by Carol McPhee
She had to find the chart. The only place she hadn't looked was in this room. If it weren't here, she'd search the yacht again while the Destiny cruised and the men were busy.
"Good Morning."
She jumped.
"Ah ... Good Morning to you, too."
"Did you sleep well?"
Her temples pounded. She gritted her teeth to bear the pain and appear blissful.
"Very well, Rand, thank you. I woke a few minutes ago.” At least this answer was truthful. Lori glanced at the rumpled bedclothes. She wished she'd had the forethought to leap out of bed, grab her clothes, and run to the bathroom before he roused.
She peeked upward. Just as she suspected, he lay peacefully observing their reflections, satisfaction beaming from his eyes. There was no point in averting her eyes back to the porthole. The seagull had abandoned her. Lori managed a broad smile she didn't feel.
"You warmed up quickly last night.” His husky statement of fact provoked an embarrassment she couldn't hide. A self-conscious flush heated her face.
"I know."
The quick, light graze of his mouth on her lips brought instant surprise. Exploding stars launched an attack on her intentions to leave. How could she possibly find the will to resist the performance that flamed so vividly in her memory?
"We need to discuss what happened last night.” Rand's finger slowly stroked her cheek.
She grabbed his hand and kissed it. “We don't need to discuss a thing; we need to absorb how wonderful it was."
When she looked into his eyes, what she saw disturbed her.
Ten
"Look ... about ... last night..."
Rand's eyes held a puzzling glimmer, giving Lori the urge to shake his true thoughts into the light, yet at the same time crush him tight to her breasts. She didn't want his apology for making love; she wanted to bathe in her contentment for a little while. She heard herself say in a well-controlled voice, “I enjoyed what we did, didn't you?"
She hoped her words wouldn't betray her vulnerability and help delay her frustration when he made his exit.
"Of course, but I should tell you..."
"Don't tell me anything right now,” she whispered. She raised her eyes to the ceiling and saw he was staring at her. She blushed, but didn't look away. The duvet covering gave a more respectable viewing, pleasing her that he hadn't seen their provocative positions. Although the room had cooled through the night, they'd obviously found warmth in their snuggling. She couldn't get the sight of what she'd seen out of her mind. Rand's tanned skin contrasted sharply with her pale coloring, giving him a strong sex appeal that had her quickened heartbeats proclaiming her heart's enchantment. They fit well together, almost as if they were two parts of a whole, as if this were the only permanency that mattered. And yet, the picture lied. There would be nothing permanent, and she had to accept it.
The intimacy they'd shared proved she could once again delight in a sexual encounter, but did it depend on the man or on circumstance? She'd thought their union was to satisfy urgent carnal appetites in these wondrous surroundings, but lying beside Rand in this clear morning light, she wondered about the afterglow—why it was so powerful and why it hadn't subsided. She dragged her gaze away from their images, reached up, and pushed back Rand's undisciplined hair, then delicately walked her fingers down his stubbled cheek. The emotion swirling in her heart was more loving than any she'd expect from a convenient romp. It wouldn't last much longer, she was certain, but why hasten its demise?
Rand moved his head back from her pillow and heaved a deep sigh. “There are things we have to talk out, like how you shouldn't..."
She pressed her finger to his lips. “Please, Rand, not now."
She knew he was right. They should discuss her fall from glory. The way she'd manipulated him by deliberately leaping into the water was a low point she couldn't believe. He'd saved her at risk to his own life. There was no way she could forgive herself for that mistake. Damn Sergeant McCormick anyway. If it hadn't been for him, I'd have gone back to the city. Still though, look what I'd have missed.
She lowered her eyes from his and concentrated on rotating her fingertips in his chest's soft furry mat. The slight odor of musk rising from the bedclothes reminded her of the excitement he'd aroused every time he had caressed her. His slow, sexy smile had promised a trip to heaven and he'd carried her there ... and farther. Into a world of fantasy. A place she had never wanted to leave. She sighed with the remembrance of his touch and the palpitations that pounded her heart from that touch.
"I want to know ... Was it as good for you as it was for me?” Rand lifted her chin and brought her eyes into direct contact with the twinkle in his.
His merriment encouraged her to be truthful. “Definitely, in spite of being in such sorry shape."
Her heart thumped once again against her ribcage—so hard she was certain he could hear it. The honesty of her admitted pleasure increased her fulfillment. She wished there could be more truth between them. He gathered her to his chest and the heat from the enclosure melted away the distraction of her thoughts.
* * * *
Rand shaded his eyes against the invading brightness. Morning had come too fast for his liking. The stagnant air that had stifled the room in the night had interfered with his sleep and forced him to crack open a porthole. When he'd returned to bed, the moon's splash of silvery light on Lori's sleeping form, wrapped in the lustrous sheet, made her look like a goddess who'd come to earth for his pleasure. He'd been so overwhelmed that he'd stood beside her and simply watched the rise and fall of her breathing—not daring to reach out for fear she'd wake up and he'd lose his fantasy.
A whiff of refreshing ocean breeze dragged him to full wakefulness, when he'd rather just languish next to her enjoying the mingling of erotic scents. He pondered the miracle of finding someone he wanted to stay near. Why did it have to be her? I've never shared this bed with a woman. Hell, I've never even slept in it. He gulped at the lump in his throat. Attracted to her since he'd first admired her spunk, he'd had no idea the attraction was more than superficial—not until he'd seen the plunge that could have taken her life. Even now, his deduction mocked his image of self-control. What was I thinking? Why couldn't I have been content with just saving her from the water and from herself?
If he had fallen in love, as he suspected, he would be more vulnerable than he'd ever been. As much as he wished he were wrong, he could identify the sensation left in the wake of their lovemaking—a feeling of reaching home where worries of the outside world no longer existed. Instead of being thrilled, thinking about it now confused him as nothing else could. To wake beside this nymph that he'd pulled from the river revealed how it could be between them, but he knew of the obstacles. His unwillingness to reconcile marriage with his dangerous work, and her hatred of the Force he loved, seemed to be insurmountable barriers.
The beguiling scent of the sea still clung to Lori's tangled curls, reinforcing the bewitching lure of her passion. No doubt about it, he was under her spell and she didn't even know it. How was he to deal with it?
"So,” he murmured into her ear, “did you sleep well?"
"Yes. No nightmare.” Her smile made his heart sing.
He couldn't resist sampling her mouth again. A kiss that began as a mere brushing of lips, led to one so consuming he never wanted it to end. But he wanted it to be an honest kiss, received with full understanding of who and what he was. He tried again to discuss the problem. “Last night..."
As his fingers traced tiny circles on her shoulder, a frightening thought tumbled into his head. Was the eagerness she had shown in his arms her way of trading sex for information? They'd both been playing games and he'd been sucker-punched by glitches he'd never had to battle previously. This could be one more. His fingers stopped their motion.
"What's wrong, Rand? Last night was perfect."
"Yeah, but..."
She sighed, leaned back, and this time waited for him to finish. Her
eyes that had sparkled in the throes of their union dulled with disappointment. He wondered, what if he were mistaken and she hadn't had an ulterior motive for sleeping with him. How could he tell? Dammit all. He didn't want to take the risk—not until they experienced the magic again. Surely he could shove his reservations to the back of his mind. He used to be able to control his thoughts—until he met her.
Rand rose on his elbow and looked down at Lori. As she licked the dryness from her lips, the musky gloss served as an aphrodisiac, bringing him to quick arousal. And that was the way of it; she didn't have to say or do anything. One look at her and desire leaped to the forefront of his mind. Worst of all was the strength of the protective instinct she whipped up in him. He didn't want her to ever suffer again.
He knew the source of her power. If her fragile, injured body and sharp mind weren't enough to beckon him, the brave spirit that lingered deep inside her would do the trick. The affectionate placement of her hand on his chest set his heart to a faster beat. He planted a series of kisses across her shoulder, infusing himself with the womanly fragrance of her body. Her rhythmic, gentle breathing registered tiny puffs of air against his neck. His lips roamed with ease across her breasts and abdomen, knowing their exact goal. He slowed his advance, anxious that she reach the same heights as he—at the same time.
Her body flexed beneath him; her soft moans thrilled him with the knowledge she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She pulled him closer, apparently opposed to drawing out their lovemaking. It was obvious she wanted to unlock paradise and knew he held the key. He slid his body over hers and looked down one last time before he took her.
Her closed eyes hid her thoughts, but the motion of her body begged that he enter. He did—and once again explored the reaches of her moist inner sanctum. Their tongues danced, their hands explored, enhancing the pleasure of their fusion. His mind stayed fixed on their connection and the energy building sent them both soaring to a level where everything else was unimportant. She met his urgency with stamina and desire. Their bodies reveled in the true glory of making love. The climax was strong and all that he desired. She was everything he desired.
Afterward, as he lay beside her, his mind wandered. She had planted a yearning in him for a future together—a future only possible if they were honest with one another. He hesitated, undecided, caught between wanting to bask with her in a make-believe world and the need to have answers to his questions.
Rand's head ached as he struggled with his thoughts. Finally, he withdrew his hand from under her neck and pushed himself to the far side of the mattress. Maybe a change of scene would help. “You must be hungry. How about I make breakfast?"
Lori's eyes narrowed; her lower lip pushed into a pout—she clearly didn't want to return to the real world. What exactly did that world hold for her? Betrayal until he enlightened her? It was a sobering thought.
Her eyes brightened and she smiled. “I guess I can't turn down an offer for a meal that I don't have to make.” She pulled the sheet around her, sat up, and dangled her feet over the edge.
"You wouldn't turn down many offers, would you, Lori?” The words slid out; even he heard the innuendo.
Lori whipped around, eyebrows arched. The room became so quiet that the rush of blood to his temples sounded like tin cans doing a jig in his ears. She remained still for a few seconds, then spoke—hesitantly. “I admit ... I've taken you up on every offer you've made ... You're having second thoughts?” He saw her lip quiver, but she seemed to get a grip on her wounded pride and the motion stopped. “I know ... I'm not the type you're used to having here..."
There was nothing wrong with her type. He couldn't have survived anyone hotter. She concentrated on straightening some of the duvet's folds within her reach. The purple sheen displayed a backdrop reminiscent of bedding in a jewelry box containing a precious gem. This gem wasn't about to let his snide remark make her look cheap. Rand could see she wasn't going to give in to the hurt of his stupid blunder. A burst of pride soared through his chest. The damage done, now was as good a time as any to find out if she'd used intimacy for her own interests.
"You're right. You aren't the kind I've had in here before, Lori. What are you looking for?"
Would she blow her cover now? If she told him of the sergeant's request, it would mean she thought enough of him not to care what he was and maybe she wouldn't care that he was RCMP. Then he'd tell her the truth, gently, confident she'd see his masquerade as Sergeant McCormick was for her own good.
"You know damned well what I'm looking for. I can see I was wrong—” A thud at the bottom of the steps cut her off. “What's that?"
"George, throwing his duffel bag down the steps.” Rand cursed to himself. George couldn't have picked a worse time to show up. “We're going out for a trial run to test the engine, remember?"
"I'll dress right away and leave. I hope my dress dried."
"Leave? You're going out with us."
"I've changed my mind. I don't need to stay where I don't fit in."
"Who put that idea in your head?"
"You just did."
Rand yanked fresh clothes from the top dresser drawer. “Don't be ridiculous. I'll get breakfast while you shower. Come out when you're ready."
She didn't reply, but he imagined her staring into his back as he put on his clothes. There was no reasoning with a woman's logic as far as he could see. He left with the impression that matters between them could get a lot rougher before the air cleared.
* * * *
Lori's tower of exquisite memories toppled with the exchange of harsh words. If Rand didn't know by now that her search for something exciting to hold on to had made her succumb to his advances, that was fine by her. She glared at the slammed door, then turned and put her feet to the floor. If a heavy object had been handy, she'd have thrown it, even though this compartment was made for celebrating passion, not anger. She'd suffered through third degree questioning for weeks last year, and now Rand's probing question left her with the same feeling that no one ever understood her. She was fed up and determined to leave. To hell with Sergeant McCormick.
To get her mind off her distressing thoughts, Lori glanced around for a spot that could hold the map. With limited furniture, there weren't many places to conceal a long scroll of paper. The drawer of the bedside table was too small, but she couldn't resist the urge to peek inside. As she pulled on the gold lacquered latch, she worried that maybe she'd find an embarrassing array of condoms. No attention had been paid to such usage last night. Her cheeks burned.
She remembered thinking she wanted to be completely joined with him, not separated by latex. How stupid was that? There was no excuse for her neglect, except that she must have been more loaded than she thought. And that recollection brought up why she had felt such strong effects from her drink. She remembered taking a pill for her pain. It had been so long since she'd had liquor, she'd forgotten about the warning that came with her prescription to avoid taking with alcohol. She'd had wine with dinner, no thanks to Malcolm, then topped it off with sherry. Can anything else go wrong? She didn't want to think of the answer.
The drawer's empty space brought up another round of questions. Had Rand used up a large supply with previous companions? Had he ... She shook her head—better not go there. It's none of my business what he does with others. She coughed out a quick sarcastic laugh. Now on to better things. The most obvious hiding place is the dresser.
Lori pulled off the sheet, fastened it toga-style, and quickly opened the dresser drawers. All but the top drawer was empty. That one displayed a small pile of underwear and tee shirts. Rushing to the closet, she flung the door wide, convinced she'd found her source. Her enthusiasm turned to surprise. The surprise turned to confusion. Empty. Where was the wardrobe of a wealthy man who, by all indications, lived lavishly? And where was the chart? Nothing added up.
While she regulated the shower's water temperature, Lori contemplated the dilemma. As the hot spray sluiced her bod
y, she dwelled on Rand's expressive eyes. Their glistening intensity gave no clues to who he was, but they sure had made an impact on her life. I've searched the whole boat and not found the chart. Maybe I've missed other things, too. He could be more than one of Malcolm's flunkies. Could he be the ringleader?
His defiant stance against the drug lord at dinner should have clearly signified Rand's importance. She might have underestimated him. Still though, other quick judgments, like accepting an engagement ring from a man who didn't believe in her, had led her astray. She shook her head. The bells in her head were pealing loud enough now for even her to take heed. Their toll chimed the death knell of her venture—she was way out of her league. This time she'd follow her instinct and hightail it off the Destiny and away from the resort.
She soaped and scrubbed and tried to remove all residue of their lovemaking. He'd swept away her chance for renewal and demolished her fantasies. If only the pummeling water could dissolve the memory of his touch.
When she turned off the water and stepped out, she noticed the smooth rumble of the yacht's engine vibrating the floor. George must be testing the motor while Rand fixes the meal. She dressed, finger-combing her curls into a tidier flow. An unexpected jolt threw her back against the bed—the boat was moving.
Her peek out the porthole showed the yacht maneuvering sideways from its mooring. She'd watched large cruise ships do this in Halifax, but didn't know any yacht had that ability. Her heart skipped as the Destiny reversed and started backing down the channel. Shocked, then furious because of her delayed reaction, she rushed to the galley. On the counter in plain sight she saw a carton labeled Paper Cup Refills—the perfect container to hide the chart. Her pulse rate jumped as she looked inside. The box was as empty as the galley's air of breakfast smells.
Lori stumbled up the steps and onto the deck. The yacht had reached a wider section of the river—not visible from the lodge. The Destiny was slowly swinging about. George blocked her way as soon as she stormed into the wheelhouse.
