“Am I going with you?”
“No, you'll join Dubliss day after tomorrow when you've finished tying up the loose ends here.”
“Loose ends?” Perry asked warily.
“I want you to stall the merger negotiations.”
“Cripes, why was I afraid that was what you meant?” he asked gloomily. “The AirFlow Board of Directors will tear me apart. I may not be able to make it to Zurich in one piece.”
“You'll make it,” Zack said. “Tell Dubliss to stay ready.”
“Right. The same general plan as before?”
“We may have to make a few adjustments. I'll let you know. Good night, Perry.”
“Fat chance,” Perry said sourly. “I have a few dozen things to do before I beard the AirFlow board. One of them is to build a fallout shelter.” The dial tone sounded as the connection was broken.
Zack replaced the receiver and dropped into the oversized desk chair. He should probably go to bed and try to rest, even if he couldn't sleep. He'd been on an exhaustive marathon lately with this merger pending. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He would go to bed soon. Now he wanted to sit and think about Kira, to savor the way she had looked, the responses she had made to him. Then he would think about the mondava.
THE EARLY-MORNING sunlight was strong, with the sort of clarity found only in the high country. The softening mist had burned off, leaving the Santa Catalinas stark and brutally beautiful against the cerulean sky.
Kira breathed deeply, letting the piñon-scented breeze intoxicate her with its tangy fragrance. That same breeze lifted her hair away from her face in a gentle caress and tugged like a playful child at her yellow robe. Her hands tightened on the redwood railing of the balcony. No wonder Zack had built his lodge on the side of this mountain. The simplicity and power of the man were echoed in these surroundings.
She crossed her arms over her chest as a little shiver ran through her. She had been determined not to let Zack Damon intimidate her, but, apparently, in order to block out uncertainty it was necessary not to think at all. Which was going to be a near impossible task when even the blasted mountains reminded her of him.
She had been unable to sleep for a long time after she'd gone to bed. Her mind had been a turmoil of jumbled thoughts, impressions, and apprehensions. Why was she so upset? It wasn't like her to brood about things she couldn't help. There was a price to be paid and she would pay it. Zack Damon was both attractive physically and fascinating mentally. And, she went on thinking, there had to be scores of women who would do virtually anything to wind up in bed with him. It wasn't as if Kira had any hang-ups about her virginity, for heaven's sake. Stefan was the conservative one, not she. There just hadn't been a man who appealed to her in that way before.
And there was certainly no doubt that Zack did appeal to her sensually, she thought, amused that she'd used such a tepid word as “appeal” to describe how he made her feel. Her reaction to him had been near inflammatory in the brief time they'd been together. It wouldn't be any hardship giving him what he'd asked, if she could only get rid of this uncharacteristic shyness.
“Do you like my mountains?” Zack asked from behind her.
She whirled to face him. He leaned against the jamb of the sliding glass doors, watching her. He was dressed in jeans and a cream-colored sweatshirt, but the casual garb did nothing to diminish his aura of controlled power. If anything, it augmented it. Now he blended into his surroundings, rather than standing deliberately apart, and she again had the feeling he was drawing power from everything around him.
“I didn't mean to startle you. I brought your breakfast tray. I knocked, but you evidently didn't hear me.”
“No.” She felt suddenly tongue-tied as she gazed up at him. “I thought Juana was going to bring my tray. Do you usually provide personal service to your houseguests?”
“I wanted to see you,” he said simply. “I couldn't sleep for thinking about you last night.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“You persist in questioning the obvious.” He smiled, his eyes bright with amusement. “If I tell you, do you promise to blush again?”
“How unkind. I know it's provincial, but I can't help blushing. I assure you I'm working on eliminating it.”
“Don't. I like your blushes. Every time I see the heat beneath your skin I want to reach out and touch you, feel the heat, the softness, the silk.”
She tried, but couldn't manage, to look away from him. That maddening color rose to her cheeks. “Your words are very pretty, but I'd prefer to appear sophisticated rather than naive.” Her lips were trembling as she smiled at him. “I'm not usually like this, you know. For some reason, you make me a bit nervous.”
His smile faded. “I don't want that. I want you to feel entirely comfortable with me.”
How could she when the mere sight of him caused her breath to catch in her throat and her legs to turn boneless? She glanced away. “I will. It will just take time. I've never met anyone like you before. I'm more accustomed to men who are social butterfly types than to men who are so serious about everything.”
He frowned. “You think I lack a sense of humor?”
“No, you're just more… intense.”
“Yes, I am intense. I don't believe you should do anything unless you're prepared to throw everything you have into it. But then, you should understand. You're an exceptionally intense person yourself.”
Her gaze flew back to him. “Who me? You have the wrong lady. I'm known as the original scatterbrained madcap. Ask anyone.”
“I don't need to ask anyone. I prefer to form my own judgments.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “And I think you're probably one of the most intense people I've ever met. I wonder why you're so determined to hide that intensity?”
“I'm not hiding anything.” She turned her back on him and stared at the mountains. “You asked me if I like your mountains. Do you own them?”
He walked to her side. “I own them. I don't have a deed to them, but they're still mine.”
“What?” she asked, puzzled.
“My grandfather used to say that if you love something enough, you become one with it. One entity flows into the other to merge and then to seal.” His gaze was fixed on the mountains with possessiveness as well as affection. “Yes, in spirit these mountains belong to me.”
“That's rather an abstract philosophy for a tough businessman to have adopted. I would think your instincts would lead you to pin down anything you wanted, to buy it outright and to have the deed in your pocket.”
“No one has just one face, particularly not me. There are times when I want to reach out and grab.” His gaze was still fastened on the mountain peaks. “And there are other times when I think that the only way to keep what's mine is to let it go.” He turned to face her, his gaze meeting her own with the same intensity with which he had regarded the mountains. “That's what many Indian tribes believed, you know. They would strive very hard to acquire rich trappings, slaves, and horses, only to give them away to show how little material wealth actually meant to them. It wasn't the acquisition but the release that was important.” His tone was halting, as if he were trying to express something beyond the surface meaning of the words. “Do you understand what I'm saying to you?”
She shook her head. “I don't think so. It's clear you wouldn't be in the position you're in now if you gave everything away, so you must subscribe to a more materialistic philosophy than your grandfather's.”
He was silent for a moment and then he smiled cynically. “You're right, of course. I'm probably far more philistine than shaman. I suppose I wanted to justify myself in your eyes. I don't know why. I've never been tempted to do that before.” He turned away abruptly. “Come along inside and have your breakfast. The plane will be ready in two hours.”