Pippa's Rescue

by JJ Keller

  “What’s your friend’s name?” She broke a piece of twig from a nearby tree. Pine scented the air and a sappy love song played through his mind.

  He stared at her, concentrating on her eyes to see a sign of truth or deceit when she answered. “Harrison Lombard.”

  She looked to the left for several moments. “I don’t recall the name. When we get back to the house you can point him out in the group photo. Or perhaps you have an image of him on your cell?”

  “I don’t. I lost my cell and a front tooth during my last mission. Actually I don’t have any photos at all with me.” He dug around in his pocket. “I’ve a new phone though, and I’ll take one of my little daisy.”

  Wind blew a strand of hair into her face. “Don’t. I’m sweaty and without makeup.” She tucked the black piece around an ear.

  His heart caught. The woman didn’t realize her beauty. Free of cosmetics, she could be a cover girl on a fashion magazine. “Just one, so I can say I used the phone’s feature.” He coaxed, “Say cheese, Pippa.”

  Deep South nudged her back. She smiled and leaned against her horse. The love they felt for each other was evident in her soft smile and his gentle nuzzling. Basil pressed the button and snapped the perfect picture of her. Her image would keep him warm on the many cold nights to come as he tracked his friend’s killer.

  “You’ve got your photograph. Come”—she tapped the sawn-off tree trunk beside her—“have a seat.”

  “Ah, love, if I sit I will not be able to get back on the hag.”

  Buttercup grunted. Deep South whinnied in response. Giggles came from Pippa, making her all the more attractive and innocent.

  “Come, it’s a warm fall day, no rain so the ground is dry. Let’s pick a spot.”

  “Fine.” A grin lit her face and warmed her eyes as their gazes met. “Just for a couple of minutes because I have a full schedule.”

  He held out his hand. She took hold, and he pulled her to her feet. Holding onto her, he led her to a grassy patch littered with pine needles away from the trees. A ripple of joy rushed through him. Phillipa was indeed the light in his dark world.

  Settled on the fragrant grass, he placed one hand behind his head and the other between them, their shoulders touched. She sighed and nestled beside him. Her hand rested mere inches from his, and he considered brushing her knuckles, but hesitated. She chilled for the first time since he’d met her. The woman was constantly charged. Her brisk pace from sunrise to sunset had to be exhausting. He rarely saw her at night. A couple of evenings she had left dressed in formal garb. Thankfully he didn’t see banker-boy in attendance.

  He admired her dedication to the animals she rescued and the people who worked with her. His mum led a score of volunteers for a hospital near Worcester, and they had not always been dependable. Yet, Pippa had her sparse staff returning day after day. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  She covered a yawn. “What is?”

  “Resting and not worrying or feeling the nip of obligations.” He touched her hand, in hope she wouldn’t pull away.

  “I’ve always obligations and worries, but it is nice to simply lie under the sun on a lazy fall day.” She kept her hand resting in his. Trust was building between them and he hated like hell to do anything to disrupt that feeling, but he would begin to poke around trying to find Harry.

  Several minutes passed, her eyes were closed and he wanted to shut his, but his mind kept wrapping around the fact he could be going crazy. Or he was being haunted. Why was the tall blonde chick constantly around him? Why had she agreed to stay at the ranch, when she’d kept in his pocket since he’d met her? The most disturbing thought, why couldn’t others see her?

  “Umm. Sun and no saddle biting into my rear, the only thing better would be to…” He turned to his side. She smiled, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the probable pain he’d feel for several hours or in anticipation of what he planned to say. “Call in my favor.”

  Her pink tongue flicked over her lips. “Do you think you can handle it?”

  Interpreting her words as an invitation, a second later his body covered hers. His arms cupped her head. Their chests touched. Her nipples poked through his T-shirt. His Johnson edged toward the junction of her thighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Stop.”

  He raised his hips from hers. “Sorry. I misread—”

  “No, don’t stop that, just the adoration.” She wrapped her arms tight around his neck and pulled him.

  “Ah.” Relief flooded him and he kissed her, light little nibbles around the edges of her lips. Basil stroked her hair. “I’m so into you.”

  “And I’m into you.” One leg wrapped around him, she pressed her hips against his.

  Dry humping wouldn’t satisfy him, but he’d accept what was offered. He kissed her, until he coaxed a moan from her. Deep tongue thrusts joined them. He leveled one arm on the ground and molded his other to her breasts. Her hips took on the rhythm of their tongues and her fingers dug into his rear, pressing him closer.

  Losing their lip connection, he trailed his mouth along her neck tugging her blouse and then her bra until he reached one of her nipples. She lowered her hips. His fully engorged cock slid between her thighs. She moved her hands to his back, pressing and kneading.

  “Feels good.”

  ****

  “Too many clothes.” Excitement flowed through her. She hadn’t experienced this magnitude of love since she saw Deep South for the first time.

  She tugged his T-shirt. He rolled to the side, flipped the cotton over his head, and went to work on her vest. She toed off her boots. A half-turn and she gripped his belt buckle. Releasing the slip of leather, she lifted so he could remove her jeans. He dragged the panties off with her jeans. Next went her top. He slid his khakis to his knees. Slow, with the backs of his fingers grazing the sides of her breasts. He sighed while nuzzling her neck. His hot breath sent tingles along her arm.

  His lips found hers again, and his index finger found her moist warm place. Her muscles contracted, invited him deeper. Slippery wet, titillating, she heated.

  She couldn’t wait longer, she needed him and only him. “Now,” she whispered.

  He removed his finger and drove home, a gentle thrust. Her legs gripped his backside. A long drawn out sigh slipped from her mouth.

  Cheeks heating, her desire grew. They were a mare and a stallion, only becoming complete when they were bound. Would he feel the same way about her?

  Pulling out to the edge, he found her G-spot. Oh God he knew how to work it. His tongue laved her nipple. He nudged and caressed. Elbows on the ground, he held her head between his recently callused hands. He kissed her, moving his lips slowly against her, then added tongue. She gyrated under him. He entered her again. She spread her legs wide inviting him to go deeper. An orgasm overpowered her, and in turn he spilled his seed.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. So much sadness had bombarded her life in the last few months, but now rolls of happiness flooded her by being with Basil—he rescued her.

  Chapter 8

  Darkness surrounded him. Being in Wilson’s childhood bedroom wouldn’t provide solace or an inkling of the man’s whereabouts. Basil stared at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do next. Should he apply pressure to Pippa in order to locate her brother? Shards of lights sprinkled the white walls. He shot forward to sit on the edge of the chair.

  Skogul’s body formed from tiny fragments into a unified whole. The flash of light freaked him. His gaze went from her smirk to the rest of her body. Wafts of lavender and frankincense or sage or something herbal surrounded the bed where she appeared. She was wearing a dress, matching the description of the one Pippa mentioned as missing several hours ago, and the black thigh-high boots from her previous attire.

  Using the glow, he reached across the table and turned on the lamp. “Aren’t ghosts supposed to stay with the subject they’re haunting?”

  Her head jerked toward his voice and her eyes narrowed to
small slits. “Why are you awake?” She glanced at the clock. “You’ll be scooping poop in two hours.” She sauntered to the side of the bed and reached under, extracting a plastic bag. “I’m not a spy and I’m certainly not hunting you, because I’ve already found you.”

  Christ, what if Mattie or Pippa found the large bag, with a zipper and department store logo, under the bed in his room? The apparition had deliberately changed the meaning of his comment. Was she the ghost of a quick screw-and-leave from his younger years? All the warnings from Harry through the years about loving and leaving women rang through Basil’s head.

  He decided to test his friend’s theory on the illusion in front of him and lifted the .45 MEU. Civilians didn’t have ownership of the type of pistol, but he did and the Marines allowed it. “If you don’t answer my question, soon you’ll be a true phantom instead of whatever you’re supposed to be.”

  She chuckled and unzipped the white, almost iridescent dress hugging her form. No other clothing clad her ripped body beneath the borrowed dress. The skirt caught on her boots as she slid the shiny fabric over her hips. “What does sap mean?”

  Despite her beauty his throat didn’t dry out as he’d expect. “Gullible. Someone who is easily fooled. Don’t tear the dress.”

  Skogul huffed. “When did you become such a girl?” She did, however, place the dress on a hanger and slide the gown into the plastic bag.

  He sighed, wondering how much longer this trickery would last. Maybe the darkness had taken on a new form, by the name of Skogul. “And how is it you’d know what kind of person I am?”

  She frowned, as if she’d said too much. It would be interesting to find out how easily lies came from her perfect pouty lips. “You know me, Basil. I’m Skogul, a quick screw from your past.”

  Had she read his mind? She must have divined his thoughts because, vague past or not, he’d remember a hot broad of this caliber. He pulled the slide on the gun, felt the memory bump on the pistol. She glided around the bed and skimmed over his legs, while taking the revolver from his hand. “We met before, when you and Harrison were eating at the little Mexican restaurant near his parents’ house. Remember?”

  Because she’d mentioned Harry, he didn’t protest when she took the weapon and placed it on the table. She acted quite comfortable around a pistol. If she knew Harry, and she’d yet to prove that, then she might know the location of his...Basil swallowed the horrible thought. “No, I don’t remember. Where exactly? What were we eating?”

  She should know. Basil always ate the same Mexican food; he never deviated.

  “Harrison’s home town, two hours north of here. He had a burrito and you, my lover, nachos. But you enjoyed the margaritas the most. Umm, salty and sweet. Citrus with a buzz.” She sat fully on his lap, her bare breasts in his face.

  Any given day he’d enjoy a free lap dance, but not today. Not after making love to Pippa. This felt dirty and wrong. He placed his hands under Skogul’s arms, trying not to touch boob. “I’m not your lover, never have been.”

  A loud knock and the squeal of the door opening brought him upright. Skogul fell flat onto the hardwood floor.

  “Basil?” Pippa, dressed in a light pink barely-there tank and shorts that showed her butt cheeks underneath, stood sideways in the doorway, half-in and half-out. The atrium chandelier, cranked up to full power, created shadows in the background.

  “Something wrong?” He didn’t mean to growl, but such was his reaction. A naked woman trying to ride him followed by the one he desired appearing at his door, nearly naked, made him painfully porn-star stiff.

  “I thought I heard talking and something else.” Her chest heaved, as if she’d run across the room. “Someone’s here. An intruder.”

  You’ve got that right. Basil glanced at Skogul, slowly rising, her back to Pippa. He wasn’t sure if he should cover his phantom with the blanket at the end of the bed or pretend she wasn’t there. He glanced at Pippa. She hadn’t seen the moving target? Only fright remained in her eyes and that fear brought out the knight-errant in him.

  “Don’t worry, lover, I’ve got your back,” Skogul said. Covers sliding against sheets sounded as loud as a freight train.

  “Pippa.” He stomped toward her, just in case the noise behind him needed to be masked. “I’m sure it was nothing. Come with me and”—he wrapped his arm around her waist urging her into the living room—“we’ll search under the beds and in the closets together.”

  “I’m not a child,” Pippa said, her tone filled with offense.

  “No, darlin’, you certainly are all woman.” Basil moved closer to her, trying to speed her exit, while her soft white skin caused his gut to clench in lust agony.

  “I heard talking. Were you on the phone?” Pippa glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t you need your gun?”

  “No.” He had to move fast, before she saw the dress bag. “You forget I’m with Special Ops. I can take down the strongest—even evil forces lurking in the bedroom wardrobe.”

  Skogul’s laugher rang clear, even as he kicked the door shut.

  ****

  Pippa tried to think of a way to postpone Basil from returning to his room. Their search through the house came out empty. Had she dressed in outdoor clothing, she would have suggested a little promenade. They’d ended their tour in her bedroom. How hard could it be to circle the queen-sized bed, with the creamy yellow sheets pulled down, and say Join me? “It’s rather late. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  Chicken! she scolded herself. How quickly courage had abandoned her.

  Basil hovered near the door. Arms crossed pulled the thin, tight tee, outlining the outrageous muscles of his chest. Part of the hem stuck in the waist band. He wasn’t eyeing the unmade bed either. “Yes, maybe the noise you heard was just electrical wires hitting the side of the house.”

  She twisted the edge of her tank. Coyness and assertiveness she’d forsaken to practice in her younger days. Instead she learned the basics of ranching and, after her father passed and David went overseas, the details of managing a farm. Too bad. She could use some womanly wiles right about now. “Yes. It could have been.”

  He stalked her with slow, deliberate steps, backing her into the wall beside the door frame. He pried her fingers from her now frayed top. “Why are you nervous? I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Guilt,” she whispered.

  “Excuse me?”

  She stared at the dark wood floor wishing the floorboards would disappear, and she’d be sucked into the hole. “I feel guilty about this afternoon. I’ve never done anything like that and I’m not as loose as I’m sure I appeared.”

  He laughed. Big hearty bellows.

  What the hell? She jerked and tried to step away from his deliciously fragrant body, but was pinned against the wall. If she slid a few steps to the side she could shove him and his spicy cologne through the doorway and lock the damn thing, but the burning in her soul urged her otherwise. She enjoyed his muscled weight pressing alongside hers.

  As skilled as a ballet dancer, he reached around her and gently shut the door. His muscular back flattened to the wood frame. “I’m sorry. My laughter was rude. I’m the one who should apologize. Couldn’t sleep thinking about my lack of finesse.”

  He took her hands into his. Sincerity was evident in his eyes, but Special Ops were taught to deceive the enemy. Should she trust him? “Lack of finesse?”

  His fingers caressed her palms. “Yes. You’d think I was a youngster by rushing into love…making. I wanted to take my time, explore and excite you, but you’re so beautiful, bright, and bold. I’d built the moment so much before we got there—climax came immediately.”

  Good God, how embarrassing. She’d never had this honest of a conversation regarding sex, and it had to be with him. A man she’d started to adore. She glanced at the bed. His moves were excellent the first time they came together. Could she handle Basil with finesse? “Want to try again?”

  He cradled h
er head in his hands, drawing her mouth to his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  He possessed exceptional kissing skills. Slow exploration, simmer, then hot rapid-fire tongue and nipping, addictive and sexy.

  “I know a guy’s always supposed to be prepared but I don’t have any condoms.” His sheepish grin melted her core. “You wouldn’t happen to have some, do you?” His hard shovel-calloused hand slid under her top, creating a new tingle as he caressed her breast.

  “No,” she whispered. “I don’t usually have men stay overnight.”

  “Umm.” His lips moved to the sensitive area of her neck, near her ear. The tingles became an outright riot of desire.

  She exhaled and placed her hands on his shoulders. “As much as I want you, I’m not much of a risk taker.”

  He kissed her, a sweet simple peck, then looked toward the door. Was he anxious to get back to his room? Facing her again, he stroked the side of her face. “I’ll get some condoms tomorrow. I’ll leave, so you can rest.”

  “Would you stay with me?”

  Chapter 9

  Basil squinted at the sunlight pouring into Pippa’s bedroom. She’d opened the curtains last night when she sought her intruder, and he hadn’t bothered to close them. Her cell phone bleeped. As she reached for the device, he stroked her backside. She cat-backed and murmured a greeting into the rectangle.

  Pain pulsating through his groin and cock made him inhale. He’d held her through the night and as much as he wanted to make love to her, he remained a gentleman and didn’t push her into anything she’d regret. However, today was a new day and Pippa’s warm, shapely body next to his made him hurt. Perhaps together they could find a solution to ease the agony.

  “What?” Pippa sat upright and dragged the covers off. “Who was there yesterday?” She ran to her dresser, grabbed the trousers and a shirt which had been carefully folded on top, and laid the mobile on the wood surface while continuing to talk into the phone. “The new guy, the one Doc’s interviewing?”