Chance Encounter (10 page)

“Dammit,” he growled out, backing away from her as if she had the plague.
“Dammit.”

“What…” She had to clear her throat to speak. “What was that about?”

“Nothing. It was just a kiss.”

Just a kiss.

That had been
just a kiss?

Well she was certainly glad he’d cleared that up for her because she’d been quite positive it had been more, far more, as in something from the heart, from the soul. Her lips tingled, and she brought a hand up to them. They were wet, and aching for more. This was bad, very bad, because it wasn’t just her body yearning for more, either. Nope, her heart hurt, too. And that’s what scared her.

“I want to stay away from you,” he said. “I mean to stay away from you.”

“Well you’re not doing a very good job.”

“I’m going to try harder.”

“Good. Because…” Her throat tightened. Just looking at him was bad for her mental health. She wanted
him, plain and simple. And he wanted her, too; she knew that. But he didn’t
want
to want her, and that hurt more than it should.

Suddenly she missed her old world. Her old, quiet world. Okay, maybe it hadn’t been so quiet. Maybe she’d been too busy taking care of everyone but herself, but at least she hadn’t hurt like this. “I want my old life back,” she whispered.

He nodded curtly. “Then go get it.”

So simple. So why, then, did it seem so hard?

C
HANCE SPENT THE
next few moments morosely watching Ally’s all too nice behind as it wiggled its way farther up the mountain. She wore khaki shorts and a snug fitting T-shirt with a fleece vest. The material clung to her every curve in a way that made thinking a calculated effort. The insistent ache in his groin urged him to grab her back, beg forgiveness for being an insensitive jerk so that he could bury himself deep inside her and assuage this crazy need.

She wasn’t speaking to him.

His only defense was that she’d kissed him stupid. Completely, utterly, one-hundred-percent
stupid.
Again.

I want my old life back.
Her words echoed in his head. At least she knew enough to know she didn’t belong here. From the moment she’d first gotten off the plane and looked at him with those huge eyes, she’d done nothing but complicate his life.

They were high up on the mountain now, on the edge of the burned acreage, where the fire had done the most damage. No longer did the fresh twigs crunch beneath their feet. Instead, the charred landscape gave way without a sound. Eerie, and infinitely sad.

He stood there on the line between the living and the dead, his senses assaulted by the acrid smell of smoke and burnt pine. In spite of their work up here, it would be years before the land repaired itself, and with a deep, unsettled sigh, he started moving again. “I have no idea what you think you’re going to find.”

Ally, looking as grim and shaken at the sight as he did, just kept walking, searching…all the while ignoring him. Which maybe, when he thought about it, worked in his favor. If she wasn’t talking to him, wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t driving him crazy, then he couldn’t ache for her. Soon Lucy would come back, Ally would go, and his life could return to normal. “Ally?”

She kept moving, head high, shoulders stiff, determination blazing from her every pore. God, she was something. Had he really ever thought her fragile? Vulnerable? Easily dismissed?

“Look!” she cried suddenly. “Look at this tree!”

It hadn’t burned. The fire had leaped, sparing a square piece of land about twenty feet across. A little miracle.

What held her interest was a huge, old pine tree. Right at shoulder height was a spot bare of bark, where someone had carved it smooth. In the spot was an etched heart. And the initials B.H. + M.M.

“Brian,” Ally whispered, reaching up above the heart where a blue scarf had been set. “Brian Hall.” Spinning in a circle, she laughed, arms spread out wide. Then, in a move that completely shocked him, she flung herself into his arms and squeezed him tight.

She was soft and warm and smelled incredible, and his body reacted immediately, violently.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, oblivious to his reaction. Still grinning, she pulled away. But when she caught him staring at her, probably with the hottest look of undisguised, unadulterated hunger she’d ever seen, her smile faded. Self-consciously, she tugged at her vest. “This must be where Brian and his secret girlfriend get together.”

“You’re reaching now.”

“No, look. It rained two days ago, yet this scarf—
Brian’s
scarf—is perfectly dry and clean, which means it had to be brought here recently, right? As in maybe even the day of the fire. That girl, whoever M.M. is, can provide an alibi for Brian.”

“Maybe.”

“Probably,” she repeated stubbornly.

“It’s not a bad make-out spot,” he said, looking around at the thick trees, at the lush growth underfoot, all of which had been spared certain death by the firefighters. It was private, and he could imagine pressing Ally back against the tree, could imagine stripping her slowly, then burying himself between her soft thighs.

“It’s definitely a spot for lovers.” There was no mistaking her soft voice, her dreamy little sigh.

Which served as a vivid reminder that his prim little Ally wasn’t so prim after all.

“Not that I condone them coming here,” she said quickly. “They’re far too young. But there’s something magical, something—”

She broke off and shot him a quick glance before turning away, but it was enough to see the spark of heat, the slight blush to her cheeks. “Never mind.” She slipped off her vest and kneeled on the ground, stuffing it in her backpack. Her hair fell over her face, and she was half turned from him, but there was no mistaking her emotions, which were all over her face.

Confusion.

A hunger to rival his.

And hurt.

It was the last that killed him. “Ally—”

“We’d better get back, it’s a long walk.”

“Brian’s in school, or he’d better be,” he heard himself saying. “We can ask him about the scarf later.” He carefully removed it from the tree.

Still hunkered down by her backpack, she looked up warily. “Why would you want to stay here when you can hardly even look at me? You certainly can’t
talk
to me. Or be friends with me the way you are with every single other person on your staff. In fact, if you’re not yelling at me, you’re—”

“I’m…?”

“Kissing me,” she whispered. “You need to stop that. It just…messes with my head.”

He found himself squatting beside her, reaching out to touch her arm. “It messes with mine, too.”

“Then stop.”

“I can’t seem to do that.” His fingers skimmed up her forearm past her elbow, passing lightly over her upper arm. She didn’t so much as blink.
What was she
thinking?
For once, he didn’t have a clue. His fingers dallied at her shoulder, and she shuddered.

“When you touched me before,” he said softly, in apology. “When you hugged me—”

“I shouldn’t have,” she interrupted. “It was silly, I was just happy, that’s all. Forget it.”

He wanted to see her smile again. He didn’t understand it, or the need to be the one responsible for that smile. But then again, he’d never understood half the emotions she caused in him.

So he stopped thinking and acted, slowly standing, drawing her up as well. Their bodies were close, and he entwined one hand with hers. With his other hand, he gently slid the scarf over her cheek, her jaw.

Ally closed her eyes. She couldn’t help herself. When he stroked her again, she made a sound that surely told him exactly what he was doing to her. “Don’t worry,” she managed. “Lucy will be back really soon.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m leaving.”

“Yes.”

She opened her eyes and lifted her gaze to his, and there was something so hot, so intense in the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to consume her, inhale her, devour her. But they weren’t intimate. They weren’t even friends. “You’ll be glad when I go.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, in complete contradiction to the regret in his eyes. He touched her again.

Again she closed her eyes, needing to protect her
self from that look, from the wonder and the heat and the affection, because it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real.

He couldn’t really feel those things for her. “You want to stay away from me, remember?”

“I can’t,” he said softly. The cool scarf slid over her neck now. His thighs brushed hers. His chest slid close too, in a touch so light she wasn’t sure it was real. But her nipples hardened and her heart sped up. She gripped his fingers tight. “Chance…”

“When you touch me,” he said, his voice as silky as the scarf, “I get instantly hard. Did you know that?”

“N-no—”

He rocked his hips to hers.

“Um…yes.” He was most definitely hard.

He rocked again.

Very
hard.

She felt the scarf through her thin, V-necked T-shirt as he slid it down further, over her collar bone. His eyes followed the movement with dark intensity as he skimmed it over a breast and the very turgid tip. Unable to contain her small gasp, she reached behind her and grasped the tree so that she didn’t collapse. “Chance—”

“I want to taste you again,” he murmured into her hair as he dropped the scarf and wrapped his arms around her.

“No kisses,” she said quickly, trying to pull back, but he held her right where he wanted her, not hurting her, not letting her go, either. “Remember? We just decided.”

He simply brushed his mouth across her cheek and
jaw, to the soft spot beneath her ear, where he gently drew in a patch of skin and sucked.

Was it possible for bones to melt? “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because it feels good. You feel good.” He brushed his lips over hers. “You taste good, too.” And then he used his tongue, slowly, thoroughly. Expertly.

Instant heat. Instant need.

He angled her head where he wanted her and brought her against him, hard. At the feel of him, so wild, so aroused, she shivered. He simply drew her even closer, his hands sliding over her waist, her hips, her back, untucking her shirt so he could touch bare skin, and when he did, he moaned at the feel of her.

It was a struggle to remember they had no future. That he was determined to be alone to live as he chose. That she was determined not to mess up her life again. She didn’t want to care for him, didn’t want to care for
anyone
this way, at least not now.

She wanted her freedom, too.

But freedom didn’t have to mean celibacy. She could want him, have him, then walk away, couldn’t she? It could be part of the adventure. Knowing that, she let herself sink into how he made her feel. He was so good at making her aware of nothing but him, at making her skin hot, her mind blank. Making her want to do things she’d never thought of before. So she kissed him back with all she had, which was with far more emotion than finesse, but he didn’t seem to mind. She couldn’t stop touching him, running her hands over his corded neck, his broad shoulders, the
hard planes of his chest and the bunched muscles of his arms.

With a low, heartfelt groan, he pressed her back against the tree. She felt his fingers stroke her sides beneath her shirt, outlining her ribs. His warm, calloused hands skimmed over her belly, tingling every inch of her heated, damp body. “So soft,” he whispered. Nibbling his way to her ear, he let out a rough sound of pleasure as his hands closed over her breasts. His fingers were long and warm, and he glided his thumbs over her tight nipples, back and forth, making her whimper for more. One of his hands slipped down, down, past her bottom, her thighs, catching her behind the knee, lifting her leg up to his hip, so that he could press his hips to hers and glide the neediest part of him to the neediest part of her.

She nearly lost it. Her limbs turned to rubber, her vision was interrupted by stars and her head hit the tree trunk with a light thud as she cried out his name, so close, so close…

“I’ve wanted to touch you this way since I first saw you,” he whispered against her ear.

Beyond manners, beyond rational thought, much less humility, she grasped his shirt in her fists. “Then touch me. Touch me now.”

“Here?” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her throat. He sounded as if he’d just gotten out of bed. Rough. Sexy.

Well, she’d wanted wild, hadn’t she? And he was making her wild, no doubt. “Here.”

His deep, dark gaze searched hers for exactly one
heartbeat before he lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. With a flick of his fingers, her front-clasp bra opened and he took her aching flesh into his hands, making them both gasp with pleasure.

She tugged off his shirt, too. So far gone she didn’t care that they had only the sky and the trees for coverage. At the sight of all his dark, edgy beauty, right here in front of her, all hot and aroused, for her, she nearly sank to the ground.

With no little amount of awe, she ran her fingers over hard muscle and hot skin that rippled with strength and quivered with desire at her touch. Marveling at the feel of him, she wanted more, and tried to get it. Bold for the first time in her life, she cupped him in her hands. He blew out a serrated breath and captured her wrists. Gathering them over her head against the tree, he looked down at her with a gaze so hot it sizzled her skin everywhere it landed.

“I want to touch you,” she murmured, flexing against the restraint, letting out a sigh when he bent to trace wet, openmouthed kisses over the column of her neck.

He groaned when she arched against him, groaned again when she rubbed her aroused, aching flesh back and forth over his erection. “Not…yet.”

Her protest ended on a shivery sigh as his lips closed over a nipple, sucking her into his warm, wet mouth, making her writhe against him, straining against the hand that still held her to the tree. His free hand slid down her body to the button at the top of her shorts. He lifted his head, staring into her eyes,
and slowly undid it. Next came the rasp of her zipper. His fingers squeezed her waist, stroked the base of her spine, then skimmed lower, inside the material now, where he spread his hand wide over her bottom, kneading her bare skin, urging her to feel him, all of him, every single hard inch.

He still had her hands and gaze captive, but it was the subtle movement of his hips to hers that really held her bonded, and helplessly she thrust back, again and again, a slave to the erotic rhythm that only mocked what she really wanted. “Chance…”

“I know.” He dropped to his knees before her, slipping off one of her shoes, then the other, his fingers lingering over her thighs and calves as he skimmed off her shorts as well.

Which left her standing outside in the bright morning sun, wearing nothing but an uncertain smile and white cotton panties. She’d forgotten that an adventuress would probably have invested in sexy lingerie.

He hooked his thumbs under the elastic.

Stricken with a sudden sense of modesty, she put her hands over his.
What was she doing?
She tried to pull him back up, but he was unbudgeable. “Um…Chance?”

He slowly tugged on the only scrap of material covering her.

“I’m thinking that maybe this isn’t—
Oh, my,
” she gasped as his tongue swirled over her hipbone. “I’m not sure—” This time she broke off with a moan as he took a little bite out of her, but when she could draw a
breath, she gamely tried again. “It’s…a little breezy out here.”