Maverick

by C. J. Snyder

  Chuck not only provided ample supplies, he’d packed well. Jack found a thick jacket on top and pulled it on. A slicker and rain hat followed, a heavy duty flashlight and a camp lantern. Jack stuck the flashlight in his belt and set the lantern aside. A pup tent, a warm sleeping bag, a camp stove and utensils, plenty of non-perishable food, bottles of water. . .

  Jack shook his head, reaching the bottom of the bag. Two silver flasks. He uncorked one and sniffed, then grinned into the night. “Chuck, you just earned yourself a big, fat commendation, my friend.” He slung the sleeping bag over his shoulder by its carrying strap, stashed a flask in his coat pocket and filled a small backpack with some of the other supplies.

  He pulled the flashlight from his belt and switched it on. Up here the rain hadn’t fallen either hard or steadily. Yet. He figured he had fifteen minutes to find her before the rain obliterated her tracks. If she’d left any tracks. He strode back down the road to her abandoned car, shining the light on the soft ground.

  She’d left tracks. Faint, but there, heading west. The chill wind whipped him, knocking the sleeping bag down his arm. He scowled. The storm was coming in from the west—he’d be tracking her right into it. He revised his fifteen-minute estimate to ten tops.

  *** Half-asleep but thoroughly drenched, Maggie crawled out of her sodden sleeping bag. A river of mud had crept through the corner of her rock walls, slowly soaking her, making it apparent the two rocks had originally been one. The small stream only followed the path it had used for hundreds of years.

  Her wonderful fire had sputtered and given up without much of a fight. And she was too tired to care. She glanced up at the now-clear sky and smiled wearily. At least the deluge was over. She wriggled out of the muddy river, leaned back against the rock, tried to burrow her shoulder into it and went back to sleep.

  *** He’d walked past her twice. If she hadn’t called out in her sleep he would have missed her again. She was drenched, and shivering, but her eyes were closed. Worried she might be hurt, he dropped to his knees next to her.

  “Maggie?” Her eyes opened and he could see her smile in the moonlight. “Oh, good. Make me warm. . . You’re very good at that.” She laid her wet head on his shoulder and closed her eyes again.

  “Maggie?” He pulled off his gloves and felt her forehead. No fever. Just the opposite, actually. Her hands were ice. The skies were clear now. The temperature dropped like an unopened parachute. “Maggie.”

  Once again her eyes opened obediently. He received another sleepy smile. “S’very cold here, Jack.” “You okay?” He stripped off her thin, sodden jacket and received a frown. “No, that’s colder.”

  “Yeah. And it’s going to get even colder, but just for a minute.” A sweatshirt so wet it dripped followed. He pulled her thin t-shirt up over her ribs. Maggie suddenly protested violently. She lashed out blindly, smacking his lip with her fist. He snapped his head back, missing an amazingly hard left-handed blow to the nose, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the even harder right that followed it. Her fist caught him squarely in the eye.

  Jack’s movements were automatic after that. His knee dropped over her legs, immobilizing them. He wrenched the shirt up over her head and down her arms to just past her elbows where he twisted the cloth in a vise with his left hand, crippling her arms long enough for his right to catch both her wrists and raise them over her head. He shoved her back into the rock and straddled her. Subduing her took exactly four seconds.

  Maggie, still trying to wrench her arms free, finally opened her eyes. Once open, they grew huge. “What are you doing here?” When their positions filtered through her sleep-fogged brain, she changed the question slightly. “What are you doing?”

  He smiled. “Trying to get you warm, actually.”

  “By stripping me?”

  He released her arms, pulled the wet shirt off of them and wrung it out to prove his point. “Yeah.” He shrugged out of his coat, enjoying the view. Full creamy breasts strained against a lacy scrap of a bra. Wouldn’t take much to free them. He slid one hand behind her neck, pulling her forward into his chest. He lifted one of her motionless hands and slid it into the arm of the coat, then followed quickly with the second.

  The sudden warmth was so heavenly Maggie had a strong urge to wrap her arms around him and burrow her face into his chest. His hand curled around her neck, guiding her head back to the rock. His fingers brushed her thighs as he connected the heavy nylon zipper. He zipped the coat closed, slowing when he reached the valley between her breasts. His knuckle grazed her skin the rest of the way up. Only then did he smile at her.

  “That didn’t count, darlin’.” Warm from the coat and his touch, she could only smile back at him. Just another dream—and she was warm. Not surprising since he’d been there, in her head, since she closed her eyes. He returned the smile with a slow lazy grin, making no move to get off of her legs.

  “If I kiss you, are you going to hit me again?”

  “Again? I didn’t hit you.”

  He pointed to his lip and she noticed the swelling for the first time. “What happened?” “Apparently, the lady doesn’t like to be stripped in her sleep.”

  She touched his lip with a gentle finger, giving a slight shake of her head. “I did that?” “You did. And I repeat—“

  He didn’t have to. She cupped his face and drew his mouth down to hers, careful to be gentle. “Sorry. And thanks for your coat. Are you freezing?” So easy to talk to this dream-Jack. So natural and normal to want more of his kisses—more of his touch.

  “I will be. Ready to go?”

  Now that she was warm—or at least warmer—all she wanted was another kiss. She smiled seductively. “I’m not going anywhere.” “You’re wet.”

  “Not now.” She mumbled the words over a large yawn.

  “Do you have any more wood?”

  “I’m sure it’s all soaked.” She nodded to a sad pile a few feet from the fire. “And my matches are gone.” Despite her words, she shivered all over again. Her jeans were as wet as the rest of her had been and her thin tennis shoes no better. His fingers moved automatically to her waist, but she caught his wrists with her hands. “I don’t think so. I’m not going to wear your pants.”

  His grin was purely lecherous. “No. But you’re not going to wear yours either.” He pulled the buttons apart as he spoke, one by one, swallowing her protests with a long kiss. She forgot why she was fighting. He reached up under the coat and laid his cold hands on her bare belly. They were warm almost immediately. He inched them higher as he kissed her deeper until he heard that whimper—just like she’d uttered before, at the airport. The little sound crawled under his skin—speared through his heart. Time to stop before he couldn’t.

  He caught her up in his eyes and retreated, kissing her once more quickly before sliding his hands out from under the coat. “I’ve got another fire to build. Take off your jeans and get into this.” He dragged his sleeping bag close to her.

  “No.”

  “Then get your ass up and I’ll take you home.”

  That was not an option. She eyed the sleeping bag then nodded up at him. She wanted to protest, because it was ridiculous, what she was thinking about doing—even for a dream. She sneezed instead and watched him smile that slow, lazy smile. One finger slid back up under the coat, over her belly.

  “This isn’t going to count either. Just so you know.” He stood and offered her his hand. She took it and let him pull her up beside him, watching him in the moonlight. Another sneeze broke the spell. “The bag or the car, Maggie. But decide quick.”

  “Don’t you watch.” He grinned. She turned her back and heard him start to play with the firewood left in her meager pile. She prudently unzipped the side of the sleeping bag before she started. She bent and removed her shoes and her socks. With a quick backward glance to make sure he wasn’t watching, she wriggled out of her sodden jeans. Getting them off took a bit of squirming, as they stuck to her legs like a second skin. Finally,
naked except for her bra, panties and his coat, she slid into the silky sleeping bag and sneezed again.

  Jack didn’t miss a single movement. The first match burned his fingers while he watched her bend over to remove her shoes and socks. He made sure he was busy lighting the fire with the second one when she turned for the glance he knew she had to take. The fire hissed and fizzled out while he watched her peel off her jeans. When those legs that were everything he’d dreamed of slid into the sleeping bag—his sleeping bag—he smiled. He watched her perfectly rounded bottom follow and lit another match. When she finally looked at him, he had a small blaze going. She gave him a shy smile.

  “Better?”

  “Some. I can’t feel my feet.”

  He blew on the fire, added another log to the outside and knelt down beside her again. “Here.” He reached into the coat pocket and pulled out the flask. “You won’t like this stuff. And alcohol won’t really help, except you’ll feel warmer.”

  She took a hesitant sip, barely wetting her lips and grimaced at the taste. He smiled. He’d never taken a lady camping before. But he knew how to get a woman used to the taste of whiskey. “Give it here. I’ll help.” He took a swallow and leaned close to her, grazing her lips. He used the tip of his tongue to moisten hers and heard her breath catch in her throat. “Now kiss me,” he whispered, and she did. He quit almost before he got started—before quitting wasn’t an option.

  Lips parted, she watched him with smoky don’t-stop-yet eyes. “Try it again,” he murmured, kissing her once more. He watched her take a hefty swallow, coughing as the alcohol burned her throat and tried to steal her breath. She didn’t frown. Instead, she looked surprised. He touched her cheek with a gentle finger. “Drink one more like that. It’ll keep you warm until I can.”

  “Your hands are cold.”

  The lazy smile returned. “I know a good place to warm them up. You keep yours warm. I’ll be right back.” Maggie leaned back against the rock. She smiled, watching him through half-closed eyes. He was right. The whiskey had settled in her belly with a warm glow, then spread itself out over her body. She was warm all over, even though she knew her numb feet and legs were still icy inside the silky lining of the sleeping bag. She watched him build up the fire, carefully adding logs until it roared.

  She was going to sleep with him. The whiskey helped with that, too. She could barely hear the sensible voice in her brain now. The murmur was still there, whispering she didn’t know him—had really only met him hours ago—that no matter whether she went by Maggie or Megan, she just didn’t do what she contemplated doing. But Maggie wasn’t listening.

  Neither Maggie nor Megan had been kissed like he’d kissed her. Or felt a man’s hands do the things his had done to her body, awakening swirls of heady wants and needs. And there’d be more—she shivered again, but with anticipation this time.

  He glanced back at her, smiling that smile that undid everything inside. His gaze slid to her mouth. “Ready for me?” She didn’t know how to answer that. “My hands are warm.” He stood then, silhouetted in front of the fire—tall and mysterious. The little slivers of fear from earlier in the day returned. “You’re not going to use the—your gun, are you?”

  He already had his boots off. He dropped down next to her to pull off his socks then didn’t. “Do I need a gun, Maggie?”

  That answer didn’t help at all. And the amusement was back in his eyes. “Scared, darlin’?” He bridged her body with his hands, and leaned close. She felt trapped. Until his lips brushed hers. “You don’t have to be. I won’t hurt you.” He took a drink from the flask and she did too, because she was scared.

  “I don’t do this.” Important that he knew. That he understood she stood at the start of an unblazed trail. Jack did know. Hesitancy was written all over her—and especially in those warm brown eyes of hers. Her reluctance bothered him, somewhere inside, but when she licked the whiskey from her lips, he helped. And when she parted her lips and swayed toward him, he was lost. Too many minutes, too many hours, dreaming of her, of this moment. His hands shook with the want of her.

  “Maybe you should have the gun.” He had the weapon with him, worn just as he’d worn it before. He offered the pistol to her with a smile. Maggie shook her head, but returned the smile and he felt better. She wasn’t okay with all of what was happening between them necessarily, but getting closer to okay.

  He didn’t like the feeling sweeping over him—wanting the next few hours to be good for her—for her to want him as much as he wanted her. He never spent much time worrying about whether the women in his life enjoyed themselves with him—they always did, because he didn’t know another way to go about it. But this need—to ensure that she wasn’t afraid, that there wasn’t a move he made she didn’t want him to make. . .

  That kind of a need could make a man crazy. He kissed her until she made that sound again, then pulled back to see her. Holding her gaze captive in the firelight, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of the coat she wore to warm them. From inside the coat, he cradled her hips, outlining the soft curves of her while he kissed her again. “You’re so damn beautiful, Maggie. Those eyes of yours turn me inside out. Ever since that first glance. I’ve seen you everywhere—and driven myself half-crazy looking for you.” That made her smile. The fear was nearly gone now. He kissed the corner of her mouth and her cheek then moved to her ear, tracing it with the tip of his tongue. “I’m so glad I found you.”

  She moved restlessly. He knew she wasn’t glad he’d found her—just the opposite. Changing her mind about that was suddenly very important.

  He pulled back, fingers sliding into the still damp curls above her ear. “I miss your hair. Why did you cut it?”

  She smiled a nervous evasion. “Don’t like short and sassy?” She missed her long hair too. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes. That suited him, although he couldn’t say why. “I like it fine. I just wanted to feel it long and let it slide through my fingers.” She interrupted him with a sneeze. The sneeze gave way to a huge yawn. The sisters had one thing in common. He’d never known two women who could sneeze and yawn nearly in the same second.

  Jack snagged his backpack with one finger and drew it close. As he rifled through the contents, he fought with himself. She wasn’t like Melissa. Maggie Chambers knew her way around the block. And then some.

  But she didn’t normally drink. Tonight she was half-loaded and exhausted. And Jack had never taken advantage of a woman in his life. Maggie uncorked the flask, helping herself to another drink and he gave a silent groan. To hell with principles. She wanted him as much as he wanted her—desire burned in her luscious eyes.

  The same eyes that watched him now. Only now he could easily read the wariness. He could talk her into sleeping with him—kiss her back into wanting hot, hard sex as much as he did. But convincing her was wrong—and that wrong would always be there between them. Which shouldn’t matter, but did. Had to figure out why, even though he didn’t want to know the answer.

  She sniffed and hiccupped. He handed her a tissue for her nose. She smiled her gratitude and he sighed. His fantasies—two endless years of fantasies—would have to wait. For tonight, he’d have to settle for her being here, close enough to touch. He took the flask from her hand and stretched out next to her. “Time for bed.”

  Damn her eyes. Pure relief shone in them suddenly. He’d made the right decision in backing off, but knowing that didn’t do a thing for the ache below his belt. Maggie wriggled down into the sleeping bag. Jack folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Maggie turned her back to him and put her head down, only to lift it a second later. She peeled back the top of the sleeping bag, brushed the dirt beneath it free of a few pebbles, then lay back down. She repeated the process seconds later. When she lifted her head for a third time, Jack grabbed her shoulders with a soft growl and settled her head firmly on his chest.

  When her head popped back up, he let out an irritable groan. “What? You can’t feel the ro
cks through me.”

  “No—I—I just wanted to say thank you.” The last word was accompanied by a soft hiccup and his irritation vanished. “You’re welcome, darlin’. Now go to sleep.” We’ve got lots of history to cover tomorrow. He didn’t say the words—didn’t want her worrying about tomorrow tonight. He felt her hiccup again before she slowly relaxed.

  Maggie listened to his heart under her ear. His fingers moved absently over her head to find a curl and she smiled. His touch soothed her. That surprised her. She frowned. Why did she like his touch? Let alone how much she liked his touch. She couldn’t afford to like being touched. Certainly not by him.

  Jack’s other hand settled the sleeping bag firmly up over her shoulders. She needn’t worry about being cold for the rest of the night. She wondered if the cold might not be better for her in the long run. When his fingers didn’t still, just continued to stroke through her curls, she lifted her head again. He raised his immediately.

  “Now what’s wrong?” She smiled, hesitantly. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” She folded her arms on his chest and rested her chin on her fist, still watching him. The fire illuminated his face, darkening his incredible eyes. “What’s the name of that whiskey? I want to invest.”

  He grinned and her heart turned over. Simply the most amazing grin, it lit his face and his eyes with pleasure. “Maggie-whiskey. Best stuff I’ve ever tasted.”

  “You really looked for me for two years?” “Every spare second.” His eyes twinkled in the firelight. “Hell. I created spare seconds. And I’ve spent thousands of dollars. Not all of it mine.” The twinkle disappeared and they grew dark with intensity. “Worth every bit of it, you are, Maggie, darlin’. Every single bit.”

  She smiled, and blushed, then settled her head back on his chest. “I’m glad you found me.” Another yawn nearly overwhelmed her. “I’m glad it was you I pulled the gun on, too.” That was followed by a sound that was half-laugh, half-sigh. Then she was asleep.