Green Fire (8 page)

Before Rani could say anything suitably scathing, the door closed behind Flint.

The house felt empty the next morning. Rani opened her eyes and listened intently for the sound of clanging pots and pans. She heard nothing, which was exactly what she should be hearing, she reminded herself bracingly as she headed for the shower. She certainly didn't intend to spend the rest of her vacation fixing breakfast for Flint Cottrell. She ought to be glad he'd gotten the message.

The comfortable, stylishly baggy cotton trousers that nipped in at the waist and ankles were a neutral shade of off-white. They were one of the few neutrally shaded garments in Rani's closet. She offset the effect with a brilliant camp shirt patterned in orange-and-green jungle flowers. The look was supposed to be one of relaxed sophistication. Rani peered at herself in the mirror and couldn't decide if she'd pulled off the desired style or not. She'd achieved her usual loud impact, however. She clipped her hair into a loose coil on top of her head and headed down the hall to prepare herself a peaceful breakfast.

Zipp was already in the kitchen ahead of her, sunning himself on the windowsill. He flipped an inquiring ear in her direction as she opened the refrigerator door.

"Did you have a good time running around in the middle of the night?" Rani asked as she fixed a bowl of cereal for herself. The cat didn't bother to reply. "I noticed you didn't stay out very long last night. What happened? Decide a warm bed was a better option than a cold night of hunting? Better watch it, cat. You might be getting soft and civilized."

Zipp appeared neither soft nor civilized as he stretched out his battered frame in the sunlight, but he did look decidedly content. Rani thought about that for a moment, wondering how old the cat was. He had been full grown when she'd adopted him, so she had no certain knowledge of his age. He'd just appeared out of nowhere one rainy night at her home in Santa Rosa. But he still had the strength and agility of an animal in the prime of its life, so she didn't think he was old.

"A mature cat who knew a good thing when he saw it, huh, Zipp? Is that what you were when you landed on my doorstep and demanded a meal?"

Zipp began the deep rumbling that, for him, passed for a purr. Then he roiled off the windowsill, landed on all four feet on the counter and dived for the floor. He ambled across the room and stood waiting impatiently to have the kitchen door opened for him. With a sigh, Rani obediently got to her feet and performed the service.

She watched him stalk out into the chilly sunlight. A moment later it became obvious where he was heading: straight for Flint's cottage. Rani leaned in the doorway, sipping her coffee and watching as the animal lazily made his way through the garden. A few moments later he reached the front step of the cottage. Rani didn't hear the demanding meow, but it wasn't long before Flint opened the door.

He looked across the garden as he stood waiting for the cat to enter. When he saw Rani, Flint nodded a solemn good morning and then shut the door. Cat and man disappeared.

So Flint was up and apparently working. Rani considered that, aware of a pleased sense of satisfaction. She could only hope he was accomplishing something. Smiling a little to herself, she shut her own door and started in on the few chores required in her vacation home.

An hour later there was still no sign of Flint. He wasn't in the garden, and she hadn't heard the Jeep leave. She had to assume he was still working. Curiosity began to get the better of Rani's sense of discretion. She put down the British-style mystery she had been reading and wandered out into the rapidly warming day. It came as no great surprise to find herself standing outside Flint's door a short time later. Rani stood still, listening for the clack of a typewriter. She heard nothing, and when Flint opened the door without any warning, she jumped a good half foot.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he apologized idly, studying her with grave interest. "What are you doing out here? Listening at keyholes?"

"I just came to ransom my cat."

"You'll have to wake him up, first. He's sleeping on top of my desk." Flint stood back, silently inviting her into the small cottage.

A little warily Rani stepped over the threshold. "Your desk?"

"I turned the kitchen table into one." He closed the door and nodded toward the room's single table. A small portable electric typewriter stood in the center. It was surrounded by notebooks, paper and several weighty texts.

Rani cast a quick eye over the lot, ignoring Zipp who was, indeed, sound asleep between a dictionary and a thick, leather-bound tome, "Any luck? Writing, I mean?"

Flint smiled slightly, his eyes on her curious face. "Foolhardy as it probably is, I have to admit you were right. When I sat down this morning, things came much easier. My thinking was far more organized."

Rani grinned, pleased with herself. "Weil, there you are then. You're on your way to fame and fortune. I'd better not keep you from your work."

He shook his head, moving over to the stove to turn the heat on under a dented steel kettle. "I was just about to take a break. Want some coffee?"

Rani hesitated and then nodded. "AH right." She wandered over to the littered table. "Where will you submit the article when you're done with it?"

He shrugged. "Probably
Legends and Fantasy
. They bought the last couple of things I did. If they don't take it, I might try
Treasure Lore.''

Rani nodded. "We get both of them at the branch library where I work. They're quite popular. Kids like them. So do adults who daydream about going treasure hunting."

"My audience awaits," he said dryly. "All I have to do is get it written. I'm beginning to think the problem with this article is that I might be becoming, uh, emotionally involved with my work."

"Since you claim you don't believe in legends, you'd better be careful about becoming too involved," Rani tried to say lightly.

Flint gave her an enigmatic look. "The catch is that if there's any truth to the legend I don't have any choice."

Rani stared unseeingly down at the sheaf of papers on the table, her senses strangely ruffled into almost painful alertness by the underlying edge in his words. "Flint, I'm not looking for a one-night or even a one-month stand."

"You're a woman who doesn't take chances."

"And you're a man who's accustomed to taking them?" she whispered.

"For as long as I can remember," he agreed.

The shrill whistle of the old kettle demanded his attention. Flint reached for two mugs and spooned instant coffee into them. There was a tense silence in the small cottage as he prepared the brew. Then he picked up the mugs and handed one to Rani.

"Going to spend your whole life looking for a sure thing?" he asked, green eyes steady.

She resented the implied criticism. "Perhaps," Rani said coolly. "What about you? Going to spend your whole life leaping from one job, one adventure, to another?"

"People change, Rani."

"When?"

"When they find what they're looking for, I guess."

"I'd have to be awfully sure," she said cautiously.

"Before you'd take a real chance on a man?"

"Yes."

"When you're dealing with human beings, there aren't any certainties."

"That's probably especially true when dealing with a man whose track record doesn't exactly provide evidence of stability," she retorted, feeling trapped.

"What about that artist you're seeing here in Reed Lake? You think he's the stable type?"

"No," she admitted. "But with him it doesn't matter."

Flint smiled gently. "With me it does?"

Rani's mouth went dry as she realized the truth of her own words. "Yes," she said bluntly. "It does."

"I can't give you any guarantees."

"I know."

"I realize my track record isn't exactly reassuring."

"You're right."

"But I'm not a boy. I've been looking for something for a long time. Something it takes a man to recognize."

"You think you've found it?"

"I think so. But the lady is going to have to take a chance, too, before either of us can be certain."

Rani moved uneasily beneath the steady regard of his green gaze. "Don't you think this is an odd discussion to be having after only knowing each other such a short period of time?"

He looked at her intently. "What's time got to do with it?"

Rani's mouth tightened with feminine resentment. "You expect me to simply hop into bed with you, don't you? Do you have any conception of just how much you're asking?"

"Sure. I'm asking you to take a chance on a man who doesn't fit your image of male perfection. But no man ever will fit it, Rani, so why should I give up and humbly depart? I want what you've got to offer and I don't think you're ever going to find someone who will appreciate it more than I will." He paused, considering his own words and then added with brutal honesty. "Even if I did think you stood a chance of finding a man who would appreciate it more, I'm not inclined to leave the field open for him. Us stray alley cats have developed a habit of looking out for ourselves first."

"How can you possibly know what you want or what I'm prepared to offer? And why in the hell would I want an alley cat of a man in the first place?" Rani blazed. "You're absolutely right, you don't fit my image of the ideal mate. No fixed address, no fixed job and no fixed future." She was working herself into a fine, righteous temper, but Flint seemed oblivious.

"I don't care about the fixed address or the fixed job. I've relied on my wits long enough to know I can take care of myself. But I am in the market for a permanent woman. I'm ready for a home, Rani. A fixed future."

"But that's ridiculous!"

"Why? I told you, I'm a man, not a boy. I can recognize what I want when I find it."

"You hardly know me," she wailed indignantly.

"Before either of us can be sure, you're going to have to take a chance on me."

Rani caught her breath at the masculine command buried in the words. She was almost physically aware of his willpower reaching out to grapple with hers, and the sensa-tion was frightening. Frantically she summoned up her self-control.

"I think," she managed with a cool poise she was far from feeling, "that you'd better get back to work. I wouldn't want to get in the way of your excellent start."

"Want to hear a few of the tales surrounding that ring you're wearing?"

"No, I do not." Rani moved imperiously to the door, setting her mug down on the tiny drainboard.

"Some other time? Say, over dinner?"

Rani paused at the door, exceedingly grateful for her previous engagement. Ruthlessly she willed herself to ignore the hopefulness in his voice. "I'm going out to dinner tonight."

"That damn artist."

"Yes." The single word was almost a hiss.

"What time will you be back?"

Her eyes widened. "I haven't the faintest idea. I might not be back until morning!"

He grinned at that, a fleeting, amused, thoroughly wicked expression that contained far too much masculine arrogance and more than a hint of real danger, "You'll be back at a decent hour."

"Or what?" she challenged recklessly.

"Or I'll come looking for you."

"Get back to your typewriter, Flint." She slammed the door but not before she heard his laconic last words.

"Yes, ma'am."