Time After Time (21 page)

Paul lay on his stomach, resting his head on his folded arms as he studied the clean, smooth lines of her profile. There was a strange feeling of singularity about today, the same subtle impression of sensual innocence that must have existed in the Garden of Eden. They could have been the first man and the first woman, before the cares of the world made them ordinary.

After the scene on the balcony the night before, he had decided he couldn't wait any longer. He would have to take things into his own hands and forcibly bring about a closer relationship between them. That was what today had been all about. In this setting and under these circumstances, the stiffness of their past association had to slip away. Here they were just a man and a woman.

Leah, he thought, smiling slightly. Woman of iron. When he had recognized the gritty determination in her face as she pulled herself up the cliff an inch at a time, he'd thought his heart would burst from sheer pride. A woman in a million. Soon to be his woman in a million.

"That blouse will never be the same," he said, running his gaze over the torn, stained garment.

"Ask me if I care." When she stretched her arms over her head in a slow, lazy movement, her fingers

brushed against a fern. "I can't get over this place. It's like something out of a fairy tale."

He sat up, folding his legs Indian-style. "The waterfall is only here because it rained last night," he explained. "That's why we had to come today. The big basin is deep enough to keep water in it during the dry spells, but the little ones dry up fast."

"So the plants are here all the time? I'm glad." She turned her head toward the fern. "What is this?"

"Maidenhair fern. Behind you is a columbine. And this is creeping thyme." He broke off a leaf and handed it to her. "Grush it between your fingers to release the oil."

She looked up at him. "You're rich. If you didn't have a nickel, all this would make you rich. It's got to be the most beautiful place in the world."

Tilting his head back, he stared at the wide expanse of sky. "Put this place in a park in Dallas and you wouldn't even notice it. It's special for two reasons. The first is that it's here against all reason. You go along thinking rocks and cactus are normal and fitting; then this happens, and it's almost a shock to the system—a piece of beautiful unreality."

Leah's brow creased in thought as she studied his somber face. She sensed somehow that he wasn't only talking about the water hole.

"And the second reason?" she asked softly.

He glanced down at her and gave a slow, teasing smile. "The second reason it's so special is that we had to work so hard to reach it. The best things don't come to you without a struggle."

"You know," she said, her voice thoughtful as she rose to her knees, "I'm learning not to trust that smile. What are you up to?"

He reached out to flick the tip of her nose with one finger. "The question is, what
are you
up to? Are you up to another climb?"

"More?" She glanced around. The sun was already dropping low on the horizon. "It's getting late. Hadn't we better start back now?"

"We've got time. I know a shortcut back."

For a moment she was silent, then she said slowly; "Do you mean you made me climb that mini Mount Everest when there's a shortcut?"

"Are you sorry?"

She relaxed her shoulders and smiled. "No," she said quietly. "No, I wouldn't trade the experience for anything." She rose to her feet. "Okay, my simple but trustworthy native guide, lead the way."

She followed behind him as they made the easy climb up the boulders beside the waterfall. Their destination, approximately thirty feet above the water hole, was a fifteen-foot-wide natural balcony that jutted out from the mountainside. Here was the source of the waterfall: a shallow basin overflowing with collected rain.

"Come over here," he said, keeping his voice low as he lay flat on his stomach at the edge of the rock balcony.

She stretched out beside him. After a moment she whispered, "What are we doing?"

"We're waiting."

Leah smiled. Yesterday she would have questioned him, or at least made a smart-mouthed comment. But this was today. And today was different. She was different. The man beside her was different.

Will the real Paul Gregory please stand up?
she thought whimsically. Which one was he—the rigid vice president of marketing, the vulnerable, gentle-hearted man of her dreams, or the strong, complicated being beside her now? Maybe he was all three.

"Look."

The word was only a whisper on the wind, but when it reached her, she followed his gaze to the oasis below. Animals were gathering to drink. Mice and birds, goats and deer, shared the watering place. She held her breath when a spotted cat crept close to the basin. The other animals didn't run, as she had expected. They continued to drink, but Leah could almost feel the watchful wariness in them.

She touched Paul's shoulder and mouthed the words "Mountain lion?"

His eyes flared with sudden humor. Turning slightly on his side, he held his hands several inches apart. "Bobcat," he whispered. Then he spread his hands several feet apart. "Mountain lion."

She gulped, glancing over her shoulder at the crevices behind them. When he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, she could feel him shaking with silent laughter.

Leah didn't mind. He could laugh at her forever, and she would still forgive him—because he had shown her this. It wasn't the same as watching ani-

mals in a zoo. She felt a kinship with the animals below, almost as though she could think what they thought and feel what they felt.

After a while Paul scooted back away from the edge, gesturing for her to follow. When his movements wouldn't disturb the animals, he stood and helped her to her feet.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" she said, still keeping her voice low as she smiled up at him. "You've given me some wonderful gifts today—it's like digging through a treasure box, pulling out one jewel after another."

"Are you ready for one last jewel?" he asked, gazing at something behind her.

Leah turned around and froze in her tracks.

The world was on fire.

Ordinary rocks were splashed with orange and red, bronze and gold. As far as the eye could see in any direction, the landscape was alive—majestically, spectacularly alive—with blinding color.

It was the climax of Tchaikovsky's
1812 Overture.
It was the Vienna Boys' Choir singing
TeDeum.
It was a John Donne devotion.

Slowly she turned to face him. "This is it, isn't it? This is the place that looks like the day the earth was born, the place that feels like forever."

He didn't answer. As his gaze drifted over her face, he raised a hand to her cheek, his long fingers splayed, his palm cupping her chin. "You've turned to gold," he whispered huskily. "Golden hair, golden eyes. I

could be struck blind tomorrow and still see your eyes."

His hand tensed slightly on her face, then he dropped it to his side and looked away from her. "This area is one of the few places where geologic processes are so clearly shown that even an untrained person can understand them." His voice was matter-of-fact as he gestured outward toward the rugged terrain. "Those rocks reveal the history of the earth for the past one-hundred million years. Not quite forever, but almost." He paused. "We'd better start back now."

The swiftness of the change in his mood confused her. She felt as if she were being bounced around like a rubber ball. What kind of game was he playing now? One minute he seemed to be showing her something of the man behind the mask; the next he slammed a door shut between them.

As they followed a gradually sloping trail downward, she told herself that she had no right to expect anything else from him. He had never promised her a soul mate. The only purpose of their trip had been for her to loosen up around him. For her to see him as a man, rather than her boss.

It was logical, but all the logic in the world wouldn't wipe out the memory of the way she had reacted to him back there. He had no right to manipulate her emotions that way.

"We'll have to climb down now." He had stopped a few feet in front of her. "About fifteen feet below here there's another ledge that will take us the rest of the way down. Since descending is a little trickier than

ascending, I'll go first and give you directions to the footholds." He stared down at her, frowning. "Do you think you can manage it? "

She stiffened when she caught the doubt in his tone. "Of course I can manage it." She glanced at the sky. "What about you? Are you sure you can see the footholds? There isn't much light left."

"I know every inch of this place," he said, his voice abrupt. "Just do what I tell you and we won't have any problems."

Arrogant bastard, she thought as she watched him begin the climb down. "Now you," he called from just below her. "That's right. Two feet to the left you'll find a small cleft in the rock."

She moved slowly downward under his steady stream of directions. Going down wasn't as tiring as going up, but it gave her a terrible feeling of insecurity. She didn't like not being able to see where she was going.

"Eighteen inches directly below your right foot there's a protruding rock." He made an impatient sound. "You're swinging to the left—I said directly below."

She glanced down. "Wait," she said. "I see a place." She moved her foot farther to the left.

"No, don't—"

But his warning was too late. The rock crumbled and disappeared from beneath her foot. Looking down had thrown her off balance, and the abrupt movement jerked her hands loose from their hold on the cliff. In a futile effort she grabbed at the rock as

she began a rapid descent. Seconds later she hit the narrow ledge below with enough force to bounce her sideways. And over the edge.

This time her frantic fingers found something solid—the branch of a small bush. She felt a thorn pierce her palm, but she didn't have time to feel the pain, and even if she had, she couldn't let go. There was still a twenty-five-foot drop below her.

When she heard a sliding noise above her, she glanced up. He was there, grasping her wrists, pulling her up to the narrow ledge. She leaned against him, her breathing rough and shaky.

After a while the paralyzing fear began to recede, and she realized he was holding himself so tense that his flesh felt like steel beneath her fingers. She pulled away to look up at him, catching a glimpse of some strange, indefinable emotion before he shut his eyes. When he opened them again they were blazing with fury.

He dug hard fingers into her shoulders. "I told you to follow my directions." The words were thick and sluggish as though they were being forced out of him. "If you had simply done what I told you, this wouldn't have happened."

Leah stared in amazement. She had never seen him so angry. The fiery temper he showed at the office was nothing compared to this. He was trembling with the intensity of it. Suddenly he gave her one hard shake that snapped her head back.

"Don't you ever—"

"Stop it!" She jerked away from him and scooted backward. "No one treats me like that," she said hoarsely. "No one. I've spent a lot of years getting to a place—an emotional level—where no one can treat me like that."

She glared at him in bitter anger, her fists clenched, and the words wouldn't stop. "I didn't follow your directions because I don't depend completely on
anyone.
I take care of myself. If I want to do something stupid, that's my business. I make good decisions and I make bad decisions, but they're all
my
decisions. I am not a meek, obedient female, and I refuse to pretend I am." She stopped to drag air into her lungs. "If you can't accept that, then
stay out of my way."

Long seconds passed, and the silence stretched out between them. Paul was staring at her as though she had sprouted another head.

Leah closed her eyes and leaned back against the rock. He had a perfect right to look at her like that, she thought wearily. She had overreacted—something she seemed to be doing a lot lately. Even as she had said the words, she knew they were stronger and harsher than the situation had warranted. She also understood why.

For just one moment, under the blazing sunset, Leah had wanted to beg. She had wanted to say she would do whatever he wanted and be whatever he wanted if he would just love her. And that knowledge made her sick to her stomach.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked quietly.

She nodded and slowly pulled herself to her feet.

An hour later she sat on the side of the bed in the small bedroom. She had bathed and tended her wounds and changed into decent clothes. Now it was time to go into the living room. She couldn't stall for much longer. Sooner or later she would have to face him.

Later, she thought, as she walked into the lounge and found it empty. Walking through to the kitchen, she began to prepare dinner. After a few minutes he joined her. But he didn't speak. He simply moved around, setting the table, helping her with the food.

When they sat down to eat, "Pass the salt" and "Would you like a beer?" were the extent of the dinner conversation, but she could feel him watching her, and it was driving her crazy. After fifteen minutes he set his fork down with a thud and pushed back his chair.