Lost and Found (10 page)

"Well, it does and it doesn't. I don't work a nine-to-five job. It would be a little silly to pretend I needed to. I do quite a bit of volunteer work, though."

"Arranging flowers at the hospital."

"Sometimes. I also spent two months in Ethiopia working with famine victims. I've done quite a bit of work with the Red Cross in different parts of the world. It sounds pompous, I suppose, but I kind of feel that when you've got as much money as my family does, you should do a little something to help other people with it."

"You could donate money. No one would expect you to get involved personally."

She shrugged uneasily. "I guess. It's more satisfying, though, when you can feel like you actually made a difference personally."

Sam watched her, trying to imagine her in dirty khakis giving aid to victims of disaster. It wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. He was discovering that there were several sides to Ms. Babette Malone. It was a discovery he didn't entirely welcome.

"I'm starving. What have we got to eat?" Babs's question put an end to the uncomfortable conversation—uncomfortable for both of them.

Isolated in the back of the moving truck, they might have been the only two people in the world. There was no one else to talk to, nothing else to do. It created an odd feeling of intimacy, a closeness that made them feel as if they'd known each other for years rather than a few short days.

"Looks like it's getting dark."

Sam glanced up at the windows. The light had been fading so gradually, he hadn't really been aware of it. Babs's comment made him realize that it was getting difficult to see inside their moving hideaway.

"We'd better figure out where we're going to sleep tonight. Looks like our friend plans on driving straight through."

"Well, he stopped long enough for lunch," Babs grumbled.

Sam grinned, remembering her exasperation when he'd refused to let her leave the truck except for a quick trip to a service station rest room. He didn't want to risk their being left behind—not when he was running out of money. As it .turned out, they'd have had plenty of time to get a meal but there'd been no way of knowing that. So they'd sat in the back of the truck, which was growing uncomfortably warm, and waited for their unwitting host to return.

"The poor guy had to eat."

"Considering how long he took, he must have eaten enough to feed an army."

"He's a big guy."

Whatever Babs might have said was lost in a series of sneezes. The truck hit a bump, throwing her off balance and Sam caught her arm, holding her steady until the fit eased. It was the second time in the last hour that she'd had a sneezing fit.

"Are you catching a cold?" He reached out to put his hand on her forehead but she pulled away.

"It's just the dust in this truck. I think I'm allergic to packing blankets."

Sam didn't insist on checking for fever. He wasn't sure he'd be able to tell anything anyway. Their close confines had done nothing to cool the ache that had begun with last night's kiss. He gathered a stack of packing blankets and spread them out in a makeshift bed, trying not to think about spending yet another night sleeping with Babs only inches away.

She wasn't his type. He kept telling himself that but it didn't seem to help. Somehow, over the course of the last few days, his type seemed to have changed. Big brown eyes and a slim little frame were beginning to look more and more appealing.

It didn't matter how many times he reminded himself that it was just their proximity—or the differences in their life-styles. He tried remembering his first impressions of her as a spoiled rich brat, but now what he saw was a frightened woman who'd been willing to risk her neck to try to escape.

He thumped the packing blankets with unnecessary vigor, too aware of Babs just a few feet away. He wanted her. He allowed the thought in. He wanted her. In fact, he ached with the wanting. But that didn't mean he was going to do anything about it. Not only was it bad policy to get involved with a client, it wasn't smart to get involved with a woman who was rich enough to make Fort Knox look like a coin collection. Besides, she was too vulnerable, too dependent on him. Only a scoundrel would put the moves on a woman in her position.

He poked his foot into the stack of blankets. Too bad he was such a nice guy. Scoundrels had all the fun.

He turned, forcing what he hoped was a normal smile. Whatever he'd planned to say was forgotten when the truck hit a deep rut. Babs stumbled and Sam reached out, catching her close, bracing his feet apart to take her weight.

She was such a lightweight against him. Sam shifted his hold to her waist, intending to set her away. Somehow, his hands lingered, feeling the warmth of her skin through her shirt. Babs tilted her head back, looking up at him. The light had almost disappeared, replaced by the occasional flash of brilliance as they passed a street lamp. In the darkness, her eyes were deep, mysterious pools full of secrets and promises. Her mouth was soft, inviting. An invitation he couldn't quite resist.

Her mouth felt as soft as it looked. Her hands quivered against his chest but he could only guess at the emotions that caused it. It was a monumental effort to stop with a simple kiss. He wanted more, so much more. His mouth drew away from hers reluctantly and he stared down into her eyes.

Now was the time to make some light remark, some casual comment that would ease the tension. He'd say something witty and urbane and they'd both be reassured that a kiss was nothing much these days, nothing much at all.

He opened his mouth—and the truck hit another rut. This one felt as if the left side wheels had just fallen into the San Andreas Fault line. Sam's hold tightened on Babs and he heard her soft gasp as his feet shot out from under him and they tumbled onto the thick mound of blankets he'd so carefully stacked.

Babs landed on top of him, her slight weight pressed along his body. In a passing flash of light, Sam saw her eyes, wide and startled. All thoughts of casual comments slid from his mind. She felt so right against him, so dangerously, wonderfully right.

His hand slid up her back, his eyes never leaving hers. He held his breath, waiting for her to object, knowing he'd die if she didn't want him as much as he wanted her. His hand clasped the back of her neck, her hair sliding like watered silk over his fingers.

Babs quivered and he paused, trying to read her expression in the light of passing street lamps. But he didn't need to see her face. Her hands moved up his chest to rest on his shoulders and it didn't take any urging from him to bring her face down to his.

This kiss was different from others they'd shared. This time the passion was in the open. He wasn't offering her comfort or companionship. He was offering pure masculine need, a hunger for her. Her breath left her on a sigh as his lips opened, his tongue sliding between her teeth to stroke sensuously over hers.

Sam kept one hand at the back of her head and slid the other down her back to her hips, pressing her closer, letting her feel the pressure of his need. She tensed for a moment, as if half-frightened, and then her body went limp against him, her mouth softening magically. Sam felt her total acceptance sweep over him, blowing the flame of his need even higher.

He groaned low in his throat and rolled so that she was beneath him, pinning her to the thick padding, making her his willing prisoner. Her fingers slid through his hair, pulling him eyen closer, her body arching into his.

"I've wanted you forever." The words breathed out against her cheek as he moved to taste the delicate shell of her ear.

"You've only known me a few days."

"Forever. I've known you forever." Sam's fingers slid open the buttons on her shirt, tugging the fabric loose from her jeans and spreading it beneath her. His mouth slid down her neck, tasting the frantic pulse that beat in the hollow at the base of her throat. Babs gasped as his hand slipped inside the lace of her bra, cupping her breast, his thumb teasing a dusky nipple to life.

She went rigid when his mouth replaced his hand. Sam hesitated but she seemed to be holding her breath, waiting. His tongue flicked out, stroking around her nipple, dampening it before his mouth closed around her, suckling gently. She arched, her hands drawing him closer, telling him without words just how she felt. He clasped her waist, feeling the satin of her skin, warm beneath his hands—warm and supple. He wanted to feel that skin against his, wanted to feel every inch of her.

Babs mumbled a protest when he drew away from her but he was already pulling her with him, tugging the opened shirt off and tossing it aside. Her bra followed but when he reached for the snap of her jeans, she stopped him, her hands reaching for his shirt. The message was clear.

He grinned and held his arms out to his sides. Babs concentrated on his shirt, sliding each button loose, baring his chest by inches. The feel of her fingers brushing so lightly against him, the scent of her hair, everything about her combined into a haunting image that Sam knew he'd never forget. Never.

The shirt was open at last and she slid her hands inside, tilting her head back to look at him as her palm settled over his heart, feeling the strong beat of his pulse. Sam reached out to cup her face, staring into her eyes, wishing he could read her expression more clearly, half-afraid of what he might see there.

He kissed her, a long drugging kiss that left them both breathless and aching for more. His hands fumbled with the snap of her jeans, feeling the silky skin of her stomach jump beneath his touch. He slid his hands inside, cupping her buttocks, drawing her onto her knees facing him.

A street lamp flashed by illuminating them in a stroke of white light. Two figures, one slim with pale skin a soft contrast to the harder, darker planes of her companion. Her lover. She leaned closer, her hands linking around his neck, her breasts brushing against the dark hair on his chest. Sam groaned. His knees were braced apart to compensate for the sway of the truck; he drew her against him, cradling her between his thighs, tan-talizingly close and yet apart.

Her head fell back, an invitation that was impossible to resist. His teeth nipped the taut cord of her neck, tasted the incredibly soft skin of her shoulder and then found the gentle weight of her breast. Babs whimpered, a quiet sound in the back of her throat. Her hands opened and closed on the hard muscles of his shoulders, telling him without words just what his mouth was doing to her.

He eased her back, sliding the jeans down, his hands shaking as he stripped the last of their clothes away. He lay next to her, his thigh pinning her hips, his mouth catching her soft gasp of pleasure as their bodies touched.

Sam kissed and stroked her, his hands exploring her body, learning it through touch, reining in his burning need, feeling her skin grow hot beneath his hands. Her legs shifted beneath his, her body arching in an age-old invitation. It was more than Sam could resist.

He shifted, lifting himself above her, settling between her thighs. A light flashed by, giving him a glimpse of her. Her eyes were wide in her flushed face, glittering with a need that she only half-understood.

He pressed into her, hearing her startled gasp as she felt the weight of him. He eased forward, giving her time to adjust. His body screamed with the need to bury himself inside, to take what was so clearly his alone.

He felt his arms tremble as the softness of her belly met the tight muscles of his. Never had he felt so complete, so whole. Babs lay still beneath him but he could feel the tension that quivered through her, the trembling need for something she didn't understand.

He began to move, grinding his teeth together, drawing on every bit of control he'd ever possessed. She gasped, her fingers digging into his waist. Hesitantly, she echoed his movements and Sam thought he'd surely explode. He picked up the pace, feeling her tremble beneath him. She whimpered, her movements becoming more frantic.

He felt her fear as the tension spiraled higher, felt her trying to draw away, frightened by the precipice that loomed ahead.

"It's okay, baby. Let it go." He whispered the words, his voice hoarse.

"I can't. I can't." Her words reflected her growing panic.

"I've got you." She shook her head, her body quivering on the brink of something that would surely tear her apart.

"No."

"Yes." He reached beneath her, his palm spanning her buttocks, drawing her upward, letting her feel his demand. His insistence.

The movement left her no choice. She arched, her eyes wide with startled wonder as his movements threw her into the vortex she'd so feared. She spun into a million pieces, only the weight of Sam's perspiration-slick body keeping her from dissolving completely. Her nails bit into his back, seeking something to cling to in a world suddenly, deliciously mad.

She heard his groan and felt the heavy pulse of him as he joined her in the whirling pleasure. For an instant the pleasure was so intense it frightened her, but Sam held her close and she knew he'd never let her get lost.

The slide from the peak was long and slow. Sam stroked her trembling body, dropping kisses across her flushed face, murmuring soft words of praise. He made her feel warm and loved, a feeling she'd known all too little of in her life.

She yawned, feeling exhaustion slip over her like a heavy blanket. She struggled with it, trying to keep her eyes open. There were things that needed to be said. But Sam kissed her eyes shut, the rough brush of his cheek soothing and homey.