High Energy (7 page)

relationships with men. Hadn't Mills told her so? Not that she wanted a

relationship with him. He probably wouldn't be interested even if she did. And

what if she had truly pissed him off just now? How stupid can one person be?

After all, she was his guest.

His capable hands moved at her shoulders, massaging her tense muscles. The act

did not relax her.

"Did you notice the topiary labyrinth when you came in?" His low voice sent

shivers down her neck.

Still captured by his hands, she nodded her head warily.

"Good. I want you to know that the maze is extremely complex. To date, no one

has successfully navigated through it. Do you know why I built it?"

She shook her head, sending her curls bouncing.

"I built it as a foil to anyone foolish enough to seek an interview. Those

creatures eat little reporters like you for lunch."

Zanita gasped, her imagination running wild.

Tyber's answering chuckle was a strong, sexy laugh of male amusement. Was it her

imagination or did his lips just brush her hair?

She broke out of his hold, turning to face him.

"Really, Tyber, I just want—"

"No." He tapped her nose. "Now, would you like something to drink, Curls?"

Tyber was being difficult. But not impossible. She would have to bide her time

and try again in an hour or so. Smiling secretly, she accepted his offer of

refreshment.

Tyber handed her a frosty glass of lemonade from the outdoor bar, thinking she

had the look of his cat again. He knew the look well. She wasn't going to give

up.

He sighed.

How was he going to get her mind off that damn interview? As long as she thought

of him as a subject for her article, she wouldn't be seeing him as a person.

A person who was extremely attracted to her.

There was something about her that drew him like a magnetic force. From the

moment he spotted her sitting in that third-row seat in the lecture hall, he had

been captivated by her. He hadn't quite figured it out yet.

Despite his unorthodox persona, Tyber was not a man who leaped into idle

indulgences with women. Because of his secluded lifestyle and his penchant for

research, his experiences with women were usually based on a mutual interest in

scientific matters, or were the natural result of a deepening friendship.

His liaisons followed a pattern.

He always knew the woman on a professional basis first before engaging in a

friendly affair. These relationships had a tendency to last several months

before being mutually set aside. There was tenderness, decent sex, and a certain

camaraderie.

This one, however, was different.

For some reason, Zanita Masterson incited him.

She made him want her on a level he was unfamiliar with. There was an urgency in

the air when he was near her.

The sight and scent of her aroused deep, mysterious passions in him—passions he

ached to explore with the same thoroughness with which he explored his other

endeavors.

And it wasn't just the passion—though Lord knew, that was enough.

What captivated him as much as the physical pull was that he couldn't seem to

anticipate her. Zanita Masterson was a surprise in every way. He didn't

understand it, but he wasn't particularly concerned about it. He was confident

he would figure it out in time.

They sat in the sun slowly sipping their lemonades.

Zanita was careful to skirt the topic of the interview until she was ready to

pounce.

Tyber was careful to skirt the issue of his raging desire lest he pounce.

In their quest to avoid certain topics, they found to their surprise a wealth of

other subjects in which they shared similar viewpoints. They liked the same

movies. They loved trying out new restaurants. They itched to travel and

explore, knowing they had a nest at home, waiting. They were open to new ideas

and situations. They shared a love of art and antiques. And most important, they

had a similar sense of humor.

Zanita wondered how it was possible for her to have so much in common with a man

who was a genius.

Tyber calculated the odds of their being perfect together sexually as

exponentially high.

Their thoughts were interrupted by Blooey yelling at the top of his lungs. "Come

'ere, ye scalawag!"

Tyber and Zanita stared at each other silently.

A second later, the gate banged open and a streak of orange fur whizzed by, a

rack of lamb clamped firmly in its jaws.

Blooey followed hot on Hambone's tail, waving a kitchen cleaver. "He's got the

dinner, Captain!"

The cat jumped on top of the barbecue, zealously guarding his prize.

Zanita's hand covered her mouth, but it did little to hide the giggles she could

not suppress. Whoever heard of a cat making off with an entire rack of lamb?

Being chased by a little pirate sporting a cleaver? She broke into peals of

laughter.

Tyber turned to her, more than a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Never mind,

Blooey. We'll pull into Port KFC tonight. My old friend the Colonel has invited

us to dine."

Blooey beamed. "Ye think he'll be serving that fine chicken he does, sir?"

Tyber eyed the half-chewed rack of prime lamb wistfully, "There's a distinct

possibility, sailor."

The three of them piled into the front seat of Tyber's 1955 cherry-red pick-up

truck, affectionately known as "Big Red."

Zanita learned that he had restored the vehicle when he was still in high

school. First the house, now the truck. It seemed the man had a penchant for

bringing things back to life. Rather like Dr. Frankenstein, she mused.

When they stopped at a light, Tyber spoke low in her ear. "What are you laughing

at now? Don't you realize I arranged all of this just to impress you? I had to

promise Hambone a week's supply of filleted salmon. The cat's a tough

negotiator." Tyber pressed on the gas when the light changed.

"I wouldn't doubt that for a minute. Actually, the reason I was laughing was

because I was thinking that you're rather like Frankenstein."

"Frankenstein?" Tyber hit the brakes.

"Oh, don't be offended; I mean the doctor, not the monster."

He eyed her strangely. "Gee, thanks," he said drily. "For a minute there, I

thought I was being insulted. I can't tell you what a relief it is to know you

think of me as a deranged scientist with delusions of godhood instead of an

ordinary old monster."

Blooey let out a bark of laughter. "T'weren't nowhere to go but down on that

one, Captain!"

Tyber lifted one eyebrow. "Indeed."

"Have faith, Captain. Women are difficult creatures at best."

"So I've been told, Blooey." Tyber peered down at Zanita menacingly, then he

spoiled the effect by winking at her.

Zanita grinned back at him, thinking Blooey was right; he did resemble a pirate

captain.

Big Red swung into the lot and up to the order window.

Tyber turned to his passengers. "Okay, who wants what?"

Zanita licked her lips. "I'll have Extra Crispy."

"That spice is a fine blend, Captain."

Zanita agreed. "On the other hand I've been meaning to try the rotisserie

style."

"So you want me to get Rotisserie Gold?" Tyber asked.

"No, fried is the Colonel's specialty, Captain."

"Yes, that's right." Zanita agreed with Blooey. "Original Recipe. Wait—"

"Don't forget the biscuits."

"—white meat."

"Ach, the dark is best, lass."

Tyber dropped his forehead against the steering wheel.

"Potato wedges, too," Zanita added.

"Nay, the mashed potatoes!" The car behind them honked. "Don't forget Hambone

loves the gravy, Captain. Though he's not deservin' it, is he?"

"That does it!" Tyber rolled down his window. "Give me the largest bucket you

have and throw some of everything in it!"

Zanita and Blooey gave each other secret smiles on the drive back to the house.

It seemed the two of them knew exactly how to get to Tyber. And did it right

well together, too.

They ate outside on a wicker table by the pool, Hambone licking a little saucer

of gravy at their feet. After they had cleaned up, Blooey decided to return to

his "cabin" to finish a mystery he'd been reading. Zanita and Tyber elected to

stay outside to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather. They plunked down on

side-by-side lounge chairs, both of them kicking off their shoes.

Tyber absently watched the water rippling in the pool. "Do you want to go

swimming?"

"I didn't bring a swimsuit."

A slow, wicked smile creased his handsome face as he continued to stare at the

water.

"Forget what you're thinking, Dr. Evans."

His eyes flicked to her. "Would you go in if I told you I would give you an

interview?"

"Certainly not!"

"Don't be offended; I'm just checking your moral fiber, Ms. Masterson." His gaze

ran the length of her, from her sleeveless shirt to her shorts, lingering over

her bare legs and feet. "It seems to be a tight weave."

Shameless. Absolutely shameless. Zanita shook her head and sighed. A small chair

cushion sailed by Tyber's head. He grinned at her.

"You'll never make the majors, Ms. Masterson."

"Oh, I don't know." She flexed her fingers. "If I hang around you long enough,

I'm sure I'll get in plenty of practice."

He turned on his side to face her. "I'll have to see to it then, won't I?"

The intimacy of the situation did not escape her. They were lying side by side,

practically touching each other. It wouldn't be so bad if Zanita didn't know for

a fact that Tyber was purposely baiting her for a reason known only to him. That

he might be seriously interested in her did not occur to her for one minute.

She ignored him to turn on her side away from him. So far, he had not budged an

inch on the subject of the interview. It was time to face the fact that he was

not a man to be easily swayed. She had given it her best shot. He was not going

to relent.

Zanita lay on her back again, watching the sun sink in the western sky. She was

not going to get the interview; Tyber was teasing her; and she had eaten way too

much for dinner. She yawned sleepily as she stretched in the wide lounge chair.

"I really should be going soon, Tyber."

"You can't go yet, Zanita. Blooey's made a great dessert, and The Curse Of The

Mummy's Finger is on TV later." Tyber stopped because she had fallen fast

asleep. If it were anyone else but Zanita, he might have been insulted. This was

the second time the woman had fallen asleep on him! Shaking his head, he padded

into the house to get her a blanket. With the sun going down, it was getting

chilly.

Chapter Four

« ^ »

Zanita opened her eyes to a full moon in the night sky.

"Good evening."

Tyber was sitting on the edge of her lounge chair, one corner of his sensuous

mouth lifted in a faint smile. A light breeze caressed the free-flowing strands

of his long chestnut hair, moonlight silvering the golden highlights.

What a sight to wake up to.

The dreamy thought flitted through her sleep-clogged brain. She smiled back,

cuddling deeper into the lightweight blanket, still too hazy to wonder how she

had come to be covered.

She bunched the blanket up under her chin with her fists, while her luminous

eyes continued to drink in the sight of him leaning over her, barefoot and now

shirtless in the night wind. Against the darkness of his skin, his washed-out

denims looked white in the night light.

Realizing she must be staring, she hastily lowered her eyes, suddenly

embarrassed. What was she thinking of—staring at the man like that?

"I fell asleep." Her voice came out a thin sound.

"Yes." His clear eyes wandered over her features, lingering for a moment on the

baby-fine curls framing her face. Without thinking, he reached out, fingering a

downy lock.

As he did, his scent tickled her senses; a tantalizing mixture of after-shave

and something else that was uniquely Tyber— an elusive, heady, sizzling thing,

which made her briefly close her eyes to delicately inhale more. The man could

make a woman his captive with that scent.

She could feel the heat emanating from his bare skin as the cool night breeze

washed over them both. For a moment, a strand of his silk hair feathered her

cheek as the wind wafted through the evergreens surrounding the pool area. The

scent of pine trailed behind like night incense.

A fire now crackled in the fireplace; warm lights danced across the rippling

water.

His voice penetrated her hazy state, a low, mellow tone which was somehow both

soothing and stimulating.

"I've been thinking about you…."

The soft words echoed the gentle play of his fingers threading through her hair.

She warily opened her eyes. She had never thought of herself as particularly

thinkable.

"What's to think about?"

He tenderly smoothed the hair off her face, seemingly fascinated when the curls

bounced right back.

"I can't seem to anticipate you."

She furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

"I can't quite figure out how your mind works. You're unpredictable." He flashed

her an engaging look. "Not unlike Chaos."