parade of insecurities that had come to be connected with intimacy, and a tiny part of her, when he called off the wedding, had been secretly relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about having sex with him any more.

But Zane was different. When he touched her, both her body and brain went crazy, rational thoughts disappeared out the window, and she was concerned only with one thing:
more
.

“You haven’t given me an answer yet, Carrie,” Zane muttered, his voice dipping into a low register. “In fact you’re what we might call an uncooperative witness. So here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to kiss you, just like you kissed me. You can stop me at any time. You can say no or push me away, and we’re done, no hard feelings. But if you don’t…”