Spring Fires Read online

  Until an investigation was completed, the fire's exact cause would not be known, but it was generally believed to have been started by sparks from a faulty generator igniting the crude oil which had blown out when the drilling mud was too thin for the unexpected high pressure. As Stacy understood it, the emphasis now was on capping the well and thus eliminating the fire's supply of fuel.

  Drew, standing with Bob, watched the truck's arrival with obvious disapproval. He climbed onto the running board and, leaning in through the window, demanded, "What in God's name are you doing here? This place is too dangerous for a woman—especially one who doesn't have any common sense."

  Her wide brown eyes held a mute appeal as they locked on his tight angry features. Her position was indefensible, but she decided to brazen it out. "I couldn't just sit around twiddling my thumbs!"

  Stacy's last shred of confidence deserted her as Drew's expression tightened. His knuckles, clenching the window frame, turned white as he considered his options. Stacy had correctly assumed that he could not spare the time or a crewman to drive her home, and he probably did not trust her enough to let her go on her own.

  In a terse voice he barked, "Stay here and don't you dare move. We don't have any time to waste."

  Stunned by his vehemence, Stacy remained silent.

  "Can I trust you?"

  "Yes, Mr. Pitman," she agreed meekly, secretly pleased that she had been permitted to stay for the final moments.

  Drew darted her a suspicious glance, distrusting her easy capitulation. "Just remember what I said," he returned darkly. Then without further comment he turned his attention to the men gathered around the trucks and instructed them on the requisite details.

  Stacy sat wide eyed, absorbing all of the meticulous preparations. Everything set, Drew and two assistants were helped into fireproof suits. Protective water hoses were trained on them to reduce the blistering heat as they walked into the inferno to set the explosive charges. The charges were to be placed so that their detonation would cut off the air supply which fed the flames. Then armed with extinguishers and guarding against reignition, the men would cap the well to stop the escaping flow of gas and oil.

  Stacy fixed her eyes on the blaze and breathed a prayer for the brave men; her watch ticked steadily as minutes dragged past. A deep sigh trembled from her lips when at last she saw three bulky forms emerging in blackened asbestos suits. Moments later the air was split by a rapid series of sharp explosions. As suddenly as the fire had started, the flames were gone. Men and equipment advanced and within five minutes the well was capped.

  The valiant men stripped off their air packs and protective clothing. Stacy spotted Drew unharmed; his tan chiseled face was flushed, the sweat-soaked shirt stuck to his chest and arms, revealing his muscular build.

  "Thank God they are safe!" she said, whispering her gratitude. Her eyes glistened with tears of happiness.

  After receiving congratulations from Bob and his men, Drew approached the truck and his feminine audience. He cracked a boyish smile as he perceived her undisguised relief.

  Drew reaffirmed the obvious. "It worked!"

  "That was terrific!"

  "Just shows what good teamwork can do," he answered, giving well-deserved credit to his crew.

  Stacy admired his modesty, but she concealed these feelings and said, "You're lucky to have such a crew."

  "Yep. Wouldn't be without them." He wiped the sweat from his brow. "Sure could go for a tall cold drink right about now."

  "We have cold beer back at the trailer," offered Stacy.

  "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

  Drew threw open the cab door and stood by and watched while Stacy hopped down. She practically ran to keep up with Drew as he strode over to a Jeep. Without a moment's hesitation he grasped her around the waist and neatly lifted her inside.

  Stacy plunked herself down in the seat, flustered by the intimate contact. "It wasn't necessary for you to manhandle me!"

  Drew lifted an expressive eyebrow. "I thought we were in a hurry."

  Stacy gave up. Then she looked around. "Where's Dad?"

  "He'll be along in a few minutes."

  Not at all certain she wanted to be alone with this unpredictable man, Stacy continued her questions. "What's keeping him?"

  "He has to get things organized for the clean-up."

  "Can't it wait?"

  "Not with a storm on its way."

  "I suppose you're right," she conceded, annoyed with herself for not realizing the obvious answer.

  "Of course." He threw her a winning smile.

  Not without effort, Stacy's pride forced her to resist his magnetism.

  The Jeep's front wheels churned up a fine layer of dust, spreading it over the occupants. Stacy turned away from the window to avoid its full effect. The breeze caught her mane of chestnut hair, fanning it around her face like a veil. Even the dust and sweat could not camouflage its flaming highlights.

  Stacy yielded to an irresistible urge and she covertly watched Drew through the protection of her thick brown lashes. She found herself unwillingly admiring his dexterity while he effortlessly guided the vehicle over the rutted track. Her eyes slowly edged up the length of his lean, muscular frame and cautiously examined his profile; fine lines radiated from the corner of his eye and a deep groove creased his cheek between his nose and the edge of his mouth. The sensuously full lower lip was in sharp relief to the narrow upper one.

  Stacy was unconsciously lured on by the man's appeal. She speculated on how it would feel to be held tenderly by those powerful arms and kissed with that passionate mouth. As the thought crystallized, she contemptuously dismissed it and spent the remaining minutes berating herself for being so easily beguiled.

  Drew eased the Jeep into a spot under a live oak tree across from the trailer, and before Stacy could recall herself to the present, he was at her side. She tried to ignore his extended hand, but he deftly grasped her arm when she stepped down. She unavoidably brushed against his body as her feet touched the ground, and shaking off his arm, she bolted away into the trailer.

  Unruffled, Drew strolled over to the steps and paused under the awning. Stacy returned to the doorway and held out an ice-cold can of beer. "Would you like a couple of sandwiches?" she offered, once more composed now that there was several feet of space between them.

  After taking a long swig of beer, Drew rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "What I'd really like is a hot shower."

  "Help yourself. Your suitcase is by the door. You can use the bedroom on the left. Fresh towels are hanging in the bathroom."

  "Thank you for your hospitality, ma'am."

  His overly polite response irritated his hostess, but she returned evenly, "No trouble at all."

  Drew carried his soft leather suitcase into the bedroom. Minutes later he reappeared clad in a terry-cloth robe and disappeared into the shower.

  Stacy ignored the splashing water and trained her attention on preparing a plate of meat sandwiches. Then she searched the pantry for pickles and mustard; she eventually spotted them on the top shelf. With a weary sigh, she got a dinette chair and balanced her feet on the narrow seat.

  As Stacy reached up to grasp the pickle jar, she was startled by a screech behind her. Spinning around to identify the strident sound, she yelped as she lost her balance. Arms automatically stretched out to break her fall, but instead of crashing onto the hard linoleum, Stacy's groping hands met the rough fabric of Drew's robe. She was caught up against his solid chest and took a trembling breath; her nostrils filled with the scent of clean damp skin and a woodsy after-shave lotion.

  "You should be more careful," said Drew softly.

  "You… you startled me," she weakly defended. The strong arms lifted her up and effortlessly carried her to the sofa.

  "Are you hurt?"

  "No… not at all."

  "Is this becoming a habit?"

  "What?"

  "Rescuing you."

  "What a
nerve! If you hadn't surprised me by opening that blasted door, it never would have happened!" she accused rashly.

  Drew's hands clasped her shoulders gently. "Calm down before you say something you'll regret."

  "Don't tell me what to do!" Stacy retorted impulsively. Far from calm, her body was intensely aware of burning sensations aroused by fingers gently massaging her shoulders. Lowering her eyes to hide their expression, she now found herself viewing the tanned column of his throat and the curling mat of blond hair exposed by the gaping lapels of his robe.

  "Take it easy. That is no way to reward me." His voice was soft but gently mocking.

  Stacy's eyes flew up; a smile hovered on his taunting lips.

  "What… do you mean?" she stammered.

  "This."

  Rising to his feet, he drew her stunned, unresisting body up with him and slid his arms around her back. He tightened his hold; his rock-hard muscles pressed against her soft curves. Stacy's breath was shallow— somewhere in the recesses of her mind a warning bell was frantically ringing; but her exhausted brain was too befuddled to heed its message.

  At first he pressed his taut lips lightly against her tender mouth, but as they touched, some basic instinct spurred him on. The kiss deepened… both unexpectedly lost to the world around them.

  A door slammed.

  Drew released the bemused girl slowly, but he kept one sinewy arm securely across her slim shoulders as he faced the intruders: Bob Davidson and Paul Elmwood!

  Stacy, writhing under their condemning inspection, blushed fiercely and tried to move away from Drew, but his arm was clamped on her shoulders. Her rosy color deepened as she registered the shock and dismay on both faces.

  "What's going on here?" The censorious note was unmistakable in her father's voice.

  Before she could find her voice, Stacy heard Drew announce smoothly, "You are the first to know; Stacy and I are engaged."

  They're the first to know, all right! Stacy's mind balked at his presumption. She glanced at the men; surprise registered on Paul's face, while her father's expression visibly lightened.

  "Well, well. Stacy, Drew, this comes as quite a surprise. I had no idea you even knew each other," said Bob pleasantly.

  Drew adroitly fielded his question. "Stacy and I have known each other for some time, but until now I thought she was too young to know her own mind."

  Stacy restrained a gasp at his audacity. He threw her a wicked smile as he continued, "I hope we haven't shocked you."

  With tremendous willpower Stacy regained her poise and opened her mouth to refute Drew's tale before things got out of control.

  Anticipating her action, Drew squeezed her shoulder warningly and added, "She's made me very happy."

  "That's fine. You're a lucky man." Bob smiled warmly at his daughter.

  Stacy, watching the men as Drew talked, realized that the announcement had truly pleased her father. Paul, on the other hand, was looking morose. She wondered why, but her attention was caught again as Drew ad-libbed: "Stacy, you should have told your father that we were dating when you were in secretarial school."

  She felt like screaming or stamping her foot, preferably on his instep. How brazen can he get! she stormed silently. He's complacently fabricating an entire affair. Next thing I know, he'll start naming places where we went on dates! Well, we'll just see about that!

  Aloud she said, "Yes, dear, you're 'right,' of course. I'm afraid I didn't mention it to Daddy because he was away at the time." Two could play this game.

  She felt a sharp pinch on her arm reprimanding her glib retort, but Stacy was not repentant. She was too angry and frustrated by his inventiveness. Suddenly, it flashed in her mind that she had no acceptable explanations for being found in a half-clad stranger's arms. Her face flushed as she reflected on her potential embarrassment had Drew not stepped in with his deception. After all, an engagement did not have to be permanent… did it?

  Drew ruefully glanced down at his robe and excused himself. "I'll change while you finish rustling up some food." He kissed her cheek chastely. Then using his body as a shield, he hissed in Stacy's ear, "Don't spoil it now!" Loud enough for the others to hear, he added, "Back in a minute, sweetheart." Then he turned and walked back to the bedroom.

  Paul muttered forlornly, "Congratulations, Stacy," before he stalked out, letting the door slam behind him.

  Now that they were alone, Bob enfolded his only daughter in his arms, hugging her securely. Then holding her at arm's length, he added his good wishes. "You've got yourself a fine man. I'm very happy for you, kitten."

  Appalled by the magnitude of their deceit, Stacy stammered, "Th-thanks, Dad. I… I'm sorry we kept it a secret." Guilt swept over her.

  "That's okay, kitten. I know it's been hard for you without a woman to confide in." His face clouded over momentarily as he thought of his wife, who had died five years earlier, just after her daughter completed high school.

  Stacy's eyes misted. "You're the best father ever!" she declared, returning his embrace.

  "Thanks, kitten. We'll talk more later. I need to get out of these clothes. Back in a minute."

  "Okay." She turned back to her preparations and absolutely refused to worry about her current predicament. She'd let Drew handle it; after all, he'd started it! All this over one little kiss. Well, maybe not so little, she admitted honestly to herself. Her pulse quickened at the memory of those moments in his arms. No more! She sternly remonstrated herself. Then her sense of humor surfaced as she contemplated two grown men trying to dress in an area about as big as the proverbial postage stamp.

  A chuckle bubbled up and escaped her lips.

  "I'm glad you can find something to laugh about."

  Stacy spun around to face Drew's narrowed gaze. With a mischievous smile she said, "Oh… I was just wondering how you and Dad were managing in that tiny bedroom."

  The corner of his mouth lifted. "Fortunately, I had about finished, or one of us might have gotten an eye poked out."

  She laughed again and then her expression sobered. "What did he say?"

  " 'Bout what?" he returned blandly.

  "The engagement!" Frustration dimmed the sparkle in her eyes.

  "He congratulated me."

  "That was nice of him," she said sarcastically.

  His eyebrow lifted. "Watch your step, my girl. We're not out of the woods yet," he warned.

  Stacy's temper flared. "I'm not 'your girl'!"

  "He thinks you are," Drew said, casting his eyes in the direction of the bedroom. "So keep a tight rein on that nasty tongue of yours."

  Stacy pivoted on her heel, picked up the sandwich plate, carried it to the table, and set it down with a decided thump. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Drew's taunting expression; she willed herself to move calmly, refusing to afford him further amusement. She skirted around him, walking briskly over to the ice chest for beer. She then paused, asking in dulcet tones, "Would you please get the mustard and pickles down from the pantry?" She pointed to the top shelf.

  He grasped a jar in each hand. Stacy could not read the strange expression on his face.

  "So that's why you were perched on a chair." He let loose with a deep laugh. "Amazing how such simple things can complicate our lives." He laughed again and this time Stacy joined him.

  When Bob returned he found them comfortably seated at the table indulging their healthy young appetites. His eyes lit up at the cans of beer, beads of moisture glistening on their sides. "Looks like you thought of everything, Stacy."

  "I try."

  For the next few minutes the only sound to be heard was that of teeth munching on ham, cheese, and lettuce sandwiches and the gurgle of beer sliding down parched throats.

  After the mound of sandwiches had all but disappeared, the men discussed plans for the well. Stacy's mind drifted until she was suddenly recalled by her father's inquiry: "Have you set a date for the wedding?"

  Stacy shifted uncomfortably, darting a look at Drew, who grinn
ed boldly. "We haven't discussed a date." Audaciously, he continued, "Stacy needs a little time to get used to the idea."

  Oooooh… the impertinent, cocky wretch! Stacy seethed. Her eyes detected a twinkle glimmering in the deep blue orbs. Just you wait, Drew Pitman! I'll get even somehow! The first round may be yours, but it's not over, not by a long shot!

  Chapter Two

  With few tasks to occupy her time, Stacy lingered as she unpacked her last suitcase. Then leaving the empty leather case by the bedroom door, she walked back to the narrow bed to smooth the peach-colored spread and stepped back to admire the room. Her bedspread matched the window drapes, which contrasted gently with the celery-green pile carpet. The high gloss of the polished walnut furniture reflected the morning sunlight. Whenever they were out of town for an extended time, Stacy arranged for a cleaning service to thoroughly air and clean the apartment so all she had to do was the laundry when they returned.

  Restlessly, she wandered over to the window and glanced unseeingly at the scene below. For the last week her thoughts had been chaotic, haunted by her last conversation with Drew. He had adroitly suggested that she take him to the air field, and she had agreed, knowing that they needed to discuss their predicament privately.

  With a sigh Stacy recalled the sparring match which had begun as soon as they were out of the trailer. Drew had insisted on driving and she had immediately demanded to know why. He had answered shortly, "I'd rather drive."

  Unsatisfied, Stacy started toward the driver's seat.

  "Get in on the other side!" the low voice commanded.

  "No!"

  "Do as I say; you're wasting time."

  "But I'll be driving on the way back."

  "So," he drawled the word.

  "I'll just have to switch over then."

  "That's fine with me."

  "Well, I want to drive." Her eyes glimmered with frustration.

  "Too bad. I don't intend to let you."

  Giving in ungraciously, Stacy climbed into the passenger's seat and plunked herself down. She studiously watched the landscape out her window as they drove away from the camp. The wind had dispersed the fire's black clouds and now the fields were bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. The cool breeze brushed her face refreshingly. She realized grudgingly that she would lose any verbal battle with such an arrogant, conceited…