They'd taken several running steps toward the path leading up the cliff when he heard a sound from above them. As a rock climber the sound was one he'd heard before. Covering Libby's head with both his arms, he ran the last couple of steps to shove her against the cliff wall, his body crouching over hers protectively as rocks, dirt and mud rained down on them. He made himself as small as possible, wincing when debris pounded on his shoulders and arms. Dirt poured over them and Libby coughed.
He put his mouth next to her ear. "Try not to breathe."
She didn't reply but her hand slipped into his. He pressed her head into his chest. She felt small and fragile in his arms, unlike the Libby who seemed so self assured to him. He tightened his arms and tucked his chin over her head. It seemed an eternity before the rock slide stopped.
He remained holding her. "You think it's safe to move?"
"Thank you." She straightened, pulling her hand out of his, putting a small space between them.
He could still feel her body against his, an illusion, but all the same, she felt like she belonged there. "For what?"
Libby stepped cautiously over the rubble and pointed toward the chairs where they'd been sitting minutes earlier. The wooden chairs had been smashed to splinters by several large boulders. "You just had to mention the cliffs eroding, didn't you?"
The teasing note in her voice robbed him of breath. She looked on the verge of laughter. That was enough to stop his heart. He put his hand over his aching chest. "I had no idea the power of my suggestion was so strong. Next time, I'll be more careful."
"Jonas mentioned there'd been several slides after the last big rain we had. Sea Lion Cove took a major hit. The cliff is really unstable, but I guess we didn't pay attention like we should have."
Ty studied the rock face towering above them. "It didn't look that unstable. There wasn't even an earthquake. Did you notice the boulders looking as if they might fall as you were walking down to the beach?"
"I wasn't paying attention to it, Ty," Libby admitted. "I can't remember the last time any of us looked. Jonas is going to give us one of his many, many lectures."
"Where, exactly, does Jonas fit into your family?" Ty asked. "I remember that he was always around all of you, but he isn't related, is he?" He reached out to brush dirt from her hair.
Libby raised a hand to try to tidy the mass of blue-black silk tumbling around her face. Ty caught her wrist, preventing her from fussing. "You look beautiful, even all messed up."
Libby took a breath. Ten minutes earlier she wanted to push the man into the ocean, now all she could think about was kissing him. "That's a nice thing to say, Ty. I'm not feeling particularly beautiful, so it means a lot that you'd say it."
He shrugged. "I was just stating the obvious. You were telling me where Jonas fits into your family," he reminded. He'd had several bad nights lying awake, remembering the look on Jonas Harrington's face when he'd seen Libby crushed and bleeding on the hospital floor. Ty still hadn't been able to erase the image of Jonas carrying Libby down the hospital hallway.
Libby shrugged. "Jonas is family whether he's related by blood or not. He'll always be family. I think he'd like to disown us, but he can't. He's stuck with us and we drive him crazy."
He could imagine. Jonas was in law enforcement. With the family being outright charlatans, the man was bound to be in a difficult position trying to protect them. Ty didn't want to think about Libby's family, only that intriguing smile she'd flashed at him. He took her hand. As silly as it sounded, he liked holding her hand. "Let's get you back to the house. Do you think you can make the climb?"
"I'm fine," Libby said. She'd had a headache for days, but she wasn't going to admit it to Ty. She didn't pull her hand away, acutely aware of the way the pad of his thumb rubbed over her skin causing a small fluttering in her stomach. No one had ever made her stomach flutter before. "I can certainly make it back up the stairs."
Ty tucked her hand against his chest and began the long climb. The stairs had been dug out a hundred years earlier and each generation had helped to make it easier to climb. Somewhere along the way a railing had been constructed on one side. Tyson kept Libby pressed close to the railing for safety. "It's a good thing you're feeling fine, I don't want you using this little mishap as an excuse to avoid our date." He smirked at her.
"Date?" Her voice squeaked. "We don't have a date."
"Yes, we do."
Libby shook her head decisively. "I don't go out on dates."
"Well, you're going on a date with me. I asked. You said yes. Are you backing out?" He challenged. "I know you're attracted to me."
Libby looked horrified. It was all he could do to keep from laughing. "I am not. What gave you that idea?"
"You did. You said so, when I asked you to go out with me." He tilted his head, studying her face, looking her straight in the eye. "Come on, Drake, in the hospital. You're not going to pretend you didn't say you wanted to go out with me."
"What else did I say?" Pure suspicion was in her voice.
"That I'm brilliant. Which I am."
"This isn't funny, Ty. We never had the conversation. I don't date."
"Yes, you do. You dated that idiot doctor from the C.D.C. You remember him. He had a toupee."
"He did not. That's his own hair. And he wasn't an idiot." She narrowed her eyes, pinning him with her gaze. "How would you know I dated him?"
"Sam. He's a fountain of information. Remember, he told you I eat Cracker Jacks? And the C.D.C doc was too an idiot. I had one conversation with him and that was enough to tell me he got his position through family connections or politics."
Libby sighed. "Well, I don't really go out on dates so it isn't possible I said yes. And I only went to dinner with him once."
"Because he was an idiot," Ty insisted. "Come on, Drake, tell the truth. He was boring, he only talked about himself and he didn't have a brain."
"Whatever. You know darned well we didn't have a conversation in the hospital."
He put a hand over his heart. "I can't believe you'd pretend otherwise. You came into my room and told me to hang on, I had to live because I was so valuable."
Her eyebrow shot up.
"Okay, so you said my brain was valuable, same thing, Drake, whether you want to admit it or not."
"And I said you were brilliant." Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
"Well," he hedged, "not in so many words."
"I'll just bet not in so many words." Libby spun around and started back up the stairs. She couldn't remember anything about that day at the hospital. Elle had told her about her conversation with Irene. Irene's purse hadn't done the damage. Libby had collapsed all on her own. Elle had known she was in trouble, but no one would be able to tell her if she'd really had a conversation with Tyson Derrick. "You were unconscious."
"No, I wasn't."
"You were in a vegetative state."
"It was a miracle, according to Dr. Shayner. Maybe just you whispering all those compliments turned me around."
"You're so full of it." There was laughter in her voice again. "You're making all this up."
There was something about her laughter that affected him more than he cared to admit. It wasn't just that she made his body tighten and every cell come alive, it went deeper than that. He analyzed data, and she was messing with more than his hormones. When she laughed, his insides churned and his heart felt lighter. It didn't make sense, but she was nearly a drug in his system. Just being around her gave him that same rush of adrenaline he was so addicted to.
"Do I look like a man who makes things up?" he countered.
She paused again on the stair above him, turning to look up at his face. Her bottom brushed across his groin as she turned and the dull ache turned into a full-blown pain. He caught her by the arms and held her in front of him.
The smile faded from her face. Ty didn't realize he was so close, his head bending down towards hers. Her mouth was sinfully tempting, her lips full and soft and parted
just that little bit. He saw her eyes widen in shock and then his mouth took possession of hers. He wasn't thinking. If there hadn't been an earthquake before, there sure as hell was one now.
The earth moved. Maybe it spun. He didn't know. He didn't care. He kissed her again, his tongue teasing and dancing until she opened for him. Her mouth clung to his. The kiss deepened. He couldn't let go, gathering her closer, turning the kiss into something not so gentle. Blood heated, rushed and pounded as if he'd been injected with a potent testosterone-laced drug. He pulled her closer still, needing to touch her soft skin, to feel her heat, to feast on her addicting taste.
Her body moved against his and he forgot all about his ribs and his smashed chest. He forgot all about the new drug and wondering why his safety harness had failed. He simply felt, his body totally alive, every nerve ending sizzled as if he were dangling fifty feet off a rope over a blazing forest fire, intense heat all but melting him. He ravenously devoured her neck, her throat and back up again to her unbelievable mouth. He'd fantasized forever about her mouth, but not a single erotic fantasy had prepared him for the frenzied need to kiss her again and again.
Libby's arms crept up to circle his neck as she responded with complete abandon to Tyson Derrick's kisses. She wanted more. Always more. To be closer, to touch his bare skin, to feel his hard muscles, to warm her body against his heat. She needed to feel his hunger matching the sudden flare of her own. It came out of nowhere, a need so deep, so primitive, she didn't recognize herself. His kisses swept her away from the anchor of responsibility always weighing her down. She floated. She sizzled. She felt sexually desirable.
She was different. In his arms, she was different. No one had ever kissed her like that--as if he were on fire. As if he needed her, had to have her. As if she were everything to him. She ran her hand up his chest and he winced. Sanity returned in a little rush. Libby tried to pull back. His hand wrapped around the nape of her neck to hold her still and his mouth continued to command hers.
Libby's brain simply shorted out. She lost all ability to think, to reason, tumbling into a well of pure sexual feeling. It was impossible to breathe. They were exchanging air, but it wasn't enough. Her body burned for his, her fingers tangling in his dark hair.
"Libby." He whispered her name against her lips.
"I can't breathe."
"Neither can I. I can't move either. We're going to have to stand here forever unless you're willing to go find a nice quiet hidden spot on the beach."
Libby forced herself to pull back. "This isn't real, you know. I'm drugged. Totally drugged." She pressed a hand to her swollen lips, knowing she looked thoroughly kissed. The shadow on his jaw had rubbed her sensitive skin red and she was suddenly aware of her neck throbbing. She pressed her hand over her skin. "You didn't dare give me a hickey, did you?"
"Here, let me look." He pulled her hand down. "To be honest, I don't know what the hell I did." He lifted her hair and stared for a long time at her neck, finally leaning forward to press his lips against the offending spot. "I'd say you have a hickey, unless you have a strawberry birthmark."
Libby stared up at him, unable to believe he had managed to take her over like that. She was always in control. Always. She didn't lose her mind over men. She wasn't seduced by them and she certainly didn't have such powerful sexual reactions--not over an arrogant man who had absolutely no social skills, especially one who insulted her entire family. What was the matter with her? She wasn't all the way better. That was the only explanation for her madness.
"What drug?"
She blinked. "What are you talking about? I'm smart, Ty, but why is it I never know what you're talking about?" She let her hand glide over his sternum, rest there for just a moment before sliding it around to his ribs.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers and thumb. "You said you were drugged, that this isn't real. I want to know what drug you're taking."
"Aspirin. I had a headache."
"And aspirin causes you to become sexually excited? Kissable? Totally alluring?"
"Obviously."
He nodded. "Make certain you take one before our dinner date."
A slow smile brought his attention back to her mouth. "Ty, we don't have a date. I'd remember."
"Not necessarily. I'm not so memorable unless I'm kissing you and I didn't kiss you in the hospital. I realize now that that was a big mistake."
Libby shook her head and took a tentative step up the stairs. She felt shaky without his arms around her. "What time is our date?"
He glanced at his watch. "In about a half hour."
"I can't get ready in half an hour. My hair's a mess and I need makeup to go out." She took a firm grip on the railing and pulled herself up the next stair. She was crazy to go out with him. He was arrogant and antisocial, didn't believe in magic and he thought all her sisters were con artists. He'd drive her crazy. Libby touched her fingers to her lips. But the man could kiss and that counted for something.
"You don't need makeup, Libby. I like the natural look."
She laughed. "You like artfully done makeup that makes women look natural. If I went like this you'd tell me my nose was sunburned."
"It is."
"Go away, Ty, before I come to my senses and change my mind."
"An hour, Libby. I'll be back and you'd better not be hiding in your house."
"At least you know my first name. If you'd kept calling me Drake I was going to shove you over the cliff."
"I kissed you. I can't call you Drake after I've kissed you."
"You have to forget you kissed me. There's no more kissing."
He touched the red mark on her neck. "There's proof. I won't be forgetting--and neither will you. Take the aspirin, Libby."
5
"YOU have dirt all over your face and a hickey on your neck." Hannah greeted her sister with a cup of tea. "I don't suppose you want to tell me what you've been up to while I've been grocery shopping."
Libby blew on the steaming cup. "I have dirt on my face?" She was mortified. Of course she had dirt on her face. Dirt, a hickey and a bright red sunburned nose. She was about as elegant as it got. Standing next to Hannah didn't help. Tall, blond, a runway supermodel with unbelievable exotic looks, Hannah had appeared on nearly every magazine cover there was. Hannah was thin, but she couldn't look bad if she tried.
"Yep. Your face is streaked with dirt, like a commando or something. What have you been doing? And I'm particularly interested in the hickey."
"It's a birthmark. A strawberry birthmark." Libby tried to look innocent as she sipped the hot tea.
Hannah nodded her head. "Mom will be interested in that birthmark. I'll bet she's never seen it before. She should be home in a week or two. She called and said Aunt Carol and Dad were exploring the Napa valley, make that wineries, and she was busy hitting all the wedding shops to get ideas. I think they're having a great time."
"They always have a great time when they're together," Libby observed. "After I scared them to death, it's good for them to take a little time off." She paused before dropping the bombshell. "I'm going on a date tonight and I thought I'd wear something classy. You know, jeans and a T-shirt."
Hannah nearly tipped over her teacup. "You? A date?"
"Hey, now," Libby cautioned with a small frown of reprimand, "that's not very nice. I do get asked out on dates."
"Sorry. I know you get asked out, you just never go. Are you planning on washing your face or is your date the wild type?"
Libby sank into a chair. "I have no idea how I got myself into this."
"I'm guessing the brand new birthmark may have had something to do with it," Hannah ventured with a small grin. "You weren't rolling in the dirt with him, were you? And who is this man who managed to make you forget you're Doctor Libby Drake, always prim and proper?"
"I'm still prim and proper."
"Well, the dirt doesn't go with that image and neither does the hickey."
"Bir
thmark," Libby corrected.
"Neither does that very large and outstanding birthmark on your neck. Were you rolling in the dirt with him? Inquiring minds want to know."
"Of course not." Libby couldn't control the blush that stole up her neck and flushed her cheeks a bright rose to match her nose. "Of course not," she repeated.
Hannah shook her head, the platinum spiral curls swirling around her shoulders and down her back. "Oh, Libby. You're in real trouble with this one, aren't you? Who is he?"
"I'm not saying." Libby kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the small ottoman. "I don't even like him."
"Oh dear, that's worse. He must kiss like a fiend. He's hot, isn't he?"
"He's an arrogant, antisocial adrenaline junkie. With an extraordinary body." Libby scowled at her sister. "I meant brain."
"Body, huh?"
"Brain. I meant brain. He has a brain, although he doesn't use it half the time. And he lacks social skills like you wouldn't believe. If he'd just stay quiet we could have a wonderful relationship, but he insists on talking."
"Bummer," Hannah said. "You still haven't told me his name."
Libby rolled her eyes. "Tyson Derrick."
Hannah choked on her tea. "Oh my God. You've lost your mind, Libby. You know that, don't you? You can't go out with him. He's as socially inept as Jonas."
"I know, I know." Libby covered her face with her hand and peeked out through her fingers. "I think my brain is still recovering from injuries."
A shadow fell across them and they looked up to see Jonas Harrington filling the doorway with his broad shoulders. Hannah made a face and Libby put a hand over her neck to cover all evidence. "Jonas, how good of you to sneak in."
"If I don't sneak, Hannah sends the dogs after me. I'm not socially inept, by the way. Many women find me appealing."
Hannah managed to make a snort sound elegant. The sheriff glared at her. She smiled sweetly and took a sip of tea.
"Is something wrong?" Libby asked.
"I got a call from Elle. She was worried about you. Something about a mudslide. She asked me to check on you."
"How strange that Elle felt it, too," Hannah said. "That's why I came home, Libby. For just a few moments, I felt something malevolent and then it was gone."
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