Desert Heat by D'Ann Lindun Page B

streams,
Skeeter, or Mike’s effect on her. The way she wanted to stay in his arms, to
undress and explore him had to be due to emotions from her father’s death. A way to escape grief and anger. She couldn’t find another
explanation. She never reacted like this to a man, especially a man she barely
knew.
    He
shifted and her eyes flew open. “You’re awake.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Are
you warmer now?” Was it her imagination, or did his arms tighten?
      “Yeah. We’d better
turn off the heater. If we end up spending the night here it’ll get colder
later. We’ll need the heater more then than now.”
    She
slid off his lap and first turned off the CD, then the motor. Peering through
the soaked windshield she saw the water hadn’t receded. In fact, it seemed to
have risen a foot or more. “We’re not going this direction.”
      “No, and we won’t be able go the other way either
if it’s this bad here.” He glanced at the clock. 5:45. “Are you hungry?”
      “No.”
    He
focused on her. “You said something weird. You called Brent’s name at the other
Durango. Why?”
    Mallory
wasn’t sure how to answer. He hadn’t exactly believed her up until now. But
this time there was evidence. She met his troubled eyes. “I saw him in
Goldfield when we were there.”
      “What? Where?” He
didn’t look as if he believed her.  
      “I just caught a glimpse,” she admitted. “He
ducked between two buildings when we came out of the café.”
      “Are you sure?” he asked.
    “Yes.
I know what I saw. He spotted me and he jumped behind a corner. I looked right
at his face before he hid.” Just like she saw a horse in the desert, just like
someone had rifled her room. She knew she wasn’t losing it.
    Mike
looked at her for a minute. “Why would he do that? And why would he be in
Goldfield?”
      “I was hoping you could tell me,” she said.
“Because I thought he was going to work on the rafts.”
    “I
bet something came up he had to tell me,” Mike said. “Cell phones don’t work
out here. At least mine doesn’t. If he thought something was important enough,
he would’ve followed me.”
    Mallory
didn’t remind him that his friend had ducked when he saw her. If Mike wanted to
believe the best of his friend, then so be it. She wasn’t going to try and
convince him otherwise.
    Mike
seemed to sense her reservations. “I know him. I’ve known him since college.
There’s nothing Brent wouldn’t do for me.”
      Mallory held her tongue. But she had to wonder
if Brent would rifle her room, run her down on a horse, or follow her into the
desert. Had he found something on the map? That was crazy.
    Get ahold of yourself, Mal. You’re letting you
imagination run wild.
      “We’ll find out the truth when the water goes
down,” Mike said.
    Mallory
doubted it, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

Chapter
Nine

 
    Mallory
yawned and stretched. “Sorry.”
    By
10:00 it became more than apparent no one was coming to look for them.
    They
weren’t going to cross the ravine. Although the rain had finally let up, the
wash still ran like the Colorado River, fast and high. After they spread out
the sleeping bag across the folded-down back seats, they ate cold hamburgers
left over from lunch, briefly listened to the radio and played a few games of
cards on a deck Mike found in the glovebox .
    “No
reason to apologize.” Mike stuck the cards back in their box. “Are you ready to
try and get some sleep?”
      “I think so,” she said. “It’s been a long
day.”
    He
indicated the covers. “You take the sleeping bag and stay back here. I’ll take
the blankets and go up front.”
      “No.” She picked up the blankets. “I’ll go.
You’re too tall to fit up there.”
      “You’re not that much shorter than me.” Mike
took the edge of the blankets. “Let’s both stay here. We’ll separate the covers
and each stay on our own side.”
    She
wanted to scream no, that her entire body sang