Desert Rain with Bonus Material, Page 2

  “I didn’t realize Jerry had been at me for three hours,” she said. “It caught up with me all at once.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Sure.”

  Roger turned Holly so that her face was not in shadow.

  “You are pale,” he said, alarmed.

  She shrugged.

  “I shouldn’t have trusted Jerry,” Roger said. “He’s beastly with models who won’t sleep with him.”

  “It’s not all Jerry’s fault that I’m pale.”

  Roger said something contradictory under his breath.

  “But it’s true,” Holly said.

  As far as she was concerned, if anyone was to blame for her wan state, it was a man called Lincoln McKenzie, not Jerry.

  No, that’s not fair either, Holly told herself. I’m to blame. I was the one who let memories and dreams seduce me.

  Sweet memories.

  Sweet dreams.

  Bitter reality.

  Holly didn’t know why Linc hated her now. She only knew that he did.

  “I get wrapped up in what I’m doing and forget about time,” Holly added carelessly.

  “I know. It’s one of the things that makes you such a fantastic model.”

  Roger’s blue eyes narrowed as he took in the lines of strain around Holly’s eyes and lips. He stroked her hair away from her elegant face.

  “You look positively transparent, love,” he said in a low voice. “Go back to the hotel and lie out by the pool. Not too long, or—”

  “—I’ll get tan lines and won’t be able to wear half your designs,” finished Holly, smiling crookedly.

  Roger laughed and gave her a quick hug.

  “That’s why I love you,” he said. “You understand me so well.”

  “You love every model who looks good in your clothes,” Holly pointed out.

  “Ah, but you look the best so I love you the best.”

  Holly smiled even as she shook her head. She took Roger seriously as a designer and as a friend, not as a potential lover.

  Roger would have liked it otherwise, but he was wise enough to know that if he insisted on seducing her, he risked losing her. If he settled for friendship, he would continue to have Shannon’s unique, incandescent presence to grace his products.

  For her part, Holly felt no more physical attraction toward Roger than she had felt for any man since Linc. Roger’s kindness and his quick wit, however, had made him one of her favorite people. She needed his friendship in the cold, slick world that Shannon inhabited.

  “Sorry to break up this little love feast,” said a man’s hard voice, “but I was told I’d find Roger Royce here.”

  Even as Holly turned, she knew she would find Linc. She could no more forget his voice than she could forget the feel of his skin beneath her palms.

  “I’m Royce,” Roger said.

  “Lincoln McKenzie.”

  Linc’s voice was flat. He didn’t offer his hand or add anything to his clipped statement.

  Roger looked Linc over from the top of his curly chestnut hair to the dusty soles of his cowboy boots. Like a race announcer, Roger gave a running description of what he saw.

  “Six four, maybe five,” Roger said. “Good muscle development. Well defined but not overdone. Dreadful cowboy clothes, but you won’t be wearing them if I use you.”

  Holly held her breath, wondering what Linc would do in response to being looked over like a thoroughbred on the auction block.

  “Clean hands,” Roger continued. “Good legs, lean but still powerful. Expensive boots. All in all, not bad. Quite good, actually. Except for the face. Too . . . dangerous. Husbands would take one look at you and decide not to buy Royce products. Can you smile, Lincoln McKenzie?”

  Linc’s smile made a chill move down Holly’s arms. She didn’t know what game Roger was playing, but she knew he was playing it with the wrong man.

  “No,” Roger said, shaking his head. “You won’t do at all. Tell your agency to send out someone pretty. And tell them to be quick about it. We shoot at Hidden Springs on Monday.”

  Linc’s smile vanished, leaving nothing to soften the hard planes of his face.

  “No,” Linc said.

  Holly couldn’t help staring at him. This was not the Lincoln McKenzie she remembered. This man didn’t look capable of tenderness. His mouth was too unyielding to have the warmth and sweetness she remembered.

  “No what?” Roger asked. “No, your agency doesn’t have anyone pretty, or no, they can’t be quick about sending another male model out?”

  “No. Period.”

  “Come, come,” Roger said, his British accent increasing along with his impatience. “One can carry the tight-lipped western man act too far, you know.”

  Linc laughed with genuine amusement.

  “I’m male, but not a model,” Linc said. “I don’t have an agency, but I’ve seen men prettier than me. You, for instance. A nicely civilized Viking.”

  Surprised, Roger smiled in return. He cocked his head to one side, reassessing the tall man in front of him.

  “Not a model?” Roger asked.

  “No.”

  “Pity. You have possibilities. And brains.”

  “I also have control of Hidden Springs.”

  “Oh. That’s where we’re going to shoot on Monday.”

  “No. That’s where you’re not going to shoot on Monday or any other day.”

  Roger frowned and released the lock of Holly’s hair that he had been absently playing with.

  “Would you mind explaining that?” Roger asked.

  “Not at all.”

  Linc’s smile made Holly wince, though he was not looking at her, had not looked at her since he had found her in Roger’s arms.

  “I don’t like jet-set parasites and their prostitutes,” Linc said clearly. “I won’t have them on my ranch.”

  If Holly had been pale before, being called a prostitute made her go white. She was too shocked by Linc’s words to defend herself or to say anything about who really owned Hidden Springs.

  Roger looked sideways at Holly. He knew that Hidden Springs was on land owned by Sandra Productions. In fact, it was Holly who had suggested that Hidden Springs would make an ideal backdrop for Roger’s new line of products.

  He put his arm around Holly in a protective gesture and turned to confront Linc.

  “I sell style, period,” Roger said in a clipped voice.

  Linc shrugged and looked at Holly.

  “You may be selling style,” he said, “but she’s selling something more basic.”

  Linc’s cool appraisal of Holly’s body was more insulting than any man’s touch had ever been.

  “Apologize to Shannon,” Roger said, “and then leave.”

  “I don’t apologize for telling the truth. If she can’t stand the name, she should get out of the game.”

  Anger flared in Holly, burning away the pain that had frozen her. She stepped out of the protective curve of Roger’s arm and confronted Linc with a flashing, professional smile.

  “I’m going to enjoy the shoot at Hidden Springs,” she said in a husky voice. “Knowing that you don’t want us there will make every minute . . . special.”

  “No one steps on that land without my permission.”

  “Really?”

  “Bet on it.”

  Holly’s smile vanished.

  “You lose, Lincoln McKenzie,” she said. “We have a little piece of paper from the owner of Hidden Springs that says we can camp there all summer if we like.”

  Linc’s face changed, showing surprise and some other emotion that was too complex to be easily labeled.

  “Holly?” he asked incredulously. “Do you mean that Holly North gave you permission to use Hidden Springs?”

  For a moment she was too stunned to speak. The fact that Linc hadn’t recognized her brought both relief and unexpected pain.

  In the wake of pain came the realization that she shouldn’t have been surprised that Linc di
dn’t recognize her. The only thing about her that hadn’t changed in the last six years was the unusual color of her eyes, and that was concealed behind sunglasses.

  Fortunately, Roger was also too surprised to say that Holly North and Shannon were one and the same woman. Before he could find his tongue, she did.

  “Yes,” she said. “Holly North gave us permission to use Hidden Springs.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Linc. “Holly wouldn’t associate with people like you.”

  She put a restraining hand on Roger’s arm, afraid he would reveal who she was.

  “Let me defend Holly,” she murmured to Roger. “After all, she’s my best friend.”

  She turned to Linc again.

  “Do you know Holly very, very well?” she asked.

  Her voice was pure Shannon, bright and cold.

  Roger snickered.

  “I knew Holly.” Linc’s voice was as hard as the line of his mouth. “It’s been six years since I saw her.”

  “People change,” she suggested lightly. “They must. The Holly I know would never have put up with a dirty-minded boor.”

  “The Holly I knew would never hang around with prostitutes.”

  “On that, we are in perfect agreement,” she snapped, dropping her brittle accent for a tone closer to outright anger.

  Surprisingly, Linc smiled.

  “Maybe you do know her after all,” he conceded.

  “Better than you ever did,” Holly retorted.

  Instantly she regretted it. She didn’t want Linc to investigate how close her relationship was to Holly.

  She couldn’t bear to know that the contempt in his eyes was directed at herself rather than the high-fashion creation called Shannon.

  “I know Holly well enough to guarantee that we’ll shoot at Hidden Springs on Monday,” she said.

  “I’m managing that land for Holly. If I say no, she’ll say no.”

  “You’ll have to get to her first,” Roger pointed out, suppressing a smile. “I think she’s on a desert safari.”

  “That’s right,” Holly said quickly. “She won’t be back in Manhattan for weeks. I’m afraid that you lose both this battle and the whole bloody war.”

  “You’ve spoiled her,” Linc said lazily to Roger. “Mongrels like that one need a firm hand if you want them to show well in the Companion Class.”

  Wind whipped Holly’s hair across Linc’s face as she leaned forward. He flinched as though her hair were black fire.

  “I’ll bet you’re one of those tall, tight-lipped men who is only good with dogs and horses,” she murmured.

  Roger moved uneasily. “Shannon—”

  Holly shook off his warning and gave Linc her most seductive smile. Through the tinted glasses her eyes were dark, nearly brown, brilliant with anger and pain.

  To be so close to Linc again and see only contempt in his look was almost more than Holly could bear. She had hoped he would be drawn to her beauty, that he would see her and return her love, a love that hadn’t wavered in all the long years of their separation.

  “Dogs,” Linc drawled, “are docile, obedient and loyal, unlike beautiful women.”

  “You noticed,” Holly murmured, lowering her thick lashes.

  “That you’re beautiful?” Linc shrugged. “Lightning’s beautiful, too, but only a fool wants to touch it.”

  “Then crawl back under your rock, tall man,” Holly said between her teeth. “Lightning won’t reach you there.”

  For a moment there was only charged silence beneath the awning of the catering truck. Then a pouting, breathless voice spoke from behind Linc’s back.

  “There you are, Linc, honey. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Numbly Holly watched as the stranger rubbed against Linc’s arm like a hungry cat. The woman was everything that Holly was not—tiny, blond, and lushly built.

  Next to Linc’s hard body she looked delicate and delicious. If her figure had a fault, it lay in her ample bottom. Few men would have noticed the flaw, or objected if they did.

  Linc smiled down at the woman. Even though she was wearing very high heels, the top of her head barely reached to his breastbone.

  “Hi, Cyn,” Linc said. “Tired of shopping already?”

  Cyn gave Linc a pout that Jerry would have loved to photograph. Fingernails as pink as the tip of her tongue scratched lightly down Linc’s arm.

  “I picked out three dresses and the cutest little negligee you ever saw,” she said.

  Then Cyn glanced sideways at Holly. Her blue eyes were as hard as glass.

  “The negligee is meant for a woman, not a giraffe,” Cyn added sweetly.

  Linc laughed and wound a lock of her fine blond hair around his finger.

  “Sharpened your claws, too, didn’t you?” he asked.

  The last of Holly’s dream broke around her as she watched the easy intimacy between the man she loved and the lush, beautiful woman called Cyn.

  Well, now I know why he never wrote me, Holly thought starkly. He was too busy with his busty blond.

  Holly felt like running away and hiding, but her face showed nothing at all. She was every inch the professional model posing for the most important assignment of her career.

  Life had taught Holly that you either fought back or went under. She hadn’t gone under when her parents died. She would survive the death of her childish dreams, too.

  At least, Shannon would survive.

  “You bought only dresses?” Holly murmured, glancing at Cyn’s hips with a knowing smile. “Roger could design a pair of pants for you. I’m sure we have some cloth around here somewhere, don’t we, Roger?”

  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 won’t quite get the job done, will it?”

  Cyn’s 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. “I’d sympathize, except you have only your own bad taste to blame.”

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

  “I’ll 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.

  Three

  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. “I’ve 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.

  “It’s not exactly Central Park out there,” he said. “It’s a ruddy wilderness.”

  “If it were Central Park, I’d 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.

  Roger’s pale eyebrows rose.

  “You’re not Shannon now, are you?” he asked quietly.

  “I’m off duty.”

  Shaking his head, Roger looked at Holly’s 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. “You’re the most amazing creature. If it weren’t for your eyes, I swear I wouldn’t recognize you. No wonder the photographers love you.”

  “Sure,” Holly said, her tone icy. “I’m 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 Holly’s arm and squeezed gently.

  “I didn’t mean that the way you took it,” he said.

  “I know.” Holly sighed. “I suppose I didn’t 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 isn’t your style. We both know it.”

  “You’re my style,” Roger said. “Let me come with you. I promise I won’t get in the way.”

  Holly simply stared at him.

  Level blue eyes looked back at her.

  “You’re serious,” she said after a moment.

  “Quite.”

  Holly felt a familiar sinking in her stomach at what she saw in Roger’s 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.