The Great Escape

by Cheryl Anne Porter

Leaning over her, close enough to smell her hair, and with his hands again braced on the armrests, Dan planted a tender kiss on her forehead, her nose. “Name it.”

  “Good.” She one-handedly pushed him away and became all female business. “Remember that lobby gift shop by the stairs?”

  Too late wary, Dan straightened up. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Well, I could really use some makeup. And something to read—a woman’s magazine. Not that hunting or car stuff. Oh, and I need clean underwear, too—size 4. And warm socks. And remember that really cute sweater that was hanging in the window? The green and maroon and blue one, cable-knit, kind of bulky, with the little-children-of-the-world scenes knitted into it? Get that in a medium. And make sure the socks go with the sweater.”

  “Make sure the socks,” he heard himself repeating and shut up, staring at her. “Anything else?”

  She gave every appearance of thinking about it before pointing at him and blurting, “A candy bar. Anything chocolate—with nuts.”

  Dan nodded at this red-haired, green-eyed creature chained in his bedroom. What time was it when he lost control of her and the situation? “A candy bar, chocolate with nuts. I’m really scared to ask, but is that all?”

  She shrugged. “For now. Oh, and if you have any money left over, get yourself something nice.”

  He nodded his head fatalistically. “Yeah. Thanks. I will.”

  “You will? What’re you going to get? I may want some, too.”

  Dan grinned all over himself and tousled her hair. “You can have all you want, greedy. Trust me, I’m more than willing to share what I’m buying.”

  She cocked her head, her expression changing to curious. She couldn’t stand it—he knew it Sure enough, she blurted, “What’re you getting?”

  “A great big, brand-new, shiny box of…condoms.” Her shocked gasp accompanied him as he strode away from her with an exaggerated swagger. When he got to the door and gripped the knob, Dan turned back to her, saw her reddened face and winked. Then he opened the door, peered into the narrow hallway, checking left and right. Deserted. Stepping out of the room, feeling smug, as though he’d gotten her that time, he started pulling the door closed behind himself.

  “Dan?” Joan called out.

  Somebody wants the last word. Grinning, he pushed the door open enough to allow for peering back into the blue-and-tan-wallpapered room. She’d stood up from the chair. He raised his eyebrows and said, “The name’s Ken. But how can I help you?”

  “Let me show you.” Instantly, her expression became slinky, sensual. With her free hand she unknotted her robe and allowed it to gap open…just enough. She was naked underneath. Simpering like a silver-screen vamp, with her voice a husky, breathless whisper, she breathed, “Don’t be gone long. Or I may be forced to take up with the first keytoting, sexy pilot-slash-sheriff named Dan to walk through that door.”

  A LITTLE WHILE LATER, Joan stopped in the act of crossing her legs when a key scraped in the lock. She stared at the door. Tell me he forgot something. Because if this isn’t Dan, I have to start gnawing. The door jerked open and in strode Dan. Relief cut through her like a bolt of lightning. But it was short-lived, that relief was. Because the deputy didn’t say a word to her. With only a dark-eyed stare directed her way, he closed the door behind him.

  For her part, Joan stared back wide-eyed as he just stood there, clutching a bulging, white-plastic shopping bag that bore the lodge’s gift-shop logo. What was wrong with him? Had he never seen a terry-robed woman chained in his bedroom before? Aha…there it is. She glanced down at her all-but-naked self. Lots of skin showing. It probably explained that intense, hot-eyed stare that heated her, like the fire in the grate.

  Joan drifted her gaze over to the shopping bag that dangled from his left hand. She glanced back to his face and raised an eyebrow in question. He eyed her a moment longer before turning that same scrutiny on the bag, holding it up and out in front of him as if he had no idea how or when it became attached to him.

  But he didn’t fool her. She knew what was in that bag, what it was he wanted her to find. Just to prolong his agony, though, she purposely ignored it to ask, “Did you and Mark find anybody suspicious in the guest register?”

  He never looked away. His hot, assessing eyes roved over her. “No. You’re safe here.”

  Oh, so we don’t like to talk when we’re aroused. Joan tilted her head, causing her unbound hair to fall forward in a sensuous slide over her shoulder. “Good. I’m glad.”

  He nodded. “Me, too. But the phone lines are still down.”

  “Too bad.” She expected him, at any moment, to jump on her, half wished he would. Then, affecting nonchalance, she finally nodded her chin toward the bag he held. “What you got there?”

  A black eyebrow winged up. “Stuff.”

  “I bet.” Joan bit back a grin and again purposely delayed him in his erotic mission. “You’re breathing heavy, Sheriff. Did you knock yourself out getting back here so fast?”

  “Do I look tired to you?”

  Far from it, Joan thought and crossed her legs. Wantonly. With a lot of opening-of-the-robe over her bare thighs.

  He noticed. And sucked all the air in the room right up through his flared nostrils. Then his tongue tipped out to wet his lips. He flicked his gaze back to her face. “What was the question?”

  Poor baby. He was undone. But, excited by this highly charged and sensual small talk, cloaked in seemingly mundane words, Joan breathed out, “I didn’t ask one. You did.”

  His eyebrows worked. His mouth twitched. He frowned. “I did?”

  Joan grinned at his stiff Gunfight at the OK Corral stance. “You aren’t getting any blood to your brain right now, are you?”

  “No, I’m not, thanks to you and your legs. It’s all in my pants.” With that, he jerked toward the unmade bed and upended onto it the shopping bag’s contents. From what Joan could see, he’d bought her everything she’d asked for. Even the sweater. Now she felt bad. She’d been teasing about all that stuff. Oh, he’s so sweet.

  Rummaging through the jumbled items, he snatched up his prize and turned to her, holding it up. A whole box of condoms. “For us,” he said.

  “Well, forget that thought. You aren’t sweet.”

  “I might be—you don’t know…yet.” With that, Dan’s expression again intensified, darkening with desire.

  An answering bolt of heat arced through Joan, warming her body, her thoughts. This man wanted her. And he was every inch the healthy, red-blooded, sexually mature adult male that he appeared to be. And she wanted him. Now.

  “Uncuff me.” Was that whiskey voice hers?

  Dan tossed the box onto the nightstand and strode to her with all the self-assurance of a prowling jungle cat. Standing in front of her, staring down at her, he wordlessly reached into his jeans’ pocket. His muscles bunched under his knit shirt in an unconscious display of male grace and power. Joan all but slid out of the chair to the carpet.

  He finally and mercifully came up with the key and freed her, stepping back to allow her room to stand. In a desire-fogged glide, she came to her feet. Dan immediately snagged her robe’s ties and looped them around his hands, pulling her close. His gaze slid from her face to those exposed parts of her body now bared to his eyes.

  She watched his face as he roved his gaze over her form. Then he met her eyes. “You’re like a banquet. And I’m a starving man. You are so damned beautiful. I knew you would be.”

  Joan’s breath came through her opened mouth. “Love me, Dan.”

  “Nothing would make me happier,” he whispered as he freed his hands to slip them inside her robe. His fingers were long and strong, his skin warm, his touch questing. He encircled her waist, smoothing his hands around her ribs, settling them against her back. Abruptly, possessively, he pulled her to him. Joan gasped at the hunger evident in his eyes. Dan then claimed her mouth in the most soulful kiss she’d ever experienced.

  She went up on tiptoe, her arms findi
ng their own way around his neck. He felt so good and hot and hard against her. Even with his gun under his shirt and wedged between their bodies. Dan’s hands slid to her buttocks, cupped them, held her against him as his mouth took hers, demanding more and more from her. When he finally broke their kiss, he was having as much trouble breathing as she was.

  “I’ve wanted to do this,” he said huskily, his eyelids drooping sexily, “from the first second I opened the door to Interview Room 3.”

  Joan fisted her hands in his hair and smiled up at him. “Like I told you yesterday, I would’ve let you.”

  His eyes widened at her words. “Oh, son of a…” he murmured on an exhalation of warm breath. As if time was suddenly a factor, he smoothed the robe off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. His breath caught again. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Sitting her on it, he swiped all his purchases off the sheets and started undressing.

  Arranging herself against the pillows at her back, Joan greedily watched. He breathed in as he tugged his shirt up to pull his gun free and set it on the nightstand. Then he undid his belt and popped open his pants’ closure in two smooth motions. Not looking away from her, he finished tugging his knit shirt out of his jeans and, crossing his arms, grabbed its ends and lifted it off over his head.

  Joan’s fingers went to her mouth, stopping the hungry cry that tipped against her teeth. He was magnificent. Muscled, tanned, broad-shouldered, with a sprinkling of dark and crisply curling black hair adorning his chest, concentrating itself across his pecs and thinning to a line that slipped below his boxers’ waistband. If he didn’t hurry…! As if sensing her thoughts, Dan hurried. He turned and sat on the bed to work his boots and socks off. Then he stood, his back to her, and slid out of his jeans and boxers in one movement.

  That’s it. Joan dam near passed out. What a butt the man had. And the legs of a running-back. And then he turned to face her. Joan stared, heard the little sound she made, and held her hands up and out to him. Dan accepted that invitation. He knelt forward onto the mattress and stalked his way up the bed to her, right between her legs, focusing on her with such naked intent that the geometric planes of his face, its hollows and shadows alone, staggered her.

  And then, Dan settled himself atop her, scooping her into his embrace, lifting her to him, his lips seeking her jaw, her neck, and down to her breasts, which he kissed with the same loving tenderness he had her mouth. Clutching at his arms, her nails digging into his skin, Joan gasped and cried out with need, “I can’t wait, Dan. Now. Please. I need you.”

  Dan raised his head and met her gaze. “All right. This time.” And then rolled off her to reach for the box of condoms. After a few moments of activity, he was back and exploring her body, his every touch claiming her. Joan suspected that in her entire life she’d never want any other man but this one to have his hands on her.

  Dan now settled at her side, his leg hooked over hers, drawing hers apart. He kissed her mouth and slipped his hand down to the vee of her legs, stroking the pulsating warmth there until she arched against his hand and moaned into his mouth. Accepting that as his signal, he covered her, settling into the saddle of her hips and pressing against her, seeking entrance. Joan’s body was ready for him, opened for him. He slipped inside her and stilled, sliding his hands under her shoulders to hold her to him.

  She moaned. He all but growled and clung to her. Joan wrapped her legs around his hips and met his first and subsequent powerful thrusts with her own. This way they rocked and rocked together. She pulled his head down to her and kissed his mouth with all the fevered intensity centered in her womb. When their kiss broke, he arched himself upward, slanting more and more into her as she gripped the rock-hard, straining muscles of his arms.

  And then it happened. Their very own rhythm brought them to the coiled pitch of their desire, until all else in the world dropped away, until all else was meaningless. Only this. Only this loving embrace. Joan rode the crest of her hungry wanting, gasping with each undulating spasm that clutched Dan inside her until a hoarse cry escaped him and he went rigid over her. He held himself there for breathless moments before collapsing atop her, drawing her to him and holding her.

  Slick with loving wetness, her hair damp and tangled all around her, Joan stroked Dan’s back and reveled in the sensations. The gentle pulsing of him still inside her. His weight shielding her from an unkind world. His embrace warming her, making her feel safe. She felt as if she and he floated on a cloud to a place where, as long as this man was there, the skies were blue forever.

  After a quiet, content while, Dan roused, raising onto his elbows to brace himself above her. His face still dusky with desire, his mouth wet with her kiss, he grinned at her, devastating her with his sated sensuality. He shook his head slowly, saying, “It’s like I’ve known you all my life. We just…fit together. Like we were made for each other and have already done this a million times.”

  Joan blinked and grinned at him, thrilled that there was none of the “afterward” awkwardness. Her arms went around his neck. “A million times, huh?”

  “Well, until the condoms run out.”

  Joan stilled, raised her chin. “And then?”

  “And then we’ll buy more.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  Joan chuckled and smacked at his arm. Dan shifted his weight, withdrew and rolled off her. “Think we can hit the one-million mark before this snow melts?” Then, lying flat out, looking like a model of male perfection painted by one of the Old Masters, he reached for the telephone on the nightstand, lifted the receiver off the hook and began pushing numbers.

  Joan turned on her side. “What are you doing? The phone lines are dead.”

  Crossing his legs at the ankles, he glanced over at her as he put the receiver to his ear. “Are they?”

  She waited. He didn’t hang it up, but he did grin and wink at her. Coming to wary attention, Joan sat up. “Dan Hendricks, who are you calling? And why?”

  He waved her to silence. “Shh. I’m calling the gift shop to see how many more boxes of condoms they have.”

  She laughed at this unexpected bit of fun from him and fell back against the pillows, watching him, reveling in the sight of his naked glory. “You are not.”

  He again flapped a hand at her to be quiet. “Shh. I got someone here. Hello? This is Dan Hendricks, up in room 412. I’ve got a pretty hot babe in my bed, and I was wondering how many—”

  Joan screeched and made a dive for him.

  WHICH WAS MORE DISTRACTING? Joan tried to decide. Dan’s big and sprawling body pushed up next to her on the comfy couch, tucked into an alcove of the third-floor library? Or his heated murmurings as she read a muchthumbed romance novel she’d found on the shelves? Having reread the same page five times—aloud to him at his insistence—she sighed and firmly closed the paperback.

  Chuckling and unrepentant, he pulled her to him, nuzzling her ear as he whispered, “Come on, read some more. I like that love scene.”

  “I know.” Nearly panting from his touch, his kiss, the sound of his voice, the words on the page, Joan begged, “Stop it. I’m about to—” She bit back the heated words.

  “Are you—right here? I think I like that. Am I…bothering you, Mrs. Thompson?”

  “All the time.” Joan hit at him, trying her best not to grin. “I missed lunch because of you. And already it’s nearly three o’clock.”

  “Can’t you just be hungry for me?” he crooned in her ear, his voice no more than a feathery whisper. “You look mighty nice in that new sweater, ma’am. And even nicer out of it Speaking of that, how many more condoms do we have left? Do I need to make a trip to the gift shop? Although that nice lady working there thinks I’m interested in her, as many times as I’ve stopped by.”

  Joan elbowed his ribs. “Will you stop that? You have been in there one time. And you didn’t call anybody, you big fake. There wasn’t even a dial tone.” She moved his questing hand away from her…thigh, and warned, “Sto
p it. I can only take so much. And you’re embarrassing me. You do know we’re not alone, don’t you?”

  “Aren’t we?” His husky voice made the words an endearment, but he pulled away to. lean forward until he could see the room at large. “Oooh, baby,” he crooned as he sat back, staring at her. “Houston, we have a problem.”

  Dread for what she’d see swamped Joan. “Oh, no,” she groaned, following his gaze. Yep. There they were. The whites of the old folks’ eyes as they stared in wary attentiveness. Well, she’d certainly done her work here, hadn’t she? She laid her book down, telegraphing a reassuring smile and a shake of her head to signal that Dan wasn’t having an episode.

  “Quit that.” Dan yanked her back to him.

  Seeing the amused twinkling in his eyes that belied his show of…distemper, Joan wrinkled her nose at him. “Well, your behavior is shocking them, Sheriff. Now behave— you’re being bad.”

  He chuckled. “I told you—it’s part of my charm.” He smoothed her hair back so he could rub his knuckle up and down her neck. “Besides, I thought you liked it when I was bad. That was you, wasn’t it, upstairs, moaning under me all morning? And part of the afternoon?”

  A certain swollen, tender part of Joan’s anatomy jumped to pulsating life. She elbowed her tormentor’s ribs. “Behave. I’m warning you.”

  “You are? Behave or what?” Dan pulled back, showering her with a dazzling grin.

  Joan crossed her arms as she leaned over to him. “Do you want me to tell them you’re…” She whispered a really decadent something in his ear.

  Dan jerked back, raising his hands as if he’d been placed under arrest. “Point taken, ma’am. Backing off and behaving.”

  A sudden commotion in the cozy room had Joan looking around. Two skittish ladies lurched to their feet, apparently ready to flee. Joan waved a hand to reassure them. “It’s okay. He was just…um, repeating his key phrase that stops unwanted behaviors.” Well, it sounded good to her. “Now, please stay, Mrs. Compton, Mrs. Edwards. You too, Mr. Garrison.”