Midnight Jewels

added forcefully.
    "Any other requests?"
    She didn't care for the cold tone of his voice. "Yes. See if they have a safe. I think I'd like to put
Valley
into it for the night."
    He stopped abruptly and stared down at her. "Why in hell do you want to do that? You haven't worried about keeping it in your apartment for me past few weeks. Why start fretting about it now?"
    "I don't know," she said honestly. "Maybe it's because this place is so rundown looking. It doesn't exactly inspire confidence in the staff, does it? No telling who's working here. I'll bet the locks on the doors are the kind you can open with a credit card. Women traveling alone learn to take precautions, Croft. If some joker decided to prowl my room looking for cash while I was asleep he might accidentally find
Valley
and take it on a whim."
    "You wouldn't have to worry about that if you were sleeping with me."
    His logic was unassailable, so she decided to twist it. "No," she agreed tardy, "I wouldn't. You're not me type to prowl motel rooms going through ladies' purses, are you?"
    "Not on my good days."
    The clerk behind the desk proved helpful and courteous, to Mercy's surprise. After he had assigned them their rooms, he accepted me paper wrapped copy of
Valley
and put it in the motel safe. The safe was an ancient tiling, but it looked solid enough, Mercy thought. She felt better knowing the nucleus of her business future was safely stowed for the night.
    Over an uninteresting, distinctly greasy meal of hamburgers and fries in the empty coffee shop, Mercy attempted to keep up a cheerful conversation with Croft. But he hadn't been overly talkative all day and didn't appear inclined to change the situation now. Once again Mercy had the impression his mind was on other things. It was frustrating. It was also depressing.
    So much for using this little jaunt to Colorado to get to know each other, she decided gloomily.
    By the time Mercy crawled into the lumpy bed and turned out the light that had illuminated the plain, cheaply furnished room, she was seriously wondering whether anyone ever got to know Croft Falconer very well. She doubted it.
    She lay in silence for a few minutes listening for sounds from the room next to hers. Croft had gotten the room next door. The walls were thin but other than plumbing sounds she couldn't hear any sign of him.
    That was hardly surprising, she told herself. The man moved like a ghost. Mercy fluffed her pillow, turned on her side and closed her eyes.

    Croft stood in darkness watching the shadows outside the motel room window. He had opened the window earlier in an effort to get some fresh air into the musty, damp smelling room. The pine and fir outside sighed in anguish. Mercy was right, he thought in fleeting amusement. The trees did make weird sounds. They also cut off most of the starlight that tried to filter through them. The darkness on the forest floor was very thick.
    But unlike Mercy he didn't find the heavy darkness oppressive. He could understand her instinctive reaction. She was a creature of the light. Glowing, transparent, vibrant with color. He, on the other hand, was a creature of the night. He comprehended darkness, knew it on an intimate level, used it, acknowledged it, accepted it.
    Half an hour before Mercy had finally settled down to sleep. He had listened to her rustle around the room, cataloging each sound and noting it as a part of her bedtime ritual. He had paid particular attention when he'd heard her open the suitcase. He could just imagine her taking out a prim, full-length nightgown.
    Then he had listened with a sense of pleasant anticipation as she opened a closet door. She would be taking off the bright papaya colored shirt she had worn, unbuttoning it quickly and revealing the sweet curve of her breasts. The chill in the room probably caused her responsive nipples to tighten.
    Next had come the jeans. He had heard her step out of them and had drawn a mental image of her nicely rounded rear clad only in filmy panties. In a moment the panties had followed the jeans. He had heard the slight, unbalanced movement she'd made when she had caught hold of the closet door to steady herself while she pulled them off. Then she was naked. He had imagined the way the light brown triangle of curls at the apex of her legs would have gleamed in the dull light from the overhead fixture.
    The pleasant anticipation had given way to frustration as Croft had listened to Mercy climb into bed. His barely