by Kay Hooper
Dane glanced at his watch, mentally calculating. After four now: he had promised to play the final game with Kelly sometime around nine tonight. He wasn't particularly concerned about being late. The storm could serve as an excuse if he needed one. And Skye wouldn't expect to see him until he saw him. "Let's go for it," he told Jennifer.
She led the way, angling slightly away from the swamp and into the forest of mixed oak, elm and cypress trees. The footing beneath them gradually became more secure, though still damp. Thunder rumbled more insistently now, and in the trees above a sudden wind snatched at the leaves and branches.
The rain hit them when they were still more than twenty yards from a small structure that appeared little more sturdy than Kelly s shack, and by the time they pushed open the door and lurched inside they were both soaked.
Dane forced the door shut behind them, leaning into it because of the building gusts of wind, and when the door finally caught he turned to find Jennifer lighting a kerosene lamp. The room had been pitch dark due to wooden shutters fastened securely over the two windows.
"Welcome to Nama's home." she said somewhat breathlessly.
He looked around, surprised to find the place much more comfortable than he'd expected. There was a polished wooden table and two chairs in the single room, along with a narrow cot half hidden behind a startling and garish Chinese screen over five feet tall and at least that wide. Woven rugs dotted the wood floor, along with a thick, fluffy one before the hearth, and the fireplace was made of river rock, with a generous supply of cut wood and kindling stacked beside it. Shelves lined one wall, holding enigmatically labeled glass jars and cans of food, and a couple of cabinets hid whatever they contained. There as an old iron stove, cold and black, and bright orange curtains at both windows.
"Who's Nama?" Dane asked, conscious of both the damp and a surprising chill in the room.
"She's a Cajun witch-woman."
Dane stared at her. "You're kidding."
Jennifer solemnly returned his incredulous gaze. "Seriously. She's lived on the edge of the swamp for thirty years. Dad tried to relocate her half a dozen times, but finally gave up. Her presence here generally keeps poachers out of the swamp. The people around here believe the place is cursed. Kelly couldn't have picked a better spot to hide his press."
"7s the place cursed?"
"Depends on your point of view. Since everybody believes it and stays away – just what Nama wanted – then I suppose you could call it cursed."
"You've been here before," Dane noted.
"Sure. I told you I practically grew up in and around the swamp. Nama and I've been friends for years." Gravely, she added, "I even came to her when I was twelve to get a potion to make a boy fall in love with me."
"Did it work?"
"He carried my books for a semester after that. It didn't last, though. Love never does when you're twelve."
Abruptly conscious of how her blouse clung wetly to the rich curves beneath it, Dane cleared his throat and yanked his gaze away from her to the fireplace. "Would Nama mind if I built a fire? It's chilly in here."
"She wouldn't mind." Jennifer hesitated, then stepped out of her ruined sandals and headed toward the folding screen by the cot. "I'm going to get out of these wet clothes," she said steadily. "You should get out of yours, too."
Concentrating on building the fire, Dane fought the urge to agree with her. He reminded himself with all the force he could muster that Jennifer didn't know the truth of his life yet, didn't know that he was deeply committed to his masquerade. She didn't even know there was a masquerade, and he couldn't explain yet. Until he could ...
His white shirt stuck to him uncomfortably. He had left the hotel in such a hurry that he hadn't put on a jacket or tie, so both his shirt and undershirt had been soaked in the downpour. He didn't trust himself to remove even the top shirt, but he did take a moment to pull off his drenched shoes and socks, and set them to one side.
"Where is Nama now?" he managed to ask, feeding kindling into the flames his lighter had ignited.
"In Seattle with her sister," Jennifer called back easily. "She hates this place in the summer."
Dane glanced up as a rumble of thunder and accompanying gust of wind shook the structure. "I don't blame her. Are you sure her house can hold up under a storm?"
"Very sure. It's stood for thirty years, and weathered several hurricanes. We're safe enough."
He listened to the storm raging outside, hoping she was right. The fire was crackling loudly now. and he piled several of the cut logs over the kindling until it burned steadily. Then, restless, he rose to his feet and wandered over to look at the shelves, trying not to think of Jennifer taking her clothes off behind the flimsy screen on the other side of the small room.
"There should be at least a bottle of wine and some glasses in that cabinet to your right," she said.
Her voice was closer now, but he didn't turn to look at her. Instead, he opened the cabinet indicated, finding the wine and a number of delicate glasses.
"This is a very strange place," he muttered.
Jennifer half laughed, draping her clothes over the back of a chair to dry before moving to sink down on the thick rug in front of the hearth. She had wrapped the quilt from the cot around her, and felt more than a little vulnerable. "You mean because of the odd mixture of things?" she asked, keeping her voice light with an effort. "It's very like Nama, that mixture. Kerosene lamps and iron stoves, along with delicate glasses and bright colors."
"And love potions on the shelf," he said, having noticed a particular label.
"Maybe I should put some of that into your wine," she murmured. "It worked when I was twelve." She tried to laugh, but it didn't quite come off.
Dane turned toward her, holding the bottle and two glasses, and went still when he saw her. She seemed Impossibly fragile, wrapped in a colorful quilt, the firelight flickering over her bare shoulders and exquisite face. She was defenseless, a vulnerable curve to her lips, eyes shadowed. Her golden hair, drying in the heat of the fire, fell over her shoulders in burnished waves.
After a moment, Dane went over and sank down beside her on the rug, not quite touching her. He uncorked the wine bottle and poured ruby liquid into the two glasses. Setting the bottle aside, he handed her one glass and took the other himself. "Jenny, do you doubt that I love you?"
"No." But the glance she sent him was uncertain. She sipped her wine, adding, "I know this business with Kelly is more important right now – "
"No, it Isn't." He swore softly. "Not more important. It's just that you don't know the whole story, and until you do . . . "
"What?" She turned her head to look at him. "Are you so sure these answers of yours are going to make a difference, Dane? How could they?"
He was silent for a moment, then said roughly, "Could you live with a gambler, Jenny?"
"With you, yes," she answered simply.
He wanted to ask. Can you live with secrets? With lies and deceptions? Not between us – but all around us? Could you love me even in the face of that? But he couldn't ask; a promise kept him silent, and he had never broken a promise.
"Dane?"
"I don't want you to regret anything, honey, that's all." He kept his voice even.
She was incredulous. "How could I regret loving you?"
He set his glass aside, his hands lifting to frame her face. "I think I'd die if that happened," he said huskily, gazing into her shadowed blue eyes. "I think that's what I'm afraid of."
"It won't happen." She put her own glass aside blindly, both her hands lifting to his broad chest. Without even thinking about it, she began unbuttoning his damp shirt, her fingers nimble despite the tremors that shook them. "I love you, Dane. I could never regret it."
He was still for a moment, then bent his head and kissed her. Gently at first, his lips toyed with hers, seductive and not quite teasing. His tongue glided along the sensitive inner surface of her lips, and her cool mouth opened to him. heating u
nder the Increasing demand of his.
Jennifer felt his hands slip down to her bare shoulders, while her own coped with the remaining buttons of his shirt and tugged it free of his pants. She was lost in the taste of him, wine-sweet and drugging, caught by the heat emanating from his big, hard body and almost burning her. She was barely aware of the storm outside, of thunder and lightning and wind and the harsh rattle of rain on the tin roof.
She was aware only of him, and of the building fire trapped within them both.
She felt him shrug the unbuttoned shirt off and toss It aside, and his mouth lifted from hers so that he could peel the undershirt off over his head. Her hands touched his bare chest almost tentatively, her senses flaring at the erotic brush of hair, and she looked at him through dazed eyes, conscious of an almost primitive shock. Because he was invariably semiformally dressed, she was somehow surprised by the powerful, hair-roughened expanse of his chest.
His half-naked body made her mouth go dry, her throat tighten, and she could scarcely breathe. He was beautiful in a way she'd never known a man could be, In a way that tugged at everything female in her, making her acutely aware of her own body. The black hair covering his chest was almost a pelt, thick and soft beneath her fingers, and she could see his power now In the hard muscles padding his tanned shoulders and cording his forearms.
He could break her, she realized vaguely, her trembling fingers compulsively stroking over his chest, his ribs and hard, flat stomach. He had a kind of natural physical strength that few men could boast, the kind that would require a conscious effort to temper. No wonder he was so calm and almost lazy on the surface, she thought. He had to be so controlled, because if he ever allowed himself a physical outlet for strong emotions . . .
"Jenny?" he questioned huskily, unmoving, his hands holding her shoulders gently.
She lifted her gaze to the vivid sheen of his eyes, realizing that he had seen her instinctive shock. But her trust In him was complete, and after the first jolt she felt no fear of his strength, no wariness or uncertainty. Her arms wreathed his neck and she rose on her knees, her slender body pressing against him, only the quilt still encircling her separating them above the waist.
"I love you," she whispered against his lips.
Dane's arms wrapped around her, hard but gentle, holding her tightly against him. His mouth slanted across hers, deepening the contact between them, his tongue invading, possessing.
Jennifer felt herself being eased back onto the soft hearthrug, and an unconscious murmur of protest came throatily from her when his mouth lifted from hers. But then she opened her eyes and looked up at him, and what she saw in his face stole what little remaining breath she could claim. She had never seen such hunger in a man, such Intensity, his eyes were alive with it and fixed on her face as if nothing else in the world mattered.
His big hands went to the quilt and pulled it gently from around her, opening the covering as if she were some gift brightly wrapped in shining paper, a delicate thing to be treasured. A hoarse, raw sound escaped him when she lay naked beside him, the firelight flickering over her slender but richly curved body, and his hand shook a little as it slid up over her ribs to cup a full, aching breast.
"God, you're beautiful," he said in a rasping voice so low she Just barely heard it.
She gasped at the shock of pleasure as he touched her, and when the rough pad of his thumb brushed her tightening nipple she felt an explosion of heat inside her. She clutched his shoulders wildly, her senses spinning, only a fire of need inside her to fill the growing ache of emptiness. Then his mouth was on her, sliding hotly over her feverish skin, wringing a wordless cry from her when it captured her nipple. The swirling caress of his tongue sent waves of pleasure through her, and she could hardly bear to be still in the restless storm of her desire.
Jennifer had never realized her body was capable of such feelings. She was dizzy with the clash of pleasure and torment, and she would have asked why he was doing this to her if she could have found the breath for it. Dimly, she heard soft sounds, like the murmurs of a kitten, sounds that seemed to inflame him even more as his mouth became rougher, the hands stroking over her body more insistent.
It occurred to her only vaguely that the sounds were coming from her.
She could feel one of his hands moving along her thighs with a sure, enticing touch, until her legs parted for him, and her body arched in a helpless reaction when his fingers settled gently over the empty ache between them. She thought her entire body was pulsing, a quickening heartbeat of need, and his slow, steady caress was driving her out of her mind.
His mouth moved from one breast to the other, hungry, the touch maddening her until her nails bit into his shoulders and she writhed with a moan. Tension built Inside her, winding tighter and tighter, and her body belonged to someone else, not to her, because she couldn't control it.
"Dane ..." she managed shakily in a voice that almost wasn't there, certain that she was dying because feelings this intense could only demand death as their price. But she was unable to say more than his name, only a wild cry torn from her throat as the tension snapped violently and waves of mind-numbing pleasure swept over her.
In the stunned aftermath of that explosion, she lay limply trying to catch her breath, aware of his movement as he stripped the remainder of his clothing off and tossed it aside. Then his mouth and hands were on her once more, breathing on the embers of her passion until she was burning again, pulsing anew with a need that was even deeper and stronger than before.
The unfamiliar response of her body had blinded her before, but now she could sense and feel Dane's desire, and that awareness sent her own hunger soaring. His big, powerful body was shaking, his skin so hot it was as if a mortal fever raged inside him. And his eyes, his beautiful eyes, were luminous and fierce, intent on her face, her body.
Jennifer almost sobbed aloud when he finally rose above her, and she cradled his body eagerly, the smooth slide of his hard hips against her inner thighs a new and welcome caress. She felt a blunt pressure against her wet flesh, and then her body was yielding, accepting him with an ease that almost shocked her; it was as if she had been waiting for him, for this. The emptiness inside her was filling with him, with the heat and throbbing power of him, and she arched up instinctively to have more of him, all of him.
An inarticulate groan rasped from Dane's throat, and his face tightened in a spasm of intense pleasure. "Lord, Jenny," he whispered roughly, his hands tangling in her hair as he bore her back down into the quilt and rug, kissing her deeply.
She probed his shoulders and back compulsively, her mouth wild under his as he began moving inside her. What she had felt before was nothing compared to this, and she was totally unprepared for the shattering sensations of joining that were so starkly intimate she could only accept them with wonder and a madly escalating excitement.
Heat built inside her with every powerful thrust of his body, until she couldn't stand it any longer. He caught her wordless cry with his mouth, his ragged groan mingling with her softer whimper, burying himself within her as pleasure jolted through them both like shock waves.
* * *
He was a big man, and heavy, but Jennifer was conscious of no discomfort as her heart slowed, her breathing steadied. She slid her palms up over his back and shoulders, loving the feel of his damp bronze skin, the hard muscles that were relaxed now. His fingers were still threaded through her hair, moving caressingly against her scalp, and she wanted to arch her back like a cat in the warm, sleepy aftermath of pleasure.
Dane eased up onto his elbows and kissed her, a long, slow, deep kiss that seemed to brand her indelibly, and when he lifted his head again, his eyes were brilliant. "I love you. Jenny," he murmured, the words rumbling from deep inside him.
"I love you too," she told him huskily.
"You'd better." His mouth was curved in a smile that was faintly humorous and heart-stoppingly male. "You couldn't keep me away from you now with a loaded gun."<
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Jennifer, usually prickly where her independence was concerned, found herself thoroughly enjoying his possessiveness. Smiling unconsciously, she said, "Are you going to be a jealous lover?"
"Smile like that at another man and I will be." He laughed softly, a sound edged with a kind of surprise. "I can't seem to control my instincts where you're concerned."
"What Instincts are those?" she asked innocently.
"The ones born in the cave." His fingers tightened in her hair, lifting her head up for another of those deep, drugging kisses. In a rough voice, he muttered against her lips, "How can a woman so delicate and ladylike as you are make me feel like some half-tamed animal?"
"I don't know, but I love it." Her eyes gleamed up at him, the darkened sheen of them catching and reflecting the firelight. One of her hands glided up his spine, making the muscles of his back ripple in a strong response, and her smile widened as he caught his breath. "A lion in summer," she murmured throatily, "black-maned and beautiful. That's what you are, Dane. A cat . . . and a king." Her eyes began to close as she felt the stirring renewal of need, and her body instinctively held him more tightly.
Dane caught his breath again, his entire body reacting wildly to that hot inner caress, moving against her and inside her with a compulsion he wasn't about to fight. Only the sharp edge of his need for her had been blunted, and he lost himself now in the silken heat of her body.
* * *
They were both reluctant to return to other demands on them, but the storm outside died at last, like the fire in the hearth, and it was time for them to leave.
"It'll be dark within an hour," Jennifer said, standing in the open doorway, fully dressed. "Won't your partner be worried about you?"
Dane came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. "No," he replied. "He'll know I'm not in trouble."