Wildfire (11 page)

O
n Thursday afternoon when Rae passed through the outer office, the room was empty. Glenna was home nursing a summer cold, which meant no one was there to ask why Rae had stayed so long at the courthouse, and no one was there to notice that she had a most peculiar look in her eyes.

Four days had gone by since Rae had met Tanner at the roadside park, and during those days she had gone to his cabin twice. As though they had reached an unspoken agreement, neither mentioned the accidental meeting. The lessons simply went on as before. Tanner continued to bark out orders, and Rae continued to be torn between laughter and frustration in his presence.

And even while Rae acknowledged her newfound openness to life—the same openness that made it necessary for her to constantly fight against the sensual pull of this complex man—there were times that Rae wondered if she would ever be the woman he was trying to turn her into.

But today, in the span of a few short minutes, everything had changed.

When she walked into her own office, she shut the door and leaned back against it. A moment later she gave her head a bemused little shake and laughed aloud.

"Gonna let me in on the joke?"

The high-backed chair behind her desk swung around. Tanner was slouched down in the chair, his dark eyes fixed on her with interest.

"You look like you just won the lottery," he said. "Or a big case. Don't tell me the electric company is going to settle with Seraphina Rodale."

Rae pushed away from the door and crossed the room. Placing both hands flat on the desk, she leaned toward him. "Right here," she said slowly, "right here in front of me, wearing dusty boots, indecent jeans, and ... do you own a shirt that doesn't have half the buttons missing? Right here, sits a genius."

She drew in a calming breath and kept her eyes level with his. "There have been times in the past two years when I've wanted to strangle you. And there have been times that I've wished you to perdition.

But know this about me: I am no shirker of facts. Rae Anderson does not dodge the truth. And this is the inescapable, unvarnished truth. You, Tanner West, desperado par excellence, Dicton's most celebrated bad boy, are a true genius. If I were wearing a hat, I would take it off to you. Since I'm not, I'll do the next-best thing." She extended her right hand across the desk. "I'll shake the hand of the man who worked a miracle."

After eyeing her hand for a moment, he raised his dark gaze to her face. "Is Petey DuPuy back in town?"

Swinging away from the desk, she threw back her head and laughed. "I'm not drunk, at least not the way you think."

With an abrupt movement she straightened her features and glanced back over her shoulder, giving him an intentionally provocative look. "Don't you know? Can't you tell? You're an astute man, Tanner. And you probably know more about women than all the other men in this county put together."

She moved around the desk and stood slightly behind him, bending down to let her lips brush across his ear. "Put all your senses to work on the problem, sweetness," she said in a husky whisper. "Go with your instincts. Listen to your inner substance. What's it saying to you, Tanner?"

He grabbed her hands and pulled her around so

he could see her face. "It's telling me your gears are sticking."

She laughed again and slipped out of his grasp. On the other side of the desk she turned to face him. "Wrong. I'll tell you what it's saying. It's saying this woman"—she jabbed her chest with one finger—"is hot. Not mild. Not sunny. Not balmy or temperate or clement. Not even normal for this time of the year with a warm front moving in. This woman is capital H-O-T, hot."

She licked her thumb and applied it to her hip with a hissing sound. "Sizzling," she said, giving the word three slow syllables, her lips pouting.

Tanner's head was drawn back, his eyes narrowed as he watched her. "I don't know," he muttered, "I might have to vote for balmy. What's going on?"

She shook her head in reproach. "Modesty doesn't become you. Don't you get it? It worked. You said you would show me how to attract a man, and that is just exactly what you did."

She dropped down in the chair opposite him, trying to catch her breath. "I ran into Drew a little while ago and—This is where I pause for effect." She paused for effect. "I ran into Drew at the courthouse, and we started talking ... I didn't even have to do die laugh-touch-look thing. We just started talking, and, I don't know, I could tell he was looking at me in a completely different way. I can't describe it, but it was different." A soft laugh of disbelief escaped her. "And we have a date for tomorrow night. Dinner and dancing."

Pulling herself up straighter, she shot a look at him. "You'll be interested in this part. I a'sked him about Lynda, and he said she flew to New York this morning, but he assumed she'd be back because she left all her things at the ranch. He assumed... as though he didn't much care one way or the other. He really seems to—"

She broke off, suddenly aware of Tanner's reaction, or rather, his lack of reaction. "Why are you so quiet? Why aren't you celebrating with me? Let's hear some huzzahs and hip-hip-hoorays. When Lynda comes back, you can step in, just the way we planned. The unholy alliance worked. We did it."

He rubbed his chin, his gaze turned away from her, his expression thoughtful. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" she asked with growing belligerence. "Drew asked me out. He noticed me, Tanner."

"Not bad," he allowed with a nod. "At least, it's not bad for a start, but what happens if you go out tomorrow night and suddenly turn into Miss Wholesome? It's not like we've wiped out all traces of her, you know. I can still hear echoes of 'Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee' when you forget yourself."

"But—"

"Look, I'm not trying to take anything away from you. You've made a hell of a lot of progress. If Drew is looking at you in a different way, it's because he sees a different woman. The changes are subtle, so you may not have noticed them, but they're definitely there. In the way you move, the way you hold yourself, the way you've opened yourself up to the world around you."

He gave a nod in her direction. "Look at what you're doing right now. You're moving your fingers on the arms of the chair, feeling the texture. And you weren't even aware of it. Your senses are on the alert all the time now." He let his gaze drift over her body. "Of course, wearing all that silk next to your skin hasn't hurt anything."

She felt her face flood with heat as she became intensely conscious of the red silk bra and panties.

He gave a low chuckle. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't peek through your window, and I didn't ask Paula. I can just tell. The point is, it's not enough. Everything we've done so far was to get his attention. Now we have to work on keeping it."

He stood up and moved from behind the desk. "Trust me on this one, Rae. We're not through yet. Come out to the cabin tonight, and we'll do a little rehearsal dinner."

She turned her head, following his progress to the door. "You're cooking?"

"I can cook. I can do anything I want when I put my mind to it." Then, just before he walked out, he added, "It's a good thing to remember about me."

❧

Tanner had covered his small kitchen table with a white tablecloth, and a single candle was the only illumination in the room. Because, he told her, that's the kind of snotty little place Drew would take her to.

Sitting at the table, she watched while he occupied himself with something on the stove. "How can you see what you're doing?" When he didn't answer, she shifted restlessly in her chair. "I really don't understand why this is necessary. I know how to keep up my end of a dinner conversation, and I don't think Drew's going to be disgusted with my table manners."

"This isn't about social chitchat and etiquette. It's about maintaining a sexual attraction while you're doing ordinary things. Just because you've got him interested doesn't mean you can relax and be yourself."

Frowning, she rested her chin in the palm of one hand. "Will I ever be able to do that? Be myself, I mean."

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Sure. But we're not through with the two-by-four yet. You have to use sex appeal to get him to stay long enough to want to know the real you."

When he moved closer to put a plate in front of her, she looked up at him. "I know this was my idea, but sometimes it feels dishonest. Like I'm setting traps."

"It's not dishonest. In fact, there's nothing more honest. Watch the birds sometimes, check out the rituals they go uhrough at mating time." He sat in the chair opposite her. "We're talking about nature, sweetness."

"Yes, I guess so," she said, still doubtful. "But— Wait a minute, I recognize this." She glanced from her plate to his face, her tone accusing. "You didn't cook. You got this from1 Joe Baker's Little Italy. It's the only place in America that serves pasta with a jalapeno garnish."

"I said I can cook. I didn't say I was going to." He reached across the table and filled her glass from a bottle of red wine. "Okay, here's the program. We're going to get a sexy little conversation going while we eat. This is going to be tough because of the wray your brain works. All that honest, forthright stuff keeps dragging you down. But tomorrow night I want you to point your mind in a different direction. I want you to twist the meaning of everything he says, turn it into something provocative. Double entendre the poor sucker into submission. If he says the dinner rolls are hard, you give him a look and tell him hard is your favorite thing."

He grinned at her reaction. "Stop gagging. It's just another whack from the two-by-four."

Although Joe's lasagna was, as always, excellent, and Tanner did his best to set the mood, Rae couldn't take the practice conversation seriously, and more often than not, her replies sent them both into whoops of laughter.

After one particularly outrageous innuendo, he covered his face with one hand and groaned. "You're hopeless, absolutely hopeless." Pushing his chair away from the table, he stood up. "Okay, enough of the snotty little restaurant, now it's time for some boot scootin'." "Boot scooting" was the local term for dancing. "Come on, Rae, get your little ass in gear."

"In gear for what? I don't need you to teach me how to dance, if that's what you're talking about. I can dance."

"No, you can't."

Her chin came up; her look was belligerent. "I can dance. I took lessons for six years. And then Johnny and I used to—"

"What?" he prompted. "Go to those schmoozy little clubs in Fort Worth and let your feet go mellow? This is Dicton, and there are a total of two places here to dance. You could go to the club at the Overnight Inn where a couple of jokers with hair down to their butts abuse electric guitars for the entertainment of a bunch of teenagers who are more interested in going to the bathroom to buy pills from some kid who emptied out his mother's medicine cabinet, or you can go to J. T.'s out on Highway 101 for some country dancing. Do you know anything about country dancing?"

She drew in a slow, irritable breath. "You know I don't."

"Right." He stooped to turn on the radio, twisting the dial until he found what he was looking for. "We'll keep it slow until you learn the steps. Watch me. Step, step, slide. Step, step, slide. Got it? Okay, let's go." i

Reaching out, he pushed one hand under her hair, cradling her neck firmly in his warm palm as he clasped her right hand in his left.

"Is Drew going to grab me by the neck?" she asked, acutely aware of the way his thumb was moving against the sensitive flesh behind her ear.

"Probably not, but this is the way I do it. It doesn't matter. The steps are the same. Put your hand on my hip."

Bossy bastard, she fumed silently. Raising her hand, she let it rest lightly on his waist.

With a short sound of exasperation, he took the hand and planted it firmly on his hip. "My hip, Rae, my hip. For Pete's sake, loosen up a little, you're not going to touch anything exciting right there."

Oh yeah? she thought as they began to move. Try telling that to my hand.

"You're not putting enough into it. When you step back, throw your shoulder in that direction." He shifted his hands to her shoulders and showed her how to move as they danced. "That's better. If you're gonna live in Dicton, you're gonna have to dance Dicton."

Reclaiming her neck, he swung her around, and they began to move in the opposite direction. "Out here, when we dance, we dance. It's not elegant, but by God, it's alive. Everything we have and are is in this music. Don't just listen to it, swallow it, inhale it. Hear that guitar trill? Move your hips with it. Can't you feel it bouncing around inside you?"

The fact that Tanner was a wonderful dancer shouldn't have surprised her and wouldn't have if she had once let herself think about the natural grace in his walk. Before she knew what was happening, she was caught up in the energetic, enthusiastic movements.

"Why do you hold my hand so high?"

"This." He let go of her neck and twirled her under his arm. "Twirling is also the cause of one of the biggest setbacks in the women's movement. No, really," he added, catching her skeptical glance. "You see women at the head of big corporations, you see them laying bricks, you even see them in the boxing ring. But when's the last time you saw one leading out on the dance floor? That's because most women are shorter than their dancing partner. She couldn't twirl him."

He paused, his dark devil's eyes sparkling. "The women's movement did all right by sex though. It improved the whole process of making love. Women can take the lead in the bedroom and—"

"I do not wish to discuss what the women's movement did for sex," she said, her voice repressive.

Although the unholy glitter lingered in his eyes, he let it go with nothing more than a laugh.

It was after trying to keep up with "Dumas Walker" that Rae finally had to take a break. When they returned to the table, she was out of breath and laughing from pure enjoyment.

"Okay, I admit it," she said. "You were right. I needed the dance lesson. Now where are we?"

"Still at J. T.'s. We're having a drink to cool off." He refilled her wineglass, then, leaning forward, met her eyes across the table. "Okay, pick up your glass, take a sip, and lick the wine off your lips while you're staring into my eyes."

"Oh please," she muttered under her breath. "I will not be able to do this. Not if my life depends on it. It's stupid and juvenile and corny, and no intelligent man would fall for it anyway."

"Shut up and do it," he ordered.

Rolling her eyes, she lifted her glass and took a sip, then ran her tongue over her upper lip. Raising her eyes to his, she saw that all his attention was now focused on her mouth. As they sat staring at each other, Rae could feel the heat rise in her face, but even more intense was the heat that settled in her lips where his glittering gaze stroked her.

"I wish you could see your eyes right now," he murmured. "Who'd have thought baby blue could ever look like that?"

Glancing away, she cleared her throat noisily. "Did I do it right?" The breathless tremor in her voice was barely noticeable. "I have never understood what this lip-licking thing is supposed to accomplish."

"You're such a whine-baby," he said with a low chuckle. "The lip-licking thing, which you've just demonstrated so effectively, will have him wondering what it would feel like to have that little pink tongue flicking across any and all of his naked body parts."

She choked. She coughed. Her heart jumped, and her hand shook. Then, in what somehow seemed an inevitable outcome, she spilled the wine.

For a long moment Rae simply stared down at the stain that was spreading across the front of her dress. Then she slowly raised her head. "Stop laughing. Tanner, I mean it. Tanner, dammit, stop laughing!"

"Good move, Rae," he said, his voice unsteady, his tone admiring. "I'd go for it in a minute. I really would. Woman marinated in red wine is one of my favorite things. But you might think twice about trying it on Drew."

"Just shut up. It wouldn't have happened if I had been with Drew.. He doesn't say things that get me flustered." She pulled the dress away from her breasts. "This is going to be a sticky mess when it starts to dry."

"No problem," he said, standing up. "Take it off, and I'll throw it in the washing machine."

"You have a washing machine?"

"What'd you think, I take all my stuff out and beat it on a rock?"

Rising to her feet, she followed him across the room. "If I had thought about it at all, which I guarantee you I have not, because I have better things to do than think about how you manage your household chores, I would have assumed that one of your women—"

He gave her a look that cut her off. "My women," he said with wicked gleam in his eyes, "are definitely not for laundry. Here, you can wear this while your things are washing."

She had followed him into a small room that appeared to be a combination clothes closet and utility room, and now he was handing her a short burgundy silk robe with lapels and wrap belt of midnight blue.

Rae recognized the soft tie belt. He had used it to teach her how to respond to the call of her senses.

"It was a gift," he explained when she stared down at the robe with one brow raised. "She didn't hang around long enough to get to know me, to find out I'm not the type to wear robes. The only time I ever put it on, I felt like a Noel Coward mutant."

The explanation was made in an offhand way, but the cynicism was back in his eyes, and, as always, it brought a sharp pang of compassion. No, not compassion, she amended silently, regret. She deeply regretted that Tanner had ever had to discover the things in life that now made him so bitter.

In the bathroom she stripped off her clothes, handed them to him through a carefully cracked door, then glanced around the room. The wine was already getting uncomfortably tacky. What she needed was a quick shower.

Although Tanner's bathroom was as impersonal as the rest of his house, it was a nice little room. Sage-green ceramic tile on the floor and halfway up the wall. White pedestal sink and matching toilet. Brightly lit mirror over the sink.

But nowhere, not in any direction, was there either a shower or a tub.

She moved back to the door. "Tanner? Tanner, where's the bathtub?"

"I don't have a bathtub," he yelled. "You'll have to use the shower."

She looked around again. "I hate to be the one to give you the bad news, but your shower's been stolen."

His laughter reached her clearly. "Open the door directly opposite you."

She had seen the door he was referring to but had assumed it was a linen closet. A second later, when she opened it, a warm breeze brushed across her face. Redwood floor. Canvas sides. Looking up, she saw stars.

"It's outside," she murmured; then, glancing over her shoulder, she raised her voice: "Tanner, your shower is outside."

"Don't be so ordinary," he called back. "You'll like it."

Muttering under her breath, she stepped onto the miniature redwood deck, closed the door behind her, and raised wary eyes to the outsized shower head. Industrial strength, the kind used on factory workers who have been exposed to radioactive material.

It figured. Everything about Tanner was emphatic. More. Bigger. Bolder. A rebellious departure from the customary.

With a grimace of anticipation, she turned on the water and stepped under it, then immediately sucked in a sharp breath as the water hit her bare flesh with stinging force.

It was amazing, she thought minutes later. Not only was she getting used to it, she was enjoying it. The miniature Niagara Falls, the cool of the night air, the stars shining overhead. Who would have thought a shower could be so exciting?

"Nice, isn't it?"

Rae must have jumped a foot, her gaze darting around in panic. "Where are you?"

"Right beside you."

Swinging around, she turned her back on the voice and crossed her arms on her breasts, grabbing her shoulders with both hands. "Go away."

He chuckled. "You're covering up, aren't you? You idiot, I can't see you. No X-ray vision . . . it's the only way you can tell me and Superman apart."

"I don't care," she muttered. Even if he couldn't see through the canvas, his presence was making her damned uncomfortable. "Go away."

"Forget about me. And forget all your silly little hang-ups. Look up, Rae. Is that the most spectacular thing you've ever seen in your life? All the way down through history, people have been looking up at that sky, fascinated by the sheer immensity of it."