Free Texas Wildcat by Lindsay McKenna Page B

going, time would be at a premium. A cold feeling crept up his spine and Sam automatically placed his left arm around Kelly. He sensed trouble. He remembered his tours in Nam and that same cold feeling snaking up his back to warn him of forthcoming danger. He glanced down at Kelly’s blissful features. There was danger. Someone could be killed. Dear God, don’t let it be Kelly. Give us a chance to know one another. Don’t tear away this chance…please…But the strange, fluttering sensation in his chest wouldn’t be stilled.

Six
    T he bloody sunrise rose silently across the Rub al Khali Desert. Kelly stood watching the sun, transfixed by the crimson color that heralded dawn. She stood next to the fourth member of the team, Pat Crossley, an H2S expert and diesel mechanic. They had all seen the blowout almost two hundred miles in advance of landing. The orange and red flames roared four hundred feet into the air.
    The cargo plane had landed on a hard dirt strip near some Bedouin tents. As the plane landed, it sent the herds of goats, sheep and camels scattering like leaves before the wind. They stepped out of the plane to a scene where pandemonium reigned.
    Special flatbeds arrived and the huge skids in the plane were transferred to the trucks. Kelly watched as the Blanchard piperack skids were placed on a second truck. The extra pipe brought from another company remained on the ground. She walked over to where Boots was talking with someone dressed in a long, white woolen robe, inwardly wondering how anyone could stand the heat dressed like that. Even at six a.m., Kelly could feel sweat trickling down between her breasts and soaking into her lacy bra. She came to a halt, waiting for Boots to finish. Curiosity got the better of her and she stole a look up at the tall, swarthy Bedouin. Shock went through her as his black eyes bored into hers. She quickly lowered her gaze and stepped behind Boots.
    “Look,” Boots said in an exasperated tone, “you tell Sheik Hassad to get the crew of that gas rig back on site. We’re gonna need some manpower. You understand? Also, we need bulldozers. At least three of them. And two backhoes. We radioed ahead. He said they’d be here.”
    The Arab shifted his piercing gaze from Kelly back to Boots. “Yes, yes. My master has followed your instructions. Everything is in readiness at the well. Come, come, we must hurry.”
    Boots nodded. “Give the keys of the trucks to our men. We’ll drive.”
    “Yes, yes. Of course.” The man bowed, took another keen look at Kelly and then turned, shouting a flurry of orders to his contingent of men.
    Boots turned to her. “You ride with Sam. He told you about being Coots’s daughter?”
    “Yes. Boots, what about that other pipe? Aren’t you taking it along?”
    “Love to, honey, but we ain’t got the room. We’ll send a truck back for it.” He put an arm around her waist. “Now come on. We got a show to get on the road. Sam’s driving that piperack truck. Go keep him company.”
    It was strange and hostile environment. Kelly said little as she rode with Sam, keeping her eyes and ears open. There was hardly a road to be followed as they drove through the torturous heat. The sheik’s emissary led the way in a battered olive green jeep. Kelly glanced over at Sam. “The head honcho of the Arab contingent almost looks like he’s a predatory bird ready to take off with his robes flying around him.”
    Sam mustered a tired smile. When it had come his turn to sleep he had found it damn near impossible. Lying on her long, beautifully shaped thighs, he had been unable to sleep for a long while. He could feel the yielding softness of her legs beneath him. He had yearned to turn on his shoulder, wrap his arms around her waist and bury his head in the soft warmth of her body.
    Kelly had awakened him an hour before landing. A soft, almost maternal smile had touched her lips as he looked up at her. It would have been so easy to reach up and kiss