Desert Devil (4 page)

Juli, for a few awful moments, thought the trailer had been ransacked or vandalized, but on closer inspection she realized it had not. This was simply the way David had lived, and housekeeping obviously was not one of his priorities.

She picked her way across the gritty floor and opened the windows. The outside air, if not cool, was at least fresh. She went on through the trailer, opening bathroom and bedroom windows. David had evidently taken up rock collecting, because there were several cardboard boxes of rocks stacked in the bedroom.

She felt almost guilty as she surveyed the unmade bed, as if she were peering into an area of David's life where she had no right to be. He wouldn't have liked the intrusion.

But it couldn't be helped, she sighed to herself. The bedroom had an exterior door and she opened that, too, trying to get some circulation going in the stuffy air. In back of the trailer she saw a dilapidated shed, a pole with some sort of electrical box fastened to it, and a makeshift clothesline.

It all had such a forlorn look, and Juli was suddenly angry again. Did Thorne Taylor pay so poorly that this was the best David could afford? And now he was trying to cheat David even further. It wasn't fair!

She hurried out to the car and lugged her suitcases inside, again surprised by the heat at this time of year. She was perspiring lightly by the time she changed into denim shorts and halter top with bare midriff. She had felt a little foolish packing such clothes with snow on the ground back in Ohio, but she was certainly glad she had them now.

After changing her clothes, she found clean linens in the bathroom and made up the bed. She was relieved to find the electricity had not been shut off. There was no telephone, but there was water in the faucets, and the refrigerator, though desperately in need of cleaning and defrosting, was also working. With a few days' work she should be able to get the trailer into condition presentable enough that it could be offered for sale, she decided. She poked around in closets and finally found a vacuum cleaner stuffed behind a pile of shoes.

In spite of the vacuum cleaner's location and the general appearance of the trailer, both of which hinted that the machine was seldom used, the paper dust bag was full and she couldn't find another. She felt damp and dirty by the time she gave up looking. She tried the air cooler but quickly flipped the switch off when the cooler made a few definitely unhealthy sounding groans and shudders. Finally, she went outside, brushed sand off the trailer steps, and sat down. She felt wilted and dispirited.

From here she could see the trailer windows were filthy and would have to be washed. The screen door needed repairing. David's talents had been in the scientific field, not carpentry, and the steps were definitely wobbly, too.

The enormity of the task ahead of her suddenly seemed almost overwhelming. Even more overwhelming was the question of what to do about Thorne Taylor's total rejection of her claim that Aunt Kate had something coining to her. Should she see a lawyer? She had recklessly warned him that Aunt Kate was ready to sue the company, but the more she thought about it, the more she suspected any reputable lawyer would reject the claim as too flimsy. Thorne Taylor seemed to have everything on his side: David's signed agreement with the company, Juli's own lack of information about what David had invented, Thorne Taylor's obvious wealth and power, plus the force of his personality and physique. Juli suddenly felt shaky just at the thought of going up against him in a legal battle.

Or any kind of battle, she thought uneasily, massaging her sore shoulder lightly. The faint bluish shadows of bruise marks from the powerful grip of his fingers were already beginning to show on her fair skin. But deeper than the bruises was the memory of those gray-green eyes burning warningly into hers. She shivered suddenly in spite of the heat.

He had deliberately kept her waiting, she decided, thinking back. It put him in control of the situation;
he
was the one who kept people waiting, and he certainly hadn't apologized when he did arrive. What was his noon meeting that had run overtime? Juli suddenly suspected that it might well have been a private, not business, matter. In spite of the hostility and cold contempt he had shown toward her, Thorne Taylor was far too attractive to devote all his time and attention to the electronics business. What sort of woman would attract the interest of a man like Thorne Taylor?

With an unexpected warmth, she suddenly remembered the way his eyes had boldly appraised and classified her as attractive. But she also remembered how he had carelessly dismissed that observation. Merely being attractive wasn't enough to warrant Thorne Taylor's interest, of course. He could have his pick of any number of attractive girls, and no doubt amused himself with more than a few of them, she thought disdainfully. No, it would take more than merely being attractive to warrant any
real
interest on Thorne Taylor's part.

She jerked her mind away from that distracting line of thought and back to the problem at hand. If it weren't that Aunt Kate desperately needed financial assistance, she would be tempted just to forget the whole matter. Even if he were totally in the wrong, Thorne Taylor was almost too clever, too powerful to fight.

And yet, considering that David had signed that paper, wasn't it true that Taylor Electronics was both legally and morally entitled to anything David invented or discovered while working for the company? The thought that
she
might actually be in the wrong had not occurred to her before, and it was a disquieting idea.

She rejected it quickly. David had sounded too positive that Taylor couldn't cheat him "this time." Which must mean, of course, that Thorne Taylor had somehow cheated him previously.

She realized her thoughts were right back where they had started. Sighing, she went back inside and started cleaning out the smelly refrigerator, wincing once when the door accidentally struck her sore shoulder. She realized she should have picked up supplies at the grocery store, but she didn't feel like driving back for them now. The smell of the moldy, spoiled food in the refrigerator, plus the unpleasant aftertaste of her meeting with Thorne Taylor, hadn't left her with much appetite, anyway.

The boxy metal trailer seemed to retain heat even after the air began to cool a little outside. She contemplated tackling the stack of dirty dishes but decided to wait until the trailer cooled off. Glancing outside, she suddenly realized a few clouds had drifted in and there was going to be a spectacular sunset.

Her Polaroid camera was still in the car. She got it and snapped a shot of the trailer with the sun behind it. The result wasn't what she wanted, and she looked around for some better vantage point to get the full effect of the colors.

The view from the boulder-strewn ridge would be perfect, she decided. If she hurried, she could make it there in time to get several good shots as the sunset colors changed.

She hurried out to the road, but within only a short distance it ended in a dusty turn-around. She struck off toward the boulders on what she hoped was a trail. She hadn't gone far before she realized she was poorly dressed for a desert walk. Her bare legs seemed almost to invite attack from the golden-thorned cactus, and she had to watch every step she took in the flimsy sandals to avoid stepping on the older, dead clumps of cactus needles littering the ground. She stopped to rest beside a low, bushy tree and found that it, too, was sticky.

Not exactly a hospitable place, she thought wryly, rubbing a stinging scratch on her bare leg. A man named
Thorne
ought to feel right at home. And yet, in spite of the inhospitality of rock and cactus, the desert had a certain harsh, alien beauty, as if it had been painted with a different but no less appreciative brush than the green farmland back home. Here the colors were neutral ochres and umbers, burnt siennas, weathered yellows, and dusky browns. The golden-thorned cactus, lovely but vicious as a lurking predator, dominated the landscape, but there were also thick stubs of barrel cactus and waving whips of yet another thorny plant. Over all towered the magnificent saguaros, arms bent or twisted as if signaling some indecipherable but timeless message. She had read some saguaros were upward of a hundred fifty to two hundred years old, and it gave her a feeling of awe to think they had been standing right here when Indians and whites battled over the land.

She knew she probably should turn back. The ridge of boulders was farther away than it had looked from the trailer, the desert distances being deceiving. But she had come this far and she was determined to go on. By now the sunset promised to be even more glorious than she had expected, a burning glow of red and gold like some ancient sacrificial fire smoldering on the horizon.

She struggled on, clambering over boulders that at some time in the past had thundered down from the ridge. Above her the yellowish rocks turned to a glowing gold in the rays of the sinking sun. She wouldn't have much more time before the colors faded.

Finally she reached a huge, rough-surfaced boulder balanced almost precariously on top of the ridge. Again, the desert had deceived her and the ridge was higher than it had appeared from a distance. The trailer below looked small and lonely. Without waiting to catch her breath, she hastily untangled the camera strap from around her neck and aimed directly at the sinking sun. Without waiting for the colors to develop on the Polaroid print, she snapped two more shots.

By that time the first print was beginning to develop. She held it between thumb and forefinger, disappointed. The sunset colors were appearing, but she had angled the camera, giving the landscape a peculiar tilted look. The second print was blurred, as if she had moved at the moment the shutter snapped. The third shot was the best, but she was still disappointed with it. Somehow, it had simply failed to capture the glorious beauty her eyes could see.

As she held the prints, waiting for them to develop fully, she suddenly had the odd, uncomfortable feeling she was being watched. She glanced around uneasily, realizing how alone and vulnerable she was in this isolated spot.

She saw the camera first. It was set up on a tripod, fully equipped and obviously expensive. It was partially concealed by a clump of desert shrubbery, but if she hadn't been so engrossed in snapping her own pictures, she would surely have seen it earlier. But who… ?

And then she saw him.

He was leaning against another boulder, naked to the waist, arms crossed against powerful chest. Sculptured shoulder muscles tapered down to hard, flat waist. Lean hips, molded thighs… In the golden glow of the setting sun, he was a bronze statue, a pagan desert god of virility. He moved and the muscles rippled under the sheen of bronzed skin. Juli swallowed convulsively and lifted her eyes to the lean face. There was something almost satanic about the faint, sardonic smile, the bronze glint of the hair. The sinking sun played shadows like firelight across his skin, shadowing his eyes as he moved toward her. A desert devil come to life against a flaming sky…

"I expected we would meet again, but I didn't realize it would be so soon."

Juli gasped and blinked as reality collided with that mesmerizing image of gleaming bronze sculpture. "Mr.—Mr. Taylor! I didn't recognize you—"

He raised a dark eyebrow. "Without my clothes on?"

She felt her face flame. "No! I didn't mean that—" He was quite decently covered, of course. She could see now that the dark material that molded his muscular thighs was not some satanic garment, but merely an old pair of jeans.

"Sorry," he said without sounding particularly apologetic. "I was swimming. When I realized the sunset was going to be worth photographing, I just threw on a pair of pants and grabbed my camera." The faint smile was sardonic again. "I'd have dressed, of course, if I'd realized I was going to have such attractive company."

"I… I just wanted to take some photographs, too—something to take home to David's mother," Juli said shakily. He was standing beside her now and she found his nearness disturbing. There was a primitive masculinity about his bared chest, a virility to which she had to fight back an unfamiliar, almost shocking response.

"May I see your photographs?" He held out his hand and .reluctantly she handed the Polaroid prints to him, careful to avoid touching his lean, capable fingers.

"They aren't very good," she said apologetically.

He inspected the photographs and handed them back without comment. She knew he didn't think they were good, either, and his superior attitude annoyed her.

"I'm sure I could do much better, of course, if I could afford the fancy, expensive equipment you have," she snapped.

He waved a tanned hand toward the tripod. "Help yourself."

He had neatly trapped her, of course. She bit her lower lip. She hadn't the faintest idea how to operate a camera that required more than the most simple of adjustments.

He picked up her camera from where she had set it on a flat rock, inspected it briefly, and then eyed the western sky. Only the rim of the sinking sun remained, a dying red glow. He peered through the viewfinder, looked around, moved a few feet away, and kneeled down. A minute later he stepped back and handed the stiff, slick Polaroid print to her.

She held it, silently watching the colors develop. His hand had been rock-steady, no trace of a blur. By kneeling, he had silhouetted a saguaro against the dying glow of the sun and somehow captured both the sunset beauty and the harsh, alien landscape of the desert.

"It's very nice," she murmured. Defensively, she added, "Perhaps I should have waited until the light was different."

"A moment ago you seemed to think your equipment was at fault." His voice was taunting and he had trapped her again, she realized angrily. She reached over and snatched her camera back. "It isn't the price of the camera that is the most important factor in taking effective photographs, Miss Townsend," he said pointedly. "It is the skill and judgment of the person behind the camera."

So he was a better photographer than she was, Juli acknowledged. Did that give him the right to go around acting so superior? And what did he mean he was out here "swimming"? There couldn't be enough water out in this dry desert for a minnow to swim in. And yet his crisp hair was definitely still damp. She was almost going to ask, but decided against it. She swung the camera strap around her neck and turned around, looking for the way she had climbed the ridge.