A Hard-Hearted Man Page 16

  “I thought you were tired,” he said softly, gazing at her with a slightly amused, slightly wicked expression.

  “Oh, not so tired that I couldn’t be persuaded to stay up for a good reason,” she said mischievously.

  Ross grinned, and his strong arms tightened around her, letting her feel the stirring of his own body. “I think we could come up with one. We might even learn to do this without having an argument first.”

  Lilah felt her warm contentment waver. “Can we?” she said. “Arguments happen when two people want different things.”

  “But we don’t. I want the same thing you do.”

  She looked sharply at him. “You do?”

  “I thought you knew that already. I’m doing my damnedest to make it work, Lilah, and it’s all because of you. You made me realize how important it is.”

  “I did?”

  He nodded. “You’re committed, and you don’t give up. I respect that.”

  A flash of hope rocketed through her. “I’m committed because I care, Ross,” she said, gripping his hand tightly. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and I want to make it work.”

  He nodded. “I agree. It won’t be easy, but we can do it. If we’re lucky, we might even get it approved before your six weeks are up.”

  She frowned, suddenly wary. “What?”

  “I’ve been pushing my government contacts to speed up the paperwork. I know you’ll feel more secure once you have the permit in your hand.”

  Lilah gave a choked laugh. “Research permit,” she said. “Right.”

  “That is what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Of course,” she said. “That’s exactly it.”

  “He was talking about the research permit?” Denise said incredulously. It was the next morning, and Lilah was in the lab tent, watching her friend sketch a drawing of one of the stone tools. “That man is obviously in denial. What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘Ross, you thick-headed, hard-hearted man, I wasn’t talking about the research permit. I was talking about you. I’m in love with you and I want to know that in a few weeks you won’t just wave goodbye and thank me for the memories.’”

  Denise dropped her pencil. “You did? Oh, you did not. What did you really say?”

  Lilah gave a small, rueful grin. “I really said something like ‘Of course the research permit is what I want.’”

  “Wimp.”

  “I know. I was just so embarrassed. I can’t believe that even for one minute, I thought he was talking about our relationship. How stupid am I?”

  “Not stupid. Just a fool for love.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I think,” Denise said, adjusting the light over her work, “that you should tell him how you feel and see what happens.”

  “Right, and watch him disappear in a cloud of dust. He has a wall around his heart, and it’s pretty clear that I’ve been scraping up against it lately.”

  “Hmm. The tall, dark, aloof type. Will he let himself be made vulnerable by love? Or will he remain untouched, tragically guarding his wounded soul forever?”

  “You’re making this sound like a made-for-TV movie,” Lilah said crossly. “I have a serious problem here.”

  “You sure do,” Denise agreed. “But let me remind you. Time is running out. Go ahead, shake him up a little.”

  “Easy for you to say. I’m not sure how much shaking he can take.” Lilah paused, frowning. “How strange. That just reminded me of something Elliot said, right after he met Ross.”

  “What?”

  “He told me that in his opinion, Ross seemed unnaturally self-controlled. He said it made him nervous.”

  “So?”

  “Well, Elliot was right. Ross tries to keep up these walls, and this tight control over his emotions, but it isn’t natural for him, and it isn’t working. There’s this fierceness in him that keeps showing through. He seems like he’s right on the edge...of something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. But I think I’d like to find out.”

  Denise looked dryly at her. “Maybe that’s why Elliot is nervous.”

  Chapter 14

  The noon sun burned down over the savanna, washing the sea of green grass with dazzling light. It had been nearly two weeks since the last storm of the rainy season, and the land was beginning to dry and harden. Soon it would be summer, and the verdant grass would fade to a dusty gold, rustling softly against the red earth.

  But he would be gone by then, Ross reminded himself, shifting the Land Rover into a lower gear to navigate the pitted road. By the time the water holes dried up and the sky turned to brilliant summer azure, he would be back at work on the Zaire project.

  He sighed. Back on the firing line, back in the company of men. Fierce, dedicated men, who gave up the comforts of home and family for the heat and disease and political turmoil of the rain forest. Sacrifice on the altar of conservation. Was it really worth it?

  He was disturbed to find that he didn’t have a ready answer. The passion was still there, the belief in his work and the desire to make a difference, but there was a void at the core of it all, growing bigger all the time.

  He glanced over at Lilah, in the passenger seat, her hair whipping in the breeze that streamed through the open window.

  Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “So, where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he said. “We’ll be there soon.”

  “This beats my usual lunch break. Anything is better than an hour in the shade with a bunch of grouchy archaeologists who are as sick of peanut butter sandwiches as I am.”

  He grinned. “Tension at camp?”

  “The usual. Nothing life-threatening.” She shrugged, and settled back into her seat. “Ted and I have been disagreeing about everything, but that’s old news.”

  “Is that why he glared at me when I came to get you? I had the feeling it was personal.”

  She laughed. “Oh, probably. He doesn’t approve of you, you know. Calls you a conservation commando. It was meant as an insult, but it’s the most creative thing I’ve heard him say in months.”

  “Ted seems to have a lot to say about me.”

  “I think he’d like me to...reconsider my involvement with you,” Lilah said delicately. “He doesn’t find you suitable.”

  “And how do you find me, Lilah?”

  “Complicated,” she said immediately, and a wistful expression crossed her face before she smiled. “But suitable.”

  Ross raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure what answer he’d expected, but that hadn’t been it. He should have known better than to ask leading questions.

  “Ross,” Lilah began.

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t mean to imply that I don’t trust you, but do you really know where you’re going? For the past ten minutes you’ve been driving like you’re lost or looking for something. What’s happening?”

  “I know where I’m going,” he said. “I just don’t know where it is.”

  She frowned. “Okay...”

  “It moves,” he explained, squinting toward the thicket of bushes and trees around the west watering hole. He could see the sparkle of blue water through the thorny tangle, and then suddenly, something else. “Aha.”

  Lilah stared at him. “Aha, what?”

  “Hold on,” he said, swinging the car off the dirt road and onto the thick savanna grass. Springs squeaked as the car jolted and bumped over the open plain.

  “What are you doing?” she cried, grabbing the dashboard with both hands.

  “You’ll see in a minute. Right now, you’re on hole patrol.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Watch the ground right in front of the car for aardvark holes, then tell me, so I can avoid them.”

  “Aardvark holes? Okay,” she said doubtfully, trying to lean forward as she bounced in her seat. “There!”

  “Where?” Ross asked, just as a front tire hit the depression and bounced with a crash and a ne
ck-wrenching jolt.

  He braked slightly. “It would help if you told me to swerve left or right.”

  “Well, I—hey! Left!”

  Ross neatly avoided the next hazard, then slowed the car behind a small rise in the land. He shifted into first gear, and let the car creep slowly and quietly toward the top of the ridge.

  “Ow,” Lilah said, rubbing her neck. “How big is an aardvark anyway?”

  “Big enough.”

  Ross killed the engine, and the animal sounds of the savanna floated in through the open windows of the car. The grove of trees was just below them, with the pond-size watering hole shimmering silver-blue in the center. Birds were nesting in the trees, chirping excitedly, and making periodic swoops through the air and down to the water.

  “What are we—” Lilah began, and stopped as Ross touched her mouth with his fingers.

  “Shh,” he cautioned, trying to ignore the feel of her smooth, curved lips, and the stirring of desire that rose in him. There would be time for that later. Right now, he had something to show her. “On the far side,” he murmured. “In the bushes. Do you see them?”

  There was a flash of tawny color in the thick green tangle, and Ross heard Lilah’s breath catch as the first lioness rose in a languid feline stretch. The cat gave a great yawn, turned and settled down again, nearly camouflaged by the screen of low-hanging bushes around her.

  Lilah’s eyes were wide with sudden comprehension as she turned to him. “Oh, Ross...”

  “I just had a report from one of the herders that he’d spotted a male and three females in this area. I thought you might like to see them.”

  “How beautiful,” she whispered.

  The closest lioness raised her head and gazed around with only the mildest interest. The whole pride wasn’t visible from their vantage point, but Ross was willing to bet that all the cats were down there, lounging in the shade of the trees.

  “They came from the park,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve seen lions so far into the ranch.”

  She smiled. “We’ll make sure they get to stay.”

  Their eyes met for a moment, and Ross felt Lilah’s warmth and optimism cover him like a healing balm. He was acting like a proud five-year-old, for God’s sake, showing off the lions as if they were his very own, but the awe and pleasure on her face kept him from feeling foolish. And they were his lions, in a way. They were part of his dream, and having Lilah here to share it strengthened his flagging confidence.

  “You don’t mind that I brought you here?” he asked.

  “Mind? No, this is wonderful. I wonder about myself, coming to a place like Kenya and spending all my time with my nose in the dirt. Some people might think I’m strange.”

  “I thought you liked the dirt.”

  “No, dirt is dirt, wherever you are. It’s what pops out of it that I like. But lions...” She sighed. “They’re right up there with stone tools. Wow.”

  “High praise.”

  She nodded, and moved over to nestle against his shoulder as they looked down at the sleeping lion. Ross slid his arm around her, holding her slim body against him, and bent his head to bury his face in her hair. She smelled familiar, sweet and comforting, and strands of her silky hair tickled his nose.

  “Ross?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why don’t you ever ask me questions about my family or my background?”

  He straightened, surprised. “Do you want me to ask?”

  “Yes. It would tell me that you want to know me.”

  “I already know you.”

  “Do you?” Her voice was sad. “I wonder.”

  Ross frowned. Why the hell would he ask her personal questions? That was the last thing he wanted her to do, and he’d assumed that she would prefer the same courtesy.

  “I grew up in the Chicago suburbs,” she said suddenly, as if she’d just made a decision. “My parents still live there. My dad is a high-school teacher, and Mom is a librarian. I’m the first Ph.D. in my family.”

  She continued, and Ross didn’t try to stop her. As she spoke, he grew unwillingly fascinated with the portrait of Lilah taking shape. He saw the quiet, tree-lined streets of her first home, saw her family, saw the childhood he’d always wanted for himself. Not idyllic, not perfect, but loving and safe and real through all the ups and downs of a normal life.

  He felt a tightness in his throat as his mind moved back through his own past, before the resentful, troubled isolation of his adolescence, to the time before he’d left for boarding school, when he’d been living here at the ranch.

  The memories felt stiff and bright, fresher than they should be for such old images, and Ross was shocked to realize why.

  Over the past twenty years, through boarding school, and then through what he thought of as his exile, he’d kept those memories at a distance, unable to stand the pain of missing home.

  Missing Otieno, Mama Ruth, the rolling savanna, the endless sky...even his parents, in an odd way. He’d rejected his home after his father had rejected him, but there was more here, so much more, and it belonged to him in a way so primal that it could never truly be renounced or forgotten.

  Lilah had stopped speaking, and was watching him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

  “I’m fine,” he said, and looked away, staring out over the plains, struggling to get control of himself. The sudden intimacy surrounding them was both compelling and frightening, and Ross could feel himself tensing with the effort of resisting it.

  He cleared his throat. “Tell me more.”

  “Are you sure you want me to?”

  “Yes,” he said quickly, wanting a distraction from the disturbing emotions welling up inside him. He wanted words, any words, to fill the air and give him something to focus on.

  But Lilah managed to throw him off balance once again.

  “Do you want to hear about my engagement?” she asked.

  “Engagement?” Ross was feeling too ragged to control the shock of surprise and dismay that shot through him. “When? To who?”

  “To another professor. His name was Jeff Ryan. We started dating two years ago, and he eventually proposed. I said yes, and I actually would have married him.” She shook her head wryly.

  Ross took a deep breath. “What happened?”

  “He dumped me for a twenty-year-old in his senior seminar. He said that I cared too much about my work, and didn’t pay enough attention to him.

  “You know what?” she continued, when Ross didn’t speak. “He was right. I was a workaholic. But I think that was my way of hiding from the fact that the relationship was a mistake. It’s funny, but I only just figured that out. For the longest time, I thought I had loved him...”

  She shrugged. “But I didn’t. Not really. I finally know that for sure.”

  “How do you know?”

  Lilah met his eyes. “Trust me,” she said with quiet emphasis. “I know.”

  Chapter 15

  It took Lilah a minute to notice that something about the camp looked odd. The archaeologists were returning from an early dinner in Nairobi, and even in the fuzzy, remaining evening light, she could tell that something was wrong.

  The tent flaps, that was it. They were hanging open, unzipped from top to bottom, and Lilah was certain that she, at least, had zipped hers closed before they left a few hours ago.

  She parked the car and got out, hurrying forward before anyone else realized what was going on. The open door of her tent gaped darkly at her. Frowning, she stepped inside.

  “What...?”

  Lilah froze in the doorway, staring around the small space. The floor of her tent was ankle deep in clothes, papers and the rest of her personal belongings, as well as the contents of the box from the Bradfords’ summerhouse. Her mattress had been picked up and dumped off her cot, and her duffel bags and suitcase were open and upside down on the floor, empty. It looked as if a cyclone had hit the tent.

  She opened her mouth to say something—anything�
�and found that she couldn’t speak. Almost automatically, she did a visual check of her things to see what was missing, fully expecting to discover that she had been robbed.

  But, incredibly, the few valuables she had—her jewelry, a shortwave radio and a calculator—were all present. It was hard to tell in the mess, but nothing seemed to be missing.

  An outraged exclamation from next door told Lilah that her tent wasn’t the only one in this state.

  She looked outside to see Ted burst out of his own tent.

  He looked around wildly, and saw her standing there. “My tent...! What? How? Is your...?”

  “Yes, mine, too. Are you missing anything?”

  “How am I supposed to know? It’s a disaster! My papers are all over the floor. The draft of my article for American Antiquity is scattered everywhere! What the hell happened?”

  “I haven’t got a clue.”

  “Well, I do!” Ted shouted. “We’ve been robbed! Tell that to Ross Bradford! Elliot! We’ve been robbed!”

  He disappeared back into his tent and Lilah could hear the sounds of vigorous rummaging coming from inside.

  “My watch! My watch is gone!” Ted’s voice came, slightly muffled, through the canvas wall. “That watch was a gift! Ross Bradford is going to have to compensate me for this. He never told us that the ranch was unsafe. He should have warned us that this could happen. This is his fault!”

  Elliot came up to Lilah, his face grim. “This is unbelievable. What are you missing?”

  “Nothing, as far as I can tell,” she said, wincing as Ted continued his diatribe. “You?”

  “Maybe a little cash. I think I left some sitting on my table. Nothing worth the trouble of wrecking the place, though, that’s for sure. What’s Ted yelling about?”

  “His watch is gone. He’s upset.”

  There was sudden silence from inside Ted’s tent.

  “Ted?” called Elliot. “Was the watch valuable?”

  There was no response from inside the tent.

  “That’s a real shame,” Elliot said sympathetically. “I’m sorry about that. I have an extra watch I can lend you for now, at least.”