by Brenda Novak
After a moment he glanced at Hadley, expecting her to be wearing an affronted expression. But she didn’t appear all that ruffled. She seemed to be considering his suggestion.
No, she’ll never do it.
“You’re a guy,” she said, frowning. “You can take off your shirt in public.”
“Public? This is about as private as you’re going to get. I wish it was a damn sight less private, to be honest with you. But privacy doesn’t have anything to do with why you’re hesitating. You’re still afraid that I’m dangerous, that a glimpse of your skin will make me lose control and try to rape you or something.”
“No, I don’t. I know that being convicted of murder doesn’t automatically make you a rapist.” She chewed her bottom lip. “On the other hand, I don’t want to be stupid. Some guys have pretty violent sexual experiences in prison that can…you know, change them.”
He grimaced. “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, don’t worry about it. Not everyone on the inside gets raped or turns bisexual.” He lifted his injured hand. “Why do you think I got in so many fights?”
“Those guys tried to rape you?”
“They tried a lot of things. Anyway, two years of celibacy isn’t enough to turn me into a predator.”
Her eyes lowered briefly to his chest and arms before darting quickly away.
Any minute now, she’ll head for the door, Tucker thought. She’s too aware of what I’m feeling not to bolt.
“Okay,” she said with a shrug, and Tucker felt as if someone had just slugged him in the breadbasket.
“What did you say?”
“I’m willing to trust almost anybody if it’ll bring me some relief.” Rocking up on to her knees, she set her gun aside, pulled her shirt out of her pants and began to unbutton it. Now that the decision had been made, she seemed not to give it a second thought. “A body’s a body. I’m sure you’ve seen it all before.”
He had seen it all before. But it’d been two years—two of the longest years of his life—and he hadn’t seen her. Grabbing his T-shirt, Tucker rolled it up for a pillow and turned to face the wall. He wasn’t going to look at Hadley. If she’d been driving him mad before, he could only imagine what she’d do to him now.
But then he heard her sigh in relief, heard her moving around, and couldn’t help stealing a glimpse. Looking wasn’t touching. Looking wouldn’t hurt anyone.
The moment he saw her, he realized he’d made a grave mistake. He’d expected her to be wearing plain, functional underwear, but she had on a black lace bra that left little to the imagination. His clever attempt to frighten her off had backfired. The joke was on him, and his body’s instant reaction let him know it.
With a curse, he rolled over again and presented her with his back. But it was too late. He’d already caught sight of the dark aureolas of her breasts—beautiful breasts that were neither too large nor too small—and his fingers ached to touch them.
She didn’t say anything for a while and he wondered whether his negative reaction was making her consider putting her clothes back on. Or leaving. She did neither. She lay down a couple feet away and soon stopped moving.
Tucker blinked at the wall for several minutes, fighting the urge to turn and enjoy the view. He’d already seen her once. The sight was indelibly etched in his brain. So what difference would looking make now?
He eased himself over, but she’d obviously been anticipating such a move because he immediately came nose to nose with her I-caught-you expression.
“For all your pretended disinterest, you’re full of shit,” she said.
“I told you I didn’t murder my wife. I never said I was a saint.”
“Uh-huh.”
Close, but not touching, they stared at each other without speaking for what seemed like an eternity. Then Tucker broke the silence. “Do you wear this kind of bra every day? Or did you have something special planned for David?”
“I haven’t slept with David since the divorce,” she said. “If I loved him in a romantic way, I would’ve stayed with him. I just wear a few pretty things because it helps.”
“It helps to know you could cause a riot in that prison?”
She smiled. “Lacy panties, a little perfume, it all helps me remember I’m still a woman and in touch with what’s beautiful and good.”
“You’re definitely in touch with what’s beautiful,” he said, letting his eyes sweep over her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in my life.”
He hadn’t meant to say it, at least with such yearning. He’d managed to ignore her all day, had almost believed he could remain indifferent. Now he sounded as emotionally starved as he felt, and that embarrassed him. But she seemed so calm and trusting, lying there without covering up or running away. And that trust felt fantastic, as though she’d somehow put him back in his old skin.
“What is it?” she murmured.
He forced back everything that was suddenly whirling around in his mind, begging for release, and shook his head. Too many emotions were surfacing, bearing down on him all at once. “Nothing. We’d better get some rest.”
Closing his eyes, he waited for his pulse to even out and silently begged sleep to overtake him and numb the exquisite mixture of desire and regret, hope and hopelessness.
But Hadley didn’t let him go to sleep. “What’s wrong? You’re hurting in some way, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer. Damn her, why wouldn’t she just go away?
“Tucker? If I touch you, you won’t take it as a sexual advance, will you?”
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped. He knew any other woman would have given up on him, but not Hadley.
“We could die out here,” she said. “Not much else matters when you think this might be all there is.”
What could he say to that?
Moving closer, she tentatively ran a finger along his jaw.
He felt his muscles bunch in response, nearly pulled her to him. What was she doing? What was she trying to prove? He told himself to jerk away, to let her know he didn’t need her pity or her comfort. But he couldn’t. The softness of her body and her feminine scent immobilized him.
After a few minutes of lying perfectly still, she settled his head on her shoulder and kissed his brow, just like in his dream. She didn’t speak, but she ran her fingers through his hair in a soothing gesture. And that was when he felt the dam inside him begin to crack.
He stiffened, started to roll away, but she held him where he was. “It’s okay,” she murmured, and although he feared what was happening, hated that he’d brought it on himself by allowing her to come so close, he needed what she was offering. Needed it so badly he couldn’t move. Tears blurred his vision and eventually fell on the soft skin of the woman he both resented and longed to caress. He’d been falsely accused and imprisoned; he’d lost his wife and his son and he’d had to fight on an almost daily basis for the simple right to live. Yet he’d never broken down. Until now.
He clung to as much restraint as he could, tried to choke back the tears. He despised weakness and swore he could withstand anything for Landon’s sake. If Hadley had offered him, instead, a fight with five men, he felt he would’ve stood a chance.
But he had nothing left inside him powerful enough to overcome her tenderness.
HOT AND WET, Tucker’s tears fell on Gabrielle’s skin and seemed to sink into her heart. Never had she seen such a proud man cry; never would she have expected Randall Tucker capable of this kind of intense emotion. He’d suffered numerous injuries and shrugged them off. He’d sat in the back of a patrol car for three hours, riding in what could only have been excruciating pain, without murmuring a word. Unlike her, he hadn’t complained of any discomfort in the desert. He’d brought her water, saved her from the storm, warmed her through the night. Tucker was just about the toughest man she’d ever met. But now Gabrielle knew there was more to him than toughness….
She stared at the ruined ceiling above and le
t her fingers continue to work their way through his hair, giving and taking what comfort she could in their closeness. It felt as if they were the only two people on earth. They had no guarantee of surviving; they had no guarantees at all. But they had each other. Somehow, despite everything, that brought peace.
Finally, Tucker’s breathing relaxed and Gabrielle knew he slept. She curled more comfortably into his body and caressed the soft, smooth skin of his back. She wanted to sleep but couldn’t. The sun was pushing the shade closer to their corner and seemed to be shedding that same brilliant light on the soul she’d found so shadowed just minutes before. Or maybe it was bringing light to the dark corners of her own soul. Either way, she believed Tucker was innocent. She knew, after this moment, that she’d always believe it.
TUCKER WOKE to the feeling of something wonderful against his face, something soft and full. Something perfect as a woman’s—
He opened one eye and realized he’d done exactly what he was afraid he’d done—he’d buried his face in Hadley’s breasts.
Lifting his head so he could use both eyes, he wondered if perhaps he’d forgotten something important. But he found her sleeping deeply, still wearing her pants and bra, which was a good sign. If he’d made love to her, she sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing any clothes. It was too hot, and he wouldn’t have wanted any barriers between them. He’d want free access to love her again and again and…
His body immediately hardened at the thought, but he was glad he hadn’t crossed any lines. He didn’t want to feel obligated to Hadley or to anyone else, didn’t want to create expectations, carry or leave any emotional baggage. Fortunately the pillow she’d let him enjoy was just the overflow from her bra, and if he’d become a little emotional earlier and embarrassed himself…well, there was nothing he could do about that. Landon needed him. He’d have to ignore what had happened and move on, bury the memory along with all the other unpleasant events of the past two years.
But he had a hard time thinking of those moments with Hadley as unpleasant. She hadn’t questioned him, hadn’t demanded anything. She’d just held him, and somehow, her touch had reached deep inside him….
I’m imagining things. Nothing’s changed. He’d still go back to prison the second the police apprehended him—and Hadley would stand by and watch. All the evidence pointed to him as Andrea’s murderer. What else could she do?
Frowning, he allowed himself one more head-to-toe perusal of her, lying there so vulnerable and trusting, and nearly placed his lips over one perfect nipple. If they were going to die, he’d rather die right here in a glorious celebration of having lived, provided he could convince Hadley to share his view. He had no desire to touch her unless she welcomed it, but the way she’d behaved earlier, her daring in pulling him to her in the first place, led him to believe she might not be opposed to taking what joy they could find. Except he wasn’t sure exactly what her relationship with her ex-husband was like. She claimed she didn’t love him romantically, but she’d sure grown defensive of him in a hurry.
In any case, he had more important things to worry about than making love. If he was ever going to find his son, he needed to get moving.
Forcing himself to stand and withdraw from temptation, he pulled on his T-shirt and went outside to check on his still, which was working far better than he’d expected, thanks to the rain. He hated to disturb it, but he was parched, and hunger was quickly becoming a secondary concern. They’d be able to travel farther and faster on a full stomach, he decided, and went back into the church to retrieve the gun Hadley had set aside when she’d removed her shirt. He’d never been much of a hunter, but the lives that were quickly becoming most precious to him were his and Hadley’s, and he knew he’d do what was necessary to survive.
SHE WAS ALONE! Hadley gazed around the church, hoping to see Tucker somewhere, anywhere, to hear him outside, perhaps. But there was no sound except the soft cooing of a dove from the rafters, which made her feel more forlorn than if there’d been nothing.
Sitting up so fast her head swam, she blinked away the dizziness and scanned the empty church. He was gone. And so was her gun.
“Tucker? Where are you?” she cried.
Alarmed, the bird flapped its wings and flew off, startling her as badly as she’d startled it. But what frightened her more was the fact that Tucker didn’t answer. Only her voice bounced back at her from the three-hundred-year-old walls.
Getting to her feet, she tied her shirt around her waist—it was late afternoon but still too hot to bear putting it back on—and went to the door. He could be relieving himself behind a cactus somewhere out of earshot, she told herself, and decided to take the opportunity to do the same.
When she’d finished, she hurried into the open and turned in a circle, gazing in all directions. But she couldn’t see anything remotely human.
Then she remembered the still.
She found the spot where Tucker had been doing his digging and her hope faltered. The still had been dismantled; the water was gone.
What now? she wondered. He’d taken everything, even her purse and her pictures of Allie.
Her first impulse was to hurry after him. At the very least, she had a few things to say about emotional maturity and human kindness. But her watch indicated that she’d slept for more than three hours. She had no way of knowing when Tucker had left. By this time, he could be anywhere.
She glanced disconsolately at the well then forced herself to leave it behind and start walking. The sun was setting. It looked like a huge fireball melting into the earth, but soon darkness would fall. The air would cool to a comfortable seventy degrees and, away from the city, the stars would appear brighter than any she’d ever seen. Along with the moon, they’d light her way. Then she’d have approximately twelve hours to find help or—
Gunshots rang out, and she froze. One…two…three rounds…a pause…then several more. Turning toward the sound, she stared into the distance, listening as the reports faded away. Tucker! She jogged in the direction she’d heard the shots, feeling a relief so profound she thought she might cry, and soon saw Tucker coming toward her.
Lifting something, he yelled, “I got one! Let’s eat!”
IMMEDIATELY feeling selfconscious, Gabrielle pulled her shirt back on and buttoned it as she stared at the dead jackrabbit in Tucker’s grip. “How did you manage to shoot that with your left hand?” she asked.
“My karate training probably helped. When you fight, it’s best to be able to use both hands. Anyway, I missed a few times, and it took me a lot longer than I figured it would, but I managed.”
“How are we going to skin it?” She was famished. The half sandwich she’d eaten at dawn hadn’t lasted more than a couple of hours. But she’d never so much as plucked a chicken, and found it hard to equate this poor animal with food.
“A sharp rock and your keys, I guess. I’m new at this myself.”
“And then?”
“Then we try starting a fire.”
“Great. That should be easy. Except we don’t have any matches or a flint-steel set or even a magnifying glass.”
“There’s some matches in your purse.”
“No, there’s—” Gabrielle suddenly remembered. “Oh, I picked them up for Allie’s birthday. I must’ve stuck them in my purse and forgotten.”
“Fortunately for us,” he said. “Why don’t you gather some wood while I see about skinning this?”
She looked around, feeling skeptical. “We’re not exactly in a woodsy area.”
“Not for an Oregonian, perhaps, but there’s plenty of wood here. If you can’t find enough scraps in the church, we can always dig up the taproots of a mesquite bush. Next to ironwood, mesquite is the best firewood in the desert. It burns slowly and is smokeless.” He yanked on a nearby bush and pulled off a pod. “And if we want to add a side dish to our meal, we could always eat these.”
“What are they?”
“Mesquite pods. The Papago ate them all the time
. They made tea and syrup from them, and ground them into meal.”
“Roasted rabbit and mesquite pods. Sounds almost gourmet.”
“I aim to please, ma’am.” His smile made Gabrielle’s breath catch. It was sexy and endearing. Her eyes automatically dropped to his lips as she remembered what it had felt like to hold him, to caress him. She wondered what kissing such an intense man might be like….
“I owe you an apology,” she said, pulling her gaze back up to his eyes.
His brows lifted. “For what?”
“I thought you’d left me.”
He studied her for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. “Believe me, if I could have left you, I would’ve done it by now.”
She felt her lips curve into an answering smile. “Having a heart can get in the way, can’t it?”
“You don’t know me—”
She raised a hand. “And I shouldn’t take anything for granted. You’ve put me on notice already.”
“I’ve been in prison for two years, Hadley—”
“Gabrielle.”
“What?”
“My name’s Gabrielle.”
“Like I was saying, Hadley. No one does hard time and comes out soft and sweet. For your own sake, you need to remember that. Now gather the wood. It’s getting late,” he said, and stalked off.
CHAPTER TEN
TUCKER BREATHED DEEPLY to savor the sweet, woodsy aroma of roasting rabbit and burning mesquite and closed his eyes. Nothing had ever smelled so good. After an entire day of going without, the promise of food made his mouth water and his stomach growl, but he felt strangely content with the anticipation. The bars of the prison were gone. The stench was gone. The terrible noise and taunting faces were all gone. Here, it was absolutely peaceful. He knew he’d eat soon, but he felt even better knowing Hadley would have food to fill her belly, too. Why providing for her was so important to him, he wasn’t sure. It felt so similar to the impulse that made him want to look out for Landon, or for Andrea when she’d been alive, he didn’t want to think about it.
