Showdown at Lizard Rock (2 page)

“I’ll bet you would.”

“Are you going to come down voluntarily, or do I have to have you hauled off?”

“Oh, I think you’re probably going to have to haul me off. At least that’s what I’d planned on.”

“Fine!”

“And just how do you plan to accomplish that little feat? It will take a bigger man than you to get me down before the reporters get here.”

“I think I’m big enough,” he said, his voice little more than a growl.

“Big, maybe, but I don’t think you have the nerve. You’ll never make it up here, not dressed in all those fancy clothes. This rock is as slippery as glass, and hell on fancy boots and jeans. Nope, fancy looks are one thing, but action is another.”

“Listen, lady, I’ve been between a … a rock and a hard place more times than you’ve ever dreamed about. Getting to the top of that rock on my own would be a dead cinch if I wanted to.”

“All right, I dare you to equal my feat.” She’d counted on forcing him into a response on her terms, but this was working out even better than she’d
expected. “I’ll give you two minutes. If you can make it up here before the two minutes are up, I won’t snap this padlock shut.”

King gazed at her in growing anger. Fine, he thought. If she wanted to play rough, then he’d play rougher. Going up and bringing her down himself would probably be the fastest way to handle the problem. He glanced around, spotted a nub of rock, and removed his hat. With great care and nonchalance he placed the hat on the nub. Then he scanned the base of the rock for a foothold.

“Wait just a minute, cowboy,” Kaylyn called down. “I said ‘equal my feat.’ You’re wearing too many clothes to begin to do that. What’s the matter, are you shy?”

“Never let it be said that King Vandergriff turned down a challenge, Ms. Smith. Start counting.” He casually unbuttoned his coat and handed it to Mac, then bent toward him and whispered for nearly half a minute.

Kaylyn watched the foreman nod and smile. Whatever mischief you’re planning, it won’t work, she told King Vandergriff silently.

He sat down on a smaller rock at the base of the Lizard and pulled his alligator boots off. He tossed his bright red socks after them, then jauntily removed his shirt.

“Taking your time, are you?” she said, taunting him. She craned her head and tried to watch him, but he’d moved so that she could only get a glimpse of brawny, bare chest. Her stomach did a slow free-fall into a pit of dread. She hadn’t expected him to take up her challenge. She’d just been delaying him, killing time to allow the reporters to get there. Surely
he wouldn’t come to get her. Surely he wasn’t going to take off his clothes. Surely he wasn’t going to climb Lizard Rock in plain view of everyone but her.

He was.

“Mr. Vandergriff, I hope you know what you’re doing. I’d hate for that nice pair of tailored jeans to get torn.” She sat back and forced herself to gaze up at the blue sky with a pretense of unconcern.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Smith. My jeans aren’t in any danger. I just took them off. I hope you brought along an umbrella or a blanket. I wouldn’t want you to get burned up there while we obey the sunshine law—assuming you’re not used to nude bathing.”

Kaylyn forgot about the sky. She managed a light laugh. “Burned? This isn’t the Bahamas, and there’re no untanned spots on
my
body.”

“Hey, beautiful!” a man called from the crowd of workers below. “When are you going to let us in on the reason for the fight?”

“When the reporters get here,” she answered, praying that the distant sound of sirens marked the beginning of the procession she was expecting. She didn’t know how long she could keep her solo spot. King Vandergriff was nowhere to be seen, and she assumed he was clinging halfway up the rock. Good.

“I believe I made it within the time limit, didn’t I?” he asked in a deep voice, and she jumped in surprise.

King Vandergriff reached the top of the rock and threw his leg across the Lizard’s hump so that he was seated beside her.

“Uh, yes.” She felt fingers of tension slip along her arms as she glanced down at her watch. “You still have ten seconds to go.”

She turned her head warily and gave him a long, leisurely examination, designed to be unnerving. He returned her look with one of his own. He seemed amused and self-satisfied, almost cheerful, but she knew that appearances were deceiving. There was nothing lighthearted about the man sitting beside her.

Nothing ordinary, either.

The outer attire he’d left scattered on the ground below might be conservative, but his briefs were the same flame-red color as his socks. And there was nothing conservative about the way those briefs fit.

He appeared nonchalant about their matching state of undress, but she already knew he was as good at playing one-upmanship as she was. If he thought his actions would intimidate her, he was in for a rude awakening. She quirked her lips. “Hmm … believe in color coordination, do you?”

“I try to make certain that everything I do is coordinated, Ms. Smith, darlin’. Nice view you have up here. Now, what was it you said about it taking a ‘big’ man to get you off this rock? Drop that padlock.”

She smiled benignly. She’d done it, she thought. She’d forced him to come to her, and if she wanted the world to know what was happening to Lizard Rock and Pretty Springs, she had her chance.

“I said that I wanted to talk to you,” she murmured, her voice deliberately low and teasing. “I had intended our talk to be a bit more private, but you didn’t want to cooperate. Cooperation isn’t your style.”

“Oh, if we’re talking style, darlin’, I’ll admit that you win hands down. Or up—or wherever you want me to put them when I take you off this rock.” He gestured toward the padlock. “If you please, Ms.
Smith … I won the bet. You’re honor-bound not to chain yourself to the rock.”

She laughed. “That’s right. You did win the bet, didn’t you? So I can’t chain myself to the rock. Too bad. Ah, well, if you’re determined to get me down, have at it. Good luck. You may think that you have wings, but I assure you that you don’t.”

“Don’t need ’em, Ms. Smith.”

Without ceremony he knelt beside her and slid one arm under her legs, the other behind her back. She gasped as he lifted her in a single, powerful motion, then stood and turned around. She thought for one breathless second that he was about to jump off the rock.

“What are you doing? You idiot!” She emphasized her last words with an inadvertent jab to his middle.

She barely noticed his “Umph!” as her hand and the chain she was still holding got caught in the golden tresses of her wig and threatened to yank it off. She grabbed King tightly around the neck with one hand and began untangling the chain from her hair. She was pressing herself against his bare chest in a manner so intimate, she felt an unwelcome flush cross her face.

“Careful, darlin’,” he whispered rakishly. “Folks are watching.”

“Damn! Do be still while I get this chain out of my wig, Mr. Vandergriff. It’s rented. Bend your neck forward a little, will you?”

“You’re wearing a wig? Thank heavens. With all that hair I was afraid you were half lion.”

He shifted her slightly in order to get a better hold. She felt the chain pull across his chest between them. She lifted it over his shoulder and slid
her hand across the back of his neck, accidentally rubbing her breasts against him as she moved. Her response to the feel of his chest against her barely covered nipples was instant and powerful. She pulled herself away too quickly, and was taunted by his rich, knowing chuckle.

This man was some old-world savage, she thought, standing triumphantly atop the rock and holding her as the prize. She grimaced. Goodness knows what kind of picture they presented to the onlookers below. For once in her twenty-five years Kaylyn Smith knew that she’d met a man who just might be her match. After a thoughtful moment she smiled with inspiration and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Just promise me that you aren’t going to do anything bad to me,” she begged in a simpering voice.

Puzzled, King studied her. Suddenly he heard the click of the padlock and felt the pull of the chain around his neck. Her helpless-maiden act had trapped him.

“You’ve done it now,” he said in a lethal tone.

“I have, indeed,” she replied happily.

A fire truck and a police car, sirens at full blast, cut across a drainage ditch and stopped alongside the ancient rock.

The chain pulled taut as Kaylyn dropped the padlock against King’s bare back. “Dammit, woman!” he muttered, his arms tightening around her.

“You won the bet, cowboy. I didn’t chain myself to the rock, but I didn’t promise not to chain
you
to the rock. Now, I think we’d better sit down and do some serious talking before those reporters get over here!”

He glared at her, then down at the crowd. “I ought to toss you like a bad apple,” he said.

“Oh, no, Brer Fox, please don’t throw me in that briar patch,” she begged in mock fear.

He glared at her. “Don’t try to trick your way out of this. I read Uncle Remus too. You’re not Brer Rabbit, and this Brer Fox is no dummy. I know that a lot of those characters down there are your friends. I’m not going to drop you kindly into their arms. If I have to stay up here half naked, so do you.” He paused, studying her through squinted eyes. “How about a bet? I bet you this chain and padlock that I can convince everyone that this is a joke.”

“It’s a deal!” she said. After all, the locals were accustomed to her outrageous acts on behalf of good causes. But they would never approve of an outsider like King Vandergriff sitting on Lizard Rock in nothing but red briefs.

“This is so much fun!” she said happily, and snuggled against him in a manner designed to present a most intriguing photo opportunity for the press. “But I warn you—I’m not Rapunzel and you’re not Houdini.”

“Stop wiggling around,” he ordered. “Who you’d better not be be is Humpty Dumpty.” He sat back down on the rock and deposited her beside him with a thump.

“I’ll be still,” she said sweetly. “Hi, Tom.” She waved to Tom Brolin, the editor of the
Pretty Springs Gazette.
Tom had just arrived at the rock with a pack of reporters and photographers. “Tom, meet King Vandergriff.”

“What happened to our talk?” King muttered under his breath, his mouth drawn into a fake smile
for the reporter’s viewing. “Let’s talk, you and me—privately.”

“Too late,” she whispered. “The press is already here.” She raised her voice. “Tom, this is His Royal Highness, King Vandergriff. King, this is Tom.”

Tom waved. King sighed. “Care to join us topside?” he asked the editor. “The more the merrier.” He glared at Kaylyn. “Where is the key to the padlock? I trust it’s hidden somewhere on that excuse for a swimsuit.”

“Don’t be crass, King. Keep on smiling. We’re about to have our picture taken.”

“Ms. Smith?” a woman called. “This is Iris Raines, TV Nine Evening News.” The reporter motioned for the cameraman beside her to begin filming Kaylyn and King. “Would you care to make a statement?”

King groaned. The situation was getting out of hand.… No. The situation had gotten out of hand long ago.

A second police care pulled up. Kaylyn watched Darwin Baxter, the district attorney, and the Honorable Homer T. Langley, mayor of Pretty Springs, get out. It looked as if everyone were finally here.

“Why don’t we wait for the mayor to get over to the rock?” she suggested, trying to ignore the crackling of the chain and padlock as King fiddled with them. She spoke to him out of one corner of her mouth. “It won’t do you any good to try to get away, Mr. Vandergriff. So just relax and look like the mighty Hulk.”

“Hulk, hell! If I had a hacksaw, I’d be out of this chain in about ten seconds.”

“Poor, trapped dear,” she said coyly.

Iris Raines stretched upward, holding a microphone.
“Is this protest a political matter?” she asked Kaylyn.

“Oh, this is definitely a political protest,” Tom Brolin said, answering for Kaylyn. Tom had been in on her protest plans from the beginning. He was the one who had alerted the news media to her Lady Godiva act at Lizard Rock.

“Make a statement, Katie!” someone urged.

“Her whole body is a statement,” one of the construction workers said. “She must be at least six feet tall, and there’s not a slack inch on her. Man, have you ever seen such a shape?”

“Ah, she’s not nude,” a photographer said, disappointed. “She’s wearing some kind of bikini under all that hair.”

“What’s the guy wearin’?” somebody asked.

“Red drawers.”

“Nah. Really? Hey, stand up!”

King looked at the gathering crowd with more than a touch of desperation. If he didn’t come up with a solution quickly, he was going to be a laughingstock in front of his employees and the county’s political leaders. He wasn’t worried that Kaylyn Smith’s little tactic would bring his construction project to a halt. He was worried that he’d lost his dignity.

“Come one, Kate!” a man yelled cheerfully. “Tell us, who’s your captive in the red BVDs?”

“Oh, he’s the man who—” she began.

“No, Ms. Smith, do let me,” King interjected. “I insist.” He turned his best smile on the crowd. “We’re so very glad you could come to our ground-breaking ceremony for the Pretty Springs Golf and Tennis Club.”

“Hah!” Kaylyn said huffily. She shook her head in disgust at his lie.

“You see,” he continued, “I’ve agreed to save Lizard Rock. My being chained to it is my—my pledge that the rock won’t be disturbed by our construction. Once the project is finished, I want you all to come back and tell me what you think of the landscaping.”

“All riiight!” one of the photographers yelled.

“In the meantime …” King signaled to Mac, who was gaping up at him. “Mac, if you’ll just start up the engines on all our equipment, I’d especially like our guests to see our new cherry picker in action before we adjourn to the Waterhole Restaurant for drinks and hors d’oeuvres.”

“Now just wait a minute!” Kaylyn said, flinging both feet over the side of the rock. She forgot her plan to keep her modesty and leaned dangerously forward. “I have a few words I’d like to say,” she told the crowd. “It isn’t only the rock that I’m concerned about. How many of you have ever been swimming in the Pretty Springs?”