one of the tours as well?’
His glance now went to the hotel tour brochure. It was extensive—part of the offering the resort made to visitors. It included personalised tours to anywhere in the US West they might want to visit. Far or near.
‘Maybe,’ he went on, his expression still bland, but belied by a glint in those incredibly blue dark-lashed eyes that was telling Fran something not bland in the slightest, ‘you might like to start with the Sunset Drive this evening?’
Fran’s heart gave a little unconscious skip but she frowned slightly—her first glance at the brochure hadn’t listed such a tour.
‘It’s one of the personalised ones.’ On cue came the answer to her unspoken question. His voice was as bland as his expression. ‘It sets off from here late afternoon, going to a viewing spot for the sunset. It’s only a couple of hours. You’ll be back in time for dinner.’
He smiled. Not the desert wolf smile, but a bland smile, his long dark lashes dipping over his blue, blue eyes.
Fran considered it. Carefully analysed it for all the pros and cons for all of five seconds. Then gave her answer.
‘Sounds good,’ she said, and smiled a bland smile in return.
‘Great,’ he said.
Satisfaction was in his voice. Mission accomplished. Fran heard it, and it amused her. Nothing about this man was putting her off. He was being open about his intentions—conspiratorial, even. And yet she realised she still didn’t actually know whether this Sunset Drive was really part of the hotel’s offering to guests or was a particularly personalised tour, customised for herself alone.
That he would turn out to be the driver for this Sunset Drive, and she the sole passenger, she had little doubt at all.
And no reservations either.
He got to his feet—again, remarkably smoothly and easily for a man with his powerful frame—and smiled down at her again. His expression was just a touch less bland. A touch more openly appreciative.
‘I’ll fix it,’ he said, and lifted a hand in casual farewell and strolled away.
As he went Fran’s eyes went after him, saw how he paused to say something to one of the waitresses—a young woman whose expression as he talked to her told Fran that she was not the only female susceptible to that unforced, laid-back charm, those powerful good looks. Whatever the man had to draw women to him he had it in spades.
She gave a little sigh that turned into a good-humoured wry smile. She’d felt restless, mentally wiped from the conference—as if she were surfacing after a long, intensely focussed cerebral engagement that had lasted a whole year since she’d realised that making her life with Cesare was not what she wanted to do after all.
And now suddenly, out of nowhere, the future was beckoning to her. A future that was her own—that held more than her career. That held adventure—
And if that adventure, for now, happened to include a man who was making it very clear that she was pleasing to his eye—a man who was pleasing her eye in a way that was as totally unexpected as it was unpredicted—well, she would go for that.
She felt that lift inside her come again, that heady quickening of her pulse.
And welcomed it.
* * *
‘Hi, let me help you up.’
Nic handed Fran up into the SUV he’d commandeered and parked on the hotel forecourt, before vaulting into the driver’s seat. He’d changed into a western shirt, jeans and boots, and saw that for her part she’d sensibly put on firmer footwear, a loose shirt and long cotton trousers.
‘One Sunset Drive coming up,’ he said, casting his wolf-like smile at her, making Fran glad she was wearing sunglasses. Making her glad she was taking a chance for a change.
He fired the engine, easing the SUV down the hotel drive on to the main highway, then turning to her as he settled into a cruising speed. ‘So, did you enjoy your leisurely afternoon, Dr Ristori?’
It was an amiable, courteous enquiry, and she answered in kind, accepting that he must know her name from the hotel register. ‘Yes, I wrote up my notes then got in a swim and flopped on a lounger poolside. Totally lazy.’
‘Well, why not?’ he answered easily. ‘Your vacation—your choice.’
He glanced at her—a throwaway glance that was hidden by his aviator sunglasses, accompanied by a smile indenting around his mouth. It was a friendly, open smile, yet one that acknowledged that behind the word ‘choice’ there was more than whether or not she had had a lazy afternoon.
A lot more might be hers to choose.
She answered with a flickering smile and looked away, down the dusty road stretching through the desert landscape like something out of a Western movie.
He didn’t talk any more as he drove, and after some miles he turned off up an unmade track, along the edge of a bluff that terminated in a rocky col overlooking a valley beyond, where he parked.
As they got out the heat and the silence enveloped them. Nic jammed a wide-brimmed hat on his head, offering her one for herself, which she dutifully donned against the glare of the lowering sun. He then helped himself to a backpack holding twin water bottles and the mandatory emergency kit.
‘It’s about a ten-minute hike now,’ Nic said, and set off up a trail that led higher among the rugged outcrops.
Fran followed nimbly, and as they gained height saw the valley beyond fill with deep golden light, the azure sky arching above. It seemed very far from anywhere, with only the wind keening in her ears. Eventually they reached a flat outcrop affording a ringside view of the sight they had come to see and they settled down, backs against the warm rock behind them.
‘Now we wait,’ Nic said.
He passed her a water bottle and Fran drank thirstily. So did he. Before their eyes the sun was starting to lower into the horizon, turning deep bronze as it did so. Fran gazed, mesmerised, glad of her sunglasses as the sun seemed to fuse with the earth, flushing the azure sky with a halo of deep crimson until finally it slipped beyond the rim of the ever-turning globe and the sky began to darken.
She slid the dark glasses from her face, and saw him do likewise. Then he turned to her.
‘Worth it?’ he asked laconically.
She nodded. ‘Oh, yes,’ she breathed.
Her eyes met his, held, and for a moment—just a moment—something was exchanged between them. Something that seemed to go with this slow, unhurried landscape, desolate but with a beauty of its own, lonely but intensely special.
A thought occurred to her, and she heard herself give voice to it.
‘I don’t know your name,’ she said. She said it with a little frown, as if it were strange to have shared this moment with him not knowing it.
He gave her his slow smile, holding out his strong, large hand.
‘Nic,’
