Safari Moon (4 page)

People began to stare and the phone inside
the shop rang. She should have left when she had the chance.

Robert stood next to her. The phone from
inside the shop clanged madly, her own cell still ringing. “Perhaps
you should speak to the man.”

“No!” It sounded too frantic, a little too
shrill, and neither of them knew if Solo was on the other end.
Faced with two phones blaring obnoxiously at her, her knees went
weak and she had to grip the handle bars of the bike to keep from
keeling over.

This was precisely what she wanted to
escape.

“Tell him I’m out for a ride, a long ride.
Tell him I’ve gone to Timbuktu or somewhere. Tell him I won’t be
back again all night. Tell him anything he’ll believe,” she said in
a rush.

As she stepped into her toe-clips then
pushed off, she heard Robert say, “Miss Harrington has gone on an
extended ride, one she won’t be finished with until the late
evening hours.”

Nyssa pedaled harder, scooting into the bike
lane near the curb. She knew she’d never be able to explain her
strange behavior to Robert, and for the moment she didn’t care.
She’d do whatever was necessary to stay far away from Solo St.
John.

***

“Damn.” Nyssa always returned his calls, and
she knew he couldn’t survive without her. He had to know what she
thought about the women and the ad.

She was the most dependable person he knew.
At least she was until she quit her job in New York and gave up a
way of life she’d wanted since the first day he met her. He’d never
been able to figure out that move, although he agreed with it
completely. Nyssa needed fun in her life. But now, today, when he
couldn’t live without her, she turned unreliable on him.

Meanwhile, Thelma had cleared the room of
the willing, eager, able females. At last count there were only two
left. He didn’t know how she got them out of his office, but
nothing short of murder would have bothered him. As long as he
didn’t have to encounter another crazy woman tonight he’d be
satisfied.

All that was left now was a long drive home
to top off a long day where he’d accomplished nothing. And Nyssa
must not have received his messages because she hadn’t returned his
calls and the man in the shop had told him she was on a long bike
ride. If he didn’t know better, he’d start to think she didn’t want
to talk to him.

Thelma buzzed with the thankful news that
the last of the women had given up and left.

“You’re sure they’re not hiding somewhere
ready to attack?”

“Positive. I spoke to the lady at the main
office in the lobby and they’re all accounted for. The last one
roared out of the parking lot five minutes ago. If you leave now,
you’re safe. You don’t plan on coming in tomorrow do you? Perhaps
you could do your business from your cabin--via telephone or the
internet. They are modern wonders, you know.”

“You’ve made your point. I’ll stay out of
the way tomorrow and as long I have to. If Nyssa calls, tell her
I’ll be home in about an hour.”

He didn’t think he’d hear from her but he
could hope. Relieved the women were gone, and without pondering his
good fortune any further, he sprinted to his car, ready to make it
home and up the trail to his cabin before dark. He patted his back
pocket where the key to his house was and smiled, glad he’d
remembered to lock up before he left for town.

His day must have improved because he’d no
sooner turned onto the main street out of town when he caught sight
of Nyssa. Stepping on the throttle and swerving to avoid the rush
hour traffic, he had enough time to hit the next stop light and
watch her neon pink and black jersey turn the corner toward the
park.

Thoroughly caught up in the pursuit, he
shouted, "What the hell!" when a chubby little index finger,
connected, he knew, to one willing, eager, able woman. The woman
began to trace his neckline around the collar of his T-shirt.

Hazarding a quick glance behind, he was
greeted with pearly white teeth ready to attack his neck. A horn
blared at him and he swerved barely missing an oncoming car. He’d
run a red light.

When her finger moved to his earlobe, he
gritted back the explicative that threatened to explode. All
thoughts of finding Nyssa vanished with the urgent need to rid
himself of the female in his car.

There was no place to park, no place to stop
where he could insist she get out. He didn’t know this one either.
At least he couldn’t remember ever meeting her before.

“If you want an interview,” he yanked her
hands from around his neck. “This isn’t the way to get one.”

By now she’d managed to flop over the seat,
and she purred suggestively, her hands resting on an embarrassing
spot on his upper thighs.

“What a shy devil. I don’t need an
interview. Your grandfather said if I showed up, you’d welcome me
with open arms. And here I am.”

He remembered that a few hours ago he’d
intended to call his grandfather and find out what nonsense had
inspired this. But when he saw the want ad the Colonel placed in
the Observer, he turned livid. He knew he couldn’t talk to the
Colonel in that frame of mind.

A parking spot turned up.
He pulled to a screeching halt as Nyssa flew past the car, a whir
of pink and black.
How did she get behind
him?
It wasn’t enough she wouldn’t call
him, but now she tormented him by being so close and yet so far
away. Meanwhile, his passenger tried to get very close and
personal.

“Get your hands off me!” he demanded
thoroughly exasperated and at the end of his usually inexhaustible
patience. "Get out!"

But she responded by sidling closer, her
tongue now stabbing inside his ear. Trying to avoid a nasty scene,
Solo was prepared to leave the car if he couldn’t get her out in
the next few seconds. The thought struck him that she’d probably
follow him and the scene wouldn’t be confined to his car. No,
they’d be out in the open with all of Bend watching. While
politeness was inbred, he was tempted to throw in the teachings of
a lifetime and tell this lady what he thought of her.

He turned to her. “Look, I’m not on the
market for a wife or a photographer either.” She started to speak
but he cast a sharp glare her way. “I won’t take anyone like you
into the Alaskan wilderness. You’d be swallowed whole by the first
grizzly bear that ventured close, and I’d have a guilty conscience
to tend with.”

“Swallowed?”

He felt a quick tremor of guilt but then
convinced himself the small fib was necessary. “Either that or
you’d fall through a frozen-over lake and drown.”

Her eyes widened and the bloodless face that
stared back at him convinced him he’d said enough. After a few
seconds to allow his words to sink in, he reached over her and
opened the car door.

She looked numb but the color was coming
back to her cheeks so he reassured himself she’d be fine. Another
needy fool would come along in a few days and she could sink her
fangs into him.

After a lengthy silence, she looked at him
before climbing from his car. “I hope you find someone.”

His heart lurched. Kindness was something he
always fell for, and he almost--almost called her back to apologize
and tell her he lied through his teeth. But he didn’t.

Solo St. John leaned back and closed his
eyes. The sound of the door shutting calmed him. He stayed that
way, eyes closed, hands on the steering wheel for a few minutes. He
tried to breathe deeply but for a while all that came out were
raspy thready sounds. Finally, he began to feel normal.

What now? Deciding Nyssa was long gone, he
turned his car into the traffic, going over every word he wanted to
say to his grandfather. But that was futile. His grandfather was
out of town, would be out of town for the next week. “The cagey old
coot.” The Colonel knew what would happen so he vacated the town.
Two nights ago, over dinner, Solo remembered telling Colonel St.
John about his plans.

There’d be no confrontation, at least not
for awhile. Solo eased out into the traffic, his mind working on
overload. On a conscious level he wasn’t aware of his direction,
but it didn’t surprise him when he pulled up in front of Nyssa’s
bike shop.

***

Nyssa was bent over a bike, putting several
adjustments to the brake mechanism. After the last adjustment, she
straightened, satisfied the brakes worked properly. She smiled at
the beautiful sunset outside, a picture she’d never been able to
appreciate when she lived in New York. There was never any time to
stop and enjoy a sunset or smell the perfume of autumn leaves
because she worked from sun up to sun down. If she wasn’t with a
client, she was studying the market. The tension had been
unbearable, and her unhappiness convinced her that her emotional
temperament was not cut out for Wall Street.

The little bell over the front door of the
shop alerted her to a customer. “Solo.” Her voice squeaked. She
stepped back so quickly the bike toppled over and sent items that
had been stacked beside it careening to the floor.

Couldn’t he take a hint? Didn’t he
understand she hadn't returned his phone calls on purpose? He
looked dangerous almost as if Thor had come down from the heavens
for her own personal inspection.

She gulped air, hoping each time what she
inhaled would have oxygen in it. She felt a little woozy yet very
glad to see him, an emotion she didn’t want to analyze or push to
the back of her mind. Once he stood in front of her, she could no
more send him away than she could stop her heart from beating.

But the stubborn
determination to see her life go down a well-ordered, normal path
swept through her.
Solo St. John. You’ve
got a lot of nerve. Don’t you know what you do to me? Of course you
don’t.
He was a ridiculous infatuation and
had no place in the scope of her life. Even if Solo felt something
beside the need for a buddy, they were too different.

Solo stepped farther into the room, his
presence insinuating itself in every possible space. Speaking at
Nyssa, he announced, “You didn’t return my calls. You weren’t on
your bike all that time. There isn’t a customer in the shop. You’re
avoiding me. Why?” He moved closer, his fists knotted tightly at
his sides. The urgency of his voice made her wince. “My whole world
has turned up-side-down. Nothing is as it’s supposed to be and now
you’re acting different. I counted on you, Vanytha Harrington.”

He was right. Something horrible must have
happened. He never ever called her Vanytha. Why now? “You can,
but--Solo.”

“What’s the matter with you?”

He was so close she could smell his after
shave, feel the energy race through him. All his anger was directed
her way. Still she wanted nothing more than to reach out and smooth
the hair back that had fallen sexily across his eyes.

Solo shuttered his features before he turned
his back to her. He picked up the stacks of bicycle parts she’d
toppled. When he finished, he returned his attention to her. He
looked much calmer but in Solo’s case looks could be deceptive.

“So why don’t you want to talk to me?”

Nyssa retreated behind the counter where the
cash register stood and tried to gather enough courage to answer.
She was so much smaller than Solo that even standing on her
tip-toes, it was impossible to straighten to a height comparable to
his. But when she stepped on the footstool beneath the counter, the
extra foot she gained made her feel things were a little closer to
equal.

“I’m preparing for a trip. I have to get in
shape,” she told him with a hint of don’t-you-dare question my
motives in her voice. “If I’m going to average seventy-five miles a
day for two weeks I have to stay focused.”

“What about manners? Or didn’t your mother
ever teach you that returning messages was the polite way to
proceed in a relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship!”

“We do!”

“No, we don’t.” She attempted a calming tone
she didn’t feel. “We can’t.”

“Nyssa! I need you.” Leaning on the counter,
bringing them to eye level, so close she could feel the warm puffs
of his breath on the tip of her nose, he looked deep into her eyes,
giving her an all-knowing gaze. “My life has fallen apart at the
seams. I didn’t get any sleep last night. Couldn’t get into my
office this morning without being attacked and now you won’t speak
to me. What the hell is going on?”

“You exaggerate.” She turned and strode out
from behind the counter, turning her back on him, pretending she
could ignore him. She couldn’t but it didn’t matter. Solo was not
the kind of man who would let anyone overlook him, not if he didn’t
want them too. “I’m not your slave,” she murmured softly, a comment
that was not meant to be overheard by Solo St. John.

“I never thought you were.” He sounded hurt.
“But this isn’t like you. You’ve always helped me out when I needed
you.”

“Not any longer. I have a life of my own and
I’m not at your beck-and-call.” At twenty-nine she had known Solo
an entire decade. And she’d had a hopeless, romantic crush on him
for just as long. He’d never seen her in any other light than as
his old buddy, Nyssa Harrington. Always available. Had she been so
stupid for such a long time? She was finally happy. She’d come to
accept the notion he’d never fall in love with her and she’d found
someone else.