Lifeline Echoes (8 page)

"I can't believe I'm going to say this."
Ryan struggled for more oxygen, but found himself inhaling huge
gulps of air that smelled of her, of them. He was an adult, capable
of self-control. But his hands trembled as he straightened her
blouse, covering the parts of her he wasn't finished touching. "We
should stick with the plan for the ride to the high country."

Ryan allowed himself a last heated caress of
her cheek before he stepped back to adjust his own clothing.

****

"Oh." Heat flooded her face. "Sure. Okay."
It took effort to stand on rubberized legs when she slid off the
car. She tried to fasten the buttons of her shirt with fingers that
didn't want to work right.

She didn't want to look up. She was afraid
of what he would see in her eyes, of what she might not see in his.
But Ryan took hold of her hands, squeezing lightly until she looked
up at him.

"Make no mistake, Chicory." His Wyoming
accent wound through a voice thick with the need she saw reflected
in his eyes. "This ain't finished by a long way. But if I make love
to you, it won't be with my car parked in front of your bar and the
majority of churchgoing folk in Orson's Folly noticing when they
pull into that parking lot over there for their Sunday morning
worship."

She began to tingle in all the right places
all over again with his words. His voice held promise and she
shivered with anticipation. Something else was happening here,
something that went beyond physical. On one hand it felt nice. On
the other, it terrified her.

Her smile came slowly. "Poor Brother Bobby
has a hard enough time seeing most of his congregation parked here
Saturday nights." She adjusted her outer blouse with a little
wiggle. Then she met his gaze, glad to find it not quite steady.
"But it would be fun to see the flustered looks, especially from
some of the women who wanted your attention last night." Turning
away from him, she sauntered to the passenger side of the car,
opened the door and climbed in.

****

Ryan stared at Sandy's delicious rear view
until it touched down on the passenger seat of his car. Struck by a
sudden feeling of being addle-brained, he spent a moment trying to
figure out his name, before he half-walked, half-staggered to the
driver's side of his car.

Before he started the car, he laid his hand
on top of her knee. The move felt more intimate than the moment
they'd just shared, and he felt the tremors of Sandy's muscles
beneath his hand.

"Just so we're clear on one thing, Sandy.
Right now, I don't care what any woman in the world thinks except
you." A single thought of another woman nudged at him and he
faltered. Drawing a deep breath, he set the thought aside and
continued speaking. "But I do know firsthand what talk in a small
town can do to a person."

"Yeah, about that," she drawled. "The gossip
boat sailed inside the first year I was here, right after I brought
live entertainment to Valentine's. All it did was bring in more
business. They can't hurt me unless I let them."

"Some would try," he said evenly. "I've been
gone a while but some things—some people—don't change." He squeezed
her knee lightly until she met his look. When he spoke, he was
still reining in his desire. "I do want you, Sandy. More than I've
wanted anyone in my life."

She laughed softly. "That was pretty hard to
miss, Ace." Innocent blue eyes drifted to his lap where he was
still in recovery mode.

"Don't," he whispered, feeling his blood
begin to go south again. "Please. Or I'm not gonna care about
anything but getting you up those stairs and loving you so good you
won't be able to walk after."

She continued to caress him with those eyes,
his biggest weakness.

"For the love of mercy, don't do that!"

Sandy sniffed. "Crippling sex, huh?" Her
smile scorched its way along his nerve endings. "Are you a gambling
man?"

His mouth twitched. "I've been known to
place a bet or two."

A sly, knowing smile curved her lips.
Leaning toward him just enough to give him a view of the valley
leading to her personal Main Street, she spoke in a husky voice.
"Good. Because I see you your crippling sex and I'll raise the
stakes to mind-blowing sex."

Ryan drew a shaky breath. "You aren't going
to make it easy, are you?"

Without saying a word, Sandy held him
captive with her eyes and shook her head slowly.

****

Fingers of pink and gold sunlight reached
from behind wispy clouds to splash the sky above the plains with
vibrant color. The sports car dominated the road, utterly
responsive under Ryan's capable hands. Sandy eyed them hungrily,
those clever hands, and her body sizzled with the memory of his
touch, a flickering ember in the ashes of a blaze not fully
extinguished.

Because she couldn't touch him, she stroked
an appreciative finger along the edge of the leather seat. "This is
a great car. Have you had it long?"

He downshifted on the curve between two low
hills and kicked the speed up a notch, simultaneously shifting in
his seat. "Couple years. Saved her from the scrap yard and brought
her back to life."

Her smile was effortless and she tilted her
head to survey his profile. "So the man has his own talents."

"You have no idea." The mischievous crooked
grin was a hair shy of an outright leer, bumping Sandy's pulse
upward. "But I promise you will."

As they turned onto the long driveway to the
ranch, the sun burst through the window, and shards of
rainbow-colored light danced over them both. Sandy gently captured
the source of the prismatic effect, a tiny crystal angel dangling
from the rearview mirror by a pale blue cord.

"Pretty." She glanced at Ryan to check his
reaction, arching an eyebrow when he studiously showed none. She
released the angel. "And a little . . . unexpected."

Ryan kept his eyes aimed on the driveway. A
muscle worked in his jaw, but he said nothing.

"I don't look at you and think angel." Sandy
threw a teasing glance in his direction. "More like
cowboy-on-the-white-horse hero."

His lips moved upward but the smile never
quite formed. Bringing the car to an abrupt stop in front of the
stable, Ryan set the brake and turned off the engine. He stared
ahead for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision and turned to
Sandy, his face fixed into an enigmatic mask.

"You're mistaken," he said, the words barely
audible. "I'm no one's hero." He reached out toward the angel,
stopped just short of touching her, almost as though the touch
might bring about unspeakable pain. "I put her there to remember
someone."

Jealousy hit, more fierce than anything she
had felt in the bar the night before. Like a welder's spark, it
arced through her and landed in the pit of her stomach. Somehow she
managed to keep her voice even. "Someone you love?"

Just before he smiled, she saw a spasm of
pain shadow his features. "It was heading that way. Heading that
way real strong."

Color rushed into her face. "I'm sorry. I'm
intruding."

Ryan shook his head. "It's okay. She was a
part of my life, but—that was a while ago now. She said she'd be
there and then she just—didn't stick around."

"And yet you want to remember her."

"Yeah." This time Ryan's smile came more
easily. So not all the memories were bad. "Yeah, I do. I owe her
that much. She believed in me, helped me through a bad time and
I'm—grateful."

Sandy swallowed hard past the tightness in
her throat. She didn't know what he'd been going to say but she got
the feeling "grateful" had been a last minute substitution.

He reached for Sandy's hand and held it
gently in his. "I've been thinking of taking her out of here."

In silence, Sandy searched his face. Maybe
not so much in the past as he liked to think. She was still very
much in his heart. So, apparently Ryan hadn’t returned to Orson's
Folly as unattached as the grapevine thought. Maybe not even as
unattached as he thought himself. Didn't it just figure?

"No," she said, warming her voice against
the chill of disappointment that had settled in her heart. She
liked the tenderness she was seeing in his eyes. She touched the
pretty bit of crystal with the tip of her finger, sending it into a
gentle swing. "She's exactly where she should be."

****

Absently stroking his thumb over her
knuckles, Ryan immersed himself in the eyes he found so compelling,
finding he liked what he saw of the woman behind them. He enjoyed
the glimpses she occasionally let him see of the inner beauty
beneath the sexy packaging. Would she understand his feelings for
the angel who had saved his life?

He thought about kissing her, really wanted
to. But his emotions were suddenly raw with thoughts of the past,
and it wouldn't be fair to Sandy. He wasn't certain if, in that
moment, he would be kissing her or the woman who had once given him
the will to live. Nor was he certain which woman he really wanted
to kiss.

No, this wasn't the time or place to indulge
in another kiss. But oh, he did want to; almost more than he wanted
to keep breathing.

He realized she had gone quiet, watching him
intently, and he looked up. In the golden light of early morning,
her features were soft, the innocence in her smile almost angelic.
And her eyes . . . he could spend forever looking into them and see
something different every time.

Ryan gave Sandy's hand a light squeeze.
"Ready? I'll get us a couple of horses. You can load your kitchen
sink pack into a couple of saddlebags."

"You'll appreciate my efforts when lunchtime
comes around," she called after him. "Unless you want me to throw
together some trail mix and you can rustle us up a
rattlesnake."

Ryan kept walking, tossing her a wave and a
thumb's up sign over his shoulder without looking back.

This was going to be one interesting ride .
. . if he could get through it in one piece. He picked his hat off
the peg just inside the tack room, deliberately ignoring the
off-white Stetson in favor of the black.

****

Sandy stood by the bank of windows
overlooking the parking lot. The normally busy freeway beyond was
completely empty, probably impassable at some point and closed
down. Giant angry plumes of smoke rose in the distance, an
appalling beacon marking the place where lives had been lost . . .
where even now life was making a futile attempt to hang on in the
face of impossible odds.

The light above her workstation popped on,
indicating radio activity. "I'm here, Mick."

"Got some time to keep me company?" he
asked.

Sandy looked around the dispatch office,
noting every dispatch station was occupied, every operator talking
and writing. "I've got some time. It's slowing down a bit here,"
she lied.

"Do you know how long we've been down
here?"

Sandy checked her notes, though she knew
without looking how long it had been. "A couple of hours," she
said. "You should turn off your radio, save the battery."

"It'll be all right for a while yet." He was
obviously reluctant to let go of the human contact. "It's black as
pitch down here, Angel. It's disorienting. Knowing you're out there
helps some with that."

"You just stay strong and hold onto me.
We'll get through this together."

"Will you talk a bit?"

"What do you want to talk about?" asked
Sandy.

"What do you do for fun?"

"Mmm, lots of different things. I read just
about anything. Go for walks, watch old movies on video. I do
community theater."

"An actress, huh? You're in the right city
for it."

"Oh, no. I'm not looking to be discovered,"
she assured him. "I can't imagine a worse life than acting for a
living. It's just a fun little storefront group."

"What plays have you been in?"

"I did some Shakespeare in college," she
told him. "Romeo and Juliet, The Taming of the Shrew."

"'Kiss me Kate, we will be married o'
Sunday.'"

"Quoting Shakespeare?" she exclaimed in
delight. "You've managed to completely surprise me."

"Good. I like my women off balance," he
said. "Tell me more."

"Okay, I played Marian the Librarian in the
Music Man last year."

"A musical. So you sing?"

"Just something I dabble at," she
admitted.

"Sing something for me," he pleaded.

"Sure. When you get out you can come see me
in Oliver."

"I don't want to wait. 'If music be the food
of love, play on,'" Mick quoted softly.

Sandy chuckled. "I can see I shouldn't have
told you about singing. Or about Shakespeare." Though she silently
admitted her heart would always melt for someone who could quote
the Bard of Avon so easily.

"Too late. You did. Now you get to
sing."

"You make my head spin," she said, only half
joking. "I'll bet you're a real tornado on a date."

He laughed. "You'll find out. Stop
stalling."

"Okay, let me think. Um, do you like Bette
Midler?"

"Sure."

Sandy looked around the office. The other
operators were engaged, no one was paying attention to her. A
little self-conscious, she quietly sang part of "The Rose."

"I love your voice," he said on a sigh. "I'm
gonna want to hear a lot more of it. Maybe you'll do a private
concert." He chuckled. "Makes me really want to kiss you,
though."

Sandy was already desperately wishing their
meeting could really go somewhere. She'd never felt so easy with a
man before. "Maybe your voice makes me want to kiss you back."

"Tell me more about you," he begged. "I'd
sure like to get to know you, Angel. Get a head start on those
kisses I'm giving you as soon as I get out."