Out of the Depths

CHAPTER FIVE

KYNDAL CHECKED THE MAP Chance had drawn for her the night before. His driveway should be coming up around the next bend. For the gazillionth time that morning, she told herself going back to the cave with Chance was not tempting fate—it was shaping destiny. The shots of that crystal room would get her the job with the magazine, give her back her good name and prove to Chance Brennan she really was somebody, after all. So those shots were worth whatever the cost. An hour or two of emotional discomfort seemed reasonable enough.

She’d survived last night, hadn’t she?

Seeing the success he’d become juxtaposed with her failures dredged up old insecurities with a vengeance, and pushed this job higher on her necessity scale than just a means to a steady paycheck.

Adding to that misery was her realization that, in spite of the animosity between them, Chance Brennan still had an effect on her mentally and physically—an over-the-top effect.

Yesterday in the sheriff’s office, she’d had some freedom to move around. But, last night at Max’s, she’d been trapped for three hours in the torture of his occasional touch. Keeping a safe distance today was her only hope of coming out of this with pride and dignity intact.

Jaci had been adamant the strategy-of-choice today was to be an outrageous flirt, talk incessantly about Rick Warren and make it sound like they were a hot item, then leave without a backward glance. And Jaci could probably pull that off. Flirting came as natural as eating for her.

Kyndal, on the other hand, had been unable to finish a piece of pizza or a breakfast roll since Chance made his suggestion to go back to the cave. If eating didn’t come naturally, where did that leave flirting?

She unclenched her jaw. Decision made. Strategy set. No flirting. No Rick discussion. No way. No how. Friendly—but distant. All business. Casual business. And above all, no touching.

Two reflectors and a mailbox with the numbers 343 stenciled on the side signaled Chance’s driveway. She quelled the trembling in her hands by gripping the steering wheel. The long gravel path meandered uphill through the woods, which were ablaze in the fiery reds and yellows of maples and wild dogwoods. In the spring, it would be a fairyland of creamy-white blooms—a stunning shot she quickly pushed from her mind. No returning to this place after today. Blooming dogwoods could be found anywhere in Kentucky come spring.

The chimney, followed by a roof and the second story of a charming old farmhouse rose into sight as she approached the summit of the hill. Its fresh coat of white paint stood out against the fall colors, yet it didn’t look at all out of place. The trees surrounding the house had grown tall, and their branches spread shade across it like protective arms. They’d obviously been there a long time—living proof some things were meant to be together.

A porch wrapped around the front and side of the house, inviting with its cushioned wicker chairs and couches and a swing at one end.

She squeezed the steering wheel a bit more tightly when she spotted Chance waving a folded newspaper in welcome. No doubt about it—he looked as good in person as he had last night in her dreams.

Idiotic dreams!

A chocolate Lab jumped from the front porch and ran to meet her, carrying a Frisbee and wagging its tail.

Kyndal brought the car to a slower-than-necessary stop, hoping it appeared she was careful rather than stalling. “Today will bring the perfect shot that will make me somebody. No flirting. No touching,” she whispered, plastering on her most confident smile.

As soon as she stepped from the car, the Frisbee was offered at her feet. She laughed and picked it up, much to the delight of the dog whose tail wagged vehement approval. The Lab shot after the spinning disc the second it left her hand, stretching and jumping to bring it down from midflight.

Kyndal clapped in praise.

“You’ll be sorry you did that.” Chance’s voice startled her with its nearness. She turned to find him only a foot away, a cup of coffee poised at his lips.

She shifted her weight and took a step back, holding her palms out to check them for mud. “Why will I be sorry?” The gesture gave her a couple of seconds to examine the striking form in front of her—something she hadn’t really had the opportunity to do the day before.

The day was warm enough that they’d both chosen

T-shirts. His black one stretched across his chest, showing the outline of very pronounced pectorals, hidden the day before under his sweater. He’d been put together nicely during high school, but he’d never had biceps like these, threatening to burst the seams of his sleeves.

As she put her hands down, her eyes drifted up to his face. Boyish charm had been replaced by rugged sensuousness. Coarse stubble filled the lower half of his face—another change since high school. Back then, he’d fretted he’d never be able to grow a beard. Didn’t seem to be an issue now.

In answer to her question, he nodded to her feet where the Frisbee lay again and a pair of hopeful eyes beamed from a chocolate snout. “Because Chesney doesn’t know when to stop. She’ll chase and fetch as long as you’ll throw.”

Chance’s closeness brought the tangy smell of Irish Spring soap to her nose. The scent chased her memory across nine years to a morning when his parents left early, and she’d gone to his house before school. They’d showered together, making love standing up, enveloped in warm water and Irish Spring-scented steam.

She grabbed the Frisbee and tossed the memory away with it. “One more and that’ll have to hold us.”

“I was afraid you’d stand me up.” The corners of Chance’s mouth lifted as he took another sip of his coffee.

He wouldn’t be grinning if he knew how many times that thought had crossed her mind since last night.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” she lied. She covered her guilt by a quick look around. “You have a beautiful place. How long have you lived here?”

“Just over a year. I’ve still got a lot to do.” He motioned toward the three-car, detached garage where a row of window shutters leaned against the side in various stages of being painted forest-green. “But it’s coming. Would you like to see the inside?”

The eagerness in his voice made Kyndal swallow the refusal on her tongue and nod an okay instead. She’d have a home of her own someday to show off, so it was easy to understand his pride.

He led the way up the side steps into a spacious country kitchen with glossy hardwood floors, white marble countertops and black cabinetry.

“This is gorgeous.” Kyndal nodded her approval at the stainless appliances and hardware brushed to look like pewter. “You’re quite a decorator.”

“Thanks, but I can’t take much credit. When I first began looking at the place, I started buying designing magazines and clipping pictures. Luckily, I found a contractor with some vision.”

The smell of fresh coffee against a backdrop of cinnamon made Kyndal’s stomach growl fiercely.

His eyebrows drew in with concern. “Are you hungry?”

She didn’t think her stomach would agree to food yet although the smell was tempting. She shook her head.

“How about some coffee?”

“Mmm. It smells wonderful, but I’d better not unless you’ve had a bathroom installed in that cave.” She laughed, letting go of some nervousness but reminding herself not to tilt her head sideways because that might be construed as flirting.

The tour went quickly since most of the walls had been knocked down, forming an enormous great room with strategically placed columns where support was needed. The room was warm with leather furniture the color of molasses and a fireplace crackling at one end. Chance silenced it with a remote. “Gas,” he explained to her surprised expression. “It felt good early this morning before I went outside, but we sure don’t need it now.”

Upstairs was still under construction with plastic sheeting hung across doorways. Two of the bedrooms were being combined into a large master suite. One was full of boxes from his move, and the last held only a bed, dresser and bedside table.

Kyndal took a peek and then hurriedly turned away as her heartbeat rose to a pounding in her ears. Chance’s old mahogany bedroom suite. She was so not going to let herself think about times spent in that bed.

A couple of inconspicuous deep breaths brought her heartbeat under control as she moved to the railing. She gripped it and focused on the fireplace below. “Everything is really lovely.” Her voice came out high and strained like an old beagle’s howl.

“Sorry about the dust.” Chance mercifully closed the door to her nostalgia. “It’s more house than I need right now.” He leaned his elbows on the banister, his arm and leg brushing hers. “But I hope to fill it up with a family someday.”

She glanced at him and found his espresso gaze locked on her. “Oh?” She scooted over a couple of inches and coughed, hoping the knot in her chest would shake loose. “Is Chesney pregnant?”

Chance rubbed his hand down his face. “Lord, I hope not. She’s just a baby herself.” He gave a low, meaningful chuckle. “Besides, someday means years from now—when my practice is built and I’m well on my way to being a judge.”

“So you plan on getting involved in politics.” Obviously since judges are elected officials.

He shrugged. “Nonpartisan…but yeah.”

She wouldn’t allow herself to analyze why his words squeezed at her heart. She just wanted to go to the cave, get her shots, then hightail it back to Dover, Tennessee, and dreams of a new job—with a few fantasies of Ranger Rick thrown in for good measure.

She turned her back to Chance. “Do you have a stepladder?” She threw the question over her shoulder as they made their way down the stairs. “We may need it to reach the opening to the vug.”

“Yeah, I have one, but we don’t want to lug that with us for a half mile.” Chance waved away the idea. “If the opening’s no higher than you said, I can boost you up and then make the jump myself.”

His hands were going to have to touch her body in various places. Her mouth went dry at the thought. She’d have to steel herself not to react. It had been a while since anybody had touched her anyplace interesting.

Chance grabbed the backpack by the kitchen door as they headed out.

The temperature had risen even higher, and the sky had darkened appreciably since they went inside. Humidity hung heavy in the air with a cloying stickiness.

“It’s so warm, they’re calling for a chance of hail. Better put your car in the garage.” Not giving her time to argue, Chance went to the keyless entry by the garage door and punched in a code.

Kyndal pulled her Jeep in, allowing only a brief comparison of her car to the black SUV and the sleek, silver Porsche Boxster occupying the other two spots. She was careful not to crowd the corner obviously set up for Chesney with a doggie door, blankets, and food and water dispensers.

She pulled her backpack out of the backseat and slung it over her shoulder. “Will Chesney follow us?”

Chance shook his head as he punched the button to let the garage door down. “She wears an electric collar that gives her the run of about two acres. She’ll know when to turn back.” He motioned toward a well-worn path through the trees behind the garage. “Follow the yellow brick road.”

The Munchkin voice coming from such a body was too incongruous, and Kyndal laughed in spite of herself.

“Well, it’s about time.” Chance’s arm went around her shoulder in a quick hug as they walked. “I’ve been waiting to hear a real laugh from you for almost twenty-four hours.”

The hug felt nice. Not flirtatious. Almost like the one this morning from Bart.

Maybe she was being too sensitive. Maybe it was time to let go of her hurt and embarrassment. Loosen up. Count her blessings. She had a night out with her best friends, a photo-worthy cave and an old friend to share it with, a promising hope of a new job—not bad for someone who’d been facing jail time the day before.

All right, it didn’t have to be just business. She threw her arm around Chance’s waist and hugged back. “Sorry I’ve been so uptight. The whole experience yesterday messed with my mind, you know? Too many shocks to the system for one day.”

Thunder rumbled through the trees, sending Chesney scurrying back toward the garage. “Well, don’t let your guard down just yet. There are some surprises still in store.” His arm tightened briefly around her, then he let go and quickened his pace.

As if to punctuate his words, a raindrop plopped onto the end of her nose.

She broke into a jog to keep up.

* * *

THEY MADE IT INSIDE THE CAVE just before the storm broke. Chance watched Kyndal shiver as the coolness dropped over them like a wet blanket.

He rubbed the back of his fingers against her arm. “Cold?” It was a lame excuse to touch her again, but touching her was all he’d been able to think of since she’d gotten out of her car. The pink T-shirt hung loose from her shoulders, giving no hint of the curves that had been so obvious yesterday. He wanted to touch them, feel for himself they were still there and ignore the voice of reason telling him that would be a mistake

She shook her head as two hard buds poked through the cotton, contradicting her answer but enhancing the appeal of the T.

“I’ve got a couple of things to show you if you’ve got the time.” He watched the debate play across her face when she checked her watch. Her “other person” was probably expecting her. He threw out additional enticement. “Some interesting things about the cave…if the kids haven’t vandalized them since I was here last.”

“Are vandals a problem?” Kyndal’s brows knitted.

“You decide for yourself.” He pulled a battery-operated lantern from his backpack.

“Whoa!” Kyndal leaned back, squinting against the light shining in her face. “You’re packing a big one!”

“Well, you ought to know.”

Kyndal snorted at his innuendo. Her eyes darted away before coming back to meet his. “I remember reading somewhere that alcohol shrinks the male genitals.” She let her eyes drift downward, stop to squint at his crotch, then brought them back up to lock with his. “Sooo, how much drinking did you do at Hah-vahd?”

The last word dripped with sarcasm, more biting than funny, and it wasn’t difficult to read the tension in her posture. The merest mention of their past and she’d gone from friendly to pissed in thirty seconds. He would heed the warning and watch what he said. No use getting her riled for the short time they were going to be together.

He turned the lantern so the beam illuminated the dark end of the entry room, bringing to life the neon paint graffiti from the past two months that marred the beauty of the past ten thousand years. Beer cans and liquor bottles littered the floor.

Kyndal’s gasp spoke her horror at the sight.

“My feelings exactly.” His stomach turned at every name scrawled across the limestone. Levi. Mattie. Rachel. Brant. “‘Fools’ names like fools’ faces—’”

“‘Always seen in public places.’” Kyndal shook her head slowly. “This is awful. How can they do this? Why do they do this?” Anger and sadness flashed in her eyes, which deepened to emerald in the dim light.

“They’re just young.” He shrugged, not really having an answer. “They don’t realize how special it is.”

“We were young, too, but we knew exactly how special it was.” Her eyes widened. The words hadn’t meant to be spoken, but had somehow escaped. She bit her lip and turned away, moving closer toward the wall of names. “Will anything take it off?” She skimmed the wall with her fingertips, a mother soothing a wounded child.

“Time.”

“Time.” She heaved a sigh. “Heals all wounds.” She pulled her camera from the pack and made a few shots of the names.

Her back was toward him, and the light caught in her black hair, which hung loose and sleek. He itched to touch it, to run his hand down it and into it, to turn her around and look into those emerald eyes, to run his fingers from her temples to the tips of those strands of black silk.

He raised his arm, stretched his fingers hesitantly.

Don’t be stupid.

He dropped his hand back to his side and breathed. “C’mon.”

They stopped for a few minutes to survey the damage in the next room. No permanent damage, but clear indications of what the teens had been up to. A couple of air mattresses surrounded by handfuls of condom wrappers, empty liquor bottles, some roach clips and meth pipes. When Buck had used the term orgy, Chance thought he was exaggerating.

Kyndal cleared her throat self-consciously, but remained silent. Did the leftover sexual litter remind her of their time there, the way it did him? Talking about it felt too edgy, so he kept quiet, as well.

Leading the way through passages long familiar to him, he pulled her into the adjoining cavern and then deeper into another one.

“You know where you’re going?” Her voice held an edge of skepticism.

“Yep.” He turned the beam of light onto a slab of limestone that looked slightly out of place—as if it had fallen from the ceiling and had been propped against the wall. He let go of her hand and pushed the slab to one side revealing a narrow tunnel. “We have to crawl through, but it’s not very far.”

Kyndal bent down for a look. When she raised back up, her eyes were hooded with doubt.

“If you want your backpack, you’ll have to take it off and shift it through ahead of you. It might be easier to hang your camera around your neck, but push it around to your back.”

Her derisive sigh let him know he’d better not be wasting her precious time, but she shrugged out of her backpack. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Brennan.” She gave him a push. “You first.”

“I know what I’m doing,” he assured her. “I’m going to show you one reason I think Old Man Turner ran us away that day.”