by Hazel Hunter
He turned and strode off.
She clenched her jaw and followed.
The man was infuriating.
• • • • •
Quinn could hear Lou huffing and puffing but she never complained. He hadn’t upped the pace because he knew she was near the top of hers. He could have walked twice as fast and still tracked the dogs. Now that he’d finally determined the extent of their territory, knew their trails, and found the patterns in their movements, tracking wasn’t a problem.
The problem was Lou.
He was more aware of her than anything else. Based on where the dogs had to be and the direction of the wind, he’d kept them on a track that would be downwind from the animals. Unfortunately, their orientation also allowed him occasional whiffs of her perfume. That had to stop.
He slowed, then came to a halt, and took his water bottle from the net at the side of his backpack.
“Why are we stopping?” she breathed as she came alongside.
He finished sipping his water.
“I’m going to need you downwind from me,” he said, not looking at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, still breathing hard. “Did you say downwind?”
He finally turned to her.
“Yes, downwind,” he said, still not quite sure how to put this. “I can’t smell anything except your perfume.”
“My perfume?”
“I’m not saying it isn’t nice but I need my sense of smell for tracking. I always have. I–”
“I’m not wearing perfume,” Lou said.
He stopped and looked down at her.
“What?”
“I’m not wearing perfume,” she said again, shaking her head. “I typically don’t.”
“What?” he couldn’t help but say again, confused. “But then…”
She took out her water and opened it.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” she said. “I’m not using anything scented that I’m aware of.”
How could that be?
She took a drink of water.
He could smell her right now and she wasn’t even upwind. Was that just her?
“You must be wearing something,” he said, stepping closer. “Take off your hat.”
She quickly stepped back.
“What?”
“I want to smell your hair.”
CHAPTER THREE
What were they doing? wondered Farid.
Farid watched through the binoculars.
Quinn and the woman had been making good progress most of the day, especially for foreigners. Then again, Quinn wasn’t like most foreigners. Well known to the locals for his desert and tracking skills, he’d earned their respect. No doubt he already had the trail of the Hunting Dog.
Farid grinned at the thought.
The dogs were becoming harder and harder to find, making the price of their hides even higher. After months of no sightings, it had finally occurred to him that Quinn would be much easier to track than the dog itself. Farid would just follow him to their location. The arrival of the woman almost guaranteed Quinn knew where to find them.
Farid had never understood people who were ready to see humans suffer to save a dog. She was undoubtedly one of those. His family needed the money that the pelts could provide. Without it, they wouldn’t survive. Unlike most foreigners, Quinn seemed to understand that. Once there had been talk of killing him but Farid and some of the others couldn’t permit it. Quinn stayed out of their way and they stayed out of his. Leaving him alone was the easiest and safest thing to do.
Now the woman was taking off her hat. Farid peered at them through the field glasses. Her hair was a brilliant color–more red than any bird or flower he’d ever seen. He lowered the binoculars for a moment as a thought occurred to him.
A bird in the hand is worth two flying.
Maybe he’d find the hunting dogs, maybe not, even with Quinn’s help. But the woman–he raised the binoculars–she was a certainty. Beautiful and exotic, she’d bring a far higher price than pelts ever could. For ransom or for sale, it didn’t matter.
This was a bird in the hand.
• • • • •
Lou slowly reached up to the rim of the canvas hat and took it off.
Though she couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses, his body language was tense. As he came closer, his nostrils flared. Then he leaned toward her.
She’d been wearing her hair down to cover her neck. There was less ventilation that way but it also protected her skin.
He carefully lifted several strands to his face and inhaled. He was standing so close that she could easily hear him breathe, see the rise and fall of his chest. She waited, unmoving as he inhaled again. Then he let her hair fall and bent even lower. He inhaled again. She flicked her eyes to him but could only see the side of his face, the stubble on his jaw. He inhaled again and she felt the movement of air on her neck. He was smelling her skin.
Her heart raced as she felt his moist breath move lower, toward the V of her neckline. He lingered there as her heart pounded and the air around them became still. Slowly, he backed away and, for a brief moment, she had a wild thought: she’d grab his tank top and stop him. But the moment was gone and he’d come to a halt by himself.
“It’s your skin,” he said hoarsely. “It’s you.”
He stood rigid, not moving a muscle, and she was reminded of animals that stalked their prey. She swallowed in a dry throat.
He took another pace back and flexed his hands.
“Downwind,” he said. “You better stay downwind.”
• • • • •
The rest of the morning had been quiet. As Lou hiked to the side of Quinn, she occasionally looked over at him. Although she’d changed position for the sake of the wind direction, it also afforded her a better view. Off to the side of him rather than behind, she could see that his eyes were constantly moving over the terrain, which was getting steeper and rockier. There wasn’t a tree or plant in sight and it was hard to imagine that they’d be at an oasis tomorrow. She adjusted the angle of her hat.
The late morning had become incredibly hot.
The image of him smelling her skin didn’t help. Now that she was downwind, he didn’t seem to have a problem–but she did. She glanced up at the sky. They must be getting close to a stopping point. Quinn had said it’d be too hot to travel in the middle of the day.
She looked back at the ground.
What could he possibly be seeing?
He alternated between looking at the rocky terrain and scanning ahead, his eyes in constant motion. He walked as though he weren’t even carrying a pack, though he was carrying all the food and extra water. He was completely focused.
Must be nice.
She reached for her water.
“I think that’s far enough,” he said.
She looked up at him and realized he’d stopped.
“I think we’d better get out of the sun,” he said, unhooking the belt of his backpack. “I’ll set up the tent.”
She didn’t know what had made this minute different from any other but she was ready to be out of the sun.
“Won’t the tent be hot?” she said, taking off her backpack.
“Yes,” he said, setting his pack on the ground. “But we’ll be able to keep it ventilated by opening everything. There’s no way around the heat. Still, it’ll be cooler than direct sunlight.”
She set her pack on the ground as he removed the tent from the top of his. Although he’d set it up the first night, she’d set up plenty of tents before.
“I’d be glad to help,” she said, coming toward him.
He hesitated for a second but quickly recovered.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “Just take a couple of minutes.”
“Well, then,” she said. “With two of us, it’ll just take a minute.”
He was crouched in front of his backpack, removing the tent from its nylon bag and she crouched in front of him. He tossed the bag of anchors to the
ground. She reached for it.
“We won’t need those,” he said. “We’ll only be here for a few hours.”
“Quinn, I’d like to help.”
“It’ll be quicker if I do it,” he said.
“What’s your hurry?” she said. “Or do you not think I can do it?”
“There’s that good hearing of yours again,” he said, but he didn’t look at her.
She stood up.
“That’s really getting annoying,” she said.
“Tell me about it,” he said, standing and unfolding the tent.
Seriously? They’d hardly said two words since he’d sniffed her skin. Maybe that was it. Maybe she was standing upwind. She stepped sideways just as he moved in the same direction. They collided.
Over six feet tall and solid muscle, it was like getting hit by a car. She bounced off with a sharp huff of air and she stumbled.
“Lou!” he exclaimed as he quickly grabbed her from behind.
Another rush of air escaped her as his arm tightened around her waist and she came to an abrupt stop. Her hat and sunglasses flew off and landed on the ground.
“Whoa,” he said.
She felt him pull her upright and she grabbed his arm to steady herself.
As she got her footing, she turned to him.
Both his arms were still around her waist and he was looking down at her.
“Are you alright?” he said.
She nodded and took a moment to catch her breath.
“I’m fine,” she said, leaving her hands on his arms. “Remind me not to play football with you.”
He smiled at that and didn’t let her go. His arms were incredibly hard.
“Wrestling, actually,” he said. “Heavyweight.”
She lightly squeezed the muscles under her fingers and looked down at the curve of his chest.
“Heavyweight,” she repeated. “I don’t doubt it.”
His smile disappeared and she watched his nostrils flare.
“Lou,” he said quietly, a warning tone in his voice.
The breeze lightly rustled a few locks of his shiny, black hair. Although she wanted to look into his eyes, all she could see in the sunglasses was herself. Slowly, she reached up, took the sunglasses between her fingers at his temples, and slid them off.
His eyes stared hard into hers.
“Be careful, Lou,” he said lowly, as he lowered his gaze to her lips. “Don’t start something you don’t want to finish.”
Though she’d been about to tuck the sunglasses into his chest pocket, she paused. The danger that she had sensed within him had risen to the surface. Raw, animal power exuded from him, accentuated by the guttural tone of his voice. Up close, his torso wasn’t impressive, it was massive. Around her waist, his arms weren’t strong, they were like concrete. In the middle of the Sahara Desert, days from civilization, if he wanted to overpower her, she’d have no choice. He was offering her that choice now. He stood still, except for his eyes. They drifted down to her chest. Her heart began to pound.
She tucked the sunglasses into his pocket and rested her hands on his pectorals. Even if she wanted to stop, she didn’t think she could. In fact, she could barely think. Her fingers kneaded into him, slowly at first and lightly, and then with more force. She felt her way over his chest, squeezing, probing, sliding up toward his shoulders. Then he began to move.
His lips parted as he drew her closer and then, as she gaped, his tongue moved over his lower lip and then his upper.
Oh my god. He’s licking his lips.
It was unbelievably sensual but also chilling, like a wolf that had found a meal. Her heart fluttered and she blinked at the seductive new curve of his upper lip.
“I can smell it on you,” he whispered hoarsely. “I have from the start.”
“Smell what?” she asked, surprised to hear the quiver in her voice.
“Your arousal,” he said.
He tugged her hard to his chest and quickly covered her mouth with his, muffling her small cry of surprise. His lips engulfed hers, their firm clasp completely owning hers. She marveled at the silky surface of them, even as they pressed, slid, and stroked in quick succession. Warmth radiated from them and, as they briefly separated from hers, she felt their moist cling.
Without a pause, though, he captured her lower lip and sucked it completely into his mouth. His tongue played with it, almost fluttering. As shock gave way to the shivering sensations running down her spine, Lou finally wound her arms around his neck. Slowly, his teeth lightly grazed the plump middle of her lower lip and he gradually let it slip away.
He immediately turned his attention to her upper lip. He licked it, almost the way he’d licked his own, and then he proceeded to nibble it. From left to right, and then back again, his lips ate hers. Her breathing had quickly turned into a series of gasps. There was hardly time to register one new sensation before another took its place. She wanted to kiss him back but his mouth was urgent, seeking, exploring, and constantly in motion. His lips pressed into hers and then tugged on them as his head tilted one way and then the other. His embrace had tightened, crushing her against him, and she realized she couldn’t breathe.
Suddenly, he released her mouth and bent lower to kiss her throat. As though she was surfacing for air, she sucked in a breath. The tidal wave of passion was overwhelming. Her fingers dug into his hair as he gnawed her neck, sucked on her skin, and covered her with his tongue.
“You taste,” he said, pausing for only a second, “as good as you smell.”
Her breath caught as his tongue lashed the dip between her collarbones and went as low as her shirt would allow.
“I’m going to take you, Lou,” he growled, his lips vibrating against her skin. “Here. Now.”
She tilted her head back and closed her eyes to the glare of the Sahara sun.
“Yes,” she whispered.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
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Copyright © 2012 Hazel Hunter
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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