The Baron (33 page)

But Carol was glad to deal with only the familiar and expected on this bright October morning. She was having trouble getting past her nervousness, a growing sense of unease that had haunted her since the night that eerie dream became yet another reason for sleeplessness. This is just new-job jitters, she assured herself. It’s only the move and all. Calm down, Lawson.

What saved her was knowing that on the outside, at least, she looked perfectly calm. In a slim silk suit and a tailored blouse, her pale blond hair falling in an elegant sweep against her cheeks, she
looked like
the new assistant manager in charge of guest relations. She had worked long and hard for the promotion to that title, and she intended to use it to her best advantage. That was what life was all about, wasn’t it? Careful planning that got you what you wanted … what you had to have. This time she would do it right. Never again would she be forced to make the kind of decision she’d made nine years earlier. She shivered.
It would be nine years on October twenty-fifth. The date was seared into her heart, a scar that wouldn’t heal.

Quickly she pushed her private thoughts aside and readied a smile for the general manager’s approach. “Good morning, Mr. LeGrand.”

“Good morning, Ms. Lawson. I wanted to welcome you again and make certain everything is satisfactory in your department. I’m impressed that you came in last night, a commendable idea. And I also like your plan to staff the concierge desk yourself while Louise is on vacation. I think you’ll find our guests are quite discriminating and can be … let us say, quite demanding.”

“That is exactly why I enjoy working for PalmResorts. And this will give me the chance to familiarize myself with procedures and determine what changes I might like to make.”

“Good. Please feel free to call me if you should run into any problems—”

“Thank you, but I’m sure there won’t
be
any problems.”

And then he left her alone.

“All right. Here I go,” she whispered, lifting the blond, silken shock of hair off of her neck to let the air-conditioning cool her flushed skin. She slid into the chair behind the huge mahogany concierge desk. It faced the entrance to the lobby where wide glass doors framed a vista of cacti and mesas. To her right was the reception area, behind her the glass display cases. Her eyes were drawn that way, to where the
shadows had hidden the dark-eyed stranger, and again she felt that unexpected tingle of excitement play across her skin. She pushed it away and got to work.

By the time the phone rang for the first time, she was ready for anything.

“Good morning. Concierge desk, may I help you? Yes, Mrs. Kern, the Jeep tours will be ready to go at nine. Your driver will meet you here at my desk.…

“Good morning.” Another bright smile. “Yes, all the arrangements are made for your trail rides. The wrangler will pick you up out front. Look for a red van.…

“Good morning! Yes, I arranged for an afternoon tour of Sedona.…

“Good morning, Mrs. Watson. Yes, I have a driver coming to get you at exactly one-fifteen, and I reconfirmed your husband’s one o’clock tee-off time. And then I have you both scheduled for the five o’clock sunset Jeep tour.… Yes, that can include a bottle of champagne if you would like. No problem at all. You’re very welcome.”

She was just catching her breath, and catching up on the paperwork and billing, when the phone rang again at ten. Dr. Marcus in suite 22 wanted a Jeep tour at eleven.

“We keep missing the morning tours at nine,” he apologized. “Just can’t seem to roll out of bed that early on vacation. See what you can do and get back to me, okay?”

But checking and rechecking all the company brochures didn’t do a bit of good. Reluctantly she dialed
suite 22. “Dr. Marcus, I’m afraid there are no tours scheduled at that time. There is an afternoon trip, with space available, at one-thirty. Can I book you and your wife on that tour?”

“That’s not going to work for us. We have a three o’clock tee-off time. Can you work something out, maybe a private tour? My wife’s really counting on this. Why don’t you check on it and call me back, okay?”

“Of course. I’d be happy to.”

After ten minutes of pleading with four different companies, she was steeling herself for Dr. Marcus’s displeasure. There was only one possibility left. She dialed, and this time she got lucky.

“Great!” She smiled, straightening the pile of paper on her desk, running a polished pink nail along the edges as she talked. “Oh, I don’t care if he’s a regular driver or not, as long as he’s good and
available
. Have him here by eleven. Tell him to ask for Lawson. Thanks.”

She called the doctor with her good news, then settled back to work. She had almost cleared off her desk when a dark shadow fell across the smooth mahogany top. Before she could look up, she sensed his presence, and then there was this voice, low and husky, lifting goose bumps along her arms.

“Lonesome?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes meeting his dark, piercing gaze. He startled her, and stole her breath away. “Pardon me?” she whispered.

“I was told to ask for Lonesome. I guess that’s you. I didn’t think we’d be meeting again so soon.”

It took Carol less than a heartbeat to realize that this tall, gorgeous man with the brash grin was the one she’d met at midnight.

He stood there, watching her in return, waiting for an answer … or was it a reaction? His own face, half-hidden by the brim of his Stetson, didn’t give away a thing.

Keeping her voice absolutely neutral, she masked her emotions and stood, offering her hand. “My name is Lawson. Carol Lawson. And you are?”

“Cody Briggs,” he answered, taking her hand. “Mesa Tours sent me.”

His tone was cool, but his touch sent an unexpected heat racing along her nerves.

Carol drew her hand away but held her gaze steady. She’d have to watch herself with this man … which would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so damn good to look at. He was incredibly handsome in a hard, sexy, dangerous way. The danger was what she felt most, a quick tightening of her stomach, an urge to run. Even as the thought crossed
her
mind, his muscles seemed to tense.

Carol’s eyes widened. He was reading her thoughts! She could see herself mirrored in the black depths of his eyes, and it was as if he were drawing her in, closer and closer, until that dark gaze could pierce her very soul.

Carol sat back down behind the comforting wall of her desk. Picking up a pencil, she tapped it on the
reservation book. “So, you’re here for my special tour. Give me a minute to finish up this reservation slip and I’ll fill you in on the details.”

“Fill me in?” Cody laughed, annoyance roughing the sound. “Don’t bother. The only thing I need to know is their names. I make up the rest as I go.”

Carol bristled. “Well, that’s fine as long as the guest gets what he wants—”

“Satisfaction guaranteed.” Cody’s dark eyes were unreadable, but there was a hint of something there, flickering like a flame in the darkness.

He hadn’t meant to be so brusk, hadn’t planned on it. But he hadn’t planned on her either. She’d lingered at the edge of his consciousness all night and all morning. Those eyes, that face … he saw them in his sleep. But there was something else, something more. When their eyes met, he felt naked, raw. His body grew hard and hot. All because of one glance from a woman who was trying to tell him how to do his job.

The way he was looking at her made Carol’s throat tighten in fear … or excitement. Neither was acceptable at the moment. Turning the pencil end over end, she surreptitiously slid her gaze up and down his tall, muscled frame. He was wearing an ankle-length canvas duster, cowboy boots, tight, worn jeans with a holster of some kind on his hip, and a red bandanna tied loosely around his neck. He looked a little too wild for the Ocotillo. And the way he stood there, thumbs hooked in his belt, arrogant, impatient—

“Want me to turn around so you can get a better look?” Cody drawled.

“Not at all.” She didn’t know if it was his cowboy good looks or his attitude that had her momentarily nonplussed, but neither was going to get the best of her. She could send him away. All she had to decide was whether she wanted to face a disappointed guest.

Cody rocked back on his heels. “Well?” He nodded toward the phone. “The meter’s running.”

With a chilly smile Carol folded her hands on her desk. “Your boss said you’re not the regular guide. Have you done this before?”

Cody looked at her from under the brim of his hat as if he were actually deciding whether or not to answer. Then he shrugged; a whiplike flicker of a grin touched his lips and lit his eyes. “Yup.”

Carol waited for more of an explanation, but none was forthcoming. Now, however, she was on her own turf. Crossing her long legs, she asked calmly, “Is there a route y’all follow, some normal tour with specified stops and things? I was looking at the brochures and noticed that they all go to Horseshoe Canyon, and Lost Gulch—”

Cody held out the keys. “You want to drive? No? Fine, then stop worrying. I’ll give them a tour they won’t forget, I promise. Just send them outside; I’ll be waiting in the Jeep. And, Lonesome, anytime you want to check up on me, just book a tour.”

Without another word he turned and strode out the door, duster billowing and spurs jangling. Carol stared after him for a long moment, then pushed her
hair back from her face. Her nerves jumped. He might be gorgeous, but he was one arrogant son-of-a-gun. Then why did his shadow still linger on her like a touch? Why did it beckon her to follow?

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Carol pulled herself together. Smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt and the tremor out of her voice, she called Dr. Marcus and went on with her work.

At two forty-five the doctor tore through the front door and headed straight for Carol’s desk.

Carol braced herself. All through lunch she’d regretted her decision to let Cody Briggs take her guests out. She had sensed danger; she should have taken a firmer stand. Now she was going to get chewed out for that man’s incompetence—

“Ms. Lawson,” the doctor said, slapping a hand onto her desk. “That was incredible. I cannot thank you enough. I mean, that was more than a tour, it was an amazing … no, an
enlightening
experience. Thank you for finding us such a fascinating guide.”

Carol sat openmouthed for a second when he was gone, then looked across the lobby. Cody Briggs was leaning casually against the glass wall near the front entrance, his shirt unbuttoned at the neck, sleeves rolled over tanned forearms, his bandanna rolled and tied around his forehead as if he were some Indian warrior. He’d been waiting for her to look up. Now he stared back at her, one dark brow climbing slightly, an I-told-you-so grin on his face. When he touched
two fingers to the brim of his hat in mock salute, Carol’s blood reached a boil.

The pencil snapped in her fingers, the sound echoing like a gunshot around the quiet lobby. Heads turned. Mortified, Carol glanced down, then up again as if to place the blame squarely where it belonged, on Cody’s broad shoulders. But in that instant he’d left.

“So, Lonesome, how’d I do?”

Cody’s voice broke the silence of the twilit hotel garden, startling her. He wasn’t certain why he’d made the special effort to be there, to speak to her, but forces that Cody respected seemed to want it to happen. All afternoon an inner voice had whispered her name, and her face had haunted him.

Now Carol’s blue eyes were flashing. She hadn’t seen him standing there among the long, swaying arms of the ocotillo; he seemed to materialize out of nowhere. “You frightened me.”

“Yeah. I often have that effect on people,” he said softly, responding to her anger. “Sorry.”

She barely registered his apology, she was so busy trying not to stare at him. In jeans and a T-shirt, his bronzed skin glowing in the dusk, he looked impossibly cool and powerful, untouched by heat or dust or weariness. She felt the strangest urge to run a fingertip
along the curve of muscle in his arm and down his strong forearm with its fine dark hair. Every time she was near him, her guard, which she had fine-tuned over the last nine years, seemed to crumble. It made her very nervous.

“Forget it.” She shrugged, feeling her silk blouse cling to the dampness at her breasts and shoulders. “I overreacted. I’m tired and hot, that’s all.”

Without warning, Cody reached out and brushed a damp strand of her hair back from her face. Against his dark skin, the paleness of her hair seemed to glow like fairy light. It sifted through his fingers like the pollen of a thousand flowers. He frowned at the unexpected pleasure he was feeling, at the surge of desire that heated his loins, but he was unwilling or unable to take his hand away. Finally he mastered himself. His hand dropped to his side. “It’s the desert. You’ll get used to it.”

The sound of his voice woke her from the trance his touch had evoked. “Of course.” She laughed shakily, struggling for composure. “I know I will. There’s just so much that’s different here.”

“
Everything’s
different here.”