Desert Rain with Bonus Material

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Gently she eased out from under Linc’s arm and pushed in the alarm button on the clock. Except for the golden glow of a nightlight across the room, it was dark.

  Linc muttered and moved restlessly, seeking Holly even in his sleep. She slipped beneath his arm again. Still sleeping, he gathered her against his body and sighed deeply.

  Holly savored the stolen moments of his warmth. She enjoyed the weight of his arm wrapped around her hips. She delighted in the smell and texture of his skin. She loved the taste of him on her lips and the feel of him against her body.

  She even liked having her nose tickled by the dark hair on his chest.

  The clock ticked its unhappy reminder of time flying by, when all Holly wanted was for time to be as still as she was. She knew she should get out of bed right now. There was barely time to do her exercises, shower, wash and set her hair, check her nails . . . all the endless, time-consuming things that came with the territory called modeling.

  But she had missed Linc too much to leave him easily now.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  The words were a bare thread of sound in the silence.

  They were answered by silence alone.

  She hadn’t expected anything else. Even if he had been awake, he wouldn’t have said what she longed to hear.

  I love you.

  Uneasiness twisted through Holly, cold fingernails of fear that she couldn’t ignore.

  During the night Linc had made love to her repeatedly. He had touched her deeply, teaching her to respond to the siren call of his potent body. Each time had been better for her, a sensual progression that finally had consumed them both.

  He had given her the most intense pleasure imaginable. And then he had doubled it, showing her the limitations of her own imagination with each sweet movement of his body over hers.

  There had been no end to her wanting.

  Or his.

  Even now Holly wanted Linc with an intensity that frightened her. He had become as necessary to her as her eyes or her hands or her heart.

  Yet he could leave so suddenly, so completely, a shadow diving beneath an incandescent sea.

  When she thought of it, she felt vulnerable.

  No. Face it, she told herself bluntly. I’m scared.

  It was like being alone in a desert storm with lightning raining down, lightning striking closer to her each time . . .

  And the only shelter around was locked and bolted against her.

  If Linc loved me, it wouldn’t matter that he is sinking into me, becoming a part of me all the way to my soul.

  If Linc loved me, he would cherish and protect me from my own vulnerability to him.

  If Linc loved me, he would open the door to himself and not lock it again until I was safe inside.

  If he loved me . . .

  But he didn’t.

  It wasn’t merely the words he didn’t say that warned Holly. For all his passionate intensity, for all his consummate skill in touching her, the laughter and gentle caring they had shared with one another at Hidden Springs was gone.

  He never called her niná. He hadn’t since he had learned that she was Shannon.

  Holly gave herself to Linc, mind and body and soul. In return he gave her . . . pleasure.

  Body without mind or soul.

  He hid from her behind a physical fire that grew hotter each time they made love.

  They were being consumed, not renewed.

  Yet she couldn’t stop wanting him. She loved him. She needed to assure him that it was safe to love her. She could never hurt him. He was part of her soul.

  Surely he must know that, Holly thought. Surely he must realize that I couldn’t respond to him with such abandon if I didn’t love him.

  Surely he couldn’t respond to me so completely if he didn’t love me.

  Just a little.

  A beginning, not an end.

  The clock ticked, marking off dark minutes. Each tick was a needle pricking her conscience. She really had to get to work.

  Slowly Holly lifted Linc’s arm from her body and eased out of bed. She pulled on the first piece of clothing she found—his shirt—and began her morning exercises.

  Quietly, relentlessly, she stretched, strengthened, and toned muscles. The exercises were for her own satisfaction as well as for the camera’s relentlessly critical eye.

  She was nearly finished when Linc rolled over, opened his eyes, and looked at her in disbelief.

  “Good God, it’s not even dawn,” he said, groaning. “What in hell are you doing up?”

  “Welcome to—the glamorous world—of models,” Holly said between sit-ups.

  He sat up and turned on the small bedside light. He stared at her damp, flushed face.

  “Fifty-four,” Holly said aloud. “Fifty-five.”

  She lay back with a small groan.

  “Finished?” Linc asked.

  “Don’t I—wish,” she panted.

  With that, she rolled onto her stomach and began doing pushups, counting under her breath.

  “All that for a beautiful body?” he asked neutrally.

  “A—healthy—body.”

  For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of Holly counting off pushups.

  Linc watched her with increasing astonishment. For the first time he realized that Holly’s sleek, resilient body hadn’t just come to her along with her bone structure and tilted golden eyes. Her grace of movement was the result of training and hard work.

  Boring exercises, to be precise.

  Finally she sighed and switched to a cross-legged position. Slowly she bent over her knees until her forehead touched the floor. She repeated the exercise several times, holding the stretched position longer each time.

  “Which is worse,” Linc asked finally, “the sit-ups, the pushups, or the forehead-on-the-floor?”

  “Yes.”

  For a moment he looked puzzled. Then he laughed aloud as he understood.

  Holly stopped and stared at Linc. It was the first genuine laughter she had heard from him since he had found out she was Holly Shannon North.

  With a smile and a new lightness of heart, she resumed the stretching exercises. She had chosen each one of them so that she would be able to execute and maintain improbable poses for impossible photographers.

  While looking effortless and graceful, of course.

  With a growing sensual glint to his eyes, Linc watched his shirt ride higher and higher up Holly’s thighs as she worked out.

  “I can think of more pleasant ways to exercise,” he said huskily.

  “So can I.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance and a smile that he returned almost lazily. Yet the look in his eyes was anything but lazy.

  “That’s why I’m going to take a shower next,” Holly added.

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think?” she retorted. “I’m sweaty.”

  Linc’s smile changed, as hot as the gleam in his eyes.

  “You were sweaty last night,” he pointed out. “I loved licking every bit of it off your skin. Everywhere.”

  Her heartbeat quickened. She couldn’t control a shiver of desire as she remembered.

  “Linc . . .”

  “I’m right here.”

  Naked, he climbed out of the bed and came toward her. With each easy movement he made, muscles shifted and gleamed under his skin. His arousal was obvious.

  Once it would have frightened Holly. Now it set her on fire. She knew what kind of ecstasy waited for her in Linc’s embrace.

  Silently he sat cross-legged on the floor facing her. He was so close that their knees rubbed and her hair fell across his thighs when she bent over to stretch.

  Then she looked up at him. His expression made a liquid heat bloom deep within her body. Long masculine fingers began undoing the buttons on the shirt she had borrowed.

  “I have to shower, do my hair, and get to the set,” Holly said.

  Her voice was breathless from more than
her exercise.

  “When?” Linc asked, unbuttoning as he spoke.

  “I should be in the shower right now.”

  The shirt fell away, revealing the golden curves of her breasts. Her nipples were already hard with desire.

  His fingertips touched the taut pink buds as delicately as a kiss. The sound Holly made at his caress sent a shaft of pure fire through him. His hard flesh leaped visibly.

  The obvious hunger of his body sent a wave of glittering heat throughout Holly.

  He caressed her nipples again, savoring her throaty cries. Finally his palms moved over her waist and hips, hungry for the soft, sleek textures of her very core.

  When his fingers glided up her thighs to caress her intimately, her passion spilled over him like liquid fire.

  Abruptly Linc’s breathing was as ragged as Holly’s. His caress slid inside her with an ease that made his whole body go rigid. He moved within her, stroking her with slow rhythms that unraveled her.

  The sultry pulses of her response brought him right up to the edge of his control.

  “You want me as much as I want you,” Linc said roughly.

  “You sound surprised.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’ll always want you, Linc. I love you.”

  “Come sit in my lap.”

  “But I’m late.”

  He lifted her legs over his. His thumb rubbed the hard bud of her passion.

  She gasped at the wave of pleasure that bit into her.

  “Linc—”

  “It won’t take long,” he said. “You’re as hot as I am. You can shower afterward.”

  Holly arched and shivered as he plucked at her most sensitive flesh, his fingers slick with her helpless response.

  “We were supposed to talk,” she said.

  “We will.”

  Linc lifted her hips. Then he held her so that she just brushed against his heavily aroused flesh. The knowledge of how close they both were to completion made Holly moan.

  “When will we talk?” she gasped.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “Shhh. You want this as much as I do. And you can feel how much I want you now, can’t you?”

  Slowly Linc fitted Holly over him like a living glove. Whatever words she might have wanted to speak were lost in a kiss as deep and hot as the joining of their bodies.

  With a low moan, she began moving over him, giving herself to him and to the incandescent pleasure they created together.

  Tomorrow, Holly promised herself as the first wave of ecstasy hit her, shaking her. We’ll talk tomorrow.

  “All right, that’s a wrap!” called the director through his bullhorn.

  Then he looked at Roger. The designer was standing nearby, elegant in a sage-colored safari shirt.

  “Unless you want to try a few takes for Desert Designs . . . ?” the director asked.

  “The Desert Designs campaign isn’t due for six weeks. Let’s not be greedy.”

  “Why not? It’s going well. At last.”

  Though neither man said anything, both knew the shoot had been going well for the last four days because Holly’s lover was there with her. Whatever passed between them had given her both a radiance and an edge of shadow that had transformed her from a beautiful model to a compelling woman.

  Broodingly Roger watched Holly as she sat in the shade of a huge umbrella, rubbing a cold bottle of water against her wrists.

  “Just for the rest of the day?” the director asked.

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “With the edge of that hurricane finally moving in,” Roger interrupted, “the sky doesn’t make a very convincing desert backdrop. It will be too hard to match with whatever we shoot later at Hidden Springs.”

  He turned to his assistant.

  “Break out the peppermints,” Roger said clearly.

  A subdued cheer went up from everyone within hearing.

  Holly tried not to show her acute relief. If Roger was passing out mints, the shoot was over. It was a Royce tradition.

  She accepted the first mint, smiled at the crew and left the set feeling as though a train had run over her. They had been working for nine straight days. Every muscle in her body ached.

  At least Roger hadn’t been complaining about the fit of her clothes anymore. Her appetite had returned with Linc and had stayed, as he had stayed.

  She looked beyond the roped-off area, seeking Linc.

  Almost all the spectators were gone, swept back to their distant homes by hurricane warnings. Linc was not among the few people left beyond the rope.

  Fear shot coldly through Holly. She searched for him with a growing sense of panic.

  Surely he hasn’t left without saying goodbye to me?

  When she heard her own thoughts, the depth of her own uncertainty and vulnerability shocked her.

  In the last four days Linc had been very much a part of her life. He had been civil to Roger and charming to the rest of the people.

  Linc had watched her work, beginning before dawn and not stopping until the last light left the sky. If he didn’t understand something about her work, he had asked for explanations later.

  And he had listened, really listened, when she answered.

  Holly’s hope had increased with each question, each answer, each time she looked up and saw Linc watching the intricate dance of director and model, camera and lighting technicians, makeup and hair stylist and seamstresses and all the thousands of details that went into a professional shoot.

  She had told herself that he was finally coming to understand how little the reality of modeling had to do with irresponsible, amoral women like his mother and stepmother.

  With each day, Holly had told herself that he was coming to appreciate the amount of talent and training and plain hard work that went into her career. She had allowed herself to believe he was changing his mind, outgrowing the past.

  But her panic when she didn’t see Linc waiting beyond the ropes told her how fragile her hopes really were. Deep inside she was haunted by the knowledge that each moment with him could be the last.

  He doesn’t believe I love him, because he still believes beautiful women are too selfish to love anyone but themselves.

  Linc doesn’t love me . . . yet.

  There was a universe of hope in that single word.

  Yet.

  As long as we’re together, she told herself, I have a chance to make him believe that I love him.

  It wasn’t the first time Holly had reassured herself when fear of losing Linc sent shadows over the radiance of being with him.

  When he believes in my love, he’ll finally be able to let go of the past. He’ll be able to love me in return.

  Even as she repeated the hopeful thought, she shivered with a chill that never left her unless she was in Linc’s arms, their bodies locked together, fused into a single being by ecstasy.

  At the very least, she told herself, he will no longer hate and or distrust women simply because they’re beautiful.

  Like me.

  Because Linc finally knew just how beautiful Holly was.

  She saw it in his eyes if she turned unexpectedly—shadows that matched her own. Questions. Uncertainty.

  Fear.

  Like me.

  Until he trusted her, she would live in fear of losing all that she had given to him.

  Heart and body and soul.

  It’s early, she told herself firmly. He probably doesn’t know we’re finished with the shoot yet.

  He’s probably back in our room or in the pool or the ocean or . . .

  Be here, Linc. Believe in me.

  In us.

  All but running, Holly went to the dressing tent. She changed with a disregard for the clothes that would have shocked Roger.

  Impatiently she went back outside and searched the spectators for Linc’s tall form.

  He was nowhere in sight.

  Fear blossomed like a cold flowe
r within her.

  In that moment Holly knew that when she found Linc—if she found him—she would have to force him to talk to her.

  The “tomorrow” he kept putting off had finally come.

  Twenty-three

  “Shannon?”

  Holly turned and saw one of the technicians waving at her. With barely concealed irritation she waited for the man to approach.

  “What is it?” she asked with unusual sharpness. “I thought we were through with the shoot.”

  “Uh, Linc said he would be in your room if you got through early, that’s all.”

  Holly flashed the technician a smile that was startling in its radiance. Impulsively she bent and kissed the little man’s cheek.

  “Thanks,” she said breathlessly. “You’re a darling.”

  She turned and ran toward the hotel, leaving behind an entirely bemused technician.

  When she unlocked the outer door and went down the short hall to the suite, the light in the room was dim yet oddly luminous. It was the haunting, all-over radiance peculiar to tropical storms just before they broke.

  Linc was sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard. He was wearing only a towel wrapped around his hips. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower. A faint sheen of moisture made the hair on his chest gleam with each breath he took.

  Oh, Linc, Holly asked him silently, how can you distrust beauty when you’re so beautiful yourself?

  Arabian stud books and breeding charts were spread out on the bed around him. He was so intent upon what he was doing that he didn’t notice her standing in the doorway, drinking in his presence like desert sand drinking rain.

  Drapes swirled fitfully at either side of the open balcony doors. Like Holly, Linc preferred fresh air of almost any temperature to the stale, closed-in “comfort” of hotel air conditioning.

  She let out a long sigh.

  He glanced up, smiled, and went back to the breeding charts.

  “Thought I’d lost you,” Holly said lightly.

  He made a noncommittal sound and wrote another note along the margin of a chart before looked up.

  “You’re off early,” he said.

  “We’re finished.”

  She stretched and laughed aloud with a relief that owed little to having completed a difficult modeling assignment.