by Janet Dailey
“Oh, no.” With a pull of his hand he forced her upright, then scooped her wiggling and protesting body into his arms.
The instant Rachel realized that there was no hope of struggling free, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on. “Gard, don’t.” Her words were halfway between a plea and an empty threat.
There was a complacent gleam in his dark eyes as he looked down at her, cradled in his arms. An awareness curled through her for the sensation of her body curved against the solidness of his naked chest and the hard strength of his flexed arm muscles imprinted on her back and the underside of her legs. It tightened her stomach muscles and closed a hand on her lungs.
Gard sensed the change in her reaction to the moment. A look of intimacy stole into his eyes, too, as his gaze roamed possessively over her face. His body heat seemed to radiate over her skin, warming her flesh the way his look was igniting her desire.
“I’m not going to let you back away this time.” His low voice vibrated huskily over her, the comment an obvious reference to the way she had backed away from making love to him. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to take the plunge.”
“I know,” Rachel whispered, because she felt the inevitability of it. At some time or another it had stopped being a question of whether it was what she wanted and become instead when she wanted it to happen.
A smile edged the corners of his mouth. “Damn you for knowing”—his look was alive, gleaming with a mixture of desire and wickedness—“and still putting me through this.”
Rachel started to smile, but it froze into place as he suddenly heaved her away from his body. Her hands lost their hold on his neck. For a second there was the sensation of being suspended in air, followed by the shock of cool water encapsulating her body.
Something else hit the water close by her as Rachel kicked for the surface where light glittered. She emerged with a sputtering gasp for air and pushed the black screen of wet hair away from her face and eyes. There was no sign of Gard on the stone bank.
Treading water, Rachel pivoted in a circle to locate him, realizing that he must have dived into the pool after he’d thrown her in. He was behind her, only a couple of yards away. Laughter glinted in his expression.
“It wasn’t so traumatic, was it?” mocked Gard.
“A little warning would have been nice,” she retorted. “Maybe then I wouldn’t have swallowed half the pool.”
Now that she’d gotten over the shock, the water seemed pleasantly warm and refreshing. Striking out together, they explored the boundaries of their quiet pool, discovering a small cave hollowed into five feet of solid stone. Its floor was underwater, and the ceiling was too low to allow them to stand inside it.
They stayed in the rock pool for more than an hour, swimming, sometimes floating and talking, sometimes diving to explore the clear depths. Gard climbed out first and helped Rachel onto the stone slab, made slick by the water dripping from their bodies.
Although there were towels in her beach bag, neither made use of them. Instead they sprawled contentedly on the sun-warmed rock and let the afternoon air dry them naturally. Her body felt loose and relaxed as she sat and combed her fingers through the wet tangle of her black hair. She felt tired and exhilarated all at the same time. When she leaned back and braced herself with her hands, she gave a little toss of her head to shake away the wet strands clinging to her neck. It scattered a shower of water droplets onto Gard.
“Hey!” he protested mildly. “You’re getting me all wet.”
“Look who’s complaining about a little water,” Rachel mocked him playfully. “You’re the same man who threw me into that pool an hour ago.”
“That’s different.” He smiled lazily and raised up on an elbow alongside her.
“That’s what I thought.” She shifted into a reclining position supported by her elbows. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”
“It depends on what’s being served,” Gard corrected and sent an intimating look over her curving figure, outlined by her wet and clinging bathing suit. She felt a response flaring within at his caressing look, but it was wiped from his expression when his gaze returned to her face, a dark brow lifting. “Which reminds me—we never did get around to having lunch.”
“That’s true. I’d forgotten.” Food had been the farthest thing from her mind.
“Are you hungry?”
Rachel had to think about it. “No,” she finally decided. “But considering how much I’ve eaten since I’ve been on the cruise, I don’t think my stomach knows it didn’t have lunch today.” And she had tried to make a practice of skipping lunch so she wouldn’t find herself overeating, but it seemed only fair to put the question to him. “How about you? Are you hungry?”
Her lavender swimsuit was held in place by straps tied around her neck. One wet end was lying on the ridge of her shoulder. Taking his time to answer her question, Gard reached over and picked up the strap, studying it idly as he held it between his fingers.
“Don’t you know by now, Rachel”—his voice was lowered to a husky pitch, then his darkening gaze swung slowly to her face—“that I’m starving. I don’t know about you, but it’s been one helluva long time between meals for me.”
When he leaned toward her, Rachel began to sink back onto the stone to lie flat, her hands free to take him into her arms as he came to her. His mouth settled onto her lips with hungry need, the weight of his body moving onto her.
She slid her hands around his broad shoulders, melting under the consuming fire of his kiss. The hard skin of his ropey shoulders was warm and wet to the touch, sensual in its male strength and alive in its silken heat. There was a stir and a rush of blood through her veins; the beat of her heart lifted.
His fingers hadn’t lost their hold on the end of her bathing suit strap. In an abstract way Rachel felt the slow, steady pull that untied the wet bow and relieved the pressure behind her neck. But it was the taste of him, driving full into her mouth, that dominated her senses and pushed all other sensation into secondary interest. It was the hot wetness of his mouth, the tang of tobacco on his tongue, and the salty texture of his skin that she savored.
Her hand curled its fingers into the damp, satin strands of his russet hair and pressed at the back of his head to deepen the kiss so she could absorb more of him. Soon it ceased to matter as his mouth grazed roughly over her features, murmuring her name and mixing it in with love words. There followed near delirious moments when Rachel strained to return the rain of kisses, her lips and the tip of her tongue rushing over the hard angles of his cheekbone and jaw.
Then Gard was burying his face in the curve of her neck, nuzzling her skin and taking little love bites out of the sensitive ridge of her shoulder. His tugging fingers pulled down the front of her bathing suit, freeing her breasts from the confining, elasticized material of her suit. Behind her closed eyes Rachel could see the golden fire of the sun, but when his hand caressed the ripe fullness of a breast, that radiant heat seemed to blaze within her. She was hot all over, atremble with the desires shuddering through her.
She dug her fingers into the hard flesh of his shoulders as his mouth took a slow, wandering route to the erotically erect nipple. He circled it with the tormenting tip of his tongue. Rachel arched her body in raw need, driving her shoulders onto the unyielding rock slab and feeling none of the pain, only the soaring pleasure of his devouring mouth. A building pressure throbbed within her, an ache in her loins that couldn’t be satisfied by the roaming excitement of his skillful hand.
Sounds came from somewhere, striking a wrong chord in the rhapsody of the moment, only beginning to build to its crescendo. Rachel tried to isolate it from the beating of her heart and the sibilant whispers of her sawing breath.
The discordant sounds were voices—high-pitched, laughing voices. She moaned in angry protest and heard Gard swear under his breath. The weight of his body pressed more heavily onto her as if to deny the intrusion while each tried to will it away
. But the voices were becoming clearer, signaling the approach of someone.
When Gard rolled from her, he caught her hands and pulled her up to sit in front of him. His broad chest and shoulders acted as a shield to conceal her seminudity in case anyone had come close enough to see them. He struggled to control the roughness of his breathing while the unbanked fires in his eyes were drawn to the swollen ripeness of her breasts and their state of high arousal.
“It sounds like we have a bunch of adventurous teenagers exploring the cascade,” he said as Rachel fumbled with the straps of her suit and pulled the bodice into place.
In her passion-drugged state she lacked coordination. There was a languid weakness in her limbs and a heaviness in her eyelids. None of the inner throbbings had been satisfied, and the ache of wanting was still with her.
Gard looked in no better shape when she finally met his eyes. One side of his mouth lifted in a dryly commiserating smile. She found herself smiling back with a hint of bemusement.
“So much for the appetizer course, hmm?” he murmured and pushed to his feet. “Since our little paradise is being invaded, do you want to head back?”
“We might as well,” Rachel agreed and reached for her shoes.
On the way back they passed a family with four adolescents determined to travel as far upstream as they could go. When they reached the adobe buildings on the bluff, Rachel didn’t bother to change out of her swimming suit into her clothes. It had long since dried. She simply put on the lavender print cover-up she’d purchased instead.
“The ship isn’t scheduled to sail from Puerto Vallarta until late this evening, and we still have a couple of hours of afternoon left,” Gard said as the car accelerated out of the parking lot onto the paved road. “Is there anyplace you’d like to go?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Rachel settled back into the seat, that unsatisfied inner tension not allowing her to completely relax. “Besides, I’d rather not go anywhere when I look such a mess.”
She’d had a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her ebony hair was a black snarl of waving curls, damply defying any style, and most of her makeup had been washed off during the swim.
“You look good to me,” he insisted with a sliding glance that was warm with approval.
“I’m told if you’re hungry enough, anything looks good,” she retorted dryly, a teasing glow in her smoky eyes.
A low chuckle came from his throat but he made no reponse.
There was an easy silence in the car during the long ride back to town on the twisting, coastal road, each of them privately occupied with their own thoughts. When they reached the port terminal, Gard left the car in a lot and together they walked to the ship’s gangway.
“Found her, did you?” The officer on duty smiled when he recognized Gard with Rachel.
“I certainly did.” There was a lightly possessive hand on her waist as he guided her onto the gangway.
After the glare and the heat of the Mexican sun, the ship seemed cool and dark when Rachel entered it, until her eyes adjusted to the change of light. Instead of taking the stairs, Gard pushed the elevator button.
“We’ve done enough walking and climbing for one day,” he explained while they waited for it to descend to their deck. “Why don’t you come to my cabin? We’ll have a drink, and maybe have the steward bring us a snack.”
“I’d like that,” Rachel agreed. “But why don’t I meet you there in half an hour? That will give me time to freshen up and change into something decent.”
“Okay. It will probably take me that long to turn the car into the rental agency.” The elevator doors swished open and Gard stepped to the side, allowing Rachel to enter first. “But when you change, I’d rather you put on something ‘indecent,’” he added with an engaging half-grin.
It was a little more than half an hour before Rachel knocked at the door of his cabin. With the magic of a blow-dryer and a styling brush, she had fixed her midnight-black hair into a loose and becoming style. Her simple cotton shift was grape colored, trimmed with white ribbing, and cinched at the waist with a wide white belt. Her nerves were leaping and jumping like wildfire when the door opened.
Gard’s features were composed in almost stern lines, a flicker of raw impatience in the dry brown look that swept her. Before she could offer a word of greeting, he was reaching for her hand and pulling her inside to close the door.
Rachel was taken by surprise when his mouth rolled onto her lips in a hot and moist kiss. She swayed into him, feeling his hands grip her shoulders with caressing force. When he lifted his head, he had taken her breath as well as the kiss.
“What kept you?” The demand was in his eyes, but Gard tried to inject a careless note into his voice. “I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”
“It took me longer to get ready than I thought.” When his eyes ran over her and darkened with approval, Rachel was glad about the extra time she’d spent.
With the tip of his finger he located the metal pull of the hidden zipper down the front and drew it down another four inches, so the neckline gaped to show her full cleavage. The sensation licked through her veins like heat lightning. A pleased satisfaction lay dark and disturbing in his half-closed eyes.
“Now it’s closer to being indecent,” he murmured in soft mockery, then swung away from her to walk to the drink cabinet in the corner. “I promised you a drink. What will you have? Gin and tonic?”
“Yes.” She was absurdly pleased that he remembered what she usually ordered.
While Gard fixed a drink for each of them, Rachel took the opportunity to study him unobserved. The backlight of the bar made the hard, smooth contours of his handsome features stand out in sharp relief. During that brief but exhilarating kiss she had caught the spicy scent of fresh aftershave on his skin. The cleanness of his jaw and cheek seemed to verify that he’d taken time to shave before she’d arrived. Her gaze openly admired his male body, so trimly built yet so muscular. Just looking at him was a heady stimulation all its own.
When he turned with the drinks, Rachel pretended an interest in the large sitting room, not quite ready to let him see what was in her mind. “The room seems much larger without so many people in it,” she remarked idly, recalling how small and crowded it had seemed at the cocktail party he’d given.
“It does,” he agreed and handed her the glass of gin and tonic water. He raised his glass in a semblance of a silent toast and carried it to his mouth, sipping at it and looking at her over the rim, quietly assessing and measuring. “It seems we’ve done this before—only last time you didn’t accept the drink I offered,” he said, tipping his head down as he watched the glass he lowered, then flicking a look at her through the screen of his lashes.
“Yes, the night I discovered you in my cabin,” she recalled, aware of the suddenly thready run of her pulse.
“At that point it was our cabin.” A glint of amusement shimmered in his eyes, then faded. Again some inner impatience turned him away from her. “I’ll call the steward and find out what he can offer us in the way of a snack. Is there anything special you’d like?” Gard took a step toward the phone.
“I can’t think of anything.” She held the glass in both hands, the ice cubes transmitting some coolness to her moist palms.
That impatience became more pronounced as he stopped abruptly and swung around to face her. “It’s no good, Rachel. I’m not interested in eating anything—unless it’s you.” The probing intensity of his dark gaze searched her face, hotly disturbing her. “You know why I asked you to my cabin. Now I want to know why you came.”
The weighty silence didn’t last long, but when Rachel finally spoke, her voice throbbed on a husky pitch, too emotionally charged to sound calm.
“For the same reason you asked me—because I wanted to pick up where we left off at the rock pool.” But something went wrong with her certainty when she saw the unmasked flare of dark desire in his expression. As Gard took a step toward her a rus
h of anxiety made her half-turn away from him.
He immediately came to a halt. “What’s wrong, Rachel?” It was a low, insistent demand.
Her throat worked convulsively, trying to give voice to her fears. She turned her head to look at him and forced out a nervous laugh. “I’m afraid,” she admitted while trying to make light of it.
“Afraid of what?” His forehead became creased with a puzzled frown while his narrowed gaze continued to search out her face.
“I guess I’m afraid that it won’t be as wonderful as I think it will,” Rachel explained with a wry smile.
“Of all the—!” His stunned reaction was blatant evidence that he had expected some other explanation. The tension went out of him like an uncoiling spring. “My God, I thought it was something serious,” he muttered under an expelling breath.
“I know it sounds silly—” she began.
“No, it isn’t silly.” In two long strides Gard was at her side, taking the glass out of her hands and setting it on a table. Then he lifted Rachel off her feet and cradled her against his chest. “It’s beautiful,” he said huskily as he looked down at her.
When he carried her to the bedroom door, he was so much the image of the conquering male that Rachel couldn’t help smiling a little. Yet the thought was soon lost in the thrilling rush of anticipation sweeping through her veins.
Once inside the room Gard let her feet settle onto the floor, his gaze never leaving her face, locking with her eyes in a disturbing fashion. Conscious of the tripping rhythm of her pulse, she slowly dragged her gaze from his face to glance at the double bed that occupied the room.
“As soon as I saw that,” Gard murmured, following her glance, “I knew I’d much rather share this cabin with you than the one we were both assigned to originally.”
A comment wasn’t required. Any thought of one flew away at the touch of his fingers on the front zipper of her dress. While he opened it, Rachel unfastened the belt around her waist and let it fall somewhere to the side. Gard undressed her slowly, taking her in with his eyes.
