"It could be risky, that's all." Cheryl lay on the couch looking at him, the lamplight gilding her hair and forming pools of shadow above her collarbones. It was as if the air were filled with an emotional charge. They both felt it humming in the silence.
Chase fiddled with his empty glass, wondering if this would complicate or simplify things. The line of demarcation between their professional and personal relationship had been, until now, clearly marked and tacitly observed.
"What do you think about Lebasse?" he said in a clumsy attempt to fill the silence.
"There were rumors that he had cancer. It could have been suicide."
"Do you think so?" Chase was skeptical. "Why choose that way when there are a dozen other ways, all less painful? The whole thing stinks to me."
"What do you want me to do?"
Chase cleared his throat and blinked at her. "What about?"
"Do you want me to fix an appointment for you? Bakersfield is about six hours drive from here. I could try for the day after tomorrow, which wouldn't delay you too much, and in the meantime you could stay here." She was watching him with a feline slyness that was disconcerting. Then her head fell back on the cushion, her large breasts jouncing and trembling inside the loose halter-neck. He realized that she was convulsed with silent laughter.
"What's the joke?" he said mildly. He was stirred and trying hard not to show it.
"We're the joke, Gavin. You and me."
"Are we?"
"Sure. You don't want me to think you're the kind of man who'd take advantage of a dinner invitation to make a pass and I'm being so goddamn careful not to let you know that I know you're not the kind of man to take advantage of a dinner invitation."
"If I could follow that I might agree with you," Chase said, getting up. He went over to the couch and took the glass from her hand. Cheryl raised her head, her impish expression suddenly vanishing.
She looked almost startled but didn't move as he reached over either side of her neck to undo the halter strap. The front of the dress fell away and he saw that the tan extended evenly all the way to her navel. Her breasts rose and subsided voluminously in the lamplight. He eased the shiny dress over her hips and pulled it free and slipped off her briefs so that she lay naked, arms by her side, her lower lip dry and quivering slightly. He could see her heart beating.
He deliberately didn't kiss her, which in a curious way heightened the excitement. Cheryl was breathing heavily, her eyes half-closed as his hands moved with gentle insistence over her body. She arched her back and said huskily, "Christ, I want you so much," and when he leaned forward to kiss her she responded fiercely, pulling him onto her, wanting to feel his weight crushing her.
They made love and when the moment came she moaned and writhed beneath him, her breasts pressed spongily against the dark hairs of his chest, her head twisting from side to side.
"We must have been ciazy to have waited so long," Cheryl said as they lay entwined in a warm contented huddle.
Chase kissed her smooth brown shoulder. "I think I was intimidated," he said, no longer caring whether this complicated or simplified things. What the hell did it matter? It felt right and he felt good; no need to excuse or explain.
"You thought I was intimidating?" Cheryl said, looking at him quizzically from under fair brows. "Seriously?"
"Absolutely," Chase said, straight-faced.
"Bastard," Cheryl murmured and snuggled closer. She felt happy. The months of loneliness in the silent empty house were swept away. She thought of Gordon Mudie and a shudder passed through her. Strange how two men could excite such totally different reactions within her.
"What's the matter?" Chase asked.
"Nothing. Not a thing." She stuck her tongue in his ear. "I was just thinking how glad I am that you're here. You in particular, I mean." Her tongue flicked the lobe of his ear.
"Keep doing that and you'll get more than you bargained for."
"Is that a firm promise?"
Chase let his hand slip down to cup her breast, which weighed heavily in his palm, the nipple stiffening against his thumb. "Yes," he said, feeling the heat starting to rise again. "A very firm promise."
Chase drove north along Interstate 5, skirting the fringes of the Los Padres National Forest. The few remaining acres of what had been a sizable timberland were being encroached upon by the sprawl of Los Angeles from the south and the ever-greedy Vandenberg Spaceport devouring hundreds of square miles inland from the coastal strip. He brought to mind his conversation with Binch and Ruth Patton. The JEG plant was conveniently near Vandenberg--too damn conveniently near for comfort. Was this fanciful paranoia on his part or was there some actual link between them? If so, he couldn't think what.
