Desert Rain

Desert Rain Lowell, Elizabeth

Come on, Shannon, smile like Im your lover. You do know what a lover is, dont you, sweetie?

Holly Shannon North bit back what she wanted to say and smiled as she had been trained to
do.

Jerry was the hottest fashion photographer outside of Paris, but he had a mouth like a
razor blade. Since Holly had refused to sleep with him, he had become nearly impossible to
work with.

The flash that burst in Hollys face was reflected in flexible metal shields held by
sweating technicians.

Better, but not good enough, Jerry said. I know youre ice from the neck down, but lets
keep it our secret, lovey.

Holly lowered her eyelids until her unusual sherry-colored eyes were only glints beneath
thick black lashes. Long hair fell like black water over her bare shoulders and upper
arms. Her smile widened without becoming a bit softer.

Jerry grunted.

Motionless, Holly waited. Perspiration made fine tendrils of hair curl over the high
temples and slanted cheekbones that had transformed a young girl called Holly North into
Shannon, an internationally famous model.

Now give me a pout, Jerry ordered. Lots of lip just begging to be bitten.

Holly pouted.

Turn left, Jerry said harshly. Make that hair fly. Make every man who looks at you want to
feel it sliding over his naked skin.

Holly turned with the grace that was as much a part of her as her long legs and lithe body.

The heat that had everyone else short-tempered and sweating was like wine to her. She had
been raised in Palm Springs scorching, brilliant, endless summers. The desert sun that
bleached out most people made her bloom.

A delicate rose flush glowed beneath her skin, hinting at the heat within, a heat that
only one man had ever touched.

Lincoln McKenzie.

Dont think about him, Holly told herself automatically.It only hurts you.

Though she tried not to think of Linc, she couldnt help herself. The feel of Palm Springs
in the summer was too unique. She couldnt make herself believe that she was in New York or
Paris, Hong Kong or London or Rome, and Lincoln McKenzie was half a world away.

Holly knew that Linc lived here, near enough to touch. He was part of the desert, as
strong as the mountains rising in stark grandeur beyond the city.

Memories of Linc, like the sun, fired her skin.

She had worshipped Linc since she was nine years old and he was seventeen, riding one of
the Arabian horses his family raised. The first time she saw him was a moment so vivid
Holly could still smell the sage and dust, see Lincs slow smile and hazel eyes, feel the
velvet flutter of the horses nostrils and her own heart as she stood in the path of his
mount and smiled up at him.

Lovely! Jerry said. Keep it up! Over the shoulder now. Turn. Faster! Again. Again! Again!

Feeling like a leaf caught in the winds of time, Holly turned and spun, giving herself to
the desert heat and her memories of one man.

She couldnt mark the day or even the month when her young girls crush on Linc had changed
into something deeper, hotter, more consuming. Although their ranches shared a common
boundary, the two families did not socialize.

Yet as Holly grew older, she saw Linc frequently at horse shows and auctions and training
rings. With each meeting she fell more completely under his spell.

Each time, it crushed her that Linc didnt notice her. Yeah, good, Jerry muttered. Now a
little brighter, less pout. Big smile, baby. Gimme teeth. Holly smiled at the camera, but
her eyes were focused on the past.

On her sixteenth birthday she had been baby-sitting Beth McKenzie, Lincs half-sister, who
was only nine. The McKenzies came home very late, arguing and more than a little drunk.
Holly had never heard people swear at each other like that.

When Linc showed up unexpectedly, Holly ran to him. He drove her home, talking softly to
her until she stopped shaking. When he learned that she had turned sixteen at midnight, he
teased her gently about sweet sixteen and never been kissed.

What began as a comforting gesture became different, deeper, the timeless kiss of a man
holding a woman he desired. Holly responded with an innocent abandon that had all but
destroyed Lincs control.

After a long time he had taken her face between his hands and looked at her, memorizing
the moment and the moonlight pouring over her dazed face. The smile she gave him had been
that of Eve newly awakened to the possibilities of being a woman.

Thats the smile I want! said Jerry triumphantly. My God, babe, if you were only half as
hot as you look. Left shoulder. Gimme some heat. Yeah. Yeah! Turn on for me, babe!

Holly barely noticed the photographers chatter or the battery of flashes going off around
her. She was sixteen again, smiling up at the man she had always loved.

Linc had wanted to take her out the following night, but Holly had promised to baby-sit
for her fathers foreman. That was where she had been when Linc came and told her there had
been an accident, a head-on crash along a twisting county road.

He had driven Holly to the hospital where doctors were trying to save her parents. He had
held her through the long night while first her mother and then her father died.

Linc had held Holly while she screamed and wept, held her while her world shattered, held
her until she fell into an exhausted sleep in his arms.

When Holly woke up, she was in a hospital bed and her mothers sister, Sandra, was there.
Holly knew her aunt only from a few faded photographs in a shoebox full of family pictures.

Within a few days Sandra had taken Holly back to Manhattan, where Sandra owned an agency
that specialized in high-fashion models.

By the time Holly was eighteen, she was working full time as a model. By the time she was
nineteen, she had been on the cover of every major American and European magazine. By the
time she was twenty, she was the Royce Reflection, the woman chosen by Europes foremost
designer to represent his total line of products, from perfumes to clothes, from negligees
to cosmetics.

Holly used only her middle name, Shannon, when she worked. It was her way of separating
herself from the alien, glamorous creature who stared back at her from the pages of
magazines and spoke seductively about negligees and sex on millions of television screens.

Shannon was sensual, beautiful, extraordinary.

Holly was not.

After years of seeing herself as an awkward duckling, she wasnt at all comfortable with
what makeup and lighting magicians did to her face and what fashion sorcerers did to her
slender body.

Most of all, Holly resented the males who groped after her carefully applied beauty in
expensive cars and penthouse suites. She knew that the men were really making love to a
four-color magazine spread.

And that was how she respondedcool, sophisticated.

Flat.

Men had called her many names, frigid being the most polite.

At twenty-two, Holly was a virgin who looked like every mans dream of a sexy, very
experienced lover.

Lift your arms, Jerry said.

Dreamily she did, remembering what it had been like to slide her hands up Lincs shoulders
and comb her fingers through his thick, chestnut hair.

Higher, Jerry ordered. Good. Now arch your back and shake out your hair.

Holly hesitated. Acting like that wasnt part of her memories. She hadnt flaunted herself
and teased Linc.

She had loved him.

Cmon, sweetie, Jerry said impatiently. Give it a little sex. Think of your lover.

Caught between the innocent past and the empty present, Holly tensed.

No, no, no, Jerry snapped.

Forcing herself to relax, she tried again.

Not good enough, he said. Then, sarcastically Jerry added, Oh, yeah. I forgot. Youre not
into lovers. So put your hands on those lovely, useless hips and pretend, damn you!

A toss of Hollys head sent black hair rippling down the center of her back. She moved her
body into a taunting stance and looked sidelong at the camera.

Memory stabbed through Holly as her hair slid over her skin. She wished her hair had been
long when Lincs fingers had tugged playfully at her chin-length curls.

Why couldnt I have been beautiful then, when I was sixteen and in love?

On the heels of that thought came another, one that had haunted her for six years.

I wish I was sixteen now, in Lincs arms, his mouth warm against my throat and his taste on
my lips. . . .

The memory was hot and sweet at the same time. It transformed her body with a tidal wave
of yearning so strong that the camera couldnt miss it.

Beautiful! crowed Jerry. Babe, Im gonna put you up for an Oscar. If I didnt know better,
Id swear you liked sex.

His words were meaningless noise to Holly. She was six years in the past, smiling, lost in
her memories of Linc and her first taste of passion.

Turning, hair swirling, she held her arms out to the only man she had ever loved. She
could see him so vividly, chestnut hair shot through with gold, taller than other men,
stronger. His eyes changed with the light, first hazel, then green, now dark with an
emotion she couldnt name.

Past and present collided, throwing Holly off-balance.

She wasnt holding out her arms to a dream, but to the real man.

Linc.

She couldnt believe that she wasnt seeing her dream. Linc was here, now, towering over the
crouched, muttering photographer.

Abruptly Holly believed it was the present, not the past. The look Linc was giving her was
one of absolute contempt, not of gentleness or of rising passion.

His cold hazel glance swept the crowd of technicians and gawkers. Then he returned to an
examination of her that was so intimate she blushed.

Instinctively she crossed her arms over her breasts and shook her hair forward until it
was a veil concealing her from Lincs icy scrutiny.

Thats a new one, Jerry said, shifting for a better angle. It has possibilities.

The motor drive on his camera raced like a mechanical heart, pumping frame after frame of
film through the camera.

Not bad, lovey, Jerry said grudgingly. Now shoot out that right hip and give me the hungry
little girl bit you do so well.

Motionless, Holly stood frozen in Lincs contempt. She didnt know why Linc hated her, but
the look on his face left no doubt that he did.

Her dream of love, of Linc, exploded like glass inside her, cutting her, hurting her so
much it was hard to breathe.

Wake up, Shannon, Jerry snapped. We dont have all day.

Shannon.

Hollys professional name echoed in her mind, breaking the grip of pain. She remembered
that she was twenty-two, a top international model. She was no longer a plain, love-struck
girl of sixteen.

Not Holly,she reminded herself harshly.

Shannon.

Shannon wouldnt let a mans contempt strip her nerves raw. She would give as good as she
got.

Or better.

Holly assumed a provocative stance, hand on hip, chin lifted, as graceful as a lily
swaying on a long stem. She bared her teeth at the camera in a mockery of a smile.

You call that a come-on? Jerry demanded.

Turning away, Holly let out a breath and narrowed her eyes. She tried to forget the
present and recall the dream that had sustained her through the empty years since her aunt
had dragged her from the landand the manshe loved.

It was the dream of Linc that had made Holly come alive for the camera. It was the dream
of Linc that made her radiate a leashed sensuality that fairly shimmered through the
magazine pages and TV commercials.

Over your right shoulder, Jerry ordered. Gimme some teeth and a hint of tongue. Holly
turned again. Linc hadnt moved. He was still there, watching her. Hating her.

Why?Holly asked herself painfully.What did I do to make him so angry that he never
answered my letters?

Why is he here, now, hating me?

Abruptly Holly realized that the silk dress she wore was molded to her body by heat and
static electricity. The clinging cloth told anyone with eyes that Royce designs, as the
ads purred, are made to be worn over nothing but a womans perfumed skin.

For an instant Holly was motionless, caught in Lincs consuming glance. Embarrassment and
something else shot through her, something she hadnt felt since she was sixteen.

Her body changed, hot and cold at once. The tips of her breasts tightened, pressing in
intimate detail against the thin silk.

The sardonic twist to Lincs mouth told Holly that he hadnt missed her bodys response to
him.

She wanted to run from him, but that was something Holly would do. She wasnt Holly at the
moment. She was Shannon and she ran from nothing, certainly not a mans contempt.

Shannon would return that contempt with interest.

Fine silk clung to Hollys hips as she spun away from Linc, from the camera, from
everything. She walked through the battery of lights and reflectors without a backward
look.

Shannon? called Jerry. Where are you going? Im just getting started!

Too bad, she retorted. Im just getting finished.

The words came out in the brittle, East Coast accent Holly used on difficult men.

Shannons voice.

Without a backward look, Holly kept on going, walking away from Linc McKenzie, the only
man she had ever loved.