Desert Rain (3 page)

Roger cleared his throat.

Oh, I forgot, Holly said, her eyes wide and innocent and cold. The material is only
forty-four inches wide. That wont quite get the job done, will it?

Cyns mouth sagged, then snapped shut. Her full lips flattened into a line.

Before she could think of anything appropriately cutting to say, Holly dismissed her with
a small smile. She turned and spoke to Linc in a voice that was both cool and oddly
intimate.

Now I see why you were so nasty on the subject of parasites and prostitutes, Holly said.
Id sympathize, except you have only your own bad taste to blame.

She turned her back on the pair and spoke only to Roger.

Ill be at the hotel if you need me, she said.

With outward calm Holly sauntered across the burning asphalt street to her hotel. The sun
was unbearably hot, scorching her body to the soles of her feet.

But nothing was as hot as the tears she could no longer hold back. She swallowed
convulsively and prayed that no one could see the evidence of her lack of control spilling
down her cheeks.

Now, too late, Holly realized that she had come back to Palm Springs hoping to see Linc
again. She had wanted to bask in his admiration and love when he saw the graceful
butterfly that had come out of such a plain cocoon.

Instead, she had found a taunting stranger whose contempt was a knife turning in her,
cutting her to pieces.

I was a fool to come back,Holly thought bitterly. And I was an even bigger fool for
believing that dreams come true.

Holly tossed her canteen into the back of the open Jeep. She checked that the sleeping bag
and various tarps were securely tied down before she turned to face Roger.

Quit worrying about me, Holly said, forcing a smile. Ive camped at Hidden Springs since I
was four years old.

Alone? Roger challenged. Holly ignored him. Roger made a sweeping gesture toward the
barren, rugged mountains looming on the horizon. Its not exactly Central Park out there,
he said. Its a ruddy wilderness. If it were Central Park, Id take a sawed-off shotgun with
me, Holly retorted. Roger almost smiled. Up there, she said, all I need to worry about is
water, and the springs have plenty of that.

With that, Holly turned back to the Jeep. She shook the five-gallon gas can to make sure
that it was both full and secure in its bracket. Years of experience with rental cars had
taught her to check everything herself.

Shannon, Roger began.

Holly ignored him. She pulled a screwdriver from the hip pocket of her jeans and tightened
one of the bracket screws holding the gas can in place.

Rogers pale eyebrows rose. Youre not Shannon now, are you? he asked quietly. Im off duty.

Shaking his head, Roger looked at Hollys severely French-braided hair. Her face was
innocent of makeup. Her clothes were loose, unassuming, and durable. Her shoes could most
kindly be described as sturdy.

Holly Shannon North, Roger said. Youre the most amazing creature. If it werent for your
eyes, I swear I wouldnt recognize you. No wonder the photographers love you.

Sure, Holly said, her tone icy. Im the perfect blank canvas for men to paint their sexual
fantasies on. With that, she grabbed a carton of food and cooking gear and stowed it in
the front of the Jeep. Roger put his hand on Hollys arm and squeezed gently. I didnt mean
that the way you took it, he said.

I know. Holly sighed. I suppose I didnt mean it the way I said it, either. She lifted the
final carton of supplies and turned toward the Jeep. Let me come with you, Roger said. She
was so surprised that she nearly dropped the carton.

You? Camping? Holly smiled and shook her head. I mean it. So do I. Camping isnt your
style. We both know it. Youre my style, Roger said. Let me come with you. I promise I wont
get in the way. Holly simply stared at him.

Level blue eyes looked back at her. Youre serious, she said after a moment. Quite.

Holly felt a familiar sinking in her stomach at what she saw in Rogers eyes. After
yesterday, she needed to think about old dreams, broken dreams. She needed to sit alone in
the middle of the vast silence of the high desert and know that no one was going to demand
anything of her, not even a smile.

She needed the peace she could find only in the desert.

She most certainly didnt need to spend the next three days evading Roger Royces
propositions, no matter how gently and elegantly they would be put.

Roger was neither insensitive nor stupid. He read Hollys refusal in her tight lips and
silence.

That bad? he asked, his tone wry, I just thought . . . you were so upset at what that rude
cowboy said. It worried me. Are you all right now?

Of course.

You dont act like it.

Saying nothing, Holly shifted the carton in her arms and turned back toward the Jeep.

Roger continued talking like a man exploring hostile countrywary and ready to retreat
instantly.

Theres something between you and Lincoln McKenzie, isnt there? Roger probed.

No, Holly said curtly.

Not any more, she thought.Probably there never was. Just a dream, thats all.

And now a nightmare.

Shannon? Roger asked softly.

Holly dumped the carton of supplies in the front of the Jeep with unnecessary force before
she turned to face Roger. She owed him more than the cool, abrupt facade that was Shannon.

If nothing else, Roger was her friend as well as the man who had literally invested
millions of dollars in her career.

But Holly couldnt talk to the very sophisticated Roger Royce about her childish dreams of
love and Lincoln McKenzie. So she told Roger about the rest of the truth, the part she
could talk about without feeling like a juvenile fool.

This is the first time Ive been back since my parents died, Holly said. There are . . .
memories.

I realize that, Roger said. It will be worse at Hidden Springs, wont it? You shouldnt be
alone, Shannon.

As always, Rogers kindness touched Holly. Ill be all right, she said. Rogers expression
said he didnt believe it. Really, she said.

Holly went to Roger and kissed his cheek quickly. But thanks for caring, she said. Roger
caught her shoulders, holding her only inches from his lips. Id care more, if youd let me,
he said.

Holly felt herself freeze up inside. She knew she had to stop this now, before she lost
one of the few people in the world who mattered to her.

It wouldnt be worth your time, she said stiffly. Im frigid. There was a moment of shocked
silence. Jerry is a bloody swine, Roger said finally, his voice harsh. Hollys laugh was
short and humorless.

I wont argue that, she said. But hes right. Im just not a sensual woman.

Rubbish! Do you think I havent watched you? Youre always touching things, tasting textures
with your fingertips. Hot, cold, rough, smooth, whatever is within reach. You drink
sensations.

Thats not the same.

The hell it isnt, Roger said in a husky voice. Your body changes when silk slides over it,
Shannon. You need a silken lover, not a selfish swine like Jerry.

Memories of Linc washed over Holly. His body had felt exciting beneath her hands, silk
over steel. She needed both the silk and the steel, the unique combination that was Linc.

Silk alone, Roger alone, just wasnt enough.

I wish silk was all I needed, Holly whispered, surprised by the weight of tears in her
lashes.

Dont cry, Roger said gently, releasing her.

She gave him a wan smile.

Im so sorry, he said. The last thing I wanted was to upset you. I just thought that maybe
this time ...

Silently Holly shook her head. Roger looked at her closely. You arent angry, are you? he
asked. No, she whispered. You? Its not the first time youve said no to me, he answered
with a rueful smile. Then his smile vanished, leaving behind an intent, intense, very male
expression. If you change your mind, Roger said, dont be shy about telling me. Any time. I
mean it. Holly nodded, but looked away from him.

Ill meet you at the Hidden Springs gate on Monday, she said, quickly sliding behind the
wheel of the Jeep. And be sure that all the vehicles have four-wheel drive. Anything less
wont make it to the springs.

Roger nodded.

The vinyl seat of the open Jeep was brutally hot beneath Hollys legs. Before she even put
the key in the ignition, her jeans felt scorched. She pulled a pair of driving gloves out
of her purse, knowing that the steering wheel would be too hot to touch.

When Holly looked up, Roger was watching her. She grabbed a battered straw cowboy hat,
pulled it firmly over her head, and drew the chin cord up. Sunglasses followed. The lenses
were so dark that her eyes were invisible behind the ovals of blue-green plastic.

Leaning forward slightly, Holly turned the ignition key. The Jeep surprised her by
starting the first time. She shifted smoothly, backed out of the hotel parking lot, and
waved at Roger as she turned onto the palm-lined street.

During the white-hot days of summer, Palm Springs was a quiet place. Most of the wealthy
people migrated to more gentle climates. The rest of the populace either embraced the
rhythms of the desertlaze away the hottest hours and emerge at twilightor they huddled
inside air-conditioned cocoons and didnt come out at all.

Holly waited at a stoplight, impatient for the signal to change and allow her to create
her own breeze again. She needed the illusion of movement as much as she needed the
cooling wind.

She needed to get away.

It was hotter than it had been yesterday, when Linc had appeared like a mirage, ruining
her day and her dreams.

Stop thinking about it,Holly advised herself curtly.Think about the weather. Everyone else
does. Finally the light changed, releasing her. She sped off toward her beloved mountains,
her mind firmly set

on the weather.

Not only was it hot today, it was also humid, an unusual thing in the western desert. The
humidity was caused by moist air slowly sweeping north from the Sea of Cortez. As the hot,
thick air met the mountains, it was lifted up and transformed into clouds.

By the end of the day, summer thunder would peal through dry mountain canyons, shaking the
land down to its granite bones. If there were enough clouds, it might even rain, cooling
the incandescent country for a few sweet hours.

Such cloudbursts were rare. But then, water in a desert was always rare.

Now, in the flatlands between the mountains, even the thought of cool rain was impossible.

Holly drove quickly, unconsciously trying to escape her uncomfortable thoughts as well as
the heat.

She could no more outrun herself than a sky empty of clouds could rain. The memories came
at her in waves, called up by the sound of the Jeep and the smell of metal baking beneath
a relentless summer sun.

Holly had first learned to drive her fathers battered Jeep when she was a long-legged, shy

fourteen-year-old begging to help feed the horses that were held in a Garner Valley
pasture eight miles from the Norths ranch. That particular pasture bordered on Lincs ranch.

She used to go there as often as she could, hoping to see him as he rode the fence line,
looking for breaks.

Dont think about it,Holly raged silently at herself.Think about driving. Think about
mountains. Think about Hidden Springs.

Think about anything but Linc, who didnt recognize me, hates what Ive become, and never
cared enough to remember me in any case.

After the first miles Holly drove the Jeep automatically, confidently. The familiar feel
of the vehicle helped to calm her as she took the Palms to Pines Highway, speeding toward
the land she had not seen for six years.

When Holly had refused to sell Hidden Springs, Sandra had turned over the management of
the ranch to the McKenzies. It had seemed like a good solution to Holly six years ago, for
she couldnt bear to auction off the home and land that were all she had left of her
childhood.

And there was always her dream, hidden under layers of logic and excuses, that someday she
would go back and Linc would be there, waiting for her.

The gap between dreams-then and reality-now was a slicing pain that left Holly bleeding no
matter how she tried to deny or ignore it.

By the time she reached the unmarked dirt road leading to Hidden Springs, clouds had
condensed around the purple peaks of the San Jacinto Mountains.

The air was visibly thicker, unbearably humid, clinging to Hollys skin like clouds to the
mountaintops. A breeze moved restlessly across the dry land, rubbing over the brittle sage
with a distant, secret sound.

The gate to Hidden Springs was locked, but the combination hadnt been changed since Holly
left. Well oiled, painfully hot to the touch even through her gloves, the lock opened with
a metallic click.

She drove the Jeep through and locked the gate again behind her. A tantalizing hint of
coolness curled down from the mountains, riding the fitful wind.

As she drove ever higher, clouds changed color and density, going from oyster to
blue-tinged slate. The road dwindled to nothing more than twin ruts winding up rocky
ridges and over dry riverbeds.

Holly watched the clouds constantly, looking for the first sign of rain in the mountain
peaks rising above the road. She was relieved to see that despite the growing heaviness of
the clouds, they hadnt yet frayed into sheets of rain.

Even so, she wasted no time when the road dipped down to cross one of the many dry washes
that radiated down the steep, rugged mountain slopes.

Normally the ravines held nothing more than sand and rocks and wind. Any moisture that
existed was well beneath the surface, beyond the reach of even the hottest summer sun.

But Holly knew that a storm higher in the mountains could change that very quickly, even
if it never rained at the lower elevations. A hard rain ran off the baked land rather than
soaking in. Soon every crack, every crevice, every crease in the dry land overflowed with
water.

Then rain spilled down rocky slopes in tiny streams that met and joined into walls of
water that roared like muddy avalanches down formerly dry ravines.

Such flash floods usually lasted only a few hours before they outran the high-altitude
rainstorms that had created them. The floods left behind tangles of muddy brush, rapidly
drying puddles, and riverbeds that would know no water until the next storm came.

To anyone who understood that mountain rains could mean desert floods, the sudden
appearance of rivers in a dry land was more exciting than dangerous.

Still, Holly breathed a silent sigh of relief as the Jeep churned up out of Antelope Wash,
the last big ravine between her and Hidden Springs. She was well above the desert floor
now, into the chaparral zone. A few thousand feet higher would bring her to the first
pines.

But the Hidden Springs road didnt go that high into the mountains. The twisting,
rock-strewn ruts ended less than a mile away, where water welled silently from the base of
a shattered cliff.

Above Holly thunder rolled across the peaks, pursuing fickle lightning, never quite
catching up. Clouds veiled the mountains, bathing granite peaks in mist. Though the wind
was stronger now, cooler, there was still no smell of rain. For all their tossing and
flirting, the clouds werent yet ready to embrace the land.

Holly unloaded her gear before she drove the Jeep a hundred yards from the place she had
chosen for her camp. If lightning danced over the land, she didnt want to be sleeping near
the only metal on the mountainside.