Uncut Bundle

by Susan Stephens

  Her laugh was soft and sexy. “Is this trouble?” she whispered as she ran her hands lightly down his back.

  “Keep it up,” he said, smiling, “and it will be.”

  “What a lovely promise.”

  Cam kissed her again. Her mouth was early-morning sweet, her skin carried the scent of their lovemaking. He cupped her breast, lowered his lips to the tip and played his tongue over it.

  Salome closed her eyes. A sweet moan trembled in her throat.

  He had made love to her again during the night, taking her slowly, lingering over the secrets of her body, but time was becoming their enemy.

  “Sweetheart.” Cam paused. “We have to get up.”

  Her sigh of acceptance whispered against his throat. “I know.”

  “We’ll try the cell phone,” he said, hoping he sounded as if he had every confidence he’d have better luck today than last night. “And I want to question Shalla. There has to be some kind of transportation here that I just haven’t seen. A car. A truck. Something.”

  “I just wish…”

  “Yes?”

  “I wish,” she said softly, “oh, I wish…”

  “I know,” he said, and despite all his good intentions, he drew her into his arms and kissed her again, his kisses deepening, his body quickening as she responded to him.

  “Cameron,” she whispered breathlessly, and he forgot everything but this, the feel of her as he guided her over him, the heat of her as he brought her down onto his erection, the look on her face as he filled her.

  “Salome,” he said, and she shuddered, flung back her head and rode him until the universe shattered.

  A servant girl, eyes downcast, brought them clothes.

  “My mistress wishes to know if you would like to take breakfast in the garden.”

  Cam said they would, and she bowed her way out.

  They bathed, and diligently kept their hands off each other. Then they dressed. White linen trousers and a matching silk sweater for Leanna, chinos and a white T-shirt for Cam. There were leather sandals for them both.

  His Salome looked beautiful in the new outfit, so beautiful that it was hard to leave the little world they’d created, but Cam knew they had to.

  He knelt beside the bed, felt underneath it for the gun he’d stashed between the mattress and the springs. Leanna watched him tuck it into his waistband, then pull his shirt down over it.

  “Do you think—do you think something’s going to happen this morning?”

  “What I think,” he s aid quietly, “is that it’s best to be prepared.” He hesitated. “Why don’t I go downstairs, have a little talk with our hostess, check things out and then you can join me for… What’s the matter?”

  “You’re not going downstairs without me.”

  He decided not to argue. Until he knew more, he’d feel better keeping his Salome close. Not that he’d be much protection to her if Asaad’s men stormed the palace, but he had a gun.

  He’d use it against the enemy…and use it to keep Salome from falling into the sultan’s vicious hands, if it came to that.

  What he was thinking must have shown in his face because she came close to him and put her arms around him.

  “No matter what happens,” she whispered, “I want to be with you.”

  “Sweetheart.” Cam cleared his throat. “If things should go bad—if there’s no way out—”

  She drew his head down to hers and kissed him. “I know,” she whispered, and when he looked into her eyes, he realized that she did.

  They ate on the terrace, under a clear blue sky. A lattice-work of vines arched over their heads, shielding them from the sun. Birds fluttered in the trees, and brilliantly hued butterflies swooped over a bed of pale pink roses.

  Shalla appeared while they were having their coffee. Was everything to their liking? The food, the clothes? She sounded like the friendly proprietor of an upscale B and B, Cam thought, and admitted to himself what he’d known all along.

  He didn’t trust her.

  All the more reason to phrase his question carefully.

  “I don’t see any vehicles,” he said. “Surely there must be some.”

  “Vehicles?”

  “Yes. Trucks. Cars.” When she looked at him blankly, his voice hardened. “Something that brings in supplies.”

  “Ah. We are self-sufficient here, my lord. We grow our own food, shear our own sheep. Everything you see was made by us.”

  The silk and linen clothing? The ornate furnishings? The exotic foods? Cam wasn’t buying it but he knew better than to call Shalla a liar to her face.

  “Very impressive, but who is ‘us’? I haven’t seen anyone except you and one servant.”

  “Oh, there are others in the village.”

  The village. For the first time, he felt a stir of hope. “Where is this village?”

  “It is not far, sir.”

  “Surely there must be some sort of transportation there?”

  “A few wagons and mules, that is all.”

  Wagons and mules against a fleet of Humvees. Still, that was something. They’d make better time than if they walked. Besides, Cam had lifted Salome’s feet to his lips for kisses when they made love this morning. The toes on one foot were red and swollen. When he’d asked about it, she’d brushed his question aside.

  “My feet are the toughest part of me,” she’d said. “Dancers get used to a little pain. Sometimes, we go off-stage with blood in our shoes.” She’d laughed at his shocked expression. “We only look fragile, Cameron. It’s part of the illusion.”

  A wagon it would be, he thought, and smiled politely at Shalla.

  “In that case, I’d like to visit your village as soon as possible.”

  A look swept over her face. It was fleeting but it set off a warning bell in his head. The sooner they got that wagon and a couple of mules, the better.

  “Of course, sir. I have some chores to attend to first. I will take you when the sun is high over the palace. Is that suitable?”

  The whole damned situation wasn’t suitable, but what could he do to change it?

  “It’s fine,” Cam said briskly. “Just fine.”

  Leanna waited until Shalla was gone. Then she leaned close to Cam.

  “Wagons and mules? That’s all they have?”

  “So the lady claims.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “What I believe,” he said carefully, “is that wagons and mules are all we’re going to get. Hey, look at the bright side. We won’t have to worry about finding gas stations.” She smiled up at him and he wrapped his arm around her. “One way or another, I’ll do whatever it takes to get you home.”

  “To get both of us home,” she said, her eyes locked to his. “I don’t want to go home unless it’s with you, Cameron. Do you understand?”

  He saw the expression in her eyes and he knew what she was telling him.

  She thought she’d fallen in love with him.

  He knew better.

  What she felt, what he felt, was a wild blur of sexual passion and danger, heightened for her because he was her first lover; heightened for him because—because…

  Because she was special.

  But it wasn’t love.

  He didn’t believe in love. Not that kind. He loved his country. His brothers. The men who’d fought and bled beside him. But the June-moon thing was the creation of cheap songs and bad movies. People who let themselves believe it existed left themselves weak and vulnerable.

  Why else would his mother have tolerated his father’s coldness? His constant disapproval?

  Why else would she have succumbed to illness and died?

  No, Cam didn’t believe in love. In the power of sex, yes. Add danger to the mix and you had a potent brew. A memorable one. He didn’t love Salome and she didn’t love him. She only thought she did and he—he only thought—he only thought—

  To hell with what he thought.

  Cam slipped his hands into his dancer�
�s hair and lifted her face to his. Then he kissed her, slowly, telling her with his kiss that he would protect her with his life.

  Honor was an emotion he understood.

  “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart.”

  “Is it possible… Could Asaad have given up looking for us?”

  Given up? No way. Despite overwhelming odds, two people had escaped from Baslaam. They’d outwitted a small, well-equipped army. Instead of a contract worth millions, Asaad had suffered a humiliating loss of face.

  Still, a little hope never hurt.

  “Anything’s possible,” he said gruffly.

  Leanna sighed and leaned against him. His arms tightened around her until she couldn’t tell where her heartbeat ended and his began.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “Anything’s possible.”

  Cam kissed her. For another little while, they could go on living in a dream.

  They tried the cell phone half a dozen times. From the front steps, from the garden, and, finally, from beside the pool.

  No success. The phone couldn’t pick up a signal.

  “They never work when you want them to,” Leanna said. She’d meant to sound matter-of-fact. Instead she suspected she’d sounded defeated. “Maybe later. Maybe whatever satellite it uses isn’t in the right position. Maybe—”

  Cam reached for her hand and drew her down onto the soft grass.

  “There’s no sense worrying about it, Salome. Another hour, Shalla will take me to the village and—”

  “Us,” Salome said. “She’ll take us to the village.”

  “No.” Gently he laid her back on the grass. “I’m going by myself.”

  “Suppose it’s a trap. Suppose Asaad’s men are waiting in that village.”

  “Suppose you do as I say for a change,” he said, softening the words with a smile. “I want you to stay here with the door bolted and the gun beside you.”

  “You can’t go without a gun. I won’t let you.”

  “I can think of better things to do than quarrel.”

  “You’re just trying to change the subject.”

  “Clever woman.”

  “Cam. If—if something should happen—”

  “Nothing will.”

  He sounded positive, but she knew it was for her sake. “I know…but if something should—”

  She squealed as he rolled her beneath him. “Have you always been such a pushy broad?”

  Leanna laughed. “Yes.”

  Cam smiled and tweaked the end of her nose. “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Tell me about you.”

  “The story of my life, you mean? Okay, but I get to ask you a question first.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She pushed up the sleeve of his T-shirt and danced her fingertips over the eagle on his bicep. “Tell me about this.”

  To her delight, he blushed. “It’s just a silly tattoo.”

  “It’s a spectacular tattoo.”

  “You think?” He grinned. “Well, that’s good because my brothers and I think so, too. See, we were born a year apart, so I graduated from high school first. The night before I left for college, we realized it was the first time we were going to be separated.”

  “So you all got the same tattoo?”

  “Yeah. Kid stuff, you know, but then—”

  “Then, it became a bond between you. My brothers would think it was cool.”

  “Are they dancers, too?”

  “My brothers?” Leanna snorted, then erupted in laughter. “Ohmygod, if they ever heard you say that…”

  “No, huh?” he said, laughing with her. He loved her laugh. It was natural, just like her.

  “They’re police officers. Cops. Swat-team guys. They’d beat you up if you called them dancers. Well, no. They probably wouldn’t be able to beat you up. I mean, they’re big, like you. But—”

  “But, they’d try.”

  “Absolutely. They still tease me about ‘the dahnce,’” she said, raising her eyebrows, “whenever they can.”

  Cam plucked a daisy and ran the petals lightly over her mouth.

  “They laugh, but I bet they’re proud as hell of you.”

  “They are now.” She grinned. “Of course, it was different when I first began dancing. I was six and we performed The Nutcracker—do you know what that is?”

  “Trust me,” Cam said dryly, “we have culture as well as barbecue in Texas.”

  “Well, my whole family came to watch, except I didn’t tell them in advance that I was dancing the part of—”

  “The Sugar Plum Fairy?”

  “A doll under the Christmas tree. Meaning, I just sat slumped over and never, ever moved. Oh, I was devastated! I decided to switch from ballet to tap.”

  “Ballet’s loss.”

  “Well, no. Because actually—”

  “Actually, you’re a wonderful dancer.” Cam waggled his eyebrows. “That dance you did for me last night, for example…”

  She blushed. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “I do. Man oh man, when I looked up and saw you…”

  “I’ve never danced like that before. A girl I knew in Vegas tried to convince me to try out for the show she was in but I just couldn’t see myself, you know, doing a—a—”

  “A strip,” Cam said, and grinned when she blushed again. “And a good thing.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes had a dangerous glint. “Because if I thought any other guy had seen you like that, I’d have to kill him.”

  His words thrilled her. What on earth had become of her feminist soul? “You’re very protective.”

  “Yes,” he said bluntly. “Is that bad?”

  “No. Oh, no. I love the way you make me feel. As if—as if you—you really—”

  “As if I really what?”

  Leanna stared up into his eyes. As if you really love me, she thought…but she knew it wasn’t true. Cam was her lover, not the man who loved her.

  “As if you can do anything you set your mind to,” she said.

  Cam’s smile tilted. “I hope that’s true. I hope to hell I can get us out of this, Salome.”

  He kissed her. A long, deep kiss that almost made her die with the pleasure of it.

  “Cam?” she whispered against his mouth. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  His body hardened in instant response.

  “Let’s,” he said softly.

  Rising, he swept her into his arms, and carried her to their sanctuary.

  He undressed her slowly, loving the passion in her face, in his blood. He stroked her, kissed her, brought her to the point where she could do nothing except sob his name. Then he took off his own clothes and carried her to the mirrored wall in the bedroom.

  “Look at how beautiful you are, sweetheart,” he whispered, turning her toward the glass. “God, look at you!”

  Leanna looked.

  Cam had taken her virginity, made love to her, bathed her. He’d kissed every inch of her; nothing about her body was a secret to him anymore. She thought he’d shared every experience with her.

  Now, she knew he hadn’t. Seeing yourself reflected in your lover’s eyes wasn’t the same as looking into a mirror as he made love to you.

  His hands rose, cupped her breasts. She gasped at the rush of sensation, the liquid heat that gathered low in her belly as she saw his thumbs move over her nipples.

  “Watch,” he whispered.

  She couldn’t have torn her gaze from the mirror if she’d tried.

  One of his hands still cupped her breast. The other followed the curve of her waist, her hip, slowly spread over her belly in a gesture so erotically possessive it made her knees buckle.

  “Cam,” she said in a choked voice.

  She felt his mouth at her nape, his teeth against her skin.

  “Watch,” he said again, his voice rough with command.

  He slid his hand between her thighs. She gasped; her body wept warm tears against his palm, then arched like
a bow as the shock of her orgasm transformed her into a quicksilver flash of light.