Tempestuous Eden (6 page)

She had never felt more natural with a man, more comfortable, more secure. And still so excitingly stimulated. She loved being exactly where she was, harbored in his shoulder, leaning against his strength, idly talking, and inhaling his deliciously masculine scent. So drugging, so potent.

In time he stood and helped her up beside him. “I guess we’d better ‘walk beneath the stars’ back,” he said regretfully, his tone husky and slightly strained. He didn’t move the support of his arm, but he made no attempt to kiss her, and she was strangely disappointed. She was sure he had wanted to, and yet held back with that leashed control.

Blair nodded mutely.

The fire had died low when they returned, glowing only faintly in pale yellows and oranges. It was early; the rest of the crew had turned into their tents for the night.

Craig walked Blair to hers, pausing at the flap. His golden eyes seemed to bore into hers, more magnetic and compelling than any fire of heaven or earth. There were mixed emotions naked in them for a moment; the desire she admitted she desperately wanted to see, and that strain and regret she had earlier puzzled over in his voice.

She moistened her lips, unaware that her own yearning for something as yet unfulfilled was beautifully visible in her face. Craig felt that he really saw emeralds, shimmering like the sea, returning his gaze. Her hair was a rich wave of deep flame cascading down her back as she tilted her head to his; her lips were moist, pink, slightly parted, and enchantingly inviting.

A groan rose from the core of his body, sending shudders through him. The sound came out as a rasp of desire. Damn, he thought again, he wasn’t a machine … a goddamned computer.

His lips fell hungrily to hers. They were fierce, they were tender, they demanded, they conquered. His tongue deeply invaded the mouth that parted sweetly to his assault, grazed over pearl white teeth. He inhaled her clean, fragrant scent, inducing him as nothing ever had before.

It was the first time in his life he had lost control in any way.

But he had lost it. Her lips were clinging moistly to his. They had been tentative at first, not offended, but shy. Now her mouth was like a flower, intoxicated by the full bloom brought by the sun. As if she had been a sheltered maiden, she seemed to take, and learn, and then give with a beauty that saturated his senses. His arms held her, and she was so soft, so pliant, so wonderfully, wonderfully feminine, warm, and receptive.

A moan tremored in Blair’s throat. She wasn’t aware that she issued the sound; she was barely aware of anything, barely conscious.

His touch was everything she had imagined and more. The sensations he sent through her with his sensuously demanding mouth were driving her blissfully mad. Her body quivered against his hardness, her limbs turned to mercury. He gave her the proof of her womanhood with each parry of his tongue, each stroke of his hands, thrilling her to a wild, reckless abandon. Belatedly she realized that what she had needed all along was the right man, and that her emotions had been touched as well as her flesh.

His fingers tangled into her hair, their touch strong and possessing. She wanted to stay where she was forever. His heat was permeating her body, seeming to fuse it to his own as his heady kiss burned her as no fire ever could.

Too late, too late she realized she had offered the kiss, and taken, taken so thirstily and wondrously all the raw and masculine enticement he had to give.

But having given away a piece of her heart in return, she could deny him nothing….

His lips pulled away, but he drew her closely to him, holding her as they regained their breaths and the beating of their hearts slowly subsided.

He was in control again. His mind had harnessed the desires of his body, but his body was busy viciously hating his mind.

Hell, he was definitely quitting after this one.

Blair slowly surfaced back to her senses as he held her. He
was
an unusual man, she decided wryly, because he could have had whatever he wished. Or did he sense her fear beneath the boiling excitement he created in her blood?

His arms released her as his hands gently cupped her chin.

“Good night, Blair,” he said softly.

And turning, stuffed his hands into his pockets, clamped into fists of frustration as he walked past the dying fire toward his own tent, across from and almost separated from the compound.

Blair watched him go with a catch in her throat, foolishly accepting the fact that she was falling a little in love with this man, who by his own admission had no room in his life for involvement.

But it was so wonderful to feel. Even wonderful to love when that love could bring only pain.

He had probably left her, knowing that he could offer her nothing permanent. She was sure, innately sure, that he had wanted her as desperately as she had wanted him.

Still she wanted him, even for a night, even for an hour.

Even though she still didn’t trust him as far as she could spit nails.

Shaking, quivering, trembling, Blair ducked into her tent. Her hands remained unsteady as she undressed and slipped into a long cotton gown. She could still hear the erratic pounding of her heart as she lay in her bunk, staring at her green canvas ceiling.

Craig had a way of beguiling her into trust. He was with the Hunger Crew now; she would be seeing him day in and day out.

She wanted him, yes. But what scared her, what kept her trembling in the night, was the very real possibility that she just might get him.

Craig Taylor returned to his tent, but whereas he should have been catching a few hours of sleep, he, like Blair, stared unseeing up at green canvas.

He had never wanted a woman more in his life, and he was painfully aware that this time the wanting went far beyond the instant chemical attraction.

Chemical … it was electrifying.

A force like nothing he had ever come across.

But that force was part of it, too, being beguiled, bewitched … whatever. It was the sea depth of her eyes, the silky softness of her voice, her casual pride, devotion, caring, intelligence …

Whoa now,
he warned himself, aware that he was shaking in the cool night breeze. Five days had passed. Five lousy days. How was he going to handle the time to come when in a night …

No amount of training could have spared him the misery he felt that night, all the more devastating because it was the first time he had ever been caught in such a spell.

A spell he refused to put a name to.

The hours passed. And the appointed time came. Like a wraith, as sleek and silent as a cat in the night, Craig left the compound. He was neither seen nor heard as he moved through the jungle.

He reached a clearing. It was midnight. It appeared as if heat lightning streaked the foliage …. But it wasn’t lightning. It was a code Craig flashed more quickly than most eyes could see by powerful beams from clearing to hilltop.

HAVE ARRIVED … STOP … LOOKS GOOD … STOP

The reply was instant.

HOLD POSITION UNTIL ALERTED … STOP.

The jungle cat returned in the night, unseen.

B
LAIR EXPERIENCED AN UNSETTLING
twinge of panic with the coming of the morning. With the often painful wisdom of hindsight, she was acutely aware of her own behavior.

Granted, there was something between them. And granted, the feeling was wonderful.

But she had all but thrown herself into his arms. It would have been impossible for him not to realize that he had held her easily in the palm of his hand. He had been the one to control, the one to practice restraint. What was he thinking of her? she wondered. The thought of facing him in the light of day suddenly drained her of all color. And yet the thought of seeing him again was also the burning focus of her day.

She cocked an eyebrow at herself in the mirror that was a tiny square cast at a slant beside her cot. “Really, Blair,” she asked herself wryly, “just what do you want?”

The answer was still beyond her reach, and she shook her head disgustedly. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? I have to get moving one way or another!”

But it was something to suddenly find oneself devastatingly attracted to a man one still didn’t trust.

Facing Craig proved to be easy. He was the first person she saw that morning. Shirtless—bare bronzed muscles worked within a torso that certainly wouldn’t allow for an inch to be pinched—he was attempting to shave just outside his tent. His mirror, the regulation size of Blair’s, rested precariously in the indentation of a pole set up for just such a purpose.

His smile, beneath patches of lather, was instant as he saw her. Instant and warmly sincere. The simple gesture seemed to speak volumes, saying all the right things. Yes, there was something between them. His expression was not one of denial, but rather of acceptance. His golden gaze seemed to sweep away the morning chill.

She didn’t feel awkward at all.

“Good morning,” he told her with a grimace. Indicating lightly with the hand that held the razor, he continued. “I used to be good at this. My hands seem a bit shaky this morning.”

Blair chuckled softly. “You don’t look like the shaky type.”

“I’m not,” he agreed. “Not usually.”

It was going to be nice, Blair suddenly realized. Perhaps he sensed her reservations, or maybe he was just as confused by the feeling as she. But he had never really drawn away from her; he had just held back. A few words honestly spoken without awkwardness or embarrassment, a simple look that passed between them and she suddenly seemed to have answers. Both wanting, they would take a little time. An easy road to discovery.

Replying to his honesty, Blair murmured, “I’d offer to help, but I’d probably do more damage than good. I’m a bit shaky myself.”

He laughed; they looked at each other a moment longer. Blair felt as if his mere glance was a caress.

“I guess we’re the first up,” she murmured. “I’ll go get the coffee started.”

Craig grinned. “I beat you to it—it should be perked by now. Bring me a cup, will you?”

“Sure.” Blair grinned back and turned for the mess tent. It was amazing what he could do to her, she thought, lips twisting with her inner dreams.

She had always enjoyed her work with the Hunger Crew—the camaraderie of her coworkers, the interplay with different peoples, the sense of self-value she had been able to achieve. But it had taken till now, and the coming of Craig Taylor, to make her realize that not even her work had been able to give her back an important aspect of her being that she had lost with Ray Teile’s death. She realized it now, because suddenly she had regained what she had lost—a spark of enthusiasm with which to greet the day and each little task. This morning she could see the crispness in the air, smell the delicious aroma of the brewing coffee, hear each tiny little sound that was a part of the jungle life, part of the compound life.

Her senses had opened to a new dimension of joy.

“Well, Mr. Taylor,” she murmured to herself as she poured two cups of coffee, “I still don’t trust you …” A flash vision of him standing before his mirror—taut waist narrowing with intriguing precision to the waistband of the jeans that hugged the powerfully muscled thighs—filled her eyes even as she closed them. “But I’m glad of your being.”

She brought him his coffee.

That morning Craig seemed to have set a pace for the days that followed. He had no qualms about spending the majority of their free time together, and yet he continued to hold back.

The relationship was a comfortable one. The intense nervousness Blair had been feeling began to dissipate as she realized surely that he wasn’t going to demand anything she wasn’t entirely ready to give. And in that aspect he perhaps knew her better than she knew herself.

She was afraid. She felt it inevitable that they would eventually come together in a sheer explosion of physical senses, and though she accepted, no, yearned for, that inevitability, the growing relationship between them was taking away the raw edges of that fear.

He is seducing my trust,
she thought wryly one day. It was still there, that thought in the back of her mind that something just wasn’t right, the pieces just didn’t fit. But her sharp, intuitive suspicions dulled as she watched him work daily, a never-tiring powerhouse of energy. It was impossible to believe that he was less than sincere in any of his efforts.

The children of the village at first had seemed to share her awe and nervous fear of this golden-giant of a man, yet they now flocked around him. He didn’t return their apparent affection with emotional or physical displays, but with a quiet concern, occasionally whittling little toys for them before sending them on their way. His word, Blair noted quickly, however, was law. He never spoke without being instantly obeyed.

She was meditatively watching him late one afternoon two weeks after his arrival, from the shelter of the med tent when Dr. Hardy came upon her, startling her with a chuckled demand.

“Are you still spying on that man?” he queried bluntly. His bushy brows were raised with teasing affection. “I would have thought myself that things were kind of fine between the two of you, I haven’t seen a night pass yet that the two of you weren’t deep in some kind of conversation!”

Blair flushed slightly. “I’m not spying on him, Tom. I’m just watching him.”

“Constantly,” the doctor remarked shrewdly. He chuckled again. “But I guess that’s only fair; he constantly watches you.”

“He does?” Blair was startled. She hadn’t realized that Craig was returning her surreptitious scrutinies.

He acknowledged her query with a broad grin. “I told you from the beginning that he was attracted, and I’m sure you know it as well as I by now. And if I’m not mistaken, I’m sure as hell willing to bet his feelings are reciprocated.”

Blair didn’t protest his statement, but she frowned. “But why does he watch me?” she wondered aloud. Her eyes met the doctor’s squarely. “Doesn’t that seem a little suspicious to you?”

“Oh, Blair!” he chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to fathom the secret life of Taylor! No, it isn’t suspicious that he watches you. He’s a healthy man. I’d say it was only normal. And why would I think it suspicious that he watches you any more than I would think it suspicious that
you
are always watching him?”