Green Fire (7 page)

"I was trying to work on the article."

"I see. It's not going well?"

"It's not going at all," Flint growled. "I was sitting there surrounded by a ton of notes and I couldn't write page one. I've been thinking about this article for a long time. I know the facts cold. But it isn't going nearly as smoothly as it should. Not like the others I've written. Tonight I couldn't even figure out how to write the first sentence."

Rani heard the frustration in his voice and impulsively reached out to touch his jacket sleeve. "Are you a night person?"

Flint eyed her warily, and she continued, "Is that when your thinking is clear? Is that when your biological time clock is at its peak?"

Flint shrugged. "Lady, I don't know what you're talking about. All I know is that I couldn't even make a start on that damn article tonight."

"And now you're tense." Rani tugged lightly at his sleeve. "Come inside, Flint. I'll make us some hot cocoa and then we can discuss your problem."

She wasn't surprised when he followed without protest. Any offer of food seemed to hold a definite allure for Flint. Silently he allowed her to lead him into the kitchen where he took off his jacket. Then, his gaze following Rani's every movement as she set about making hot cocoa, he sprawled on a chair with an unconscious, arrogant grace.

Leaving her trench coat on as a makeshift robe, Rani switched on the stove and measured milk into a pan. "Now, about this biological time clock, Flint."

"What about it?"

"I was under the impression you're an early riser."

"lam. So what?"

"Well, so am I."

"Something in common," he murmured a little too blandly.

Rani disregarded his tone of voice, "Exactly, Now, we early risers generally have something else in common. We usually do our best work, regardless of what it is, in the morning. What sort of work were you doing bright and early this morning?"

"You know damn well what I was doing. I was raking leaves, hauling rocks and pushing a wheelbarrow."

Rani turned to glance at him, her smile triumphant. "Precisely my point. You put most of your energy into hard physical labor today, using up your best hours on that kind of thing instead of on your article. Then you wonder why you can't seem to get it together at midnight to do your writing." She stirred briskly. "Want some advice?"

"I'm listening."

"Get up early and do your writing in the morning. Save the gardening and repair work for after lunch. You've got several weeks to get the grounds in shape and fix the odds and ends that need repairing. Use your evenings to relax and get some sleep." She poured the cocoa into mugs and brought them to the table.

"Is this valid scientific fact or pop psychology?"

"Trust me. It works." Rani sipped at the hot drink. "Tomorrow morning get out of bed bright and early, have your breakfast, pour yourself a cup of coffee and then go to work on your article. At lunchtime you can quit and start the outside work."

Flint looked at her over the rim of his mug. "You know, you're sweet when you're giving orders."

"Nobody said you had to follow them," she retorted.

"Ah, but I do. For now at any rate. You're wearing the ring, remember? Maybe I'm the man fated to be drawn under your spell."

"The ring." she announced grandly, "is phony, remember? Besides, you don't believe in legends. You're a professional debunker of tall tales."

"Who knows?" There was amusement in his face, even though the hard line of his mouth hadn't crooked into a smile. "The fact remains I seem to find myself doing what I'm told these days."

"Thank you. I'll treasure that compliment."

They sipped the cocoa in a surprisingly companionable silence for a while, and then Rani remembered the question she had been meaning to ask. "How did you come to know about Uncle Ambrose and this ring, Flint?"

Flint shifted slightly in his chair. Rani wasn't sure, but she thought some of the relaxation engendered by the cocoa had abruptly faded. It seemed to her there was a certain tension in him now as he studied his mug.

"Ambrose and I ran into each other a year and a half ago when the ring came into his possession."

"Uncle Ambrose bought the ring?" Rani raised an eyebrow in astonishment. "Or was it stolen by one of his confederates?"

Flint shook his head once, a short, brusque gesture that told her nothing. "What does it matter now? He and I never discussed exactly how he had acquired the thing, but there was no doubt it was a favorite object of his. At any rate, he'd come across an article I once did for a gem trade magazine. Just a short piece giving a history of the ring, not a major article like the one I'm doing now. He wanted to know more about it so he tracked me down through the publisher. As it happened, I'd just submitted another piece to that same publisher and he knew where he could get in touch with me. He gave me Ambrose's address in New York and I contacted him. I was just as interested in finding out who now owned the ring as he was in learning more about its history. Ambrose and I got along fine. He was a real character. I liked him, Rani."

Rani smiled. "Most people did, I gather. It was one of the reasons he was so successful. A natural con man probably. I only met Ambrose a few times. I never really got to know him. He never married. My father's side of the family was always very scattered and out of touch. I was quite surprised when I discovered he'd left all that wonderful fake jewelry to me. It's really beautiful stuff. Probably his finest work."

"What else was there besides the ring?"

"A great necklace that looks as if it came out of an Egyptian pyramid, a couple of pairs of earrings set with such beautifully cut paste that most people would mistake them for diamonds. A couple of other rings besides this one and a brooch."

"And you had them all appraised?"

Rani nodded. "My uncle had a business acquaintance in San Francisco. His name's Charles Dewhurst and he's a gemologist. Dewhurst had occasionally referred customers who wanted a high-quality reproduction to my uncle. He knew nothing about the shady side of Ambrose's business, of course. Few people did. He was as shocked as everyone else to learn about it after my uncle was killed. But, like you, he'd been fond of Uncle Ambrose and he greatly respected his talent. Mr. Dewhurst contacted my father after he learned of my uncle's death and offered his condolences. Said that whatever else Ambrose had been, he was one of the finest craftsman in the world. When I received the jewelry, I decided to have someone who was familiar with my uncle's work take a look at the stuff."

"And Dewhurst confirmed it was junk?"

"Very beautiful junk," Rani corrected with a smile. "But, nevertheless, fake. Apparently Uncle Ambrose had kept his finest pieces for himself."

"I wonder what he did with the real stone that was originally in that ring," Flint mused.

"Probably recut and sold it for a tidy fortune," Rani grinned. "Or perhaps it now belongs to a successful jewel thief."

Flint downed the last of his cocoa and sat cradling the mug between his large hands. "I think the setting might, at least, be original," he said slowly.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because the damn thing seems to be working on me." He lifted his gaze to her suddenly wary face. "Perhaps there's a little magic left in the ring, even though the stone itself has been replaced. What do you think, Rani?"

"I think," she said very carefully, "that's a strange thing for a man who doesn't believe in legends to say. I also think that it's time for both of us to get some sleep. It's almost one o'clock, Flint."

"I know." He got to his feet when she did, but he made no move to go to the door.

"Flint." She should exercise whatever small power she did possess to order him out of her kitchen. This business of feeding strays at midnight was very dangerous. The tension that was suddenly filling the room was rapidly replacing the cozy warmth. She felt it thrumming along her nerves, urging her to take a step or two forward. Steps that would bring her very close to Flint. He was a vibrant, masculine presence in her kitchen, filling the room with his particular brand of strength.

"I'm the one under the spell, Rani," he whispered huskily. "You're in control, remember? I can't take any more than you want to give."

She clutched the lapels of the trench coat. "What do you want from me, Flint?"

"A little warmth. A little gentleness. I've been restless a long time. I want some peace and comfort." He moved toward her, a soft, gliding step that closed the distance between them. "I need it. I've never needed anything this badly."

Rani felt his arms going around her, drawing her against him until her palms flattened on his shoulders. She couldn't seem to tear her own eyes from the banked, emerald fires in his. She should stay in control, she reminded herself. It was her nature to avoid risks. Now here she was suddenly on the verge of being drawn into a green vortex of excitement. She mustn't let that happen. She must stay on the edge of the storm and not let herself be whirled into its heart.

But a part of her was longing to sample a bit of the green fire. Her face lifted as Flint brought his mouth down on hers. The arms wrapped around her were heavy and strong and made her feel unexpectedly secure. Her palms moved up over his shoulders and around his neck.

The heat and the need in Flint beat at Rani in waves. She could feel it in every inch of his hard body. As his mouth moved hungrily against hers, she realized just how much self-control he was calling upon, and the knowledge that he was doing so reassured her somehow. When Flint's tongue probed at the edge of her lips, seeking entrance, she opened her mouth to him.

He groaned as the kiss became hot, damp and intimate. Rani felt Flint's hands kneading the small of her back, his fingers sliding down to find the shape of her buttocks. She shivered beneath the onslaught of powerful, sensual sensations that were startlingly new to her, even though she was far from being a naive teenager. He felt the tremor that rippled through her and pulled her deeper into the heat of his thighs.

When Rani murmured his name far back in her throat, Flint shifted her so that she was cradled in one of his arms. He didn't break the fierce kiss as he used his free hand to find the belt of the trench coat. Rani felt the edges of the coat part, and before she could decide how to deal with the new level of initimacy, Flint's hand was on her breast.

"Rani, I want you. I'm beginning to think I've always wanted you."

She heard the rough urgency in his words and couldn't tell if he were pleading or stating some irrefutable fact of life. Either way it wreaked havoc with her senses. Her fingertips curled in the fine hair at the base of his neck, scoring him very gently with her nails. She could feel the strength in his shoulders, and it tantalized her. When his thumb moved across one of her nipples, coaxing it forth beneath the fabric of her nightgown, she shuddered and pressed closer.

"That's right, honey. This is the way it has to be." Flint freed her lips, continuing to talk to her in low, dark tones as he brushed his mouth across her cheek and down the line of her throat. The words were timeless, heavy with passion, thick with masculine hunger. Rani felt them sink into her, adding fuel to the fires he was building with every touch.

When the front of the nightgown opened, Rani barely felt it. But when Flint's fingers traced the shape of her breast, she nestled her head against his shoulder. She could feel the hardening lines of his body as he pulled her closer.

"Rani, look at me. Let me see your eyes," Flint ordered softly.

She lifted her head, feeling dazed and unfocused. He studied her face for a long moment and then nodded as if satisfied. He fit his hands to her throat and held her still for another kiss. Then he brought her slowly, deliberately against him so that the peaking tips of her bare breasts were pushed against his wool sweater. The sensation was exquisitely teasing. Rani sucked in her breath.

"This is only the beginning, sweetheart. Only the beginning." Flint ran his palms down her arms. His expression was full of sensual promise.

"Flint?" From out of nowhere, Rani remembered her own words about the dangers of feeding stray cats. There was danger here, in her kitchen now. As if her thoughts had summoned up the interruption, a whining meow sounded outside the kitchen door. Rani stilled and then turned her head. It was a shock to realize she was standing half-naked in Flint's arms.

"It's all right, Rani." Flint touched her hair, twining his fingers through the spice-colored thickness of it. "I'm going to take you to bed and everything will be all right."

The demanding meow sounded again outside the door. Rani stepped backward, seeking escape. Somewhat to her surprise, Flint didn't try to stop her. Hastily she retied the belt of the trench coat, aware of the flush of heat in her face.

"Rani?"

"It's Zipp. He wants to come back inside."

"Yes." Flint's eyes never moved from her strained face. "He'll always want to come back inside. Just as I will."

She shook her head, trying to clear it. "I don't quite know what to say. This probably shouldn't have happened. I… I shouldn't have allowed it to happen."

"I don't think either of us had any choice."

That struck a chord. "I don't believe in fate and I doubt that you do, either. You're the one who writes articles illustrating the falseness of old legends, remember?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, for heaven's sake. You'd better get back to your own cottage. It's very late and you're going to need sleep if you're to try the new writing schedule tomorrow." She glared at him, brow drawn together in a ferocious line.

"I hear you, lady."

"I want you up bright and early."

"Yes, ma'am."

"If you say that one more time, I won't be responsible for my actions!"

"Yes, ma—I mean, good night, Rani. I'll let the cat in on my way out." He walked toward the door, his step soundless. When he opened the door, Zipp flicked his tail upward and walked haughtily into the room. His jaws were empty. Flint looked down at the cat. "No luck, Zipp? Well, don't feel bad. I didn't have much myself."