Time After Time (18 page)

"You see me as a narrow-minded bigot?"

"I see you as an individual who, for reasons of her own, prefers not to look beneath the surface. You shelve people in convenient cubbyholes and hold yourself separate from them. You don't want to know about their emotions."

"Nice," she said tightly, resenting his easy assessment of her personality. "And how did you reach those charming conclusions?"

"I recognize those traits because I do the same thing myself." He shrugged. "It's easier... neater. And certainly less unsettling."

She looked away from him, staring at the passing terrain. Not that there was anything out there that she wanted to see, she thought moodily. Once she thought she caught a glimpse of a yucca plant, but it was soon hidden by rock.

She didn't want to look at the scenery. She also didn't want to think about what he had said, but it seemed she had no choice. Leah might resent his reading of her character, but the fact was, he had hit the nail squarely on the head. She did hold herself separate. She hated the thought of being vulnerable. If she didn't let anyone get a foot in the door, they couldn't push the buttons that caused pain.

He said they were alike, but she couldn't accept that. She couldn't believe he had ever been vulnerable, not even where his wife was concerned. She had met Diane Gregory a couple of times. Leah remembered her as a beautiful but ordinary woman. It wasn't difficult for her to imagine that Paul had felt loss at her death, but she knew, almost as though she had looked inside him, that he had never let anyone, not even his wife, touch the deepest part of him.

And no one ever would, she thought with a flash of inescapable intuition. He would never allow anyone to get close tb him. That was the knowledge that had

been lurking in the background since the moment Leah realized she loved him.

Setting her jaw, she finally looked at the facts. This trip had been exactly the right move. She would prove to herself once and for all that she would never have access to the sensitive loving man she had seen in her dreams.

At that moment the Jeep topped a rise and stopped. After setting the emergency brake, Paul rested his forearms on the steering wheel. Just below them, built on a cliff that overlooked the entire world, was a house.

It didn't stand in contrast to the land—it was a part of it. Made of brown rock, weathered brown wood and huge expanses- of glass, the house looked as though it had risen of its own volition out of the solid rock on which it was built. It seemed a natural extension of nature, but a less harsh, less hostile extension.

Here, out in the middle of a landscape only Salvador Dali could love, was a place that welcomed.

For a long time they were silent; then he turned and met her gaze, a question in his eyes.

"Indoor plumbing," she said in a bland voice.

He laughed softly, sounding pleased, as though something of what she was feeling showed in her face. "Among other things," he said.

Releasing the brake, he let the Jeep drop down the other side of the rise and seconds later pulled to a stop at the front door. Leah opened the door, quickly stepping from the car, and stood surveying the house, taking in the details she had missed at a distance.

"Go on inside and look around while I turn on the generator," he said from directly behind her. "The door isn't locked... no one ever comes here." He glanced at her expectantly, as though waiting for a caustic remark.

"No comment," she said, then grinned and moved toward the entrance.

The front door opened onto an all-in-one living space. It was a high-ceilinged room that seemed to be mostly glass. The wall at one end of the lounge area contained an enormous fireplace made of the same brown rock as the outside of the house. The furniture was shapeless, echoing the colors of the landscape, but touches of navy blue were splashed about the living area, and predominated in the efficient-looking kitchen and small dining area.

Just as the rooms were open to each other, so were they all open to the outdoors. Not a single curtain blocked the view. There was no need for curtains, she told herself ruefully. The only Peeping Toms in this part of the world were probably lizards and bugs.

She heard the soft hum of air conditioning seconds before Paul stepped into the room behind her. He set the bags on the floor and glanced around.

"What do you think?"

"I would be awfully picky if I didn't think it was absolutely perfect. It has a natural feel to it." She waved a hand at the glass walls. "I like those. This way I can get used to the landscape at a comfortable distance."

He chuckled. "Does that mean you're not pining for the resort condo?"

"I never pine," she said, giving him a haughty look. "Since you didn't say a word about where we were going, I was understandably shocked by the scenery. It was like waking up in Two Million, B.C." She walked to the fireplace to touch the cool, rough surface. "I'm sure I'll come to love... um... rocks and dirt."

He tilted his head to the side, a quizzical smile curving his lips. "You're amazing. How could we have worked together for so long without my seeing your sense of humor?"

Leah stared at him. She was still a little stunned by how attractive he was when he smiled. How could they have worked together for so long without her groveling at his feet for attention?

Down girl, she said to herself, breathing deeply to steady her hectic pulse. She shook her head slightly, then stooped to pick up her bags. "Where should I put these?"

He indicated a door at the back of the living area. "That's your bedroom. Why don't you check it out while I bring in the supplies?"

The bedroom was a small blue-and-rust oasis. It had solid walls on three sides, but the rear wall was glass, again with no curtains. The furniture was plain and old and solid... and just exactly right.

She placed her bags on the floor beside the bed, deciding to leave unpacking for later. Finally, after a long, tense morning, Leah was beginning to relax. It

was almost as though the house was smiling, urging her to accept and enjoy.

When she returned to the lounge she spotted a box that Paul had placed on the kitchen counter. She crossed the room and began to pull out supplies, opening cabinets to find the right place for everything. Suddenly something she hadn't noticed before caught her eye.

A glass door opened off the kitchen onto a large wooden deck. She slid the door to the side and stepped out; then a small sound of astonishment escaped her. The deck hung right out over the edge of the cliff.

She stood perfectly still, looking out over the barren desert that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was occasionally broken by rocks and decorated by the odd spiny plant and creosote bush.

She heard Paul in the kitchen, but she kept her gaze on the distant view. Moments later he stood beside her.

"Uncle," she said softly.

"Uncle?"

"I give," she explained with a shrug. "I can feel myself actually admiring this place... and that scares the heck out of me. This is not my kind of territory at all. But—'' she wavedahandtowardthedistance''—you can't look at that without feeling something. It made me feel small, but at the same time powerful...if that makes sense."

"It makes perfect sense. I feel that way every time I come here. But it's more than that. This place reminds me that I'm a part of it all... of the earth, of nature. Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that

when I'm stuck in Dallas in a concrete tower. That's why I always come back."

As she listened to him, Leah felt a strange, shivery feeling in the pit of her stomach. This man, not Mr. Gregory but the man who was standing beside her now, could get to her. He could sneak right under her defenses if she let him.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he shrugged off the mood and things were normal again. Leah felt relief, but on a deeper level she also felt regret.

After they had eaten lunch the two of them worked together to clear away the sandy dust that had accumulated since his last visit. It was a welcome period of uncomplicated companionship that lasted for the rest of the day. That evening he grilled steaks for dinner, and they took them inside to escape the insects, eating at the small table next to the windows.

Paul kept his eyes on Leah's face as they ate. This whole scene was nice and comfortable, but it wasn't getting them anywhere, he told himself with a frown. Apparently she didn't feel the same impatience that was setting his teeth on edge. No, he thought, if she felt the way he did, they wouldn't be in the dining room making polite conversation. They would be in the bedroom making love.

"Do your parents live in Dallas?" he asked as he refilled her wineglass.

She shook her head. "They moved to Ohio six years ago to be near my father's sister."

' 'And the rest of your family? Or are you an only child?"

"I have one brother—John. He's four years younger and lives in San Francisco."

"San Francisco? Is that the reason you're so hot for the promotion?"

She laughed. "I'd want that promotion if I had to move to Yugoslavia, but John's being there makes it nicer."

For the next few minutes there was only the sound of silverware clinking against the pottery plates. Then he said, "Your turn."

She looked up in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"We're supposed to be getting to know each other," he explained patiently. "I've asked three questions; now it's your turn."

"What's your sign?" When he gave her a dark look, she grinned. Studying him thoughtfully, she said, "You have no brothers or sisters... and you were criminally spoiled as a child."

He quirked one dark brow. "Have you checked up on me, or are you just guessing?"

"Just guessing," she admitted. "You're uncompromising, which means you had no close siblings, and since you usually manage to get whatever you want, I assume it's a long-standing habit." She paused. "Was I close?"

"I am an only child... and yes, I guess you could say I was spoiled. I can never remember my parents denying me anything I asked for," he said, smiling ruefully. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to be insulted."

"You were painfully honest in your evaluation of my character earlier; I thought I would return the favor. Wait," she continued before he could comment, "I still have three questions coming."

He leaned back in the navy-blue, padded chair, holding a sturdy wineglass in one equally sturdy hand. "I'm not going anywhere. Fire away."

He looked too complacent. Leah felt an irresistible urge to shake him up. "Do you sleep in the nude?" she asked.

He choked on his wine. Several seconds later he said, "You can stop beating me on the back; I'm fine." He surveyed her dancing eyes as she resumed her seat. "You should be boiled in oil for that." He leaned closer. "Besides," he said, his voice low and husky, "you know very well that I sleep in the bottom half of my pajamas."

She had left herself open for that one, she thought ruefully. She wouldn't, however, let him intimidate her. "Dark green silk, if I remember right," she said, her voice perfectly calm. "Okay, next question. Do
your
parents live in the Dallas area?"

"My father is dead; my mother remarried and now lives in Detroit," he answered easily.

"Do you get along with your stepfather?"

He looked puzzled for a moment. "You mean Gerald?" he asked. "I guess he is my stepfather, isn't he?"

"Well, what did you think he was?"

"I don't believe I've ever thought about it one way or the other."

"I'll take that to mean you're not particularly close," she said dryly.

It was yet another example of what she had suspected all along. He was close to no one. If only she could decide whether his emotional isolation was something he actively sought, or if it was simply a part of the character he had been born with.

"What about your father?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to study him. "Were you close? Are you very much like him?"

Paul frowned. How could he answer that? To Leah, Paul probably did resemble his father. Because Paul Harrison Gregory, Senior, had been the most coldblooded bastard his son had ever laid eyes on. But the resemblance was only a superficial one. Paul's coldness was a shield he had built early in his life. It was a means of protection. His father's coldness had been a character flaw. He had been born with something vital missing. And everyone he touched paid for that defect.

Glancing up, he caught Leah watching him closely. Shaking away the black mood, he smiled. "You're overdrawn. That was your fifth question," he said as he stood and walked to the refrigerator.

Leah stared at his back in frustration. Just when she thought they were getting somewhere, he closed up again. She had been crazy to think for one minute that she could figure out the way his mind worked.

When he turned around, she gasped in surprise. In his hands he held the most elaborate strawberry shortcake she had even seen.

"Where on earth did that come from?" she asked, her eyes wide. "And don't try to tell me you whipped it up when I wasn't looking."

"I had my housekeeper make it while you were packing this morning." He studied it for a moment. "It survived the trip reasonably well."