Bound to Happen

by Mary Kay McComas

  His words slowed and softened, and the passion began to consume the ferociousness in his gaze as he cast it wondrously over her face. Without warning, he lowered his head and his lips covered her mouth. His tongue was unyielding as it drove between her teeth and took possession of her senses. Joe’s kiss was long and fiery and heartfelt. It shook the mountain and made Leslie tremble with its power and depth. Her world began to reel out of focus, and her hands automatically reached out to Joe for support. Joe winced and sucked in a sharp breath.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked through the haze of her jumbled emotions.

  “Nothing. Kiss me again,” he murmured, his lips moving against hers, hardly losing contact as he spoke. “Forgive me and kiss me again.”

  “Oh, Joe.” She sighed, her spirits soaring. Her hand passed along his shoulder, enjoying the feel of the power he possessed. Then suddenly her fingertips encountered a warm stickiness, and she instinctively pulled them away. A soft cry of shock escaped her as she stared at her fingers in horror. “You’re bleeding,” she said with a gasp.

  “I’ll live. Kiss me.”

  “What happened? Why? My God, Joe, your shirt is covered with blood.”

  “You shot me. Kiss me, and I’ll forgive you.”

  “But—” He silenced her with his mouth.

  “No, Joe. You’ll bleed to death,” she said, pushing him away, trying to calm the sick terror that beset her as she began to unbutton his shirt. “I can’t believe I did this. I finally fall in love with somebody, and then I shoot him. I need to get into therapy.”

  “Relax. It’s a flesh wound, a scratch. I’m going to die a much worse death if you don’t kiss me again. … What did you just say?” he asked, his grasp stilling her hands, his demanding look dispelling some of the confusion and agitation in her mind with its insistence.

  Leslie hesitated. “When?”

  “Just now.”

  Mentally she had to rewind her recording of the past few minutes. When it came back loud and clear that she’d actually said, out loud, that she loved him, it was almost as big a shock to her as it was to him. Well, maybe not quite as big, she decided. Hadn’t she felt all along that there was something special about him, about him and her together. There was most surely a devastating attraction between them, but there was more. She’d never cared what someone else thought of her, not enough to want to please him. She’d never really wanted to make anyone but herself happy. But she wanted Joe to be happy. With or without her, she wanted him to be happy. She wanted to know him in every sense, wanted to please him in any way she could, wanted to be with him indoors or out, in the city or on the mountainside. There was a sense of rightness about her feelings. Joe was the man she’d waited all her life for. She had no proof, no facts, no specific reasons, she just knew it to be true.

  With all the confidence of a woman who knew what she was doing, Leslie looked into Joe’s deep green eyes and whispered, “I said I love you.”

  A slow gentle smile crossed his lips while he sat looking at her as if she were a miracle worker.

  She gave him a quick, self-conscious peck on the mouth as she rose up on her knees to peel away his shirt. She felt his hands working the buttons along the front of her own shirt and tried to ignore him as she pulled his T-shirt away from his wound. “I’m so sorry,” she said anxiously, slipping her fingers into the tear in the cotton and making it larger. “I didn’t mean to shoot you. I thought you were an animal.”

  “I feel like an animal,” Joe said as he removed the flannel shirt from over her arms. “I want you so much, Leslie. I need you so badly.”

  Leslie pulled on the material of his T-shirt until it began to tear. Through her own T-shirt, she felt Joe’s mouth cover the tip her breast and begin to suck. A weakening wave of ecstasy rolled over her, again and again, until she was hard put to keep from falling limply over his shoulder. “Oh, please,” she said, moaning. “Let me finish this. I think it’s stopped bleeding, but you really ought to have something over it to protect it.”

  Joe stopped only long enough to remove her T-shirt, while she ripped his in half and off his body. He was cupping her breasts and pulling her closer before she could find a clean corner of the cloth with which to bandage his wound. Feebly she pressed the shirt to his shoulder and was vaguely relieved to see that he had, indeed, stopped bleeding. Joe’s lips moved lower, teasing and calculating. His fingers played with the buttons on her jeans until he could slide them down over her hips. Leslie slipped her fingers into his thick dark hair and pressed him closer to her as he laved her navel with his tongue. With her other hand, she fought valiantly to keep the dressing in place on his shoulder, while she tried not to lean too heavily on it for balance. His hands gripped her waist as he moved lower and lower to wreak havoc on her senses.

  Intuitively her body seemed to know what to do. It moved closer to Joe, knowing he’d protect her and keep her safe in her mindlessness. Her heart matched its rhythm to his, and they shared their life’s breaths as they fell together into a parallel world, where only ungovernable desire and delight existed and profound pleasure reigned supreme.

  Leslie’s hand roamed slowly over the rolling knolls and valleys across Joe’s chest, and she traced the trail of coarse, dark hair all the way to its end. Joe’s soft groan rumbled in her ear as it lay pressed against his chest. His arms tightened around her naked body, and he rolled toward her, out of the path of her nomadic fingers.

  He came up on one elbow and looked down into her face. She’d never seen an expression quite like his now. He looked almost boyish, full of happiness and hope and contentment. She recognized the emotions easily, as they reflected her own like a mirror.

  She shivered briefly when he lifted the covers away and revealed her body to the glowing firelight. She was warmed again as his gaze caressed and cherished every visible inch of her. Wrapping the blanket around her, shielding her from the cool night air once more, he let his hand slide from her neck to her belly in a most proprietary way. “This body was made for loving. So soft and responsive,” he uttered as if in awe.

  “Joe,” she said, urgently needing to make everything between them as perfect as their lovemaking had been. “I did read your books. All of them. I smuggled them out every afternoon and read them cover to cover.”

  Joe frowned and gave an amazed little chuckle. “Why’d you feel you had to sneak around to read them? I wanted you to read them. I wanted your opinion on them.”

  “That’s just it. I couldn’t give you an opinion, aside from the fact that I thought you wrote wonderfully. I knew nothing about the things you wrote about. I mean, not enough to have an opinion on them anyway. You were right this morning. I’ve had my head buried in the sand, in my own little world for so long, I had no idea of what was going on around me. I was ashamed to let you know or even have you guess at the truth. I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

  “Humph. I’m surprised you cared what I thought at all. I’ve been such an ass to you. And it doesn’t matter that you and I don’t have the same interests—”

  “But that’s not the point, Joe. It wasn’t just your respect I was afraid of losing. I had to get some of my own back. I always thought I was so smart, that I had everything figured out and under control. And all along I was standing knee deep in confusion and chaos. I was just too stupid and selfish to open my eyes and see it. I can’t tell you how awful it is to wake up one morning and discover you have no life, that nothing you’ve been doing means anything.”

  “But Leslie, honey, that’s not what’s important. What is important is that you did wake up. Some people never do.”

  She thought over what he’d said in silence, aware of the solidness of his hand on her stomach and of the words he spoke. He might speak gruffly and show a hard exterior, but inside he was stable and understanding, caring and gentle and giving. “You know,” she said, tracing his cheekbone with the tip of her finger, “I like you very much when you act like this. In some way
s you remind me very much of Max Darkwood.”

  Joe laughed. “You really have a thing for him, don’t you?”

  “Well, it’s not as big as the thing I have for you, but he certainly finishes a close second place. He’s sweet and gentle and tender. He’s honest and loving and faithful. Max is someone you know you can trust.”

  “Yes, but can Max kiss you like this … ? Or touch you here … or here … or make you feel that? No? What about this?” Joe proceeded to stir her emotions and drive her senses wild with a need only he could satisfy. “If you were to ask me,” he murmured against her throat, “I’d have to say you made the best choice. Max could never love you like I do.”

  Long after dawn had pledged itself to the day, Leslie and Joe lay under the warming rays of the sun, oblivious to their nakedness—except when it suited their whims. Then it was very handy. For hours they did nothing but lie in each other’s arms and talk. Sometimes their chatter was nonsensical, but more often than not, it was autobiographical as they tried to encapsulate their lifetimes into small doses for the other to ingest. They felt an urgency to know all there was to know about the other, to share secrets and dreams, to bond deeply and irrevocably.

  All the while, Joe didn’t seem able to keep his hands off her. Always touching, always stroking, his hands were reverent and indulgent. Leslie had never felt so cherished or adored. He was as free and familiar with her body as he was with his own. Deprived of such closeness in the past, and not realizing it until now, she soaked it up thirstily like a dry sponge, wanting more.

  Leslie leaned over Joe and kissed him softly, simply because she wanted to. “Do you suppose we should get going? Or shall we sleep here again tonight?”

  “Did we sleep here last night?” Joe asked with a yawn. “I don’t remember sleeping.”

  Leslie laughed at her own recollections of the previous night. “Let me rephrase that. Can you afford any more time away from your work?”

  Throwing his arms around her and rolling over on top of her, Joe looked down at Leslie with regret in his eyes. “No, I can’t. But I’d much rather stay here with you. Although,” he said, his mood lightening, “there’s a lot to be said for beds and food and some of the other comforts back at the cabin.” He pulled a dry leaf from Leslie’s tangle of dark hair and grinned at her.

  “Does your shoulder hurt much?”

  “No. I’ve been too distracted to pay much attention to it.”

  From overhead, came a high-pitched screech that resounded for miles over the valleys and mountain-tops. The sky was a clear, true blue, empty, but for a lone bird that stretched and soared across the vast openness as if it were lord paramount over all other living creatures.

  “I guess we’ll have to go now. Archibald has found us,” Joe said, leaning back on his arms to watch the bird circling above them, climbing higher and higher with every rotation. “And he doesn’t look happy to see us.”

  “Archibald?”

  “Leslie, honey, you are looking at one of your national birds. That is a bald eagle, hence, his name. He and his wife have taken to nesting in the vicinity. We met last year.”

  The bird seemed huge, even from a distance. She couldn’t see his white head, but she could make out white tail feathers. Either way, she had to take the identification on faith, because she wouldn’t know a bald eagle unless it had a nameplate attached to it. Whatever the species, there was something definitely thrilling about seeing him, she decided as she watched the bird glide through the sky. At one point Leslie felt the bird ought to flap his wings to keep up his speed, but he didn’t. She found herself holding her breath as he continued to float on the air without effort.

  “Isn’t he wonderful?” she whispered.

  “Mm.” Joe, too, had his gaze fixed on the eagle. “I was really glad to see him again this year. They don’t always come back to nest in the same place every year, and they almost never build their nests this low. They like the higher altitudes. Last year the ranger said there wasn’t another pair of them for two or three hundred miles.”

  They watched in silence until the bird gracefully flew out of sight. It was like the finale to a wondrous and magical episode in their lives, a signal that it was time to pack up and go back to reality.

  “Tell you what,” Joe said, as he tucked in his shirt and kicked Leslie’s other moccasin closer so she could reach it. “I’m nearly finished with this report I’ve been working on. I’ll take a day off, and we’ll go up and check out the eagle’s nest, see how many babies they had this year. Last year there were two. I’ve been hoping the little ones would fly in to see their folks this summer, but I haven’t seen them.”

  “I’d like that … I think.” She cast him a dubious glance. The mountains were growing on her, there was no doubt about that. But she’d never be the gung ho, outdoorsy type. Nature wasn’t in her nature. She was about to explain this to Joe, when something else he’d said triggered a response in her mind. “I thought you were working on another book. What’s this about a report?”

  “Actually that’s what I wanted you to think, so you’d leave me alone. But the truth is, I’m working on a labor of love, and I won’t get a penny for it. Although there is a thread of a chance it may save my cabin.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s a development company in Denver that’s planning on putting a ski run through my cabin. Since I lease it from the state, there’s not a whole lot I can do about it alone. But I’ve joined forces with an environmental group. They want to save the inner Rockies as wilderness land and keep the ski resorts and campgrounds limited to the outer, lateral mountains.”

  “How does it look? Can they make that happen?” Leslie asked, hoping desperately that the sinking feeling in her stomach and the salty, nauseated feeling of knowing the truth could somehow be changed by Joe’s inside knowledge.

  Joe shook his head and something pierced her heart. The pain and guilt and hopelessness were more than she could bear. She opened her mouth to tell Joe the truth of what she’d done, but he was already speaking again. “I think it’s been pretty much decided. All the reports and environmental impact studies are done, and the permits are granted by the state long before the development company actually takes over and puts money into a project. But this group has been protesting all along, so they’ve been granted an appeals interview with a review officer of the forest service. They’re hoping they can come up with enough support or adequate evidence to get the whole decision thrown into the district court. Then, depending on the judge, there might be a chance.”

  “How does it look though? Do you think they can do it?” she asked anxiously.

  “Wilderness doesn’t bring in a lot of revenue for the state, Les. The group needs a miracle.”

  “Your report?”

  “No. It’s not going to make much difference, I just don’t know how else to help. We’ll send it to other naturalist groups around the country and deliver it to the review officer, but it’s not going to make or break our case. You ready? Got everything?” Leslie nodded, in too much turmoil to speak. “Ah, don’t look so down in the mouth, sweetheart. I know hiking isn’t your favorite pastime, but you didn’t really get all that far from the cabin. Two, three miles, tops.”

  Leslie frowned. “Are you joking? I walked all day yesterday and only went three miles?”

  Nine

  “AH.” LESLIE MOANED in ecstasy. “A little lower. Oh. yes. Right there.”

  “Here?” Joe asked as he leaned over Leslie’s shoulder and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

  The fire flared and crackled noisily. Its golden light glowed warmly over Leslie’s skin and danced in her ebony hair. Joe’s bare chest was cast into angular shadows that seemed to move and change shape as he used his strength to ease Leslie’s aching need. She turned her head to the light, and Joe smiled at the euphoric expression that had relaxed her tense features of moments ago. “Feel good?” he asked in a low, soothing voice.

 
; “Mm.”

  “Want me to stop?”

  “No,” she murmured, barely conscious. “But if you’re getting tired, you can.”

  Joe laughed. “Listen, this beats chopping wood all to pieces. I just thought you might want to move this back rub over to the bed. You’re getting pruney, and the water’s not even warm anymore,” he said, shaking Leslie’s tepid bath water from his hands and reaching for her towel.

  “And you have to get back to work,” she added for him, since he wasn’t likely to say it. Joe was so different, she mused dreamily. In the past few days he seemed to have undergone a metamorphosis from the crabby, temperamental writer, to a gentle, considerate lover, whose uppermost thoughts were focused on her alone. Even his writing seemed to take a backseat to her needs and desires.

  At first it had been a heady experience. She’d never held so much power over another human before. Nor had anyone ever had such an effect on her. She loved Joe. She loved him better the more she knew him. She loved him more with each passing day. And with each day she learned that her power over him wasn’t something she wanted to abuse. The fact that he would spend his time with her doing whatever she wanted to do instead of locking himself up in the cabin to write wasn’t what she wanted. Well, she loved it actually, but not at the expense of his first love, his writing. She was careful to keep to the routine he’d set up when they first arrived at the cabin so he could work. She did this unselfishly and without resentment because she loved him and because his mountain needed him more than she did at the moment. “I think I will get out now. I feel much better.”

  “You didn’t have to do all the laundry today. You could have done it in stages. Jeans today, what few T-shirts I have left tomorrow, whatever’s not done the day after that. Then again, you’re not exactly a halfway person, are you? It’s all or nothing, right?”

  “I’m afraid so. And believe me, this isn’t the first time I’ve been punished for being that way.” She stood stiffly and let Joe wrap her tightly in a soft yellow towel, held securely in place by his loving arms.