Slow Heat in Heaven (35 page)

"Schyler, don't snub me. Let me love you." His breathing accelerated. "Damn! Wouldn't it be exciting to make

love right here? Right now." He backed her against the edge of the desk.

"Have you lost your mind?" she gasped.

"Yes. I'm crazy about you."

"Don't you see how wrong this is?"

"It's not wrong. It can't be. Not when I love you so much. What we had is still there. You'll see."

Schyler had too much dignity to engage in a sophomoric, physical struggle. Sternly she said, "No, Ken."

"Why not? We're alone here."

"Not quite."

They sprang apart at the sound of the intrusive third voice.

Cash Boudreaux was lounging against the doorjamb.

"I hate to break up such a tender scene, but I need to see you about something, Miss Schyler."

She tried to appear composed, but doubted that she pulled off the act. "That's all right, Cash. Ken was just leaving."

Ken's jaw dropped. "You're sending me packing so you can talk to
him?
"

She would have to make amends for the slight later, but she couldn't have Cash believing that she was carrying on an affair with her brother-in-law. "Cash and I need to talk business. What you and I were discussing can wait till later."

He glared at her furiously. "Okay, sure," he said curtly. He nudged Cash aside on his way out the door.

Cash waited until Ken's car had cleared the other side of the bridge and the dust had settled before he turned back to Schyler. "Is that how he earns his salary these days, by keeping the boss lady's hormones well tuned?"

"What Ken was doing here is between him and me."

"That much was obvious."

"And none of your business, Mr. Boudreaux."

The atmosphere in the room was explosive. If one had struck a match, the whole place could have gone up in flames. Cash's eyes flayed her with censure. She stared him down. She would be damned before stammering any self-defensive explanations. Let him think what he would.

"I just don't get you, lady," he said.

"Not that I'm all that interested, but what don't you get?"

"You've got a house like Belle Terre, but you run off and live on the other side of the world."

"I had my reasons."

"For leaving,
oui.
But why'd you stay so long?" He slid his hands, palms out, into the rear pockets of his jeans and tilted his head arrogantly. "But I guess that guy you live with over there has something to do with that."

"Mark has a great deal to do with that, yes."

His lip curled cynically. "What's your game, huh? What are you doing, playing Howell and this English dude against each other, and taking on anybody else who gives you a crotch throb in the process?"

"I'm not playing anybody against anybody," Schyler said, seething. "Ken is my sister's husband. As for Mark, he's not English. In the second place, a man like you couldn't begin to understand our relationship. There's much more to it than lust and sweat."

"Lust and sweat should be enough."

"Maybe for you, but not for me. And not for Mark."

He nodded slowly, still treating her to a judgmental stare. "Something else confounds me. You take in a woman with Gayla's past when most respectable ladies wouldn't spit on her if she was on fire, but you have no conscience against screwing your sister's husband."

Schyler wanted to launch herself at him, scratching and clawing, but she knew that's what he wanted her to do. He wanted to drag her down to his level. She wasn't about to let him do that. If she didn't need him to keep Crandall Logging running smoothly, she would fire him on the spot. Sadly, she did need him. If she had to suffer his insults for the sake of Belle Terre, she would.

"You overstep your position, Mr. Boudreaux," she said loftily. "If you've come to me with a business concern, kindly state what it is. If not, then we both have better things to do."

His eyelids were still half-closed and his expression sardonic, but he removed his hands from his jeans pockets. "How's Gayla?"

"She slept through the night. Drank some tea this morning. Went to the bathroom. Slept again."

"Anymore bleeding?"

"No."

"Good. Let me know if there's any change."

"I will."

By now he was standing close. He smelled like the forest at daybreak. She could feel the edge of the desk against her buttocks. She wanted him to back her against it, and that made her angry with herself. "Is that all?"

"No."

"Well?" Her heart was beating rapidly, thinking that he might kiss her yet.

"This was tacked to the office door this morning when I got here. You were late. I've been holding on to it. Thought you ought to see it."

He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and came up with a snapshot. He passed it to her. Disappointed, she took the photograph from him and studied it, but after a moment quizzically looked up at him. "The significance escapes me."

"It's a pit bull bitch and her litter.
Four
puppies, if I'm counting teats right."

The significance of it struck her full force then. "Jigger," she said softly.

"Oui.
Guess he wanted you to know he's not quitting the gambling trade, even though he's suffered a setback."

"I called the state representative's office several times, but never got through to him personally. His secretary didn't seem impressed by my problem and suggested that I take it up with local authorities."

"And?"

"I got nowhere. Jigger's probably laughing up his sleeve at me."

"I warned you."

She thumped the snapshot with her finger and dropped it onto her desk. "He's still holding a grudge."

"I told you he would."

"Would you kindly stop rubbing my nose in your superior knowledge of the subject," she snapped. "If you want to say something, tell me what I should do."

"All right." He bent over her, until she had to reach back and support herself on the desk. "You want my advice? Get the hell out of here and go back to England."

"What?!"

"Things have been shot to hell ever since you got here."

"That's not my fault."

"Isn't it?"

"No."

"Name one mess you haven't made messier."

"What would all those loggers be doing for work if it weren't for me?"

Because what she said was true, Cash straightened suddenly. He spun around and rammed his fist into the nearest wall. He shook his head to clear it of angry frustration, then looked back at her. "Why didn't you just leave well enough alone?"

"Because everything wasn't 'well enough.'"

"It was a freak accident that Jigger's dog attacked you."

"I doubt you would have thought so if it had been you. Or your child."

"I don't have
a
child."

"That's not my fault either."

They fell back strategically to plan their next attack. Cash came out fighting first.

"Cotton would have figured out a way to pay off that loan."

"How? He was out of cash."

"That's bull. He's got friends, friends with money, drinking buddies, who would have covered that note for him in a minute. But no, you had to go butting in. You had to undertake all this," he shouted, waving his hand to encompass the entire landing. "To feed your own goddamn ego."

"It has nothing to do with ego."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"That's my business."

"Why? Why didn't you just leave us the hell alone?"

"It was something I had to do!"

"And fuck up everybody else's life in the process!"

He headed for the door. Schyler stepped between him and it. "Cash, don't fight me. Help me. Just how ruthless could Jigger tie?"

"You saw Gayla."

"Ruthless enough to jeopardize that Endicott shipment if he got wind of it?"

"Probably."

Laying her hand on his arm, she looked up at him in appeal . Anger and pride were diminished by worry. "What am I going to do?"

His eyes reflected no emotion. They seemed uncaring and indifferent to her problems, as if they had no direct bearing on him. "You're a smart lady." Cruelly he shook off her restraining hand. "You'll land on your feet."

Rhoda's long fingernail twirled a clump of body hair on Cash's lower belly. Her tongue lapped at his nipple like it was the curly tip on the top of a frozen custard cone. She made snuffling noises that gave the impression she thought it was just as sweet.

"We haven't had a nooner in so long," she sighed, taking a love bite of his tough, heavily veined bicep. "I'm glad you called."

Cash had one arm crooked behind him, his head resting in the palm of his hand. His eyes were focused on the water rings on the ceiling as the smoke from his cigarette snaked upward toward them. He was wondering if Rhoda
knew, that for all her talent and trouble, he was still soft. His jeans were unsnapped, but so far she hadn't investigated inside them. She would be mad as hell when she discovered he wasn't loaded and ready to fire.

His cock was lusting for somebody else. Rhoda wasn't going to appease it. He had known that before he had called her, but on the outside chance that she would temporarily distract him, he called her anyway.

So far nothing she had done had worked. That left him feeling mad as a hornet and mean as hell. He pushed Rhoda off him and left the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"It's hotter than hell in here."

"It is not. If anything it's too cold. The air conditioner is blowing full blast."

"All right then, it's too cold." He located an ashtray on the dresser and ground out his cigarette, wishing he could put out the fire in his belly as easily.

"You're in another stinky mood."

"It's been a stinky twenty-four hours."

Not really. This time yesterday he'd been watching Schyler get delightfully tipsy on champagne, becoming softer, sexier with each sip. He'd watched her reclining in the car with her knees spread wide, her hair tangled and blowing in the wind, her lips slightly parted while she gently snored through them. All her defenses had been down.

"Cash?"

"What? Goddamn it. Can't you see I'm thinking?"

"I thought you came here to think about me," Rhoda said shortly.

He was ready to hammer home a scathing comment, but he checked himself. What the hell was the matter with him? He had a hot and willing broad in bed waiting for him. She was naked and she was nasty, and he was moping around like a dumb-assed kid with a big red zit on prom night.

"That's right, Rhoda. I did. Give me something to think about."

He dove on top of her and covered her mouth with his.

He held her head between his hands. His kiss was rapacious. Cruelly he ground his pelvis against hers.

"Cash, my God," she gasped several moments later when she came up for air. "Calm down, baby. We don't have to rush it, do we?"

"Yes," he muttered against her neck. "We do." He fumbled to draw out a semi-erection that was showing promise. He had to get it inside Rhoda before he remembered she wasn't his first choice.

"Wait, I want to show you something." She ignored his cursing impatience and smiled seductively. "Look at these." She reached for her handbag on the nightstand, letting her nipple drag across the starched sheet. When she lay back down, both nipples stood out.

Cash sat up, snarling with disgust for himself, for her, for everything. Apprehensively he stared down at what she had handed him. "Pictures?"

His attitude changed after glancing at the first snapshot. He thumbed through the stack of photographs, carefully studying each one before going on to the next. Without moving his head, he glanced up at Rhoda from beneath his brows. Her smile defined licentiousness. He went back to the photographs and looked at all of them a second time.

"That's a really
wide. . .
smile you've got there, Rhoda." His pause was deliberately timed so that his observation had an insulting double entendre.

Rhoda, however, was too in love with the pictures to notice his intentional slur. "Guess who took them?"

"I don't like guessing games."

"Dale," she said on a high giggle.

"He likes to take pictures of naked women?" Cash's passions hadn't just cooled. They'd gone cold. He thoughtfully tapped the pornographic prints against his thumbnail, remembering Gayla's tearful account of a john who got his highs with a camera. A rage inside him was being stoked, but Rhoda didn't know that.

She lay back against the pillows in one of the indolent poses captured on film. "Which one do you like best?"

"I couldn't begin to choose."

"What's the matter? Jealous?"

"Pea green with it."

She frowned.
"You
don't seem very excited over the pictures."

"Oh, I am, I am." He bent over her and took both her hands. "Put one hand here," he said, placing it on her breast. "And the other one here, just like in the picture." He laid her hand between her splayed thighs. "And before you know it, you won't even miss me."