Uneasily, she scanned the darkness as a low growl vibrated through Toto’s tiny body. Nothing was out there. No sound. No movement...strange.
Then a rustling, soft but insistent, from somewhere in the trees reached her ears. Her heart jumped, then accelerated. She stepped away from the sound, urging Toto to do the same. She didn’t know what it was, but she sure wasn’t about to investigate.
The rustling intensified. Then to her right, a loud roar exploded into the night. Screaming, she raced around a pine, dragging the dog along with her. Her leg tangled with the leash, and she flew forward, slamming into the dirt. Pain lashed up her spine, tearing another scream from her lips.
She stumbled to her feet, and limped forward. The Explorer came into view, but she didn’t see John.
“John! John! Where are you?”
She slammed into something hard. She grunted and grabbed onto a pair of shoulders. John’s shoulders. Her entire body shook with relief, and she would have slid to the ground—her legs having lost all function—if it wasn’t for his hands holding her up in a steadying grasp.
“Hey, calm down,” John urged.
“There’s something out there.”
“It’s probably an owl or mouse.”
Mashing her teeth together at his obvious skepticism, she grabbed his wrist and urged him to the Explorer. “It’s no mouse!”
Another roar erupted from the trees.
“Move!” John yelled.
She barely had enough time to pick up Toto, before John grabbed her arm and stuffed them in the Explorer. He climbed in after her. The dog scrambled in the back and burst into high-pierced barking.
She twisted around only to find her face squished against John’s upper torso. Suffocating, she pushed at his chest and dragged in a mouthful of air. “My leg. You’re on my leg!” She squirmed under him. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Get off.”
“Then can you kindly get your hand out from between my legs,” he grunted.
“Sorry! But if you don’t get—”
His hand clasped her breast, then fumbled past her shoulder to the backrest. Clarisse’s breath hissed into her lungs. He scrambled off her, hit his head on the ceiling with a loud ‘whack’, and dropped into the driver’s seat.
Ignoring the biting pressure in her knee, Clarisse watched a large shadow break away from the others. The shape lumbered into the light’s beam, transforming into a black bear.
Silence descended through the Explorer’s interior. Even the dog quieted. They watched the animal raise its head and sniff the air.
“What’s it doing?” She frowned in suspicion.
“Hell if I know.” Sardonic humor edged his words. “Probably looking for dinner.”
The animal brought its large muzzle down and waddled in their direction. It kept on coming. And coming. Jerking up, spine rigid, Clarisse fumbled along the control panel for the locking mechanism on the side of her door. Only when four clicks resounded in the interior of the vehicle, did she take a relieved breath.
“Do you really think a bear can open the door?”
She ignored the jibe. “Why don’t you start the car and back it out of here?”
“Not yet. I want to watch it a bit. I’ve never seen a bear in the wild.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Clarisse retorted sarcastically. “But I don’t like the way he’s smacking his lips.”
The animal disappeared along John’s side of the vehicle. “What’s it doing?”
“I think it’s begging.”
“Don’t you dare feed it!” She pulled herself up and peered over John’s window until the animal’s black hairy shoulders appeared.
He laughed. “I’m not that crazy. Being mauled isn’t something I’m planning on.”
The animal lumbered into view again, paused on the shoulder of the road, then plodded to a bush along the perimeter of the Explorer’s headlights. Its head disappeared into the leaves as it foraged for food. The bear came up empty, then disappeared into the shadows. An eerie silence settled around them.
With the bear’s departure, tension eased from her limbs while the pain in her leg intensified. “I need my purse.” She cursed when she couldn’t find it around her feet.
“Here.”
She frowned at the bag dangling from John’s fingers and snatched it from his grasp. She dove into its contents and found her pills. With shaking hands she opened the lid and shook out two. The pain. She bit down on her lower lip to check the whimper that threatened to escape.
She popped them in her mouth, grimacing as they scraped down her throat. Now all she had to do was wait. But each second felt like a minute, and a minute an hour.
“What are those?”
She should have known John would put his nose where it didn’t belong. “Nothing.”
“You’re not acting like they’re nothing.” He plucked the bottle from her grasp.
“Hey, give them to me.” She reached for them, but he dodged her every attempt.
Flipping the overhead light on, he read the prescription, and frowned. “These aren’t aspirin,” he remarked in surprise. “Far from it. They’d down an elephant. Why are you taking them?”
Her lips tightened. “It’s none of your business.”
“Your ankle’s still bothering you, isn’t it?”
Feeling John’s rapier gaze slide over her, Clarisse squirmed in her seat. “A little.”
“Okay, what’s going on? You don’t have a sprain, do you?” When she remained silent, he said, “Come on, Clarisse. I’m not a complete idiot. You’re in obvious pain. And you haven’t changed that much; I can still tell when you’re hiding something.”
Nerves jangled crazily in her stomach.
“Clarisse. You’re taking codeine. You don’t take something like that if you’ve had a sprain. At least not when it’s been over a week.”
“I had knee surgery last month.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. She heard the concern in his voice, but chose to ignore it. “I shattered my knee cap,” she said finally. It was the truth.
“How did you do that?” He sounded shocked.
“I fell down a flight of stairs at my house.” The lie tasted bitter against her tongue. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
“No, but why didn’t you say that from the beginning, instead of you spraining your ankle? It seems damn odd.”
Clarisse thought hard and quick. “I knew Vivian didn’t appreciate having me along, and I just didn’t want to trouble either one of you.”
“I don’t see why you’d think a sprained ankle would be any different than a broken knee cap.”
He had a point. This lying business was turning more difficult than she had anticipated. “I guess no one thinks much of a sprain, and I wanted to cause the least commotion. I guess it was pretty lame of me.”
“Hmmm.”
Clarisse inwardly sighed.
“You know, I still don’t think—”
“How about we get out of here? It’s getting late.” The man wouldn’t leave it alone. Her nerves were shot. Her mind was getting all woolly inside, and she couldn’t think because the pills were beginning to work. And she didn’t know if she could stomach another lie.
“I know it’s getting late, but—”
Suddenly, the dog broke into vicious barking. They jumped and looked around. Then Clarisse saw the reason. The bear had re-appeared into the headlight’s outer edges.
“You’re right. We better get out of here.”
The tension seeped slowly from her shoulders, and she relaxed against the backrest. What a relief. The dog might be turning into a better chaperone than Vivian.
CHAPTER TEN
John maneuvered the Explorer back on the highway. Swiveling around, she glanced out the rear window. No sign of the bear. But of course, she admonished, the animal wasn’t about to go charging after them. She turned around.
Headlights flashed past intermediately. As the minutes ticked by and John remained si
lent, appearing to leave the subject of her leg for another time, Clarisse relaxed. The medication and soft hum of tires on asphalt calmed her yet further. She closed her eyes.
A hand cupped her shoulder and gently shook her until she opened her eyes. Blinking, she focused on John’s blunt features looming over her. Shadows clung beneath his cheekbones and brows, masking his expression. The rhythmic touch of his breath fanned her cheek. She blinked away the last fingers of sleep, then lowered her gaze to the full curve of his lips. If he lowered his head a mere inch or two, his sensual mouth would be touching her own. Disconcerted, she blinked again and mentally shook herself from the crazed thought. Yet, at the same time, when he eased away, she could not ignore her disappointment at his withdrawal.
She straightened from her slumped position and glanced outside to see a wooden building sprawled in the middle of a clearing. “Where are we?”
“On the outskirts of Flagstaff. I checked us into a hotel while you were asleep.”
Whispering Pines Lodge glowed in blue neon near the front entrance. Cupping the dog under one arm, she followed John across the parking lot. Dark, shapeless Ponderosa creaked and groaned from a wind scented with pine. Lights glowed through the windows, beckoning them with rustic charm. To Clarisse, the place looked far too intimate. A honeymoon couple’s dream getaway. Then again, maybe it was her wayward imagination or nervousness at being alone with John.
Her room turned out to be just as cozy, Clarisse decided with trepidation as she followed him inside. All country charm. She dropped the dog on the old-fashioned, wedding ring quilt draped across the bed. Light blue and white lace curtains framed the window. A matching white table stenciled with baby hearts stood in the corner with a vase of fresh cut flowers. Their aroma drifted to her. Lastly, to add to the romantic atmosphere, a miniature stone fireplace rested against the opposite wall from the bed. As for the bathroom, she didn’t want to check if it contained a tub big enough for two. And she didn’t dare ask John if this was the honeymoon suite for fear of his answer.
The romantic setting left her feeling oddly restless. It also made her aware of him as a man, and a sexually appealing one at that. She licked suddenly dry lips.
John dropped her luggage by the bed. At the sudden sound, she jumped.
“Are you all right? Your leg isn’t still bothering you?”
She shifted under John’s odd look and pulled her lips into a smile. “I’m fine.”
“Then, how about dinner? They’ve got a restaurant. I think a porterhouse steak sounds great right about now.”
“I thought you’d never ask. Just let me get Toto a bowl of water and his food.”
Once done, she hurriedly followed him from the room, but in the restaurant, her disquiet escalated. She peered over the top of her menu. Along with a single red rose, candlelight flickered atop each table, staining the white linen to liquid gold. But what really caught her eye were the people. Couples abounded—young, old, middle-aged. She didn’t see a single child.
Once the waiter left with their order, she gave in to her curiosity, leaned across the table and asked in a whisper, “Do you know what type of place this is?”
His lips twitched. “Why?”
Obviously he knew something she didn’t and found the situation amusing.
She shrugged, not wanting to appear paranoid. “I don’t know. It’s just—it’s just that there’s a lot of couples. Almost like we’re at some romantic resort,” she said the last in a rush.
“We are.” He chuckled. “Now don’t get upset. It wasn’t intentional. When I asked for two rooms, you should have seen the guy at the reception desk. He gave me the strangest look. It took me a while to figure it out. That is, until I found their pamphlet.”
She grinned. “And here I was beginning to wonder if it was my imagination.”
Just then their waiter came with their meal and placed a mouth-watering filet mignon before her. The steak’s aroma teased her nostrils, and her stomach growled in protest. Taking a bit, she savored the taste against her tongue.
“I’m glad to see that our brush with the bear didn’t affect your appetite,” John remarked.
The meat seemed to adhere to the roof of her mouth. That was twice now that he had mentioned her appetite. Great. He probably thought her fat.
He laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean it that way. You look great.” A devilish look crossed his features. “Remember that one time we had steak together?”
How could she forget? Their relationship changed that night, past the boundary of friendship and into something hot and smoldering, and very sexual. Carefully, she set down her fork with a trembling hand. “I seem to remember dumping a bowl of beans in your lap.”
She failed to mention that they had gone back to John’s house so he could change. Or that they had never made it to the theater that night. Instead, he showed her things in his bedroom that to this day made her shiver.
His gaze roamed lazily over her breasts and throat, and stilled on her parted mouth. “That’s right. Even back then, you knew how to get me all hot and bothered.”
The deep throb of his voice caressed her across the table, raising goose flesh along her spine, while the wicked gleam in his eyes sent her temperature soaring. Memories of tangled sheets, smooth skin and the expertise of his hands and mouth flooded her consciousness.
Oh, hell. She wanted him. But she had no intention of broadcasting the fact. Deliberately, she lightened her voice. “How was I to know the tablecloth caught on my belt? And you deserved it. Your mind wasn’t on food.”
“Can you blame me?” A sensual smile tugged the corners of his lips. “You had on this mini-skirt. I still remember it and how your legs looked. All long and beautifully tanned.”
And what would he think of her legs now? She wouldn’t chance finding out the answer. No. She wasn’t that stupid.
Viciously, she squashed her spiraling attraction. She needed to come back to earth. The candlelight and roses were getting to her. She wasn’t the same Clarisse as three years ago. She was older, wiser, and not some girl with silly dreams. She had learned life wasn’t perfect; she wasn’t perfect. “That was a long time ago.”
He must have sensed her withdrawal, for the warmth in his eyes faded. “Yes. Yes, it was.”
For Clarisse, the meal lost its appeal. It was a relief to escape the table and the cloying scent of roses and lit candles.
Silently, they walked to her room.
Conscious of John directly behind her, she fumbled with the key. She sighed in relief as the lock gave and she opened the door. Turning to say goodnight, she met his gaze. Her farewell died in her throat.
His eyes reminded her of the fathomless sea at dusk, rolling and churning with hidden depths. She could get lost, even drown in their undercurrent.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, but remained rooted to the floor.
“All right,” Clarisse whispered, swaying toward him.
His hands closed over her shoulders, their warmth seeping through the material of her blouse. “But first I’ve got to...”
Her lips parted beneath the tentative touch of his own. His tongue traced the soft fullness of her mouth, then slipped inside. He devoured her mouth, while his hands inched around her waist to massage the contours of her back. With his body, he nudged her backward and into her room. From a distance, Clarisse heard the door click shut but was too aroused to care. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she pressed closer. Desire raged through her, quickening her heart and heightening her senses.
Burying his head into her hair, he thrust his knee between her legs and arched her back against his arms. “You smell so good.” He groaned, nipping her ear playfully.
She whimpered and clung to the muscles and tendons of his shoulders. They rippled beneath her fingers. “I—”
He smothered her words in a kiss more demanding than the last. Pushing his leg deeper into the juncture of her thighs, he cupped her breast in one large
hand. Gasping for air, she clung even tighter as hunger, raw and painful, throbbed through her limbs.
It had been so long.
She felt a slight tug at her waist, and his fingers slipped into the waistband of her jeans and glided along the elastic of her panties. Cool air, a sharp contrast to John’s hot touch, penetrated her consciousness. A shiver raced across her bared skin. Suddenly, shockingly, she realized what she was doing.
In seconds, he would be sliding her pants down her hips and exposing her leg. She went rigid in his arms. She wasn’t prepared for his reaction. For the horror in his eyes and the pain it would cause.
She pushed at his chest. “No.”
Pulling back, John frowned, his hands tightening on her upper arms. Desire lingered in his eyes. “What do you mean, no?”
“I-I…” What could she say? She searched for the truth. “My leg—” She couldn’t go further.
“Is it still bothering you?”
“Yes.”
“It didn’t seem like it a second ago,” John retorted, a flush to his cheeks, suspicion warring with passion.
“Well, it is,” Clarisse snapped, angry at herself and the situation.
At the coldness in her voice, his gray eyes hardened. “You know, I don’t know what to make of you.”
She fumbled with her shirt. After a brief struggle, she tucked it in and buttoned her pants. “I can say the same about you. You shouldn’t be in here. Vivian wouldn’t like it.”
“But you liked it.” Lips curling, John rammed the tail of his shirt into his pants.
She opened her mouth to deny it, but closed it, knowing it would be a lie.
He shook his head. “Suddenly, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.”
She bristled. “Then that makes two of us. Why don’t you leave and give Vivian a call? No doubt, she’s waiting by the phone.”
She turned her back as the door snapped shut behind him. She was a fool! Why hadn’t she just walked into her room and closed the door on John? It would have been so much easier. But no, she had to complicate things by succumbing to her hormones.
The Long Road Home Page 12