He was still chuckling as he grabbed his duffel bag and headed down the trail they’d taken earlier that afternoon to go fishing.
Dara watched him go, coming very close to grabbing her own gear and running to catch up with him. “No,” she told herself, “you’ve played with his fire enough tonight.”
She smiled and looked over at their real fire, which was now a pile of glowing embers. She headed over to their small stash of edibles and eating utensils. It only took a few minutes to find the marshmallows. “Drat. No skewers.” She glanced around. “Sticks. I need sticks.”
She started for the small stand of trees, then noticed the remainders of their dinner—such as it was. “Shoot. Those plates will never come clean now.” Zach had filled a collapsible jug with water from a nearby spring, but she hated to waste it soaking off the hardened chili.
There was, however, a whole lake’s worth of water not two hundred yards away.
After scraping off the worst of it, she stuffed the bowls, spoons, and small cooking pot in the zippered mesh sack Zach had brought. She stopped long enough to wrap a fresh shirt and jeans in a towel, and grab a flashlight before setting off for the lake. Surely, Zach would be finished by the time she got there.
She was about fifty yards away from the water when she heard the music. It was so surprising, she stopped for a moment to listen.
She laughed and closed the remaining distance. As she rounded the last turn, she shouted, “Yo, wild thing, you decent?”
“Yo, wild thing?”
Dara stumbled at the sound of his voice. It was much closer than she’d expected. A second later Zach stepped from the trees to her right, bare-chested and tugging his zipper up.
She wanted to tug it right back down again. Instead she lifted the mesh bag. “A cavewoman’s job is never done. I just wanted to make sure you were through with the tub before I used it as a sink.”
Zach lifted the bag from her hands. “Why didn’t you just use the water in camp?”
“It’ll take a while for this to soften up, and I didn’t want to make you lug more water back from the spring.”
“Well, why don’t I toss this in and tie it to a bush while you take a bath?” He laughed. “Gee, doesn’t this have a Twilight Zone sort of domestic ring to it?”
Dara laughed with him. “I’m not sure I can bathe to The Troggs. You wouldn’t happen to have anything a little less, you know—”
“Earthy?” He stepped closer. “Primal?”
The gleam in his eyes made her step back. “Never mind. I’ll bathe to the frog and cricket chorus.”
“You want me to wait for you?”
Dara was tempted to say the hell with it and ask him to join her. “No. I’m just going to rinse off. The water up here is a bit cold for a moonlight swim.”
“Keep your flashlight on. Just set it on a rock with the beam upward, like a beacon.”
“You got it.”
He turned away, and she thought she heard him say, “Yeah, really, really bad.” But when he looked over his shoulder, he said, “If you’re not back in fifteen, I’m coming after you.”
Dara waved and turned to the lake. His autocratic command should have rankled, but it didn’t. His concern was completely different than the way Dane looked out for her. Different and sort of nice. She could get to liking that kind of concern. The music drifted off as he made his way back to camp, and Dara quickly shed her clothes.
Of course, she thought wickedly, just because I like it doesn’t mean I can’t stay here for eighteen minutes just to get a rise from him.
She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cool mountain air and everything to do with the knowledge that she’d already gotten quite a rise out of him.
She could get to liking that too.
Dara had just slipped a loose-knit sweater over her head when the soft strains of music drifted to her. She bent to roll up her dirty clothes in her towel and run a quick comb through her hair. By the time she straightened, the music had grown loud enough for her to make out the song.
Zach stepped into the clearing and set his small portable boom box on a rock. He walked over to her, took the clothes roll from her hands and set that down too.
He pulled her into his arms. “Dance with me?”
Art Garfunkel sang “I Only Have Eyes For You” into the night, and Dara was swaying even before her arms closed around his neck. She laid her head on his chest. “I thought you were supposed to sing around the campfire.”
“I’m not a very good singer.”
She looked up and smiled. “You admit to not doing something well?”
He pulled her head back to his chest. “Shut up and dance.”
She continued to rock slowly back and forth. “I’m not sure this will be a good substitute for the kids,” she said, long moments later, her words getting softer as the music and the feel of Zach in her arms worked their magic.
“Scotty can sing with the kids. He’s great.”
He pulled her hips closer to his, and Dara swallowed a moan. “So, this isn’t part of the scheduled trip then?”
“No,” he whispered roughly, “this is because I couldn’t stand not having you in my arms again tonight.”
NINE
Dara slipped her arms from his neck and wrapped them around his waist. Hugging him as tightly as he hugged her, she gave up all pretense of talk and just let Zach and the music invade her body and soul.
The last strains of the song echoed out over the water, and Zach halted their dance. Lifting her chin up, he lowered his head very slowly.
“It’s true, you know.”
“What’s true?” she whispered, barely able to form the words for wanting his mouth on hers.
“The song. It’s a beautiful star-filled, moonlit night. And I can’t take my eyes off you.”
Dara couldn’t wait. She lifted on tiptoe and closed the distance between her lips and his. He held back just enough that she slid her arms from his waist and pulled his head down. She poured everything she felt into that kiss; her desire for him, her growing need to be with him all the time, her fear that this was wrong, her apprehension that in the end it was going to be more painful than she could stand.
Whether because Zach sensed her turmoil, or was simply feeling it, too, he pulled away and rested his forehead on hers before it got out of control.
For a long moment, the only sound was that of their shallow breathing. Then Zach said, “You okay?”
After a slight pause, she answered. “No. You?”
He pulled her into a fierce hug which she returned. “I can’t decide what I am right now.”
Dara knew they needed some space, and some time. Funny, she’d never have thought the great outdoors could be so incredibly intimate.
The thought brought a much-needed smile to her face and the strength to step out of his arms. “You hungry?”
Zach groaned. “Bad double entendre, Dart.”
She turned and grabbed her towel roll as Zach stepped over and snagged the mesh net from the bush and scooped up the boom box.
“There is one camping tradition we haven’t yet observed,” she said.
His grin was wide and lazy. “Sleeping naked under the stars?”
“Gee,” she said, “I must have missed that one.”
“Shame, shame. And you said your research was thorough.”
“It’s your research that has to be thorough. I’m not here as the camping expert.” Her gaze narrowed as his grin widened. “No wisecracks, Brogan.”
“Who me?” He looked wounded. She didn’t buy it for a second. “And here I was going to tell you how impressed I’ve been with your adaptation to mountain life.”
Dara’s laugh was more a derisive snort. “Yeah, I bet this has been one thrill-seeking minute after another for someone like you.”
Zach’s grin faded. He stepped closer to her, the bowls in the mesh bag clinking together. “Someone like me?”
Dara would have looked away, but
something in his expression stopped her.
“What do you think of me, Dara? Honestly.” He lifted his free hand to her hair, smoothing the wispy tendrils back from her face. “Never mind. I already know.”
“How could you know, I’ve—”
“I catch you looking at me occasionally.” A small smile curved his mouth, more wistful than cocky. “Sometimes they’re the sort of looks that make me want to beat my chest and start removing clothes without un-buttoning them first.”
Dara felt her cheeks heat.
“And then there are the other ones. The ones that say, ‘What am I doing with this Neanderthal?’ The ones that wonder how you can be attracted to a guy who cruises the globe in search of the next adrenaline high instead of growing up, finding a respectable job and making a real contribution to society.”
Dara was already shaking her head before he’d finished, but Zach either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He traced his fingertips across her lips and let his hand fall away.
“Zach—”
“Don’t, Dara.” He smiled, and the brightness of his white teeth glowing at her in the moonlight when his eyes looked so deep and fathomless made Dara’s eyes burn. “I remember Dane telling me once that after he’d regaled you with war stories from our latest annual trip—I think it was four or five years ago, when we did the Amazon thing—”
“That ‘Amazon thing’ consisted of trekking down a part of the river not even the local tribesmen will go near, or so Dane told me, just to go fishing.”
“Peacock bass are considered a major trophy,” he said, his tone reverent.
She rolled her eyes. “It was crazy and foolish and could have gotten all three of you in serious trouble.” Dara pulled away from his disquieting touch.
“I seem to recall Dane saying that you thought I should be locked up as a threat to civilized society.”
“I can tell you find that incredibly insulting.”
Zach’s grin was more natural this time. “No. Society is entirely too civilized as it is. My clients understand that.” He assumed a dignified expression. “Hence my popularity.” She giggled and without warning, he dipped his head down and caught her mouth in a short, fierce kiss.
Dara responded instantly. It was over before she could think straight.
“What’s insulting,” he said softly, “is that you don’t trust your instincts more. Your head isn’t empty and neither is mine. This isn’t about hormones, Dara. Look below the surface. I dare you. Or is that what scares you?” His gaze searched hers in a way that made her feel naked and vulnerable. “You afraid you might find something worth being interested in? Or that you won’t?” He cupped her face and dropped his lips to hers again. “And how would you rationalize the fact that you want me so bad, you can taste it,” he said roughly, “when I don’t come even close to meeting your standards of what’s worthy?”
“Zach—”
She wasn’t given the chance to explain or defend herself, not that she had even the remotest idea what she would have said.
She watched him head down the path back to camp. A few seconds later, he called out. “Turn your flashlight on.” He paused until she aimed her beam at the trees to his right, then disappeared into the darkness just beyond the circle of light.
Zach found the bag of marshmallows next to the water jug. Dara’s camping tradition. He swore under his breath. What the hell had he been thinking back there? Pushing her like that?
He shook his head and grabbed the plastic bag. Daring her, challenging her, that’s what he’d been doing.
“And just what the hell did you hope to accomplish?” he asked himself as he foraged around the edge of the campsite for a few sticks. He couldn’t quite erase the image of her eyes, all wide and hurt. But he knew Dara, and the hurt wouldn’t last long. Oh no, anger should kick in any old time now. He half expected her to come busting back into the clearing and give him a well-ordered piece of her mind, to tell him he was wrong about her, tell him that she—
That she what? What was he trying to prove here? That he could win her over despite her very good reasons for not getting involved? And then what? If she fell in love with him—
Zach froze in the act of scooping up another stick, the knot in his chest tightened to the point of pain. Love him? Is that what he really wanted? Wanting him, needing him enough to be with him, that wasn’t enough?
No. The answer was instant and as clear in his mind as the midnight sky. No. He wanted it all. He wanted her today, tomorrow, and all the rest of his days. He wanted her smiles, her moods, her laughter, her arguments, her kisses, her touches, her predictable reactions to his teasing, and the outrageous responses he never saw coming. Dear Lord, he wanted her always.
And along with that moment of understanding Zach experienced a fear of the type he’d never known before. He’d conquered each and every goal he’d ever set for himself. Sheer grit and determination had always been enough. But it had always been him against nature, the elements, geography. Never a person. Never a woman. Never Dara.
How in the hell was he going to win this time? And when had the stakes ever been so high? The stick snapped in his hands, and he absently tossed the pieces on the glowing embers of the fire. He stared into the small clumps of glowing ash, watching the orange-yellow aura expand and pop as the wood slowly turned to smoke. He identified strongly, feeling as if his own grasp on Dara and their relationship was just as tenuous and intangible.
She thought he was irresponsible, that he traipsed the globe like a wild man, living for the moment, no plans for the future, not caring if he even lived long enough to have one.
Anger rose within him as he jammed a puffy marshmallow onto another stick and lowered it as close to the heat as he dared. He’d always seen himself as a smart man who’d capitalized on his strengths, a successful businessman lucky enough to make a living doing what he loved to do, what he did best. And he made a damn good living.
He dropped down into a crouch, staring into the fire. Anger was replaced by the bleak realization that nothing was the same, the checks and balances of his life, their respective worth had all changed. And Dara was still right. What did he have to offer someone like her? No matter how in touch she got with the girl she’d been, she’d also really and truly changed. And it was a sure bet she wouldn’t want to climb mountains, or scale glaciers, or leap from airplanes.
The painful irony was, he didn’t care if she did any of those things with him. When he thought of them together, it was doing regular things; grocery shopping on Saturday morning and him sneaking junk food in the cart; watching her stand in front of the closet, picking out the perfect dress so he could show her off on the dance floor that night, having her pull it on so he could pull it right back off again and to hell with going out. He saw fires in winter and barbecues in summer, dinners by candlelight and making love to her on rainy mornings.
He wanted to be there when the emotional fallout from her job was too much to bear alone. He wanted her to be there when he returned from a trip all weary and aching and needing her soft touches and special brand of fierce love.
Her love. That’s what it all came back to.
He shook his head, a harsh sigh escaping his lips. And if he told her any of this, she’d laugh herself silly. She’d never believe it. And he couldn’t blame her.
The marshmallow, now all black and burned, oozed off the slender stick and plopped into the fire with a loud hiss.
“I see this is another skill you haven’t mastered.”
Zach jerked his head up. She was standing on the other side of the fire.
“Can’t sing camp songs or cook marshmallows. And is afraid of women drivers. Better be careful, Brogan, or they’ll revoke your thrill-seeker’s license.”
He should be glad she was teasing him, that she was trying to make it all right. But the dark shadows of night didn’t hide the tight lines of tension on her face, nor did the crackle of the fire cover the underlying strain in her voice. He wa
sn’t glad. He was angry. At her for not rightfully telling him to go to hell and at himself for being so damn glad she hadn’t.
He stood up, tossed the stick in the fire and walked around the stones, stopping just in front of her.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s a whole bag left,” she said, her bright tone faltering on the last word.
“You know what I mean,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said those things back there. And I shouldn’t have walked away.”
“I’m a big girl, Zach,” she said, her hushed tone making the hair on his arms prickle in awareness. “I can take care of myself.”
Zach winced. “Yeah. I guess I ought to get used to that.” Her expression was unreadable and after a long silent moment when he didn’t have the first clue what to say or do next, he finally gestured behind him. “Would you like a marshmallow? I’ll let you cook this time.”
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t want a marshmallow.” She stepped closer to him. “And I don’t want to sing camp songs.” Another small step. She tilted her head to look up at him. “And I don’t want to dance.” Her hand pressed lightly on his chest, and his breathing came to an abrupt halt. “But most of all,” she said so quietly, he barely heard her over the pounding rush in his ears, “most of all, I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”
She tilted up on tiptoe and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. It took everything he had to harness the overwhelming need to drag her into his arms and hang on for dear life.
“Dara,” he said, his voice barely a rasp against her lips. “Dart—”
She opened her mouth slightly and kissed him again, taking advantage of his parted lips. He groaned, a shudder of need rocking him so badly, he held on to her hips to steady himself.
“We need to talk,” he said, using superhuman effort he hadn’t thought himself capable of in order to keep from responding to her. The hard ache between his legs throbbed, reminding him there were some things even his steel will couldn’t control. “Dara, please.” He lifted his head and framed her face with his hands. “We can’t do this until we figure a few things out first.” His breath was coming in short, deep pants. “You were right. I’m not … maybe you shouldn’t … not with me.” God, why was this so damn hard to say?
Born to Be Wild Page 12
