A Risky Business Page 5

  It wasn't until they were seated in the dimly-lit restaurant Leon had chosen for their meal, that Merle realised she might have been indiscreet. Her interest in paleontology could seem strange when she was supposedly a biologist. Not that she thought about it, Leon had cast her several odd looks during their talk but she hadn't paid any attention to them. Fossils weren't exactly everyone's favourite topic of conversation and she had let her enthusiasm at finding someone who shared her interest override her prudence.

  Her nervousness increased when she glanced up to see Leon eyeing her speculatively. Someone should cut her tongue out. If he was suspecting her now, it was her own fault. Her spirits plunged even further when he suddenly frowned heavily and said, 'You surprise me, Merle. You're obviously very intelligent. I don't understand how you could have been so foolish as to start an affair with Larson.'

  Merle took a large swallow from the cocktail she had ordered earlier. She knew that she should be relieved that he hadn't figured out she was scouting the well, but still she was disappointed that he hadn't changed his mind about her. Keeping her eyes trained on the drink sitting in front of her, she chewed her lower lip. She wanted to defend herself, explain that he was wrong about her relationship with Greg, but she realised she would have to remain silent. Not only would it undoubtedly be pointless, but dangerous as well. As long as he thought she was involved in a passionate love affair with Greg, he wouldn't suspect her real reason for seeing the geologist.

  Having reached this conclusion, she was totally unprepared for his next words. 'You should have realised that as soon as the rumour of your "friendship" reached head office, I would check you out.'

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Merle looked up at him quickly. His expression was amused, as though he were enjoying the confused mingling of emotions that played across her features. And he wasn't angry—did that mean he hadn't found out? But if he had checked her out, he had to know. And if he knew, he would be angry. Merle had a very logical mind. Given a set of facts, with computer-like efficiency she arrived at a conclusion. Unfortunately, with these facts she was caught in an illogical loop that seemed to have no exit.

  'Is something wrong, Merle?' Leon asked mildly.

  'Wrong?' she asked hoarsely.

  'You seem a little… disconcerted?'

  Her lips drew into a narrow line at the mocking question. Leon Crane was enjoying himself immensely at her expense! 'Should I be?' she asked curtly, her chest tightening with impotent anger.

  He laughed softly. 'Why, not at all. You didn't really think I wouldn't see through your little act, did you? A naturalist studying, what was it, the interaction of the different species. Really, I'm ashamed of you. You could have come up with a better cover than that.'

  The waiter arrived with their first course, which should have given Merle a chance to bring her anger and embarrassment under control but didn't. She speared a piece of crab viciously with her seafood fork, imagining it was Leon Crane she was stabbing. She would rather he had been angry than this… this laughing at her. He was treating her like an incompetent ninny, and was obviously not the least bit worried about her scouting his well.

  'These prawns are delicious. How's the crab?' Leon asked pleasantly when Merle had remained silently fuming for several minutes.

  'Fine.' She didn't look up; the word was forced through clenched teeth.

  'Are you going to pout all evening, Merle? After all, you're the one scouting my well, not the other way around,' he said reasonably.

  'I'm not pouting,' Merle said mutinously, then after a silence asked, 'how long have you known?'

  'That you were spying on the site? I suspected you as soon as I saw you with Larson and it didn't take long to have my suspicions confirmed.'

  She raised her head to look at him, her forehead faintly creased. 'Then why…?'

  'Haven't I said anything sooner?' he completed the question for her. 'Several reasons; for one thing, I was hoping to get Larson to come to his senses. Actually, I thought that maybe he had until I saw you at the pool this afternoon. You really have him wrapped around your little finger, don't you? Too bad it's cost him his job.' He took another bite of his seafood, chewing slowly as he savoured the delicate flavour of the prawns.

  'You fired him?'

  'I wasn't given much choice. I told him you were scouting the well and to stay away from you, but he didn't want to listen.' He shrugged slightly, as if firing his field geologist was as inconsequential as crushing a fly. He looked up from his plate and smiled across at her. Seeing her expression, he commented, 'You look puzzled, Merle.'

  She was. Finally, she pushed away her half-eaten starter and frowned at him. 'You're awfully calm about the whole thing.'

  'You expected me to be angry?'

  'Naturally.'

  'I was, at first,' he admitted. 'That's one of the reasons I was so hard on you the other afternoon. That, and I wanted to teach you a lesson. But it would be rather stupid to stay angry. This is the oil business and as long as the leasing system remains as it is, scouts are going to be part of it. Puma uses scouts, so I can hardly complain when other companies do the same.'

  Their salads arrived, along with the bottle of white wine Leon had ordered. Through lowered lashes, Merle watched as Leon attended to the ritual sampling of the wine, admitting to a grudging admiration for him. His was the only sensible attitude to take, but she knew if their positions had been reversed she would never be so reasonable.

  When the waiter left, Leon tasted his salad, then looked across at her. 'Don't misunderstand my attitude, Merle. Just because I understand about your scouting my well, that doesn't mean I'll help you do your job,' he warned. 'In fact, I'll be doing everything possible to make it more difficult for you.' He hesitated a moment, then added, 'And don't waste your time trying your Mata Hari tricks on me.'

  'Is that what you meant when you said you wanted to teach me a lesson the other afternoon?' Merle didn't enjoy bringing that humiliating experience into the conversation, but she wanted to know.

  'That was part of the lesson. I wanted you to understand that while I might enjoy making love to you, you're not going to seduce any information out of me. I also thought it was important for you to realise just what sort of dangerous game you were playing.'

  Merle's eyes were puzzled as she looked over to him. 'I don't understand.'

  'Then it's about time you did. I think I have a pretty good idea of what your relationship with Larson was. You were stringing him along with a lot of empty promises, weren't you? In less polite terms, you were being a tease.' He eyed her sternly. 'Am I right, Merle?'

  She was forced to nod, her cheeks starting to burn. It was a relief to know he had revised his opinion of her but also embarrassing. However, she still didn't understand what he was getting at, and finally told him so.

  'I don't want you turning your attention to another one of my workers now that I've got rid of Larson. That would be trouble, Merle.' There was no mocking amusement in his face now. Leon was deadly serious. 'Larson's told the rig workers he had a far more intimate relationship with you. They figure you've been putting out for him and if you start up with one of them now, he isn't going to let you keep things platonic. He'll want what he figures Larson got.'

  She remembered what he had said about making her job more difficult and interrupted him impatiently, 'How do I know you're not telling me this just so I won't try to develop another contact?'

  'The other afternoon I think I showed you just how vulnerable you are. If I had wanted you, you couldn't have stopped me,' he said harshly.

  'If I had wanted you.' For some reason the words stung and Merle retorted, 'Oh, really? I know how to take care of myself, Mr Crane.'

  'Stop being ridiculous, Merle. You may be able to handle what a lot of people would consider a man's job, but you are not a man. You're smaller and you're weaker. I don't want one of my workers sent up on a rape charge, and I don't think you want that, either.'

  Merle swallowed
hard, taking sudden interest in the play of the candlelight on her wine glass. The cold truth of his words rang through her head. She liked to think of herself as independent, capable, in complete control of her life. Vulnerable—it wasn't an adjective she cared to use in connection with herself. It smacked of helplessness, dependence, submission. She didn't want to be any of those things.

  The waiter brought their entrees, eyeing them curiously as he set the plates in front of them. When he had gone Merle picked up her fork, though in all truth she had little desire for food. She sensed Leon watching her, his own plate ignored, but she didn't want to meet his gaze. Although her anger had for the most part dissolved, she felt a lingering resentment against him. She was aware that there were perils in her occupation and guarded against them. She didn't like snakes, so she kept a sharp eye out for them. When working in the northern bush, she was careful with litter so as not to attract bears. She was cautious, but did not like admitting she was sometimes afraid of the hazards she encountered. But with Leon's talk of vulnerability, of weakness, an element of trepidation had crept into her inviolable self-confidence.

  'Merle,' Leon spoke softly, taking her hand in his. 'You know I'm right, even if you don't want to admit it. I want you to promise me you won't do anything foolish.'

  He squeezed her fingers lightly, and Merle found his eyes with hers. His were soft green and somehow tender as they met hers. Somewhat to her astonishment, she found herself making the promise. She had the strangest feeling that his eyes were telling her that he would make sure that nothing would happen to her. It was perhaps even stranger that she was comforted by the thought. She had never desired a man's protection, had never wanted to feel reliant on a man, yet she wanted to think that Leon would be looking out for her.

  It was after midnight by the time they returned to the motel. After obtaining Merle's promise, Leon had turned out to be a most enjoyable dinner companion. In addition to their mutual interest in fossils and geology, they discovered they shared similar tastes in music and literature. Occasionally, they had disagreed, but their clashes were on the order of lively discussions rather than arguments. When the conversation had centred on geology, Merle hadn't been able to resist venturing a leading question, though Leon's chastening look and deft change of the subject convinced her she was wasting her time.

  These thoughts occupied her as she got ready for bed, but once beneath the sheets, the lights off and her alarm set for dawn, Merle found sleep elusive. All evening she had been aware of the current of sexual tension flowing between them. Though he had treated her with friendly impersonality throughout the evening, on occasion she had looked up from her meal to find him watching her, the expression in his eyes telling her that he was aware of the chemistry between them.

  She shifted in her bed, impatient with the restlessness that kept her awake. He hadn't even kissed her good night, for crying out loud! But before… he had kissed her before, a little voice in her head whispered. She placed her fingertips to her lips, remembering his touch. Her mind wandered to that afternoon out on the prairie, the memory of his body pressed against hers, the sensuous movement of his mouth over hers. Leon Crane would be an expert lover, passionate, demanding, capable of bringing a woman to the heights with him.

  'Oh… shut up!' Merle admonished the persistent voice. Turning over, she pulled the pillow over her head.

  When Merle awoke the next morning she felt rested and strangely happy. Her natural self-confidence had reasserted itself during sleep and in the morning light Leon's warning about staying away from the rig workers seemed misplaced. Though she was still feeling very warmly disposed towards him and was sure he was sincere in his concern about what might happen if she ignored his advice, she felt he was being overly apprehensive.

  Not that she intended breaking her promise. It would be a waste of time. Even if she did manage to start a friendship with one of the workers, after Leon's dismissal of Greg, she was sure the man would be fired before he could be of any value to her. Nonetheless, her conviction that she could handle his employees restored her sense of well-being.

  Over the next two days she didn't see Leon at either the motel or the well site and concluded he must have returned to Calgary the morning following their night out—probably to arrange for a new field geologist. Greg Larson was conspicuous by his absence, and Merle finally questioned the motel manageress about him. Apparently he had checked out the evening Leon had taken her out to dinner. She couldn't help wondering if Leon had taken her to Medicine Hat to keep her out of the way while Greg was making his departure.

  But even though she didn't see him, Leon Crane was very much in her thoughts. Though she was still impressed by his lack of animosity towards her, it was tempting to interpret his very reasonableness as a sign of weakness—a weakness she could perhaps exploit? If he had been angry, she knew she would have had no chance in developing a friendship with him—but he hadn't been angry. Granted he was very shrewd, but he was also attracted to her. Long ago, Merle had decided that men were ruled by their hormones and not their heads. While in pursuit of a female of the species, they tended to forget everything else, including prudence. She wouldn't even need to feel guilty about extracting information from him. After all, he knew who she was, so it she happened to outwit him, it would be perfectly fair.

  Her conviction that she could manipulate Leon for her own purposes increased over the next couple of days. He had stated he would make her job even more difficult, but now that she was no longer working undercover she discovered it was, in fact, even easier. She no longer had to be as careful to conceal her surveillance activities since the rig workers knew they were being scouted. Consequently, she could park the Blazer closer to the site, and move right up to the fence whenever she wanted to observe the drilling. Unfortunately, the rig was shut down during these two days, waiting for a part for the piece of equipment that had broken to arrive, but Merle could envision her job being considerably easier once the drilling resumed.

  Thus, Merle almost laughed with anticipation when she drove by the well site on the third morning and saw that the rig was once again in operation. This job was going to be a piece of cake! She parked the Blazer at the side of the road a mere half-mile from the site fence and jumped out. Shouldering her knapsack, she crossed a short stretch of prairie, then crawled through a four-strand barbed wire boundary fence several hundred yards from the chain-link perimeter fencing surrounding the site.

  The terrain bordering the well was rough and uneven so Merle kept her eyes on the ground as she negotiated the gullies and hillocks. She was just scrambling out of a shallow ravine, when a harsh voice startled her. 'Just hold it right there, lady!'

  Merle's head flew up to find a man, accompanied by a large, black dog, standing in her path. The man, of indeterminate age, was dressed in worn, faded blue overalls and a checked flannel workshirt. A battered, sweat-stained cowboy hat shaded a rugged, deeply tanned face set with hard, brown eyes. Before Merle could gather her scattered wits, he continued, 'This land's posted. You just better head back the way you came.'

  'Posted?' Merle echoed, then recalled the tattered no-trespassing sign on one of the fence posts behind her. It had been there since she started scouting the site and until now, she had ignored it. No one had approached her before, so it hadn't seemed to have any significance. After all, she wasn't doing any damage to the property, as she quickly assured the rancher.

  'I don't care what you're doing,' the man stated flatly. 'This is my land and you're trespassing on it. I want you off.'

  'But…'

  'You don't want me to have old Laddie Boy here help you, do you?' he interrupted. For the first time, Merle took a good look at the dog. It was a large animal, standing thigh-high to the man. He looked like some sort of Shepherd-cross, with bristly, black hair that appeared to have never seen a grooming brush. The dog was staring at her with small, mean-looking black eyes, the ruff of his neck raised. Merle's mouth went dry when, with a low rumble in
his throat, the dog curled its lips back and exposed enormous, yellow fangs. Automatically, she took a step backward, almost falling into the gully she had just crawled out of.

  'I see you don't, so you had better get going, lady,' the rancher warned.

  'Of… of course, I—I'm sorry,' she stammered, her eyes skittering to the man, then riveting back on the dog. Laddie Boy? Killer would have been a better name: she had never seen such a vicious looking animal. Laddie Boy growled a little louder, and Merle quickly side-stepped into the gully, keeping one eye on the dog. With more haste than grace, Merle stumbled her way back to the barbed wire fence, constantly checking over her shoulder to see if the dog was following. On the other side, she broke into a run, not slowing her pace until she reached the safety of the truck.

  Once inside the cab of her truck, her heartbeat settled back to normal and her brain started to clear. As it did, a slow burning fury started flowing through her. She slammed her fist against the steering wheel of the truck. 'Damn him!' she swore. Leon! Leon was the one behind this. He was the one who had told the rancher to scare her off the property. And it had worked! There was no way she was going to risk meeting up with Laddie Boy again.

  Her temper had cooled only slightly when she went to the truckstop for her meal that evening. She had wasted most of the day tracking down the owner of the hilltop to be certain she at least had his permission to use it as an observation post. Even though he had granted her request, she was still angry. The hill was over a half a mile from the site and was a poor substitute for a closer position. But, given the lie of the land surrounding the well, it was the only option she had.

  She was munching on a hamburger, occupying her mind by thinking of all the tortures she would devise for Leon Crane if she ever had him in her power, when the object of her thoughts entered the cafe. Without hesitation, he strolled over to her table. A smile curved his lips and amusement added a glint to his eyes as he slid into the seat opposite her. Merle had just been imagining that face contorted with pain as she slowly turned the crank on a medieval torture rack, and started to choke on a piece of meat.