Time After Time (20 page)

Some quirk of the moonlight made his face look sad, almost wistful, as he continued. "But no dream would lead me to them. That's not what the dreams are about."

"Hundreds?" she echoed, then whistled under her breath in admiration. "Your little black book must be the size of the Dallas yellow pages." When he didn't comment, she stood abruptly and swung away from him. "Your delicate principles are a little difficult to believe. You were the one who said this was all about

sex." She shook her head restlessly. "I don't know what you want from me. What is it we're supposed to find up here? Some kind of timeless, everlasting love? A star-crossed destiny?"

"Maybe."

The word was a whisper that barely penetrated the silence, but to Leah it seemed as loud as an erupting volcano—and just as dangerous. Before she could recover from the shock, he began to speak again.

"I just don't know," he admitted wryly. "I'm as much in the dark as you are. I only know that what we started tonight wasn't it... not yet."

She couldn't respond. How did one respond to insanity? That softly spoken "maybe" was way outside the realm of reality.

Inhaling slowly, she turned away and walked into the house. She left needing him, hating him. And loving him more than ever.

Chapter Nine

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows,
A Midsummer Night's Dream
—Act II, Scene 2

L
eah felt a slap on her rear and wiggled in protest, pushing her head deeper into the pillow. She was popped again, this time with enough force for her to feel it through the cover. "Come on, lazybones. It's time to get up." She moaned and rolled onto her back, opening one eye to stare up at the man standing beside the bed. With the one eye that was open, she examined him. The gray sweatshirt he wore had seen better days. The sleeves were only a ragged memory, exposing the full length of his tanned, muscular arms. Tight, faded jeans molded his hips and thighs. "Who're you?" she asked thickly.

He chuckled, leaning down to place a hand on either side of her head. "I'm a new day," he said. The bright, cheerful note in his voice set her teeth on edge. "I'm the harbinger of wonderful things to come."

"You're an escaped lunatic," she said warily as he straightened away from her.

What new mood was this? she wondered as she sat up. It was as though her miserable attempt at seduction the night before had never happened. Which suited her just fine, she thought grimly. But even if he had decided to have a convenient memory lapse for the sake of diplomatic relations, that didn't explain the way he was dressed, or his jolly mood. It was on a par with Prince Charles pretending to be a good old boy.

She didn't understand it, but that couldn't prevent a tingle of excitement from attacking her sleep-numbed limbs.

"Abby used to pour a glass of cold water on me when I wouldn't get out of bed," he said.

She didn't trust the look in his green eyes. "Who's Abby?" she asked, pushing the tangled blond hair from her face.

"My nanny."

Leah gave an inelegant snort. "No one in Texas has a nanny."

"I did. And she taught me something very important."

"What's that?" she asked. Her lips curved upward in a bemused smile as she stared at his twinkling eyes and animated expression.

"She taught me that a day without cold water splashed in your face is a joy to wake up to."

She laughed huskily, then glanced toward the glass wall. "Was it my imagination, or did it rain last night?"

"It rained."

"Where are the puddles? The morning mist?"

He moved toward the door. "This ground drinks water almost as fast as it comes down." He looked back at her. "Come ort, move. Breakfast is getting cold. And wear something rugged. We're going to explore the world today."

As soon as he was out of the room, she pushed back the cover and scrambled from the bed.

Five minutes later she walked out onto the deck. Paul turned toward her, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. He closed his mouth abruptly and stared at the designer jeans that were the color of ripe wheat and the pale rust, short-sleeved blouse.

"When you decide to get rugged you don't hold back, do you?" he said, shaking his head. "That outfit's perfect for backpacking around Beverly Hills."

She sat down beside him at the table and began to fill her plate with bacon and scrambled eggs. "It was either this or a pink, rhinestone-studded jumpsuit," she said in unconcern. "Someone forgot to tell me to bring clothes suitable for roughing it. But even if I had known, I couldn't have matched that." She waved a piece of bacon at his sweatshirt. "What did you do— mug a street person?"

He caught her hand and took half her bacon in a single bite. "This is my lucky sweatshirt."

"It's lucky it's not dipped in gasoline and used to clean auto parts," she agreed.

She listened with pleasure to his deep laughter as she swallowed the sweet orange juice. For some reason the world seemed to be sparkling this morning. There was an intoxicating freshness to the air. The colors of the rocks seemed sharper and clearer.

"Are you through?" he asked with obvious impatience.

She rose to her feet, then picked up the plates from the table and carried them to the kitchen. "Am I making you late for an appointment?"

"Yes." He took the plates from her, quickly shook the scraps into the sink, then shoved the dishes into the dishwasher. Picking up a canvas knapsack, he grabbed her hand. "Now, let's go," he said, pulling her toward the front door.

It closed behind them, the sound muffling whatever he was saying.

"What?" she said, following helplessly along behind him. "I can't hear you."

"I said I wish you had decent shoes."

She glanced down at her canvas tennis shoes. "What's wrong with my shoes?"

"Nothing, if you're playing tennis, but they haven't got much grip to them."

When she jerked her hand out of his, he stopped walking and turned to look at her. "Why do my shoes

need grip?" she asked slowly. "What do you intend for them to hold on to?"

A slow grin curved his strong lips. "The side of a mountain."

It wasn't actually as bad as he made it sound. For the rest of the morning they explored the sloping country around the house. Gradually she came to know and accept the stark beauty of the land. Paul showed her dozens of different plants, explaining in his quiet voice how each managed to survive in the dry climate. They saw strange, intricate rock formations that towered above the landscape, and deep ravines that cut through it. As the morning passed she not only felt a growing fascination for the land, she also felt it for the man beside her.

Hours later they sat on a ledge shaded by an overhanging rock. The sun's rays made the air a white-hot screen between them and the rest of the world, fading the brightness of the morning.

She glanced at Paul. "What's in the knapsack?"

"Lunch."

Scrambling to her knees, she grabbed the bag. "I was hoping you would say that," she said eagerly, and began pulling out the food.

Either the air or the exercise had given Leah an appetite. She couldn't remember ever being so hungry. As they ate, they talked lazily of the things they had seen that morning. Then talk died away, and they leaned against the rock in easy companionship.

"No matter how many times I look at that," she said, staring out across the landscape, "I always see something different."

"So do I. And I've been coming here for years." Shifting his position, he repacked the knapsack, then glanced at his watch. "Our lunch has had time to settle. How tired are you?"

She sat up straighter. "Not at all," she said, her answer surprising her. "This morning has been very basic, hasn't it? It gave me—oh, I don't know—I guess a sense of power describes it best. Definitely a sense of accomplishment. I suppose it appeals to the part of my brain that's left over from prehistoric days. There are no artificial, man-made complications here. Just us and nature."

She caught his grin and laughed. "That will teach you to ask me a question. I didn't mean to go into a monologue, but I've really enjoyed this."

"Good," he said, rising to his feet. "Let's go."

"Where?"

He lifted his eyes to the rock face behind them. "Up."

The next two hours were the most challenging of Leah's life. When he'd said up, he'd meant straight up. To an experienced climber the ascent would have been a snap, but to a junior executive, city born and bred, it felt like scaling Mount Everest.

After a while, when she felt the strength begin to drain out of her limbs, Leah kept going because she didn't want to disappoint Paul. Then suddenly she began to climb because she didn't want to disappoint

herself. Perspiration ran down her face, stinging her eyes and blurring her vision, as she scrambled for hidden footholds in the rock face. Her knuckles were scraped, her fingernails broken, her feet and knees bruised. But she refused to give up.

Several times he paused, his face blank as he watched her progress and waited for her to catch up. His face might have been blank, but he watched her with such intensity that she knew his thoughts were full.

The world had been reduced to one section of the mountain, and she became totally obsessed with straining every muscle to move the next few feet upward. Each time she pulled herself up to the next level, Leah knew the next move would be the last she could possibly make, but somehow she managed that one last move again and yet again.

She was vaguely aware that Paul had disappeared over a ledge five feet above her. But when he spoke, his voice startled her.

"Just a couple feet more, and then I'll pull you up," he called down to her.

"No—"Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She clenched her teeth together. "I... can... do... it."

She had long since forgotten why it was important; she only knew that she had to do it alone, without his help. Drawing up her bent knee, she planted a foot on a small jutting rock, then used the foothold to push herself upward. Two more feet covered. Two less to climb.

Minutes later the ledge was under her fingers. She found a small crevice with her foot and pushed up, straightening her arms against the rock surface. Now the top half of her body was above the ledge. Paul was on his knees beside her, waiting and watching.

Drawing in a deep breath, she slung her right leg over the edge and heaved herself up and over. Then she collapsed full-length on the hot, flat rock. She was there.

Leah couldn't think. She could only lie there and force stinging air into her lungs. She didn't open her eyes, even when she felt him pick her up and move her into the shade, keeping her in his lap when he sat down.

When it stopped hurting to breathe, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. The pain was receding, and the triumph began a slow explosion inside her. Suddenly she began to laugh. She laughed uncontrollably, hugging him, spreading kisses across his hard, dirt-streaked face.

As though he understood, Paul rocked back and forth with her in his arms and laughed, sharing her triumph.

After a while she shifted in his lap and pulled at her perspiration-drenched blouse. "Paul, this is disgusting. We're sticking together."

When he didn't say anything, she glanced up at him. "What's wrong?"

"That's the first time you've ever called me Paul," . he said quietly. Smiling, he stood up and set her on her

feet. "Now, are you ready to throw your arms around my neck and give me much adulation?"

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I never adulate even in the best of circumstances, which these are definitely not."

"Never say never." He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around.

Leah blinked, her mouth opening, then closing again in amazement. The rock platform where they stood was cut deeply into the side of the mountain, and there, in a sheltered corner, was an oasis.

With a mere whisper of sound, a thin curtain of glistening water slid across boulders, collecting in smooth basins hollowed out of solid rocks. Some held a scant cupful of water, some were as large as bathtubs. But it was the main basin that drew her eye. It was at least twelve feet across, and deep. Around its edges, in crevices and tiny alcoves, plants grew lush and green.

"Paul," she whispered in awe. "Oh,
Paul."
Swinging around abruptly, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed both sides of his strong jaw.

"Are you, by any chance, adulating?"

"I'm adulating like you've never seen anyone adulate before." She hugged him. "It's
paradise.
We climbed the 'steep and thorny way' and reached heaven."

His eyes shone as he glanced from her to the pool and grinned. "Ready?"

Seconds later they ran into the water. They played and splashed like two kids playing hooky. Eagerly they

washed away the dust, letting the water soothe their cuts and scrapes. It felt like a healing place.

It was much later when they climbed out and stretched out on the smooth rock, letting the sun dry the clothes on their bodies.