Page 18 of Prime Time

The patio and pool area were deserted when she stepped through the glass door. The morning smelled fresh and felt cool. Clouds were shading the sun and a gentle southern breeze was stirring the leaves of the trees. Standing very still and listening, she could hear the gurgling of the river.

“Good morning.”

She jumped and spun around. She had been so intent on the beauty of her surroundings that she hadn’t heard him come up behind her. “Good morning.” He was wearing fragrance, too. That same brisk, clean scent she was coming to associate with him.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” He turned his back on her and walked stiffly toward a parked Jeep she hadn’t noticed until now. It was without doors. There was no top over it, only a roll bar, and the seats looked as though the Jeep had been driven over many a dusty trail. Lyon slumped into the driver’s seat, and she climbed into the passenger side. She barely had time to get a good handhold before he accelerated and the Jeep lurched forward. He had a lot to learn about the subtleties of good driving.

“Sleep okay?”

“Yes,” she lied, for the second time that morning. She didn’t want to see the sinewy strength of his arm as he shoved the gearshift into higher gear. His legs worked the pedals of the vehicle with a flexing of thigh muscles that was awesome. She diverted her eyes from his lap, the sight of which made a tumbling team of her vital organs.

His hands gripped the steering wheel hard. There was an aspect of controlled violence about him this morning. Every thread of his clothing seemed strained to contain the tension just under his skin.

She studied his face beneath the brim of his straw cowboy hat. The lines of his jaw were as hard as iron. When he blinked, it was more than nature’s way of moistening his eyes. It was reflex of anger, as though he were trying to clear his vision that had been clouded with rage.

He seemed disinclined to talk as he concentrated on keeping the bouncing Jeep on the uneven trail. Andy turned away from him and studied the landscape. She’d be damned if she’d force her company on him. After the disgraceful thing he had done the evening before, he should be thankful she’d speak to him at all. If he held her in such contempt, why had he suggested this outing?

Damn her! Lyon thought. All ten fingers extended as the palms of his hands rested on the wheel. He stretched them out as far as they would go, then curled them around the steering wheel in so tight a grip, they ached.

If she had to be who she was, why did she have to look like she did? If she wanted to move in a man’s world, why didn’t she dress the part? Why did she wear clothes like that shirt-thing she had on now that molded to each soft curve of her breast? And pants that hugged her bottom? And why were her feet bare in sandals so skimpy that he marveled over how she kept them on her feet. Her toe-nails were polished with a delicate shade of coral. Like the color only found inside a seashell …

Hell! he cursed. Would you listen to yourself, Ratliff? Seashells!

God.

So she’s a great-looking broad. So? Do you have to act as imbecilic as an adolescent? You’ve been with good-looking women before, some even more beautiful than this one. But there’s something about …

Her eyes? Unusual color, yes, but … No, it’s the way she looks at you when you’re talking to her. It’s as if what you’re saying is of vital importance to her. She’s interested. She wants to know. Your opinion matters to her.

Easy, Ratliff. Don’t be too taken in by that. Isn’t that what she’s supposed to make you feel? Isn’t that her job? The secret of being a good interviewer is the ability to listen.

Okay, so her eyes are pretty and she uses them to full advantage. You still know that she lies with that luscious mouth. If not with words, then certainly with kisses. Face it, buddy, a kiss hasn’t meant that much to you in a long time. Some women fake passion, hoping to get to your checkbook. Most respond out of conditioned reflex because they know it’ll please you if they do. But Andy … hell, yes, go ahead and think her name. Andy. Andy. Her passion hadn’t been faked. She needed that kiss as badly as you did. She wanted it.

She’d known how to give and how to take. You felt desire rocketing through you until you were ready to explode. It scared you, and you swore that you wouldn’t have anything more to do with her. And then the first thing you do this morning is arrange to see her alone.

She’s poison, dammit. So why are you watching her out of the corner of your eye, Ratliff? Why are you looking at her hand that’s gripping the edge of her seat with every bump. Are you hoping that since it’s so close to your thigh that she’ll …

Lyon jerked his thoughts back from where they were wandering and braked the Jeep suddenly. Inertia propelled them forward until they fell back against the seats. Andy looked over the bluff. The scenery was beautiful. They had climbed into the hills and were now gazing down at the valley. The house looked like a toy far beneath them, nestled in the grove beside the river.

She wished he’d say something. Was he waiting for her to speak? She turned her head slightly to look at him. He was staring over the hood of the Jeep. “It’s beautiful up here,” she said tentatively.

He pushed the cowboy hat back far on his head and without moving his body, swiveled his head around to stab her with his eyes. “Who is Les?”

It wasn’t so much the question itself as the way he asked it that made her feel like she’d been punched in the stomach. She suffered all the symptoms of having sustained a stunning blow and having the breath knocked out of her. She sucked air greedily. “He’s my boss.”

“How convenient.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you carry on in the office or do you wait until work is done for the day? Does he know you were out in the woods last night letting another man kiss and fondle you, or would he care? Maybe it’s one of those ‘open’ relationships.”

Her cheeks flamed crimson, first at his allusion to last night and then with anger. “There is no relationship other than friendship.”

“Don’t lie to me, dammit. I heard you. ‘I know you love me, and I love you, too.’ ”

“You eavesdropped!?”

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