by Candace Camp
“I’ll call and tell them to ship your luggage. And the plans are right here.” He pointed to the dresser, where a thick brown folder lay. “Apparently with all the corporate spies they use, they are understandably paranoid about sending this kind of information electronically.”
“Small blessings, I guess. Where is Blake?”
“Blake won’t be coming with us.”
Leslie gave him a puzzled look, which quickly turned into a frown. “What happened? Did they put him in jail?”
“Hold on. Before you start getting worried about that parasite, let me assure you that he’s not languishing in a San Cristóbalian prison. I let him go. I told the police he rescued us and that LeFevre and his men were the ones responsible. Then I took Blake back to LeFevre’s place and persuaded him to give me the plans.”
“Persuaded?”
“I bargained with him.” Cutter shrugged. “Your father wouldn’t prosecute if he got the plans back, and I wouldn’t tell the police that Blake helped LeFevre kidnap us yesterday. I also agreed not to tell Mora where he is. I somewhat exaggerated Mora’s indignation at being blamed for a kidnapping he didn’t commit.”
Leslie had to bite back a smile. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“My kindness is in real low supply for Blake Westfield.”
“Why did you let Blake go?”
“I couldn’t very well have a relative of my wife’s—even an ex-husband—being arrested and tried, now, could I?”
Leslie’s jaw dropped. “What? Your wife?” Cutter nodded and looked suddenly, uncharacteristically nervous. “Yeah. If you’ll marry me.”
“You want to marry me?” Leslie repeated, dazed.
“Of course. I thought you understood. I love you. More than anything or anyone I’ve ever known. I want us to be together for the rest of our lives.”
Leslie was stunned. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined Cutter asking her to marry him. “But we’re so different. How could we ever get along?”
“We’d probably fight a lot. We’d also have a hell of a lot of fun.”
“But you’d be gone most of the time. Flying down here, risking your life. And what am I supposed to do—just sit at home and worry about you?”
“No matter what you seem to think, I am not Indiana Jones. I don’t spend my life flying around looking for trouble, beating up villains and rescuing ladies in distress. I had enough of adventure and fighting to last me a lifetime when I was in San Cristóbal before. I don’t want any more. Except for the supplies I fly in for Sister Mary Margaret, I’ve done nothing the past few months but try to get that wreck of a flying service in shape. Now that I have the money to fix it up I can actually think about selling it to John Mecklin—he’s wanted to buy the business and take over my route to Mary’s mission for as long as I’ve known him, but I always felt like I’d be ripping the poor kid off with it in disrepair.”
“Johnny? The guy I met? With the manbun?”
“Yeah. He’s got the rebellious spirit I had years ago but he’s more organized and committed than I ever was back then. In all likelihood he’ll be better at the job. And I can finally retire without any guilt. Maybe we can travel—you’ve more than proved you’re up for adventure.”
“What about a home? Stability?” Leslie hated to even bring it up—everything Cutter was saying sounded wonderful and she didn’t want to imagine traveling the world not working out, but the practical side of her couldn’t quite let go either.
“You are my stability. And any place with you in it will feel like home.” Cutter answered. “But if you need something more concrete, just pick a place and I will go there with you. Where were you planning on opening your next hotel?”
“I’ve actually been wanting to try one outside the U.S.—I want a new challenge.”
“Where were you thinking?”
“I was looking at several places, but an up-and-coming area I really like is Akureyri, Iceland. I think it’s poised to be the next Reykajvík.”
“Iceland is known for helicopter and small airplane tours.” Cutter grinned.
“I hadn’t even thought of that—but you’re right.” Joy bubbled up inside Leslie’s chest. Maybe this really could work.
“Besides—I’ve always wanted to hike a glacier.” Cutter wrapped his arms around her waist. “Iceland would make a perfect home for however long you want to stay there. All I want is to be with you.”
“What about the smoking? I know you’re never supposed to try and change someone, but I can’t stand it.”
“Done.” Cutter pulled the pack and Altoids tin out of his shirt pocket and threw them into a nearby trashcan.
“Really? That easily?” Leslie squinted at him.
“My addiction to you eclipses all others.” Cutter nuzzled her neck and breathed in deeply. “Mmmm… now that’s the good stuff.” He grinned against her skin, tickling Leslie with his stubble.
“So stupid.” Leslie rolled her eyes but she couldn’t suppress the huge smile that seemed to radiate through her entire body. “And I know how cranky you were when you first ran out of cigarettes in the jungle, so I don’t think it’s entirely accurate either.”
“Leslie,” Cutter leaned back and looked into her eyes, his face suddenly serious. “I would give up oxygen to be with you.”
“I kinda like you alive and breathing, though, so I think I’ll let you keep that.” Leslie knew what her answer was—what it would have been even if he’d refused her request. She knew what her answer would have been if he said he’d smoke two packs a day until he dropped dead. She’d known the answer before he’d even asked the question.
Leslie suddenly felt weak—she was glad Cutter’s arms were around her, holding her up. Marrying him would be all the things she had always fought against in herself. Impulsive. Emotional. Wild. And there was nothing else in the world she wanted more. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
Relief washed over Cutter’s face and he crushed her against his chest. He kissed her, teasing her mouth open. Leslie made a helpless little noise, and her fingers slid into his hair. He bent and swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.
Their lovemaking was so sweet and intense it almost made Leslie cry. Cutter concentrated on her body as if nothing else in the world existed. He removed his clothes and hers, his eyes never leaving her. His fingers explored every inch of her skin, thorough and agonizingly slow. His teeth nipped at her flesh, his tongue soothed. He played with her, teasing until Leslie thought she would explode, always retreating at the last moment and moving on to discover some new aspect of her passion. Leslie twisted beneath him, her fingers clutching at his arms and back, her breathy murmurs urging him on to completion. He responded with all the gravity of a monk and all the skill of an artist.
At last he came into her, and the satisfaction pierced her. Leslie shuddered uncontrollably, peaking at his merest touch. But his body was still hard and powerful within her. When she went limp with pleasure, he began his deep, slow strokes. It brought a sensation so wild it was almost painful. Leslie moaned as he took her to the heights again. This time, the dam of his control broke and he climaxed with her, his body taut and slick with sweat as she came undone.
Later, as they lay together in lazy contentment. Leslie slid her hand lightly up and down his arm, loving the feel of his smooth skin and trying to absorb all the beauty and happiness that had suddenly been tossed into her world.
“Cutter…” she said after a time, her voice light and teasing.
“Hmm?”
“Men often reveal things about themselves to the woman they love.”
“Yeah?”
“Like their first name, for instance,” Leslie prodded.
“Unh-uh.”
“Come on. What’s your name?”
He shook his head, smiling.
Leslie glared. “You are really exasperating. I’ll find out, anyway. It’ll be on our marriage license.”
“Maybe.”
“Cutter! Tell me your first name right this minute, or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?” His eyes danced with amusement.
“Or I’ll refuse to marry you, that’s what. I’m not marrying a man whose name I don’t know!”
Cutter sighed dramatically. “All right. Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I promise.”
“Angus.”
“Angus? That’s your name?” Leslie had to fight to keep her lips from twitching up into a grin. “You mean, like the—”
“Yes, like the cow.”
Leslie bit down on her lower lip and struggled to choke back her laughter. “What about a middle name? Don’t you have one of those?”
“Rivington. It’s my mother’s maiden name.”
“Angus Rivington Cutter.” Leslie tried out the name.
Cutter groaned. “Please. Don’t tell me you’re going to start calling me that.”
Leslie giggled. “I ought to, just to tease you. But I can’t!” She burst into laughter.
“You promised,” he growled.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Leslie swallowed the laughter, thought she couldn’t keep the grin from her face. “With all due respect to your parents, I think I’ll still call you Cutter.” She paused, and suddenly her face sobered. She gazed deeply into his eyes. “I love you, Cutter.”
He leaned in and kissed her thoroughly. “And I love you, lady.”
Candace Camp is the NY Times best-selling author of over 70 novels, including the popular Mad Moreland series, The Rainbow Season, and A Momentary Marriage. Her books have been published in twenty-three countries and 17 languages. She wrote her first novel while in law school and happily gave up her work as an attorney to pursue her lifelong dream of writing books. Born in Amarillo, Texas, she now lives in Austin, Texas with her husband, Pete Hopcus. Her daughter is young adult author Anastasia Hopcus.
For a complete list of her books, go to candace-camp.com. You can also visit her at facebook.com/candacecampauthor/ @campcandace on Twitter @candacecampauthor on Instagram
Other titles by Candace Camp
Satan’s Angel
Before the Dawn
A Perfect Gentleman
A Momentary Marriage
The Rainbow Season
The Rainbow Promise
Mad Morelands series
Mesmerized
Beyond Compare
Winterset
An Unexpected Pleasure
His Sinful Touch
His Wicked Charm
Her Scandalous Pursuit
Lost Heirs Series
A Stolen Heart
Promise Me Tomorrow
No Other Love
Matchmaker Series
The Marriage Wager
The Bridal Quest
The Wedding Challenge
The Courtship Dance
St. Dwynwen Series
A Winter Scandal
A Summer Seduction
The Marrying Season
Secrets of the Loch Series
Treasured
Pleasured
Enraptured
