by Lisa Jackson
She felt a sudden sense of trepidation as she looked around the room. Something wasn’t right; she could feel it in the very marrow of her bones.
Flames began to crackle against desert-dry kindling and the moss popped as it was consumed by the hungry fire.
Trent straightened, rubbing the small of his back, then stretching. Nikki’s heart turned over at the sight of a slice of his skin just above the waistband of his low-slung jeans, visible as his hands reached toward the ceiling. She noticed the smooth muscles of his back and the cleft of his spine. “It’s been a long day,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it carelessly on the foot of the bed. “We should turn in.”
The room felt suddenly close and she could barely breathe. She’d slept with him while they stayed in the hotel on Salvaje, but she’d salved her guilty conscience with the knowledge that she’d had no choice. She’d made love to him hungrily because she was a willing prisoner and the rest of her life had seemed so far away and remote.
But now they were back home. Or in a place he claimed belonged to him, and the prospect of falling into bed with him was suddenly terrifying. Now the choice was hers. Or, at least, it should have been. An American woman on American soil in her own hometown. He wasn’t tying her to the bed, nor did he have to drag her here. True, he’d used his considerable powers of persuasion, but she had enough of her mind left to be able to say no if she’d really wanted to.
Truth to tell, she wanted to be with him. Here. Alone. As dangerous as he sometimes seemed, she couldn’t stop wanting him. Maybe he hadn’t lied. Maybe his story about the two of them held some water. The hot part was right. He yanked off his shirt, and Nikki watched as the firelight played upon tight, dense muscles sprayed with coarse chest hair.
He lifted a brow in her direction. “You want to take a bath or something?”
“You said you’d give me answers.”
“That I did.” He walked slowly to her, took the suitcase from her hand and dropped it onto the floor. With his gaze fastened to hers, he shoved her jacket over her shoulders and it dropped in a denim pool at her feet. “I just thought we should take care of a few more important things first.”
“You’re stalling,” she said, but her voice was breathless, and she couldn’t break the magnetic pull of his gaze as he searched her face.
He kissed her, his mouth molding over hers hungrily. Nikki closed her eyes and kissed him back, feeling the rough texture of his chest hair through her blouse, her fingers digging into the sinewy muscles of his shoulders.
“Nikki, oh, Nikki,” he whispered roughly. Her mind spun backward to another time when she was kissing another man, a man whom she thought she loved. But his kisses held none of the passion of this man’s, and she’d never felt the wild abandon that this man created deep in her soul. Yet they were confused in her mind, the then and now, the here and before. Trent or Dave? Her husband or fiancé? She couldn’t think and she tried to regain her disappearing equilibrium. “Dave?” she whispered as his lips traveled down her neck and touched the sensitive skin below her jaw.
He froze. His hands dropped. Stumbling backward, Nikki almost fell on the bed. She was dazed, her body still anxious and wanting.
His face was a mask of fury. “What did you call me?”
“Oh, God,” she said, her fingers trembling as she grabbed a clump of long hair and held it at the base of her skull. What had she been thinking? “I called you Dave,” she admitted, seeing a streak of pain slash through his eyes. “I…I was confused.”
He snorted and crossed his arms over the expanse of his chest. “You thought I was Neumann.”
“No—not really,” she said, shaking. Oh, Lord, why was she so rattled?
“But you called me—”
“I know. It’s just that I remembered,” she said, shaking her head as if to clear away the horrid cobwebs that kept wisping through her mind and distorting the past.
“Remembered what?”
“Kissing Dave.”
“Great,” he said, flinty anger sparking in his eyes. “Well, how do I compare?”
“Compare… No, I didn’t mean to—”
“Just what the hell did you mean?” he demanded through lips that barely moved. Brow furrowed, deep lines cleaving his forehead, he raked a gaze down her front.
“You could be happy for me!” she countered, her temper flaring, her chin thrusting forward rebelliously.
“Happy!”
“This is a breakthrough.”
“Wonderful.” He snorted in derision. “And if we make love, are you going to pretend that I’m Neumann? And am I supposed to applaud?”
“You can do whatever you damned well want!”
“But it might just happen, right? You confusing the two of us?”
“Right. It’s a chance we’ll both have to take,” she said, her breasts rising and falling with each uneven, furious breath she drew. Where did he get off, turning this around so that she felt like some cheap tramp? “Maybe you should take me home.”
“This is home.”
“Prove it,” she threw out, angling her head up at him, letting her hair fall down one shoulder. “Show me the marriage certificate!”
The air between them grew still. Aside from the sizzle of the fire and the soft tattoo of rain against the window, there was no noise. Nikki knew she’d thrown her trump card on the table, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t move one solitary damn muscle.
“I don’t have it,” he said, his eyes moving to her lips. She tried not to notice, shifted her gaze downward, to the wide expanse of his chest, then lowered it still farther to rest on the huge silver buckle of his belt. Her throat tightened. This wasn’t working.
“Where is it?” she asked, forcing her eyes upward to meet the smoky hue of his stare again.
“At my office.”
“What?”
“Downtown. We left it there on our way to the airport.” He stepped a little closer to her, close enough that she fought the urge to retreat. There was nowhere to run. Her calves were already pressed against the footboard of the bed.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He reached for her and she swatted his hand away. “You haven’t believed me from the start.”
“It matters. Big-time.”
“We’ll pick up the damned certificate.” He reached forward again, one finger hooking on the V of her blouse. This time she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t.
“When?” she asked, hoping she wouldn’t stammer, but hardly able to focus on the conversation. The tip of his finger brushed the flesh over her sternum and caused her blood to tingle and heat.
“Tomorrow. You’ll want to go into the Observer. We’ll stop by my office then.”
Dear God, if only she could think clearly, but his touch was driving her wild. Standing close enough to feel his breath against her skin, she shivered as he slowly, and oh, so deliberately began working at the buttons of her blouse, his fingers prodding each tiny button free of its bond.
With all her willpower, she grabbed his wrist. “You’re changing the subject.”
“There is no subject.” Leaning forward he kissed the shell of her ear and she melted inside.
“You—you could be lying to me.”
“I could be.” He nibbled at her neck. The blouse parted and he slid his hands around her. His fingers were warm and familiar against her skin as he pulled her closer.
“I need to know that you’re telling the truth,” she protested, though her mind was already spinning. “Please…”
“Later.”
“Trent, please—” He cut off her pleas with his lips, hot and hard and wanting as they claimed hers. He groaned into her mouth and his tongue sought entrance past the barrier of her teeth.
“Come on, Nikki,” he murmured, “let yourself go.”
“I can’t—”
“Of course you can. You’re as hot and wild as that island we just left.”
She sighe
d, and his tongue slid quickly into the wet interior of her mouth. Her knees threatened to buckle and a growing heat spread outward from her center and through her limbs. Her arms encircled his neck and his fingers scaled her ribs to cup her breasts.
Electricity shot through her bloodstream as he slid the blouse off her shoulders and kissed the swollen mounds above the lace of her bra. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered, his lips wet and hot against her skin.
Lolling her head back, she gave him a full view of her neck. He nibbled and licked her flesh before returning to her breasts, which were now much too tight for her bra. With little encouragement, one rosy-tipped globe spilled free of the lavender lace and he eagerly swept the nipple into his mouth.
Nikki mewed deep in her throat as he tugged and suckled, laving the anxious point until she pressed her hips easily against him. “That’s it, love, let go….” His fingers caught in the silky, honey-colored strands of her hair. His body weight pushed her gently and together they tumbled onto the cool quilt. Trent’s mouth found hers again, his tongue probing, his hands moving to the small of her back to knead the soft flesh.
Nikki’s thoughts were tangled, her emotions tied up in distant memories that teased the surface of her mind only to disappear again. But she wanted this man. Lust streamed through her bloodstream. She lowered her head and ran her tongue across his jaw and neck. Air whistled through his teeth as he sucked in his abdomen and she moved lower, enjoying the power of her body, watching in fascination as his flat nipples tightened at her touch. She took one tiny button into her mouth and he groaned, his fingers working anxiously in her hair.
“You’re dangerous,” he growled.
“So are you.”
He tasted salty and male as he slipped her bra off her shoulders and pressed his lips to the hollow of her collarbone. “You make me do things I should never even think about,” he said, his voice rough with emotion as he kissed her again. His fingers moved to her breasts and his thumbs grazed her nipples.
Thrusting her hips to meet his, Nikki was lost, her doubts all fleeing into the dark night. Her fingers dug into the rippling muscles of his back and she closed her mind to all the doubts and fears. She wanted this man, perhaps loved him, needed him as she was certain she’d needed no other. His touch set her ablaze and the drumming passion in her bloodstream refused to be denied.
Ignoring the future as her mind blacked out her past, she lived for the moment, for the hot-ice touch of his lips that burned against her skin and surrounded her heart.
She felt her jeans slide over her hips at his insistent tugging, blinked her eyes open long enough to see him kick off his faded Levi’s as well.
“Tell me you want this,” he whispered hoarsely.
“I want you.”
Bracing himself on one hand, he palmed her breast, making the nipple stand erect again. “Tell me again.”
“I…I want to make love to you,” she whispered as he lowered his head and his lips surrounded her puckering nipple. “Ohhh.”
“That’s right.” His breath was warm and teasing against the wet little bud, stoking the hungry fire within her. Again she arched up, her naked hips touching his. He held her for a moment, one hand cupping her buttocks. “God, Nikki, I don’t want to ever stop,” he admitted before prodding her knees apart and settling over her.
“Never,” she murmured.
As rain slid against the windowpanes and the fire popped and burned, Trent claimed her as his own. He closed his eyes as she gazed up at him, her heart thudding, the tension in her tight as a piano wire. She reached upward and touched the dark strands of his hair, while capturing the sway of his lovemaking and moving her hips in time with his.
Lying with him felt so right against the soft, down-filled comforter. With firelight playing upon his sleek muscles and throwing red-gold highlights into his dark hair, he looked tough, and strong and male. His face was strained, little beads of sweat dotting his brow as he thrust into her, again and again.
Closing her eyes, she gave herself to him, body and soul, telling herself to trust him as her thoughts spun out of control, her blood ran hot, her body gathered the momentum of a steaming freight train. She felt their worlds collide, rocking her to her very soul, catapulting her into a realm of dizzying heights she was certain no woman before had ever scaled.
She heard a voice, realized it was hers and clung to him as he fell against her, breathless and covered in a sheen of sweat.
“Nikki, sweet Nikki,” he murmured, crushing her to him. As afterglow claimed her, she snuggled against Trent, secure in the knowledge that for this night, this reckless, passionate night, nothing existed but Trent and the heartstopping fact that she loved him.
Trent held her close, but the demons in his mind would allow no sleep. He’d made mistakes in his life, too many to count. And he knew he’d made more than his share with Nikki, but he couldn’t help himself.
If he had to, he’d lie, he’d steal, probably even kill for her. But he knew that no matter how many times he told her, she’d never believe him.
He pulled her closer and kissed the hollow of her shoulder. She murmured his name and sighed softly, and the sound wrenched him to his very soul because he knew that, try though he might, he was destined to lose her.
He’d gone too far, let himself get caught up in his own fantasy because he couldn’t imagine ever living without her. Yes, he’d lied, and someday surely she would condemn him to the very bowels of hell, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. She was a woman the like of which he’d never met before and though he’d wanted to resist her, the task had proved too difficult.
“Oh, Nikki,” he said on a sigh as he kissed her temple. “If you only knew.”
CHAPTER NINE
Hot, cloying air burned in her lungs and covered her skin like a moist, invisible blanket. She kept running, vines clinging to her legs, her feet stumbling as leaves slapped her face. Sweat poured from her skin and the sound of footsteps, heavy, evil and moving with the quickness of a jungle cat, crashed after her.
Help me!
The sound of the sea drew her like a magnet, though she knew the ocean was no savior. But the malevolence breathing hot upon the back of neck propelled her unwilling legs steadily up the hill, chasing her. Fear drummed in her ears and she sent up prayer after prayer.
Please, God, help me!
“¡Pare!” a deep voice yelled. Oh, God, he was so close! In her peripheral vision, she saw his shadow looming big and black and moving swiftly.
She ran harder, her lungs burning, her legs straining.
“Nikki! Nikki!”
Trent’s voice, somewhere in the distance.
The shadow stretched out its arm, targeting a gun toward her back. Nikki tried to scream but her voice froze in her lungs.
The gun cracked—
“Nikki! Nikki! Wake up!”
Shrieking, Nikki sat bolt upright in bed. Shaking, her voice raw from her own screams, she collapsed against Trent and lost a battle with hot, terrified tears.
“You’re all right,” he whispered against her crown. She buried her face into the curve of his shoulder, her fingers digging into his flesh. “Nikki, shh. You’re safe now.” His arms, strong and possessive, wrapped around her, and he cradled her against his chest, slowly rocking her, kissing her crown of mussed hair, willing his strength into her trembling body.
“It was so real,” she whispered, her insides quaking. Swiping back a tear with her fingertips, she felt like a fool. Her fears had crystallized in the dream, the same damned nightmare she’d had off and on for two weeks.
“You were back on the island again,” he said, holding her.
She nodded against him, her cheek rubbing his solid flesh. Over the sound of her breathing she could hear the steady beat of his heart. Squeezing back more tears, she leaned against him, her arms surrounding his naked torso, her sighs ruffling the dark swirling hairs of his chest.
Trent held her until her breathing was regu
lar, until she no longer trembled in his arms, until the guilt eating at him was too great to bear. He stared at the clock. 5:00 a.m. The fire was reduced to a few glowing coals in a bed of cool ashes, and the rain had stopped. Through the window he saw the first few lights winking from the homes of early risers who lived across the lake.
Her arms tightened around him and he gritted his teeth against the deceit that tore at him like cat’s teeth. For two weeks he’d lied to her, and sooner or later he would have to own up to the truth. He’d planned to set the record straight the minute their plane had touched down at SeaTac, but he hadn’t, partly from fear, partly because he was so damned selfish. For the first time in five years he longed for a cigarette and a fifth of Jim Beam and wished the ache beginning to harden between his legs would go away.
Time was running out and the lie was growing bigger.
In a matter of hours, she would be able to check the records herself.
He hated weakness and he was weak where she was concerned. Had been from the beginning. That much hadn’t been part of the lies. His lust for her had been overpowering and he’d given into carnal pleasure at the expense of her trust. Hell, what a mess.
The time was right. There was no going back. Slowly he disentangled himself from her. “Maybe you should try and get a little more sleep,” he suggested, then mentally kicked himself for putting off the inevitable.
Yawning, she stretched, her hands reaching upward, the bedcovers slipping down to reveal her breasts, round, darktipped mounds that begged for his attention. The little peaks were tight from the cold and he had no trouble imagining what they would feel like in his hands or how they would taste….
“I can’t sleep,” she said, smiling a little.
His insides turned to jelly. Didn’t she know how damned sexy she was with her gold-brown hair falling in sensual, tangled waves to her shoulders, and her eyes, still dark and slumberous, focused on him?
The hardness in his crotch was becoming unbearable. He slid to the side of the bed, threw his legs over the edge of the mattress and struggled into his suddenly too-tight Levi’s. The room smelled of charred wood, perfume and fresh air, permeated with the heady aroma of sex.
