“Yeah, well, if you knew Stephen…He was five years older than me, and he was always plotting and planning something. Usually something that included me as the naive twit who got suckered into it.”
“I know what you mean.” Aly laughed. “My two older brothers, Morgan and Noah, used to blame me for whatever they got caught doing behind my parents’ backs.”
The mention of Morgan’s name hit Clay hard. He wrestled with it, praying his face remained neutral. And when he saw the happiness in Aly’s eyes over those memories, he wanted to push beyond his own painful barriers to find out more about her. “Sounds like those two were in cahoots, and you were the odd person out,” he teased.
“Oh, believe me, I was! I remember one time when Morgan wanted to play Indian fort. He was always cooking up ideas, and of course, Noah and I just innocently toddled along.” Aly sat up, animation in her voice. “He had the greatest ideas sometimes, Clay. That particular time, he dragged a whole bunch of cardboard boxes up from the basement, and we made this wonderful fort out of them. I mean, we had boxes strung all through the living room, one and two stories high.”
“Where were your parents?”
“Dad was off flying a B-52 mission, gone for two weeks. Mom was over at the base exchange, getting groceries. Morgan was twelve, so he was baby-sitting the two of us while she was gone.”
“Perfect recipe for trouble.” Clay chuckled.
“You got it!” Aly set down the MRE and launched excitedly into the rest of her story. “Noah got this great idea to use sheets as a roof for our fort. So they told me to go up to the linen closet and get them. I must have come back with fifteen of them!”
Clay groaned. “Oh, God, what did your mother do when she saw this concoction?”
Laughing, Aly reached over, her hand resting on his shoulder. The action shocked both of them. She quickly removed her hand. “By the time Mom got home, the entire living room comprised our fort. With the sheets, we had a wonderful roof, and even had enough of them left over for curtains to hang over some of the boxes inside the fort. It was really a neat fort, Clay.”
He grinned. “I’ll bet it was. And I’ll bet your mother had a canary, too.”
Giggling, Aly said, “She about dropped the groceries at the entrance to the living room when she saw it. Noah and Morgan had heard her car pull up in the driveway, and they scooted into the fort to hide. They told me to go out and tell Mom all about it.”
“Uh-oh…they were setting you up for the fall.”
“You got it! I ran out to the kitchen to meet her, bubbling over about this fort we’d built.” She slanted him a wry glance. “Now, keep in mind, I was only six years old at the time. Anyway, Mom came to the entrance of the living room, and her mouth fell open. I was rattling on in my little voice, my arms waving here and there about how we’d built it. When she finally spoke, there was this tone in her voice that meant we were in big trouble. Mom ordered Morgan and Noah front and center.”
“Did they come crawling out of the fort and face the music?” Clay asked, grinning.
“Not at first,” Aly hedged, fondly recalling the incident. “Mom demanded that Morgan and Noah show themselves or else.”
“Did they give up?”
“Morgan had talked Noah into carrying a white flag of truce out with him, thinking Mom would find it funny and relent. She didn’t. Both my brothers pointed the finger at me, telling Mom that I’d taken the sheets from the closet. They hoped to transfer the blame to me, because they knew a paddling was the next order of business.”
Clay shook his head. “Your brothers were mean.”
Chuckling, Aly said, “That’s okay. Little sister grew up in a hurry under those conditions. I learned real fast never to be around when Morgan and Noah started cooking up another one of their grandiose plans.”
“So, what happened to the fort?”
“You haven’t heard the best of it.” Aly laughed. “Mom grabbed Morgan by the ear and demanded to know where he’d gotten all those cardboard boxes. There must have been twenty-five or thirty of them in there. He confessed to Mom that he’d gotten them from the basement. She nearly laid an egg on that one.”
“Why?”
Aly laughed for nearly a minute, holding her sides. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she finally managed to get out, “Morgan unpacked those boxes from our recent move to this new base. Twenty-eight boxes of stuff were now helter-skelter all over the basement floor. Mom almost died when she went down and looked.” Her eyes sparkled, watching Clay grin. “The upshot of it was that Morgan and Noah spent the next week, every night after schoolwork was done, repacking each of those boxes. They hated it! Noah was really mad at Morgan, because Noah hadn’t gotten the boxes out of the basement in the first place.”
Shaking his head, Clay asked, “What about those fifteen sheets?”
“Morgan had to not only wash and dry every last one of them, but he had to iron them as well!”
“So, your Mom read between the lines and saw that you were the innocent in their diabolical plot?”
Twittering contentedly, Aly leaned back. “Yup. For once naive little sister got a reprieve. God, that whole thing was so funny, Clay.” She traded a happy look with him. “I’m really glad you started talking about your family. I haven’t remembered the fort incident in years.” Reaching out, she briefly touched his arm. “Thanks. It feels so good to laugh again.”
They had managed to scale the third set of hills before darkness fell across Baja. Clay pulled Aly to a halt. She leaned slightly, her body brushing his.
“Let’s call it a day,” he said.
“Good, I’m beat to hell, Clay.”
He squeezed her hand. “You’re a trooper, though.” Aly had never complained, but kept doggedly climbing hour after hour. “I’m amazed at your stamina,” Clay admitted, allowing the heavy pack to slide off his shoulders.
Aly stood wearily, more tired than she’d ever thought possible. Clay was the one who carried the pack, but he didn’t appear to be nearly as exhausted as she felt. “Must be the family genes,” she offered. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, just sit down and rest.”
“Thanks…I owe you one.”
Clay noted a slice of moon was coming up, providing just enough light to barely see her facial features. “And I intend to collect,” he warned her huskily.
A tremble of anticipation moved through her. Aly sat facing him. He couldn’t be serious. No. “Uh-oh,” she baited, “my body or my life, is that it?”
Taking out the plastic ground cover, Clay laid it down after clearing a spot of rocks and pebbles. “Say, now that’s not a bad trade.”
She snorted. “Cantrell, you’re such a male chauvinist.”
He took the blanket, placing it over the plastic cover, smoothing it out. “I’d take your body in trade.”
“You would.”
He sat up, hands resting on his knees. Seeing that Aly wasn’t sure whether he was teasing or not, Clay decided to test her, to find out just how far her disgust with him went. “Now, I’m very picky about the body I make love with.”
Aly avoided his dark, probing eyes. She lowered her lashes. How many times had she dreamed of Clay loving her? Of their sharing laughter and joy together? “So am I,” she parried.
“But if there was a choice between losing your life or giving yourself to me, which would it be?”
Aly licked her chapped lower lip. “Well…” she hedged.
“Is it my looks that turn you off?”
“No! Of course not.” Aly risked a glance at him, realizing he was watching her intently. “What I mean is, you’re not ugly or anything.”
“Whew, that was close!” Clay dramatically placed his hand against his heart.
She gave him a dirty look.
“Since I’m such a handsome devil, you wouldn’t find it personally distasteful to fall into my arms?”
Aly dug the toe of her boot into the dirt, trapped. “Okay, so you�
��re not bad-looking,” she admitted, refusing to answer the rest of his question.
“I love the way compliments roll off your tongue. I practically have to drag them out of you.”
“Oh, shut up, Cantrell!”
Chuckling, he got up and walked over to where she sat. He crouched down in front of her. Aly refused to look up. “What’s this? Are you blushing, Aly Trayhern?” And he placed his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Why, I believe you are.”
Unable to speak, Aly held his smiling dark eyes. There was tenderness burning in them, and when she realized he wasn’t laughing at her, she panicked. Clay was so close, so pulverizingly male that she ached to lean those scant inches and feel his mouth on hers again.
“My shy little violet,” Clay said huskily, lightly caressing her cheek. He saw something in her huge blue eyes, and it wasn’t fear. If he read her correctly, it was longing. Need. That shook him badly. Instead of disgust or anger aimed at him, he saw desire. In those shattering seconds strung between them, Clay realized that Aly didn’t hate him at all. And then he remembered the passion of her returning kiss so many months ago. He gave her a little smile, hoping to reassure her that he wasn’t going to take advantage of her.
“Come on, let’s get ready for bed,” he murmured, slowly rising to his feet. “I’d like to sleep until about 0500 when it starts getting light, and walk while it’s still cool. What do you think?”
“That sounds fine,” she whispered. It took Aly a good minute to gather her strewn feelings. Clay could have kissed her, and she would have welcomed it. Somehow, he’d sensed that she wanted him! His eyes had grown dark, and she’d seen that silver flame in their depths. Her heart was pounding erratically.
Clay shed the vest he was wearing and plumped it up for a pillow to lay his head on. He twisted around, looking over at Aly. She was shaken. Using humor, he growled, “Come on, Miss Trayhern, get your rear over here. If you don’t lie down, you’re going to fall off that rock and hurt yourself when you fall asleep on it.”
Nervously, Aly rose. She looked at the small square of bedding, realizing that both of them would be sleeping on it. “Clay,” she began in a strangled tone, “two people can’t sleep on that!”
He started untying his bootlaces. “Sure, they can.”
Lamely, Aly approached the foot of it. “But—it’s only big enough for one person.”
“You didn’t bring your gear with you. We’ll have to make do with mine.”
Despair flooded her. Clay was right. She’d rushed off in such a hurry to catch up with him on the trek that she’d packed only the essentials of food and water, not sleeping gear. “I—uh, I think I’ll just sleep on the ground. You go ahead and use that pallet.”
“And let the creepy-crawlies get you?”
“Clay Cantrell!”
He struggled to give her his best innocent look. More than anything, Clay wanted Aly near him. Tonight, he wanted to salve more of her wounds by being close, letting her know that he didn’t hate or dislike her. “Well, I mean scorpions are night creatures. And they’re always looking for a warm body to snuggle up to….”
With a cry, Aly moved to the blanket. She gave him an angry look. “You’re such a rat, Cantrell! You know I can’t stand those things!”
He swallowed his smile and returned to unlacing his second boot. Pulling it off, he set it aside. Absently patting the blanket next to him, he said, “Come on, Aly sit down. I’ll help you get those boots off.”
She glared at Clay, more frightened of her reaction to him than anything else. “You take off anything more than my boots, and you’re in big trouble, fella!”
“Threats, threats!” Clay laughed, reaching up and pulling her gently down beside him. “Really, Miss Trayhern, I’d hope I’m the lesser of two evils.” He gloated as he untied her bootlaces. “I’d hope I’m more desirable to you than a scorpion. If you chose that fellow over me, that’d really hurt my feelings.”
“You’re impossible, Cantrell! Utterly, certifiably impossible!”
He chuckled as he removed her boots. Aly had such small, delicate feet. There was concern and wariness in her features. Clay lay down, his back to her. “Come on, stop spitting and clawing like a cornered cat, and lie down.”
Grumbling under her breath, Aly lay on her right side, facing his broad, powerful back. She had no choice but to wedge next to him, the narrowness of the blanket forcing them together. She saw him rise on one elbow, pull the blanket over them and then lie back down. She clamped her eyes shut.
Clay grinned into the darkness, hotly aware that Aly was only inches away from him. “Good night, little hellcat. Sleep tight.”
Aly refused to respond to his husky voice. She tried to inch away from him, balanced precariously on the line where the blanket ended and the desert began. He was just too close, too overwhelming for her rattled senses.
Clay felt Aly move away. “Scorpions like to find the edges of blankets to crawl under,” he told her.
With a little cry of fear, Aly scooted back to him. “Damn you, Cantrell!”
Clay stifled a laugh. “Better get a little closer, Aly. That way, no scorpions can wiggle their way between us.” His grin widened as she hesitantly fitted her body against his back and legs. “Better,” he groaned. “Much better.”
Aly knew her eyes must be blazing, even in the dark. “You’re going to pay for this, Cantrell. You’re enjoying this at my expense.”
Clay shook with laughter. God, but Aly felt good contoured against him. He checked his desire to lift his arm and place it across her hip. “Yeah, I am. But you know something?”
“I don’t want to hear another word out of you!”
Smiling, he murmured, “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. I like the way you feel against me. You’re warm, soft, and all woman. What a way to go….”
Aly refused to answer him. A minute later she muttered, “You’re arrogant, Cantrell. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for using a situation like this on me. I can’t help it if I’m scared of those horrible insects!”
Clay couldn’t help himself. He slid his hand carefully beneath the blanket until it came in contact with her slender hip. Giving it a gentle pat, he murmured, “Good night, Aly. Sleep the sleep of the angels, because you are one.”
The gray cape of dawn was just barely edging the horizon when Clay awoke. But that wasn’t what awakened him. Sometime during the night, he’d turned over on his back. Aly had somehow found her way into his arms. Her head lay in the hollow of his left shoulder, her red hair smooth and springy against his jaw. Gently, he squeezed her, delighting in her feminine length against him.
The stars hung close in the night sky above him. A coyote yipped and then cried, his howl lonely across the quiet of the desert. There was no wind on top of the hill. Everything was silent, as if holding its breath. Contentment flowed through Clay. He savored each precious second with Aly, feeling the rise and fall of her breasts against him, her breath moist across his neck. What pleased him most was the fact that her left hand, despite the sling, lay against his torso.
She was sleeping deeply, and so Clay risked everything and pressed a kiss to her hair. He inhaled her fragrance like a starved man. Wasn’t he? Yes. He was starved for her. And if he was able to read between the lines of Aly’s reluctance to lie here with him, she too was aware of the possible chemistry that might flare to life between them. His contentment increased, and he closed his eyes, absorbing her into his eyes, absorbing her into himself. If only…if only it could be like this every day for the rest of his life.
“We belong together, little hellcat,” he told her softly. “You and me. We’re a good team, and I think you’re just realizing that.”
Aly stirred, her leg resting across Clay’s. Unconsciously, she nuzzled upward, meeting the hard length of his jaw. In her dreams, she heard him speaking to her in a low voice. His arm held her safe and protected. She reveled in the feel of his masculine body against hers. There w
as such strength in him, such gentleness.
Clay groaned as Aly pressed languidly against him. Sweet heaven…Just that one, innocent movement brought him to hot, burning life. He wanted so badly to kiss Aly, to feel her warm, willing mouth beneath his once again. Carefully, so as not to awaken her, Clay gently maneuvered Aly onto her back, his arm beneath her head, cradling her shoulders.
He lay propped on his elbow, looking down at her in the predawn light. Her hair was tousled, and he longed to sift through those errant waves. As his gaze moved downward, Clay realized how long and thick her lashes were against the freckled planes of her cheeks. A beginning of a smile pulled at his mouth. Lifting his free hand, he lightly traced the length of her thin, aristocratic nose. She was a lady, through and through. His fingers trailed downward, and against all his better judgment, Clay barely touched her parted lips.
Aly’s torrid dream state had her lying in Clay’s arms. She felt his fingertips outlining the shape of her mouth, and a smile unconsciously curved them upward. With a sigh, she turned her cheek, feeling his palm cradle her face. The longing for Clay, for his touch, continued, and she nuzzled deeply into his hand, seeking, needing his warmth.
“Sweet Aly,” Clay whispered, leaning over, his mouth resting against her cheek. Her skin was delicate, inviting, and he kissed her gently.
Aly felt his mouth against her cheek, and she turned her head, seeking him. Where did a dream end and reality begin? It was so real, her heart picking up in pounding beat as she felt his hand slide across her hip, bringing her against him. She wanted him so badly. A whimper broke from her as his mouth slid across the expanse of her cheek.
With a low groan, Clay covered Aly’s waiting lips. She was incredibly soft, her mouth molding hotly to his. Fire shattered all his resolve, and he drank of her, tasting her, teasing her into wakefulness within his arms.
The instant Clay’s mouth touched her own, Aly drew out of the folds of the twilight she lingered in. It wasn’t a dream, it was wonderful reality. Dragging her lashes upward, she met and drowned in the hungry flame in his gray eyes. His mouth was cajoling, teasing, erasing her momentary panic and fear. He tasted so male, and with abandonment, Aly responded to his offering. His hand sliding across her rear, moving her against him, increased her sense of urgency. He was hard and ready and she melted within his embrace, swept away by the heat he shared with her.
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