Natural Attraction

by Marisa Carroll

  “MARK.”

  Jessie’s voice again, calling him back. It was quieter now. They were alone in the quarry. The sun had moved behind the rim. It no longer hurt his eyes. He didn’t feel as bad, either; the dizziness was gone. Most of the pain, except for his knee and shoulder, had receded to a dull ache. His head was in her lap. Was that why he felt better? Her perfume mingled with the smell of crushed grass and sand. What was it? Something simple and nice. Lily of the valley? Lilac?

  “Mark?”

  He opened his eyes. “Where is everybody?” They couldn’t stay here on the quarry floor forever. “Have I been out long?”

  “Only a few minutes. It seems like forever, but my watch says otherwise. Do you feel better?”

  “Compared to what?’

  “You’re better.”

  He could feel her sigh of relief in the touch of her stomach against his cheek. She had a round woman’s belly, not one of those flat concave abdomens that was supposed to denote femininity in today’s mixed-up, crazy world.

  “You scared me silly.”

  “Scared the hell out of myself, too. I can’t remember exactly what went wrong. I think a piece of stone must have broken loose under my foot.”

  “Why didn’t you take my hand?” Her thigh muscles stiffened under the back of his head. The hand that had been smoothing his hair halted its caress.

  “Is that what you’re angry about? Lord, Jess, I outweigh you by sixty pounds. I’d have pulled you over for sure.”

  “How do you know? I’m strong. Stronger than you realize. You could have been killed, you idiot.” Jessie sniffed back a sob.

  “Don’t yell and don’t cry. I don’t feel so well again.” That wasn’t strictly true, but it worked. He’d done what he had to do up there. But he loved Jessie for wanting to save him. He loved her. The knowledge made him dizzy again.

  “Mark.” The exasperation was gone in an instant. She was all softness and caring. “What can I do for you?”

  “A kiss would be nice,” he said, to let her know he was better.

  “Humph.” But she was smiling, the first real smile in a long time. “No kisses now; later. First we have to get you out of this damp old hole.”

  “There isn’t any way but walking.” He couldn’t suppress the groan of pain as he tried to sit up. Jessie held him back, gently but firmly.

  “Let that be a lesson to you. Be patient, the girls are bringing a litter.”

  “A what?”

  “A litter, like the Indians used. Nell dreamed it up. They used birch bark and saplings. We’re going to try polyurethane. I hope it works. Here they come now.”

  She looked over his head, past him to the sloping, shallow edge of the quarry where man-made diggings met the original gradual incline of the island’s interior. Mark closed his eyes, not understanding completely, trying to marshal his strength for a long, uncomfortable walk. He didn’t know how he’d make it back.

  In the end he didn’t have to. The girls had brought the two-man boat. Nell had suggested its use as they kept anxious vigil at his side. At first Jessie had been too distracted. She couldn’t see any merit to the idea. But when Nell explained that her precious wilderness primer had told how to make a sledge—and the improvisation she’d dreamed up on her own—Jessie agreed. Nothing could be worse in her opinion than spending the night in the open with an injured man.

  The trip back to camp was a nightmare that took nearly an hour. Mark endured it with stoic silence. He knew he couldn’t walk. He didn’t want to spend the night in the open any more than Jessie. By the time he was back in his tent he was holding on to consciousness with grim determination; the boat was a ruin, and Jessie and the girls resembled the survivors of a natural catastrophe of great magnitude.

  Jessie didn’t care what she looked like. She was only grateful the ordeal was over. Mark looked exhausted, gray and spent, with deep lines from nose to chin. She didn’t bother him, didn’t fuss about cuts and scrapes; she let him rest undisturbed while she got the girls busy with preparations for the evening meal.

  It never occurred to her to go back to Mark’s tent and search for the radio to summon help. But he’d have been furious. Now that she’d assured herself his injuries, thankfully, weren’t serious, there was no reason to suggest going home, unless Mark decided to do so. She’d promised to stick it out. She didn’t intend to go back on her word.

  The sun was a molten copper ball on the tip of the horizon when she crawled back into Mark’s tent. The light came through the nylon in diffused shades of gold and bronze. Mark was awake, regarding the scrapes and bruises on his arms and chest with a scowl.

  “I feel like hell.”

  “You look like it, too.” Jessie wanted to keep the conversation light. She hadn’t put enough distance between her emotions and recent events to be objective about them—or about her feelings for Mark. They’d deepened alarmingly in the past few hours.

  “I guess it’s poetic justice of a sort. I’m the one who cast the deciding vote to stay out here without a first-aid kit. So I ought to be the one to suffer.”

  “Mark, don’t joke about it.” Jessie sat the basin of warm water and the towel she’d been balancing in one hand down beside his sleeping bag. “I can’t be quite so nonchalant about it yet.” She regarded the small tin of medication in her other hand as if she’d never seen anything like it before. “I want to thank you for saving Nell’s life.”

  “Jessie…”

  “Don’t try to brush it off. I don’t know how I could have managed if something—” her voice broke, but Jessie plowed gamely on “—if I’d lost her like I lost her father.”

  Mark tried for a quip that just missed. “All in a day’s work for us heroes.”

  “All in a day’s work, my foot.” Jessie was clearly miffed. “Mark Elliot, don’t ever let me hear you say such a thing again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned to hide a groan as he flexed his wrenched shoulder. “I’m not up to taking on one of your temper tantrums right now.”

  “Oh, Mark.” Jessie was instantly contrite, as he hoped she’d be. She was a sucker for the lost-puppy routine, he decided happily. “Are you sure your shoulder’s only bruised? And your knee?”

  “The same. All I need is a good night’s sleep.” Or two or three, he added to himself. He was going to be stiff and sore for longer than that. “Jess, do you want to go back? Call it off?”

  “No way. I don’t have nearly enough shots to interest National Geographic. Don’t you trust us to take care of you, Colonel?”

  “I think you can do anything you put your mind to.” The look of strain around his mouth lessened somewhat.

  “You’re correct, sir. We can handle anything. That’s settled then. We’ll stick out this mission till the bitter end. Any more problems?”

  “No, ma’am.” Mark settled back with a grunt.

  Jessie reached behind him to smooth the wrinkles out of his sleeping bag. “I brought some water to get the dirt off you. Feel up to it?”

  Mark lifted his hands to regard the dirt embedded in the scratches along his wrist and palms.

  “Ann and Lyn have soup ready. It smells pretty good, if I do say so myself. Nell is baking corn bread. I’m not sure how that’s going to turn out.” She was prattling again and she knew it, but it certainly beat crying on his shoulder. Relief and reaction had finally caught up to Jessie. Her hands were shaking again; there were huge butterflies banging around in her stomach.

  “Sounds fine.”

  “This shirt is ruined,” Jessie observed, working steadily at the one or two remaining buttons. She was dizzy, and her breathing was shallow and irregular. But this was reaction of a different sort. This was a reaction to Mark, not to his accident. She sucked in her breath sharply when the parted fabric revealed scrapes and lacerations still oozing blood. She hoped Mark would attribute it to his condition and not the effect the sight of so much of him produced on her senses.

  “Lucky my pants are made o
f a lot heavier material,” Mark observed wryly, propping himself on his good elbow to survey the damange that ended at his waistline, except for a scrape on his damanged knee.

  “I’ve got just the thing for it.”

  “What’s that?” Suspiciously, he eyed the bright green tin decorated with red clovers and the head of a particularly contented green cow.

  “Mom makes sure we never travel without it,” Jessie explained innocently. “It’s just a salve, good for what ails you.” She skirted the comment nimbly, hiding the tin between her knees while she sponged the dried blood from his chest and hands.

  “It smells terrible,” Mark decreed, wrinkling his nose.

  “It works.”

  “Let me see the tin.”

  “You don’t need to see anything. Trust me.” Jessie couldn’t hide her laughter as she pushed him gently down onto the sleeping bag. “Give me your hand.”

  “No. Jess, I’m warning you.” Mark looked skeptical and perturbed as well as amused. It was a potent combination. Jessie wanted to lean over and kiss the question mark from between his thick dark brows. Instead, she put a generous portion of the medication on a corner of the towel and passed him the tin.

  “Bag Balm? What the hell…” His voice trailed off as he read the directions. Jessie continued to slather the salve over his chest with studied efficiency. She watched his reaction from beneath her lashes. “‘Veterinary use only. For superficial scratches, abrasions, windburn and sunburn—”’

  “Two out of four ain’t bad,” Jessie giggled as enlightenment dawned on his face.

  “‘Apply after each milking….’ Milking? Jessie, this stuff is for cows! Cows with sore—”

  “Udders?”

  “Or worse.”

  “Stop fussing. It works fine on people, too. We’ve used it for years. It’s great for what ails you. Our vet swears by it—and so do I.”

  “Cow medicine.” He grimaced down at his hand as Jessie worked the medication into the skin. “Ouch! You’re hurting me.”

  “Men are such babies,” Jessie said, clucking and wiping her hands before pouring a glass of tepid water from the thermos in the corner of the tent.

  “Sore udders.” Mark grimaced, glancing at the two pink lozenges Jessie held out to him. “Now what?”

  “Pain pills. Aren’t you glad I came prepared?”

  “They don’t look like aspirin,” Mark observed distrustfully. He hesitated before allowing Jessie to pop them into his mouth.

  “They’re marvelous,” Jessie soothed. “Trust me.” Mark swallowed obediently, washing down the medication with the water she’d poured.

  “Okay, what were they?”

  “Do you really want me to tell you?”

  “No…yes…I’m not sure, but I’d rather know the worst up front.”

  “They’re absolutely the latest thing for menstrual pain.”

  “Oh, God,” Mark moaned in heartfelt agony. “I’ll wake up a soprano.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Jessie giggled, punching the rolled-up blanket he was using as a pillow. “There’s nothing like that in them.” She ticked the points off on her fingers. “They have a pain medication for your head; something to relieve pressure and swelling—that’s for your shoulder and knee—and no caffeine, so you can sleep. Just what the doctor ordered,” Jessie finished triumphantly, a devilish glint lighting her eyes. “Besides, they’re all I’ve got to give you.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not.” She rocked back on her heels, watching him closely as he settled himself more comfortably on the browse bed. “You two scared the hell out of me. Mark, promise me, no more heroics.”

  “It wasn’t heroics, Jess.”

  “I know, I know.” Jessie shook her head in mock defeat. “You did what you had to do.”

  “Always. Just like you.”

  Silence took possession of the small tent. The girls’ voices, involved in earnest discussion, wafted in on a stray breeze. The surf was a lulling, monotonous undertone to every other sound. “I hate to admit it but this stuff’s working already.” Mark’s voice was low, a little slurred. Jessie leaned forward to catch his next words. “I’m tired. Would the girls be offended if I don’t have that soup quite yet?” He looked very serious, as if her answer was of great importance to him, but his eyes were unfocused, distant.

  “Of course not. Sustenance always waits on the invalid in our household. They’ll understand. Do you want anything else before I go?”

  “Yes.” The teasing, caressing note was back in his words. “I want you to stay.” He reached up, locking his wrists behind her neck, pulling her closer but not touching. “There are so many things I want to tell you, Jess.”

  “Shh.” She touched his mouth lightly, sweetly, with delicious restraint. “I know. There’s a lot I want to say to you also.”

  “Tell me now.” He kissed her back, deeply, hungrily, letting their mouths and tongues compensate for a lack of greater physical closeness. She rested her weight on her hands, then on her forearms as she cradled his head, spreading her fingers through the fine, thick layers of his hair, avoiding the bump on the side of his head.

  “I can’t. I don’t have the right words yet. But you’re not to worry about anything for a while. The girls and I will take care of you. It’s our turn to be in charge, to shoulder the load.” She hesitated, searching for her thoughts. “This afternoon had made me see so many things more clearly. I need time to sort it all out.”

  “Exactly. Very important things. Like you and me.” Heavy lids fringed with dark, spiky lashes closed over his remarkable blue eyes. Jessie lifted her head, holding her breath.

  “Mark?” Could he have fallen asleep that quickly?

  “I’m tired, Jess. Kiss me again, please. I don’t have the energy to pull you down here again.” He let his hands fall from her neck. It wasn’t a command. It was a plea. Jessie didn’t hesitate a moment before complying.

  The taste of his mouth was warm and exciting. Jessie let her tongue glide into the dark cavern, let her lips smooth over his, let her hands move to the steady beat of pulse at the base of his throat.

  “For a minute back there on that ledge I was afraid I’d never get to touch you like this again,” Mark confessed in a muffled, sleepy voice.

  “I was, too. So scared. For both of you.”

  “Stay with me awhile, Jess.”

  “As long as I can.” She shifted her weight to stretch out beside him.

  “Mom! Mom, my corn bread is on fire!” Nell’s treble voice quavered with imminent tears. Jessie sat up reluctantly.

  “So soon? Will it always be like this?”

  Jessie was almost afriad she’d heard him wrong. Always be like this. What lovely words. She was too tired, too excited by everything that had happened to analyze them now. “I’m afraid so. Never a dull moment.” She leaned down to give him a peck on the tip of his nose.

  “Jess.” His voice held her. “Will you come back?”

  She dropped a second tiny caress onto the corner of his mouth. “I won’t be far. All you have to do is call. Sleep now.”

  He did.

  Chapter Five

  “IT’S NICE HAVING A FEW MINUTES to ourselves.” Mark propped his hands behind his head, narrowing his eyes against the watery glaze of sunlight on the sea. Was he tiring of so much exposure to her and the girls? She shot him a quick, surreptitious glance. Or was he teasing her again? The small, satisfied curve of his lips suggested the latter.

  Mark stretched with sinuous masculine grace, arranging himself more comfortably along the ledge of unyielding rock above the camp. He was wearing cutoff fatigues and a light gray cotton shirt open to the waist to prevent the material from irritating the scrapes and abrasions on his chest.

  His eyes followed the soft curve of Jessie’s bottom longingly as she rested her elbows on the ledge to focus her camera in on Nell, who was searching diligently through the tidal pool directly below their perch. H
is last sally didn’t produce the automatic defensive apology it would have done two or three days earlier.

  “You’ve had me all to yourself for the past hour and a half.” Jessie didn’t turn her head, but a bedeviling smile played swiftly across her lips.

  “It’s more like fifteen minutes since Nell’s last trip up here to show you the lastest aquatic marvel she’s discovered.” Mark’s tone was deliberately testy. But it wasn’t totally a conversational gambit. He ached with suppressed longing. Jessie’s breasts pushed jauntily against the cotton of her bright yellow T-shirt, increasing the torment.

  “But, Mark, I’m her mother. It’s terribly important to encourage a child in all her education endeavors.” Jessie’s smile widened impishly. It seemed so natural to be teasing him about her children.

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Mark grimaced. “How do people find time to do anything alone when they have children?”

  Jessie laughed. “I told you it wouldn’t be a cakewalk, but you didn’t have to prove me right by falling off a cliff.” She snapped two more quick shots of Nell examining a bright orange starfish. Nell whirled in glee. Jessie supposed the image would be blurred, but it might make an interesting print just the same. The starfish would be in brilliant contrast to her Kelly-green Windbreaker and a background of somber gray rocks and muted pines.

  “Jessie, come over here,” Mark wheedled in a weak whisper. “I’m having a relapse! Humor me.” He groaned. She ignored him, zooming in on the twins farther along the shore as they carefully replaced a rock after studying the teeming invertebrate life-forms that called it home. They moved lightly, warily, respecting the delicate ecological balance of the tidal pool, exactly as Mark had taught them.

  “You don’t look that much like an invalid anymore, Colonel.” Jessie regarded him skeptically, lifting the embroidered camera strap from around her neck. She covered the telephoto lens before placing the camera on the ground beside her. “I think that little ploy has served its purpose.” She scooted over to where he lay, letting her eyes feast on the sharply etched curves and ridges of his body. He’d shaved that morning preparatory to returning to civilization, but the rakish, soldier-of-fortune air remainded. “You seem to be enjoying your privileged status just a bit too much for your own good. Isn’t there a military term for that? Goldbricking, I think it’s called.” Jessie batted her lashes innocently.