Desert Devil

  Desert Devil

  By

  Rena McKay

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Then She Saw Him.

  He was leaning against a boulder, naked to the waist, arms crossed against his powerful chest. Sculptured shoulder muscles tapered down to a hard, flat waist, lean hips and moulded thighs. He moved, and the muscles rippled under the sheen of bronzed skin.

  Juli lifted her eyes to the lean face. There was something satanic about the faint, sardonic smile. The sinking sun played shadows like firelight across his skin, shadowing his eyes as he turned toward her.

  "I knew we would meet again," he said slowly, "but I didn't realize it would be so soon."

  RENA McKAY is an American writer currently living in the far West. The setting for her well-focused novels reflect her love for her native country and add an extra dimension to her sensitive and finely drawn characters.

  Dear Reader,

  Silhouette Romances is an exciting new publishing series, dedicated to bringing you the very best in contemporary romantic fiction from the very finest writers. Our stories and our heroines will give you all you want from romantic fiction.

  Also, you play an important part in our future plans for Silhouette Romances. We welcome any suggestions or comments on our books, which should be sent to the address below.

  So enjoy this book and all the wonderful romances from Silhouette. They're for you!

  Elaine Shelley

  Silhouette Books

  PO Box 703

  Dunton Green

  Sevenoaks

  Kent

  TN13 2YE

  Copyright © 1981 by Rena McKay

  First printing 1982

  ISBN 0 340 27672 X

  Chapter One

  Juli Townsend's little car shuddered as another of the big trucks roared by on the narrow, two-lane highway. She gripped the steering wheel with the unhappy feeling that at any moment she might find herself impaled on one of the thorny cactus plants crowding in on the dark ribbon of highway. She caught a brief glimpse of the name TAYLOR ELECTRONICS emblazoned on the side of the trailer, and she made an angry mental note to tell Mr. T. J. Taylor exactly what she thought of his truck drivers when she saw him. Among a few other things she intended to tell him, she thought determinedly.

  The road topped a small rise and then the town of Cholla, Arizona, was spread out below her, looking somehow insignificant surrounded by the sprawling, barren miles of flat desert and the jagged blue silhouette of mountains in the far distance. At the edge of the road was a large green sign announcing that Cholla was the home of Taylor Electronics, plus a brief statement proclaiming that the company was bringing jobs, progress, and prosperity to the area. A large map showed the way through town to the company grounds, though that was hardly necessary since the bulky, tan-colored buildings dominated the northeastern section of the small town.

  The town was quite distinctly divided into two areas, Juli noted as the car descended the gradual incline and crossed a bridge over a totally dry riverbed. The old section looked a little dilapidated, with faded stucco buildings and straggling fences, but the streets were pleasantly shaded with cottonwoods and an occasional palm tree. The new section had a bustling shopping center and row after row of bare, new-looking houses on streets that simply plunged out into the desert and stopped abruptly among the dry shrubs and cactus.

  Juli glanced at her watch. Almost twelve o'clock. She had intended to arrive in Cholla in time to locate David's trailer and freshen up before keeping her one o'clock appointment with Mr. Taylor, but a broken fan belt on the car's engine had delayed her. Now she decided she would simply grab a bite of lunch and go directly to the appointment. She'd had several days on the road in which to decide exactly what she wanted to say to Mr. Taylor, and she thought she had it all letter-perfect by now. She would be courteous, but firm. Tactful, but resolute. Reasonable, but shrewd.

  And if that didn't work, she thought grimly, she would simply accuse Mr. T. J. Taylor of cheating and theft and tell him David's mother intended to sue for every cent the company was worth.

  She stopped at a small but clean little Spanish-style restaurant in the older section of town and had a deliciously spicy cheese enchilada and green salad for lunch. She inquired about directions to Reynaldo Road, where David's trailer was located, and decided she should have no trouble finding it later. After lunch she freshened her light makeup in the ladies' room, and a few minutes later confidently parked her car in Taylor Electronics' spacious parking lot.

  Up close the tan-colored buildings looked even larger and bulkier than they had from a distance. A discreet sign pointed to the office, a smaller two-story, tile-roofed building set off by itself. It was tastefully landscaped with red cinder rock and a variety of desert plants. Everything looked almost scrupulously neat, Juli noted. No noisy machinery, no billows of smoke polluting the cloudless desert sky.

  The midday February sunshine actually felt hot on Juli's back as she crossed the parking lot. She marveled to think that only a few days ago she had been sloshing through ice and snow back in Ohio. She opened the heavy glass door and walked up to the reception desk. A dark-haired young woman rose to meet her.

  Juli gave her name. "I have a one o'clock appointment with Mr. Taylor," she added.

  The girl checked a calendar on her desk. "Yes. Would you come this way, please?"

  She indicated a low swinging door at the end of the desk, and Juli followed her through the rows of desks and across the large room. The room was not noisy, and yet it had the steady hum of busy typewriters, low voices, and whirring office machinery that indicated an efficient, smoothly running organization. The girl stopped at a closed door marked CONFERENCE ROOM; opened it, and stood aside to let Juli enter.

  "Mr. Taylor will be a few minutes late. His noon meeting ran overtime. Would you care for a cup of coffee while you're waiting?"

  Julie started to decline, felt her palms suddenly dampen with nervous perspiration, and nodded affirmatively, instead. The girl said she would return with a cup in a minute.

  Juli paced restlessly around the room trying to quell this sudden explosion of nervousness. Her soft brown hair clung damply to her temples, and her white shell blouse and coral slacks suddenly felt wrinkled and too casual for this businesslike atmosphere. But there was nothing to be nervous about, she reminded herself firmly. She had only to point out to Mr. Taylor that she and her aunt were well aware of the valuable contribution David had made to the company and only wanted what was rightfully his.

  But somehow Juli had not expected an electronics company set out in the middle of the Arizona desert to be quite so intimidating. She had vaguely pictured her cousin David performing his experiments or inventing his strange contraptions in the dusty backroom of some little shop, not working for what was obviously an extremely up-to-date, progressive organization. And yet she knew that vague thought was illogical, of course. Dusty little shops didn't hire brilliant university graduates to run a complete research department.

  And a mere insurance secretary didn't usually have the temerity to demand a conference with a company president, either, she suddenly thought shakily.

  The girl returned with coffee and packets of powdered cream and sugar. She assured Juli that Mr. Taylor would be with her as soon as possible. Juli thanked her and perched on the edge of a russet-colored sofa to sip her coffee. A real leather sofa, she noted as she ran a finger lightly over the glove-soft surface. Taylor Electronics obviously did not
go in for cheap imitations. No doubt they could afford the best, she reminded herself grimly, if they were in the habit of cheating their employees, as David's last letter had certainly seemed to indicate.

  Coffee cup in hand, she rose and wandered around the room again. With the comfortable sofa, several easy chairs, lamps, and a big coffee table, the room looked more like a living room than a formal conference room. The window looked out on a small, louver-enclosed area of green vines and shrubs. Turning restlessly, she walked toward a far wall on which hung several enlarged color prints of what was evidently the Taylor Electronics plant when it was under construction. An artist's conception of the completed project showed the company evidently planned further expansion sometime in the future. Then her attention was drawn to a framed photograph of a distinguished-looking, silvery-haired man. A small brass plaque on the frame identified him as Thomas J. Taylor.

  Julie inspected the photograph and suddenly felt reassured. Thomas J. Taylor looked competent and businesslike, but certainly neither unkind nor dishonest. There was a hint of good humor in the crinkled lines around his eyes and mouth. He surely wouldn't be unfeeling about the problems of a crippled widow, dependent primarily on her only son for support, Juli decided. She mentally revised her plans to include a greater appeal to his sympathies.

  Juli heard the door open and she turned expectantly. But the tall man whose broad shoulders filled the doorway was not the silvery-haired gentleman she had expected to see. This man appeared to be in his early thirties. His thick brown hair had a glint of bronze, and his lean, handsome face was deeply tanned. He wore a well-cut gray suit and gave a general impression of rugged elegance. One tanned hand carried a manila file folder. As he closed the door and strode toward her, Juli had the uneasy impression his remote gray-green eyes held a hint of contemptuous mockery. There was nothing but expressionless cool courtesy in his voice when he spoke, however.

  "Miss Townsend?"

  Juli's momentary feeling of reassurance evaporated like a drop of water sizzling under desert sun. This man's manner was one of steely reserve, and Juli knew instantly that an appeal to his sympathies would be useless. She had the unnerving feeling that his appraising look boldly traveling over her classified her as attractive and then dismissed that fact as immaterial to the business at hand. He sat lightly on the arm of an easy chair and flicked open the file folder with a well-shaped hand.

  "I have your letter here—" he began.

  His voice held a hint of the same contempt his eyes had revealed, and Juli's nervousness suddenly changed to anger. She had made an appointment with the president of the company, and she did not intend to discuss this matter with anyone but the president himself. Certainly not with this man, whose coolly superior manner she found both infuriating and intimidating. She set her coffee cup down and straightened her shoulders.

  "I'd rather wait and talk to Mr. Taylor personally," she said, matching his coolness as her blue eyes lifted to meet his gray-green ones defiantly.

  He lifted a dark eyebrow. "I am Mr. Taylor."

  "You are? But I thought—" The dismayed words popped out before Juli could stop them, and her glance flew to the portrait of the silvery-haired gentleman.

  His glance followed hers. "My father," he said briefly, "founder of the company. He died of a heart attack about six years ago, just after we moved the plant out here from Phoenix. I am Thorne Taylor, president of Taylor Electronics."

  Thorne Taylor. The T. J. Taylor of her letter, who was definitely not the stern but kindly looking gentleman in the photograph. "I'm sorry," Juli began, flustered. "I didn't know—"

  "Sorry about my father's death? Or sorry to find that I am company president?"

  His mocking voice taunted her, flustering her even further. She twisted the strap of her purse nervously and looked away from those disturbing gray-green eyes as she struggled to regain her composure. Why was he doing this? she wondered angrily. Somehow he had managed to put her on the defensive with that unexpected and totally uncalled-for remark. Which was probably exactly what he intended to do, she realized. No wonder David had been so suspicious of him.

  Juli took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about your father, of course." Struggling to reverse their positions and put him on the defensive, she added, "It must have been very difficult for you taking over the responsibilities and management of the company when you were so young." She managed to inject a slightly condescending note into her voice, as if she could forgive his behavior because of his youth. A moment later she regretted her remark.

  "I don't think you are in any position to make disparaging remarks about youth," he said softly as he leaned toward her slightly, his eyes taking in her fair skin and shoulder length, wavy brown hair, which she had long since despaired of ever looking sleek and sophisticated.

  "I'm twenty-two!" Juli flared. Then she bit her lip, angry that she was on the defensive again, shouting out her age like some pouting child. She took another deep, shaky breath. This wasn't going the way she had planned at all. She started again. "I made this appointment with you because I am representing my aunt, Katherine Flynn. Her son, David Flynn, was employed by Taylor Electronics until his death a little over two months ago."

  Thorne Taylor just sat there eyeing her reflectively, waiting for her to go on. He obviously did not intend to say or do anything to make this interview any easier for her.

  "David had been working for you for several years, I believe—"

  "Two," he cut in.

  Juli ignored the interruption. "David, as head of your research department—"

  "David Flynn was not head of the research department at Taylor Electronics," Thorne Taylor said flatly. "That position belongs to Dr. Richard Johnson, who has held it for almost five years."

  Juli looked at him with a mixture of doubt and dismay. She was sure Aunt Kate had said David was head of the department. But she must have been mistaken. She tried to keep the discrepancy from disrupting what she wanted to say.

  "I'm sure you'll recall that David had a brilliant university record. He also held patents on some improvements he had made in the electronics field." Under Thorne Taylor's steady gaze, Juli's voice wavered lamely. "Some… some tubes or something, I think it was."

  Thorne Taylor flipped the file open again. Looking at the top page upside down, Juli recognized the last letter she had written requesting this appointment. His head was down as he studied the letter. His eyelashes, she noted irrelevantly, were the same color as his hair, rich brown glinted with bronze.

  "Just what is it you are getting at, Miss Townsend?" Thorne Taylor asked abruptly, his voice almost dangerously polite. He glanced up sharply, catching Juli studying him, and she felt a tinge of pink warm her cheeks.

  For a moment the impact of those gray-green eyes sent her carefully planned speech spinning. She clutched at it wildly. "I just wanted—what I mean is—"

  She swallowed convulsively and concentrated her gaze on the safety of the walnut paneling on the opposite wall. "My aunt and I happen to know that shortly before his death, David had just discovered or… or invented something of considerable value to the company. He seemed to think—" Juli hesitated, disliking the tentative sound of that. More firmly, she added, "He was certain his invention would be worth a great deal of money. In fact, he was already planning to bring his mother out here to live. Since he is now dead, it would seem only fair that his mother be awarded whatever monetary considerations were involved."

  "I see."

  Out of the corner of her eyes she saw his head tilt to study the file, and she dared to look at him again. His build, though powerful, was lean and trim, without an ounce of excess fat. He had fine lines radiating from the corners of his eyes like his father, but his had the look of the outdoorsman accustomed to gazing over wide expanses of desert space. This would have been much easier, she thought unhappily, if she really could have talked to the stern but kindly looking elder Mr. Taylor.

  "Miss Townsend," Thorne Taylor began, clos
ing the file again, "you should be aware that anything David 'discovered or invented' on company time belongs to the company. I'm sure we have a signed agreement to that effect."

  Juli bit her lip. She had wondered about that, too, of course, but David's final letter had been so emphatic in saying that Taylor wouldn't be able to cheat him this time. "I believe David had done something to protect his interests," she finally said hesitantly. "And his mother's," she added.

  Thorne Taylor leaned over and pressed a button on the wall. A moment later a tawny-haired young woman about Juli's age appeared carrying a steno notebook.

  "Would you get David Flynn's personnel folder for me, please?" he requested. "It is probably in the inactive file by now."

  The young woman nodded, her eyes darting curiously to Juli, then returning to Thorne. There was something oddly melting about the way she looked at him, and with sudden intuition Juli suspected the young woman's feelings for her boss were not strictly secretarial. Which wasn't surprising, Juli thought grudgingly. He was attractive. More than attractive, she thought even more reluctantly. He had a certain raw masculinity, a primitive virility that seemed only thinly veiled by the business suit and well-groomed hands and hair. There was a strength and litheness to his movements that suggested power held under taut control, an intensity in those gray-green eyes that hinted at fiery depths of passion under different circumstances.

  And that was certainly a strange turn for her thoughts to be taking, Juli thought shakily, suddenly horrified with herself. She had come here to see that justice was done to her Aunt Kate, not to react like some star-struck adolescent to the first attractive man she met, particularly a man whose attraction was so purely and blatantly physical.

  "This may take a few minutes," Thorne Taylor said. Dryly, he added, "We keep most of our records on computer, of course. But I presume you'll want to see our agreement with your cousin in his own handwriting."