Desert Rain with Bonus Material

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Unconsciously she moved against him, fitting herself to his powerful body until there was nothing between them but clothes and the words he hadn’t let her speak.

  “You’re more than beautiful enough for me,” Linc said against Holly’s lips.

  “But—”

  “No,” he said, filling her mouth again, making it impossible for her to speak. “No more arguments about beauty and women.”

  “But—”

  “We should know each other better before we argue,” Linc interrupted again.

  “How about discussing it?” she muttered.

  “I’ve just found you. Let’s not do anything to spoil it.”

  When Holly didn’t answer, Linc nipped her lips lightly.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “But—”

  His mouth closed over hers, stilling her words and drawing out her breath in a single powerful kiss.

  “Promise me,” he said finally, urgently. “Having you back is a dream come true. Just a few days. Just a few days and then we can rant and rave and slang at each other like old marrieds.”

  Unhappily Holly looked at Linc.

  His eyes laughed down at hers.

  “I’m not a fool,” Linc said dryly. “I know we’ll fight. You always were a stubborn wench. But just for a few days . . . ?”

  “How many?”

  A rueful smile spread beneath his mustache.

  “Like I said, a stubborn wench,” Linc muttered.

  Holly waited silently.

  Stubbornly.

  “Two?” Linc asked. “That will get us past the Arabian Nights party at the ranch. Then if you want to go fifty rounds, so be it.”

  She wavered, tempted. Then she shook her head.

  “You’d be furious at me when you found out,” she said.

  “Found out?”

  Linc stiffened. His fingers dug almost painfully into her arms.

  “Found out what?” he asked harshly. “Are you married?”

  Too shocked to answer, Holly simply stared at Linc.

  “Are you?” he demanded.

  “Do you think I’d have touched you if I was married?” she shot back.

  “Other women have,” he said dryly.

  “Not this one.” Then Holly added in biting tones, “Aren’t you going to ask about fiancés, boyfriends, and lovers?”

  Linc’s face changed, becoming a mask once more.

  “Are there many?” he asked neutrally.

  “Not a single one!” Holly exploded, words tumbling out of her recklessly in her anger. “In fact, I’m a—”

  Abruptly she got control of her temper and her tongue. She looked away from Linc, embarrassed by what she had almost revealed.

  His expression shifted subtly, alive again.

  “You’re a what?” Linc coaxed.

  Holly’s chin lifted in a defiant gesture. She put her hands on her hips, unconsciously echoing the moment yesterday when she had faced Linc’s contempt as Shannon.

  “I’m not very experienced with men,” Holly said bluntly. “But that shouldn’t surprise you. As you pointed out, I’m so damned plain.”

  With that, she turned away from him and stalked back toward camp.

  He caught up in three long strides, put one arm across Holly’s back and the other beneath her knees, and lifted her across his chest.

  She gave him a cool, shuttered look.

  “Like I said,” Linc muttered, “we should declare a truce for two days while we get to know each other. Then we’ll get engaged.”

  Holly’s breath caught.

  The look on her face made Linc’s pulse kick hard.

  “Three days after that,” he said huskily, “we’ll get married. And then the word ‘no’ will vanish from my vocabulary.”

  Tears of joy and hope and something very near pain burned behind Holly’s eyes. She wanted to say yes instantly, to bind him to her before he found out about her alter ego, Shannon.

  The thought of Linc’s contempt for beautiful models frightened Holly.

  Linc’s saw neither the tears nor her fear.

  His lips were moving over her throat, her hairline, her ear.

  “Holly,” he breathed into her ear. “Is my request for a two-day truce so unreasonable? Surely you can keep your temper that long?”

  “But—”

  “Damn it, woman,” Linc interrupted, “what does it take to convince you?”

  “I just don’t want you to hate me later.”

  “I could never hate you, niná. Don’t you know that?”

  “Linc, you don’t know me. Not all of me.”

  He glanced upward in exasperation.

  “That’s the idea of the truce, remember?” Linc asked the sky. “We stop arguing about silly things and talk about rings and weddings and babies.”

  Holly trembled and hugged Linc hard. The kiss she gave him was almost desperate.

  “You do want babies, don’t you?” he asked finally.

  “I want your babies,” she whispered. “I always have.”

  Linc lifted his head and looked down to the golden-eyed woman in his arms.

  “Then please trust me,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll be very gentle with you. I’d given up hope of ever holding you and I’m afraid of losing you all over again before I even have a chance . . .”

  Linc couldn’t finish. He didn’t have the words to describe his yearning for the warmth and happiness that he once had felt with Holly. So instead of speaking, he simply kissed her with all the longing he had felt through the years they had been apart.

  Holly didn’t resist the kiss that stole her breath, replacing it with Linc’s, or the tongue that touched every part of her mouth in mute pleading.

  When he finally lifted his head, she sighed and smoothed her cheek against his warm neck.

  “Truce?” he asked huskily.

  “Truce.”

  “Good.”

  Linc set off toward the tent with a purposeful stride, still carrying Holly in his arms.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “The tent.”

  “The tent?”

  Linc looked down at Holly, surprised by the hint of nervousness in her voice.

  “I thought I’d put my clothes out to dry,” he said, smiling slightly.

  Holly tensed, but said nothing. Linc stopped walking.

  “You told me you haven’t had much experience with men,” he began.

  She nodded.

  “Are you a virgin?” Linc asked.

  “You make it sound like terminal acne.”

  “Are you or aren’t you?”

  “Does it matter?” Holly retorted. “This is the modern world, you know.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m asking. You look as innocent as an angel,” Linc said, “but you didn’t act like a virgin this morning.”

  “Sorry about that,” Holly said in clipped voice. “Chalk it up to false advertising. I’m as virgin as they come.”

  Linc stared at her angry face in frank surprise.

  “My God,” he said after a moment. “Don’t they have any men in New York?”

  “Crawling with them.”

  “Well?”

  She hesitated, then shrugged.

  “They weren’t you, Linc,” she said simply.

  Holly felt a tremor move through the man holding her. His lips brushed over her eyes, her mouth, her forehead.

  The kisses were so gentle Holly couldn’t stop the upwelling of emotion that transformed her eyelashes into black nets glimmering with captive tears.

  “I don’t deserve you,” Linc said huskily.

  Holly’s lips trembled into a smile.

  “You’re stuck with me,” she whispered.

  For a long moment he simply held her. His eyes closed as he let her words and her presence sink into him like water into dry land.

  Then he eased her down his body until her feet touched the ground once more. Slowly he released her.

  “I�
�ll get Sand Dancer,” Linc said. “You get properly dressed. The way that jacket keeps flopping open would test the self-restraint of a saint, and God knows I’m not one of them.”

  “Aren’t we going to—to—dry your clothes?”

  Holly sensed a flush creeping up her face and wanted to curse. She felt like she should be digging a bare toe in the dirt, chewing on the end of her braid and saying brilliant things like “Aw, shucks.”

  Linc had a way of cutting through the sophisticated shell she had built around herself that was as maddening as it was . . . reassuring.

  Slowly Linc’s thumb traced the high, slanting line of Holly’s cheekbone and smoothed the silky arch of her eyebrow.

  “Get dressed, niná,” he whispered, “before my good intentions go up in flames.”

  Holly studied Linc for the space of several breaths.

  “Just because I’m a virgin?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a curable condition,” she pointed out reasonably.

  “No arguments, remember?”

  Her eyes darkened even as they narrowed.

  “I wouldn’t dream of arguing with you,” she said sweetly. “We’ll discuss it over breakfast.”

  Giving Linc her best Shannon smile, Holly turned and walked back to the tent, letting her hips swing just that extra bit every step of the way.

  Eight

  The interior of the tent was warm. It was filled with golden light that seeped through tiny pores in the canvas.

  It was also a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere. So were other things. The duffel had been all but emptied out in Holly’s earlier frantic search for aspirin.

  But when she looked around the tent, all she really saw was memories of Linc. Heat zigzagged from her breastbone to her knees as she relived the instant the sleeping bag had fallen away from his lean hips.

  She had stared at him. She had liked every bit of him that she had seen.

  And she had seen it all.

  Even worse, she had wanted to go back to him, to kneel by his side, to run her hands all over his sleek body . . .

  Is that why Linc said I didn’t react like a virgin? she wondered silently.

  What does he expect a virgin to do when she sees the man she loves naked? Scream? Faint?

  With a wry twist to her full lips, Holly unzipped her pants and kicked them aside. She wore nothing underneath the jeans because she had been too cold to worry about underwear last night.

  I wonder what Linc would have done if he had discovered that? she asked herself. Screamed and fainted?

  Softly she laughed aloud at the thought of anything making Linc scream or faint.

  Laughter faded as Holly tried to undress. The jacket zipper was as stubborn as ever. She peered down at it.

  A single look told her that the zipper was hopelessly off track. With a shrug, she slipped the jacket down over her hips and stuffed it into the bottom of the duffel.

  For a few moments she stood naked in the warm tent, remembering how Linc had looked in the light pouring through the open canvas flap.

  Would he think I was as beautiful naked as I thought he was?

  The memory of Linc’s very male body caused a stirring in Holly that was becoming familiar. Fine wires of sensation tightened, teasing her with their promise of pleasures she had not yet felt.

  And, according to Linc, I’m not going to feel.

  She muttered something that wasn’t a normal part of her vocabulary as she pulled underwear out of the duffel.

  The bra and matching briefs were made of indigo lace. Their blue-black color made Holly’s skin glow like dark honey, but she was in no temper to appreciate the sensual contrast between lace and skin.

  Impatiently she yanked on her jeans again. She buttoned the rumpled blue chambray blouse all the way up, which was how she usually wore it.

  Then, deliberately, she undid a few buttons. The result was just enough cloth to cover the indigo lace of her bra.

  Some of the time.

  If Linc wants a virgin, she thought, I’ll give him a virgin. On a blue chambray platter, hot and steaming, garnished with sage!

  The image made Holly smile, then laugh at herself. She fastened one more button, brushed her hair, braided it quickly, and put on her shoes.

  When she was finished dressing, she straightened the clutter inside the tent with the efficient motions of an experienced camper. On the way out, she grabbed a canteen and the firewood she had stored in the tent to keep the wood dry.

  Holly started a campfire inside a ring of stones as easily as she had made order out of the tent’s chaos. When the flames had eaten solidly into the wood, she balanced a metal grate on the stones.

  She filled a bright new coffee pot with water she had hauled last night from the springs. Then she set the coffee pot on the grate and watched it darken with the sooty caress of woodsmoke.

  After a moment she poured water into the mess kit’s biggest pot and put it next to the coffee on the grate. Finally she picked up the latrine shovel and set off into the brush.

  “The tent is ready when you are,” she called over her shoulder.

  Although she couldn’t see Linc, she knew he would be nearby, probably giving Sand Dancer a rough grooming with a handful of sage.

  Linc’s answering shout came from the direction of the springs, telling Holly she had guessed correctly.

  She returned to camp carrying an armload of wood balanced on top of the ice chest Linc had retrieved from the Jeep. One of the tarps Holly had packed kept the interior of the vehicle reasonably dry during the storm.

  A second trip to the Jeep took care of the rest of the camp equipment she needed. She dipped out enough water to wash her hands and went to work on breakfast.

  With quick motions she draped bacon in a small skillet and put it on the grate to cook. After adding a few more sticks to the fire, she turned away and hung wet clothes on the ropes that supported the tent.

  Soon the twin smells of coffee and bacon were tormenting Holly, making her stomach grumble insistently. She looped the last of her wet underwear over a rope and hurried back to the fire.

  While she was turning the bacon, Linc strode into camp. He carried a saddle over his right shoulder and a saddle blanket in his left hand. He flipped the blanket onto a tent rope to air out.

  The force of the blanket landing sent a piece of Holly’s wet underwear fluttering down like an exotic bird.

  Linc caught the bit of scarlet lace on his fingertip, smiled slowly, and looked over his shoulder at Holly.

  “Yours?” he asked.

  “Couldn’t be,” she said, turning the last piece of bacon. “I’m a virgin. Must be yours.”

  He laughed aloud, enjoying her quick mind.

  With unconscious hunger, Holly watched Linc slip the saddle off his shoulder onto a boulder. She loved the masculine play of muscle and tendon, the easy grace of his movements, his casual acceptance of his physical strength.

  “Bacon is burning,” Linc said without turning around, knowing that she was watching him.

  Holly gave the bacon a startled look. It wasn’t even crisp yet.

  “No, it isn’t,” she said.

  “Funny,” Linc said, hanging she’s lacy briefs over the tent rope with elaborate care, “I could have sworn I smelled something burning. Do virgins burn, niná?”

  His voice was low, as sensual as his fingers smoothing the scarlet lace of her bikini briefs.

  A liquid heat spread through Holly at the thought of being touched in the same way.

  When she looked away from Linc’s fingers, he was studying her, waiting for her answer.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Good,” Linc said softly. “But I’m going to wait until you’re as hungry as I am.”

  “One, two, three.” Holly snapped her fingers. “That’s it. I’m as hungry as you are.”

  She came to her feet in one graceful motion and started for the tent.

  Laughing, Linc vanished insi
de the tent before Holly reached it. He held the flap shut behind him.

  “Bacon’s burning,” he said.

  “I like it that way,” she retorted, tugging at the flap.

  As she wrestled unsuccessfully with the tent opening, bacon grease spattered noisily.

  She looked over her shoulder. Flames were licking over the edge of the frying pan.

  “Damn,” Holly muttered.

  She threw a last, frustrated look at the tent before she ran back to the fire and rescued the bacon from certain incineration. A few deft pokes with a stick knocked down the fire.

  After another look at the tent, Holly gave up and concentrated on breakfast instead of Linc. She opened a loaf of bread and put five slices to toast on the grate. The cooked bacon went into one of the two tin plates that had come with the mess kit. The coffee perked companionably, almost ready to drink.

  “How many eggs and what way?” she called without looking up.

  “Three. Over easy.”

  Linc’s voice was unexpectedly close.

  An instant later Holly sensed movement behind her. Linc’s long, masculine fingers traced the line of her chin and teased the curve of her ear.

  Turning, Holly rubbed her lips over his palm. Then she bit the pad of flesh at the base of his thumb with just enough force to be felt through the callus.

  Linc drew in a swift breath. When he spoke, his voice was as smoky as his eyes.

  “You keep that up,” he said, “and I’ll trip you and beat you to the ground.”

  “Promises, promises,” she retorted.

  Her tongue flicked out to the sensitive skin between Linc’s fingers, then moved more slowly.

  “Mmmm,” Holly said. “You taste better than bacon.”

  “Holly,” Linc said thickly, “you promised not to argue.”

  “Who’s arguing?”

  He took her hand and held it to his lips. His tongue retraced every pathway hers had taken.

  Her fingers were trembling when he released them.

  “The toast is burning,” Linc said.

  With a groan Holly turned back to the flames that seemed cooler than his touch.

  As she turned the bread with quick motions, she wondered what Linc had been doing in the tent. He was still wearing his wet jeans.

  She glanced quickly at the tent ropes. A pair of men’s briefs hung next to her bright bra.