Green Fire Read Free

was really looking forward to my first meal with you. Just my luck. Take care. I'll give you a call in the morning."
    "Thanks, Mike. I'm very sorry you won't be able to make it tonight. I'll talk to you in the morning." Rani hung up without another word.
    Flint watched her face. "I take it there's going to be some extra stew?"
    Once again Rani didn't know whether to laugh or groan at Cottrell's blunt approach. "It would appear so, Mr. Cottrell. Would you care for some?"
    "Yes." There was a pause. "Please." The "please" sounded rusty. "And call me Flint." He glanced down pointedly at the empty glass in his large hand.
    Rani didn't need any more of a hint. "I'll get you some more sherry."
    "I'd appreciate it."
    "Will you?" Smoothly she took the glass from him and started toward the kitchen.
Or will you simply take it for granted
, she asked silently,
the way stray cats are inclined to do
?
    Flint watched her walk into the kitchen, something in him approving the proud, graceful way she moved. He liked the shape of her, he realized. In the snug-fitting jeans and golden-yellow sweater she appeared nicely rounded. There was an appealing hint of lushness in the gentle fullness of her hips and breasts. He had never been attracted to the emaciated-model type.
    The rest of her didn't look much like a model, either. Her features were too gentle; very feminine but not sharply defined enough to be riveting, yet they held his full attention when he looked into her face. There was a certain womanly self-confidence in her tawny eyes, but it was a sincere, earnest quality, not cold female arrogance. It was the expression of a woman who had found a place for herself in life, established the boundaries and was satisfied with it. Her hair reminded him of a mixture of dark spices, all deep browns and golds. She wore it in a loose knot on top of her head. From what little he knew of her he guessed she was nearly thirty.
    The most important thing was that she had the ring. Flint took a deep breath and flexed his big callused hands. The cat sitting on the chair arm yawned and gave him an inquiring look.
    "Don't worry, there's room for both of us," Flint told him quietly. "The legend says so."
    "I'm ready to serve," Rani called from the doorway. She watched Zipp jump down from the chair and pad briskly toward her. "You've already had your dinner," she reminded the cat.
    "That stew probably smells as good to him as it does to me." Flint came up out of the chair with an easy movement. "Where can I wash my hands?"
    Rani nodded toward the hall. "Down there on the right." She turned away to serve the simmering stew and accompanying biscuits. For better or worse she was stuck with uninvited company so she might as well be polite. As she ladled out the aromatic mixture, she started worrying about the condition of the little cottage that sat behind the main house. She was concentrating so intently that she didn't hear Flint walk into the kitchen until he spoke from less than two feet behind her.
    "How long are you going to be staying here, Rani?" He took a chair as if he ate at her table every night.
    "Three and a naif weeks. I arrived a few days ago." She deliberately put a certain amount of repressiveness into her tone. It should have been Mike Slater sitting across from her, not a handyman-gardener who had the arrogance of a free-ranging cat.
    "Vacation?"
    "Yes. I had some time coming from the library where I work, so I decided I'd better take it or risk losing it." Firmly she turned the conversation around. "What about you, Flint? How long is your job here expected to last?"
    "Until I finish a project I'm working on." He slathered butter on one of the biscuits and bit down hungrily. Then he spotted the pot of honey and enthusiastically spooned some onto the remaining portion of biscuit.
    "I see." She didn't, of course, but it seemed the logical thing to say under the circumstances. "What made you apply for this particular position?"
    He looked up, his