by Ruth Langan
She lifted a hand to brush the hair from his forehead. “You didn’t call me that a few minutes ago.”
“I didn’t?” He frowned, trying to remember. He felt as if he’d survived an earthquake—the ground had definitely shuddered. “What did I call you?”
“Ciara. It was the first time you’ve ever spoken my name.”
“Ciara.” He whispered it like a prayer. And realized why for so long he hadn’t been able to say it. “It’s almost too beautiful. Like you.”
She smiled. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Come on. Don’t act so surprised. You have to know what you look like.” When she shook her head, he persisted. “What do you see when you look in a mirror?”
“I see that plain little girl from Kentucky who had few friends and was always wearing hand-me-down clothes.”
She tugged at his heart, in a way she’d never understand, and he could never explain.
He lowered his face and brushed his mouth over hers. Against her lips he murmured, “Then let me tell you what I see.” He rolled to one side, and gathered her into his arms as tenderly as if she were that sad little girl she’d described. He cradled her against his chest and stroked, soothed. Pressing his lips to her eyelids, he said, “I see eyes that, when they’re glowing with happiness, could melt glaciers.” His voice warmed with unspoken laughter. “And when they’re iced with fury could freeze the sun.”
“Ah. The old evil eye. It’s a look I’ve perfected over the years. I’m glad you’ve noticed.”
“You bet I have.” He dropped a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “I see a nose that’s cute as a button, but can be lifted higher in the air than a proper Boston matron when someone crosses swords with you.”
“I don’t lift my—”
“Not yet, Hollywood. It’s not your turn to talk.” He brushed a light kiss over her lips. “I see a mouth that’s full and generous. Really quite kissable. And quick to curve with laughter. It can also turn into the most delightful pout. But, when fighting tears, it trembles ever so slightly.”
“My lips don’t—”
He kissed her into silence. “They tremble. And it breaks my heart.” He ran a finger over her chin. “You have a jaw that juts like a boxer’s when you’re ready to fight. Which isn’t often, thank heavens.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth, taking the time to kiss each finger, then pressed his lips to her palm. “I see hands that aren’t afraid to get dirty for the sake of hard work. Especially if that hard work means an easier life for the people who depend on you. Your mother and brothers are very fortunate to have someone like you looking out for them.”
“Oh, Jace.” The gesture was so unexpectedly tender, it had her catching her breath on a sigh. She pressed her forehead to his and took a moment to compose her thoughts. Then she wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself firmly against the length of him. “How do you know me so well?”
“I’ve spent a lot of time watching you, Hollywood. Which is a pretty pleasant task, considering how easy you are to look at.”
“I just don’t think anybody’s ever seen through my defenses before. Or ever seen me in quite the way you do.”
“Good. I don’t think I want anyone else seeing you like this. Because where you’re concerned, I think I could become a very jealous lover.”
“Lover. Umm. I like that word.”
“Yeah. I kind of like it myself.” He ran a hand possessively along her spine, amazed that he was fully aroused once more. How could it be possible to want her again so soon? He had thought that once they got the tension out of the way, things could become more relaxed between them. But if anything, he wanted her more. Once would never be enough where Ciara was concerned, he realized. She was the kind of woman a man would want again and again. She could become a habit. An addiction.
“I’d like to think I’m seeing you in a way nobody else ever has or ever will.”
She could feel his physical response and was thrilled and a little awed by it. Drunk with power, she ran slow, lazy kisses along his throat, then lower, across his chest and stomach, then lower still, until she heard his moan of pleasure.
She gave a little laugh of delight. “Maybe it’s time to reveal a few more of my deep, dark secrets.”
“Careful, Hollywood. You show me too much too soon, I may go into cardiac arrest. Didn’t your mother ever tell you it wasn’t nice to tease a man like this?”
“Tease? Oh, I intend to do a whole lot more than tease.”
“Stop. I can’t take much more.”
But she wasn’t listening. She was already busy driving them both far beyond madness.
“Hungry?” Jace drew a cover over both of them to ward off the chill. Sometime during the night he had carried her to the sofa, where they lay in a tangle of arms and legs and twisted blankets. Though it was barely wide enough for one, they managed to snuggle together, perfectly content with the arrangement.
“What do you have in mind?”
He shrugged lazily and lifted a lock of hair from her eyes. “I don’t know.” He allowed the strands to sift through his fingers, thinking how soft they felt. Softer than silk. In fact, everything about her was soft. And warm. And exotic. “But I noticed that you hardly ate any of your dinner.”
“I think I was too troubled to eat.”
“What was troubling you?”
She laughed. “I don’t remember. The minute you kissed me, I forgot everything. Including my name.”
He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You’ve just described what happened to me. I was really worried about my reaction. Now I’m glad to know I’m not alone in this senility.”
He glanced idly toward the hot coals that gleamed in the fireplace. “I was going to surprise you with a special dessert. But now it’s ruined.”
“You were?” She snuggled closer, absorbing his warmth. “What was it?”
“Baked apples. Now they’re a couple of blackened cinders.”
“Sorry to spoil your surprise. How about some coffee? Is there any left?”
He shook his head. “It all boiled away. I could make a fresh pot.”
“No.” She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t leave me. I don’t need anything. Just you.”
“Umm. I like the sound of that.” He loved the way the gentle curves of her body fit so perfectly against him. Like the missing pieces of a puzzle. Complete. He felt complete.
The thought startled him. Now where had that come from? He’d never before needed anyone to make him feel complete. Being alone didn’t equal loneliness. All his life he’d been content to be a loner. A man who could pull his own weight, see to his own needs. Leave when he wanted to. Stay if it suited him. Live the way he wanted. He felt a sudden flash of alarm, then took a deep breath and told himself to relax. This changed nothing. They were just…good together.
Annoyed with the direction of his thoughts, he started to draw away. “Maybe I’d better add another log to the fire.”
“No need. I’ll warm you.” She drew him close and pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat.
Against her mouth she could feel his pulse jump, and then begin to race like a runaway freight train. “My, my, Mr. Lockhart. A bit nervous, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I’m not used to having someone kiss my neck. It tickles.”
“Really? You mean—” she already had her fingers crawling over him, teasing his chin, his neck, his chest “—you’re ticklish?”
“Knock it off, Hollywood. Don’t even think about—”
With a devilish laugh she rolled slightly, straddling him, and bent low to press kisses across his throat, along his shoulder, down his collarbone. Her hair swirled forward, teasing his chest. “What else aren’t you used to? Where else are you ticklish?”
He grabbed a handful of her hair and lifted her head. “Careful, Hollywood. This could lead to all kinds of dangerous things.”
“Ooh. I just love a dangerous man.” She laug
hed and began to move over him, until, with a moan, he caught her roughly by the arms. In the blink of an eye he rolled them both over and began savagely devouring her mouth.
The laughter died in her throat as the kiss deepened, and his hands—those quick, clever hands—began to work their magic.
His eyes were hot and fierce as they locked on hers. “What is it about you? What the hell have you done to me?”
“I think it’s something we’ve done to each other. Whatever it is, I don’t want it to end.”
“Yeah. Me neither.”
And then he was taking her down, down once more into that dark, murky world of unleashed passion and desire. A world they had only begun to explore.
Jace lay watching Ciara as she slept in his arms. He loved looking at her. The way her lashes cast spikey shadows on her cheeks. The way her lips pursed, as though remembering his kiss even in sleep.
He leaned close, studying her flawless skin, and felt a hitch around his heart. She was quite simply the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. If he had a lifetime, he would never grow tired of looking at her.
If he had a lifetime. What a foolish thought. They had, at best, a couple of days. Then both of them would go their separate ways.
The thought brought a shaft of unexpected pain. In his whole life he’d never been bothered by goodbyes. In fact, leaving had always meant the start of a new adventure. Something he’d always anticipated more than a kid at Christmas. So why was he letting this get to him? Why was he agonizing over the lack of time? Why couldn’t he accept this as merely another new thing to be savored, enjoyed, before moving on with his life?
Ciara’s lashes fluttered open. She studied him a moment before saying, “Regrets?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Then why this?” She touched a finger to the frown line between his brows. “Do I make you so unhappy?”
“Of course not. It isn’t you. It was just a thought.”
“Not a very happy one, from the way you look.”
He shook his head, wishing he could dispel the mood that had begun to set in. “No. Not a happy thought.”
“Maybe this will help.” She twined her arms around his neck and drew him down for a long, slow kiss. “Mmm. Good morning, Jace.”
“’Morning, Hollywood.” He could already feel the heat beginning. The slow gradual simmer that began deep inside, then radiated upward to his loins, then pulsed through his veins until the blood in them flowed like lava. It was becoming a familiar ritual.
All through the night they had loved, then slept, then loved again. Each time it had been different. At times hot, furious, impatient, with all the frenzy of a summer storm. Other times slow and easy, like old lovers who knew each other’s bodies as intimately as their own, and who had all the time in the world to enjoy them.
“Did that help?” she whispered.
“Oh, yeah. The unhappy thought is completely wiped from my mind.” He plunged his hands into her hair and stared into her eyes. “The only problem is, now I have a new thought.”
“Does it make you sad?”
He shook his head and brushed his mouth lightly over hers. “It just makes me hungry.”
“There you go again. A man and his stomach. Always thinking about food.”
“I wasn’t talking about that kind of hunger.” He nuzzled her lips, then the corner of her mouth.
“Oh.” She brightened. “The other kind. The good kind.”
“Yeah.” He traced the outline of her lips with his tongue until she sighed and opened her mouth for him. “The best kind.”
“You have a very devious mind, Jace Lockhart. I like the way you think.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. Because my brain has affected other parts of my anatomy.”
“I’ve heard it said that men think with—other parts of their anatomy.”
He chuckled, low and deep in his throat. “So, would you like to see what I’m thinking?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but he swallowed her words with a kiss so filled with hunger that it startled them both. And then he took her on a long, slow journey, determined to make whatever time they had together as satisfying, as perfect, as possible.
Sunlight stabbed at Ciara’s closed lids. She yawned, stretched, then watched as Jace, naked, fed logs to the dying fire. He had such a beautiful body. She loved watching the play of muscle across his shoulders as he lifted each log and set it just so, building the fire with the same quiet competence that he did everything else.
“Good morning,” she called. “I can’t believe I slept this late.”
“’Morning, sleepyhead.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We both slept in. The thing that finally woke me was the cold.” He turned, started toward her. “I’m afraid I was so busy with…other things, I neglected my duty and let the fire burn down to practically nothing but ashes.”
“That’s all right. I had my love to keep me—” The words died in her throat as she caught sight of the long, puckered scar that ran from his hip to his ankle. She sat up and covered her mouth with her hand, but not before she let out a cry. “Oh, Jace. How did you…?” She saw him grimace, and instantly regretted her reaction.
She struggled to keep her voice emotionless. “I’m sorry. That was careless of me. It’s just that I didn’t have a chance to see your scar in the dark. I guess this is a souvenir of the bombing?”
He nodded.
She caught his hands and drew him down beside her. “It looks like it must have been horribly painful.”
He rubbed his leg, feeling the ever-present ache. “The doctors have done all they can. They said I just have to be patient and give it some time.”
“How bad was it?”
He shrugged. “Severed a few nerves and tendons. There’ll be some permanent numb spots. But at least they saved the leg.”
Her gaze flew to his face. “You mean, you were in danger of losing it?”
He nodded. “It was a possibility. Things looked grim for a while. It took a lot of therapy, but I managed to walk out of the hospital under my own steam. That’s more than I can say for a lot of the other survivors. Some weren’t so lucky.” He wouldn’t look at her. Couldn’t. Because he couldn’t bear the look of horror and revulsion he knew he’d see in her eyes.
“Oh, Jace.”
She shocked him by pressing kisses along the length of the scar. All he could do was watch as she kissed him with such tenderness. Then she drew him close and kissed his scarred cheek, before pressing her mouth to his.
Against his lips she murmured, “I’d give anything if I could take away your pain.”
He clutched her shoulders and drew her a little away, staring into her eyes. “Do you know how incredible you are?”
She blinked. “Why do you say that?”
He shook his head. “You really don’t know, do you?” He let out a long, slow breath. “I’ve been afraid to have you see this. It’s so ugly, most people would be sickened by the sight of it and would have to turn away. But you…you not only look at it, you try to kiss away the hurt.”
“I would if I could.”
For the space of a heartbeat he studied her. Then on a sigh he drew her close and covered her mouth with his in a kiss so hot, so hungry, it robbed her of breath.
“You just did, Ciara.” He laid her down and covered her body with his. And as he pressed kisses to her eyes, her nose, the corner of her mouth, he whispered, “By whatever magic you possess, you’ve managed to do what all the doctors and all the medicines couldn’t. You’ve managed to erase all my pain.”
Ten
“Here. Let me get the door.” Ciara, arms laden with food from the shed, hurried up the steps and nudged open the door for Jace, who trailed behind her carrying an armload of logs.
“I’m starving.” He dropped to his knees on the hearth and piled logs on the burning coals.
“No wonder.” She peeled off her parka and immediately began rummaging through the cupboards. “It�
�s almost time for lunch, and we’re just thinking about breakfast.” She began breaking some eggs into a bowl.
“That’s all right.” He glanced over and gave her a smoldering glance. “I had better things on my mind this morning.”
She laughed. “And I must say, Mr. Lockhart, you have a very inventive mind.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Hollywood.” When the fire was blazing, he hung his parka, then came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. For a moment she paused to lean back into him while he pressed his lips to her neck.
“Why don’t I make the coffee, while you’re scrambling those eggs?”
She shivered. His kisses made her knees go weak. “Good idea.”
Instead, he brought his hands under her sweater and began to move them upward until they covered her breasts. “Maybe I have a better idea.”
Her body reacted instantly to his touch, but she managed a laugh. “That idea kept us on the sofa all morning. Remember?”
“Are you complaining?”
“Complaining? Far from it. But my stomach is. I’m really hungry, Jace.”
“Yeah. Me too. But I thought…” He nibbled her neck. “I thought I’d just feast on you a little longer.”
She sighed. “Any longer and we’ll both starve.”
“All right, spoilsport.” He lowered his hands, and pressed a kiss to her ear. “Guess I’ll make that coffee.”
He sauntered across the room—like a rooster, she thought. She couldn’t help grinning as she finished scrambling the eggs.
“How about the toast?” he called from across the room. “Want me to make some? Or would you prefer more biscuits?”
“Toast is fine.” She carried the skillet to the fire and began gently stirring. “You know, primitive living isn’t all that hard.”
He shot her a look of surprise. “You call this primitive? We have enough firewood to last a year or more. We have cupboards stocked with every conceivable food. We have comfortable beds…” He saw her grin and added, “Okay. We even have a not-so-comfortable floor and a very narrow sofa. But tonight, I promise, we’ll try the bed. And,” he went on, “with the help of our temperamental generator, we even have an occasional warm bath. That’s a far cry from primitive. Just think what our ancestors felt like when they first had to chop the wood, then hunt the game, spin the wool into cloth, sew the clothes, tan the hides, and—”
