Fires of Paradise Read online

  Lucy and Joanna stood side by side while he jacked up the Duryea. Lucy used the respite to regain control of her emotions. Logic intruded, and with it, a few tiny warning bells went off. Now they were going to have to give him a ride. If anyone ever found out that they had given a stranger a ride ... It would be bad enough if he were a gentleman, but he wasn't, and this was much, much worse. If he could fix the car. Lucy almost hoped that he would fail. Then he would continue on his way—and she and Joanna would be stranded. They could not win. She supposed that giving him a ride was better than being stuck in the middle of the desert with a broken car. She just had to make sure that no one ever found out.

  He had elevated the auto with stones, and now he laid a hand on the nose and pushed. The auto swayed precariously.

  "What are you doing?" Lucy cried.

  The look he shot her made Lucy sorry she'd asked. "You're going to knock it down," she managed.

  "Better it falls now," he said, "or would you rather it crash down on me?"

  He dropped to the ground and shimmied under the auto. She understood and she wanted to protest. He might be a tramp, and a nasty one at that, but she didn't want him crushed beneath her car.

  Joanna nudged Lucy for the fifteenth time. Her blue eyes were wide in her pale face. She mouthed a silent question: What are we going to do?

  Lucy knew Joanna was also just as worried about being stranded out here, in the middle of nowhere, as she was about their "savior." Now it was past five, and in a few hours it would be dark. Even if he fixed the car, then what? Before, when they'd left San Antonio, she had just assumed they'd find a hotel to spend the night in. But now she wasn't sure they were anywhere near a hotel. It appeared that the road to Paradise wasn't the same as the rail route, because didn't she remember passing a few quaint little towns after San Antonio in the years past? Or, come to think of it, were all those white picket fences before San Antonio?

  If he fixed the roadster and they didn't find a hotel—then what? She would have been horrified with the possibilities, so she decided not to think about it and to deal with that problem later.

  He pulled himself out from beneath the auto and rose to his full height. This time Lucy carefully kept her gaze on his left shoulder. "Is it fixed?"

  He eyed her averted profile. "For now."

  Lucy's gaze was drawn to him, met his, was riveted there. "What was wrong?"

  "The axle is broken. It should hold until you can have it fixed properly. Where are you headed?"

  The Duryea was repaired. Lucy hesitated, her mind filled with the new crisis facing her—giving this hard, rough stranger a ride.

  "We're going to Paradise," Joanna ventured shyly from the background.

  He was staring at Lucy so intently that she flushed, sure he could read her thoughts. She couldn't meet his gaze.

  "Planning on welching?"

  He spoke so softly, Lucy wasn't sure she heard him correctly. "What?" "You heard."

  The anger in his tone made her glance quickly at him. "Of course not. I promised you a ride, didn't I?" She attempted a bright smile.

  "Don't look so damn happy about it."

  Her bosom rose. How did she dare go anywhere with this man? She exchanged glances with Joanna. But she wasn't a liar, she always kept her word. She took her friend's elbow. "Let's go."

  "Lucy?" "It's all right."

  "Dammit, just get in the car!" he said from behind them. Joanna obeyed with alacrity. Lucy dug in her heels. "Your manners are questionable!" "Lucy!" Joanna cried in fright. "Really?"

  Lucy regretted her outburst, and turned to get in the roadster. He stopped her by actually grabbing her shoulder. She was stunned.

  "My manners may leave a lot to be desired, but so does your attitude—princess."

  It was intended as a slur—it felt like a slur. "Why are you insulting me?"

  "Did I insult you? No one ever call you 'princess' before? Fancy that! Betcha this is the first time a man didn't swoon and become cow-eyed over you, too."

  Angrily Lucy wrenched free. "Your manners do belong in the slums!"

  "You might say that, princess."

  "I regret promising you a ride!"

  "I'm sure you do." He pulled on his shirt. "Now, get in the car."

  Lucy considered refusing.

  "You can get in under your own steam," he said flatly, "or I can put you in." He meant it. She got in.

  "Paradise." He suddenly grinned, with real humor. "Paradise." He chuckled. "You girls really going to Paradise?"

  Lucy was too angry to respond, but Joanna said, "We're going to the DM."

  Lucy jabbed her hard in the ribs with her elbow. Joanna gasped, and Lucy bit her lip. But she was looking at the stranger, who was staring at them. At her.

  "Fancy that," he drawled. "You two belong to that spread?"

  Joanna didn't dare speak, and Lucy cried quickly, "No!"

  He sort of smiled. He had stopped when Joanna had mentioned her grandfather's ranch, and Lucy felt the knot of fear increasing. What if he made the connection between her and Derek Bragg and kidnapped her for ransom? He cranked up the car, and the engine roared immediately to life. He jumped into the cab, jamming his big body down.

  He smiled at Lucy, baring his white, even teeth. "Just for your information," he said, "Paradise is that way." And he pointed back the way they had come.

  "What?" Lucy cried. "Paradise is north of San Antonio, not south!"

  "That's right," he said. "That way." And he pointed back down the road again.

  "Oh, Lucy! We spent the entire afternoon driving the wrong way!"

  Lucy was red with embarrassment. How had she made such a mistake? The auto was idling and he reached for the tiller. His hand brushed her thigh. Lucy tried to shift away from him, but there was nowhere to go in the cramped front seat.

  They drove away. Mutinously she stared at the endless road ahead. Her anger cooled rapidly. She darted a glance at him, but his expression was inscrutable. He was watching the road, carefully steering. His elbow brushed her arm. She became aware of the length of his thigh from hip to knee pressing against hers.

  All thoughts of their awful predicament temporarily fled. His leg was hard, warm, and big, straining the worn, near-white denim of his Levis. There was a hole on his knee, and soon there would be another rent on his thigh. The fabric was pulled so tightly over his groin, it looked like it might rip asunder at any moment. Quickly Lucy averted her gaze. She tried to remove her body from all contact with his.

  "Stop wriggling," he growled.

  She went very still. God, how had she ever gotten into this mess?

  Lucy's heart was slamming too fast and too hard. She didn't like sitting there next to him, squashed in together like fish bait in a can, much less giving him a ride in the middle of nowhere. With no one else around. No one to help them—if they needed it. How had she ever been so stupid as to promise him a ride? He had practically forced them into the car. What if he did something to them, something terrible? What if he realized who she was, and kidnapped her? What if he was worse than a tramp? What if he was a down-and-out criminal? He looked like an outlaw.

  Lucy had a gun. She had a small, pearl-handled derringer in her purse, and she was a dead shot. Her grandfather had made sure of that. But she was not reassured. On the contrary, to even be thinking about the gun now, to even consider that she might need it to defend herself, fueled her fears. It pointed up just how bad the situation might actually be.

  She and Joanna must escape—tonight.

  She sat, rigid and breathless, scheming. He appeared just as rigid, his mouth pressed in a hard line, his gaze glued to the road with utter concentration. There was no conversation for the next hour. Then the auto suddenly ran out of power and coasted to a halt. He cursed graphically, but both girls were too upset to blush. He got out and began to turn the crank. It started, but when he stepped on the accelerator, there was nothing. The auto rolled an inch or so and then the engine died.

  "Wh
at is it?" Lucy asked, alarmed.

  "Damned if I know."

  Suddenly he gave Lucy a look and went behind the front seat and peered at the fuel tank. "Damn!" "What is it?" "We're out of gasoline."

  "But. .." Lucy started. Slowly she went crimson. "You fill this monster up in San Antone?" Miserably, she shook her head.

  He laughed mirthlessly. Then he reached into the car and withdrew his saddle, hoisting it on his shoulder. He eyed the girls.

  Lucy scrambled out of the car. "Are you going to get fuel?" she demanded. "No, I'm not, princess." "Somehow I didn't think so." "You're learning. Leave your stuff. Let's go." Lucy and Joanna exchanged glances. Joanna needed no encouragement; she nearly leapt from the car. Lucy grabbed the stranger's sleeve to halt him. "How far are we from San Antonio?" Suddenly she was overjoyed and thoroughly relieved—they had been backtracking, so they had to be close to town. Town—where they could get rid of this stranger, find a bed and bath, and take the spur to Paradise tomorrow. He smiled. "We're not."

  "What do you mean? Of course we are! We've been driving for an hour back the way we came!"

  "Don't have much sense of direction, do you?"

  Lucy had enough. She intended to put him in his place, once and for all. ' T was born and raised in New York City on Fifth Avenue." Her tone was superior.

  "Guess that explains just about everything," he said with contempt.

  Somehow, she had lost that round. They stared at each other. Lucy would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her drop her gaze first. As the standoff lengthened, the amusement she saw sparking in his gray eyes riled her. "Where are we?"

  "About eighty miles dead west of San Antone," he drawled. "To make up for lost time, I took a turnoff a ways back. We've been heading straight north, princess, and if you'd been paying attention, you'd know it."

  Lucy backed up a step. Stuck. They were truly stuck, out in the middle of nowhere with this dangerous-looking stranger—and it was almost dark. They both looked up at the dusky sky.

  "Let's go," he said. "We've got another hour of light left.'' Then he smiled. ' 'And whatever it is you're planning, I would think twice about it if I were you."

  Chapter 3

  She was near tears.

  Generally he despised sniveling females, but surprisingly, he felt sorry for her. He hadn't known he could still feel compassion for another human being; he had thought any empathy had been beaten out of him long ago, in prison. He supposed it was because she was so plain, and just an innocent victim of the other one's schemes. He had already sized up the girls' relationship. The plain one was the supporting act, the other one was the leader.

  The other one. Shoz stopped and turned to let the two girls catch up. The other one, the princess, was not crying, oh no. Her mouth was set in an expression like a mule's, telling him she wouldn't give an inch. This, too, was a surprise; he would have assumed she was all fluff.

  "When are we stopping?" Lucy demanded. She was supporting Joanna. The smaller girl did not have her strength. "Joanna is exhausted."

  "But you aren't?"

  "Not at all."

  "Sheathe your claws, princess; we'll stop for the night here." He turned away with a hidden smile. It was a downright lie. Her face was red with exertion. And she was glaring at him as if he'd just told her they'd go another few miles, while her friend, the pale, mousy one, was gazing at him with wide teary-eyes.

  Shoz began gathering wood for a fire while the two girls sank down in exhaustion. He watched the redhead strip off her expensive suede shoes without a thought for modesty; in fact, he paused to admire her stockinged ankles and the hint of calf she was showing him. On purpose? He was sure of it. She was a practiced flirt, used to gaining male attention whenever she wanted it. If she thought she could manipulate him, she had another thing coming. And if she wanted to play with fire, it was okay with him. Someone should warn her that he hadn't had a woman in two weeks, not since he'd left Carmen in Death Valley.

  "Lucy," Joanna protested, tugging at her sleeve.

  Lucy followed her friend's glance to Shoz and saw his interested gaze. A flush rose to her cheeks while a tingle ran down her spine. She hastily let her skirts fall and cover her nearly bare legs.

  "What are you doing?" Joanna scolded.

  Lucy looked at her. "My feet hurt. I don't care."

  "Do you think we'll be safe tonight?"

  There was tension in Joanna's voice, and Lucy followed Joanna's gaze to look at the stranger as he dumped a pile of wood and brush. He squatted. His faded jeans stretched taut over his powerful legs, and Lucy realized there was a constriction in her chest.

  Joanna did not know their plans to escape, because there was no way Lucy could tell her without risking being overheard by the stranger. Lucy knew Joanna would willingly follow her when the time came. It was just a matter of finding the right moment. Having made the decision to escape earlier, Lucy did not question it now.

  But she debated Joanna's question. If they were to remain here, she wasn't sure if they would be safe or not. She was filled with doubts. He confused her. She sensed he didn't like her. He was so different from any man she had ever met before that he was impossible to fathom. And his gaze was unnerving. Predatory. Lucy wasn't exactly frightened, but she wasn't exactly calm, either.

  It was almost dark, and they were going to escape as soon as possible. But how?

  Shoz stood, his pale gaze sweeping over her. Lucy rose, too, as if on a puppet's string. He had a way of making her feel naked. It raised goose bumps on her skin, and she didn't like it.

  "Can you cook?"

  Lucy blinked.

  He repeated the question. "We have servants who cook."

  He picked up his saddlebags and shoved them at her chest. "Not anymore you don't."

  She was genuinely amazed. Lucy opened the bags to find coffee, dried beans, and a few tins of meat. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

  "You want to eat?" He squatted and lit the fire. "Make the food first. After it's done and we've eaten, you can wash the pot out in the stream that runs behind those trees. Then make the coffee."

  Stiffly Lucy threw the saddlebags down. "I am not your maid," she said, insulted. She turned her back on him. "Come on, Joanna, let's go refresh ourselves." She picked up her reticule.

  Shoz crossed his arms and watched her friend get up tiredly, nevertheless obeying her. He called after them, "Don't go too far. There's wolves, mountain lions, and snakes around here."

  That froze Lucy, but only for a second. She took Joanna's arm, and said, loudly enough, "Ignore him. He's only trying to scare us."

  "Are you sure?" Joanna quavered. "Lucy, what if—" "Trust me," Lucy replied with more confidence than she felt.

  Shoz poked the fire. He made no attempt to cook. If the spoiled princess didn't do it, she would go hungry—he'd already made up his mind on that score. Fair was fair—and he'd been too damn fair. He'd made the fire, and he certainly wasn't going to wait on her and give in to her uppity airs. Never. He wasn't her servant, even if she thought so.

  He felt it, again, the rising pressure in his loins. He avoided ladies like the plague and his arousal made him angry. She was probably a looker when she was cleaned up, not that he cared. Her body would make any man crazy, and after two weeks of forced celibacy (he hated whores), she was making him crazy.

  He looked at the sky. There was a full moon and a skyful of stars, making it a gloriously bright night. Until the sun had set, he had been heading in the right direction, and now he checked his position against the North Star. He might be off by a few miles, but the meeting wasn't until mid-morning tomorrow. Automatically Shoz's palm went to the waistband of his jeans, touching the thick wad taped there. He had been a fool to become involved with the girls. What was he going to do with them tomorrow? Was he becoming softhearted? That would be dangerous. Then he heard a scream.

  He kept a knife strapped to his ankle inside his boot, and it was in his hand even before he was running towar
d the stream. He already knew it was her friend who had screamed, and he recognized the sound as surprise and fear and pain. He burst through the three trees to see Joanna on the ground, moaning, holding her ankle. Lucy knelt beside her with concern. They had crossed the stream and were on the other side. "Damn," he said, wading through the ankle-high water. He could not miss his meeting tomorrow, he absolutely could not. There was too much at stake.

  "Let me see," he said, sheathing his knife and squatting. He gently took Joanna's foot in his hands.

  "It's not broken, is it?" Lucy cried.

  Joanna kept moaning, rocking back and forth.

  "She slip on the rocks in the creek?"

  "Yes."

  Shoz took off her shoe. She yelped and began to cry. Shoz wished she had just a little of the debutante's backbone. Fortunately, her ankle wasn't broken, but it was twisted. "It's sprained," he announced with a sinking feeling. He knew he should just leave these two and go on about his business, but how could he? Damn! How could he leave them alone in the middle of this barren country— inhabited only by snakes and wolves? Especially now that one of them was hurt. He was becoming softhearted.

  "We need ice," Lucy stated.

  "Sorry, princess, but the icebox is broken and the butler has the day off."

  Lucy stood abruptly. "Stop making fun of me."

  "You bring it on yourself," he said shortly, and gave his attention to Joanna. She was regarding him steadily out of big, pretty blue eyes, her best feature. He gave her an encouraging smile; she smiled back. "I'll splint this up and it'll feel better immediately."

  "Thank you," Joanna said softly.

  "What in hell were you two doing, anyway?" Shoz asked, staring at Lucy.

  "What do you mean?" Her eyes were wide and innocent, like an angel's.

  "Why'd you cross the stream?"

  She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Two pink spots appeared on her cheeks.

  "Talking a walk?" he drawled. He didn't wait for her answer. "Stay with her."

  Lucy eyed him as he left, and dropped down beside Joanna, taking her hand. "Don't worry," she said, but she herself was distraught. They had tried to escape, but had failed miserably. How could they escape now? The answer was obvious; they couldn't. And she couldn't escape by herself and leave Joanna alone with that monster. She would never abandon her friend like that!