Silver Miracles (5 page)

Larry had been right about something else, too. She had courage, and it appeared that she would need every ounce of it if she were going to pursue this relationship.

Perhaps she was a fool, but she was curious. There seemed to be an undefined substance to the man—a hint of a hidden sensitivity that she wanted to explore. Where it would lead to, she didn’t know.

But Trinity found that Chase Colfax was a powerful force pulling her to him, and she simply had to go.

Racing through the growing darkness the next evening, with the wind rushing over the rear-mounted wing of the Lamborghini, Trinity had to wonder again at the foolishness of accepting Chase’s invitation. He had been curiously withdrawn since he had picked her up this evening, hardly touching her as he carefully helped her into his car. And now, his firm grip on the gear shift incredibly attuned to every nuance of the car’s engine, he seemed totally preoccupied with driving.

Yet she knew she hadn’t imagined the forceful current of awareness that seemed to flow so effortlessly between them. Evidence to the contrary, it was with them right now, more potent than ever, causing Trinity to be terribly alert to the way the muscles in Chase’s legs flexed every time he shifted gears and accelerated, pushing in the clutch with his left foot and pressing against the throttle with his right. Even the slightest pressure on the throttle made the muscles in his legs bunch against the close-fitting slacks he was wearing.

To get her mind off Chase’s disturbing physical attributes and to see if she could bring him out of this almost-too-quiet mood, Trinity commented laughingly, "I feel as if I’m in a guided missile rather than a car."

The car was wide and low to the ground, eating up the road that meandered carelessly through the countryside. Chase had decided to take the long way around, since the road he was having built across his property wasn’t finished.

To her relief, the sound of her words brought his head around, his blue eyes amused, the ice in them slightly thawed. "From the tone of your voice, am I right to assume that you don’t like my Lamborghini?"

"Well . . ." Trinity looked around her. Even though the car gave the impression of width, with wide sills and a large expanse of dash, the individual black leather-covered seats were quite narrow. "It’s just that I feel so . . ." she groped for the right word, "so confined. And you can’t say you’re all that comfortable either, when your head is rubbing the roof and you have to go through a series of contortions"—Damn it! She was thinking about his legs again—"to even get in this . . . uh . . . car."

Chase turned to view Trinity once more, his mouth twisting sardonically. "You don’t like any sort of restrictions, do you?"

His words brought to mind the comments she had made yesterday about raising kids in the city; however, his glance touched on the pale green cloth of the wraparound dress that crisscrossed so prettily over her braless breasts. Without realizing what she was doing, Trinity drew a deeper breath, and her nipples hardened noticeably through the material.

Chase wrenched his gaze back to the road in front of him, gripping the steering wheel in such a way that his knuckles turned chalk-white. He continued, somewhat tight-lipped, "I guess I never thought about it too much. I didn’t really buy it for comfort."

"Why did you buy it?" Trinity inquired curiously, as they took another curve at a high rate of speed with well-balanced precision. Everything about Chase Colfax interested her.

"To get from Point A to Point B as fast as I can," he admitted laconically.

Trinity shook her head, causing the shiny brown strands of her hair to brush against the golden luster of her bare shoulder and bringing another sidelong glance from Chase. "What’s the reason behind all the speed? Where are you racing to? Or is it, what are you racing from?"

The ice that appeared back in Chase’s blue eyes should have frozen Trinity on the spot. Blithely ignoring the obvious warning signs, however, she reasoned, "You can’t even see where you’re going. All you can really see is a short distance in front of you . . . and that rear wing has got to interfere with your vision."

"I can see all I need to see to drive safely," Chase said with assurance, but he automatically slowed the car down and then looked over at her again. "You know, Trinity," he drawled humorously, "this car cost as much or more than your farm is even worth."

"I’m sure it did." She smiled engagingly at him. "But look what you have for your money—Just a bunch of nuts and bolts."

A great burst of laughter erupted from Chase. "Don’t let the Italians hear you blaspheme their Lamborghini as just a bunch of nuts and bolts," he advised, stopping before a wrought-iron fence and sounding the horn.

A large, beefy man appeared in the doorway of a gatehouse that sat just inside the fence and looked as if it were in the process of being renovated. Walking quickly to unlock the gate, the man swung it open and casually saluted them as they drove past.

Chase accelerated the car up the gravel drive, and Trinity drew in a sharp breath. Before her stood a massive two-story southern colonial house. Solidly built out of glass and stone on a lush green hill, it had a wide veranda sweeping around three sides.

Trinity had never been here before, for although she had known the Karneses, they were an older couple without children, and, consequently, there had been no reason to socialize.

After stopping the car. Chase got out and walked around to her side to open the car door, which hinged upward. He offered her his hand in courteous assistance, but immediately released her as soon as she was standing beside him.

A puzzled frown pleated Trinity’s forehead. Just as she thought she had broken through to him, he had closed back up. It was almost as if he were making a deliberate effort not to touch her. How strange!

Inside the great house, the polished-oak entryway was bare, inhabited with only a grand staircase, spiraling majestically up to the second floor. As they walked into the living room, Trinity observed an attractively proportioned room, large, but ascetically furnished with expensive pieces of furniture arranged uncaringly around an empty fireplace.

Trinity shuddered with a sudden sensation of leaden chill and cast about in her mind for something appropriate to say. "This is very—"

"Don’t bother with the platitudes," Chase cut in abruptly. "I know it’s terrible, but it serves my purpose. It’s only temporary, at any rate."

"But it’s such a beautiful house," Trinity protested, twirling around with her arms outstretched, the full skirt of her narrow-strapped dress swinging out around her legs, "and it could be made into a lovely home."

"I don’t need a home. I only need a place to sleep and change clothes while I’m here."

The pain that his cold statement caused Trinity was astonishing, and it effectively silenced her.

At that moment, another man appeared, identical in build and bland appearance to the one at the gate, only this one was slightly older and with a sparkle of humor in his brown eyes.

"This is Mangus," Chase informed Trinity, who gave a naturally captivating smile to the man. "He’s been with me a long time and is my general factotum. Mangus"—Chase did not take his eyes off Trinity—"this Is Miss Warrenton. You are to give her anything she asks for, at any time. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." Mangus received the startling order with far greater equanimity than Trinity. She turned to look at Chase’s closed face in surprise.

"That will be all for this evening." Chase ended the conversation with Mangus with an abrupt dismissal. "Just put the dinner on the buffet, and I’ll serve it. You can go."

Walking to a cabinet set in the far wall. Chase opened the carved doors that hid a mirrored bar. Without asking, he poured Trinity a dry sherry and brought it back to her,. careful not to touch her as he handed the small crystal glass to her.

Trinity was at a loss to understand Chase’s mood. Moving to a nearby window, she looked out on the rich green land that stretched away to the horizon and that was now darkly shadowed by nightfall. Criminally barren of any crops or livestock, it was land that was utterly wasted, in her opinion.

Sighing, she turned around and found Chase leaning back in the corner of the couch, watching her closely. A fine tension stretched disturbingly between them, connecting them in some indefinable way.

Searching for a subject with which to break the strained silence, Trinity said, "Larry tells me you are going to build a coal-gasification plant."

"You really didn’t know, did you?" Chase asked softly, his cool gaze gliding down her body, lingering on her feminine curves.

"N-no." Trinity licked her lips and walked over to sit down beside him. Maybe her closeness would lessen his rigid behavior.

"Should I even ask how you feel about it?" he questioned wryly, his glance locked on the moist peach glaze of her lips.

"I realize that northeast Texas is a virtual black gold-mine, sitting as it is on one of the richest lignite veins in the country." Trinity chewed on her lower lip in unconscious defense. "But, besides boosting the local economy, I have to wonder if the strip mining will be worth it. Where do you draw the line between using the land and using it up?"

Turning toward her, Chase shifted his arm along the back of the couch, to where he was almost but not quite touching her. One leg was pulled up, making her notice again how the gray material of his slacks stretched snugly over his thigh. She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

"Texas has been called the ‘window to the world for the energy industry,’ and it’s no secret that energy is one of the main problems in the world today. Although Texas is still home for much of the nation’s oil and gas, the challenge for the future will be to develop a replacement for the dwindling oil and gas supplies. I’m predicting that the low-grade coal available here will become the main source of fuel for utility companies in this state within the next ten years, besides providing thousands of jobs."

"You’re not saying that our oil is running out, are you?"

"No. I’m not. It will be decades before that starts to happen, and I doubt if it will ever be totally drained, but in the meantime, we must develop this state’s other sources of energy."

"Intellectually I understand all of that, Chase." Trinity shook her head and spread her hands out in an unconscious appeal. "But emotionally, I can’t stand the thought of the black ugly holes that will be made in this beautiful area by the giant machines that literally dwarf the men who’ve created them. And I feel sorry for the people who will be put out of their homes."

"Don’t waste your sympathy for the landowners," Chase observed cynically. "Their payoff is going to be huge. They’ll be able to retire on what they get for their land, and I won’t take from anyone who doesn’t want to sell."

Trinity watched quietly as Chase talked. She understood that they were seeing the strip mining on two different levels. That Chase was an intelligent, farseeing industrialist, Trinity had no doubt. But her reaction was from the heart, springing from an abiding love of the land, and there was no way Chase could ever understand.

Her attention was drawn to his face, where the skin was closely shaven. The silver growth of his hair just brushed the open collar of a black silk shirt that vanished under the waistband of form-hugging slacks. His hands, so strong and lean, were cutting through the air to make his point— so near to her, yet so far.

She refocused on what he was saying, fastening on the concern she heard in his voice. ". . . I’m going to make sure this is done right. The coal can be made to burn cleanly, free of sulfur, and the land will be totally restored. Parks, lakes and woodlands will be spread out, and the revegetation will be done so that minimum erosion will take place. With good management, time and nature, the area can be completely reclaimed."

Quirking his eyebrows, Chase suddenly stopped speaking and looked at her with a slight smile that drew her capricious attention to his full, sensual mouth. "That’s enough of that for now. Let’s go eat."

Trinity stood up, conscious of the fact that Chase hadn’t offered her his hand, and followed him into the dining room. It held a large bay window that would provide a magnificent view in the daytime. However, because the window was now heavily draped, the candles on the pecan dining table and matching buffet provided the only illumination. The table was leafless, at its smallest proportions, and the settings were placed at right angles to each other. It was an intimate scene.

Chase seated Trinity politely and served her plate with a little of everything from the steaming containers on the buffet. Repeating the process for his plate without comment, he sat down and indicated that they should begin eating.

The grenadine of chicken served with orange rice, hot fruit salad and green beans, mixed with a chicken-broth sauce and chopped pecans, was mouthwateringly delicious, but Trinity’s stomach was tied in knots by the heavy silence of the man sitting next to her.

On impulse, she asked, "If this isn’t your home, where is?"

"I have houses all over this country and quite a few in several foreign countries."

Unenthusiastically taking a few bites and pushing the rest of the food around on her plate, Trinity considered Chase. He gave absolutely nothing away about himself. Trying to get to know him was like trying to fit random pieces of several different jigsaw puzzles together.

"Do you have any family?" Trinity prompted, watching curiously as he withdrew visibly from her even more.

"I suppose you could say so. Biologically I have a mother, but she never had any time for me as a child, and, now that I’m an adult, I rarely ever see her—by my own choice. She lives in New York. My father’s dead."

"I’m so sorry! That’s terrible," Trinity exclaimed, remembering how desolate she had felt when her own father had died.

"Not really. He was an alcoholic, whose only redeeming virtue was that he had inherited a lot of money." Chase spoke quite impersonally, his voice devoid of emotion. "I owe my parents nothing, and that’s the way I like it. Everything I have, I’ve made on my own, by myself, with just a small amount of money that was willed to me from my maternal grandmother."