Desert Devil Read online

  Without warning, Thorne's body arced cleanly into the pool, slicing the water with knifelike precision. He came up on the far side of the pool, ducked under again, and came up beside her, so close she felt the brush of his skin against her body. Now he was grinning, his eyes sparkling with a roguish glitter, his manner completely changed, as if he had undergone some underwater transformation. He ran one hand up the smooth, bare curve of her hip. The intimacy of the gesture both shocked and thrilled her, and his devilish eyes told her he knew it.

  "How come you hid yourself in the pool before I got a chance to see you in your bathing suit?" he chided with mock reproach.

  "I'm not hiding," she protested, though she knew it wasn't true.

  "We don't even have to wear suits, you know, if you'd rather not. Once you try swimming in the nude, you'll never want to wear a suit again."

  Juli's lips parted and she stifled a gasp of shock. He laughed, a throaty chuckle, and Juli knew he had said it purposely to shock her. For a moment she thought about recklessly calling his bluff, but the challenge in his eyes made her suddenly afraid it was no bluff. Instead, she dived under the water and swam to the far side of the pool, liking the fresh, clean feel of the water gliding over her skin. But Thorne was too quick for her, and when she came up he was already there, laughing at her. Under the tinted light his skin was copper, his teeth a white flash, and the clinging droplets of water glittered like iridescent jewels on his gleaming skin.

  She went underwater again, twisting and turning, laughing delightedly when she managed to elude him. They chased each other back and forth, above and beneath the water, in and out of the secluded cove at the far end of the pool. But Juli's agility was no match for Thorne's speed and power. Just when she thought she had outmaneuvered him, his hand would reach out and capture her ankle or his arm encircle her waist. Once she ducked around and caught him by the leg, but instead of pulling away as she always did, he somersaulted underwater and came up with his arms around her.

  "Now who caught whom?" he challenged laughingly.

  "I… I'm not sure," Juli gasped. "But I have to rest, or you're going to drown me!"

  They were in the secluded cove behind the boulder. Here the light was only a dim, reflected glow, the water and Thorne's eyes both darkly mysterious. Juli slipped away to the side of the pool and supported herself with elbows draped behind her as she tried to catch her breath.

  He followed, a strong hand on either side of her imprisoning her within the cage of his arms. "If I drown you, it will only be with kisses," he said huskily. His lips showered her wet throat and shoulder with feathery kisses and then moved boldly to the hollow between her breasts.

  Juli caught her breath in a gasp, unable to deny the urgent messages the touch of his lips sent racing through every nerve in her body, messages she found shocking and yet almost irresistibly powerful and demanding. She sucked in her breath and plunged straight down to escape his imprisoning arms, but she was too tired and winded to stay under for more than a few moments. When she came up and grabbed the side of the pool, he swam over beside her again.

  "Why did you do that?" he asked reproachfully.

  She started to make some flippant reply, but the words caught in her throat. The teasing gleam was gone from his eyes now, replaced by something dark and inscrutable. "I… I don't know," she said, almost in a whisper.

  "Don't you like having me touch you?"

  "Yes… no… oh, I don't know! It does something to me…"

  "Something you don't like?"

  "I don't know," she whispered, but that wasn't true. She liked his touch, liked the feel of his skin and lips and the ripple of his muscles and the brush of his crisp hair, exulted in them even as some more sensible part of her mind sent frantic warning signals.

  As they talked some slight motion of the water drifted their bodies closer together, the movement almost imperceptible but somehow inexorable. Like the moth to the flame, she thought tremulously.

  Suddenly his legs reached around hers, catching and holding her by the ankles, molding the underwater halves of their bodies together. She could feel the hard male power of his body, and she knew the times she had ducked and escaped him before were only because he let her go, that there was no escaping him now. The water eddied around them, undulating their bodies in motion together. Thorne didn't speak. He just watched her eyes and she was afraid of what they revealed to his experienced gaze.

  "What are you thinking?" he demanded softly. Above water there was an almost decent distance between them, but beneath the water he still held her in that inescapable grip.

  What was she thinking? Her heart pounded in reply because it wasn't what she was thinking that really seemed important right now; it was what she was feeling in every nerve and muscle of her body. She was feeling dormant, barely acknowledged desires throb to life, desires that were a part of the awakening love she felt for Thorne. And yet there was an uneasy awareness within her that in him those pulsating desires might be quite separate and distinct from love.

  "I… I was thinking that you seemed so… changeable today," she faltered.

  "Changeable?" he repeated. He raised an eyebrow, a cool, almost impersonal gesture that seemed at odds with the way their bodies melded intimately together beneath the water.

  "I don't know…" Juli's voice trailed off helplessly.

  How could she explain it? All day he had seemed so warmly companionable, lightly teasing, but in an affectionate sort of way. She had felt so at ease with him. His kisses at the mountains had been passionate and demanding, but they were also spontaneous and natural, without guise or calculation. Now his expert caresses seemed deliberately calculated to arouse and challenge her. And in between had been that brief but uncomfortable period of remote withdrawal she sensed in him. Why had he invited her here tonight? Did he have something more than a dip and dinner in mind? She knew he did, and she found the thought both frightening and disturbingly alluring.

  "There seem to be a lot of things you 'don't know' tonight," he mocked lightly.

  "When do you expect your mother and Nicole to arrive?" she asked, abruptly trying to change the subject.

  His eyes narrowed. "In a few days," he answered noncommittally. A forefinger played lightly with the strap of her bathing suit, would have slid it off her shoulder if she had not shrugged it back in place. "Do you really want to talk about my mother and former sister-in-law right now?" he asked, his hand still lightly threatening the stability of the strap.

  "Are you afraid to talk about Nicole?" Now it was Juli's turn to challenge.

  "Of course not. It's just that there are subjects that are so much more interesting to discuss." His hand moved up to caress her temple, and his voice was a caress, too. "The way your eyes sparkle. The way your skin feels like satin against my fingertips. The. perfume of your hair and the taste of your lips…"

  His fingers traced the outline of her lips and then his mouth touched hers lightly, like a connoisseur sampling a fine wine. Then the teasing touch deepened to a kiss that sent Juli's senses reeling dizzily, and she would have slipped beneath the water if it were not for the powerful grip of his legs and the arm supporting her. Dimly, from somewhere far off, she heard a voice.

  "Someone—someone is calling!" she gasped.

  He lifted his dark head, scowling at the interruption.

  "Mr. Taylor? Are you still out here? The omelet is almost ready."

  "We'll be in in just a moment, thank you," Thorne called back, nothing in his steady voice betraying the pounding heartbeat Juli could feel in his chest, pressed against her own. His caresses might have been deliberately calculated to arouse her, but he had not remained unaffected himself. He released her from the locked grip of his legs and the water surging around her hips felt almost cool now after the heat of his body.

  "Saved by the bell—the dinner bell," he said lightly with a mocking smile. Pointedly, he added, "Though there is nothing that says we must eat right now."

 
"Omelets toughen as they cool," Juli said shakily. "We should eat it right away."

  "Of course."

  He helped her out of the pool, Juli sharply aware of his eyes roaming over the daring bathing suit, and they went to separate rooms to dress. Juli had brought cream-colored slacks and a silky fuchsia blouse. She refreshed her lipstick and eyeshadow, though her hands were so shaky she had to wipe off smeared lipstick once and start again. She knew her honey tan looked better than any artificial makeup she could put on her skin.

  Thorne was waiting when she stepped outside and they went into the dining room together. Juli caught her breath. This was no casual snack. The only light came from three slim candles in a silver candelabrum. The soft light flickered on creamy damask tablecloth, fine china, and elegant silverware. A corked bottle, half-covered with ice, leaned in a silver bucket nearby. The omelet, higher and fluffier than any Juli had ever made, rested in a nest of parsley. There was a green salad and variety of dressing, plus a small tray of toast triangles. It was basically the same simple meal Juli had planned, yet far more impressively elegant.

  Thorne seated her expertly, then just as expertly uncorked the bottle and poured some of the pale, bubbling liquid into Juli's glass.

  "Champagne?" she gasped, disbelievingly.

  "Of course. Aren't we celebrating a truce? A cessation of hostilities?"

  Was he somehow making fun of her, Juli wondered uneasily, talking about a "truce"? But when he lifted his gracefully curved champagne glass, his tilted head and expression seemed merely questioning about her delay in responding to his gesture.

  Juli lifted her glass. "A… a truce," she agreed tremulously. She sipped the champagne, her feelings a strange mixture of giddiness and pleasure and apprehension. The omelet was delicious, succulent with buttery bits of mushroom and delicately flavored shrimp. The Roquefort dressing for the salad was creamy-rich, the salad greens crisp. Juli let herself luxuriate in the richness of it all, refusing to let herself be upset by the unwanted thought that Thorne's cook, Estelle, was evidently not unaccustomed to whipping up elegant little late dinners for two.

  Now Thorne seemed to have undergone yet another transformation. His conversation jumped lightly from subject to subject. He was full of amusing little anecdotes about the town and company and current events. Juli responded in a similarly light vein, exchanging a bit of amusing repartee with him about women's rights, keeping away from the emotionally and sexually charged atmosphere of the pool.

  And yet in spite of the light, brisk conversation, Juli was aware of a rising tension between them. It was not the tension of anger that so often vibrated between them, however. It was more a tension of anticipation, as if an unknown force were carrying them higher and higher toward some breathless climax.

  Estelle brought dessert and then discreetly retired. It was yet another almost sinfully rich concoction of angel-food cake and fresh strawberries and thick cream. Juli ate hers slowly, partly to savor the lush flavors, partly to postpone the climax toward which the evening seemed inevitably rising. And yet she hardly knew if she put it off because of reluctance or sweet anticipation…

  They finished the dessert and had another glass of champagne. How many had she had? Juli wondered a bit giddily. "I really must be going now," she said finally.

  He eyed her lazily. "Surely you don't intend to eat and run. I thought you might stay… longer."

  Juli felt a small tingle of alarm at that expressive pause between words. His eyes looked lazily heavy-lidded, but behind the relaxed expression she caught a gleam of something else. He didn't really think she was going to stay here all night, did he? She was in love with him. She knew he found her attractive and desirable. She also knew those feelings didn't necessarily balance out, that if something happened between them it would involve her heart, but perhaps only his body. But even if he didn't love her, she was uneasily aware of his expert ability to manipulate her through the treacherous demands of her own body, and in the end it was her heart that could come out the loser.

  Smoothly, as if sensing her doubt and withdrawal, he changed the subject. "Before you go, would you like to see the pictures I took of the sunset the evening you climbed up to the ridge?"

  "Oh, yes, I'd love to," Juli agreed eagerly, relieved. Photography seemed a safe enough subject.

  He led her to another room, a combination home office and den. Along the way he pointed out his darkroom.

  "Brian was telling me that you're quite well known for your desert photography," Juli commented.

  Thorne paused and eyed her reflectively for a moment before ushering her into the den. "Oh, yes, Brian Eames. Have you been seeing much of him?" He sounded disapproving before he even heard her answer.

  "Not really," she said uncomfortably, wishing she hadn't mentioned Brian's name. "He did stop by the trailer one evening for a while."

  Thorne made no comment. The wall switch turned on two lamps, revealing a pleasantly masculine room with a heavy walnut desk and bookshelves, several bronze sculptures of Western art, and a colorful Navajo Indian rug on the floor. The walls were decorated with desert scenes of mountains and cactuses and weathered buildings. A huge sectional sofa upholstered in lush chocolate-colored velvet filled one corner. Within the alcove formed by the corner sections of the sofa, an enormous burl of polished redwood served as a coffee table.

  "Make yourself comfortable." He motioned with a careless wave toward the sofa. "Would you like coffee or something else to drink?"

  "No, thank you." Hands held behind her, Juli wandered around the room, realizing that the pictures which she had at first thought were paintings were actually color photographs, so artistically done that they were art. No wonder, she thought, that he had handed back her sad little attempts at desert photography without comment.

  Now he brought out a sheaf of color photographs, but before showing them to her he casually flicked a switch on a built-in stereo, and the sound of soft Spanish guitars drifted through the room. He set the photographs on the coffee table and sat down beside her on the soft luxury of the sofa.

  The first few photographs were everything Juli had wanted to capture on film but hadn't when she climbed the ridge that other evening. She exclaimed over them, then went on to the next and in surprise saw a human figure among the saguaros in the distance, too far away to be recognizable, except that Juli knew who it was.

  "Oh, look!" she said, laughing. "You caught me in one of your photographs."

  "So I did," he agreed noncommittally.

  In the next photograph she was close enough to be recognizable. Recognizable, too, was a certain determination written on her face as she crawled over a broken slab of boulder blocking her way. But the next photograph was the real shocker.

  There was nothing of the sunset in it, just Juli. She was resting with one foot propped up on a rock, her body half-turned away from the camera as she looked at something in the distance, one hand caught in the gesture of brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. Juli's lips parted and she felt color flood her face. She had no memory of the moment, and yet she looked posed with deliberate provocativeness, thrusting breasts sharply silhouetted, the halter top drooping on one side by the raised position of her arm to expose the inner curve of her breast. There was an embarrassingly impudent thrust to her hips, and even her facial expression, which must have had something to do with the sunset she was watching, looked dreamily sensual.

  "Why, you must have been standing only a few feet away from me!" Juli gasped. "But I don't remember that at all."

  "Telephoto lens," Thorne said laconically.

  "You mean you were deliberately taking photographs of me that I knew nothing about?" she asked, uncertain whether to be angry or flattered, and feeling a little of both. "That's almost like spying!"

  "You were trespassing," he pointed out. "The photographs could have proved that, if it were ever necessary."

  "Oh, come now," Juli scoffed. "You surely didn't think I was climbing up there to sabotage
your house!"

  "You were rather angry at me, as I recall," he reminded, but the devilish gleam in his eyes told her he was only teasing her now.

  "Yes. Well, I've apologized," she said a little awkwardly. "And I really must be going now. I do want to thank you for a lovely day."

  She started to rise, but the pressure of his hand on her arm detained her. It was not a harsh pressure, but neither could it be ignored.

  "Listen to the music," he said softly.

  Reluctantly, and yet held by some force that was stronger than her conscious will, she obeyed. The stereophonic sound from unseen speakers drifted through the room as if borne on a tropical breeze, as real as if softly strumming guitars were all around them. The music was delicate, now sad, now lilting, but always just beneath the surface was something else, a subtly sensual beat to which her pulse began to throb in response. He leaned back, one arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her head against his own shoulder.

  She knew she should pull away, should jump and run, but those sensible messages from her mind had no power over her languid muscles, drugged by the warmth of his body, champagne, and the music. She seemed filled with a floating lassitude that made any conscious movement of her own impossible, not even when she felt Thorne shift their bodies so they were more lying than sitting on the lush sofa. His lips roamed her face, brushing her temples and eyelids, exploring the soft curve of her cheek and the pulsebeat in her throat. Her eyes were half-closed, his face a shadowy blur over her with a strand of dark hair falling across his forehead. The weight of his body, half over hers, was not unpleasant, and when his mouth found hers, her arms moved of their own volition to encircle his neck.