by Lyssa Layne
From the bank, Mallory watched, holding her breath. Inch by inch, he moved away from her, toward the stranded vehicle. A gush of water rose above his waist, but he held his ground. She couldn’t see how he could keep his footing against the powerful surge, but somehow, even as the water reached his chest, he made it to the door and grabbed hold of the handle. She let her air out in a gasp. Thank God he was safely there. He tugged on the door, but couldn’t budge it, lodged against the tree. He banged his fist on the door, then cupped his hands to see through the window.
“Is anyone there?” Mallory yelled.
“No.” He gave a thumbs down signal. “I’m coming back across.”
Her body sagged. Thank God. Now if he would only make it safely back. She straightened and held the rope so tightly it burned into her palms. She lived each step through him. His search for solid footing, the shifting sand, the push and pull of the river. Her heart beat so hard she felt faint. But Mike needed her to be strong, so she concentrated on his safe return.
Less than two feet to go, just when he had almost reached the safety of the bank, he fell. His body lurched sideways into the water. Like he weighed no more than a piece of paper, he was carried along until he came to the end of the rope. The slack jerked tight, tearing through Mallory’s hands. His head went under, and for a long minute she didn’t think he was going to resurface.
“Mike! Oh, no! Where are you?” She dropped the lifeline and ran down the bank to where he disappeared and frantically searched the muddy water for him.
He bobbed to the top, coughing.
Grabbing up the rope, like a fisherman with the biggest catch of her career, she struggled to pull him in. Bracing her heels in the wet sand, she put all her strength into it. She wrapped the coils around her waist and put her weight into the life or death struggle. He paddled her direction, making progress by inches. The water fought them both, but by tiny increments, he came to the shore.
Finally at the bank, he grabbed hold of the rope and crawled out. He fell face down and choked, then spit out water. Mallory fell back on her rear, still holding the rope taut. Her legs shook so hard she didn’t think she could ever walk again. “Are you okay?”
He managed a nod. “Yeah.”
“Thank God. I thought you were a goner.” Forcing words out of her tight, raw throat was difficult.
“You and me both.” He coughed again.
After several deep breaths, her heartbeat began to slow. She moved to take the rope off him and saw he shook from head to toe. Helping him roll to his back, she untied the knot with numb fingers. “You’re freezing. You’ve got to get out of those wet clothes.”
“There’s swim trunks and a T-shirt in the back of the Durago,” he said through chattering teeth.
“Can you stand?” She put her hands under his arms and tried to help him up. He was too heavy. There was no budging him.
“Not for a minute.” His lips were turning blue.
“You’ve got to get in the car.” She used her meanest voice. One she used on students who didn’t turn in their papers on time. “Now, get up. I mean it, Mike.”
He smiled a little although it obviously pained him to do so. “Okay.”
With difficulty, he pushed to his knees. He coughed again, but didn’t spit up any more liquid. She took that as a good sign. Bending, she put one arm around her neck. It weighed on her like an oxen’s yoke. She didn’t care. Somehow she had to get him inside the car and into heat before hypothermia set in. She tugged, he lunged. Together, they got him on his feet.
He swayed and she wrapped her arms around him to steady him. “No, you don’t.”
Taking careful baby steps, she guided him to the back of the SUV. He sat on the tailgate with a thud. “I feel awful.”
“No wonder. You swallowed half of Arizona’s water,” she said. “We’ve got to get you dry before you catch pneumonia.”
Tremors shook him.
Mallory climbed in the back of the Durango and rummaged around until she found a gym bag and a rolled-up sleeping bag. She carried the items to the tailgate and stepped out. “I found the dry clothes. Can you get in them, or do you need my help?”
“I can manage.” His hands shook.
She wasn’t so sure. “I’ll step around to the other side of the car while you dress.”
He nodded.
Still not certain he was going to be able to get out of his wet things, she moved away. The rain clouds, drifting away, gathered for another round. She shivered. If she was cold, she couldn’t imagine how Mike felt. “You dressed?”
“Almost.”
She went around to the other side of the SUV. Mike had managed to get to his wet things off, but not the dry clothes on. With his back to her, he stood in all his naked male glory. Wide shoulders, slim hips, long muscled legs. And an ass to die for. She swallowed. Hard. “Let me help.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Please.”
Keeping her eyes firmly on his face, she tugged the T-shirt over his head and helped him lift his arms into the sleeveless tank. It fell below his hips, covering his genitals and relief and regret fought within her. She knelt and lifted his icy, big man foot through the swim trunks. Then the other. Standing, she pulled the trunks up his frozen legs, thighs and over his hips. A smile tugged at her mouth. She hadn’t ever pulled a man’s shorts this direction.
Her face felt flushed but he didn’t look any warmer. “Come on. Get in front and I’ll turn on the heater.”
He climbed in the front seat and she unrolled the sleeping bag and blankets and tucked them around him, then got in the driver’s seat and started the engine. In a few minutes, hot air poured through the vents. His teeth chattered.
“The water’s not going down. I’m going to drive back to Tortilla Flat.” She backed around. “Maybe there’s someplace there you can take a hot shower.”
She sped down the road as fast as she dared under the slick conditions.
Before she reached Tortilla Flat, another wash full of water brought her to a skidding stop. The SUV fishtailed and she fought to straighten it out. Inches before it skidded off into the rushing water, she brought it to a crooked stop. Wiping sweaty palms on her jeans, she said, “We almost went for another dunk.”
“Don’t try to cross,” he warned. “It’s deeper than it looks.”
She looked in the rear-view mirror. “We can’t go back. Is there another way around?”
“No.” He met her eyes. “We’ll just have to wait it out.”
He was right. No way would she attempt to ford the water, and he wasn’t up to it. “How long do you think we’ll be stuck?”
“No telling. The big surge usually comes after the rain stops.” He looked toward his window. “It’s starting to rain again, so we’re not going anywhere soon.”
“Will someone come looking for us?” she asked.
“Not until late,” he said. “We better settle in.”
She laughed nervously. “Well, we have picnic stuff. Our leftovers from lunch.”
“We can sleep in here if we have to,” he said. He looked over his shoulder. “The backseats fold down to make a bed.”
Sleeping with him, in even an innocent way, would be a bad idea. Mallory swallowed and her mouth felt like a Vegas sidewalk—hot and gritty. If it came to spending the night, she was certain she wouldn’t be able to get much sleep being so close to Mike. But, surely they’d be out of here long before that. The clock on the dash said 4:27. A couple of hours until dark.
“Are you warming up yet?”
“Some.” he looked at her and his lips weren’t blue any more, but they weren’t normal either. Even though the blankets covered him, she could see his shivers.
Mallory scooted across the seat and lifted the edge of the nylon material and slid under it. She turned so she half faced him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “This is supposed to warm you if you have hypothermia.”
“It does, but you have to be naked.” His breath fanned over
her ear.
“We’ll work with this.” A very warm tingle shot through her. Dangerous ground. “Want to listen to a CD? What do you have?”
“Whatever’s in the glove box.” He didn’t sound interested.
She looked. Eagles, Destiny’s Child, Van Halen, Alicia Keys. Odd variety of selections. Choosing Alicia Keys, Mallory slid the CD in the player and the singer’s smooth, smoky voice filled the car. She stuffed the blankets under her butt and snuggled against him again. This time he folded her in his arms. Mallory attempted to relax, but crushed against his wide chest, stilling her pounding pulse wasn’t easy.
Her knees, poking into the side of his leg, ached and she shifted.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked.
“No,” she had to admit.
“Turn around,” he said.
Puzzled, she did. He circled her waist with one hand. “Move back and sit on my lap.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she did as he asked. He tucked her under his chin and wrapped his arms around her middle. His bare legs felt like ice on her butt and she wiggled a little trying to get comfortable.
“Don’t do that unless you want me to get hot real quick,” he warned in her ear.
His deep voice sent a hot-cold flush zipping through her. Though whether from his words or his warm breath, she wasn’t sure. She squeezed her thighs together and tried not to move. Gradually, his heart beating against her cheek and the heat from the vents relaxed her. She closed her eyes.
Pretty sure Mike slept, his breathing slow and regular, she focused on Alicia Keys’ music and the steady thumping of rain on the roof. She didn’t want to think about being stranded in between two raging streams, Skeeter, or Mike’s effect on her. The way she wanted to stay in his arms, to undress and explore him had to be due to emotions from her father’s death. A way to escape grief and anger. She couldn’t find another explanation. She never reacted like this to a man, especially a man she barely knew.
He shifted and her eyes flew open. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you warmer now?” Was it her imagination, or did his arms tighten?
“Yeah. We’d better turn off the heater. If we end up spending the night here it’ll get colder later. We’ll need the heater more then than now.”
She slid off his lap and first turned off the CD, then the motor. Peering through the soaked windshield she saw the water hadn’t receded. In fact, it seemed to have risen a foot or more. “We’re not going this direction.”
“No, and we won’t be able go the other way either if it’s this bad here.” He glanced at the clock. 5:45. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
He focused on her. “You said something weird. You called Brent’s name at the other Durango. Why?”
Mallory wasn’t sure how to answer. He hadn’t exactly believed her up until now. But this time there was evidence. She met his troubled eyes. “I saw him in Goldfield when we were there.”
“What? Where?” He didn’t look as if he believed her.
“I just caught a glimpse,” she admitted. “He ducked between two buildings when we came out of the café.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes. I know what I saw. He spotted me and he jumped behind a corner. I looked right at his face before he hid.” Just like she saw a horse in the desert, just like someone had rifled her room. She knew she wasn’t losing it.
Mike looked at her for a minute. “Why would he do that? And why would he be in Goldfield?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” she said. “Because I thought he was going to work on the rafts.”
“I bet something came up he had to tell me,” Mike said. “Cell phones don’t work out here. At least mine doesn’t. If he thought something was important enough, he would’ve followed me.”
Mallory didn’t remind him that his friend had ducked when he saw her. If Mike wanted to believe the best of his friend, then so be it. She wasn’t going to try and convince him otherwise.
Mike seemed to sense her reservations. “I’ve known him since college. There’s nothing Brent wouldn’t do for me.”
Mallory held her tongue. But she had to wonder if Brent would rifle her room, run her down on a horse, or follow her into the desert. Had he found something on the map? That was crazy.
Get ahold of yourself, Mal. You’re letting you imagination run wild.
“We’ll find out the truth when the water goes down,” Mike said.
Mallory doubted it, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
CHAPTER NINE
Mallory yawned and stretched. “Sorry.”
By 10:00 P.M. it became more than apparent no one was coming to look for them. Neither of their cell phones had service.
They weren’t going to cross the ravine. Although the rain had finally let up, the wash still ran like the Colorado River, fast and high. After they spread out the sleeping bag across the folded-down back seats, they ate cold hamburgers left over from lunch, briefly listened to the radio and played a few games of cards on a deck Mike found in the glovebox.
“No reason to apologize.” Mike stuck the cards back in their box. “Are you ready to try and get some sleep?”
“I think so,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
He indicated the covers. “You take the sleeping bag and stay back here. I’ll take the blankets and go up front.”
“No.” She picked up the blankets. “I’ll go. You’re too tall to fit up there.”
“You’re not that much shorter than me.” Mike took the edge of the blankets. “Let’s both stay here. We’ll separate the covers and each stay on our own side.”
She wanted to scream no, that her entire body sang awareness of him, that he was too big, too male, and entirely too close in the small space. “Fine.”
He let go of the blankets. “I’ll go up front and run the heat for a little bit while you get settled.”
Mallory waited until he climbed up to the front seat and started the motor. Then she folded the sleeping bag, slipped inside, placed her glasses nearby and closed her eyes. Weary just a few minutes before, she was now wide awake. The carpeted surface under her make-shift bed felt like rocks under her hip and shoulder. Mike turned on the radio to a classic rock station. Heart sang Dog and Butterfly. Mallory grinned when he joined in, off key.
He waited for several minutes, then asked, “All set?”
“Yes.”
The radio went silent and then the engine. Mike climbed over the seat and folded his two blankets. He got between them, facing her, and only about six inches separated them. He still looked peaked. She reached out and touched his cheek. He was warm, but not feverish.
His eyes darkened.
Her own temperature rose. She touched her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. If he moved just a few inches closer he could kiss her. She slid a fraction of an inch toward him.
He reached out and smoothed a piece of hair off her cheek.
Her stomach tightened. This wasn’t smart. He had almost drowned a few hours ago. She was worried about him, nothing more. A kiss or two might help him forget the trauma.
His hand slid around the back of her neck and threaded into her tangled hair.
Her eyes drifted shut. Maybe just one kiss. Only to make sure he was on the road to recovery. Nothing more. She moved another eighth of an inch.
Pulling her head close, his lips brushed hers.
She parted her lips. Once she made sure he was all right they would stop. Just one kiss. Another tiny maneuver and their lips met. Just one tiny kiss.
He covered her mouth with his and tasted her. He teased the corner of her mouth, but didn’t try to enter. Why? She touched the tip of his tongue with hers, then did it again when he tightened his hold on her hair. He let her take the lead and she tormented him, teasing him with the promise of a deep, lasting kiss, then darting away. He tried to capture her, but she kept up the game until he moaned.
With one hand wrapped in her messy curls, he unzipped the sleeping bag with the other. With the nylon barrier no longer dividing them, he scooted closer so that their bodies pressed together. His erection pressing against her belly told her exactly how much he wanted her. If he had any ill effects from his near-drowning, he masked them well.
Lying face-to-face, her breasts squashed into Mike’s chest, their legs intertwined, she wanted to feel his skin with her fingertips. She reached for the hem of his shirt but he beat her to it, leaving her mouth long enough to jerk the cotton tee over his head. With slow, curious strokes she explored his chest. Her fingers skimmed downy soft hair and firm muscles underneath. She spread her hand wide over his left pec, liking the strong, steady heartbeat she felt there.
There was more to discover.
Her palm slid for the waistband of his trunks.
No longer content to let her tease him, he dunked his tongue deep into her mouth to play his own version of cat and mouse with her. With a firm grasp in her hair, he held her fast. His other hand reached for her breast. He held her over her clothes, and the sensation of his firm, gentle grip nearly undid what little control she had. He squeezed and she cried out, the sound muffled by his mouth over hers.
Untangling his fingers from her hair, he slid them down, settling his palm on the curve of her hip. Mallory shifted slightly to her back, and felt something under her spine. Drawing away from Mike, she reached to smooth out the lump. Her fingers curled around something familiar. Her purse. She’d placed it in the back when they’d put the seats down to make the bed.
Reality crashed over her.
The missing map.
She had just kissed the man who was protecting someone who had stolen her property.
Stupid move.
Trusting him was a big mistake. She sat up and ran both hands through her hair, pushing it off her face.
“What’s wrong?” The concern in his voice nearly changed her mind. But men had fooled her before.
“Nothing.” She fiddled with the strap of her bag. “We better stop before we go too far.”