Safe Harbor

by Christine Feehan

  He opened his mouth to argue with her some more, to persuade her that he was right and she should just be with him. Abruptly he closed it, swallowing the demand. He loved her and he needed to understand her. He wasn't the best at expressing himself, but he had to think of a way to say the right words for her.

  He was silent a moment, staring down at her face, the skin that was so flawless it begged to be felt, even with the wounds stretched across her cheek and chin. So what exactly did he want from her? He'd always wanted her to stand up for herself, to choose what she wanted to do, whom she wanted to be with--but what had he really been saying? He wanted her choice to be him, to stay home and have his children and be his best friend and lover.

  Jonas sighed. He was proud of her for being courageous enough to look at herself and want to find her own strength. And he loved her with everything in him, so that meant, if Hannah wanted and needed time, he'd give it to her. Besides, her admission left a lot of interesting loopholes for him to explore.

  He ran his finger from her eyebrow to the corner of her mouth. "So what you're saying is, you love me, there's no other man, but you don't think you could make love to me right now because you feel ugly. Am I getting this?"

  "It's certainly part of the problem." Her stomach began to settle. He wasn't angry with her, or hurt anymore, he was struggling to understand and that's all she could ask. "It's hard to feel desire when you don't feel desirable, Jonas."

  The pad of his finger slid over her mouth, rubbing back and forth along her full lower lip before sliding over the curve of her chin to shape her neck. His fingers curled, the palm resting lightly against her throat. "So you don't really want me physically right now, but you think that might come later, when you're feeling better about yourself?"

  His touch was electric, sending small currents leaping through her veins. She didn't feel desirable, but Jonas, up close and touching her so possessively, could still produce desire. How insane was that? She'd just been thinking how impossible it would be to take off her clothes and let him see the wounds again, but now, with his palm against her and the pads of his fingers caressing her skin seductively, her body was stirring to life.

  "I couldn't give you anything but chaos and emotion with me falling apart every few minutes, and you deserve better than that, Jonas." She ignored the wild yearning his voice, his hands and the look on his face produced.

  He tucked a spiral curl behind her ear, his hand sliding to the nape of her neck to hold her in place. "If you fall apart, I can be there for you."

  "That's not how I want us to be. I don't want you to have to pick up the pieces." Now she knew exactly what she did want to say. "I want to find out what I want."

  Jonas's gaze went dark and hot, dropping to her lips. Her stomach flipped. Searing heat spread through her lower body. "I don't mind helping you figure out what you want, Hannah. You can... talk... to me all you want."

  The blatant suggestion in his voice curled her toes in the sand. His palm cradled the nape of her neck, gentle and warm, yet effectively holding her in front of him. All of a sudden he was close. She knew he moved, shifted. She hadn't seen it, but suddenly he was there, his body a mere inch from hers. She could feel the heat from his body, the powerful muscles in his thighs and chest, yet they weren't touching other than his hand curled around the back of her neck. The whisper of his breath slid over her, into her. She felt them breathe together.

  "Jonas." She tried to put warning--censure--into her voice, but it was impossible, not when his eyes were so dark with hunger.

  He didn't bother to disguise it or wrap it up into something pretty for her. He let her see the stark need in him, the heavy bulge in the front of his jeans, the race of his pulse and the cocky, sexy smile as his hot gaze drifted over her face. She touched her tongue to her lower lip and instantly his attention was riveted there.

  "You aren't going to seduce me." She held up her hand in warning, torn between wanting to run, wanting to laugh and wanting to throw herself into his arms.

  "I'm not? You're certain about that?" His thumb slid over her pounding pulse.

  "You're distracting me, Jonas. I can't keep the fog hanging low if I'm distracted and I wanted to walk on the beach." There was desperation in her voice; she couldn't help it, she felt desperate. If he kissed her, she wasn't going to be strong. She would cave. She could already taste him in her mouth, wild and crazy and masculine. Jonas could make her come apart in his arms whether or not she felt beautiful and that wasn't the point. She wanted to come to him whole, not broken. She was so broken, and yet, she'd been given a second chance to do things right. More than anything, she wanted her relationship with Jonas to be right.

  He bent his head and brushed his lips gently across hers. "I'm going to love you, Hannah. Forever. For always. Sex is part of that so you can expect to handle a little seduction now and again. I have no doubt in my mind that I can make you feel beautiful. And I can make you want me. And I can make you scream my name and forget everything but pleasure. I may not be good at a lot of things, but I can give that to you."

  She cupped his face in her hand, her thumb sliding along his shadowed jaw. "I want that from you. Just give me a little time."

  His eyes searched hers, evidently saw what he needed, and he bent down to brush a butterfly-soft kiss across her lips before releasing her. "Whatever you need, baby, I'm your man." He began walking down the beach, a small, satisfied smile on his face.

  Hannah tucked her fingers into his back pocket and walked beside him, the crushing weight that seemed to be ever present in her chest easing. He was her man, and even though she wasn't stupid and knew he was saying much more than on the surface, Jonas was willing to wait for her to figure her life out and that meant everything.

  Gulls cried out and the water rushed toward shore, slamming into rocks to spray white droplets into the air. Water foamed and sizzled, leaving tiny holes in the sand as the waves retreated. They sauntered in companionable silence until Hannah glanced back at their footprints in the wet sand.

  "You have big feet, Jonas."

  He glanced down at her, straight faced. "I have big everything."

  She rolled her eyes and laughed, unable to help herself. It felt good to laugh. "I walked into that one, didn't I?"

  "Yep. So I've been thinking about this situation."

  "Oh, Lord, that's scary. What situation?"

  "Us. You and me. We're together, right? Solid. But basically we can't have sex unless I catch you off guard."

  He had to quit saying "sex" or even thinking about it. She detested her body. She sure didn't want him looking at it, but every single time his eyes slid over her with that possessive hungry look, each time he spoke in his low, I'm-ravenous-and-going-to-eat-you-for-dinner voice, she melted. If she melted any more, she'd be a puddle at his feet. He would never take her seriously and she absolutely needed time to figure things out.

  "You aren't going to catch me off guard, Jonas, so don't even go there. I might want to..." She trailed off, color rising.

  "Have sex. Make love," he supplied, amusement tingeing his voice.

  She scowled at him, although it was impossible to intimidate Jonas. "Yes. That. But in the end, I'd have to take my clothes off and I'd be self-conscious and it would be awful and you'd be frustrated and mad at me. So it's best just not to go there."

  His grin widened enough to make her breath hitch in her lungs. He didn't have to be so good looking or sexy. And he didn't have to have that look on his face, the one that said he was a predator about to pounce and gobble her up. "I can think of quite a few ways to make love without removing all your clothes. The more I think about it, the more erotic it is, you with a nice long skirt and no panties. Or panties I can rip off. No, let's say you don't have any on and I just happen to slide my hand over your sexy little ass. Just because you look good enough to eat."

  His hand cupped her body through the denim of her jeans, and made a leisurely slide as if searching for panty lines. Color crept
into her face and damp heat curled deep inside her.

  "No panty line. I'd say you were wearing a thong. Yeah, baby, that's sexy, but under this nice long mythical skirt, you aren't wearing anything but bare skin." His hand slid to her hips and then up her waist, under her blouse. His fingers skimmed gently, careful not to touch anywhere that could hurt. He cupped her breast, resting the weight in his palm. "And you wouldn't even be wearing this lacy little thing you call a bra. So when I bent my head like this..." His mouth closed over her breast right through her shirt, suckling gently through the material, his teeth tugging at her nipple, sending a flash fire sizzling through her body.

  Her eyes went opaque, glazed, her breath catching in her lungs. Jonas was careful to ignore his own needs, forcing his mind away from the almost painful hardness between his legs. Hannah was all that counted to him. She had to know she was a beautiful, desirable woman and had needs of her own. The knowing would be enough for both of them for now. He pulled back, breathed warm air over the small wet spot, teeth lingering for just a moment on her nipple before releasing her.

  "So when I bent my head like that, I could just shove the shirt, that lacy little peasant thing you wear that drives me crazy, right out of the way."

  She didn't know her lacy peasant blouse drove him crazy. His mouth and hands did it for her. She stayed quiet wanting more of his fantasy, knowing that she was skimming the line of danger with him, but wanting it to go on a little longer, before she had to go back and face reality. She ached for him and it made her feel alive. She might be hyperaware of the cuts on her face, throat and body, but Jonas managed to make her feel as if her face--her skin--was flawless when he looked at her.

  "I love that look on your face, dreamy and sexy and a little bit mischievous. I have no idea how you can look seductive and innocent at the same time."

  "I wish I could see myself through your eyes." He certainly made her feel beautiful, even if she couldn't see it for herself.

  He tugged at her hand and they began walking again, leaving prints side by side in the wet sand, stepping around kelp and several small jellyfish to round the cove where the tide pools were. The tide was in, so they skirted the rocks and stayed up on the beach, watching the waves crash against the barnacle-encrusted caves and boulders. Birds flapped their wings impatiently, waiting for the sun to break free of the fog before launching into the air for breakfast.

  "When I take you out, Hannah, wear that long flowing skirt that moves with every step you take. It's light blue with swirls of darker blue and goes with your lacy blouse."

  She couldn't help being pleased that he could describe one of her favorite outfits. "I wish you could risk taking me out. I feel like I'm locked up and someone's thrown away the key. And now that I know the danger is still present, I'm going to be sitting in my room forever."

  "You can't let this make you a prisoner. We just have to be a little inventive. We could go to my house tomorrow evening, or maybe the lighthouse. Inez has the keys."

  "How would Inez get the keys to the lighthouse? She runs the grocery store."

  "Inez has the keys to the entire town. How do I know how she got them? We could have a private picnic there, at the lighthouse. No one would know. It's easily defensible. And you don't have to pack your bags and run away."

  She was a little ashamed of that. Of course the house had protected them, she'd heard it for years growing up, but she'd never actually seen it. She'd even had a little doubt, but she wasn't going to admit it out loud. "You want to take me to the lighthouse on a picnic with people trying to kill me?"

  "It's that or sit in your room, and Hannah, another day or two and you're going to be climbing down the side of the house, trying to escape. We can sneak away. Your sisters can distract everyone and we'll slip out in the dark."

  She was touched that he'd suggested it. She was already going stir-crazy, but with the reporters, and now with the knowledge that whoever wanted her dead was somewhere close, directing assassins, leaving the protection of the house seemed terrifying. She didn't want to go anywhere alone.

  Jonas caught her around the waist and lifted her over a wide channel of cold water streaming across the sand toward the sea. She rested her hands on his shoulders, feeling the muscles bunch. It seemed so effortless for him to swing her over the distance. It was a little like flying, yet she was safely anchored. He set her on her feet and kept walking away from the house.

  "The fog bank isn't going to hold forever, Jonas," she reminded him.

  "No, but you and your sisters can handle a few photographers."

  She squared her shoulders. It was true. Why had she been so afraid? Jonas was so sure of her. He believed in her and it was difficult not to believe in herself when he had such absolute conviction. "So if I was wearing my blue skirt and peasant blouse, and we went to the lighthouse, what exactly would we do?"

  "I'd bring music so we could dance."

  She knew he was a wonderful dancer. It had been one of the things about him that set him apart in school. He had danced with the Drakes, learning every type of dance from ballroom to salsa, and it had made him a hit at every school dance. She loved to dance and Jonas knew it. Even as a child she'd floated around the house, pretending to be everything from a ballerina to a ballroom competition dancer. Jonas had even done the Lindy and jitterbug with her.

  "This picnic is starting to sound tempting."

  "Strawberry Italian soda," he bribed, knowing her weakness. "And French bread." Two of her favorite things.

  The lighthouse would be deserted and it would be easy enough for Jonas to get permission to go there. If they could really sneak away, it would be such a relief to have a few hours when she wasn't feeling trapped. And she loved being with Jonas. It was really that simple. She needed time to sort herself out, but she loved every moment in his company. "Do you think we could really get away with it?"

  There was hope in her voice. Jonas flashed her another cocky grin. "Tomorrow night I'll sneak you out," he promised.

  "Sarah will have a fit," Hannah warned.

  "No she won't. She knows you can't stay cooped up in the house and you can't go in public, so this is the next best thing. No one will think of looking for you there. You'll be safe, Sarah will approve, and I'll get to wonder whether or not you're wearing thong underwear or nothing at all."

  "You're awfully obsessed with my underwear," she teased.

  "Or lack of," he admitted. "I think about it more than I should."

  She glanced up at the honesty in his voice. How in the world could that simple admission make her hot all over? "Let me assure you, I almost always wear underwear." She had to clench her teeth together to keep from laughing at his expression.

  "Almost always? That's just wrong, Hannah. Now I'm never going to have a moment's peace around you."

  She looked smug. "I know."

  Jonas laughed, the sound deep and real, filled with amusement and making her heart soar. She did a small dance pattern in the sand, throwing out her arms, for a moment forgetting entirely she was disfigured and someone hated her enough to kill her. She glanced at the sky. "We could probably build a sand castle before the fog is gone."

  "We don't have any tools."

  "Tools?" She gave a sniff of disdain. "Amateur."

  "You did not just call me an amateur."

  "I did. You build your sand castle over there. You have twelve minutes. That's it and we have to go."

  He was already crouching down, digging for wetter sand. She was on her knees doing the same. A few minutes later, when Jonas glanced over at her, she was cheating, directing little wind flurries to etch out the castle walls. He opened his mouth to call her on it, but she looked so absorbed, a child playing, carefree and happy, and he wasn't about to interrupt even to tease her.

  Hannah dug her hands into the sand, absently guiding small bursts of wind to carve the castle. The sand felt good, earthy and grainy, the castle taking shape quickly. She formed a bridge over her moat by sending a spear
of wind blasting a tunnel through the sand. It burst out the other side, spraying Jonas hard enough to sting him.

  She covered her mouth, muffling her laughter when he whirled around so fast he lost his balance and fell into the wet sand which he'd been carefully avoiding. "Poor baby. And your sand castle looks a little anemic." She leaned over to push her finger into the sloping side where the sand kept caving in. "You have to pack it solid, Jonas."

  He caught her arms and tugged until she lost her balance and fell across him. He took both wet, sandy hands and rubbed them dry on her denim-clad butt, leaving smears all over her bottom. "You deserve that for cheating."

  "I didn't cheat."

  "You used the wind."

  "I can't help it if it likes me and not you." She stayed sprawled across him, lifting herself up to look down into his eyes. "You're a beautiful man, Jonas Harrington. You really are." She brushed the hair from where it spilled across his forehead.

  "I'm glad you think so, Miss Drake."

  "If I kiss you after all, will you think I've lost my mind?"

  "Kissing doesn't mean we're going to have sex, Hannah."

  "I know, but you've given me..." She broke off. Hope. The word shimmered in her mind and she sent it to his. Laughter. She bent to brush a kiss on his chin. My life back. She kissed the corner of his mouth, rubbed her lips over his. I felt broken, Jonas, and you make me feel whole.

  She settled her lips over his, sliding her tongue shyly along the seam of his mouth, uncaring that he was seeing her face in the early dawn. She needed to kiss him, to find a way to show him she loved him. Because she did. Bone deep. Her entire heart. Even her soul. She poured her love into her kiss, opening her mind a little, wanting him to feel what he meant to her. Wanting him to know what he did for her. She could face her future. And she could be strong even when she felt as if she wanted to crawl into a hole.

  "You gave me that," she murmured against his mouth. "Thank you."

  He reached up to cradle her head, holding her to him. "I love you, Hannah. Whatever you need, I'll be it for you."

  She smiled into his eyes. "So the whole bossy thing was just an act?"

  "Of course, to impress you. And it worked." He lifted his head to cover the few inches separating them and captured her lower lip with his teeth, tugging gently. "Kiss me again."