Solitaire. Lindsay McKenna

weighed down by a ceiling ready to collapse on anyone stupid enough to go in there.”

      Graham colored fiercely. “What does a geologist know about engineering matters?” he challenged.

      “A damn good geologist, Graham.” Slade glanced over his shoulder toward Cat. “I know emerald mines, Graham, and you have no business sending anyone down in that shaft.”

      Cat moved forward, her anger finally at the boiling point. She didn’t have time to stand there listening to these two. “Mr. Donovan, your opinion is not wanted or needed. That’s why I’m here. I troubleshoot bad mines for a living. Do you?”

      Struggling to contain his temper, Slade asked, “Ever hear of taking a bath, Ms. Kincaid?” Although not a common practice, some unscrupulous mine owners would put very little money into a supposedly rich gem site, then declare it a catastrophic business loss to collect a healthy tax return. Well, the Emerald Lady was a lost cause and both Slade and Graham knew it. The only one who didn’t was Cat Kincaid, and he wasn’t going to let her find out the hard way if he had anything to say about it.

      “I fail to see what that has to do with this situation, Mr.–”

      “My friends call me Slade. And the Emerald Lady is nothing more than a nice, juicy business loss just waiting to be picked up by Graham.”

      Graham flushed scarlet. “You’ve gone too far this time, Donovan,” he sputtered. “Unless you’re suddenly working with the U.S. Mine Safety–”

      Slade turned conspiratorially to Cat for a moment. “That’s who ought to be called in to handle this situation. Tunnel B is just begging to fall. But then, Graham–” he turned to the red-faced man “–you wouldn’t stand to get as much of a tax loss if you didn’t have someone of Ms. Kincaid’s stature sign on the bottom line, stating that your mine is not only inoperable, but a disaster of the first degree.”

      “Look, Donovan, you’ve no right,” began a riled Graham.

      Slade, ignoring him, swung his attention back to Cat. “You’ve been a mining engineer for over ten years. And there isn’t anyone in our business who doesn’t respect or admire your work in constructing mines under almost impossible circumstances.” Slade jabbed a finger toward the Emerald Lady mine. “But your life and your knowledge, not to mention your neck, aren’t worth risking for that pit. I’m telling you, that shaft is deadly. Don’t go in there. Let Graham get the U.S. mining officials to do it instead.”

      Cat was momentarily swayed by the fervor of his request; Donovan’s deep Texas accent flowed through her like a cool breeze on a hot jungle night. Then she blinked, realizing that he had literally spun her into his web with his husky, coaxing voice. Irritated that she had let him affect her at all, she said, “Mr. Donovan, I think Mr. Graham and I can handle this. In case you forgot, mine inspection is part of being a mining engineer.”

      Graham pulled out a white silk handkerchief and mopped his perspiring brow. “It most certainly is! Ms. Kincaid’s specialty is troublesome mines; that’s why I called her. And I resent your inference, Donovan, that I’m doing this for a business loss. Nothing could be further from my mind. The Emerald Lady is the best, and we’ll hire only the best if we get into trouble.”

      Slade snorted. Graham was lying through his perfectly capped teeth. Slade wondered briefly why Cat couldn’t see through Graham’s ploy. Who had raised her to never question another person’s motives?

      “Please–” he opened both his callused hands out toward Cat in a final, pleading gesture “–don’t go in there. There was a heavy rain here last night. Give the mine another day to settle down. Water’s leaking like a sieve in there, and in the crosscut. The supporting timbers are rotted. A day. Just one.”

      There simply wasn’t enough time for this, and Cat stepped up to Donovan, her jaw set. “My schedule doesn’t permit the luxury of an extra day. I intend to inspect this mine right now, Mr. Donovan. I don’t have time to stand here and discuss this issue. By this afternoon–” she looked at the gold Rolex watch on her darkly tanned left wrist “–at 2:00 p.m., to be precise, I have a flight back to New York City. I have to be in Australia by tomorrow evening.”

      Rain began falling at a steady clip, spreading a gray pall over the heavily forested area that surrounded the mine. Slade interpreted this as a warning. Cat merely regarded it as an inconvenience.

      She picked up her white miner’s hard hat, which had accumulated scratches and dents from many years of use. Each depression was from a rock large enough to have injured her. Cat tested the light strapped to the front of the hat before settling it on her sable-colored hair. Then she plugged the jack into a battery pack that she carried on a web belt around her waist. As she finished her preparations, Cat tried to ignore Donovan, whose tightly throttled energy had the room in a state of electric tension.

      “Donovan,” Graham began, “I don’t care who you think you are. You’re trespassing on private property.” He glanced around. “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the sheriff on my car telephone and have you booted out of here on your–”

      “Save your threats, Graham. I’m staying until Ms. Kincaid is safely out of that mine.” His blue eyes narrowed on Graham’s porcine face. “And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it unless you think you’re big enough to throw me out of here.”

      Cat shook her head and picked up a safety lamp. Lighting the regulation-size lantern, she watched with satisfaction as the yellow flame grew. She straightened up.

      “You going in with her, Graham?” Slade prodded savagely.

      “Of course not. She’s the mining expert.”

      Slade’s mouth twisted into a lethal line. “You wouldn’t be caught dead in there because you know just how unsafe that pit is.”

      Cat opened the door and nailed both men with a look of authority. “You two can stay here and argue about the mine’s merits, but I’m going into it.” She looked directly at Slade. “And don’t follow me in. Understand?”

      He grimaced and nodded. “Whatever you say, lady.” Then his icy composure gave way to concern. “But I’d like to see you come back in one piece.”

      Cat tilted her head, a question in her eyes. What had the scuttlebutt been about the man named Slade Donovan? Later, after the mine inspection was over, she’d search her memory. The name sounded familiar, but was he tied to good news or bad? Judging from his bull-in-the-china-shop tactics, it probably wasn’t very good.

      “I’ll be out in about an hour, Mr. Graham, unless I find something, then it will take a bit longer.”

      “Fine, fine. Take your time. I’ll be waiting.”

      Slade took a step toward her. “Get in and then get the hell out. Any miner with an ounce of brains could tell twenty minutes after entering it that the mine’s broken.”

      Cat gave him a cool look, then pulled the miner’s hat brim a little lower across her eyes. “In about an hour, Mr. Graham…”

      Helplessly Slade watched her leave and move out into the downpour. The lightweight pale blue canvas jacket she wore darkened immediately with splotches of rain. Muttering a curse, Slade elbowed past Graham. Cat was halfway across the empty, muddy expanse, heading toward the yawning dark hole of the mine shaft, when Slade caught up with her.

      “Ms. Kincaid–Cat–here, take this with you.” He thrust a portable radio into her hand. “It’s waterproof,” he quickly explained. The rain slashed across his face, and his hair darkened as it became plastered against his skull. “Just in case, okay? Don’t give me that look, either. This is a safety measure. There’s no one here to help you in case something does go wrong.” He drew to a halt just inside the shaft. Slade gave her a pleading look, knowing he couldn’t intimidate or push Cat into doing what he wanted. He’d heard she had a mind of her own and now he had to deal with that.

      Cat stuffed the radio inside her jacket to protect it.