Solitaire

“Do you know how good it feels to be outside again?” she asked, drawing in a deep breath of fresh air.

“Spoken like a true tunneler,” Slade replied. His fingers tightened on her elbow. “Ready? I’ve got Maggie all fueled and waiting.”

“Maggie?” Cat looked up at Slade tentatively.

Slade helped her into the front seat of the rental car and then shut the door. “Yeah, Maggie’s my twin-engine Cessna. And she’s as pretty as her name.”

The sun shone warmly through the windows and a fragrant scent of pine drifted in, making the day magical for Cat. As Slade eased into the car, he flashed her a heart-stopping smile. “You’ll like Maggie. She’s built like a sleek greyhound. Red and white, lean and mean.”

“The way you like your women, Donovan?” Now why had she made that remark? He had looked absolutely elated, as if flying were going to release him from his captive state on earth. Cat felt like a genuine wet blanket, but Donovan cheerfully snapped the safety belt across his lap and chest.

“Jealousy will get you nowhere. Maggie’s big-hearted enough to embrace both of us. Now, young lady, we’ve got a light westerly wind and clear skies waiting for us. Ready?”

Yes, she was ready, Cat realized. Perhaps it was partly relief that they were putting miles between her and the mine that had almost claimed her life, but another part of her was ready for a new adventure. Cat closed her eyes, allowing the wind to flow across her, moving her hair languidly against her temple and neck. Slade’s hand settled momentarily on her own.

“Okay?”

The concern in his voice soothed her. “I’m fine. Just enjoying my freedom, Donovan.”

There was hurt evident in his voice. “My friends call me Slade.”

Cat opened her eyes and studied his clean profile, from his straight brows to his finely shaped nose and mobile mouth. “After all we’ve been through together, I guess friend is a good word to use for us.”

His hand left her fingers and he concentrated on his driving. Friend was only one term he applied to Cat. He also wanted to explore other possibilities. She affected him as no woman ever had before. “Friends,” Slade murmured. “That’s a good place for us to start.”

“I hope you have a lot of patience,” she warned, feeling suddenly awkward.

Slade pinned her with an intense look. “Why?”

“Because I’m not myself, Slade. I’m jumpy and I snap when I don’t mean to.”

He smiled. “Lady, I’ve been snapped at by the best of them. I regard our two-month vacation at my ranch as just one more adventure.”

“Normally I’d agree with you. But I’m afraid you’re getting the raw end of this deal, Slade. I’ll give you one more chance to back off from your offer to let me use your ranch as my hospital for two months.”

The road spilled out of the small town, a narrow gray asphalt ribbon among the pine-clad hills. “Not on your life, Cat. I like a woman who has wanderlust in her soul!”

A smile shadowed Cat’s mouth as she met Slade’s merry glance. “Folks like us have it in their blood, don’t we? What’s so surprising about finding someone like yourself?”

“You try so hard to hide what’s deep inside you, Cat Kincaid. I keep trying to figure out who closed you up like a book under lock and key. But I know you’re not like those rocks I hunt, without feeling.” He laughed, a deep, resonant laugh. “You’re like an elusive emerald: hard to find, dangerous to extract and fragile when being cut and polished into a gem.”

Cat felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “It’s the nature of my work that makes me quiet. You’re a geologist, you should know that.”

Slade knew, but he couldn’t resist teasing her. She responded so quickly to the slightest amount of goading. He really shouldn’t, because she was far from well and Dr. Scott had warned him about overtaxing Cat. “I know what you’re saying, Cat, but I like to see that green fire leap into your eyes. I’ll let you off the hook, though. Dr. Scott gave me a stern lecture about not picking on you…for now.”

Cat closed her eyes, resting comfortably despite the tightness of the rib wrap. “That’s big of you,” she parried. “I suppose I ought to count my lucky stars for the reprieve.”

“It’s going to be a short one,” he warned, shooting her a mischievous look.

Cat smiled. She knew he was baiting her again. He’s good for me, she suddenly realized. But if the big, arrogant Texan knew that, he’d gloat. “What kind of pilot are you?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I got my license at Disneyland. Does that impress you?”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat but she squelched it, trying to avoid the subsequent pain. “You’re so full of baloney. Come on, level with me.”

“And if I did, would it make any difference?”

“My level of comfort would increase markedly if I knew more of your nefarious credentials.” She suspected his credentials were far from nefarious, but enjoyed turning the tables on him for a change.

Slade appeared momentarily wounded. “Well, I have exactly 3,212 hours on my multiengine and I.F.R. ratings and have been qualified in twelve different aircraft during my short experience of flying.”

“My comfort level is increasing,” she admitted with a smile.

“Let’s see. What else? The pilot is thirty-five, six feet four inches tall, single, roguishly handsome, makes a decent living, doesn’t have any outstanding debts to speak of and currently is unattached.” He looked squarely at her. “How’s your comfort level now?”

“It just nosedived.”

“Oh.”

“I’d have felt better if you’d told me that you’ve flown around the world and are an excellent navigator.”

“Well, I’m that, too.”

“But for some reason, you thought your personal stats would be of more interest to me?”

“I don’t want you to worry that you’d be a third wheel at the Mourning Dove Ranch. You’re lucky–you’ll be the only woman there besides Pilar, my manager’s wife.”

“Somehow, I don’t quite know if that’s lucky or unlucky, Donovan.”

He grinned. “It’s definitely lucky, Ms. Kincaid. Wait and see.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Your choice. Which do you want it to be?”

“You’re impossible, Slade, certifiably impossible.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been told. But then, because of my impossible qualities, I did discover a couple of gem deposits over in Brazil.” His voice grew softer. “Ever heard of the El Camino Mine, Ms. Kincaid?”

Cat blinked. The El Camino Mine had been splashed across all the mining and geology magazines two years earlier. It was, according to most geologists, one of the finest tourmaline discoveries in the world. The quality of the precious stones was almost flawless, and had sent excitement through the gem community. One fine deposit of watermelon tourmaline had set everyone on their ears. The pink stones without fractures were as rare as emeralds without flaws. She saw Slade’s smile widen.

“Don’t tell me…wait…you discovered that deposit! That’s where I’ve heard your name before.” Her thumping heart underscored her awe. “I almost ended up working at that site,” Cat added in disbelief.

“I know. I was the one who tried to persuade the owners to hire you to sink the shafts.” Slade shrugged. “But contracts are contracts; you were still building a mine shaft in Austria at the time. Just think, we almost rubbed elbows two years ago.”

Cat was still shaking her head. “You discovered El Camino. I can’t believe it.”

“You’ll wound my poetic soul with barbs like that.”