Showdown at Lizard Rock (6 page)

“It’s a bloody bordello,” she muttered. “He even has a red phone.” She half expected Mae West to come sashaying down the hall any minute.

She called Esther Hainey down at the Animal Shelter and listened as Esther bemoaned the plight of
Matilda, the very pregnant donkey who had been abandoned at the shelter that morning. Kaylyn sighed in distress. She didn’t mind providing a foster home for birds, cats, dogs, hamsters, or any of the other small creatures that came to the shelter. But a donkey?

Wait a minute, she thought. She had the
perfect
place. “Esther,” Kaylyn said, “can you get somebody to bring her over to Pretty Springs?”

“Why, I guess so. I heard about your little project to save the springs. Are you making any progress?”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it. Send Matilda. King Vandergriff will love having her, I’m sure.”

“It’s nice of you to set up dates for me,” a deep voice said behind Kaylyn. “Who’s Matilda?”

Kaylyn turned around quickly. “What are you doing here?” He was standing in the doorway, dusty and disheveled, his hair frosted with red Georgia dust and his face ruddy from working outdoors.

“I live here, remember?”

He sat down on a chair near the door and removed his boots. This time his socks were a soft peach color. Kaylyn tried to concentrate on her phone conversation with Esther. She really did. But thoughts of a pregnant donkey slid out of her mind, replaced with a titillating and unwanted question. Was King Vandergriff’s underwear coordinated tonight? It looked for all the world as if she were about to find out. He had removed his shirt and was unzipping his pants.

“What are you doing?” she asked, shocked.

“I’m about to take a bath.”

“Right here?”

“Well, not in the kitchen sink. I thought I’d try your springs.”

“W-w-well,” she said, stuttering like a Victorian matron about to be subjected to a peep show. “Of course. I mean, technically, you do own them. I mean, if you want to bathe in them, that’s fine.” Dammit! she thought. This was going too far!

“I’m glad you see it that way.” He stood and slid the dusty jeans down his hard, muscular legs.

“I do,” she whispered. He
was
coordinated. She lifted her gaze from his skimpy peach-colored briefs and saw the knowing amusement on his face.

“Care to slip into your Lady Godiva bikini and join me?” he asked.

“Certainly not. I have to make another phone call. You go on. I’ll be here for—for a long time.” She said a rattled good-bye to Esther and punched in the number of the
Pretty Springs Gazette.
The phone rang on the other end, and a solemn voice said, “Turner’s Mortuary.”

“Whoops, wrong number. Sorry.”

Blushing, she focused on the phone and tried again.

King chuckled heartily, draped a towel around his waist, then went out the door and slammed it shut behind him with a jaunty slap of his hand. Kaylyn closed her eyes and cursed softly. After two more attempts at calling the newspaper, she heard the words, “
Pretty Springs Gazette
, Tom Brolin speaking.”

“Tom. I’m so glad I got you.”

“Kaylyn, is there something wrong?”

“Yes! I mean, no. How’s my plight impressing the national media?”

“The national press carried you the first day and that’s all. Even locally the issue isn’t stirring up as much opinion as we’d hoped, though I’m trying. Trouble is, most folks don’t share your belief in the medical benefits of the springs, and they’ll picnic in their backyards if they can have some of the income King’s project promises. Sorry, babe.”

She rubbed her forehead wearily. “Well, I’ve fought tougher battles and won. What about the soup line?”

“The church has volunteered to provide the funds, but they don’t have the membership’s permission to use the church’s facilities yet. Got any ideas?”

“Yes. Bring them here, to the springs. I don’t have anything else to do. I’ll cook for them for a day or two until we find an answer.”

“I think you’re running a big risk. King Vandergriff might tolerate
you
, but will he put up with ten or twelve dirty, down-on-their-luck vagrants?”

“He tolerated Harold. As a matter of fact, would you believe that he sprung him and gave him a job here at the site? I couldn’t believe it. I think he’s actually fond of the old man.”

“There may be more to Vandergriff than you’ve given him credit for. You’re sure you want to feed those derelicts?”

“They aren’t derelicts, Tom. They’re just homeless people like Harold. They don’t want handouts, they want work. And I have the perfect answer. If they walk my picket line, I’ll pay them off in food and clean clothes.”

“Might work, at that. What about a five-o’clock supper? I bring them out about four. We’ll get them cleaned up and fed, and they’ll have a few minutes
before dark to walk your picket line near the road. They don’t have to picket long to make your point.”

“Fine. You bring the food in the morning.”

Kaylyn hung up the phone and glanced out the window. She gasped. From where she was standing, she could see straight into her camp area. Now she understood why King had placed his trailer in this spot. He could watch every move she made, including … damn! He could see her bathing spot. Had he been watching her as she took her morning bath and her afternoon swim?

At that moment King came into view. He stood majestically at the edge of the springs, wearing nothing but his briefs. He walked gracefully into the water, stood for a moment in the moonlight, then bent forward and dived out of sight. When he surfaced, he shook his head, slinging water from his thick golden hair.

Where were Harold and Sandi? Kaylyn wondered abruptly. She couldn’t see either of them, and the van was gone. She watched King slide both hands up and down his chest. He shrugged his powerful shoulders to fling some of the water from them, then waded toward the edge of the pool. He stopped in knee-deep water and turned slightly so that she could see his … Well, she could see that his underwear was as revealing as her bikini had been three days ago.

She suddenly realized that he was looking straight at her. He smiled broadly and moved his head in a come-hither nod.

That turkey, she thought. He knew she was watching him! And he was posing just for her benefit! He also knew
what
, specifically, she was watching. She
was certain he suspected that her heart was pounding against her chest wall and that an exquisite warmth was centered low in her stomach.

He was the most supremely self-confident man she’d ever encountered. And possibly the most appealing.

Well, he was in for a big surprise. He’d invited her to accompany him in a swim. That was just what she’d do. She still had the string bikini, and what was good for the gander—the king gander—was good for the goose. Or something like that. It was hard to keep her thoughts straight under the circumstances.

She went outside and strode across the rocky border dividing their camps. King bowed at her as she passed. Inside her tent, she changed into her bikini. When she returned, he was stretched out on a flat, moonlit rock adjacent to the pool, his eyes closed. She heard his exaggerated sigh.

“You know, darlin’,” he murmured, “you’re right about one thing.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“These springs are very refreshing. I can see why you like to swim in them.”

“Too bad you don’t have some kind of medical condition so that I could prove my theory.” She was standing over him as she answered.

He opened his eyes and saw the incredible sight of Kaylyn Smith in the bikini again. Damn. This time no wig provided a shield between her appealing body and his reaction. He’d been more than half aroused
before
he’d bathed in the springs, and now his own scanty attire left him no secrets. He watched her gaze flicker over him quickly, pause, then move away.

“Awwwk!” He rolled off the rock into the water,
grasping his chest in exaggerated pain. “I think I’m having an attack of the vapors! Save me.”

She laughed and plunged into the opposite end of the pool. “Wrong kind of problem, your highness. Though the springs have been known to lower a man’s blood pressure, I don’t think they’ll have an effect on
your
predicament.” She hesitated and her voice became sly. “There was a time in the early 1900s when it was believed that the springs helped treat impotence.”

“Lady, that is a problem I definitely don’t have, in spite of the temperature of this water. Doesn’t it ever get warm?”

“Well, warmer maybe, in the middle of the day. But this water comes from the ice age, when it was trapped down in the underlying rock strata. It’s been there ever since. That’s what makes the mineral content so high—the water leaches minerals from the rocks. There aren’t any other springs with this composition, except one in the Caribbean.”

“I vote for the Caribbean.” He stood up, the water lapping just below his nipples. Even in the shadows she could tell that his gaze was on her.

She paddled to a deep spot and treaded water slowly. She was grateful for the man’s undivided attention. That was what she’d wanted. Now that she had it, she wasn’t going to waste it. She began to speak softly, carefully.

King listened to Kaylyn’s impassioned defense of the springs, but his attention wasn’t on the information. It was on the woman giving it. He’d never met anybody so dedicated. He’d never seen a woman so natural and open about her emotions. He shook his head. He’d also never passed up an opportunity
to romance a fascinating woman, troublesome or not. Why start now?

He dived suddenly, cut through the water in front of her like a sleek dolphin, and surfaced inches from her face. “Tell me more,” he whispered.

She started back, dog-paddling. “Yes, well, we know that the interest in these springs dates back to the time of the Cherokees. They recognized its healing properties. They even held religious ceremonies on Lizard Rock. And as I keep trying to explain to you, the interest continued into the 1900s.”

He treaded water, listening intently, keeping close to her as she talked. “So explain to me, darlin’.”

“The water was bottled and sold for all kinds of medicinal purposes. There was even a resort hotel here, where people came to take the baths.” She reached the rock on the opposite side of the pool, a shallower spot where she could stand with the water just below her collarbones. He followed her.

“How nice,” he said huskily. “History repeating itself. Now I’m going to build a resort here. You’re beautiful, Kaylyn Smith.” He reached out and placed his hands on the rock on either side of her.

He was so close, she could feel the hair on his legs. Her nipples grazed his chest, and her lower body recognized and responded to the contact it made with his.

“Don’t do this,” she whispered, her voice deep and husky.

“I have to, Kaylyn. And you want me to. You know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t even like you,” she said.

“You don’t know me,” he corrected her, his big hands moving to clasp her shoulders.

“I don’t want to.” She’d passed the protesting stage. Her breathlessness was evidence of her interest, and she knew that King was as caught up in the moment as she. The moonlight made his eyes look silver with desire.

“Your lips want to,” he whispered. “They’re pursed, inviting me to do this.”

He bent down and touched her upper lip with his tongue. The shiver that ricocheted through her was more than obvious to the man now invading her mouth, gently at first, then with an intensity that stunned her. Her arms slid around his neck, and she felt herself slide tightly against him. He pulled her legs around his hips.

“Kaylyn, I …”

“King, I …”

“Hello! Kaylyn? Are you here?” The woman’s voice trilled across the springs and jerked both Kaylyn and King back to reality.

“Damn!” he swore. He gently guided Kaylyn to the shallow side. “Now what?”

As if in answer, a raucous, earsplitting bray pierced the silence.

“What the hell?” He pulled himself out of the springs and wrapped his towel around his lower body. Kaylyn followed suit, slipping her arms into an oversize shirt hanging on a nearby bush. She turned the switch on her battery-powered lantern, and a bright pool of light illuminated the area.

“We’re here,” the unseen woman said. “We came right away. It’s a good thing the shelter is so close by.” An odd-shaped little woman wearing army khakis and an Australian bush hat walked into the clearing leading a very round, very reluctant brown
donkey. The donkey took one look at King, yanked its lead rope out of the woman’s hands, and trotted forward to rub its head against King’s arm.

The woman laughed. “This is Matilda. I’m so glad you two have agreed to give her a foster home. She’s due to foal any day now.”

King suddenly noticed the stack of placards and protest signs piled beside Kaylyn’s tent. “What are those?” he asked.

“For my picket line.”

“What’s this donkey doing here?”

“I’m giving her a foster home, King.”

She felt a twinge of guilt at his stunned expression. Maybe she’d gone too far. Maybe she should have given him an opportunity to talk before—

“Foster home?” he repeated angrily. “For a pregnant donkey? That does it!” He whirled and stomped back toward his trailer. Matilda trotted after him, braying in protest at being left behind. Kaylyn ran after them both.

“Get that animal away from me!” King stood on the top step of his travel trailer and glared at Kaylyn.

“I think she likes you.” Kaylyn grabbed the trailing end of Matilda’s rope and braced her feet. She threw a hopeful glance over her shoulder at Esther, who was spellbound by the sight of King Vandergriff wearing a skimpy black towel tied loosely about his hips.

“Esther? Esther!” Kaylyn called to no avail. “Esther, did you see Sandi and Harold?”

“Um … yes. They’re over by Lizard Rock talking to a man named Mac.”

Matilda lunged and planted her front hooves on the trailer’s middle step.

“Kaylyn!” King warned.

This was one time Kaylyn couldn’t blame King for his fury. She had to have help, and it was obvious that Esther wasn’t going to be it. “Sandi!” she yelled desperately. “Sandi, come and help me!”