Stevie Lee Page 15

  Standing with one hip thrown out to counterbalance the weight of the duffel slung over her shoulder, she held onto her hat and waited for the Jeep to reach her. Strands of her hair whipped around her head, tangling up and mingling with the windblown dirt. She pushed her hat lower and hefted the duffel higher, trying to create a windbreak.

  The driver raised a hand in greeting, made a wild sweeping wave, actually, but it was all Stevie could do to waggle a few fingers away from their grip on the duffel strap.

  “Come on, Lola, come on,” she mumbled into her bandana, bracing herself against a heavy gust.

  The Jeep lurched to a groaning stop and continued whining what Stevie instinctively knew was a death song. She knew it as surely as she was frying in the wind and the sun—and her heart plummeted back to her stomach. What could possibly go wrong next?

  She didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Before her very eyes, the hood of the Jeep blew back against the windshield, lifted by a rising plume of steam and water. The driver bailed out, and, fighting against the wind, made his way toward her.

  No way did those broad shoulders belong to a lady named Lola, Stevie thought, watching the whole scene unfold like a bad dream—the steaming, dead Jeep in the background, a strange man bearing down on her, his head lowered, his stockman’s hat jammed on low.

  She started to back off when two things caught her eye: The flaxen glint of the hair under the hat, and the long sure stride eating up the distance between them. He walked like he owned the earth under his feet.

  In a flash, she broke into a run.

  Hal caught her up in his arms and twirled her around, kissing her ear, her temple, the bridge of her nose, every part of her left bare between her hat and bandana. Her fingers tunnelled through the hair sweeping around the collar of his chambray shirt, holding him as if she’d never let him go.

  Slowly the initial thrill of seeing each other softened into something deeper, stronger. He lowered her back to her feet, his mouth following the retreating bandana as he tugged it away from her face, until his lips captured hers. The hot, yearning sweetness of his kiss went through her like a flame, searing her heart with tenderness and passion.

  Never again, Hal promised himself. Never again would he leave without her. He needed this woman. He needed her life forever entwined with his. He needed her body and her love to make him whole—and the lazy, searching track of her mouth beneath his, the tightness of her arms around his neck, her very presence told him of her needs.

  He would have kissed her until the sun fell into the ocean, until the moon rose above the desert, but the increasing tempo of the storm forced a distracting level of common sense upon them both.

  “Jeep,” he said close to her ear, and felt her nod. Pulling her under his arm for protection, he guided her to the driver’s side of the vehicle and helped her inside.

  Through the side window, Stevie watched him go back for her duffel bag, all of her fears banished and replaced by a new and wondrous sense of adventure. The other side of the world, however barren and scorched, looked like paradise with Hal at her side. The dust storm became a wild veil of mystery over the landscape, the sun’s heat a display of Mother Nature’s intense charms. As for the dead Jeep, now it was a mere inconvenience, the problem of the moment. She’d seen Hal in action on his truck engine, and her faith in his skill knew no bounds. He’d have them purring along through the outback in no time. Then they could talk and talk and talk. She wanted to hear his latest hair-raising story about the search, and she’d promised all the folks back home a long, detailed letter including every dangerous twist. But most of all, she wanted to talk about the letter he’d given her the day he’d left. She’d had plenty of time to think and had needed none of it. The night he’d walked into the Trail, she’d felt her life change course, and no matter how hard she’d fought against it, her life had continued to change and change. All she had to do was look out the window to see how far she’d come and to look into her heart to know how much he’d given her. A fresh wave of happiness brought a smile to her mouth.

  An hour later, as she munched on a ham sandwich, she realized the happiness still hadn’t deserted her. The storm had long since passed them by, but they hadn’t budged an inch, and she still wasn’t worried. In her mind she saw days like this stretching out timelessly into the future. No clocks to punch, no ledger books weighing her down, just she and Hal discovering the wild places. She’d take it for as long as she could get it. She had a lot of her own wanderlust bottled up inside, and he’d popped the cork.

  “Okay, Stevie, crank her up,” he hollered from underneath the hood. “Heavy on the gas.”

  One foot firm on the clutch, the other playing the gas pedal, she turned the key. While she listened for the engine to catch, she helped herself to a long swallow of lukewarm tea out of the water bottle.

  “Stop!”

  She turned off the key and exchanged the bottle for the sandwich in her lap. Chewing away contentedly, she waited for his next command.

  “Start.”

  She did.

  “Stop.”

  She did.

  “Sandwich.”

  She leaned way out the window and giggled as he devoured the sandwich out of her hand, leaving her only the little bit grasped in her fingers.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, disappearing under the hood again. “Okay, this is it. Now or never.”

  Stevie popped the rest of the sandwich in her mouth, sent up a prayer, and turned the key. Slowly the engine puttered to life.

  Grinning from ear to ear, he peeked out from under the hood and gave her the thumbs-up sign. They were back in business. He slammed the hood down and came around to the passenger side.

  You better drive,” he explained, with a warm smile deepening the creases in his dust-caked face. “I don’t think I can take my eyes off you.”

  “I feel the same way about you,” she admitted softly, feeling all of her love well up inside her.

  “Well, if I start in now telling you how much I missed you, we’ll still be here next week—and I’ve got other plans for tonight.”

  “Such as?”

  “Camping under the stars. I want you all to myself for a few days before we head back to Chauncey and Lola’s.”

  “Umm. Sounds nice.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

  “How about cooking out over an open fire?”

  “Sounds even better.”

  “Skinny-dipping in a borehole?”

  Tossing her braid over her shoulder, she laughed and jimmied the gearshift into first. “You’re on. Which way?”

  Hal slipped a compass out of his shirt pocket and held it flat in his hand. With his other hand he pointed out her side of the windshield. “Southeast. I know a shortcut. We’ll pick up another road ten miles from here.”

  Stevie watched him slide the compass into a slot on the dashboard, fighting to keep a small, twitching grin off her face. He leaned over and gave her a smacking kiss, then flopped back in his seat.

  “Lord, I’m glad to see you. Let’s go before we cook in here.”

  Pushing her hat to the back of her head, she slanted him a dry look and said, “Shortcut, Hal? One of your shortcuts?”

  Slouched against the door, he pushed his own hat back and met her gaze directly. A broad, easy smile slowly spread across his face and crinkled the corners of his deep blue eyes. “I can tell right now you’re gonna make my life a lot more interesting.”

  “Coming from you, that’s quite a compliment”

  “I meant it to be.” He nodded in agreement, then reached over and tapped the compass. “Southeast, Stevie, and I’ll have you floating up to your neck in cool green water before the sun goes down.”

  “Promises, promises,” she said, pulling her hat down and easing off the clutch.

  Driving along the roadless track, she listened as he told her about his days in the jungle, where he’d searched high and low for a frightened eighteen-year-old boy. His gravelly voice express
ed every nuance of the adventure. Stevie gasped in all the right places and held her breath through others, reliving the tale with him.

  Hal watched the emotions cross her face, loving the natural way she showed her feelings. All the time he talked he kept his arm across the back of her seat, continually touching her shoulder or letting his thumb brush along the side of her neck. More than once, she pulled over so they could kiss and murmur their words of love.

  Just before dusk, Stevie spotted the skeletal form of a windmill shimmering on the horizon, its base seemingly disconnected from the ground. “Another fifteen minutes and—”

  “And you’ll be up to your neck in water. Go ahead and strip down.” He gave her a sly wink.

  “I’ll be moving too fast for you to see much,” she said. With a flick of her wrist she tossed her hat into the back of the Jeep. She unknotted her bandana and sent it flying behind her hat, and even as she braked to a stop, she was pulling her T-shirt out of her pants.

  * * *

  Hours later under a full moon and a sky resplendent with stars, she lay in Hal’s arms, feeling well fed, well loved, and infinitely at peace with her big, new world.

  “So what’s the news from home?” He levered himself up on to his elbow and gazed down at her, his free hand gently brushing the hair back from her face. Light from the camp fire flickered and danced over the tawny goldness of his hair and the hard angles of his body, tracing the breadth of his shoulders, adding shadow to the muscles in his arms.

  Stevie stretched out beside him and tucked her hands beneath her head. “Well, Diana had a little girl. Mom is thrilled, and whipping up pink dresses as fast as her old sewing machine can go. Kip and Brenda got married last month, and I signed the Trail back to him. He paid me in cash, the whole six thousand. I’m loaded. You might want to keep me around for a while.”

  “Maybe,” he said, flashing one of his midnight smiles.

  She was right, Stevie thought. She loved finding his head on the pillow next to hers when the world was dark and quiet. And he never failed to whisper something passionate and foreign when they made love.

  “More than maybe,” she said innocently.

  “I assume you’re talking about my unfinished business.”

  “Yep.”

  “I knew this was going to be interesting.” He waited a moment for her to tell him what she’d done. But all she did was lay there looking beautiful and slightly smug. “Come on, Stevie. Don’t keep me hanging.”

  She gave him a laconic glance, letting a small smile flirt with her mouth, then said, “You still own the truck.”

  Letting out with a loud groan, he rolled over on his back and threw an arm over his face. “Oh, brother. I guess this means I’ll have to marry you.”

  “There’s no guess about it,” she said calmly, stretching her left hand out in front of her. “A small gold band will do.”

  “A small gold band? How small?” He lifted his head hopefully.

  “Oh, about an eighth of an inch.”

  “You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” he asked, reaching for his pants.

  “Not much, actually.”

  “Well, then I guess you won’t be disappointed with this.” He pulled a piece of tissue paper out of his pocket and tossed it on the bedroll. Stevie picked it up and felt something hard wrapped inside. Her eyebrows rose. He continued. “The band is actually closer to a quarter inch, but I’m sure I can have somebody knock off—”

  “A diamond!” Stevie stared at the huge, uncut stone mounted on a heavy ring of gold. “Oh, Hal . . .” her voice trailed off softly.

  “Is that ‘Oh, Hal’ a yes?”

  “It’s so big.” She turned the ring this way and that, letting the fire shine through the chunk of gem. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “We can have it cut and polished if you like . . . if you say yes.”

  “Oh, Hal, no, not this stone. We don’t dare chip anything off my good luck charm. Besides, I think I like my diamonds the same way I like my men” —she glanced up at him from under her lashes, her eyes shy and soft—“kind of rough around the edges.”

  He grinned and slowly drew her over on top of him. “That has to be a yes, because I’m as rough as they come,” he said. Then, for the rest of the night, he proved only how gentle he was, loving her with tenderness and care.

  Twelve

  One year later

  “Morgan, Keats, Morgan, and Keats,” Hal read the letterhead aloud, a wry grin curving his mouth. “We sound like a law firm. Can’t you ladies come up with something a little less redundant? You know what the guides are calling us, don’t you?”

  “They call me boss. I can just imagine what they call you.” Stevie searched through the mess on her desk, finally coming up with the right file folder.

  “They call us Mickey Mick, which is damn close to Mickey Mouse, which is a hell of a moniker for an agency with our safety record. And they may call you boss in here, but everywhere else they call you Trouble. From the Andes to Alaska, they know Trouble is watching them like a hawk.” He didn’t dare tell her they also called her “Legs,” and it wasn’t because she kept up with the best of them. She already knew she had the guides wrapped around her fingers.

  “Those boys are wild. They need someone to keep an eye on them.”

  Hal’s smile broadened as he watched her rummage around for a pencil. “It’s stuck behind your ear.”

  “Oh, thanks, sweetheart.” She pulled the pencil out and began jotting notes on the folder. “I’ll be done here in a minute, then we can go home.”

  “It’s Sunday,” he reminded her, and saw a smile of relief touch the corners of her mouth.

  “Great,” she said with a sigh, relaxing back in her chair. “Dinner at Mom and Dad’s. We don’t have to cook.”

  “You mean I don’t have to cook.” He’d become a regular house husband since their marriage, at least during the few months out of the year when they were home. “How’s the O’Neill trip coming along?”

  “I’ve got them booked through the Great Barrier Reef, and Lola’s picking them up for the outback tour. My problem is with the Hobarts in Sydney. They decided to add an extra week to their vacation, and they want to spend it rafting the Colorado through the Grand Canyon. On such short notice I’m having a heck of a time fitting them on a raft.”

  With the Morgans on one side of the equator and the Keats on the other, and Chauncey’s and Hal’s—especially Hal’s—reputations backing them up, their travel agency and outfitting service had taken off like a rocket. During the course of her dealings and travels, Stevie had racked up a few favors owed her, but something as simple as this Grand Canyon problem left her stymied. She’d been to Alaska, South America, and Australia, but she’d never been to Arizona.

  “Didn’t Johnny used to make that run?” Hal asked, referring to one of their guides.

  “Of course! He has all kinds of connections down there.” She leaned forward and started dialing. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Because I’m the brains behind this operation. I just keep you around to look at.”

  “Hah!” She laughed and slanted a teasing glance up at him. “You’d be lost without me.”

  Before her finger hit the last button, Hal took the phone receiver out of her hand and set it back in its cradle. “Business can wait.” He grasped her hand in his, pulling her out of the chair and into his arms.

  Stevie went willingly, the Hobart file spilling out of her lap and onto the floor. “Now look what you made me do,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. “The Hobarts will probably end up in their own backyard instead of the Grand Canyon.” Her fingers tunnelled through the flaxen length of his hair, which no amount of growth had been able to darken down; he still spent most of his days in the sun. And he spent all of his nights in her arms. Wherever he went, she was by his side, be it the wild rivers of Alaska, or the ancient ruins of Peru.

  “Then Lola will show the
m a part of it they never dreamed existed,” he said, settling her against him with a mischievous grin. “I’ve got a present for you.”

  Caught by the underlying thread of excitement in his voice, she lifted her face in expectation. “Present?”

  With the gentleness of love, he smoothed his hand across the side of her face, sliding the ever-wayward strands of loose, honey-brown hair behind her ear. His voice lowered to a rough timbre. “Do you know how I love you, Stevie?”

  “The way I love you,” she answered slowly, softening against him, molding her body to his and touching her fingers to his cheek. She loved him the way the flowers loved the sun, the way the sea loved the shores. He had opened her to the world, letting her blossom in the light; he was her home at the end of each day’s journey, always there, never wavering.

  “The way all men have loved the other half of their hearts,” he continued. “Everything I have is yours, but like you figured out long before you met me, financial security isn’t my long suit.”

  Gazing at him through eyes filled with love, she shook her head in disagreement. Truthfully he’d given her more security than she’d ever hoped to have, not only financially—their business was booming—but emotionally, which was his greatest gift.

  “Ah, you’re good to me, Stevie. Good for me.”

  “And that is why”—she kissed the side of his mouth—“you bring me presents.”

  “Actually I didn’t bring the present to you.” At the immediate lift of her brow, he explained further. “It’s so big I’ll have to take you to the present.”

  “There’s a story in this somewhere, isn’t there?” The question was rhetorical. She knew how his mind worked; it worked up a story at the drop of a pin, and a present too big to deliver was an opportunity she knew he wouldn’t pass up.

  She was right.

  “There once was a man,” he began, his smile fading, “a very wealthy man, who loved a woman; Shah Jehan was his name. The woman was called Mumtaz Mahal, ‘Splendour of the Palace,’ an ebony-haired, dark-eyed beauty who held his heart in her hand. But she couldn’t have been more beautiful than you, Stephanie Lisa Marie, and not even a Mogul emperor could love you as much as I do.” He paused and sealed his pledge with a soft kiss. Then his mouth traced a gentle line to her ear, where he lingered as he wove his magic tale, holding her close. “When she died and darkness seemed to be all around the Shah, he built a rare palace born to capture the dawn, a monument to love in opalescent marble. The Taj Mahal floats in the early morning light, a blessing for all to see, like your first waking smile, Stevie. She stands untouched by the storms of time, like my love. I want to take you there, to Agra, to say good-bye to our first year together and to celebrate the years to come. Say yes, and we’ll leave the day after tomorrow.”