Running From the Storm. Lee Wilkinson
like a satisfied cat; they traversed the quiet square and joined the busy evening stream of traffic.
Some five minutes later they had left the outskirts of the city behind them and were heading roughly south-west.
Seeing the wooded peaks of the Catskills in the distance, she asked, ‘Where exactly are we going?’
‘The restaurant is called Le Jardin Romarin. It’s rather a special place, and they have an excellent French chef.’
‘How far is it?’
‘Not too far. It’s near the mountains, on the outskirts of a pretty little village called Bright Angel Falls.’
‘Oh, we once drove through Bright Angel Falls!’ she exclaimed. ‘I remembered it because it was such a lovely name.’
‘Do you know the area well?’
‘Not very well. But my father took me that way once or twice when I was younger, and I always thought it was really picturesque.’
‘So it is,’ he agreed. ‘That’s why I chose to buy a house in that area.’
If he had a house, as well as an apartment in town and a luxury car, he must be a relatively wealthy man; the way he dressed seemed to confirm that.
But, even if he hadn’t had a cent, with his looks and charisma it was a wonder he was still free.
They were following a quiet, spruce-lined road when he broke into her thoughts to remark, ‘We’ll soon be at the bridge that spans the Bright Angel Gorge. If you look to your left, you’ll get a good view of the falls. They’re quite spectacular.’
When they dropped down an incline, Caris saw the bridge ahead of them, and on the opposite side a small parking area from which a short but steep and narrow flight of rocky steps led down to a viewpoint guarded by a chest-high railing.
As they crossed the bridge, she glanced left, as she had been bidden. A series of delicate waterfalls, looking like skeins of bright spun silk, plummeted gracefully into the rocky depths; lit by the rays of the sinking sun, a rainbow arched in the air, forming a multicoloured halo.
Her first thought was that he had been right to call them spectacular. In fact even that adjective seemed to be something of an understatement.
When he glanced at her, as if trying to judge her reaction, she said a little huskily, ‘They’re magnificent. Absolutely magnificent.’
‘So is the gorge itself. But it’s so deep you can only see it properly by going down to the viewpoint.’
‘Could we do that? Have we time?’
‘If you want to go down, we’ll make time.’ As he spoke, he was drawing into the car park.
Having helped her from the car, he warned, ‘Better let me go first. Some of the steps are worn and uneven, and could be tricky with those high heels.’ Carefully, she followed him down and, standing by the railings, looked over into the gorge.
The tumbled rocks and surging white water far below took her breath away, and she was still gazing in wonder when her companion reminded her, ‘If you want to get down to Catona tonight we’d better be moving.’
The awesome scene still filling her mind, she held on to the metal handrail and began to climb back up the steps, Zander at her heels.
She had almost reached the top when she missed her footing and slipped off a step.
Her companion stopped her falling and held her steady until she’d had time to gather herself, before asking, ‘Any damage done?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ she answered.
But when she tried to climb the remaining steps she couldn’t prevent a gasp of pain.
‘What is it?’
Reluctantly, she admitted, ‘I’m afraid I’ve twisted my ankle.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘HOLD on,’ he instructed, and squeezed past her. ‘Now then, put your free arm around my neck.’
She obeyed and, lifting her clear of the steps, he swung her up into his arms.
Though he was no stranger to women, he was unprepared for how the weight of her slim yet curvaceous body lying against his set his heart beating faster.
For her part, Caris felt distinctly awkward. Being carried was an unfamiliar sensation for a woman of five feet seven who weighed a hundred and thirty pounds and she was pleased they had the place to themselves so there was no one to stare.
After a moment or two the awkwardness passed. He bore her weight with such ease that by the time they reached the car she was starting to feel safe, protected and feminine, and to quite like the novel experience.
When she was settled on the front passenger seat, he crouched to pull off her sandal and examine her left ankle and foot. As his long fingers probed, she couldn’t prevent a wince.
He glanced up sharply.
‘It’s all right,’ she assured him.
His examination over, he reported, ‘There doesn’t seem to be anything broken, but it’s started to swell already, and it’s my guess that you have quite a nasty sprain.’
Then, his tone vexed, ‘I’m an absolute fool! I should have had more sense than take you down there in those heels.’
‘It isn’t your fault,’ she assured him quickly. ‘I should have had more sense than go down. But I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. And it’s really not too painful.’
As she moved her foot experimentally, a stab of agony made her gasp, giving the lie to her words.
‘Take your stocking off,’ he instructed. ‘I’ve a first-aid box in the trunk.’
While he was gone, on the grounds that it was better to have bare legs than be odd, she took off both her stockings and put them in her purse.
He returned after a moment or two with the box and, having applied an analgesic spray and a crepe bandage, asked, ‘How does it feel now?’
‘Much better, thank you,’ she replied cheerfully as she slipped her sandals back on and swung her legs into the car.
‘That’s good. Though I doubt if you’ll be doing much serious walking for a few days.’
‘Oh Lord!’ In the excitement of the moment, she had given scant thought to her vacation.
‘I suppose I ought to warn Sam that I may not be able to join the group. But I don’t want to disappoint her unless I’m forced to.’
‘Then why not wait until we get to the restaurant?’ Zander suggested. ‘If you leave it for a while you may have a better idea of just how much of a problem the ankle’s going to be.’
‘You’re right, of course.’
When he had slammed the car door, he replaced the first-aid box and got behind the wheel.
As he drove, his thoughts were busy. It was odds on that her ankle would prevent her from joining a trekking party, but would she still want to join her friend in Catona?
He rather hoped not. Past experience told him she was already attracted to him, and he couldn’t wait to get her into bed.
With a lot of women it would have been easy—too easy, in fact. Most of them had been so over-eager he’d soon become bored and only too keen to bring things to an end.
But already he felt certain that this woman was different. Rather than being the worldly, extrovert, anything-goes type, she was quiet and self-contained and, beneath what he guessed was normally a cool, composed exterior, maybe even a little shy.
Suddenly he was looking forward to finding out, filled with anticipation at the thought