Eden Burning (23 page)

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Suddenly Nicole wanted to scream at Chase’s insistent questions.
Can’t he see that I don’t want to think about it, to talk about it, to remember?
In her anger at his insensitivity she forgot to retreat, forgot to be humiliated by her own lack of response as a woman.

“You went to bed with me,” Nicole shot back. “Can’t you imagine why a man would get impatient and—and careless? A corpse doesn’t have any feelings to—”

“Shit.”
Chase’s mouth covered Nicole’s and his tongue thrust between her teeth, stopping the scalding flow of words.

After the first overwhelming instant the kiss changed. His tongue touched hers slowly, tenderly. He sipped from her mouth as he had sipped from the heart of the flower.

Although the caress itself was very gentle, she couldn’t have retreated from it if she had tried. His arms held her with a certainty that made her feel both fragile and completely safe. He was reassuring her with his touch that he wouldn’t hurt her physically.

In that, at least, she had been right to trust herself to him.

The knowledge made warmth swirl in delicate currents throughout her body. The sensual heat softened her, changed her, made her breath into a sound wedged deep in her throat.

Her small, husky cry shuddered through Chase. He lifted his mouth and looked down into her face, wanting to tell her how very much he regretted the cruel things he had said in order to make certain that Dane never again thought about having an affair with Nicole.

The sight of her reddened lips made Chase forget everything but how good it had felt to join her mouth to his. With the same ravishing tenderness he had used on the flower, he caught her lower lip between his teeth.

She felt each serration of his teeth as a separate caress, felt the tip of his tongue tasting and stroking her captive flesh, felt the tiny, sensual shocks as he tugged softly on her lip. She wanted to stop breathing, thinking, to do nothing but feel.

“You’re a woman, not a corpse.” Chase groaned and dipped his tongue between her softened, parted lips. “All woman, from head to toes and most especially in between. And if I don’t let go of you,” he added huskily, “I’m going to embarrass the hell out of those kids.”

But instead of releasing her right away, he kissed her again, slowly, deeply, saying with his kiss all that he didn’t have words to describe. When he finally lifted his head, he saw hunger in her eyes, and fear.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he said, his voice aching.

She shook her head. “It’s not that.”

The words were tight, as flat as the line of her lips. She tried to step back away from him but couldn’t. He held her too closely, too powerfully. Too carefully. She felt naked, then wished she really was. She wanted to pull him over her, inside her.

Impossible.

All of it.

She would only hurt herself more. The way she was hurting herself now. Dreaming when she knew damn well what reality was.

“If you’re not afraid of me, what—” he began.

“Let go of me,” she cut in desperately. “Please, Chase. It—it hurts.”

Puzzled, he released her. “Sorry. I didn’t think I was holding you hard enough to hurt you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Gently he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Then what hurts, sweet dancer?”

She took a deep, broken breath. Running hadn’t worked. Hiding hadn’t worked. Maybe blunt words would. Anything was better than feeling like she was dangling between heaven and hell.

“Knowing that I’m only half a woman hurts,” she said. “When I’m around you, it hurts even more. You make me want things that are just impossible.”

“What things?” He touched the full curve of her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, but what he really wanted was to feel her softness shivering beneath his mouth again. “What do I make you want?”

“To be woman enough to please you in bed.”

He couldn’t conceal his shock. Of all the things he had expected her to say, that wasn’t even close.

She almost smiled at the look on his face. Almost. But it hurt too much to be alive just now. Smiling was out of the question.

“Yeah,” she said huskily. “Some joke, right? Go ahead and laugh. But don’t wait for me to join in. I’ll laugh tomorrow, or the day after. Or . . .” She shrugged and started up the trail, fresh out of easy words.

Stunned, Chase simply stared as Nicole turned away. Then his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, holding her close without hurting her.

“For the love of God . . . !” He shook his head once, sharply, still barely able to believe what he had heard. “Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t please
you
in bed? It sure as hell occurred to me.”

“But you did,” she said in a dull voice. “You pleased me more than my husband ever did. And I pleased you much less than a real woman would.”

Just as Chase opened his mouth to tell her how wildly wrong she was, he saw a flicker of movement along the top of the lava flow. Someone was coming back to check on them.

With a sliding pressure of his fingers, he released her wrist and said quietly, “We’ll talk later. In private.”

“There’s nothing left to talk about.” Nicole’s expression was as weary as her voice. “You felt guilty for hurting me. Well, it wasn’t your fault, so you can stop worrying about making it right. It was the truth that hurt me, not you. I’m not much of a woman in bed and you’re all man. Talking won’t change that. Nothing will.”

“Path?” Benny called from above their heads.

“No, thanks,” she called back, understanding Benny’s one-word question. “You don’t need to find another way up for me. There’s nothing wrong with this path that walking on it won’t cure.”

Chase watched Nicole disappear over the top of the lava flow. She moved cleanly, gracefully, and with an elemental femininity that made him want to grab her and not let go until she knew just how mistaken she was about herself.

But he couldn’t do that here, with the kids waiting. There was nothing to do but follow her. He went up the lava wall in a coordinated rush, using strength where Nicole had used finesse, and wishing urgently that the two of them were alone. With each step he took, each rough scrape of stone against his bandages, her words echoed in his head.

I’m not much of a woman in bed and you’re all man.

You’re half wrong, Nicole,
he retorted silently.
I can’t wait until we’re alone and I can show you which half.

Tantalizing thoughts of all the ways to demonstrate just how mistaken Nicole was about her sensuality kept burning in Chase’s mind for the rest of the hike. Thoughts were all he had. There wasn’t any way to talk to her privately or even to touch her for the sheer pleasure of feeling her tremble with the elemental female response she had denied being capable of.

She didn’t give him a single chance to get close to her. Every time he looked, she was in the center of a crowd of laughing kids. When they rested along the trail, she either had her sketchbook out or Lisa on her lap or both.

He was relieved that fear no longer darkened Nicole’s eyes when he walked up to her, but no other emotion appeared either. In some uncanny, maddening way she avoided him even while she was looking straight into his eyes.

The third time it happened, he wanted to grab her and lift her up to eye level until she looked—really looked—at him.

Great,
he told himself sardonically.
Grabbing her and shoving your face in hers is a really cool way to impress her with how sensitive and gentle and understanding you are. You might try remembering that kind of in-your-face assault on the defense is the least likely way to move a football, much less a woman.

Ahead of Chase, hikers started dropping out of sight as they scrambled down into Kamehameha Iki. The kipuka was at least several hundred years old, for huge ohia and koa trees grew there. A deep, clear spring welled up at the north end of the kipuka, creating a mirrorlike pool. Scarlet blossoms were reflected in the water, along with the changing, rainbow-hung sky. Lush plant life cushioned the ground in shades of green broken by splashes of color from flowers.

The kids lost no time in peeling down to their swimsuits and washing off the heat and grime of the hike. Nicole posted herself on a fern-covered outcrop and watched the swimmers. Her actions were automatic—she always kept an eye on little Lisa, making sure she didn’t get lost in the heedless, high-speed play of the older kids.

As soon as they both were cool, Benny signaled Lisa. The two of them stole off into a quiet corner of the kipuka. Nicole noted that Lisa wasn’t playing in the water anymore, and returned to her sketching. She wasn’t worried about Lisa being trampled playing with Benny.

Chase also saw the two young kids leave and relaxed. Lisa was safer with Benny than with anyone else; even the adults were counting on the boy to lead them out of the forest. Chase marked the place in the kipuka where Benny and Lisa had gone, and then turned back to watch Nicole.

He wanted to sit next to her, but the outcrop she had chosen was built for one, not two. After a quiet mental curse, he got out his own notebook and started doing what he should have been doing all along—taking notes on the varieties of plants growing on lava of different ages and types.

Every few minutes he glanced up from his work, making sure that the teenage water sprites weren’t getting too wild playing their game of water tag. Satisfied that everyone was happy and accounted for, he returned his attention to his notes.

Without seeming to, Nicole watched Chase’s increasing concentration on the kipuka around him. Part of her was relieved that he no longer searched her out with rain-colored eyes and stormy urgency. She told herself everything was fine now. She had finally made him understand that he shouldn’t feel guilty for what had happened. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t respond to a man.

Maybe it wasn’t even her fault. Maybe it was simply a fact, like the hardened lava twisting over the land.

Just a fact.

But it would have been so wonderful to stand inside his arms again, to know the shimmering sweetness of his tongue sliding over hers, to feel his heat and strength radiating through her. Even the thought of it was enough to send delicate currents of pleasure through her body. The memory of his mouth caressing her breasts made her nipples rise and tighten, adding more heat to the restlessness deep inside her.

It won’t happen again, so quit torturing yourself. That kind of touching doesn’t please a man, not really. A man wants more.

Chase knows he isn’t going to get it. Not from me. I can’t give it to him. So why would he waste his time petting me and frustrating himself?

The answer was simple. He wouldn’t.

“Sad?” Benny whispered, appearing from nowhere to stand next to Nicole’s lava outcrop.

She forced a smile onto her face and wished silently that Benny’s emotional radar was less sensitive. A whole lot less. “Where’s Lisa?”

“Hunting.”

Startled, Nicole blinked. Then she remembered the special kind of hunting Benny had taught his small friend.

“Syrup?” she asked.

Benny nodded. “Sketch?”

“You mean she caught one?”

“Big-big.” His smile lit up his dark, lean face.

Clutching the sketch pad, Nicole scrambled off her rocky perch. “Good-good! Where?”

“Close.”

She gave a quick look around. No Lisa, but the older children had exhausted themselves for the moment and were sprawled on their towels making up awful puns. That should keep them occupied long enough for her to sneak off. Even if it didn’t, Chase was keeping a close eye on everything no matter how many notes he wrote.

Nicole half smiled. It was a good feeling to share the responsibility for the kids with another adult.

With a last look over her shoulder, she tiptoed after Benny. As she twisted and wriggled through the tight greenery, she envied the boy’s ease and silence. The instant he slowed down, she did. When he stopped, she crept up behind him and looked over his shoulder.

Still wearing her red bathing suit, Lisa sat cross-legged in the middle of a small, flower-dotted clearing. The back of her gently curled hands were supported on her knees.

Three huge butterflies rested with folded wings on the edge of her left hand, drinking from the tiny pool of sugar syrup cupped in her palm. Each butterfly was as big as her hand. Their velvety black wings were set off by splashes of orange and white.

Entranced, Lisa sat without moving, a look of breathless pleasure on her face.

Nicole memorized everything about the glade and the girl and the moment. She wanted to draw Lisa, but was afraid if she lifted her sketchbook she would startle the butterflies into flight.

Then Nicole sensed someone behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know that Chase was there, close enough for her to feel his heat and hear the intake of his breath when he saw his daughter sitting in the sunlight with a handful of black-velvet butterflies.

For long minutes no one moved, no one spoke.

The breeze shifted, sending a flurry of tree shadows over the seated girl. The butterflies opened their color-splashed wings, lifted with the new currents, and chased one another in wild spirals that took them out of sight among the trees.

Nicole let out a long breath and squeezed Benny’s shoulder. “Thank you. That was beautiful.”

The boy gestured toward the little girl, then toward himself, and said proudly, “Kamehameha.” With that, he set off across the little clearing toward Lisa.

“The butterflies are named after the Kamehamehas, the last Hawaiian royal family,” Nicole explained softly without turning around.

“So Benny is descended from kings,” Chase said in a low voice. “And Bobby, too.”

“Maybe.” She laughed quietly. “I don’t know of a native on the islands who doesn’t boast direct descent from kings. But Bobby has one thing going for his claim.”

“What?”

“Size. The Hawaiian kings and queens were huge. Seven feet wasn’t unusual for male royalty. And a woman under six feet tall was a shrimp,” Nicole added in an unconsciously wistful tone.

Knowing she couldn’t see it, Chase smiled and looked at her from head to toe, liking every inch of what he saw.

“They were big eaters, too,” she said. “A few centuries ago Bobby would have weighed at least a hundred pounds more than he does today. That’s why the butterflies are called Kamehameha.”

“A four-hundred-pound butterfly?” Chase teased.

She snickered. “No. Just giants among their own kind. A four-inch wingspan.”

“Daddy,” Lisa called excitedly, looking beyond Benny to the underbrush where the two adults remained hidden. “Did you see me? Three butterflies! Benny says I must be related to the old kings to be such a good hunter.”

“How did he say all that in one word?” Chase asked beneath his breath.

“ ‘Princess,’ ” Nicole retorted softly.

She sensed as much as heard the laughter rising in his chest.

Chase stepped out into the clearing. “I saw you. I didn’t know you were such a good hunter. Do you think Benny can teach me to catch butterflies as well as you do?”

“We don’t really catch them,” she corrected quickly. “I mean, we sort of do, but we don’t touch them or hurt them or anything. They touch
us.
It tickles like—like fairies laughing.”

The voices of father and daughter floated back through the sun-dappled clearing to the place where Nicole stood concealed in the shadows.

“I know you don’t hurt them, punkin.” Chase scooped up his daughter and settled her in the crook of his arm. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be any fun for the butterflies, would it? Or for us.” With his free hand he reached down and ruffled Benny’s thick hair affectionately. “What about it, Benny? Can the descendant of Hawaiian kings be bothered to teach a mere haole the secrets of butterfly hunting?”

The boy laughed. “Sure-sure.”

Nicole watched while the three of them chose places and sat cross-legged in the tiny, warm clearing. Benny’s voice had the clarity of a silver bell as he told Chase how to sit, how to rest his hands palm up on his knees, how to breathe quietly and slowly.

And all in four words.

Benny squeezed a clear, thick pool of sugar syrup into Chase’s palm, stepped back, and added the most important instruction: “Wait.”

“That’s all there is to it?” Chase asked.

“Sure-sure,” Lisa said. She pointed toward a velvet-winged butterfly settling onto a flower a few feet away. “She knows you’re here. If she’s hungry, she’ll come to you.”

“She?” Chase asked. “You sure?”

“Sure-sure. All pretty butterflies are girls. Like me.”

“Makes sense, pretty girl,” he said, hiding a smile. “What if it, er,
she
doesn’t come to me? Do I chase her?”

“No-no-no,” Lisa said instantly. “You’re too big, Daddy. You might hurt her. You don’t want to do that, do you?”

His smile faded. “No, I don’t want to hurt anything that delicate and beautiful.”

Lisa shifted a little, found a more comfortable way to sit, and waited while Benny put a few drops of the sugar solution on her hand. Silence and utter stillness claimed the clearing, as though even the wind was watching with breath held.

Nicole certainly was almost afraid to breathe as various butterflies skimmed and swirled over the flowers. No matter how many times they flew over or around or near the patient humans, none of the butterflies felt brave enough to land.

Finally a huge Kamehameha butterfly hovered around Chase’s hand in a slowly closing, unpredictable spiral. Delicately the butterfly settled on the edge of his callused palm, then instantly fled, then settled once more, only to flit away again without drinking.

Chase didn’t move at all, not even to present his lure more openly. He simply waited while the velvet wings fluttered closer and closer. At last the butterfly floated down to rest completely, safely, in the palm of his hand, drinking deeply of the sweetness he offered.

Nicole knew the exact instant when the butterfly trustingly drank. It was the moment when Chase looked up and found her concealed among the green shadows, wistfully watching a butterfly cherished within the hard curve of his hand.