Desert Heat Read Free Page A

night stands, and a dresser. A TV, stereo, and a
collection of CDs covered the dresser. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases took up one
wall; an antique roll-top desk swamped with papers dominated the other.
    He moved in front
of the desk, and blocked her view of the torn map laying there. “Welcome to my
home, Miss James.”
    She glanced around
with a puzzled look. “Where do you eat?”
      “I generally have meals with the staff in the dining
room. Or at least I did.” Bitterness filled his voice.
      “Where did my dad stay? How could he afford
this on a full-time basis?”
      He held his hands up in a gesture of
surrender. Like he had done something wrong,
    instead of something nice. He didn’t know why he was
reacting this way to a woman he barely knew. “I let Skeeter stay from time to
time, when he needed a place, but he wasn’t around much.”
      “I see.” Her tone suggested she didn’t. “May I
see where he . . . died?”
    They walked out,
back past her room and down the hall. Going through a door, they came out at
the far end of the building. Silently, they went side-by-side down a red gravel
path lined with purple oleanders. Finally, the trail opened to a row of small
adobe cabins. At the last one, again slipping the master key out of his pocket,
Mike unlocked the door and pushed it open.
    With a glance at
him, Mallory stepped inside.
    A strong
antiseptic odor hit her nostrils. Styled much like hers, the room was empty
except for a dresser, night stand, and lamp. There was no bed. Generic desert
prints adorned the walls. If she hoped to find some essence of her father here,
she was sadly disappointed. “Did he sleep on the floor?”
      “I had to burn the mattress. He laid there a long time.”
    His words cut her
heart. “I see.” She took another step into the sterile room. “Did he have any
possessions?”
      “Very little. What he
had is here.” He indicated a green duffel bag. “Oh, and
Nobody.”
      “Nobody?”
      “ Skeeter’s little
burro. I’ll show you.” He stood at the door, one hand on the knob.
    With a last look
in the death chamber, Mallory backed out with her hands over her mouth. She
uncovered her nose and sucked in several gasps of fresh, flower-scented air. “I
didn’t expect this. I thought he would die on an archeological dig in the
Sahara, like Indiana Jones or someone romantic.”
      “You okay?” Mike’s blue eyes were kind.
      She felt like she had been punched. “Yes.”
      “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Nobody.” Mike
took her arm and guided her down another red gravel pathway to a barn and
several corrals. Thirty horses stood either munching hay from large metal tubs
or resting under loafing sheds, swishing their tails. An ugly little burro
dozed. in a pen by himself.
    Mallory touched
one long ear and the burro opened an eye. “This is Nobody ?”
      “This is him,” Mike confirmed.
    Gently, she
stroked the burro’s neck. “Hi, little guy. What are we going to do with you? I
don’t have room for you at my house in Vegas.”
      “He can stay here if you want,” Mike offered.
He patted the burro’s neck. “I kinda like having him
around. And the guests’ kids will love him when they come back.”
      “I couldn’t possibly impose any further.” She slid her slender fingers over the burro’s soft nose.
      “It’s no trouble. Look, he’s used to it here. Trailering him to Las Vegas would be expensive, far more
than he’s worth. I feed a lot of horses; one more small mouth isn’t going to
make a difference. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it.” Mike met her
troubled gaze. “He’s earned a nice retirement. Let me provide it.”
      “Please let me pay his board. You’ve already
done so much.”  
      “Not a chance,” he said with a smile.
    “Okay, then,” she
said. “Thank you.”
      “Would you like to rest? Swim?” He glanced at
a watch on his wrist. “It’s nearly noon. How about lunch,
then a