Desert Devil (16 page)

"Someone—someone is calling!" she gasped.

He lifted his dark head, scowling at the interruption.

"Mr. Taylor? Are you still out here? The omelet is almost ready."

"We'll be in in just a moment, thank you," Thorne called back, nothing in his steady voice betraying the pounding heartbeat Juli could feel in his chest, pressed against her own. His caresses might have been deliberately calculated to arouse her, but he had not remained unaffected himself. He released her from the locked grip of his legs and the water surging around her hips felt almost cool now after the heat of his body.

"Saved by the bell—the dinner bell," he said lightly with a mocking smile. Pointedly, he added, "Though there is nothing that says we
must
eat right now."

"Omelets toughen as they cool," Juli said shakily. "We should eat it right away."

"Of course."

He helped her out of the pool, Juli sharply aware of his eyes roaming over the daring bathing suit, and they went to separate rooms to dress. Juli had brought cream-colored slacks and a silky fuchsia blouse. She refreshed her lipstick and eyeshadow, though her hands were so shaky she had to wipe off smeared lipstick once and start again. She knew her honey tan looked better than any artificial makeup she could put on her skin.

Thorne was waiting when she stepped outside and they went into the dining room together. Juli caught her breath. This was no casual snack. The only light came from three slim candles in a silver candelabrum. The soft light flickered on creamy damask tablecloth, fine china, and elegant silverware. A corked bottle, half-covered with ice, leaned in a silver bucket nearby. The omelet, higher and fluffier than any Juli had ever made, rested in a nest of parsley. There was a green salad and variety of dressing, plus a small tray of toast triangles. It was basically the same simple meal Juli had planned, yet far more impressively elegant.

Thorne seated her expertly, then just as expertly uncorked the bottle and poured some of the pale, bubbling liquid into Juli's glass.

"Champagne?" she gasped, disbelievingly.

"Of course. Aren't we celebrating a truce? A cessation of hostilities?"

Was he somehow making fun of her, Juli wondered uneasily, talking about a "truce"? But when he lifted his gracefully curved champagne glass, his tilted head and expression seemed merely questioning about her delay in responding to his gesture.

Juli lifted her glass. "A… a truce," she agreed tremulously. She sipped the champagne, her feelings a strange mixture of giddiness and pleasure and apprehension. The omelet was delicious, succulent with buttery bits of mushroom and delicately flavored shrimp. The Roquefort dressing for the salad was creamy-rich, the salad greens crisp. Juli let herself luxuriate in the richness of it all, refusing to let herself be upset by the unwanted thought that Thorne's cook, Estelle, was evidently not unaccustomed to whipping up elegant little late dinners for two.

Now Thorne seemed to have undergone yet another transformation. His conversation jumped lightly from subject to subject. He was full of amusing little anecdotes about the town and company and current events. Juli responded in a similarly light vein, exchanging a bit of amusing repartee with him about women's rights, keeping away from the emotionally and sexually charged atmosphere of the pool.

And yet in spite of the light, brisk conversation, Juli was aware of a rising tension between them. It was not the tension of anger that so often vibrated between them, however. It was more a tension of anticipation, as if an unknown force were carrying them higher and higher toward some breathless climax.

Estelle brought dessert and then discreetly retired. It was yet another almost sinfully rich concoction of angel-food cake and fresh strawberries and thick cream. Juli ate hers slowly, partly to savor the lush flavors, partly to postpone the climax toward which the evening seemed inevitably rising. And yet she hardly knew if she put it off because of reluctance or sweet anticipation…

They finished the dessert and had another glass of champagne. How many had she had? Juli wondered a bit giddily. "I really must be going now," she said finally.

He eyed her lazily. "Surely you don't intend to eat and run. I thought you might stay… longer."

Juli felt a small tingle of alarm at that expressive pause between words. His eyes looked lazily heavy-lidded, but behind the relaxed expression she caught a gleam of something else. He didn't really think she was going to stay here all night, did he? She was in love with him. She knew he found her attractive and desirable. She also knew those feelings didn't necessarily balance out, that if something happened between them it would involve her heart, but perhaps only his body. But even if he didn't love her, she was uneasily aware of his expert ability to manipulate her through the treacherous demands of her own body, and in the end it was her heart that could come out the loser.

Smoothly, as if sensing her doubt and withdrawal, he changed the subject. "Before you go, would you like to see the pictures I took of the sunset the evening you climbed up to the ridge?"

"Oh, yes, I'd love to," Juli agreed eagerly, relieved. Photography seemed a safe enough subject.

He led her to another room, a combination home office and den. Along the way he pointed out his darkroom.

"Brian was telling me that you're quite well known for your desert photography," Juli commented.

Thorne paused and eyed her reflectively for a moment before ushering her into the den. "Oh, yes, Brian Eames. Have you been seeing much of him?" He sounded disapproving before he even heard her answer.

"Not really," she said uncomfortably, wishing she hadn't mentioned Brian's name. "He did stop by the trailer one evening for a while."

Thorne made no comment. The wall switch turned on two lamps, revealing a pleasantly masculine room with a heavy walnut desk and bookshelves, several bronze sculptures of Western art, and a colorful Navajo Indian rug on the floor. The walls were decorated with desert scenes of mountains and cactuses and weathered buildings. A huge sectional sofa upholstered in lush chocolate-colored velvet filled one corner. Within the alcove formed by the corner sections of the sofa, an enormous burl of polished redwood served as a coffee table.

"Make yourself comfortable." He motioned with a careless wave toward the sofa. "Would you like coffee or something else to drink?"

"No, thank you." Hands held behind her, Juli wandered around the room, realizing that the pictures which she had at first thought were paintings were actually color photographs, so artistically done that they were art. No wonder, she thought, that he had handed back her sad little attempts at desert photography without comment.

Now he brought out a sheaf of color photographs, but before showing them to her he casually flicked a switch on a built-in stereo, and the sound of soft Spanish guitars drifted through the room. He set the photographs on the coffee table and sat down beside her on the soft luxury of the sofa.

The first few photographs were everything Juli had wanted to capture on film but hadn't when she climbed the ridge that other evening. She exclaimed over them, then went on to the next and in surprise saw a human figure among the saguaros in the distance, too far away to be recognizable, except that Juli knew who it was.

"Oh, look!" she said, laughing. "You caught me in one of your photographs."

"So I did," he agreed noncommittally.

In the next photograph she was close enough to be recognizable. Recognizable, too, was a certain determination written on her face as she crawled over a broken slab of boulder blocking her way. But the next photograph was the real shocker.

There was nothing of the sunset in it, just Juli. She was resting with one foot propped up on a rock, her body half-turned away from the camera as she looked at something in the distance, one hand caught in the gesture of brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. Juli's lips parted and she felt color flood her face. She had no memory of the moment, and yet she looked posed with deliberate provocativeness, thrusting breasts sharply silhouetted, the halter top drooping on one side by the raised position of her arm to expose the inner curve of her breast. There was an embarrassingly impudent thrust to her hips, and even her facial expression, which must have had something to do with the sunset she was watching, looked dreamily sensual.

"Why, you must have been standing only a few feet away from me!" Juli gasped. "But I don't remember that at all."

"Telephoto lens," Thorne said laconically.

"You mean you were deliberately taking photographs of me that I knew nothing about?" she asked, uncertain whether to be angry or flattered, and feeling a little of both. "That's almost like spying!"

"You were trespassing," he pointed out. "The photographs could have proved that, if it were ever necessary."

"Oh, come now," Juli scoffed. "You surely didn't think I was climbing up there to sabotage your house!"

"You were rather angry at me, as I recall," he reminded, but the devilish gleam in his eyes told her he was only teasing her now.

"Yes. Well, I've apologized," she said a little awkwardly. "And I really must be going now. I do want to thank you for a lovely day."

She started to rise, but the pressure of his hand on her arm detained her. It was not a harsh pressure, but neither could it be ignored.

"Listen to the music," he said softly.

Reluctantly, and yet held by some force that was stronger than her conscious will, she obeyed. The stereophonic sound from unseen speakers drifted through the room as if borne on a tropical breeze, as real as if softly strumming guitars were all around them. The music was delicate, now sad, now lilting, but always just beneath the surface was something else, a subtly sensual beat to which her pulse began to throb in response. He leaned back, one arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her head against his own shoulder.

She knew she should pull away, should jump and run, but those sensible messages from her mind had no power over her languid muscles, drugged by the warmth of his body, champagne, and the music. She seemed filled with a floating lassitude that made any conscious movement of her own impossible, not even when she felt Thorne shift their bodies so they were more lying than sitting on the lush sofa. His lips roamed her face, brushing her temples and eyelids, exploring the soft curve of her cheek and the pulsebeat in her throat. Her eyes were half-closed, his face a shadowy blur over her with a strand of dark hair falling across his forehead. The weight of his body, half over hers, was not unpleasant, and when his mouth found hers, her arms moved of their own volition to encircle his neck.

The kiss was gentle at first, but deepened as his mouth boldly explored hers. Tentatively at first, but with an increasing boldness of her own, her mouth explored, too.

There was no conversation. Words were superfluous, unnecessary to the way their mouths and bodies seemed meant for each other. He unfastened the top buttons of her blouse and slid the material aside to expose her shoulder, creamy-gold in the lamplight. The teasing touch of his tongue left a trail of fire across her shoulder and then dipped with practiced expertise to the curve of her breast, undaunted by the flimsy barrier of her lacy bra.

Juli's floating mind gave no heed to where all this was leading. She was simply floating down a corridor of exquisite pleasure where her senses were drowned in lush sound and sensuous caresses. The whisper of his lips in her ear didn't form words. She was only conscious of the husky sound of his voice, the feel of his warm breath on her ear. Then a certain urgency in his voice broke through.

"Let's go somewhere more comfortable—my room…" His lips teased the lobe of her ear.

"Your room?" she repeated, faint alarm seeping into the dreamy, anesthetized swirls of her mind.

"I want you with me all night," he whispered huskily. "I want to wake up in the morning and find you there in my arms."

Her mind played with the tantalizing thought, and the love she felt for him surged through her in a hot flood. Yes… yes! She wanted to lie in his arms and wake up beside him! But not just for a night—for always.

That thought hit her like a sudden drench of cold water thrown in her face. She struggled to sit up, aware of her unbuttoned blouse and disheveled hair, her sandals fallen to the floor. His shirt was unbuttoned, too, and the lamplight glinted on his bronzed chest and the dark hair slanting across his forehead.

"What's the matter?" he demanded, raising up on one elbow beside her.

What was the matter? she thought dizzily. She wanted love and he offered sex. She wanted a lifetime and he offered a night. She wanted his heart—but all that could come of this was her own heartbreak. And yet another part of her fiercely demanded that she throw cautious reason to the wind and take the temporary ecstasy he offered, however brief it might be. Recklessly, she was ready to give in to that demand when another shocking thought stabbed her. Had Thorne deliberately
not
fixed the water this evening in order to maneuver her into this very position? Had he deliberately calculated and cold-bloodedly planned to seduce her for a night's pleasure and then go back to the arms of his true love, Nicole?

"What's the matter?" he repeated, more roughly this time.

"I don't know…" Her voice was tremulous. "I'm not sure. I feel so confused…"

"Confused? About what?" he demanded. "You want me as much as I want you. I know you do."

It was true. Her body almost ached with wanting him. But the trouble was, she wanted so much more than he did.

"I don't get this," he said, his voice tight with anger now. "You lead me on until I'm half-crazy with wanting you, and then you go all coy and tearful—"

"I led
you
on!" Juli gasped. "After you… you practically attacked me in the pool and fed me champagne and—"

"Oh, come on now," he scoffed harshly. "I haven't done a single thing you weren't already willing and eager to do. And don't tell me staying the night wasn't a part of your clever little scheme."