The Perfect Fit Page 5

  She grinned when Nick hesitated, then swerved to the left, and she collected the sunflower. Silver smiled as she bruised the petals of the sunflower, releasing its perfume; Nick could be managed. He realized the importance of her work, and gathering the scents into her. A company man to his bones, Nick would do what would serve Palladm’s best interest. “Perfect. Your brothers, Joel and Rafe, look like you. At the moment, they seem much sweeter.”

  After a pause in which Nick didn’t answer, Silver placed one hand on his belt, and braced upward before she lifted to wave the bouquet to the Tallchiefs. “Let’s try for a little dignity, shall we, Mr. Macho? After all, I am the professional perfume who is going to make big bucks for Palladin, Inc. I’ll tell Mamie you manhandled me. You could get fired.”

  Nick savagely jerked open the pickup door and thrust her inside. “Get that seat belt on.”

  “Touchy. Yes, sir,” Silver muttered as she gave one last wave to the Tallchiefs.

  Nick geared the pickup and soared down the dirt road, passing a herd of grazing deer. Silver settled back to enjoy dusk creeping across the fields, the cows and calves grazing in the lush fields. “Oh look, there’s a fawn...see how tiny and leggy—”

  Nick’s hard green gaze slashed at her as she pushed a sunflower stalk over his ear. A glowering male, wrapped in frustrated anger, was too tantalizing to resist. He ripped the sunflower away and discarded it through the open window. “Do you do just what you want, when you want?”

  She shrugged. “Usually. It pays off not to let someone else determine what I should do, and I can’t resist a challenge. You shouldn’t get uptight. From what Mamie has said of you, you should understand independence. Your essence is unsteady now, volatile and bristling, and I’ve got enough to cope with. A nose has to be careful. How will I work with all that dark aura storming around me? A happy worker is a good worker,” she singsonged.

  Nick expertly slid through the gears, a cord tightening in his jaw. “Careful? You haven’t been careful since you were eighteen. Then you started racing cars, skydiving and taking whitewater kayak trips. That was just for starters. From the frequency of the men calling at the shop, begging you to stay in touch, I’d say you had a few training partners along the way.”

  “They’re just like my brothers—except John isn’t athletic. And darn, those dance contests do call for a male to be involved—most of them at least. I’m an active girl, the challenges were there, and you’ve done your research. Where are we going?”

  When Nick didn’t answer, Silver settled back into the seat with her thoughts. She was frightened she would fail. At least while she was free-falling and meeting her relatives, and teasing Nick, who responded beautifully, she wasn’t being squeezed by fear.

  Jasmine...I’ll do this and we can both rest.

  The small ranch cottage was exactly what she had wanted. A new building addition shot off to the side, viewing Tallchief Mountain and Lake. While Nick carried the crates into the house and laboratory, Silver stood watching the night enclose the mountain and blanket the lake.

  The India pearls had been Elizabeth Montclair Tallchief’s, only part of a small jewelry chest she had brought with her to America, when Liam had claimed her.

  In the last part of the 1880s, Liam and Elizabeth had first met high on Tallchief Mountain. Liam, son of Tallchief, a half-blood Sioux, had been staked to the ground by renegades. Elizabeth, an English lady, had been touring the West. Faced with her sister’s death and dishonor—and her own—Elizabeth had placed herself upon Liam, and given him her virginity. Later, he had claimed her and their son in England. Kidnapped and married now to Liam, Elizabeth had moved to Tallchief land and had happily found her destiny.

  Elizabeth had written in her letters to an English friend: “I would not have my own dear Liam shamed by my wealth, though he would not say it is so. The pearls are from my dowry, given to me by my grandmother, and dear to my heart because of her and because I wore them when Liam and I first met, so shockingly. But nothing is so dear as Liam, my husband, my heart.” Elizabeth had confided in her letters, “Because I have my love, and it is true, I give these pearls to another and pray that the legend will come to be as it has for me, to the woman who wears the pearls and finds her love.”

  Elizabeth’s letters had been purchased from an antique dealer. Bound with a red ribbon, they were stashed safely in the same tiny chest as a collection of blown-glass perfume bottles. Dreaming of their princes, Jasmine and Silver had pored over the letters, filling themselves with dreams of true love.

  A creative woman, Elizabeth had established a new legend to serve the Montclair-Tallchief pearls: “He’ll be a fine beast of a man, haughty and proud and strong as a bear, gnawing at the maiden’s shields, testing her, claiming her with wicked eyes and the pearls nestled in his hand. If he places them upon her, warmed by his flesh, and gives her a sweet kiss, the pearls will be her undoing. Then their hearts will join forever.”

  As girls, Jasmine and Silver had made a solemn, whispered midnight pact, each holding a candle, that they would seek and find Elizabeth’s pearls. For years, they dreamed of the moment they’d hold the pearls, and the princes would claim them. They’d been invincible in their dreams, until Jasmine lay ill, fading away. Then, holding that frail, limp hand, Silver had cried and promised to carry on the search alone.

  But now, Jasmine was gone. Silver shivered with loneliness, her bones cold with it. She wrapped her arms tightly around her and wished she had her ancestors’ shaman and seer powers. The pearls’ legend had been so strong, binding Jasmine and herself, and Silver had to complete the dream, to finish that portion of her life, of girlish whims and princes who awakened with kisses and love forever more.

  Nick had come to stand behind her, the night wind bringing his scent to her, enfolding her. He’d come to set the rules to tame her, and she couldn’t let him spoil the moment when her heart had settled into a tenuous peace, when she was finally so close to settling her shadows.

  Without looking, she sensed that he was brooding, ready to start defining his rules. She lifted her head, inhaling the pine and earth scents of the country, blended with the animals’. “Say what you must tomorrow...not tonight. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “You’re crying.” The words were harsh, uneven.

  “I never cry. Leave me alone.” Silver closed her eyes, and suddenly realized how tired she was, how many hours she had planned for the start of the hunt...and now the time had come.

  Fear returned to chill her, and when she turned, Nick was gone.

  Silver awoke to the morning sun slanting across her face and the tantalizing scent of fresh coffee. She stretched and blessed the god of automatic timers on coffeepots.

  Last night, she’d left Nick to deal with locking the house as he left; she’d found the bathroom, flung a towel over the mirror and took a luxurious shower with her requested unscented soap. She had poured herself into the sunshine-scented sheets on the antique bed she had purchased with the money from her first big sale.

  The quilt laid across Silver’s carved, walnut 1880’s four-poster bed was handmade and old—the note that had been resting on it from Elspeth, gifting Silver with a pioneer woman’s handwork. The Tallchief tartan at the end of the bed was Elspeth’s work, a gift bringing Silver into the family.

  She stretched, enjoying the fresh cotton sheet against her naked body, yawned and stretched again. The house, what she had seen of it last night, was spacious, plainly furnished, and her crates would be waiting to be unpacked in the lab.

  Silver threw back the sheets, leaped out of bed and wrapped the Tallchief plaid around her. The soft merino wool had been woven, no doubt, on the same loom Una had used, and had given to Elizabeth. The tartan settled around Silver like a homecoming caress.

  If the laboratory requirements were handled as well as the rest of the house, Mamie had reason to be proud of Nick, Palladin’s troubleshooter. In her bare feet, Silver padded across the varied topaz shades of the hardwood flo
or toward the scent of the coffee.

  Following her instructions, her weights and workout bench were placed in front of an open window, overlooking a vast wildflower meadow. Her climbing and scuba gear and mountain bike rested in a corner and Silver couldn’t wait to use them.

  All in good time. She had to make her visit appear as if she were honoring the contract, though she’d already blended the fragrance to leave her more time for hunting the pearls. She had a full day ahead of her, setting up the lab, making contact with Mamie and visiting the Tallchiefs. Sybil Tallchief was a top genealogist and an heirloom hunter; Elspeth had senses that Silver could use; and liaisons with both women could prove to be profitable. Jacques had taught her how to hunt, to seek the essences she needed and to call forth her instincts. He’d said those seer and shaman instincts were in her, and she would need them now to free herself...and Jasmine.

  Silver glanced in the mirror, the shadows capturing her image. Slanting cheekbones, an oval face, bruised gray eyes—a skeletal image lying in a cold white hospital bed swept over Silver’s. Jasmine...

  “I specifically said, no mirrors,” she muttered and whipped off the plaid to walk to the mirror. She reached to lift and stand it on the floor, silvered surface against the wall. She pulled the plaid up around her nude body, not ready to let her anger take away the pleasure of the gift. On her way to the delicious scent of coffee, Silver smoothed the soft merino wool caressing her body. “Mr. Ladykiller will hear about this. I gave him direct orders that my living quarters would not have mirrors.”

  The man in her kitchen wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was wearing well-worn jeans and no shoes. Nick looked over his tanned and muscled shoulder. His slow, thorough gaze skimmed down the tartan covering her to her bare thighs, down her legs to her feet and then slowly rose to study the rounded line of her breasts above the cloth.

  “You!” Silver gripped the counter while he poured her coffee. His slow, interested, downward gaze locked on her cleavage, and instinctively protecting herself, Silver jerked the cloth up to her chin.

  That look was enough to make her want to—She fought for air, and hated the shiver that coursed down her body. Nick was very experienced at looking at women, while she—

  While she had to find the Montclair pearls. She battled her unsteady emotions as she adjusted the huge blue-and-green tartan closer to her body, tucking one corner in as though it were a sarong. If Nick Palladin thought he could make her run from a room—She glared at Nick, who lifted a so-what eyebrow. Giving herself room to form exactly what she would say, she stalked to the refrigerator, retrieved ice cubes and plopped them into her coffee. She wanted to be fully awake before she started laying out the rules to Nick. He shoveled bacon and eggs onto two plates, poured coffee into a pottery mug that matched hers and sat down at the sturdy pioneer table as if he served her breakfast every morning. The familiarity rankled. Silver had kept her life apart from possible intrusion for years.

  Silver sipped her coffee with one hand, gripped the tartan firmly with the other and eyed the intruding male. “You don’t need to play watchdog now, Nick. I’m here, and I know how to lock a door. I know how to set up my laboratory, and a call to Elspeth will help me find Tallchief House. There’s another pickup outside, the four-wheel drive, which I wanted, so logically I have means to travel when I want. Or I can ride my bike. I’ll get to work as soon as I can—Just exactly, why are you here? In my house?”

  “Breakfast,” he explained and dived into his food, ignoring her. He fought inhaling her freshly bathed fragrance, the musky and citrusy undertones that subtly rose from her skin. Last night she had taken herself into another time and he had been an intruder. Now, with her eyes flashing like steel, he wanted to enjoy the battle. “And this is my house.”

  “I thought my list specified a leased, isolated ranch. I require quiet and privacy. My reports to you on the progress of the project can be made to your Amen Flats office,” Silver stated tightly after a moment.

  A meadowlark trilled in the morning sunlight, and Nick took his time in answering, fascinated as her eyes slashed at him, the color rising in her cheeks. “This was the only available ranch meeting your requirements near Amen Flats.”

  Nick gave her credit; she’d jerked the blue-and-green woven plaid up to her chin like an innocent and blushed when she’d seen him. No doubt the blush waited to be called forth at will, but it and the fast flurry of her hands, gripping the plaid to shield her body, still intrigued him. And now the furious smoky gray of her eyes said she wasn’t backing down; she was settling in to fight.

  In the brittle morning sunlight, stripped of her nngs and bracelets, the false nails and cosmetics, Silver’s walls were high, her temper raging. Nick’s emotions weren’t exactly calm. The sight of a naked woman—all honey shaded curves and long legs—adjusting mirrors in his home had jolted Nick, especially since she’d cried out so painfully during the night. Why did she refuse to have mirrors around her? What did she want?

  Silver’s trembling fingers gripped the mug and, locking her gaze to his, she sipped the coffee. While she replaced it carefully on the pioneer table, scarred from years of use, Nick tried not to look at the smooth sunlit curve of her hip, bared by the plaid.

  She wasn’t backing off, and Nick reluctantly admired that distlnctive Tallchief quality. She flounced gracefully into the chair opposite him, the movement of an athletic female in a snit. He admired the time she took to collect herself, glancing outside to the sheep grazing in the meadow before speaking. “You’ve had your little joke. Now get out.”

  “Let’s go at this easy, okay?” Nick asked as he pushed his empty plate away. He knew instinctively that neither he nor Silver were easy people. When they clashed, it would be wild, lightning and thunder, primitive at a level he’d never experienced.

  Did he want that experience? Just once, to enter the circle of fire as his brothers had?

  Not with this woman, all ice and steel beneath the curves, that lazy, inviting smile she had spared the Tallchiefs.

  She stared at the plate he had placed in front of her. After one bitter glare at him, Silver jerked a fork into her hand and began eating. Nick waited, fascinated as she devoured the hefty meal. “More?” he asked as Silver sighed and pushed her plate away.

  Her look at him was petulant, simmering. “I was hungry, okay? I suppose you enjoy hitting me with this first thing in the morning, don’t you? I suppose you enjoyed playing Peeping Tom while I fixed the mirror.”

  “It’s not every day an Amazon draped in a Tallchief tartan—or less—waltzes around my home.” Nick couldn’t resist. Silver looked so feminine, flustered but not about to leave the battleground. The view of a tall, well-stacked Venus, all soft and rippling female in the right places, had definitely launched a nettling, unwanted desire for her. Nick glanced at her tapping fingers. “Exactly why did you remove the mirror, Silver?”

  Her snit expression changed, locked into a calm mask, shielding what ran deep inside her, but her fingertips continued tapping. “Vanity. Women don’t like to age, you know, and mirrors show every pound.”

  Her answer was too ready and flip, as if she’d answered the question many times. Nick inhaled a curling wisp of her personal fragrance, that seductive light musk laced with a bite of citrus, and wished he hadn’t. “You are a healthy eater.”

  She shrugged and ripped off a length of bacon with her teeth, following it with a healthy bite of biscuit “I am an athlete, bub. Packing and dismantling the shop wasn’t exactly easy. Now explain why this is your house and you are in it.”

  Nick didn’t like pushy women or ready explanations. “There wasn’t another place around and this one matched your requirements perfectly...right down to the lavender and herb garden.”

  She inhaled sharply, eyeing him. “You, of course, will be living here. You’re not the kind to leave his home...to be a gentleman and gracefully recede into the shadows. You’re committed to protecting the Tallchiefs, and I’ll have to deal with you eve
ry inch of the way, won’t I?”

  “Yes. I’m certain we’ll manage.” Nick wanted to be very close to Silver after yesterday’s escapade. “You know, my grandmother is fond of you—I have no idea why, but she is. Therefore, I’m doomed to baby-sit a spoiled—”

  “I worked hard for my skills and my reputation. Nothing was handed to me. I am a very talented ‘Nose’ and you’re supposed to keep me happy, getting me every little thing I want...which isn’t you. Your grandmother is very fond of me. I’ve made certain of it.”

  “You’re not on my menu, either, lady,” Nick returned. She had just confirmed what he had suspicioned, that Silver played people, getting what she wanted—a calculating hunter. And she was good at it, because Mamie seldom let anyone too close to her but had immediately taken to Silver. She’d used her body to get what she wanted from De LaFleur, and now she sought something from the Tallchiefs.

  Nick snorted quietly. Bouncing around the world, he hadn’t made the effort to study a woman’s complexities. That one gentle moment as she stood in the moonlight had scored a hit. He was as susceptible to a woman’s tears and softer moods as any of his brothers or the Tallchiefs.

  On the other hand, those smoky gray eyes strolling over his bare chest this morning slammed into him with enough sensual punch to instantly harden his body. Silver’s seemingly innocent fascination did not equal the experienced women that Nick had known. However, life with De LaFleur would have taken her innocence; Silver knew how to get to a man, and that bothered Nick. She inhaled quickly and jerked her glare to him. “You cannot have your... your women stay here.”

  She was territorial; Nick had studiously avoided possessive females. He reached to flick away the crumb on her bottom lip with his fingertip; the velvety contact burned. “They never have. On the other hand, I wouldn’t appreciate Bill and Bob and Jack dropping in, either. Things could get crowded. Our relationship will be monogamous, at least while you’re staying here... with me. That goes for De LaFleur, too.”