Page 15 of Prime Time

“Did I wake you?” she said into the telephone receiver. The house had been quiet when she arrived back, though Gracie had left the promised coffee on the patio table. It went untouched. Glad that she didn’t have to face anyone, she had made her way upstairs without turning on any lights. She had bathed in the deep, claw-footed bathtub, hoping to wash away the memory of the hour she had spent with Lyon. It would take more than a bath to do that. Still feeling shame and anger, she had pulled on a robe and padded into the hallway to place her call to Les.

“Hell, no. I wish you had. I’m only about halfway to getting stinking drunk. And halfway doesn’t count.”

“What the matter? No date tonight?”

“My best girl’s out of town,” he grumbled. She laughed, knowing he wasn’t serious. “You just want to be mothered.”

“I could get to feeling downright oedipal about you, Andy Malone.” He sighed, and she could imagine him raking his hand through his bright hair. “I’ll be you’re down there whooping it up with all the cowboys.

She ignored his jibe. He had no idea how true it might have been. Lyon had kissed her with such tenderness, such passion. How could he have …? She gulped down a sob. “Then you’re not interested in knowing that I’m now in residence at the Ratliffs’ ranch house?”

“You’re wh—” There was a loud crash at the other end of the line, some blasphemous language, then Les’s voice, much sharper and clearer now. She had sobered him up. “I dropped the phone. You’re what? Living there? With the old man? Have you met him yet? What about the son?”

“One at a time, Les. Yes, at the general’s invitation I’m staying here. And so will the crew be. They’ve been of fered beds in the bunkhouse.”

“Godamighty. I knew you could pull it off, sweet thing.”

“General Ratliff is a perfect gentleman. He’s agreed to the interviews, though we have to be careful about tiring him. He’s extremely frail, Les.”

“But he’s said yes to the interviews?”

“Yes.”

“And the son?”

Had Les not been so excited by her news, he might have noticed the significant pause. “He’s less enthusiastic, but I don’t think he’ll interfere with us.”

“Great, fabulous, terrific. If I were there right now, I’d give you a kiss that’d ring your bells and make your toes curl.”

She trembled. She’d already had one kiss that had done that tonight. It had been the first kiss in her life that had affected her that intensely. She had been totally involved in Lyon, his mouth, his taste, his smell, his touch, the alignment of his body against hers. She and Robert had been an affectionate couple, at first, but …

“Andy baby, are you still there?”

“Y—yes.”

“Well, tell me all about it, doll.”

“The general’s very friendly, grandfatherly, or great grandfatherly. He said I could ask him about anything except specific battles. His—”

“Whoa, whoa, go back. What was that about specific et cetera?”

“He said he wouldn’t answer questions pertaining to specific battles, only to the war as a whole.”

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

“Why?”

“Have you ever heard of a military man, especially a general, who didn’t want to tell war stories? Do you think the old codger has something to hide?”

Not only his suspicion, but his unflattering term for Michael Ratliff irritated her. “No,” she said flatly. “I don’t think so. I read through piles of newspapers clippings today, dated from early in his career to the day he retired. There was never even the hint of a scandal of any kind.”

“Well, it bears thinking about.”

She wouldn’t think about it at all. If there were something unsavory in General Ratliff’s past, she didn’t want to know about it. “I scouted through the house today, which is lovely and will give us some great background shots. We’ll confine the interviews to the rooms the general feels most comfortable in. And I want to do some outside shooting. Tell Gil to bring along some kind of mike sock that will filter out the roar of water.”

“Water? What in the hell, Andy?”

“A river.”

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