Safari Moon

by Rogue Phoenix Press

  “Don’t even think that.”

  The telephone rang and even though Solo wanted to stay and continue this conversation, he picked up the phone. Old Robert was on the line and Solo didn’t like the sudden and very explosive rise of jealousy he felt when he heard Robert’s voice.

  “It’s for you,” he said curtly then handed the phone to Nyssa. He strode to the door but couldn’t find the energy to leave so he leaned against it and smiled at her.

  When she hesitated, he nodded. “Go on. Talk to him.”

  She held the receiver in one hand. “What do I tell him?”

  He watched her moisten her lips, watched her hesitate and wince slightly before she brought the phone to her ear. He wished he could hear both ends of the conversations. Nyssa’s end sadly lacked information, and by the simple nods and muttered responses, he wouldn’t learn much.

  “Don’t let him hassle you and tell him as much of the truth as you dare. All if you can. He should know that you’re okay. Tell him about our engagement. I know I’d want to know.”

  She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “You’re impossible and you know I can’t tell him. If I do, he’ll fly out here.”

  “That’s what I’d do too. There are no rules for this game.”

  “Solo St. John this is no game,” she whispered hotly, holding the phone away from her ear. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

  “Say you forgot to call and that you’ve been busy. He’ll understand that you’re out here to work. Tell him no matter what, he can not visit.”

  “Well, that will keep him away.”

  “Nyssa,” Solo tried again, “I think you should learn to relax where old Robert is concerned. You don’t have to live up to his expectations. Remember you’re a valuable, beautiful person in your own right. About work--”

  “Yes? What?”

  Nyssa held the receiver in her lap. Even from where he stood, he could hear old Robert’s voice drone on and on. It made him smile to think Nyssa had forgotten Robert.

  “Hang up, Nyssa. I won’t talk to you when you’ve got another man on hold.”

  “Robert--I’ve got to go now. It’s an emergency.” She set the phone down softly.

  He began to appreciate his grandmother’s idea of a romantic dinner, and he had absolutely nothing against Vanytha Harrington wearing his ring. In fact, he liked the idea.

  “Listen,” he said, “we’re not going to work tonight. I’ve worn you out needlessly and we need a vacation.”

  “Not work? But--”

  “Hush. Now, I know the sooner we finish here, the sooner you can get back to town and your fiancé. But we can’t work nonstop because you’re exhausted, and we’ve a lot to talk about, plans to make.”

  “Solo, don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Do you want to fly back to Bend a married couple and have to answer your fiancé's questions?”

  “Heavens, no!” She shuddered, and Solo took that to mean she would go along with him tonight and discuss the arrangements. Negotiations that would make everyone happy, if that were possible, which he sincerely doubted it was.

  “I’m fixing you dinner and you’re going to relax.”

  ***

  Considering he was stuck in Alaska, in the wilderness, he’d done a good job of setting up a romantic dinner. At least the chili was hot and the bread fresh.

  He’d had to dig deep into his supplies to find a nice bottle of wine, a Riesling which didn’t go very well with the chili but would have to do. And did it matter that the wine glasses were actually coffee mugs? He hoped not.

  The long-stemmed red roses his grandmother brought for them were in a tea pot on the center of the kitchen table, looking slightly disabled but smelling--rosy.

  Nyssa wouldn’t laugh but this was comical. No, Nyssa was far too sensitive to other people’s feelings to laugh but she might cry.

  Solo decided to get rid of the flowers and the wine but stopped when he saw the ring box. This meant so much to his grandmother, the romance, the courting. If she could see this travesty, she’d swear and his grandmother never swore.

  Such a ragged looking table but it did have a rough kind of charm. Perhaps this wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

  He lit the only candles he could find in the cabin. They were short and fat, far from romantic yet they fit. And they did give off a warm glow that lightened his spirits and gave him a strange kind of hope for the future.

  The screen door creaked open and he could hear the hesitant tread of her footsteps across the living room floor.

  “Solo? What’s going on?” she asked.

  The mood called for warmth, he realized, and for the first time in a few hours he felt satisfied. When she stepped into the kitchen, she looked wonderful. The fatigue that had settled around her eyes was gone, and he knew the walk had done her a world of good.

  “Nothing--at least,” he felt tongue tied and foolish again--like a teenager with his first love. How on earth did he tell her the dinner was supposed to soften her up so he could give her his great-grandmother’s ring? “You deserve this. I wanted you to relax.” Solo moved closer to help her with her jacket, but she stiffened the instant he touched her. “Nyssa, what’s wrong?”

  “You surprised me.” Her voice trembled.

  Nyssa had the most beguiling eyes--a come hither look. Her eyes were a summer blue. They matched the color of the sky, and they sparkled, reminding him that beneath the surface of this prim and proper lady was a woman who wanted fun in her life and more often than not had something devilishly wicked on her mind.

  She was dressed in semi-short navy cutoffs, a soft shell tucked into them at the waist, very casual, outdoorsy. Even here, in the almost dark room, she looked mischievous. With candle glow outlining her figure, bringing out the rosy hue to her cheeks, and the soft berry color of her lips, she was beautiful.

  He touched her elbow with every intent to guide her to her chair. She appeared startled, frightened, so unlike the way she usually looked at him, so different from their friendly relationship.

  He needed to kiss her yet it took all his restraint not to.

  All he had to do was slide his hand down to the small of her back and pull her towards him. If he did, he could hold her, bring his mouth to hers, and he could lose himself in all that was so fine and good about Nyssa.

  He needed her. Solo couldn’t ever remember desiring anyone so much or with such intensity.

  No matter how often this mysterious magnetism between them escalated, he was determined to rid himself of the feeling. How could he look at his pal and feel as though the rug had been pulled from his feet? How could he desire her so completely?

  He could not surrender to his baser instincts. Not with Nyssa.

  Immediately, he stepped away, waving her to a chair. Under cover of rearranging the pottery dishes, he tried to regain his balance and slow his rapid heart rate.

  “What are you cooking?” she asked.

  “Chili.”

  “That sounds good.”

  Stiff and formal--this was not his intention. She was supposed to relax before they ate, before he gave her the ring. The atmosphere was all wrong. He knew it. She knew it.

  “Can I help?”

  He laughed self-consciously, his mind wandering again. “No.”

  Damn. How had he let things get so bad? Smothering? This wasn’t at all typical of his relationship with her. Until now. Until he wanted to make things romantic, until he wanted to impress her.

  For some reason, she suddenly didn’t look as rattled as he felt. She sat down and waited for him as if nothing were wrong, or different.

  The steaming bowls of chili sat in front of them, and he cut the bread for her before he handed her a piece. He swirled his spoon around in his bowl then tapped the handle a few times on the rim.

  “Are we going out tonight?” she asked.

  A simple question but he couldn’t think of an answer. Of course they were going out. He had a deadline to meet and
this engagement could not stop his work, but they could enjoy the dinner. “Yes,” he said. But then he remembered telling her the opposite.

  “We need to hurry, don’t we?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  Her spoon stopped half-way to her mouth. “Is something wrong?”

  Their gazes collided as he looked up and into the soft blue of her eyes. He wished he could read her mind, wished he’d taken more time to talk with Nyssa years ago so he’d better understand her now.

  “How is your chili?” he asked, when nothing better to say entered his head. Solo cleared his throat as the spoon Nyssa had held in check only a few moments ago reached her mouth.

  “Hmm--” She licked her lips. “There has to be something wrong.”

  “No. It’s just that I feel a little awkward. I wanted to celebrate.”

  “Celebrate?”

  “Yes, well, we made it through the day. Grandmother looks well, and I thought that since we’re officially engaged--”

  “In the eyes of your grandparents.”

  “Well, yes. But it is official to them and we have to act as if it’s the real thing.”

  “You’re not making sense, Solo St. John.”

  She cocked her head and a few wispy strands of hair fell from their pins.

  “Nyssa, I want you to wear my ring.” Solo placed the box in her hand and watched as she opened it. “Grandmother and I discussed this. She gave me her mother’s engagement ring and made me promise I would give it to you. If you don’t wear this, she is going to ask questions.”

  Nyssa looked horrified. A lone tear slid down her cheek and she let the box fall to the floor. In slow motion, she stood, her eyes blank. In another instant she was gone, dashing wildly through the cabin into the night.

  Blindsided, Solo sat frozen for a moment. He heard the sound of the front door bang shut, the rapid steps of tennis shoes pound on the porch, and the rain against the rooftop. Strange, he’d been so caught up in the celebration he hadn’t thought of the weather.

  Automatically, he bent down and retrieved the box.

  Nyssa was outside in the dark and in the rain. He shot from his chair and dashed after her. Once outside Solo paused in mid-stride, his attention riveted, and his senses honed to every sound.

  The night was so dark and so cold. His heart beat louder than the storm overhead. Sweat blended with the rivers of water that streamed across his face and neck.

  He could hear nothing.

  Too many minutes passed. Unexpectedly, she stood in front of him, trembling. Her hair was plastered to her scalp her clothes to her body. His breath caught in the back of his throat and still they stood motionless, staring at each other.

  Finally, she said, “I’m cold.”

  The spell shattered. Solo came to his senses, racing to her before she blended with the rain. He swept her into his arms then headed for the cabin and the bathroom in the back.

  “We have to get you out of these clothes.”

  “You too.” Her voice quivered while her body trembled, wracked with shudders. “I’m sorry.”

  “Here, let me help,” he said when it became apparent her fingers were so numb she couldn’t get her clothes off. He pushed aside her hands and fumbled with the endless buttons and their tiny button holes.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He made her sit on the rim of the tub he’d already begun to fill. Her shirt fell to the floor in a wet, soggy heap, his on top of it. He kept his eyes fixed on the stream of water pouring from the faucet, anywhere but the places where he wanted to look. A second later he had the heater turned up full blast.

  She tried to stand but when she did, she brushed against him.

  “Nyssa--” He wanted to warn her off and then again he didn’t. With one hand on his chest, she steadied herself. He pulled the knob for the shower.

  “You’re so cold,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.

  “I’m boiling,” he said gruffly.

  He brushed her cheekbone with his fingertip. His eyes riveted on hers and he saw a soft innocence in their depths, warring with fires so hot he could barely breathe. Steam from rose from the water in tub, surrounding them both in an unearthly picture.

  “Get in the shower, Nyssa.” He kicked off his shoes then worked on hers.

  “You too.”

  The image of the two them naked in the shower left him breathless. He closed his eyes.

  “I will. I will.” With forced control, he swept her into his arms and climbed into the tub. He held her for a few seconds letting the heat of the water soak through his clothes to his flesh. All he meant to do was make sure she stayed warm, but here she was in his arms, and he knew neither of them would go anywhere.

  He set her on her feet and then his lips met hers.

  The kiss was hard and furious and it represented all the desire he’d felt for her over the last few weeks--years. All the crazy, wild emotions that had swept through him since he’d kissed her that first time. And by all the saints if he wasn’t imagining this, she kissed him back.

  He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, once, twice then she opened for him, and he slipped inside. She tasted like the chili, hot and delectable.

  She made delicious little noises in the back of her throat, pressing her body into his, molding every luscious curve to fit against him.

  He struggled with his clothes, the buttons, the zippers, still kissing her, unable to let go of her for the few precious seconds it would take to disrobe. Water streamed over them, between them.

  With a silent curse directed at himself, he tugged on the buttons of her jeans--his jeans then pushed at both until he wore only his boxer shorts, and she her silk camisole and bikini underwear. Molded together beneath the shower like that, enveloping himself with Nyssa--his kiss was hard and demanding and the most exhilarating thing he’d ever done.

  He trailed kisses across her cheeks down her neck then back up to her ear. She made those incredibly sexy noises again, pulling him closer at the same time. With her little pink tongue, she licked drops of water off his chest.

  Gasping for air, he moved away from her then brought her close again. Solo held her head against his chest, his other hand at the small of her back. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to be this way with Nyssa. If he didn’t stop now, he was about to ruin the best relationship he’d ever known.

  “Nyssa.”

  “What,” she said, breathless then found another droplet of water to lick.

  “Nyssa, we have to stop.”

  She froze in his arms. “Solo?”

  He felt awful, worse than awful. In those few event-filled seconds she withdrew from him, closing herself off. He knew he’d lost something infinitely precious, and he wanted to retrieve the treasure yet he didn’t know how.