Valley Of The Vapours: Arkansas Part 3

"That is a gesture of respect," Roarke replied, "but we men never do bow our heads."

"We let you keep a little of your pride," Tisha smiled sweetly. "After all, if we wanted complete subservience, we'd buy a pet."

"That's generous of you," he chuckled. "It's amazing how you've managed to convince yourself that you're doing a man a favour by marrying him when actually the benefits are all on the man's side."

"How do you figure that?" Cold sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"For the price of food, clothing, shelter, and some pocket-money, a man gets a housekeeper, a laundrymaid, a cook, a seamstress, a dishwasher, a mother of his children, a babysitter, a nurse, an errand runner, and a bed partner. The wife also becomes a tax deduction. There are many advantages to marriage," he concluded with a pseudo-serious expression.

"Of all the-!" Tisha sputtered, unable to put her frustration into words.

"I believe in looking at things logically and realistically," Roarke smiled blandly. "You can't deny that those are facts."

"You're impossible!" she raged, rising to her feet to glare at him with impotent anger.

"You started this discussion," he shrugged, the lines deepening around his mouth. "If you don't like the heat, get away from the fire."

"Gladly!" Tisha declared, and stalked out of the room.

Chapter Three.

"WHAT do you know about this Roarke Madison?" Tisha asked sharply, taking her eyes from the road long enough to glance at Blanche. "I imagine he thinks he's a lady-killer."

"So you're interested in my neighbour," the woman's teasing voice answered. "After the way you stalked out of the room yesterday and then refused to let his name enter any conversation, I was beginning to wonder."

"I'm not interested in him the way you mean." Tisha's fingers tightened on the wheel of the car, wis.h.i.+ng it were his throat. "It's simply intelligent to find out all you can about a potential enemy."

"You've formed an entirely wrong impression about Roarke. He's not the domineering womanizer you portray, if you'll excuse the use of an old-fas.h.i.+oned noun," Blanche stated. "He's the most kind and considerate neighbour I've ever known as well as a very talented architect. I'll grant you with his looks and relative wealth, there are any number of women anxious for his company, but I've never pried in his personal life nor he in mine."

"And how do you explain his disgusting statement about wives?" Tisha demanded angrily.

"You did rather invite that, you know. I thought he took your slanderous digs at the male s.e.x with considerable good-nature. There was a certain amount of truth in both your observations."

"He's just like all men-he wants to keep women at home and in the kitchen." A disgusted sigh followed her words as she made the turn on to the highway.

"Don't be downgrading the role of a woman as wife and mother," Blanche scolded gently. "There's nothing more challenging and rewarding than that. A great many women wouldn't be content in any other role."

"I can't believe that you, of all women, should say such a thing!" Tisha declared, her voice sharpening in surprise.

"What do you mean? Me of all women?" her aunt inquired with a half-laugh.

"Well, you've never married. You have a successful career that you made on your own. You're an example for any liberated woman."

"Do you know why I never married, Tish?" asked Blanche suddenly.

"I suppose because you never felt the need or desire to," Tisha shrugged.

"There were a couple of times when I considered it very seriously." Blanche levelly met her niece's curious look. "But I was intelligent enough to realize that I was basically a very selfish person. I didn't want the responsibility that a husband and family would mean. In a sense I was not only selfish but a coward as well. I don't regret my decision and, given the chance, I wouldn't change it. You see, Tisha, it's an individual thing that has nothing to do with being a man or a woman."

"What are you saying? That you're the exception to prove the rule?" Tisha's voice held none of the sharpness and cynicism of earlier as she spoke in a quietly serious tone.

"I'm saying that few people can make that kind of commitment to their career."

"Can I?"

"Do you live to paint?" Blanche asked softly, a burning light creeping into her eyes. "Is art the ultimate goal?"

The ultimate goal? Tisha didn't think she knew what her ultimate goal was. She had not the unique talent of her aunt, a fact she recognized. Without that, she wouldn't find the fulfilment that Blanche knew.

She answered her aunt's question hesitantly but truthfully. "Painting is a hobby for me that I try to earn my living by."

"And it's a hobby that combines very well with married life."

"Now you sound like my father," Tisha accused, softening her words with a smile. "Trying to marry me off for my own good."

"Only to the man you love."

"If there is such a creature." Her laughter added the exclamation point. "It would be terrible if all I met were the Roarke Madisons of this world."

"I wouldn't eliminate Roarke as husband material. I'm certain your failure to fall at his feet has piqued his interest, and you aren't indifferent to him either."

Tisha wrinkled her nose in distaste. "He brings out the worst in me."

"Maybe it's a defense mechanism to keep from being attracted to him," her aunt chided.

"I don't want a man who thinks he's going to be the lord and master over my life!" The defiant tilt of her chin accented the swan-like column of her throat.

"You wouldn't be happy with someone you could walk over either. A little mastery wouldn't be too bad as long as the iron hand was gloved in velvet."

"Blanche, you're as stubborn as my father." There was a resigned shake of her head in the direction of the white lock streaking her aunt's hair. "Are you really trying to pair me off with him?"

"He's my neighbour. I wouldn't exactly like you to declare war on him. It would be much more peaceful if the two of you were friends," Blanche suggested with a twinkle in her eye.

"I'll agree to this much," Tisha compromised, "I won't pick a fight with him."

"That's a beginning," Blanche smiled, glancing out the windows at the cl.u.s.ter of buildings. "You can let me out at this corner. Bath House Row is only a block away."

After dropping her aunt at the corner, Tisha continued through the business district to the repair shop. As she pulled into the drive, the first car she saw was the white sports car belonging to Roarke Madison. Her lips compressed into a tight line as she parked her own car and walked into the office.

"Right on time," Roarke murmured, straightening from his leaning position against a side wall "What are you doing here?" Tisha demanded, forgetting completely her earlier promise that she would not antagonize this man.

"The damage wasn't only to your car," he chided with that hint of laughter in his eyes. "Among other things, I put out a headlight. They've just finished with mine."

"I see," she said grimly, wondering why she had thought he was there to see her. A man in greasy overalls walked into the room and she turned her attention to him.

"Hi, Mac," Roarke greeted him. "This is Miss Caldwell."

The man's gaze slid admiringly over Tisha before it twinkled back to Roarke. "Now I understand why you ran into her. You have some unusual ways of meeting new girls."

A rush of anger coloured her cheeks, but she quickly subdued it. "Here are the keys to my car. It's the blue Mustang."

"It'll be ready in a couple of hours," the man named Mac replied as he accepted the keys, misinterpreting the glitter in her green eyes when she glanced at Roarke. When he turned to leave, Tisha heard the muttered aside he directed at Roarke. "You sure know how to pick them. She's better than the one before and younger, too."

"Are your conquests always such common knowledge?" Tisha hissed the instant they were alone.

"Do you cla.s.sify yourself as one of my conquests?" a lock of sun-bleached hair waved rakishly near his forehead as he tilted his head mockingly towards her.

"I'm glad to say that I don't have that dishonour!"

A coaxing smile appeared on his face. "Would you have preferred that I told the man that we didn't get along? He wouldn't have believed me. What difference does it make what he thinks?"

It shouldn't have made any difference, Tisha admitted to herself as she recognized the logic in his words. "I didn't care for the way he made it sound as if we'd gone to bed together."

She noticed that whenever he attempted to hide a smile, the cleft in his chin became more noticeable.

"You profess to be a liberated woman, yet your morals are decidedly old-fas.h.i.+oned," he mocked.

"At least I can't be accused of being promiscuous," she said with saccharine sweetness. "Unlike you, I don't hop into bed with every man I meet."

"Neither do I," he murmured lazily.

"Don't you?" A finely drawn brow arched doubtingly in his direction.

There was a seductive quality in the way his eyes moved over her face. Her heart skipped a beat at the almost physical caress.

"I haven't been to bed with you," Roarke drawled, adding softly and with deliberate provocation, "yet."

"Oooh!" Tisha's foot stamped the floor in anger before she pivoted around and marched out the door.

But those lithe, superior strides caught up with her in seconds and a hand closed over her arm, jerking her to a halt. "Where are you going?" his laughing voice asked her.

"Anywhere away from you!" she retorted, her head thrown back to look with malevolent dislike into his ruggedly handsome face.

"I was striking matches again. I apologize." The force of his virility masculine charm was focused directly on her.

Her breathing was coming in uneven spurts. "Your apology is not accepted," Tisha declared, trying to twist her arm free of his hold gracefully. "Now, let me go!"

"I promise not to bait you any more," he coaxed, seemingly oblivious to her efforts to get loose as he held her easily.

"You irritate me just by breathing!" she hissed.

"Well, I'm not going to die to prove that I'm sorry," Roarke smiled. "Let's call a truce. After all, we are on neutral ground."

"Are we? I hadn't realized any ground beneath your feet could be cla.s.sified as neutral!" Her eyes flashed up at him before she turned her head away, her toes tapping out a war-beat on the pavement.

"How did you intend to pa.s.s the time waiting for your car?" he asked.

"I certainly don't intend to spend it with you!" Tisha declared, refusing to succ.u.mb to the persuasive sound of his voice. "I'm going to do some sketching. Now will you please let go of my arm?"

His head moved downward in an acknowledging nod. "That's right, you're an artist, aren't you, like your aunt."

"Hardly like Blanche," she corrected automatically. "She's an artist. I dabble in art."

"And I thought I was in the company of a budding genius. You do have the temperament of one," Roarke mocked.

"You can't accuse my aunt of having an artistic temperament. A more good-natured person you're unlikely to meet. So don't pin that label on me."

"Blanche had to be as independent as you are or she wouldn't have succeeded on her own. By the same token, she's a warm and sensitive woman, undoubtedly the side she shows to her family."

"That's the way it should be." Too late Tisha remembered her promise not to argue with this man, but she tried to reconcile herself with the fact that he had deliberately provoked her, which was not wholly true.

"To get back to my original question, where are you going to do your sketching?"

"I thought I'd catch a taxi or bus downtown," she replied in a less abrasive tone.

"Get your sketch pad and whatever else you need and I'll give you a ride," he ordered, a bland smile on his face.

Tisha p.r.i.c.kled at the way he expected her to obey. "If I accept your offer, will you leave me alone then?"

"I'll consider it," his brown eyes twinkled as he released her arm.

"In that much hoped-for event, I'll agree to let you drive me there," Tisha gave in.

"Careful!" his mocking voice called after her as she started to walk to her car, "or you might sound too eager for my company."

"That'll be the day!" she shot back with a bitter laugh.

Minutes later Tisha was inside his car, hugging herself close to the door to keep as much distance between them as was possible. But Roarke seemed to pay no notice as he pulled out into the spa.r.s.e traffic on the street.

"Do you know much about Hot Springs?" he questioned.

"I've been here before," Tisha shrugged, sweeping a strand of her hair over her shoulder in a gesture of indifference.

"Which doesn't mean anything," he concluded. "You've lived in Little Rock all your life, haven't you?"

"Yes," she replied, clipping off the end of the word with her teeth.

"And like most people you never bothered to explore what was in your own back yard, am I right?" He darted her a knowing look.

"If you mean that when Father and I took our vacations, did we come here, then the answer is no," Tisha snapped. "We usually went west or south."

"Then you actually know very little about Hot Springs? Roarke persisted.