The Best is Yet to Come Part 5

"It will get easier," he promised early on their third day at the motel. "Just do the best you can with it. When we get back to Albany, I'll commandeer someone from the typing pool to help you. It's been like this ever since Mary quit. She'd been with me for ten years, and she knew every facet of the business. It would be difficult for anyone to step into her shoes immediately, so don't feel threatened. Okay?"

She smiled with pure relief. "Okay. I was beginning to feel a little inadequate."

"You're not. Your typing is above average, and your shorthand is admirable, if unorthodox." He chuckled. "We'll get by. Want to go out and see a ghost town tomorrow?"

"Could we?" she exclaimed. "Will we have time?"

"As hard as you've worked, we'll make time." He checked his watch and grimaced. "G.o.d, I forgot, I've got a meeting at the bank. I'll have to rush. Have room service send something up for you, and stay by the phone. I've got a call in to a colleague in London. Take a message if he calls."

"I'll do that." She watched him leave, fascinated by his seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy. He left her breathless with his pace. All the same, it was an exciting, challenging job, and she knew she wouldn't tire of it soon.

The next afternoon, after lunch, he packed her and a cooler of soft drinks into the car and set off toward the north. Both of them were dressed in jeans and boots, and he'd insisted that she take a hat along because of the heat, even at this time of year. She sat next to him in the four-wheel-drive vehicle and smiled at the way they matched, he in his chambray s.h.i.+rt and she in hers, both pale blue. But she had a jaunty red scarf around her neck, and he'd forgone that touch of Western Americana. It was much too warm for jackets, and she knew that the long-sleeved s.h.i.+rts were to protect them from sunburn rather than cold.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Off the beaten path," he replied. "You won't find this place on any of the tourist maps. It's an old silver mine that belonged to one of Hank's ancestors. I told him that I was going to tour you through a few ghost towns, and he suggested I bring you here. He gave me the key to the gate."

"That was nice of him," she said, smiling.

"Hank's not immune to women," he remarked, glancing at her with a faint chuckle. "You charmed him."

Her dark eyes widened. "But, I hardly spoke to him," she protested.

"You don't know how potent you are, do you?" he asked, a faint edge on his deep voice. "I've never known a woman so unaware of her own gifts."

She could have told him that Ben had made her that way, finding fault eventually with everything about her. But she didn't say it.

"There were lots of mines in Arizona, weren't there?" she asked.

"Were, and still are," he agreed. "One of the most famous old ones is the Silver King near Superior."

"Wasn't Tombstone originally the site of a silver strike?"

He laughed. "That's right."

"I started reading up on Arizona when you said we were going to come here," she confessed. "But nothing I read prepared me for what I saw. It's like another world out here."

He followed her rapt gaze to the jagged mountains in the distance. "I felt the same way the first time I saw it," he said. "It's an unexpected country. Nothing like back East."

"But so beautiful," she said fervently.

"And deadly. When we get there, make sure you stick to me like glue. You can fall into a mine shaft out here so quickly it isn't funny."

Her eyes mirrored her fear. "You're joking, aren't you?"

"I am not. There are towns around here with buildings that have s.h.i.+fted over the years because of the number of tunnels under them. They have a habit of collapsing. And, yes, people have fallen into abandoned mine shafts."

She s.h.i.+vered, wrapping her thin arms around her body. "What a horrible fate."

"You'll be fine as long as you don't wander around indiscriminately." He glanced her way and smiled. "I'll take care of you, little one."

Her heart jumped. He sounded protective and tender all at once, and she felt herself melting inside. She had to be careful not to give in, not to show how she felt. But it wasn't going to be easy. Just sitting next to him made her tingle all over.

"There are rattlers around, too, so watch where you put your feet."

"Just like back home," she reminded him, tongue-in-cheek.

"Point taken."

A few miles down the highway, he pulled off onto a dirt road and drove to a locked gate. The key Hank had given him unlocked a big padlock that held together the ends of a heavy chain. He refastened it before he continued down the rutted road to a valley that fronted the site of a mine. Tunnels in the mountains told their own stories. There was a stone foundation and a few adobe walls, attesting to the former site of the main office, and the remnants of houses and a smelter.

The wind seemed to blow constantly. She walked beside Ryder, feeling somehow insignificant in this vast nothingness. The ruins were like a reminder that nothing really lasted, least of all people. She took a deep breath of the air and closed her eyes. She could almost hear voices.

"Daydreaming?" he teased.

She shrugged, opening her eyes with a smile. "Just listening to the ghosts. I'll bet they could tell some stories."

"I don't doubt that."

"All those people who worked here, who lived here," she began, bypa.s.sing a row of unconnected stone steps to stare up at the mines, "they're dead now. It seems so useless somehow, Ryder. What was it all for?"

"They were prospecting for dreams, I imagine," he said, and for a moment, his eyes were dark with hunger as he looked at her profile. "G.o.d knows, some dreams are worth any price."

"Are they?" she murmured absently. She stretched lazily. "I'm starved!"

He chuckled. "That's my line. I'll get the basket."

He went back to the four-wheel-drive, and, minutes later, they were feasting on cold cuts and salad off of paper plates, was.h.i.+ng it all down with cold soft drinks from the cooler.

"Paradise," she sighed, smiling across at him. They were sitting on the stone steps, using a wall of the foundation for a makes.h.i.+ft table. Around them, the sun shone brightly and the wind blew. "I'll bet people had picnics here back when the mine was worked. Children probably played on those big boulders," she gestured toward them, "and women walked up from the settlement to shop at the store."

"Store?" he asked, frowning.

"Oh, they had to have one," she said with conviction. "This far from any settlement, with the men at work in the mines, there had to be a store where women could buy cloth and flour and coffee and sugar. There were probably other kinds of places, too. Didn't Jerome have a brothel and several bars?" she added with a shy glance.

He laughed with pure delight. It had been so long since he'd felt so lighthearted, so at peace with himself and the world. Watching Ivy made him feel whole again. She was beautiful, he thought, from her long black hair to her gentle heart. He'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted her.

"Yes, Jerome had its entertainments," he agreed. "But a small settlement like this with close family ties probably wouldn't have tolerated a brothel."

"You mean, the wives wouldn't," she said, grinning at him.

"Absolutely." He pushed his hat back on his head and studied her blatantly. "You look more relaxed than I've seen you in months."

"You haven't seen me in months," she reminded him with gentle humor. She toyed with a long strand of her hair. "I think getting away from home has helped more than anything," she said, smiling at him. "You've been so good to me, Ryder...."

"I don't want grat.i.tude," he said tersely, looking away toward the cliffs. "I needed an a.s.sistant, you needed a job. It was business."

Her heart fell. She'd hoped for something more than that, but she didn't dare let her disappointment show. What had she expected, anyway, she wondered, when the past had killed any hope of a future between them? Besides, there was Ben and her guilt still standing in the way.

She folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them. "It was still kind of you," she said doggedly. "Mama said I was wasting away. Maybe I was. After...after Ben died, I lost interest in everything."

He took off his wide-brimmed hat and pushed an impatient hand through his thick, dark hair. "I suppose that's natural enough," he said shortly. He glared at her. "But he's dead and you're not. You've wasted enough time trying to live in the past."

That was truer than he knew, but it wasn't because of Ben. It was because she wanted so desperately to go back to that night Ryder had first kissed her, to have a second chance with him. And that was impossible.

She sighed. "Have I?" she mused. She gathered up the refuse and put it into a plastic bag. He put that, and the hamper and cooler, back into the four-wheel-drive while Ivy sat at the bottom of the unattached stone steps and stared out over the beautiful emptiness of the plain that led to the mountain chain.

Ryder came up beside her, frowning slightly as he stared down at her. "No brooding," he chided.

"I wouldn't dare." She smiled gently. "Do we have to go right away?" she asked. "It's so nice here."

"No, we don't have to rush off." He moved to the step above hers and sat down. Then, abruptly, he slid behind her, so that his long legs enveloped hers, his lean hands folding below her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to hold her. "Don't panic," he said when he felt her stiffen. "We'll just sit and watch the wind blow. All right?"

She swallowed. The feel of all that warm strength behind her, around her, was intoxicating and she was afraid of what she might inadvertently reveal about her vulnerability. But it was too sweet to protest.

"All right," she said softly, and forced herself to relax, to let him hold her. Her eyes closed and she let her head rest naturally on his broad chest. Just this one little taste of heaven, she promised, and she'd go back to work without complaint.

She felt his arms contract around her, so that his broad chest and flat stomach were completely against her spine.

"Comfortable?" he asked at her ear, his voice deep and slow in the windy stillness of the valley. They might have been the only two people in the world.

"Oh, yes," she said, her voice hushed because she didn't want to break the spell.

His cheek nuzzled her hair. He felt at peace for the first time in years, without the fierce restlessness that had possessed him for the past few months. She smelled of roses, and he remembered long nights when he'd ached for the feel of her in his arms. Amazing, he thought, that she was letting him hold her. Perhaps she felt the closeness as he did, felt the need for touch in this desolate remnant of the past.

She glanced down at the darkly tanned hands holding her, at the paleness of her own fingers against them. His hands were enormous.

"Your hands are so big," she murmured, touching them delicately, tracing the flat, immaculate nails.

"Yours are elegant," he replied, his deep voice rumbling from the chest so close against her back. "You never studied music, did you?"

"No. I wanted to, but there was never much money. Dad died when I was very young, you know."

"I never knew him. We moved to Albany when you were in grammar school, but there was only you and your mother by then."

"Your family was so good to us," she recalled. "I loved your mother."

"Everyone did," he said quietly. "She was a lady. A real lady."

Her eyes opened and she stared at the changing shades of red and orange and yellow on the bare cliff face, still scarred from mining days past. "Your father always seemed remote, somehow," she said. "Was he?"

"He liked making money," he said, drawing her closer as the wind kicked up and grew cool. "He loved my mother, in his own way. But he hurt her. He was never an affectionate man. Even now, Eve and I are lucky to hear from him at Christmas. He isn't big on family."

She rested her hands on his. "Are you lonely, Ryder?" she asked softly.

His face tautened. He stared down at her long black hair, his blood surging as the feel of her warm body worked on him. "Yes, I'm lonely," he said tersely. "Aren't you? Isn't everybody?"

"I suppose so." She traced one of his deeply tanned fingers to the flat nail, unaware of how sensual a gesture it was until she heard Ryder's breath catch and felt his hands contract under her.

"Careful, honey," he murmured roughly at her ear. "I could misinterpret that."

Her heart skipped. That note in his deep voice was unmistakable. It made her knees weak, and she was glad she was sitting down.

"Could I ask you something?" she queried softly.

"What?"

"Why haven't you ever married?"

His long-fingered hands drew her closer before they slid down to her jean-clad thighs and rested there with easy familiarity. "Marriage is serious business," he said. "I don't believe in divorce."

"You must have...have thought about it," she faltered. She really should protest that intimate touch, but it was intoxicating. Her body was alive as never before.

"Thought about what?" he whispered at her ear, just before his strong teeth caught the lobe and bit it gently.

She gasped audibly. "A...about...marriage," she managed.

"Once, perhaps," he whispered. His hands slid up her thighs and over her flat stomach to come to a hesitant rest underneath her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "You're trembling."

"Well...what do you expect...when you touch me...like that?" she exclaimed hoa.r.s.ely.

"Like this?" he murmured at her ear, and his fingers moved over her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s in a light, teasing touch that made her nipples go hard and sensitive.

"Ryder!" she cried.

"Surely it doesn't shock you?" he asked at her ear, his voice faintly mocking. "You're a widow, after all, not an innocent virgin."

She s.h.i.+vered as his hands pressed suddenly into her taut, swollen flesh, dragging her closer. "I was...that night," she said, burning with pleasure. "You pushed me away...!"

"Yes." That night. He could hear her soft voice pleading, taste her silky skin under his lips, and his body made a sudden involuntary movement. He bit off a curse and released her abruptly, getting to his feet before she had a chance to feel what had happened to him. He turned away, moving up two more steps so that the temptation of her was out of his vision until he could get hold of himself. He could have kicked himself for letting things get out of hand like that. It was too soon. He seemed to lose control the minute he touched her. He was going to have to keep his distance.

Ivy, watching him, didn't understand what was wrong. She was s.h.i.+vering with reaction. She could hardly believe he'd actually touched her like that, except for the evidence of her tingling body. She crossed her arms over her sensitized b.r.e.a.s.t.s and felt the cold biting into her. She hadn't even noticed that it had grown cold because of the warmth of his body so close to hers.

"We'd better get back," he said curtly a minute later. He turned and started toward the Jeep, leaving her to follow. He opened the door for her, but he didn't touch her or even look at her as they got underway.

She felt too unsure of herself to speak, so there was a tense silence all the way back to the motel. Incredible, she thought, that things had gone wrong so quickly. But she was too shy to ask what she'd done or said that had made him so cold. When they reached the motel, he was courteous and polite, and all business. But it didn't escape her notice and he kept a stiff, formal distance between them for the rest of the day.

She knew, because he'd told her once, that he'd gone a long time without a woman. Perhaps it was just proximity, and any reasonably good-looking female would have done. She had to think about it that way and not go chasing rainbows. Ben was dead. She was responsible. She couldn't give in to her need for Ryder, so it was just as well that he hadn't let things go any farther. It wasn't, after all, as if he was in love with her or anything. It was just that same fierce, frightening desire that he'd felt for her when she was still in her teens, arousing an equal, shaming desire in her.

They went home the next day. Ryder dropped Ivy off at her house.

"Can you get in to the office all right tomorrow?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "I'll be there at eight-thirty sharp. And thank you for the trip, too," she added formally, avoiding his gaze. "I enjoyed it."

"Until I spoiled things, you mean," he chided, his face hard, his eyes cold. "Well, it will be easier here. Plenty of people around, to keep me in line."

She stared at him curiously and started to speak.