The blackness was terrifying. The earth shuddered convulsively beneath Alanna, and she inhaled sharply, realizing it wasn’t all a nightmare. Matt had already sat up, reaching outward to pull her into his arms. With a small cry, Alanna groped blindly, falling against his warm, hard body. Burying her head against his shoulder, she let the sobs escape.
“It’s all right,” Matt soothed, his voice still husky with sleep. He stroked her hair, holding her tightly against him. “Just aftershocks, Babe. Shh, you’re safe.”
Alanna shut her eyes tightly, more tears escaping, to fall soundlessly against his naked shoulder. The roaring sound died away, and suddenly, the ground stilled beneath them. But the terror of the nightmare and the earthquake had totally shattered her fragile composure. She lay against Matt, arms entwined around his waist, frozen with fear.
“Expect a few more shocks after this one,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her hair. “We’ll be safe out here. There are no buildings to collapse around us. Come on,” he urged gently, “lie back down with me, there’s nothing we can do.”
Alanna remained within the asylum of his embrace, thankful for the protection it afforded her. His roughened fingers grazed her cheek.
“Tears?” he questioned. He forced himself up on one elbow, leaning over her in the darkness. “You woke up screaming, Babe. Bad dreams?”
Shakily, she brushed the wetness from her cheeks. “Yes,” she answered thickly. “Oh, God. My life’s such a mess….”
He smiled tentatively, caressing her temple, pushing a strand of hair away and tucking it behind her ear. “No, it isn’t. You’re just starting another cycle of growing, that’s all,” he explained gently.
She made a wry face. She lay on her side, her body fitting snugly beside him. His quiet maleness seemed almost a palpable thing. How did he know she needed to be touched? To be caressed and calmed? Each grazing touch of his fingers against her face and neck sent little tingles of pleasure throughout her tense body. And each stroke relaxed her a bit more until, finally, she felt the fear slipping away. The tent was comfortable despite the damp coldness outside. Heat radiated from his body, his male scent a heady fragrance to her sensitive nostrils. Finally, as if sensing she was better, Matt lay back down, pulling the blanket over them.
It was good to be with a man again. There was a natural instinct to turn on her side, pressing against him, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. Her arm slid across his chest in an unconscious gesture. Alanna felt him shift slightly, his hand gently caressing her back. “Go to sleep,” he whispered huskily, his breath warm against her face.
Her thick lashes fell softly against her cheeks, and she sighed. With his arms about her, Alanna quickly fell back to sleep. For the first time in her life, she felt completely safe.
She awoke slowly. Beneath her ear, she could hear the steady, rock-solid beat of Matt’s heart. It sounded like a strong drum beating within his chest, and she languished on the edge of slumber, content. The silken hair covering his broad chest tickled her nose. Reluctantly, Alanna pulled her hand from its resting place across his flat stomach, rubbing her nose. Opening her eyes, she realized with a shock that sometime during the night she had placed her slender leg over his. Violent emotions suddenly replaced her drowsy contentment. For an instant, she tensed. Matt stirred in his sleep, his hand moving across her hip and coming to rest at her waist.
Outside the tent, the tropical birds were beginning to awaken to an unseen sun, chirping in melodic patterns. Matt’s heart beat changed, pulsing more strongly beneath her ear. His face was barely inches from her own, and Alanna’s eyes widened as she watched him wake up. His features, usually imperturbable, were boyishly readable. The shadowed darkness of a day’s growth of beard made his cheeks seem more gaunt. But the lines of tension around his generous mouth had disappeared, and so had the scowl that seemed to hover between his brows. Her lips parted as she gloried in the discovery of his vulnerability during those fleeting, precious seconds. Why did people have to hide their true selves? Matt looked approachable now and so very, very human. She frowned, thinking of herself. How much did she hide inside? He seemed to be able to lift the facade she had built around herself and see the real Alanna. The thought wasn’t disturbing. She was safe with him.
Another more painful thought interrupted her musings. It would always be between them. The question had to be answered: Was he stealing medical supplies and selling them to the guerrillas?
Alanna gently extricated herself and found her ill-fitting trousers, squirming into them. What would the senator have to say about her sleeping with the man she was supposed to be investigating? She compressed her lips, struggling into the oversized combat boots. Part of her heart cried out at the unfairness of the situation. Alanna fought against her feelings for Matt. She couldn’t get involved! Not now. Not until this whole investigation was over and his name was cleared. A feeling of panic shook her. What if Matt were guilty? Her heart was filled with pain. Despite the senator’s inflammatory statements, Alanna had found nothing about Matt Breckenridge thus far that supported those accusations. Sighing heavily, she finished the last lace and turned, looking directly into Matt’s gray eyes.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
She sat very still, her heart hammering wildly in her breast. Awakened, he looked like that mountain jaguar her mind had so vividly created. He lay naked to the waist, the blanket covering his lower body. The play of muscles beneath his flesh was beautiful to watch. Nowhere on his magnificently sculpted body was there an ounce of fat. The dark hair on his arms and chest accentuated his maleness leaving Alanna helplessly ensnared by her attraction for him. Her own body traitorously responded to his nearness, and she quickly clamped down on her desires. This was no time or place to think of falling in love with a man. Especially Matt Breckenridge.
Alanna choked back a gasp: falling in love? Good God! Where had she concocted that nonsense? Panic overrode her coolly detached logic as the entire idea sank in. She avoided his gaze, pretending to busy herself with her long, braided hair.
“Did you sleep well after the ground settled down?” he asked.
“Yes.” She turned, biting her lower lip, realizing her voice sounded strident and off-key. “I’m sorry. I just keep thinking of all that has to be done today,” she offered, lying.
He seemed to accept her moodiness with good grace, sitting up and searching for a clean T-shirt. Shrugging it over his head, he pulled it down. “Then you didn’t have any more nightmares?”
“No….”
He gave her a disarming smile, slipping on the utility shirt. “I’m glad those earth tremors happened along.”
Alanna’s brows drew downward. “You would be.”
Matt rested his arms against his blanketed knees. “You have to enjoy life one moment at a time,” he reminded her. A slow grin pulled at his mouth. “And unless you want to stick around and see the rest of me, I have to get my trousers on. You’re welcome to stay of course.”
She blushed hotly. “I’m leaving,” she muttered hastily, climbing out of the tent.
The chill of the early morning made her shiver. She wrapped her arms about her body, standing over the blackened area that had served as a fire the night before. Matt came out minutes later, fully dressed. He seemed buoyant this morning, and Alanna found herself responding to him despite the turmoil of her feelings.
Matt looked around, pursing his lips. “If I’m not imagining things, it looks like this fog is beginning to thin.” He glanced over at her, beginning to build another fire. “Keep your fingers crossed that when the sun rises it will burn this stuff off.”
She sat on one of the logs that Matt had found for her and watched him. “And if it does?”
“That means I can get those choppers up, supplies moving, and most importantly, the injured down off this mountain.”
“Another sixteen-hour day for you?”
“Twenty-four to forty-eight will be more like it if the weather gods smile
on us.”
Alanna smiled wistfully, cradling her chin in her palms. Shortly, the fire was popping and crackling, and she edged closer, beginning to warm up. Matt came over, placing his large, bulky jacket across her shoulders.
“This ought to help. Now, what do you feel like for breakfast?”
She thought about it for a moment, dizzied by his closeness. How easy it would have been to make a half-turn and walk back into his arms. As easy as lying beside him last night in the tent. Alanna pushed those pleasant thoughts aside. “I’m really not hungry, Matt….”
He frowned. “You’re going to eat anyway. We’ve got a hard day in front of us if this fog lifts.”
How could she eat? She was thinking of him, of her body’s aching need for him and his electrifying touch. It was impossible to think when he was so near!
“I can’t offer you eggs Benedict, but how about some scrambled eggs instead?”
“Y-yes, that would be fine.”
“Coffee?”
Her lips parted. “Are you serious?”
Matt grinned, a twinkle in his gray eyes. “Have I ever lied to you yet?”
“That’s one of your saving graces,” she muttered. “Honesty at every turn.”
He couldn’t resist a retort. “Something that our great senators and representatives know little of up on the Hill.”
“I suppose you include me in that generalization?” she asked, stung.
Matt rummaged through his pack, finding the necessary ingredients for their breakfast. “You couldn’t lie if you tried,” he returned equitably. “Your eyes give you away, you know.”
Alanna felt heat creeping back into her face. My God, was he reading what she felt toward him? Nervously, she buried her hands in the huge pockets of the jacket, pretending not to hear his comment.
Over breakfast, Matt continued his pleasant banter. Alanna marveled at his ability to make small talk under such circumstances: they were out in the middle of a Costa Rican jungle, where disease was rampant and people’s homes and very lives had been destroyed.
“So tell me, what is the apartment you live in like?” he asked, sipping the steaming coffee.
Alanna watched him warily. “Why would you want to know?”
Shrugging, he said, “Curiosity. To see if what I’ve imagined it’s like is close to reality.”
“You make a point of comparing furniture labels to the person?”
“Labels don’t mean a thing to me. Usually you can visualize what people are like by the way they decorate their homes or apartments.”
She moved uncomfortably on the log, not wanting him to ferret out any more information about her. “Why don’t you tell me about your apartment instead,” she challenged.
“Fair enough,” he agreed, the smile reaching his eyes. “Actually, I don’t rent an apartment. I live in McLean, Virginia, and own a house in a fairly wooded area.”
“A home?” she echoed. “I didn’t know Marines made enough money to buy houses over there in that posh section.”
“I saved a lot of my pay by being overseas for so long.”
“You don’t like apartments?”
“No. I don’t like being crowded in with other people.”
“Antisocial?”
Matt grinned. “In a way, I suppose. I was born in Maine, and you know what people say about natives of that state.”
“They mind their own business and maintain that cool New England veneer. You don’t seem very cool, though.”
He wrapped his strong, darkly brown fingers about the aluminum cup. “Only when I have to be. Being in the service forces you do become more of a social animal.”
“Do your parents still live in Maine?”
“They did up until their death. I still own a cabin up there on the river.”
Alanna took a sip of her coffee. “I’m sorry about your parents….”
He shrugged, losing some of his natural warmth. “It happened a long time ago.”
“I never thought you would own a home and a cabin. Even by Hill standards, you’re quite well off,” she commented.
“I do what I enjoy doing. How about you?”
She gave a slight shrug. “I earn a good living,” she evaded.
“That’s all?”
Her eyes darkened. “What else is there?”
Matt slowly rose, grinning. “Oh, a run in the morning with your dog when the grass still has dew on it, fishing on a bank getting warmed by the sun. Little things. Important things. Ever fished?”
She shook her head. “I’m a city girl through and through.”
“That’s a shame. Bet you’ve never been to Maine, have you?”
“Never.”
“See what six or so years of college will get you?” he teased.
Grimacing, she stood. “Don’t remind me. That and a relationship that made me feel like a prisoner.” She handed him the cup.
Their fingers touched, and Alanna drew hers away first. Matt stood there, watching her with interest.
“Well, that’s behind you now,” he returned.
“Not quite in the past tense,” she said unhappily. “As you can see, I’m still acting out of a lot of ingrained habits formed during those years.”
“Oh, logic versus feelings.”
“Yes.”
“Well, in three days you’ve certainly made strides toward freeing up your emotions,” he noted wryly.
Alanna grinned up at him. “You’re enough to try anybody’s logic.”
He smiled fully. “I happen to like you this way. And if I’ve had a hand in unleashing the real Alanna, I’ll take my due applause.”
She moved away from his overpowering presence, sitting back down on the log. He washed the cups and plates, neatly repacking them. “Can I help you in some way?” she offered.
“No, just sit there looking beautiful while I break down the tent.”
She blushed. Beautiful? Here in the mud, needing a bath, with her hair in two long braids? She watched him, curiosity overcoming her wariness. “Do you own a dog, Matt?”
He nodded. “Actually it’s the other way around. Megan thinks she owns me.”
“Megan, that’s a lovely name. What is she?”
He looked up. “One of the biggest Irish wolfhounds you’ll ever see.”
She gave him a stricken look. “I’ve never seen one.”
“They’re somewhat rare.”
“Like you,” she added.
“Thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment. When I’m home, I get up at six every morning and jog five miles with Megan before going in to work. She’s one of the reasons I chose to buy a house with some acreage. You just can’t pen a big dog like that up and expect it to be happy.”
Alanna pulled up her legs, sliding her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees. He was so easy to listen to. She closed her eyes, content.
“You have to understand wolfhounds,” he went on. “They think they’re people and demand a large share of your attention when they can get it. Megan acts as my alarm clock and promptly leaps on the bed at six every morning.”
Alanna suppressed her laughter, envisioning the episode. “Somehow,” she said drolly, “I can’t see you taking orders from anyone.”
Matt pulled out the stakes the held the tent. “Under certain circumstances, I’m very docile and trainable.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You’ll see.”
Alanna’s eyes flew open. “What?”
He straightened up. “I told you that after this mess is over down here I intend to see you on less businesslike terms.”
Her heart beat wildly for a few seconds as she stared up at him. He seemed such a natural part of the jungle at that moment. A man completely in tune with nature. A frown formed on her brow.
“Aren’t you worried that I might uncover some nasty facts in this investigation?”
“No. I told you before, I’m innocent, and so are my men.”
“You co
uld be wrong,” she said stubbornly.
He turned, resting one hand loosely on his hip as he stared across the distance between them. “You ought to know by now, Alanna, I don’t lie. I’ve made my share of mistakes as a human being, but I don’t actively go out to harm someone else.”
In her mind she heard the senator’s voice insisting that it was Matt Breckenridge’s mistake that cost his only son his life in Vietnam. She inhaled deeply, genuinely confused. “Mistakes can get you into just as much trouble as a lie can,” she whispered tautly, unable to maintain his even stare.
“Do you always form judgments based upon hearsay?”
“I didn’t ask for this assignment, dammit!” she flared, leaping to her feet. She remained tense, fists clenched at her sides. “I didn’t know a thing about you until I went to work for him, but then I heard plenty. I’ll admit I came down here prejudiced against you. But now I just want to know the truth. Hate eats up a person, and the senator hates you. Right or wrong, he’s after you.”
Matt knelt over the tent halves, folding them precisely. “One of these days,” he began softly, “I may tell you the truth of what happened out there.”
She gave him a bewildered look. “If he is wrong, Matt, then why don’t you just prove it to him? I don’t understand!”
He finished the packing and rose, looking distant and withdrawn. “Looks like the fog is finally going to dissipate. Once the sun rises, we ought to be in good shape.” He looked over at her, his face unreadable once again. “Come on, let’s get you situated at the main loading area. I want to meet with Captain Jackson and get those choppers warmed up.”
Frustrated by his sudden change of mood, Alanna walked awkwardly toward the village with him. Twice within half an hour she had seen him withdraw into a shell. Once when she mentioned his parents and the other time over the incident in Vietnam. Stumbling, she nearly fell into a large rut. Matt’s hand shot out, quickly catching her. Alanna rested momentarily within his arms, and she looked up to see him smiling faintly, the warmth returning to his veiled gray eyes.
Captive of Fate Page 7
