Spring Fires Read online

  Drew let her finish without interruption. Then, as they were stopped at a traffic light, he turned and his blue eyes pierced her. "It's an engagement ring."

  "I realize that, but this is not a real engagement," she said incautiously, losing her patience with his attitude.

  "It is until I decide differently."

  "You decide!" Her voice rose higher.

  He coolly glanced at the traffic lights and shifted gears, picking up speed. She slumped back in her seat, frustrated by his stand and unable to argue while he was driving.

  The seconds ticked away. Drew's deep voice broke the silence, but he kept his eyes on the traffic. "Let's shelve this discussion. For now, we're in this situation for better or worse… forgive the pun. We can decide what to do with the ring later." He continued patiently: "I can't return it, and I can't imagine giving it to another woman, but maybe we'll come up with a reasonable solution later."

  Stacy sighed. It was not the answer she wanted, but she decided that any further discussion would be fruitless.

  Not many minutes later, the car turned into a shopping center built like a small village constructed in sandstone; it gave the area an Old-World charm, not unlike a European village. The restaurant, built like a mill with a water wheel, was set off at one corner, and opposite it was a tall clock tower; the intervening space was occupied by more shops and a landscaped parking area.

  As they entered the restaurant they were greeted by the maitre d' and ushered to a linen-draped table for two.

  Silver and crystal glistened with the reflected light from the wall sconces. The entire room had a subdued elegant atmosphere; oyster-white walls were trimmed with molding painted the color of green Wedgwood china, and the thick, plush carpeting was of a darker green hue. A mural of paintings of famous landmarks in Paris covered one wall.

  Now thirsty, Stacy asked for a piña colada while Drew ordered a Scotch on the rocks. The menu offered a wide selection, but ultimately they chose veal cutlets to be served with a sauce of chopped ham, mushrooms, and delicate seasonings; and with it they ordered a Sauterne wine.

  Stacy sipped her ice cooled drink, letting the icy concoction slide down her parched throat. Suddenly, she sensed Drew's eyes on her and lifted her own to read the expression in their blue depths.

  She smiled, lifting the corners of her mouth, and, unaware of the sparkle in her eyes, involuntarily was pleased to be out in his stimulating company. She felt his gaze caress her brow and cheeks, and as it rested on her parted lips she was overwhelmed by bewildering sensations. Deliberately, she dropped her lashes to hide her confusion, disconcerted by his instant effect on her senses.

  She started to say something, anything to break the spell, when the waiter returned with their appetizer of hot onion soup.

  "You'll enjoy this, Stacy. I always find it excellent."

  She took a spoonful. Abruptly, the image of Jennifer Hyatt popped into her mind and Stacy wondered if Drew had ever brought her here. She unsuccessfully tried to phrase a question, but anything she could say Drew might interpret as being too possessive or petty. Sooner or later she would discover more about the haughty woman. Stacy had already deduced that Jennifer was the "lady friend" Drew was trying to discourage.

  Aloud, she said, "It is delicious. I wish I had more time to cook like this, but with Dad and me working, we rely heavily on convenience foods."

  "Maybe you'll have more time after you are married," suggested Drew tauntingly.

  "Only if I quit my job," she said logically.

  "Then marry someone who can support you without your needing to work," he parried.

  "Like you," she said, being deliberately provocative. She refused to allow him to get the upper hand.

  "Or someone like me," he countered smoothly.

  She thought seriously for a moment. "I don't know that I'd like to give up my career."

  "Isn't marriage a career?"

  "It is for some women. I'll just have to wait and see," she concluded lightly as the waiter returned to remove their dishes.

  With the assistance of another man, a specially designed serving cart was rolled over by the waiter. Then, as Stacy watched, fascinated by the swift movements, sliced tomatoes and green beans were lightly tossed as they were cooked in a skillet. When ready, they were turned out onto china plates kept warm by a heating element. Then the sauce was mixed and poured over the veal. In a very short time they were set before Drew and Stacy.

  Once the waiters left, Stacy ate with gusto the delicately spiced food, a treat for her palate. As the hunger pangs, created by the delicious aromas enticing her nostrils, were assuaged, she searched her mind for a topic of conversation. Finally, falling back on the time-old solution, she asked, "Tell me something about your work. Does it take you very far?"

  With a mocking smile, he said, "Do you really want to know, or is this just a ruse to keep me from questioning you?"

  Stacy flushed slightly at his perception but asserted staunchly, "I'd like to know. Don't forget—through my father I've been interested in another aspect of the oil business for years."

  "Touché!" His eyes searched her face and then, as if satisfied with what he found, he continued; "Since there are many oil fields in the Southwest, I usually work here, but sometimes I'm called into a foreign country. Good old American know-how is respected internationally." He paused to take a bite of food. "We've been drilling since oil was first discovered in Pennsylvania in 1859, and dealing with its hazards. Now that modern technology has facilitated drilling in obscure places, there is an even greater demand for trained people to handle the problems. Mexico and Great Britain, for example, are just beginning to develop their oil reserves. The offshore drilling platforms the English need to use in the North Sea have unique problems."

  "It's amazing, isn't it, how engineers and scientists have come up with methods to suit almost any environmental situation? My father has had to work in some places where the oil is thick and difficult to pump. But once someone discovered it could be thinned by heating it with steam, it is now accessible."

  They continued with their meal, their conversation revolving around the oil business. As time passed Stacy found herself answering questions about her personal life.

  "You're very close to your father." It was more a statement than a question.

  Stacy knew that in this day and age the "older generation" usually was not very popular with their young, but she had a very special relationship with her father and enjoyed working with him. She said honestly, "Yes, since Mother died, I've tried to keep him from getting too lonely." There was a catch in her voice as she added, "They were very close. It was a crushing blow when she died." She blinked back the tears blurring her vision.

  Drew's voice came through warm and sympathetic. "They were very fortunate. Few people are so blessed."

  "Yes," she whispered, wondering if she would ever be so lucky. She was dumbfounded to realize that she had carried the thought a step further and was actually thinking about how it would be to be loved by a man like Drew. Instantly, she chided herself. Drew had no permanent place in her life, and she would be a fool if she let herself be bowled over by his dynamic personality.

  She was brought back to the present as Drew shifted the conversation to more neutral channels.

  While they were sipping their after-dinner coffee, Drew said, "We don't want doubts about the sincerity of our engagement, so while I'm in town I'll be taking you out." He raised a hand to halt her interruption. "I travel a lot so you needn't see much of me. Besides, when we do go out there's no reason we can't have a good time." Baffled by her irrational disappointment at his cold-blooded words, she let him continue uninterrupted.

  "Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

  "Yes," she murmured.

  "Good. Wear something casual."

  Her curiosity was piqued and she asked, "Where are we going?"

  "Wait. Let it be a surprise," he said with a tantalizing note in his voice.

  He's d
one it again, she thought, furious with herself for her obvious show of interest. Well, I can be just as cool as he is! Aloud, she said, "Good. That should please my father."

  Drew raised an eyebrow but said nothing more.

  He signaled for the check. It was summarily dealt with and they left.

  It was not long before they were back at Stacy's apartment. Instead of following Stacy up the steps to her front door, he pulled her gently by the hand through the arched walkway which led to the apartment's inner courtyard.

  Inside, the night was still. Their footsteps on the brick walk and the light tinkling of a fountain were the only sounds to break the silence. Stacy could smell earthy scents created by the dew-moistened vines and shrubs.

  She found her voice. "Why are we here?"

  Drew stopped and took her by the shoulders to turn her to face him. "This evening is too lovely to end so soon."

  She hesitated, her eyes trying to read his expression in the moonlight. With an attempt at remaining aloof, she answered, "It has to end sometime."

  "But it's not over yet," he murmured, slowly lowering his head to graze her cheek with his tantalizing lips. She could not remain unaffected as he brought her soft body against his hard unyielding frame; his lips fired her body as they trailed down her face to her mouth, which parted under his insistent pressure. Her hands had moved of their own volition up under his jacket to massage the taut muscles of his back.

  All too soon the night air was between them. Drew stooped to pick up Stacy's purse, which had fallen unnoticed to the pavement. Handing it to her, he took her arm and escorted her out of the courtyard and up the steps to her door. Stacy fumbled with the purse until she located her keys buried in the bottom. In an instant Drew had plucked them from her fingers and unlocked the door.

  Once she had stepped inside, he closed the door behind her with a quick good night. Stacy could hear his jaunty tread down the stairs and wondered how she could steel herself against his overwhelming appeal in the days ahead.

  Chapter Four

  It was past mid-morning when Stacy arose. After shrugging on a robe, she went in search of her father. She found him in the dining room, sitting at one end of the oval cherry table, sipping coffee as he perused the morning paper, the evidence of his completed meal lying to one side.

  "You were sleeping so soundly, kitten, that I went ahead and fixed myself some breakfast," Bob said as he saw his daughter come in.

  "I'm surprised I slept so late. I usually don't."

  "Well, now, after the excitement last night, it's understandable. Did you have a good time?" he inquired with a benevolent smile.

  Skirting the issue of the announcement, Stacy answered, "Yes, after the party Drew took me to dine at a fabulous French restaurant. The food was out of this world."

  "Glad you enjoyed yourself. Drew's a fine man; he'll make a good husband."

  "Yes." Stacy hoped he did not take note of her blunt response. Their relationship was so close that she hated the idea of his disappointment when the engagement ended. Again, she wished that her life would get back to normal quickly and then she could stop feeling guilty about this web of deceit. Trying to keep her voice natural, she told him, "Oh, by the way, Drew is planning to take me out this afternoon."

  "That's fine. I'll be busy with some work that piled up while we were away." With that, he folded the paper and dropped it on the table as he pushed back his chair. He walked over to his daughter and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Have fun this afternoon."

  "Thanks, Dad." She had not missed his sluggish movements and added, "Please don't keep at it too long today. Remember, it's Saturday; you should take it easy."

  "Yes, kitten, later. But this morning I intend to clear up my backlog."

  Stacy wisely said no more as he left the room, knowing that at this point it would only irritate him. From past experience she knew he would not relax until his work was done.

  Carrying his dirty dishes to the sink, she rinsed them off, and, with a glance at the wall clock, she realized there was not enough time for a second meal before Drew arrived, so she decided to fix herself a substantial breakfast. The room was papered in a bright pattern and the harvest-gold appliances added to the cheeriness. She enjoyed working in this kitchen, fitted with all the modern conveniences and adequate counter space. She fried eggs and bacon, and, adding toast, juice, and coffee, ate at the place she set at the breakfast counter. When she was finished, she restored the kitchen to order and then returned to her room to dress.

  After a refreshing shower, she briskly dried herself with a soft terry towel; then she applied a light film of makeup and brushed out her glossy hair. Adhering to Drew's recommendation, she chose denim pants and jacket and with it a red T-shirt. The clothes hugged her trim figure, the pants accentuating her long legs.

  Once dressed, Stacy wandered through the apartment putting things away and generally straightening up. In the living room she plumped up the pillows on the green and yellow quilted print sofa and deep green plush chairs. On the end table she found Drew's used glass and took it to the kitchen to put it in the dishwasher. Even while occupied with her chores, she could not blot out the memory of the preceding evening and the man who had kissed her so passionately. She could not work out a reasonable explanation for her uninhibited response. She deplored his type of man, who used women as playthings to be enjoyed for the moment and then casually tossed aside when another came along. She was just another in a long line; she had displaced Jennifer, and in a few weeks someone else would take her place. And yet—his touch stirred in her deeper feelings than any of the other men she had ever dated. Finally, she concluded that the only way to protect herself was to accept the current circumstances and not allow her emotions to get the better of her.

  Filled with good intentions, Stacy calmly answered the doorbell when it chimed at the appointed hour. All of her clear-headed resolutions died when she looked up into his smoky-blue eyes with their potent magic.

  "Hello, Stacy. All set?"

  "Just about. Where are we going? I should let Dad know." She was relieved to discover she could speak so normally when all the time her composure was being strained by her unintentional response to his sexual appeal. He was dressed in Levi's which molded to his muscular thighs; tied loosely over his shoulders was a pullover sweater. The sleeves hung down his chest, but did not completely conceal the brown chest, with its mat of curly hairs exposed by his open-necked navy sport shirt. Her nose recognized the elusive scent of his after-shave.

  "He knows where we'll be."

  "He does? How?"

  His mouth curled up in a smile. "I called earlier while you were still lazing around in bed."

  Her hard-sought self-possession deserted her as his comment evoked a mental image. They had returned so late the night before that she had not bothered to find her nightgown and had slipped into bed naked.

  As if divining her thoughts, Drew smiled knowingly.

  To conceal her embarrassment, Stacy suggested that they leave.

  "Don't you want to say good-bye to your father?"

  "Since he knows where I'll be, I won't disturb him."

  When they reached Drew's car, which was parked at the foot of the steps, Stacy reached out for the door handle, but before she could open it, Drew's hand closed over hers.

  "Allow me." Stung by his touch, she jumped back. The corner of his mouth lifted and she deliberately ignored his extended hand and climbed into the car.

  As he headed out of the parking lot toward the main street, Stacy, determined to behave sensibly, said, "It's a beautiful day."

  "Yes, it is," he responded briefly.

  She searched her brain for a safe topic, and then, spotting the bumper-to-bumper line of cars, she said, "The traffic is pretty heavy."

  "Usually is on Saturday afternoon." He slanted her a mocking smile.

  Ooooh … he is so darned self-confident. He's doing it deliberately, like a cat playing with a mouse. And I'm the mouse! She
sank back without saying another word, refusing to afford him further amusement.

  Their progress was slow, but once they reached the through way the pace picked up. Because Drew had to contend with the congested lanes of traffic and Stacy obstinately gave no more than a one- or two-word response to any of his comments, their conversation lagged.

  Gradually, her annoyance faded in the joys of the spring day, and yielding to her innate common sense, she resolved to enjoy the afternoon.

  After driving several miles, Drew turned off the highway and drove down a twisting street which eventually crossed a bridge spanning the Houston ship channel.

  Through her window Stacy saw ships lining the docks. Behind a high metal fence the space was filled with railroad tracks, freight cars, trucks, and warehouses, a hive of activity.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Drew perceived her interest. "Amazing, isn't it?"

  "I've never seen so many ships!"

  "You've never been here before?" His voice held an astonished note.

  She answered honestly, though slightly chagrined, "No. I guess it's typical that people living in a place all their lives take it for granted and don't explore the sites right at their own back door."

  He nodded his agreement. "During the week there is a boat ride for tourists that takes you through the channel. But I like watching from the public observation platform."

  "Is that where we're headed?"

  "Uh-huh. It's clear today so we'll have a terrific view." He stopped for a moment at a gate, explaining to the guard on duty where they were going. The older man waved them on and Drew drove down a gravel road, turned left, and parked between two station wagons.

  As soon as Stacy alighted from the car she felt the strong breeze blowing in from the coast and carrying with it the salty scent of the sea along with the less pleasant smells of waste products created by man and machine.

  Taking Stacy's hand in his own, Drew steered her across the wooden walkway leading to the observation platform which was built high above one end of the channel. Then they climbed up the first flight of steps single file so people descending could pass them. Sea gulls swooped above them sounding their raucous caws.