by Dianne Drake
“In the future, the ropes will have a place in my life. You won’t.”
“That’s blunt.”
“But true.” She arched challenging eyebrows. “Can’t deny it, Mark.”
He laughed. “Let’s take this to the other room. I don’t want to disturb Sarah.”
The other room was smaller, had a desk, a chair, and a mini-kitchen. No bed, thank heavens, because she knew that while seduction wasn’t the fare du soir, the bed would have been distracting. “So, I’ve got the rope, now what?”
“Well, the first thing you have to do is with your harness.” He handed it to her slowly, let his hand linger on the harness as she took hold of it. “Hold it up in front of you and untangle it. The easiest way to avoid tangling your rope is to make sure you keep it untangled when you put it away. Nothing is more annoying than dealing with a tangled rope.” He finally let go of the harness and in doing so, massaged a soft trail over the back of her hand.
Angela sucked in a sharp breath, trying to refocus through the tingles he was causing. “I’ll remember that,” she said after his hand finally slipped away from her. “No t-tangles.”
He nodded. “There are ways to coil a rope, but we’ll save that for another day.”
Was he purposely sounding seductive, or was she truly in the mood to be seduced? Because the thought of coiling rope with him made her want to do it now, made her ache to do it. The thought of coiling anything with him made her ache in ways she’d never ached before. “Just tell me when,” she managed to say without her voice sounding too husky from want. But that was a struggle because she was succumbing to a seduction in which Mark was clearly not involved. A seduction all in her head. “So, what comes next?”
“You have to identify the front and back of the harness, as well as the left and right leg loops. Be careful there are no twists in the harness, then put it on around your waist, and make sure it’s snug when you buckle it.”
It looked simple enough, but it was good to have Mark there to steady her as she yanked the harness into place. “It’s not going to be comfortable, is it?” she said, trying to draw the webbing tighter around her waist.
He chuckled. “Not going to be pretty either. But you’ll get used to it if you do it often enough. So now that you’ve got your waist taken care of, do the same for your leg loops. Pull each one around your thigh, and make sure you get them as high on your leg as you can. Then buckle them tight without cutting off your circulation.”
She attempted to cinch the left leg first, but Mark stopped her by taking hold of her leg loop and putting it in her hand. Transferring the belt from his hand to hers turned into a lingering touch, one that lasted far too long for anything professional, or even instructional. His touch was on the verge of a caress… Or was it her imagination? She glanced up at him quickly, to see the expression on his face, and for a flash she thought she saw… No, it was definitely her imagination. He was concentrating, almost scowling. “So I, um…I fasten the leg loop around my thigh, and…”
He cleared his throat. “Once around, then double it back. Both legs. And do the same for your waist. Make sure you pay attention to the buckle, though. This harness says Warning on each of the buckles, and when you can still see that exposed, you know you haven’t doubled back. Also, get in the habit of looking at the buckle. They don’t all have the warning. But when you haven’t doubled back, it looks like an O. It will look like a C when you’ve done it properly. And the belay…” He pointed to the front loop. “You’ve got it twisted. It goes right over your belly button.” Maneuvering the harness a bit, his hand rubbed over her belly as he placed the belay over her bellybutton. A touch to send shockwaves thought her body, it was so sensual, so personal, even fully clothed as she was.
Everything inside her braced for the smile she forced, trying to make it look steady while she was feeling jittery. “I remember belay.”
“It’s important,” he said.
Was he sounding awkward? Was this closeness getting to him? Or was it her own nervousness making him nervous? “As in a lifesaver. I learn my lessons well, Doctor.” She worked with the belt, got it positioned properly around her waist just fine, but she fumbled doubling the belt back through the buckle. The webbing was stiff and, admittedly, her fingers were trembling a little. “A little clumsy,” she conceded, giving it a second try.
Midway through, he took over. “If you’re not used to getting this set up, it can be a little tough. And this part is important. You absolutely have to have your double-back done properly, because that’s what will hold you in place if you should fall off a cliff. So what you do is…” His fingers brushed over hers again as he took the belt from her. “Push it through the buckle…”
She inhaled the masculine scent of him. Let herself get lost in it. Shut her eyes, enjoying the closeness, enjoying the feel of him. Held her breath to hold in the essence.
“Then pull it back, tight. Can you breathe?” he asked.
Reluctantly, she released her breath. “I’m fine. Just…concentrating.” It was crazy, how aroused she was by this. But the goose bumps were rioting now, and his touch was making her legs feel all rubbery.
“Good. Because you need to do the same thing with each of your leg loops. Just double back like we did to your waist. And keep the loops as high as you can. Right up to your…”
She nodded. “As high as it will go.”
He nodded back.
She saw little beads of perspiration beginning to dot his brow.
“The webbing on the leg loops is probably stiff, too, so…”
Angela swallowed hard, and forced her concentration to the leg loops. The leg loops! She had to get this right. Couldn’t be distracted. Couldn’t let the skittish lump in her throat pull her out of the task, out of the moment, because this was the instruction she needed. It was about getting her certificate. About so many important things in her life. “It won’t loop back through,” she said, pulling on the end of the webbing, trying to force it back through the buckle. “I can’t seem to…”
“Work with the webbing a little before we do this again. Make it more pliable.”
He wasn’t going to help her? Wasn’t going to finish this lesson? “Pliable,” she mumbled, not ready, yet, to quit. “For the sake of the lesson, can we move on to the next step even though I can’t get the leg loops tight enough? As long as I know I have to do it, it shouldn’t make a difference if they’re loose.”
“When you put on your harness, you put it on correctly, no matter what the reason. No exception.”
She huffed out an impatient sigh. Impatient at herself for not being able to do this simple task. Impatient with him for being so rigid about it. “Then I guess we’re through for the evening, because I can’t get the webbing to double back through the buckle.”
As if trying to figure out what he wanted to do, Mark shut his eyes for a moment. Was he being impatient with her? Or sorry he’d started this, because she’d failed at such a simple thing? Buying this equipment and trying to teach her had been a nice thing to do. Unexpected. So, was he regretting it now?
Without further thought, she decided he probably was, which meant it was time to leave. Time to get Sarah, take her back to their suite where Edith Weston would sit with her, then go and fix evening snacks and have a late-night session with the kids about how blood sugar can either spike or bottom out over the course of the night, depending on what they ate during the evening. But she was so not in the mood. Not in the mood to do anything but return to her room, hold Sarah, and remember that everything she was doing was for her daughter. Refocus on that! “Look, I appreciate the lesson, but since it doesn’t look like we’re going to be able to go any further than where we are…”
Suddenly, he had the belt of the leg loop in his hand, doubling it back through the buckle. Once it was adjusted, he slipped his hand between her thigh and the belt. “No more than a hand’s thickness. Anything looser is wrong.”
The feel of his hand o
n her thigh caused her to gasp. “You…you startled me,” she lied. For, he hadn’t startled her at all. But if he moved his hand another inch up, what he might do would surely rouse a gasp even louder than the one she’d just let out.
“You’ve got to get it right, Angela. If you don’t, you could fall out of your harness if you flip upside down.”
She was definitely flipping upside down now, just not in the way he defined it. “Upside down is…” This time, as he adjusted her other leg loop then tested it for proper tightness, she didn’t gasp. She merely sighed. Then looked up at him, met his eyes, saw the same fire there she knew was in her own. “Mark, I, um…we…”
The moment of decision wasn’t prolonged. Mark leaned in and brushed his warm lips to Angela’s, as his hand reached to caress her cheek. At first, Angela was dazed by his touch, dazed by her need for it, and she didn’t respond to the tender kisses he was giving. She merely lingered there, enjoying them, reveling in them, imprinting them in her mind, her heart. But all too soon his tender kisses turned demanding, seeking her response. She moaned softly, low. Or maybe the moan was his. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered as gentleness turned into passion, and she licked her tongue across his lips, drawing out a moan that was most definitely his.
His moan startled her, woke her from her daze, caused her to break apart from him. But what she couldn’t break was his stare…the longing, the raw need. “Mark, I think…”
He shushed her, reaching out his hand and running his thumb over her lips. Brushing them lightly. Causing a tingle so sensual all she could do was close her eyes for the moment, and allow it. Allow Mark. Allow anything. “It probably isn’t a good idea, is it? Not with Sarah in the next room. Not with all the kids down the hall,” he said, as his fingers moved up her cheek and entwined in her short hair, giving it a playful little tug.
Were his fingers trembling a little? Or were her nerves so unraveled that it was she who was shaking? “No, it’s not,” she murmured, so enjoying his feathery caress that she regretted having to stop. “I haven’t been with anyone. Nothing. Not for a long time,” she told him.
“I understand,” he said, moving his thumb back to her lips.
Which was fast becoming her favorite sensation in the world. She tilted her face up to look at him and their lips met again, but this time with all the force she could find in herself. Curling her fingers around his neck, she pulled his head toward her, demanding more ardent kisses. Their tongues danced together and in unison their breaths quickened. Mark raised his hand, slipped it alongside Angela’s neck for a moment, then all restraint was lost. He crushed her hard to his chest, and the kiss was as exacting as everything else about him was. Firm, forceful, both of them giving, both of them greedy to take. It was their essence, the soul of their relationship, the kiss of the adversary finding its rightful place. And in a heartbeat Angela stopped. Looked at the buckle. Saw the word. The one word that said everything. Warning.
“It’s not about Sarah, and not about the kids down the hall. It’s about my plan,” she whispered, too stunned by what she’d come so close to doing that her voice hadn’t yet found its way back to her. “You’re not in my plan.” She looked up at him. “Don’t you see? This can’t happen. Not now. Not…us.” She took another step backwards.
“You think something was going to happen?” he asked. His voice was curt, and the scowl on his face as deep as she’d ever seen it. “It was just…” He shook his head. “Whatever it was. Nothing.”
Nothing? It was nothing to him? Suddenly, she knew why she couldn’t do this. Why she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. She could feel the little rent in her heart. The small crack that would have surely turned into deep heartbreak had the kiss gone on much longer. She was falling in love with this man. Fighting against it with everything she had in her, and failing anyway. Oh, she knew better. But the feeling wasn’t entirely hers to control. And he’d done what she’d known all along would happen. “Nothing,” she said. “You’re right. It was nothing.”
She turned, fought against the urge to run away, and mustered all the dignity she could find. Still cinched in her harness, its straps dangling everywhere, she walked into the other room, picked up Sarah, then walked to the door. Once there, she turned back to him. “I appreciate the lesson, Mark. I hope we can get past this…this nothing, so you can teach me the next part of it.”
He didn’t say yes. Didn’t said no either. In fact, he said nothing. And once she was in the hall, she hurried to her room before anybody saw the tears streaming down her face. “Why did I do that?” she asked Sarah, who was wide-awake and staring up at her. “Why did I let that happen when I knew it couldn’t go anywhere?”
Sarah’s answer was a little babbling that ended with Mama and Daaa…two words that weren’t going to come together. Angela’s answer, the one in her heart, was that she was falling in love with Mark. It wasn’t a good enough answer, but it was the only one she had.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“SCOTTY? Are you awake?” Angela asked, hoping the boy would get up without a tussle. But he simply rolled over and ignored her. All the other children had been up an hour. They’d had breakfast, and were already on a nature hike, being led by Fallon, James and Tyler Galbraith. All, except Scotty, who was being cantankerous this morning. “It’s time to get up, sleepyhead,” she said, giving him a gentle nudge.
“No!” he barked, pulling the blankets up.
More than any other child at camp, he was the one who needed the exercise, as he was nearly twenty pounds over his ideal weight. But three days in, and she was discovering that Scotty and anything that involved physical activity didn’t mix well. He was seven and, to all intents and purposes, sedentary. Video games, TV, snacks…his life. Which would turn into a very bleak future for him if they didn’t get his situation straightened around, get him taught, get him motivated. “No isn’t an option, Scotty. It’s time for you to get up, get dressed, have breakfast—”
“I said, no!” He jerked away from Angela when she tried to pull the blanket down.
“He’s not getting up?” Mark asked from the doorway. He was standing there holding Fred, who was decked in a little red plaid doggie jacket, looking quite stylish.
“I’ve tried everything except just pulling him out of bed, and he’s resisting it all.” She looked at the boy, who’d balled himself into an almost fetal position, with his back to them. “Any suggestions?”
He grinned. “Maybe if I toss Fred in the sack with him, that will get a response.”
“Do you like dogs, Scotty? Because we have a nice one here, who would like to be your friend.”
“No,” Scotty snapped.
Angela and Mark raised eyebrows at each other then Mark shook his head, almost apologetically. “Well, I’d like to hang around and figure this out, but Fred needs to go visit the great outdoors for his morning constitutional, and after that I have a couple of candidates to interview for the course.” He walked over to the bed, gave Scotty a little jostle on the shoulder. “And you, young man, need to get up and moving. As soon as I’m done, I’m coming back, and you and I are going to take that hike together. It’ll be good for both of us.” He winked at Angela. “The longer you stay in bed, the longer the walk will be.”
“Don’t want to,” Scott mumbled.
“His speech…” Angela said. “It’s…it’s slurred.” Without another thought she grabbed hold of Scotty and tried rolling him over. He lashed out, started kicking and punching. She took a right cross to the eye, knew instantly she’d have a shiner soon.
Mark put the dog down and ran forward to help. “Angela, are you OK?”
She waved away his concern, focusing all her energies on helping Scott. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Can you get me a blood-sugar testing kit? I can manage Scotty.”
Grabbing Fred, Mark raced from the room. “Scotty, calm down!” she told the boy. “We’re trying to help you.”
“Leave me alone!” he sobbed, trying to escape her
arms.
Her first thought was that he’d hurt himself, flailing the way he had. Her second thought was that something was going wrong. “Scotty, please… Calm down, sweetheart, it’s OK. It’s OK,” she murmured gently over and over again as she sat down on the bed and held him firmly in her arms.
“Can you hold him still long enough for me to get his blood tested?” Mark asked, running back into the room. He had his medical bag with him, along with the blood-sugar testing kit.
“He’s running out of energy. I’ll keep him as still as I can.”
Mark took hold of Scotty’s hand and Scotty immediately yanked it back. The balance between needing to do the procedure and not hurting Scotty was precarious, but Mark took his hand again and successfully stilled him for a moment.
“No! I don’t want that,” Scotty screamed. “Leave me alone.” He bucked up when Mark tried to prick his finger, caught Angela unawares, knocked her off the side of the bed. If it hadn’t been for Mark standing directly behind her, bracing himself against her to add support, she would have been thrown to the floor.
“Get yourself into position to prick his finger,” Mark said. “Because I can’t do it from this angle.”
“How about we trade places? You hold him, I’ll get his blood.” So Mark held Scotty, his voice gently reassuring the boy, while Angela did the deed, pressing the lancet to Scotty’s index finger. After she pressed it, she squeezed out a drop of blood onto the test strip. It was an easy thing to do, really, but for her a monumental procedure. Handing off the strip to Mark, she made her way back onto the side of the bed, trying again to hold Scotty during his tantrum.
“Four hundred and twenty,” Mark said.
Dear God, that was high! She knew the numbers, knew what they meant and, suddenly, she felt sick to her stomach. “Mark, how could that have happened to him?” One of the conditions of the camp was that the kids didn’t get to have contraband food. Nothing from the outside. And since kids will be kids, it was established with the parents that frequent checks would be made of the lockers and beds. Yet somehow Scotty had managed to circumvent their efforts.
