Heat Wave (2 page)

Fully aware she was barely clothed, that the wet halter might as well have been nonexistent, she blushed. He made her want to fling her hands in front of herself to try and hide from his devouring blue eyes. “Will you please not look at me like that!”

“Honey, there are some things a man just can’t resist doing,” he drawled and continued his survey, his gaze dropping down to study her long, slender legs as she slipped the uncomfortably wet sneakers off. “My, oh my, oh my! I knew when I got up this morning, today would be a good day.”

Determined not to let him upset her, she raised her chin. “You’re not keeping your part of the bargain.”

“I didn’t say a word about looking at you. The phone is right there on that table.”

It was only a few feet away! Her anger rushed back full force. “You could have handed the phone to me while I was in the water. It’s cordless!”

He grinned. “That wouldn’t have been any fun at all and I wouldn’t have a dinner date.”

“You aren’t fair! To add to your list of vile characteristics, you’re a cheat, Mr. Chandler.”

“It achieved what I wanted.”

She was certain he was a gangster. Farming! Farmers were the salt of the earth. They were pleasant, reliable, trustworthy people. And they worked hard. They didn’t lie around nude, sunbathing all day.

“Where am I? I’ll have to give someone directions to come pick me up.”

“I’ll take you home after dinner.”

“Oh, no! Not on your life. Just tell me where I
am.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slowly. He grinned, remaining infuriatingly silent.

“You have to tell me where I am! Someone will have to come get the balloon. Or what’s left of it.”

“I’ll take you and the remains home.”

“It’ll be trouble.”

“No, bother, honey.”

The subject was closed. A flutter of panic disturbed her and, picking up the blue phone, she punched the numbers vigorously to vent her frustration.

As the phone on the other end rang; she shook wet strands of red hair away from her face and glanced over her shoulder. Only a few feet away Cole Chandler stood with his hands on his narrow hips, blatantly eyeing her.

She turned her back to him when she heard Jack say hello.

“Jack, this is Marilee.” The explosion that she had expected came. She held the receiver away from her ear, listening to his fuming and cursing. During the first quarter hour of the race, Jack had followed her and they had kept in contact by CB radio. Shortly after that, he had told her she was drifting too far off course, then they had lost contact. As he described to her his anguish of the last few hours, she could imagine his angry brown eyes, the lock of straight brown hair that fell over his forehead. When he gave her a chance to speak, she said, “I’m sorry. After I got off course, I don’t know what happened.”

“While you sailed off at a crazy angle, my car stalled,” he said, obviously still upset. “I couldn’t keep sight of you. Where are you now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Marilee …”

“Jack, I’m at a home of a man named Cole Chandler. I’m way out in nowhere. It’s in the middle of a wheat field.”

“I’ve heard of Cole Chandler. Is it a big fancy house?”

“Yes.”

“Give me directions and
I’ll
be right out to get you.”

“Wait a minute, Jack. I’m staying for dinner.”

“You’re what?”

“He invited me for dinner.”

“Marilee, you don’t even know the man.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m staying for dinner.”

“Where’s the balloon?”

She drew a long breath. How she hated to answer that question. It was worse than telling Jack she was staying for dinner. She and Jack dated occasionally but he wasn’t interested beyond friendship. The balloon was different. Jack loved the balloon. How could she tell him she had just destroyed the object of his affections?

“Where’s my balloon?” he repeated testify.

“I have insurance. I’ll pay for it. Jack.”

“Dammit, where is it?”

“In the swimming pool.”

She held the receiver away from her ear while Jack swore a steady stream.

Cole stepped close enough behind her that she could feel the heat of his body. “It seems the man is more interested in his balloon than in you,” he drawled. “I take it there’s nothing serious between you.”

“That’s right.” Embarrassed, she raised the receiver. “Jack,
I’ll
pay for it. I’m sorry it happened.”

“I knew it! Is the gondola in the water? My CB?”

“Yes.”

“I knew you’d do this! I shouldn’t have listened when you said you wanted to fly it for me. That bullheaded independence of yours has done it now!”

“If I get you another one, won’t it be all right?”

Cole took the receiver out of her hand.

“This is Cole Chandler,” he said in a businesslike voice. “Pick out another balloon, mister, and send the bill to me. I’ll buy you a new one, whatever kind and price you want. I’ll keep this as a souvenir.”

Marilee burned with rage. “You’ll do not such thing!”

Cole calmly replaced the receiver.

“You hung up on him! I wasn’t through talking and you’re not buying Jack another balloon!”

The look in his eyes sent a message as clear as a telegram. He wasn’t listening to a word she said.

His blue eyes devoured her, consuming every thought in her head except the realization that she suddenly felt as if she had picked up a live wire.

“Now, Marilee, I’m going to collect payment for the balloon.”

His voice was husky and coaxing. Its deep timbre was like a touch, sending a shiver through her. Even so, she started to answer coolly, to stop the pass that she knew was coming. But the words lodged in her throat, melting away as she met his gaze.

Their communication changed from verbal to physical and the impact was dazzling.

The depths of his blue eyes seemed deeper than his swimming pool. And it was going to be a thousand times more difficult to stay afloat. The air between them was so electric with tension, Marilee was surprised lightning didn’t spark.

Suddenly Cole Chandler wasn’t just a stranger, just a man. Instead he was a wonderful, exciting man. Her consciousness of him had jumped into a different realm.

She became interested in him, acutely aware of him physically beyond anything she would have believed possible. It was as if she were myopic and someone had dropped corrective lenses over her eyes. Time was suspended. The moment was prolonged and became one of monumental Importance.

His chest expanded with a shuddering breath and she knew that he felt the overpowering magnetism too.

With distracting confidence, he whispered, “Come here, honey.” His gaze caught her; his seductive tone reeled her in. As he put his arms around her waist to draw her near, she acquiesced languorously.

She was still wet from the pool. He was warm and dry. His rough terrycloth towel pressed against her bare skin above the waistband of her shorts. She put her hands on his chest, entranced with the crisp short brown curls as they tickled her palms, and the hard muscles beneath them.

The mere contact of her flesh on his was riveting. His skin smelled of suntan lotion. She knew better than to let him kiss her. Sure she did. So why was it so difficult to refuse?

As she started to push away, he chuckled. “If you struggle, the towel you wanted me to wear will be gone.”

She froze and his arms crushed her to him. Her skimpy wet halter was little barrier between them. His thick chest hair was a sensuous treat to her wet breasts. Drowning out all sounds, her heart drummed in her ears as he leaned down.

His lips possessed hers, taking command in a hard, deliberate kiss. His tongue thrust into her mouth with an arrogant force, sending a startling shock from head to toe as it drank in her sweetness, explored her, set off a hundred tiny explosions.

Agony burst inside, radiating, filling her with seductive torment. She dazedly wrapped her arms around him, feeling the firm muscles in his back.

He lifted his head and studied her with an expression she couldn’t fathom, with blue eyes that had darkened to the color of a stormy Kansas sky.

As she slanted her gaze up beneath dark auburn lashes, she exhaled slowly. Her heavy-lidded eyes didn’t want to stay open and she felt as If she were slowly being anesthetized. Every inch of her skin was sensitive, aware of the faintest brush of his male frame.

He drew a sharp breath. When he spoke, his voice was low, unsteady. “You’re really something, Marilee.”

“So are you.” Something I should avoid like the plague. She was in more danger now than when she had plunged out of the sky to earth. She felt dizzy with pleasure from his demanding kiss, from longings he had stirred that made her ache all over.

For an instant the thought flashed in her mind that it wasn’t fair. Fate had dealt her a wicked hand. Why did it have to be a man like Cole Chandler, someone she didn’t know, an aggravating, arrogant male who laughed at her predicament, charmed and worried her, who could kiss her and drive all reason right out of mind? Worry receded as his hold on her tightened. “You’re a green-eyed witch.”

“Oh, thanks,” she whispered, struggling to regain her control. “What did you say your name is?”

He chuckled, his warm breath brushing her ear. “You know what it is. I think fate brought you to me.” His tongue’s hot moistness flicked her ear, heightening the scorching giddiness she was already feeling.

“Not fate. A damned, faulty hot-air balloon.” If
she had consumed a gallon of heady wine, she didn’t think it would be any more difficult to concentrate.

She ignored his laugh as his tongue traced across the nape of her neck, then teased her ear. “I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for balloons,” he murmured.

She wasn’t sure what he had said or how she had answered. All she knew was that his lips were coming closer again, deliciously closer … too close.

“Mr. Chandler!”

“Cole.” He kissed her throat.

Summoning her wits, her determination, she stepped back out of his arms. The fiery hunger in his blue eyes made her resolve waver, but she knotted her fists, standing firm.

“That’s enough!”

His voice was a silky drawl that disturbed her as much as his touch. “No, you know it’s not enough.” The corners of his mouth raised slowly. “But
I’ll
wait.”

“You can’t imagine how nervous you’re making me. I promised dinner,
but …”

He held up his hand. “That’s right—you promised. I’m not taking you home now.”

His hooded eyes were sending a smoldering message that kept her pulse racing like an idling engine. While part of her conversed with him, another level of thought was conscious of his devastating effect and was urging her to yield, to reach out for his strong, tanned arms.

Jolting her even more, he said, “You look torn with indecision. Honey, why don’t you make life easy on yourself? Come
here …”
A long arm reached out for her.

His action alarmed her. Too well she pictured his body, remembered its hardness, its warmth. “No! I promised dinner, that’s all!” His voice became soft, so low she could barely hear. “Your kisses are spectacular …”

‘Thanks, so are yours. Now, we’ve covered the subject, let’s drop it.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” he said gently. Sunlight gave a sheen to the smooth oiled muscles of his shoulders and arms. It was an effort to keep her gaze fixed on his face, not to look again at his magnificent body.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“I think you’re scared of yourself. Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes, and it didn’t have a happy ending.” The moment she admitted the truth, she wished she could take it back. Now he’d want all the details.

“I’m sorry.” He frowned. “Are you divorced?”

“No. It never got that far along. The man I was engaged to after college died before we married.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

Marilee shrugged. “It was a long time ago. He was in Saigon in the diplomatic service. Are you going to take me home now?”

Cole folded his arms across his broad chest and grinned. “You’re staying for dinner, remember?”

“You won’t change your mind about it?”

“Not a chance. A promise is a promise.”

Suddenly, he frowned and looked up. For an Instant she wondered what he was doing, then she heard the motor of a light plane.

It was dark blue, flying low, and coming fast: As it swept over the house Cole burst into action, startling Marilee. He lithely jumped over the chaise and snatched something up.

Amazed, she watched as he raised a two-way radio to his mouth. Static sounded, then Cole spoke.

“Bill, can you spot the plane?”

He flipped the switch and a voice came above the static. “Nope. It’s just a dot through binoculars. Pete’s calling in now.”

Cole switched back. “It’s a Cessna, all blue, no markings, headed northeast. Hurry.”

A chill shook her as she listened to the conversation. He
was
a gangster. She’d promised to have dinner with a gangster!

He stood with his back to her, one hand on his narrow hips, the black radio clutched in the other while he watched the plane buzz out of sight. She could imagine him dressed all in black with guns slung on both hips. He probably developed muscles to beat up people. She wanted away from him.

Swearing softly, he shook his head as he turned around to look at her.

“Will you take me home, please?” she said, struggling to make her voice sound normal. “I don’t want to stay for dinner.”

“What’s the matter? You’re pale as snow. Honey, don’t you feel well?”

“Stay away from me.” She backed up quickly. “Mr.
Chandler …”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late to call me ‘Mr’?” he asked dryly, moving silently closer on bare feet. She was grateful that the towel at least was still securely knotted, in spite of his leap over the chaise.

“I don’t want to stay for dinner. There’s just no future in any further contact between us. Please take me home.”

“What brought on this sudden need to go home?”

“It’s not sudden. I’ve felt it ever since I dropped into your pool.”

“No, something just changed you.” His blue eyes were ice and his voice hardened. “You don’t know who was in the plane, do you?”

“In the plane? No, of course, I don’t.” She sounded as guilty as a thief. His stern features and chilling blue eyes were turning the day into winter. She even felt cold. It must be ninety-five degrees and she was practically shivering.

She decided to humor him. “It’s all right. I’ll stay for dinner.” She tried to make her voice sound light.

He was studying her as if he were trying to come to some conclusion. “You have a lovely home,” she added and wished he would quit boring into her with his direct gaze.

“What the hell is going on in your head now?” he said abruptly.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”

He started toward her and she felt like running madly. “Don’t come near me.”

“Something’s bothering you and I’m going to find out what.” He strolled up to her to put his strong arms around her.

“I really don’t want to pursue this, this friendship.”

Ignoring her, he leaned down to kiss her.

It was as devastating as before. Wild tingles sizzled through her. His warm mouth possessed hers relentlessly and he pulled her closer, his bare flesh burning her skin. Suddenly, she was more fearful of a seduction scene than anything else he might do. She had better get herself under control. He was dangerous beyond all belief.

She pushed away and snapped, “I meant that, Cole! You’re not going to kiss me again.”

His irresistible smile spread as his white teeth flashed. “Now you sound more like yourself. What got into you?”

“I don’t like you.”

He laughed. “Thanks, honey. Why don’t you like me?”

His smile goaded her beyond caution. “I don’t associate with men like you.”

Grinning, he persisted. “That’s an obtuse statement. Explain what you mean by that crack, ‘men like me.’ “

“You know very well what I mean.”

“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have asked. Come on, out with it.”

“I don’t care to associate with … with unlaw-abidlng citizens, namely you.”

His eyes widened a moment in surprise, then he threw back his head, laughing heartily.

“Unlaw-abiding citizens! What a statement. That highfalutin description is just what I’d expect from a schoolteacher.”

“You have a few other undesirable traits as well. Lump them all together and you’re not my brand of candy!”

“Let’s get back to this unlaw-abiding citizen business.” His expression became serious. “The plane brought this on. Why on earth? I told you I’m a farmer.”

“You look as farmerish as I look Eskimoish.”

His blue eyes twinkled and she knew he was having fun at her expense again, making another wave of anger erupt inside her.

“Marilee, I
am
a farmer.”

“Oh, yes! You keep a two-way radio within reach. You said you have armed guards, a ten-foot fence! You didn’t want that plane over your property.”

“I think I could enjoy myself for the next hour, but in the interests of promoting our friendship,
I’ll
explain. I have other concerns besides farming. They’re as legitimate as your teaching. I have oil wells, a drilling company, and wheat farms.”

“Why were you rushing around when the plane flew over?”

His smile faded while a touch of coldness came back to his eyes. “I’m here because of trouble I’ve been having. My men haven’t been able to stop it,
so I came to stay awhile. I’m plagued by cattle rustlers.”

“Rustlers! This is a wheat farm.”

“That’s correct, but there’s a cattle show coming up in Kansas City over the Fourth of July weekend. I have some prize cattle here, including a very valuable Aberdeen Angus bull I don’t want stolen.”

She kept her expression bland, even though she doubted every word he’d said. So he startled her by saying, “You don’t believe me, do you?” He took her hand, his strong fingers closing over hers. “Come on. I’ll show you. Let’s go in the house first.”

“Who was in the airplane?” she asked, still dubious.

“I don’t know. It didn’t have any markings to identify it, so I suspect it belonged to rustlers.”

“How can they fly without the authorities catching them?”

“They probably own a strip of land somewhere in easy access. They keep the plane out of sight. They can get a quick view of my territory and where everything is, then some night they’ll come in a truck and load up any cattle they can catch.” He pulled her along in the direction of the house.

“That’s awful!”

“So far they’ve eluded the officers in this area. I’ve lost some prize cattle, so I decided to spend a few weeks here and see if I can do anything to help. I alerted my men to watch for trouble. Didn’t you hear Bill say Pete was calling the sheriff?”

“I heard something about a call, but not who it was to.”

He chuckled, probably remembering her assumption that he was a gangster, and she felt uncomfortable. She was acutely aware of his long legs moving beside her, the bare expanses of tanned flesh. As he opened the gate to the fence around the pool, she asked. “Do you ever wear clothes?”

Grinning, he dropped his arms lightly around her shoulders. “It’s too hot today.”

His answer wasn’t reassuring. He held the back screen door open and she entered a high-ceilinged, cool kitchen. She was surprised when a tall, whitehaired woman turned and greeted her, and Cole introduced the woman as Jada Whitehurst, his cook. Jada was the first indication that this might be a normal household.