by Lori Wilde
The war in Limbasa had just been an excuse. He realized that now. A place for him to take refuge. Imagine, hiding in a war-torn country.
He had convinced himself his motives were altruistic, that he’d gone to help out an old friend in his adopted country and in part that was true. But there was another reason. A reason he had not acknowledged until this very moment.
He’d been hiding from himself, hiding from intimacy.
From sex. From love.
Was he ready to find himself again?
Callie held the key. She had offered her luscious body to him. Unselfishly willing to help him overcome his emotional hang-ups with her sweet cure of light, playful sex.
He wanted what she was offering. He wanted to move forward. He wanted to fully come home. He wanted to belong.
He’d been nursing his wounds for too long. It was time to let all that go. But how could he make love to Callie when he had been hired to guard her? It was his duty to keep her safe and he couldn’t keep her safe if his thoughts were constantly on sex.
And your mind isn’t on sex right now?
Good point.
“There,” he said. “It’s done.”
Then before she could turn and see exactly how much he wanted her, Luke got out of the tub, splashing water in his wake and made a beeline for the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him. He grabbed a change of clothes from the flight bag he’d carried in with him, scooted into the living room and firmly pulled that door closed, as well. He clenched his teeth, more conflicted than he’d been about anything in a very long time.
Desperately, he paced the floor, trying to get control of himself, trying to understand what was happening to him. But when his eyes closed, he saw her again, her beautiful body refracted a hundred times in the mirrored ceiling, the magnetic pull of Callie’s image. The longing inside him reined Luke up short. His body shuddered hard.
Inhaling deeply, he recalled the peachy feel of her soft hair beneath his rough fingers, the gut-churning womanly scent of her in his nostrils, the sight of those adorable chocolate-brown eyes narrowing to mere slits in a defiant challenge. He was in over his head with this one, but what a way to drown.
His cock ached. He gulped. This was his fault.
He relived the moments in the bathroom but this time, he acted different. He envisioned himself sliding all the way down into the bathtub with her, soaping her body while he tongued the sweet hollow of her throat. Her imaginary sounds of pleasure echoing softly in his brain.
Her fantasy touch caused his every nerve ending to unravel as he pictured her entwining her arms around his neck, her wet, funky-colored hair plastered to her face. That crooked little mouth tipped up in a sly grin, her head thrown back, exposing her vulnerable neck to the ravages of his mouth.
His imagination escalated the scene.
His erection was pulsating so damned hard he could barely breathe.
Stop this. Stop fantasizing about her.
But he couldn’t.
Luke knew that he had to do something or he was going to end up back in the bathtub with her for real. Letting out a long breath, he sank onto the couch.
Thinking of nothing except Callie, he palmed his penis. His rhythm was frantic, desperate, but he had to alleviate the stabbing need that had settled like a stone in his groin from the moment he’d laid eyes on the woman.
This wouldn’t take long and then he could have his brain back. Normal, rational, washed free from mind-clogging testosterone.
Clenching his teeth, he shuddered as hot ribbons of milky white ejaculate sprang up, and then spilled down over his fist.
And a single word escaped his lips.
“Callie.”
8
A GAME.
That’s what Luke needed. A game to learn how to have fun.
Three days and nights had passed since he’d climbed naked into the bathtub and colored her hair. Three days of remembering nothing except that glorious image and three nights of tingling and aching and longing for him as he stonily camped out on her bedroom floor. The numerous book signings blurred into each other. Molly Anne ran her all over L.A. from one event to the next with Luke forever in the background looking out for her.
Tomorrow, they’d be leaving for Santa Barbara, but tonight, she was determined to teach the man how to have fun.
And Callie had the most perfect game in mind. A chase. She would slip away again and see how long it took Luke to follow. Would he realize exactly how much she wanted him to catch her?
And punish her oh, so rightly.
She shivered as goose bumps dotted her arms. She didn’t fully understand this compulsion. Why she ached for him so. Why she wanted him. But the need was a hard knot growing inside her at an alarming rate.
She stared at herself in the mirror, still unaccustomed to her new hair color.
Pecan blond.
Her natural hue. How odd that Luke had so uncannily picked out the shade that was almost identical to the one she’d been born with.
She’d just taken a shower after returning from a book signing in Long Beach. Molly Anne had gone back to her own room and Luke was in the sitting area making phone calls. She blew her hair dry, styled it with her fingers then cocked her head to study the effect. The color softened her features and gave her a younger, more feminine look.
She felt calmer somehow. Less wild. She no longer looked like the Midnight Ryder. For a strange moment she felt as if she was staring at both a complete stranger and an old friend.
A very old friend whom she hadn’t seen in a very long time. It was the weirdest sensation.
She reached up to redirect the spikes, turning them into soft curls with a flick of the hairbrush. She worked for several minutes and when she was done she could not look away. There was a wistful quality in her eyes that hadn’t been there since she was sixteen.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
She stared at the mirror so long, she ended up tripping herself out. She jumped and fled the bathroom, knocking over the vanity chair in her flight to leave.
For no reason, she was panting, out of breath. Lost.
To counterbalance the dramatic change in her appearance and settle her nerves, Callie dug through her suitcase, seeking her most outrageous clothing in an attempt to get back a sense of herself. After dressing in a tight black leather skirt and skimpy striped silk blouse, she then spritzed herself with Sinful, donned lots of silver jewelry and applied an abundance of makeup.
And just to keep it really interesting, she locked the bathroom door from the inside, then returned to the bedroom.
Gingerly picking her way down the ivy-covered trellis in the deepening twilight, she dropped to the garden below. Stepping back and dusting off her palms, she glanced up at the room she’d just vacated.
The bedroom was dark and quiet. The light was on in the adjoining sitting room. She watched a moment, saw Luke’s shadow against the window shade when he moved.
Was he coming to check on her?
Her heart churned with crazy excitement. She checked her watch.
Ten past nine.
She waited a few minutes, the ocean breeze brushing softly against her skin, the salty smell filling her nose, stoking her desire. Callie began to tell herself a story.
She was a princess who had been imprisoned by her father, the king, with the best intentions of keeping her safe from marauders. The king had placed a fierce but chaste and loyal knight at her door to protect her while he was away on urgent matters. But the poor princess was bored and sad and lonely. She wanted to have fun. So she disguised herself as a peasant girl and went off to the local tavern to find a lover.
Callie slipped through the darkness, a medieval princess, her breath in her throat, thrilled yet terrified with her new adventure. How long before the knight discovered her gone and came after her?
The handsome, honorable knight.
When he found her, would he roughly drag her back and lock her in her tower once
more? Would he listen to her pleas when she begged for her freedom? Would he grant her wish if she offered him the most special reward of her nubile young body?
Callie’s stomach muscles tightened. She rounded the corner of the resort hotel and strolled across the cobblestone sidewalk. Was it her imagination or did she hear footfalls behind her?
She paused.
The footsteps stopped.
Luke!
He was coming for her.
She grinned as her pulse rate quickened. Sucking in her breath, hot with anticipation, she hurried off deeper into the night.
“CALLIE?” Luke knocked on the bedroom door. “I’m going to order dinner from room service. What would you like to eat?”
When she didn’t answer, he almost didn’t knock a second time. He didn’t want to awaken her if she had dozed off. But instinct was gnawing at the scruff of his neck. He’d been hired to watch over her and that’s what he was going to do.
He placed a hand on the doorknob.
What if she was in there naked, propped up in bed, just waiting for him?
He gulped.
Don’t be a coward. You have to check up on her. It’s been days now, resisting her should be easier.
Steeling himself, Luke opened the door.
All the lights were out. He blinked, and then after his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his gaze immediately flew to the circular bed.
She wasn’t draped there in a femme fatale pose.
He felt both relieved and nervous. She couldn’t still be in the bathroom. There was no light under the door. Unless she was in there with candles lit.
“Callie?”
No answer. Not a sound. He’d never known the woman to be so quiet.
Bracing himself for the likely event that she was stark naked in the bathtub doing to herself what he’d been doing to himself the first day here, Luke rapped on the bathroom door with his knuckles.
“Callie? You all right?”
Not a peep.
He jiggled the handle. Locked.
Luke swore under his breath.
What damned game was she playing?
And he knew it was a game. For the woman loved to tease. She wore sensuality like a tight, low-cut sweater. In your face and unapologetic. Even as he admired her ability to embrace her sexuality, he wished she would give it a rest. He was unaccustomed to so much lustiness.
Hesitation had him fisting his hands at his side. “Callie,” he called again. “Answer me or I will have to kick the door in.”
Which was probably what she was angling for in the first place.
Drama. Action. Excitement.
“Callie!”
His guardian instincts shouldered past his irritation. What if she had slipped in the shower and hit her head?
Luke cocked back his foot, ready to slam his body full force into the doorframe when he caught the movement of something white and fluttery in the darkened recesses of the mirrored ceiling overhead.
The curtains were billowing from the breeze at the open French doors. He was certain that he had closed and locked those doors behind him when he’d checked the suite out earlier upon their return.
Pivoting, he hurried toward the balcony and peered down. The ivy along the trellis was bruised. Someone had just climbed it and there was no question in his mind who that someone was.
Swearing the way only an angry ex-military man could, he tore from the hotel room. He didn’t bother with the elevator but plunged down the stairs and tumbled through the emergency exit into the garden.
“Callie,” he shouted.
A young couple was taking a stroll on the grounds. They stood and stared at him.
“I’m looking for my fiancé,” he said, wearing the lie uncomfortably. “Did you see a woman climb down that trellis?” He waved at the trellis in question. “We, um, had a disagreement.”
“Running away from you?” the guy asked.
The woman poked her companion in the ribs with her elbow and shook her head. “No, but there was a man leaving the garden just as we came in.”
The blood in Luke’s veins turned to ice. Don’t panic. A lot of people walk in this garden.
“Where was he at?” Luke asked, trying to act unconcerned.
“Over by that date palm,” the guy replied.
Luke thanked the couple and forced himself to saunter casually over to the palm tree they had indicated as if he hadn’t a worry in the world.
When he reached the spot, several things became immediately clear. This area had an unrestricted view of Callie’s bedroom and there were four cigarette butts crushed out on the ground.
And embedded in the earth damp from ocean spray, was the imprint of a man’s shoes.
Someone had been out here for quite some time. Watching.
CALLIE SAT IN A DIM CORNER of Madigan’s bar sipping an apple martini and listening to the band on stage.
She was revved up. Anxious.
Already, she’d been approached by three different men looking for companionship and she’d shot them down gently, telling them she was waiting for her fiancé.
One dude made a rude comment about the way she was dressed but the other two took her rejection in stride and moved on.
She glanced at her watch. Almost half an hour had passed since she’d shimmied down the trellis. What was taking Luke so long?
He was very conscientious about his job. He had to check on her soon. And when he found her gone, he would quickly figure out what she was up to.
The heavy wooden door creaked open and the stalwart knight stalked over the threshold. Sir Galahad.
Clearly, he was a warrior on the hunt for dragons to slay. From her position at a corner table she could see him, but he could not yet see her.
Her gaze traveled over his tall, imposing frame, took in his broad shoulders, the commanding expression on his ruggedly masculine face. He was a man you dared not toy with.
And yet, she had dared. Setting this illicit game in motion.
Would he pick up the gauntlet? Would he play?
His features were Nordic, but his coloring was not. High cheekbones, proud nose, black hair, even blacker eyes. He was an odd combination of light and dark. North and south. He was a paradox. World-weary, yet inexperienced all at the same time.
He made her pulse strum with the most frantic rhythm.
But what most commanded her attention, besides his strong presence, was his mouth. Sensuously full lips.
Infinitely kissable.
He wore his warrior costume. Black T-shirt, green camouflage pants, combat boots. His biceps were so big they strained against the seams of his T-shirt.
Ah. Here he was then. Her knight.
When had she started thinking of him so possessively?
He moved into the bar, turning his head from side to side, searching for her. She felt a little thrill of fear. Not from him, but from her rampant fantasies. She tensed, clenching the edge of the table with her fingers, waiting for him to spot her.
His black-eyed gaze met hers.
Callie was totally unprepared for her body’s explosive reaction. He raked his eyes over her, making her feel as if she was not wearing a single stitch of clothing. She trembled as violently as if he had just cupped her bare breasts in the palms of his rough hands.
He came toward her.
All the other sounds in the bar disappeared. She heard only his boots treading across the wooden floor.
The heavy noise matched the rhythm of the blood pushing through her veins, thick with lust.
His eyes were ablaze with anger and yet at the same time, he looked relieved to find her. That was when she realized the anger had actually been fear. He’d thought the stalker had gotten her.
She felt contrite for worrying him but not contrite enough to back off the game. She held his gaze and they were joined as surely as if he had just slid his hard angular body into her soft round one.
The princess and the knight.
A sweet fantasy
come alive.
Several people moved between them, heading for the dance floor but Luke was taller than all of them. His head towered high above the throng and he never once lost eye contact with her.
Callie sucked in a breath as she imagined his eager hands slipping up under her skirt, caressing her hot bare thighs. Did he have any idea what wickedness was on her mind?
The knight was upon her now. Dragging out the chair opposite from her, he sat down without being invited. That was the way of the warrior. Warriors took what they wanted.
Did he want her the way she wanted him?
He said nothing.
Neither did she.
The band played on.
They continued to stare into each other’s eyes. Callie’s daydreams ran wild as she imagined his hand not stopping at her thigh, but creeping higher in the darkness, eventually finding its way to the warm soft cleft between her legs.
She squirmed.
Her nipples hardened against the fantasy. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the nubs strained against the luxurious silk of her low-neck blouse.
She imagined his masculine mouth covering hers the way it had in the airport. His tongue dueling with hers until she was left too breathless to even beg him for sweet release.
Callie made a whimpering sound at the back of her throat and shook her head to rid it of her reverie. But it would not go. The vision clung to her brain, sticky as a spider’s web.
In reality, Luke simply sat there with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her, waiting for a response.
But in her mind…he was kissing her the way she’d always longed to be kissed.
He took her lip between his teeth and nipped it lightly. Punishing her playfully for running away from him a second time since she’d known him. He dragged his mouth down over her chin, kissing the column of her neck until he reached the fluttering pulse at the hollow of her throat, and then slowly flicking his tongue back and forth.
Lower he went. Lower, and then lower still. Back and forth. Tongue licking, tasting, teasing.
She pretended that right there in the bar, he was ripping open her blouse with his teeth, buttons popping everywhere.