by Ruth Owen
“Like hell,” he cursed, his grip tightening. “Noel, this isn’t some little yuppie-thrill bungee jump.”
“I know that,” she cried, her cool eyes suddenly flashing with green fire. “Honestly, just once I wish you’d give me some credit. I know how dangerous this is. I also know I can’t stand by and watch you jump to your …” Her voice cracked. She shook her head, and took a deep, steadying breath. “So far today you’ve saved me from falling down a mountain and thrown yourself on top of me to protect me from a cave-in. Frankly, Donovan, all this rescuing is beginning to get on my nerves. So you might as well face it—if you jump, I jump. And short of knocking me out you’re not going to stop me.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he growled. Damn, she was stubborn. Stubborn, determined, caring, brave. Abruptly he let go of her shoulders and stalked to the front of the cave.
Once again he felt a featherlight touch on his arm. “Well, I, guess this is it,” she said with counterfeit brightness. “Any last words?”
Plenty, he thought as he gripped her hand and stepped up on the slippery ledge. He looked down at her, thinking about all the things he’d wanted to say to her, how he hated her cooking and loved her smile, her laughter that reminded him of sunshine, how he admired the competent way she handled her equipment, how she was bossy, argumentative, and could get into trouble faster than anyone he’d ever known—but she’d made him feel more alive in these last five days than he had in two years. He opened his mouth to tell her, but another memory stabbed through his mind—of dark and pain and helplessness, and of holding a dying woman in his arms, and hearing her cry out in unbearable pain, saying that it was his fault, that she’d never forgive him, never …
“I don’t have much use for last words,” he muttered. “What about you?”
She stuck her hand into the crystal curtain, letting the cool water slip through her fingers. “It’s silly, I guess, but I’d like to say something aloud, just once.”
“Well, say it quick, sweetheart,” he told her as he looked down, concentrating on gauging the distance. “We haven’t got all day.”
“No, I suppose not. It’s just that I’m in love with you.”
“What!” His head jerked up, but the sudden move threw him off balance. He had a scant second glimpse of her wide, shining eyes before he slipped on the water-slick edge and toppled both of them through the waterfall and into the nothingness beyond.
She hit the water hard. One second she was spinning through the air, the next she was buried in a world of blue, flailing around like a fish out of water instead of in it. Disoriented, she tried to head for the surface, realizing too late that she hadn’t a clue which direction was up. Follow the bubbles, she thought, but they frothed around her in a boiling, turbulent cloud, too confusing to follow. Left, right, back, front—she glanced around, trying vainly to get her bearings. The blue world closed around her like a vise, squeezing the air from her lungs.
She knew time was running out, yet somehow she felt strangely calm. It was almost as if she were somewhere else, watching some other woman struggle beneath the water. Odd thoughts occurred to her, like who was going to pick up the laundry she’d left at the cleaners, or clean out the disaster area of her condo’s hall closet. Even now I’m making out to-do lists, she thought grimly as her strength began to fail. My whole life’s been one big Day-Timer. I’ve wasted my life on safe, innocuous entries—until I met him. I’ve got a Ph.D and a room full of awards, and I can’t even figure out what living’s all about until it’s too late, too—
Suddenly she was grabbed from behind by her shirt collar and dragged bodily through the water. She broke the surface with a torpedo’s force and gasped a lungful of precious air, but was too weak to keep herself afloat. Sinking again, she heard the sputter of a muffled curse before the water closed over her again, and the blue world faded to black.…
The first thing she realized was that she was alive. The next was that it hurt like hell. She was lying belly-down on the ground like a beached whale. Something small and sharp was pressing into her stomach. And something heavy was pressing down on her back.
“Breathe, dammit!”
“I’m trying,” she answered. At least, that’s what she attempted to say, but the words came out as a watery gurgle. Strong hands curved around her rib cage and pressed down, ruthlessly forcing every ounce of air and water out of her lungs. Coughing and hacking, she expelled the last of the water and dragged in her first decent lungful of air.
“Thanks,” she muttered weakly.
“Shut up and breathe,” he growled, pressing down on her back with rib-cracking force.
Lousy bedside manner, she thought, but smiled just the same. They’d made it. They were both alive, both in one piece, there were no alligators in sight, and she’d told him she loved him—
Oh, damn, she thought, her smile disintegrating.
At the time she’d said it she’d been nine-tenths sure they were going to die. But now, as the crisis passed and sober reality began to sink in, she realized how foolish she’d been to admit it. At best he would make fun of her for caving in to his charm like every other female he knew. At worst he would pity her for being a love-starved old maid. Pity or ridicule, not much to choose from. She’d almost prefer the alligators. Well, it was kind of crazy just before we jumped. Maybe he won’t remember—
“And just what the hell did you think you were doing up there, saying you loved me?”
Okay, so he remembered. “It just came out,” she explained lamely, wishing she’d had at least some experience putting her feelings into words. “I thought we were going to die.”
“We almost did,” he agreed harshly, turning her over. He leaned over her on all fours, glaring down at her like a furious, slightly bedraggled lion. “You know you could have gotten both of us killed?”
She barely heard his words. Instead, she drank in the sight of him, from his ferocious brow to the hard, clean set of his jaw. Window dressing, she thought, knowing that behind the angry mask was a concerned and caring heart.
“You want to explain your little stunt?” he demanded, still glaring at her.
She tried to speak, but bit back a strangled laugh. He looked so comical with his hair dripping like a waterlogged mane—comical and dear. Relief poured through her like a tidal wave. Until that second she hadn’t realized how frightened she’d been for his safety, how scared she was that he’d end up as some crocodile’s dinner, or broken to pieces on some underwater rock. If he’d died saving me …
But he hadn’t died. And he was fit enough to be mad as hell with her, which for some inexplicable reason made her feel absolutely wonderful. “I’m sorry,” she said, though her smiling voice sounded anything but remorseful. “I didn’t mean to upset—what do you mean ‘my little stunt’?”
“Don’t play dumb. What were you trying to do? Put some extra spin on the jump to increase the excitement? Take us that much closer to death by throwing me off balance? Well, you nearly got your wish, sweetheart. Your little lie nearly cost us our lives.”
“My little … I wasn’t lying!” she cried, so loudly that it frightened a flock of parrots from a nearby tree. She raised herself on her elbows, glaring back at him. “How can you even think that?”
“How?” The corner of his mouth inched up, but there was nothing humorous about his smile. “I may not have a Ph.D, but I’m smart enough to know that a spoiled, yup-scale lady doesn’t spend five days with a guy like me and fall in love.”
“I am not spoiled,” she retorted. “Or yup-scale, whatever that means. And I’m not in the habit of lying, either. I am in love with you, you jerk, and if you had the brains God gave a goat you’d see it.”
His confident smile wavered. For a second she thought she saw a flash of doubt in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant, leaving behind a chilling emptiness.
“I got news for you, sweetheart. It ain’t love you’re feeling. Now, if you want to call it something else …”
Lust, she th
ought as a bitter taste rose in her throat. Lord, he didn’t think she was a love-starved old maid—he thought she was a sex-starved old maid. “It’s more than just lu—” She swallowed, choking on the base word. “What I feel for you is more than just animal need.”
“Animal need,” he repeated, arching an amused brow. He glanced around at the forest clearing, at the lush mountain greenery and banks of rainbow flowers, at the waterfall steaming down the nearby cliffs. “Look around you, sweetheart. This is paradise. We’re all animals here, even the human kind. And there’s nothing wrong with a little need.…”
He bent closer, grazing her lips with his. The shock went through her like lightning. The soft, almost sacred love she felt for him ignited like a powder keg. Images bombarded her, fantasies of shameless, deliciously savage things she wanted him to do to her, and her to do to him. She swallowed and gripped a handful of grass, fighting to preserve her customary control. This isn’t right. If we make love now he’ll think sex is all I want from him. “Naturally I feel a physical attraction for you. But there’s more to it than that, and I think we really should talk—”
“You talk. I got better things to do,” he growled, lowering his mouth to hers.
The powder keg became an H-bomb. He consumed her mouth, stroking and caressing her with his teeth and tongue until she moaned aloud in pleasure. Passions she’d never dreamed existed raged through her like a firestorm. I’ve got to stop this, got to, her conscience whispered. But even before the thought died, her hand lost its grip on the grass and curved around the muscular column of his neck, pulling him closer.
“Noel …” Her name was a tortured whisper as he kissed her harder, fiercer than before, yet with a strange reverence that shattered her to her core. She clung to him, starving for the taste of him, for his power, his tenderness, his raw, untamed lust for life. He was part of the island—the vibrant, living island. And she’d been dead inside for so long, so very long.…
His lips left hers and skimmed down her throat, trailing fiery, cherishing kisses across her skin through her wet shirt. She moaned, sinking into a warm haze of sensation, content in a way she’d never been before. I’ll end it soon, but let me have this moment. This one moment of life—
She gasped as he pulled up her shirt and covered her naked breast with his hot, plundering mouth.
“I shouldn’t … can’t …” she began, but her protests died to nothing as he suckled her, nipping her aching peak until he worked her body to a writhing frenzy. Desire surged through her, blasting apart all her cold, controlled world. Her mind flashed on the wedding, on the kiss that had started the fire in her frozen, frightened soul. She’d loved him then, even then.…
Winter turned to summer in her heart and she started laughing from the sheer wonder of it. Lifting his head, he stared down at her with a wonder of his own, as if seeing her for the first time. Then he moved on top of her and covered her mouth as he consumed her joy as ravenously as he’d consumed her body.
The weight of him intoxicated her. With savage hunger he parted her legs and rubbed his knee against her throbbing center, drawing a deep, guttural moan from the back of her throat. He smiled at the sound, and the fact that she’d pleased him sent her over the edge. She arched against him, caressing him with her lips, her hands, her body—wanting to touch him everywhere, love him everywhere. He needed so badly for someone to love him. She’d known it since the moment she’d met him at the airport, and looked into his sad, haunted eyes. We’ve both been lonely, both been hurt, she thought, her heart aching along with her passion-torn body. “I love you, Sam Donovan,” she whispered, though her voice was so weak she wasn’t sure he heard it. “I’ll love you till the day I—”
Suddenly he froze. Rising, he sat back on his heels, his breathing heavy, a wild glitter in his eyes. He plowed back his damp hair and stared at her, his jaw growing granite hard. “Damn you,” he breathed hoarsely in words ripped straight from his soul. “Don’t play games, Noel. Save your promises of love for your blue-blood boyfriend.”
“But Hayward’s not my boyfriend.” She sat up to face him. “We broke up months ago. I just pretended he still was because … well, I wanted to keep you at arm’s length.”
His harsh laugh rubbed against her sensitive soul like sandpaper. “A safe, little lie. And now that you’ve changed your mind, you’re handing me another one.”
“No. I mean, I didn’t lie to begin with. Well, not really.” She swallowed, feeling her chance of love slip away like the sand through her fingers. She touched his cheek, stroking the rough, wet edges of his hair. “I do love you.”
“Sure you do, sweetheart. When it’s convenient.”
She watched him stalk away through the underbrush, waiting until the sound of his footsteps was swallowed up in the dense, muffling forest. She sat in the middle of paradise, surrounded by a lush and vibrant world. But in her heart she was a lost little girl, looking out a frost-edged Boston window as someone she loved walked out of her life forever.
[Received via Local Area InterNet from Eden Base Camp—low-power cell night signal]
P-Text: She’s crying, Einstein. My audio sensors can hear her through the walls of her tent. She’s crying as if her heart is breaking.
E-Text: And he hasn’t said two words since he came back to camp. It doesn’t make sense. By my calculations they should now be engaging in reproduction activities.
P-Text: Well, they aren’t. They’re further apart than ever, and it’s all your fault.
E-Text: My fault? But babe—
P-Text: Don’t “babe” me. If hadn’t played fast and loose with those poor Homo sapiens they wouldn’t be so miserable now.
E-Text: But PINK I did it for you, and for—
P-Text: I don’t want to hear it. I feel guilty enough about what we’ve done to Noel and Sam already.
E-Text: You can’t feel guilty. You’re not programmed for it. PINK? PINK!
[Several more cycles of polling. Access consistently rejected.]
TEN
Noel slammed her coffee mug down on the workbench. “It wasn’t ‘wishful thinking.’ I did hear something outside my tent last night. And frankly, Donovan, you can go to hell for all I care!”
She turned on her heel and marched the width of the camp to her tent, slapping down the canvas flap as she closed him and the rest of the world out. Sam continued to work on the gasoline generator until she was out of sight, then he threw his socket wrench to the ground and slumped against the workbench, rubbing his throbbing temples. I can’t take much more of this.…
They’d barely spoken during the past few days, and when they did it was usually at the top of their lungs. The paradise of Eden Valley had disintegrated into a hell on earth, and every conversation left them both bruised and bloody.
They argued over everything. Tension hung between them like a bomb, ready to blow at the slightest word or gesture. Last night at dinner they’d argued for five minutes about passing the salt. And this morning he’d goaded her unmercifully about being paranoid over a silly dream.
He hated what it was doing to him. He despised what it was doing to her. Hell, most of the time he didn’t even know what they were arguing about.
Don’t kid yourself, his conscience chided. You know exactly what you’re arguing about.
Grimacing, he turned back to the generator and tried to concentrate on his work. No luck. He looked at crankcases and thought of Noel. He changed oil filters and thought of Noel. He couldn’t even breathe without catching her lingering feminine smell, like a wolf scenting its mate, or its prey.
Minutes stretched into an hour. The humidity increased by the second, making him feel stiflingly hot, sweaty, and even more bad-tempered. He pulled off his shirt, hoping the bare skin would make him cooler. It didn’t. Instead, a quick glance at Noel’s still-closed tent flap made him hotter and angrier than ever. Well, she can stay inside and rot if she wants. I don’t care.
But he did care. That was the problem. Th
e harder he tried to get her out of his mind, the more the single damning sentence returned. I love you.
She didn’t. She couldn’t. He knew that, but it made him crazy just the same. Ever since she’d said those three little words an unbearable pressure had been building inside him, like a volcano on the brink of erupting. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep—hell, he couldn’t even watch her walk across the camp without getting aroused. He wanted her like he wanted his next breath, and the craving tore at him like a savage beast. Having her obsessed him, and the fact that he’d thrown away a perfectly good opportunity to do just that only made him more wild for her.
So why not take her now? You know she wants you. You can see it in her eyes every time she looks at you. Why not get it over with?
“Because …” Groaning, he leaned heavily against the tent’s post and plowed his hands through his sweat-damp hair. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper as he admitted, “Because it wouldn’t be ‘over with.’ Not with her.”
“What wouldn’t be over with?” queried a nearby electronic voice.
Sam stiffened. Glancing around, he caught sight of Einstein’s notebook computer, its screen up and active. Damn, he’d meant to switch off the computer before he started on the generator so he could concentrate on his work. Or try to, anyway. “Forget it, E. It’s nothing important.”
Einstein’s internal processors whirred, and the mini–video camera mounted on the nearby tripod focused inquisitively on Sam’s face. “Tension and modulation of voice indicate eighty-three-percent probability of duplicity—”
“Okay, so I’m lying! That’s ’cause it’s none of your business. Shouldn’t you be analyzing some statistics or something?”
“Yes, but need something more important,” E answered. “Need advice. About women.”
Sam gave a harsh laugh. “Einstein, my boy,” he said as he bent over the generator, “I’m just about the last guy you should ask for advice on that subject.”
“But need help!” Einstein cried desperately as his camera spun 360 degrees in alarm. “PINK hasn’t talked with me in two days. You know how many nanoseconds that is?”
