Читать книгу Solitaire - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 7

Chapter Three

Well, Cathy, you’re certainly going to be in good hands.” Dr. Scott smiled as he looked through the release forms, while Cat sat patiently on the edge of the bed. With the help of one of the nurses, she had awkwardly pulled on a pair of cinnamon-colored slacks and a white tank top. Maine’s summer weather was usually on the cool side, but at eight o’clock this bright August morning, it was already a sunny seventy degrees.

“We’ll see about that, doctor,” she told him dryly. Cat automatically touched her tightly taped ribs. Two of the lowest had been broken and if the break had been any higher, her breasts would have prevented the elastic torso wrap from being applied.

“Mr. Donovan’s a paramedic, you know,” the physician said, hurriedly scribbling his signature on the last paper.

“Is he?” Cat looked up with interest.

“Yes, a very capable one. I’ve given him a list of all the prescriptions you might need, Cathy. He’s going to be watching you rather closely for the next couple of weeks because of your head injury. Let him know if you ever get dizzy.”

Dizzy? The first time she’d sat up, she’d nearly keeled over. If it hadn’t been for Slade’s quick action, she would have fallen off the bed. At first, Cat had retreated from his watchfulness; she was unused to being confined by an ailing body and resented being taken care of. But after three days, Slade had remained his cheerful, positive self and Cat had had to beg him not to tell any more jokes. She had feared she would laugh out loud, and that awful, ripping pain would take her breath away. Slade’s normally ebullient personality had sobered slightly, then shifted into a new gear–that of charming conversationalist.

A nurse arrived with the wheelchair for Cat’s ride to the front doors of the hospital. “The dizziness may or may not be permanent,” Dr. Scott warned, helping her into the chair. “The next two weeks will tell us quite a lot. Off you go, now. I understand you’ve an air trip ahead. Mr. Donovan’s quite a good pilot.”

Cat couldn’t resist a smile. “Did he tell you that?”

“No, I saw his flight logbook sitting with some other items. Being a pilot myself, I got him talking. He’s not only multiengine rated, he’s up on all the instrumentation demands, too. Judging from the hours he’s flown, I’ll lay you odds he flies around the world. He certainly has a lot of stories to tell.”

“Slade Donovan is a born storyteller, I suspect. Thank you, doctor, for everything.”

“Have a good flight, Cathy. We’ll be eager to hear how you’re progressing.”

At the curbside outside the hospital, the nurse eased the wheelchair to a halt. Slade was waiting next to the rental car for her. He was dressed in a freshly pressed blue shirt with epaulets on each shoulder. The shirt matched the color of his eyes, Cat thought. She had to stop herself from staring as if she were a gawky teenager instead of a woman older than thirty. His hair was dark and shining from a recent shower, his skin smooth of the stubble that always gave him a five o’clock shadow by four o’clock.

As Cat took his large hand and stood up, she suddenly saw Slade in a new light. His touch, as always, sent a warm rush through her. He had brought sunshine to her during her recent exile to Hades. She closed her eyes, allowing a fleeting feeling of dizziness to pass. Slade, observing her hesitation, moved closer to her left side, in case she should fall. Cat opened her eyes and raised her face to the sun.

“Do you know how good it feels to be outside again?” she asked, drawing in a deep breath of fresh air.

“Spoken like a true tunneler,” Slade replied. His fingers tightened on her elbow. “Ready? I’ve got Maggie all fueled and waiting.”

“Maggie?” Cat looked up at Slade tentatively.

Slade helped her into the front seat of the rental car and then shut the door. “Yeah, Maggie’s my twin-engine Cessna. And she’s as pretty as her name.”

The sun shone warmly through the windows and a fragrant scent of pine drifted in, making the day magical for Cat. As Slade eased into the car, he flashed her a heart-stopping smile. “You’ll like Maggie. She’s built like a sleek greyhound. Red and white, lean and mean.”

“The way you like your women, Donovan?” Now why had she made that remark? He had looked absolutely elated, as if flying were going to release him from his captive state on earth. Cat felt like a genuine wet blanket, but Donovan cheerfully snapped the safety belt across his lap and chest.

“Jealousy will get you nowhere. Maggie’s big-hearted enough to embrace both of us. Now, young lady, we’ve got a light westerly wind and clear skies waiting for us. Ready?”

Yes, she was ready, Cat realized. Perhaps it was partly relief that they were putting miles between her and the mine that had almost claimed her life, but another part of her was ready for a new adventure. Cat closed her eyes, allowing the wind to flow across her, moving her hair languidly against her temple and neck. Slade’s hand settled momentarily on her own.

“Okay?”

The concern in his voice soothed her. “I’m fine. Just enjoying my freedom, Donovan.”

There was hurt evident in his voice. “My friends call me Slade.”

Cat opened her eyes and studied his clean profile, from his straight brows to his finely shaped nose and mobile mouth. “After all we’ve been through together, I guess friend is a good word to use for us.”

His hand left her fingers and he concentrated on his driving. Friend was only one term he applied to Cat. He also wanted to explore other possibilities. She affected him as no woman ever had before. “Friends,” Slade murmured. “That’s a good place for us to start.”

“I hope you have a lot of patience,” she warned, feeling suddenly awkward.

Slade pinned her with an intense look. “Why?”

“Because I’m not myself, Slade. I’m jumpy and I snap when I don’t mean to.”

He smiled. “Lady, I’ve been snapped at by the best of them. I regard our two-month vacation at my ranch as just one more adventure.”

“Normally I’d agree with you. But I’m afraid you’re getting the raw end of this deal, Slade. I’ll give you one more chance to back off from your offer to let me use your ranch as my hospital for two months.”

The road spilled out of the small town, a narrow gray asphalt ribbon among the pine-clad hills. “Not on your life, Cat. I like a woman who has wanderlust in her soul!”

A smile shadowed Cat’s mouth as she met Slade’s merry glance. “Folks like us have it in their blood, don’t we? What’s so surprising about finding someone like yourself?”

“You try so hard to hide what’s deep inside you, Cat Kincaid. I keep trying to figure out who closed you up like a book under lock and key. But I know you’re not like those rocks I hunt, without feeling.” He laughed, a deep, resonant laugh. “You’re like an elusive emerald: hard to find, dangerous to extract and fragile when being cut and polished into a gem.”

Cat felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “It’s the nature of my work that makes me quiet. You’re a geologist, you should know that.”

Slade knew, but he couldn’t resist teasing her. She responded so quickly to the slightest amount of goading. He really shouldn’t, because she was far from well and Dr. Scott had warned him about overtaxing Cat. “I know what you’re saying, Cat, but I like to see that green fire leap into your eyes. I’ll let you off the hook, though. Dr. Scott gave me a stern lecture about not picking on you…for now.”

Cat closed her eyes, resting comfortably despite the tightness of the rib wrap. “That’s big of you,” she parried. “I suppose I ought to count my lucky stars for the reprieve.”

“It’s going to be a short one,” he warned, shooting her a mischievous look.

Cat smiled. She knew he was baiting her again. He’s good for me, she suddenly realized. But if the big, arrogant Texan knew that, he’d gloat. “What kind of pilot are you?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I got my license at Disneyland. Does that impress you?”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat but she squelched it, trying to avoid the subsequent pain. “You’re so full of baloney. Come on, level with me.”

“And if I did, would it make any difference?”

“My level of comfort would increase markedly if I knew more of your nefarious credentials.” She suspected his credentials were far from nefarious, but enjoyed turning the tables on him for a change.

Slade appeared momentarily wounded. “Well, I have exactly 3,212 hours on my multiengine and I.F.R. ratings and have been qualified in twelve different aircraft during my short experience of flying.”

“My comfort level is increasing,” she admitted with a smile.

“Let’s see. What else? The pilot is thirty-five, six feet four inches tall, single, roguishly handsome, makes a decent living, doesn’t have any outstanding debts to speak of and currently is unattached.” He looked squarely at her. “How’s your comfort level now?”

“It just nosedived.”

“Oh.”

“I’d have felt better if you’d told me that you’ve flown around the world and are an excellent navigator.”

“Well, I’m that, too.”

“But for some reason, you thought your personal stats would be of more interest to me?”

“I don’t want you to worry that you’d be a third wheel at the Mourning Dove Ranch. You’re lucky–you’ll be the only woman there besides Pilar, my manager’s wife.”

“Somehow, I don’t quite know if that’s lucky or unlucky, Donovan.”

He grinned. “It’s definitely lucky, Ms. Kincaid. Wait and see.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Your choice. Which do you want it to be?”

“You’re impossible, Slade, certifiably impossible.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been told. But then, because of my impossible qualities, I did discover a couple of gem deposits over in Brazil.” His voice grew softer. “Ever heard of the El Camino Mine, Ms. Kincaid?”

Cat blinked. The El Camino Mine had been splashed across all the mining and geology magazines two years earlier. It was, according to most geologists, one of the finest tourmaline discoveries in the world. The quality of the precious stones was almost flawless, and had sent excitement through the gem community. One fine deposit of watermelon tourmaline had set everyone on their ears. The pink stones without fractures were as rare as emeralds without flaws. She saw Slade’s smile widen.

“Don’t tell me…wait…you discovered that deposit! That’s where I’ve heard your name before.” Her thumping heart underscored her awe. “I almost ended up working at that site,” Cat added in disbelief.

“I know. I was the one who tried to persuade the owners to hire you to sink the shafts.” Slade shrugged. “But contracts are contracts; you were still building a mine shaft in Austria at the time. Just think, we almost rubbed elbows two years ago.”

Cat was still shaking her head. “You discovered El Camino. I can’t believe it.”

“You’ll wound my poetic soul with barbs like that.”

“Somehow, I think very little penetrates that thick skin of yours.”

“Mmm, careful. The right woman has open access to my tender heart and loving soul.”

“You’re going to make me laugh whether I want to or not, Slade. Now stop it.”

He saw the faint smile at the corners of her lush mouth, an unspoiled mouth that needed taming. Cat wasn’t like most women, he suspected. But then, he didn’t expect her to be. She lived in a world of brawny miners, skilled in the reshaping of the earth, but resistant to women who chose to be more than bed partners and housekeepers. Slade knew by the set of Cat’s jaw that she had endured much to succeed in her career, and he admired her for that. Like the roses that grew wild behind his ranch house, Cat had not only flowered, she had blossomed in the harsh environment.

Slade cornered the car gently, turning into the flight-service area of the airport. He pointed toward the tarmac. “Say hello to my number-two gal, Maggie.”

Cat’s eyes widened in appreciation as she stared at the sleek, aerodynamically designed Cessna. Slade might appear laid back, but he took good care of his airplane. Its gleaming white surface looked recently waxed, and the graceful red stripe running from the tail to the nose was a dark ruby color. The name on the fuselage read: Donovan’s Services, Inc.

“Just what services do you perform?” she couldn’t resist asking.

Slade put the car in park and pulled the key from the ignition. His grin was infuriating. “What service would you like rendered?”

Cat clamped her mouth shut, fiercely aware of the innuendo in his voice.

“If Maggie’s number two, who’s number one?” she persisted.

Slade released his seat belt and opened his door. Still grinning, he replied, “I’m holding that position open for a woman who wants to share my name and put her shoes under my bed and has as much wanderlust in her soul as I do.”

“Chances are, like every other engineer and geologist I’ve met, you’ve got a woman in every port.”

Donovan winked. “Maybe,” was all he said, before he walked off to the flight office. Within ten minutes he had returned with his flight plan in hand. Then he helped Cat out of the car, remaining close beside her, their bodies almost touching.

“Maggie’s beautiful,” Cat told him admiringly.

“I knew you had a fine eye for beauty. Ready?”

Cat was as excited as if she were heading off to a new mining site in a new land. Slade’s smile told her he understood the tremor of excitement in her voice when she said, “Yes, I’m ready.”

Some of Cat’s initial exuberance turned to gratitude when she entered the spacious cabin of the aircraft. Slade had taken out three seats on the starboard side. In their place was a comfortable-looking cot, complete with a pillow, blankets and sheets. He motioned her toward it.

“Dr. Scott said that you wouldn’t be able to withstand a trip sitting up all the time. It’s going to take us ten hours to reach the ranch.”

She slid him a glance. “Do you spoil all your women this way? So much attention to detail?”

“Just for you, Cat. Just you.”

“One part of me believes you; the other doesn’t,” she said lightly. Her expression, however, was thoughtful.

“You wound my Texas spirit,” Slade complained. “Perhaps I’m your knight in shining armor carrying you off to my castle to live happily ever after. Would that be so bad?”

His wistfulness moved through her like a lover’s caress. My God, the man could weave a spell with his intimate talk–something Cat had not often found in men she’d met during her travels. She’d been handed most of their lines, but Slade was different. The feeling was good, however, so she didn’t really want to fight it.

“You have been my knight, Slade,” she admitted shyly. “You saved my life.”

He preened beneath her compliment, his careless grin spreading across his face. “Well, my lady, you have a choice: sit up in the copilot’s seat for a while and keep me company, or lie down and enjoy the scenery.”

“I’d like to sit up in the cockpit.”

“Ah, to be with me. Good choice.”

“No, I want to see how you handle this plane.” Mustn’t let him get too cocky, she reminded herself.

“Oh.” A shadow crossed his face.

Cat had never run into a man who showed such a range of feelings so easily. Most men stonewalled their emotions and responses, which was why she had found little incentive to establish an enduring relationship with any of them. With Slade, it was just the opposite. He was so obviously rattled by her reason for coming into the cockpit. Feeling more than a little guilty, Cat muttered, “I don’t feel like being relegated to the rear just yet. I’m hungry for some good conversation.”

Slade brightened and motioned her to move in front of him. “So, you’ll even settle for me, hmm?”

Choosing not to reply, Cat sat down and observed Slade’s attention to detail as he checked her seat belt before revving up the aircraft’s two engines. Once he put on the headset, with the slender mike close to his lips, Slade was in another world. But even then, he made Cat feel as though they were a team, putting a headset on her and showing her where the volume dial was located.

She was entranced by Slade’s hands: despite their size and roughness, there was a touching grace to their movements as they went through the preflight check. Heat unexpectedly moved through her. Slade was affecting her on levels she hadn’t anticipated.

Meanwhile, Slade was receiving clearance to take off, and launched into a nonstop commentary about how Maggie was just as alive as they were, in her own way. Cat noticed how his fingers wrapped gently around the twin throttles positioned on the console between them, and she wondered what it would be like to be similarly stroked by this man. A slight smile hovered around her mouth as a fantasy began to take shape.

Suddenly, they were lifting off. All else was forgotten as Slade shot her a joyous look. She smiled back. Maggie sliced through the blue skies of Maine, her nose pointed in a southwesterly direction, toward Texas. Slade adjusted the fuel mixture and the engines began their deep, throbbing growl. Then the vibration minimized and peace blanketed the cabin.

“Maggie’s crew will now ask their esteemed and illustrious passenger if she would like some coffee.”

“I don’t know about the esteemed and illustrious part–” she grinned “–but yes, the passenger would love a cup of coffee. Where is it? I can get it.”

Slade held up his hand. “No, don’t move.” He reached down and retrieved a battered aluminum thermos from behind his seat. Setting the plane on autopilot, he expertly poured a cup and handed it to her. Cat’s otherwise pale cheeks flamed as their fingertips met and touched. “You look more relaxed,” Slade commented. “Is it because we didn’t crash on takeoff or because you’re on another adventure?”

“You have the disturbing ability to read my mind,” she muttered, disconcerted.

Slade poured himself some coffee and recapped the thermos. Then, taking Maggie off autopilot, he wrapped his fingers lightly around the yoke. “Why does that bother you?”

“In my experience,” she said thoughtfully, “few men look farther than the wrapping.”

“You can’t blame any of us poor males for looking, after spending months in some foreign jungle or godforsaken desert. Especially when someone as exotic-looking as you comes along.”

Heat flowed up her neck. “I’m hardly exotic.” Cat held up her left hand, showing him the calluses on her palm. “That’s not exotic, Donovan. I’ve got hands like millions of women in Third World countries who wash and beat their family’s clothes on some rock in a stream. I’ve got more muscle than women who work out daily at a health spa.” She touched her hair. “I have to wear my hair so short that sometimes I’m mistaken for a man from the rear.” She grimaced. “I’m hardly exotic, as you put it.”

“So you think I’m handing you a line?”

Cat sighed, then admitted warily, “The way you talk, I almost believe you mean it.”

Slade gave her a smoldering look. “I do mean it. Someday,” he drawled in his thick Texan accent, “I’ll show you why you’re such an incredibly exotic woman.”

Cat avoided his gaze as molten weakness again flowed through her like light refracting through a diamond. “If there is an enigma here,” she said, laughing, “it’s you. Tell me about yourself. And none of your Texas tall tales.”

Slade laughed good-naturedly, then finished off his coffee and set the cup aside. “Now, there isn’t a Texan alive who can resist embellishing the truth a bit.”

“Try.”

Slade scanned the instrument panel. They had climbed to fifteen thousand feet, the skies were azure and the sunlight bright. He pulled a pair of aviator’s sunglasses from the pocket of his shirt and put them on. “I was born in Galveston, Texas, thirty-five years ago. My Irish father emigrated to the U.S. when he was a lad and he’s still a fisherman in Galveston. My mother–she’s the native-born Texan–owns a small shop at an exclusive mall, importing products from Ireland.”

“Sisters? Brothers?”

“Seven. I’m the fifth-oldest, with three brothers and three beautiful sisters.”

“Not exotic sisters?”

He tilted his head toward her and his voice lowered to an intimate tone. “No, you’re exotic. They aren’t.”

He had such a convincing line, Cat thought, secretly delighted with his opinion that she was exotic and, of course, keeping in mind that it was just that. “I see. How did you get into geology?”

“I decided I didn’t want to fish for a living like the rest of my family. I used to stand in the boat and watch the waves and wonder where they had come from. What far shore had they left? What ships did they encounter on their journey? Or what fish or mammals had graced them with their presence?” Slade shook his head. “No, my father told me when I was only this high–” he pointed to his knee “–that I was like my great-grandfather, who was the family adventurer. He could never stay in one place more than a few months at a time, either.”

“And you have that same restlessness?” Cat offered. She handed him her empty cup.

Slade shrugged. “Restlessness? No. Life to me is one constant, nonstop adventure. I always want to know what lies over the next hill or wander through the next valley to see what and who is living there.”

“Why the fascination with geology then? You could have been in the merchant marine instead, sailing the seas.”

Slade smiled at her question. “Rocks held a special fascination for me. As a kid, when I finished my fishing chores, I used to pick stones up from the beach and study them. I’d wonder why one was black and another striated with pink and white. I used to hold them in my hand, trying to communicate with them and asking them their names and where they had come from.”

Cat closed her eyes, resting against the seat. She could imagine a dark-haired boy crouched on the ground, holding in his palm a rock that stirred his curiosity, staring at it with intense fascination. Slade was like a child who had never closed off his ability to dream and spin stories. He was special, Cat admitted, a rare being who still had the ability to fantasize, to ignore the limitations in a rationally constructed society. “And did any of them talk to you?” she asked softly.

“Of course they did,” he said with a laugh. “That was what led me to ask my teachers about the life of a rock. Eventually they got tired of all my questions and ordered special books on rock hunting for me.”

“And are you still like that little boy, always asking questions?”

“I haven’t changed at all,” Slade confirmed with satisfaction. “Today, I drive mining engineers to the edge of distraction.”

“Where did you take your geology schooling?” she asked, curious to know more about his past.

“Is there any other place? Colorado.”

“Like me. I’m impressed.”

He feigned drama, his hand across his heart. “Finally! We have something in common.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”

“You made it seem that way, Ms. Kincaid.”

She shot him a wry glance. “Despite any possible ulterior motives, you did save my life. The least I could be is a decent guest.”

“Did I slip something into the coffee?”

Cat chortled. “Come on, I’m not always a stick-in-the-mud.”

“Did I accuse you of that? No way, sweetheart. You’re a risk taker because your career demands it. It makes you an interesting and exotic woman. One of a kind.”

“Oh, please! Get off the exotic kick, Slade.”

“I can’t help it if you’re not a regular hothouse flower. That’s your fault.”

“Let’s steer the conversation back to you. A four-year degree out of Colorado and then what?”

“Just kicked around the world prospecting like any other crazy rock hound.”

“What kind of rocks? Is your specialty igneous?” she asked, remembering his tourmaline discovery.

“Why? Do I remind you of an igneous type?”

She smiled. Geologists usually chose one of three of the different rock types to specialize in: igneous, metamorphic or sedimentary. “You know what they say about the igneous type: they run hot and molten.”

“So that’s how you see me, eh?”

“I see you being bored by sedimentary exploration. You’re strong and robust; you’re the sort who would challenge igneous rock and tackle it with ease. Although we both know sinking mine shafts into rock that doesn’t want to be penetrated isn’t easy.”

“Granted. Or should I say: granite.”

“Slade, I’m not even going to laugh because that’s a sick rock joke you’d use on a freshman in geology.”

“Nobody said my humor was always in top form.” He gave her his innocent little-boy look.

“Do people always forgive your transgressions?”

“More importantly, will you?”

“I don’t hold grudges.”

“But you’ll remember.”

Her voice grew soft. “I’ll remember.”

“Well, enough of me,” Slade countered. “How about yourself? I had the pleasure of meeting your entire family, so I got an idea of what you’re like.”

“I’m sure Dal and Rafe gave you an earful about me.”

“Don’t sound so wary.”

With a grimace, Cat pretended to pay more attention to the sky around them. “All right, you tell me what they said.”

“Let’s see, what adjectives should I use?”

“If you use exotic, I’m going to take everything you’re saying as one-hundred percent baloney, Donovan,” she warned him.

“Texans can be serious at times, too,” he reassured her, attempting a somber look.

“We’ll see. So what do you think of me, now that you’ve learned all from my family?”

“You’re a daredevil. Rafe told me how you two jumped your horses between two cliffs.”

“Did he also tell you that my horse stumbled on the other side and fell? I broke my arm and nose.”

Slade shook his head. He saw and felt Cat relaxing. She had been so long in isolation with men that she was closed up. He saw the softening of her lips, heard new life in her voice and saw more color stain her cheeks. If nothing else, during the next eight weeks of recuperation, Slade would remind Cat of her decidedly female side, gently drawing all of it to the surface. He knew he could do it; there was a chemistry between them.