by Peggy Webb
She’d destroyed the entire animal kingdom in order to provide fuel for Hunter Wolfe’s delicious body. Hannah was in no mood for meat. She needed ice cream and strawberries topped with a mountain of whipped cream. She needed the kind of food that would put pounds on her hips while she ate. She needed the kind that would make her feel guilty for days after she indulged. At least it would take her mind off the real reason she was feeling guilty, the many reasons she felt guilty.
She started assembling the world’s biggest ice cream sundae, then her skin prickled and her heart beat faster. She didn’t even have to look up to know that Hunter was standing in the doorway, tall, bronzed and mouthwatering.
“You probably haven’t had ice cream in years.” She didn’t dare look at him. Looking was too dangerous. “It’s rich and fattening. It probably clogs the arteries and does no telling what all to the rest of the body.”
Oh, lord. His body.…
Her hands trembled, and that made her even angrier. She squirted so much whipped cream that it slid off her ice-cream confection and across the table, then slithered to the floor. It plopped on her bare foot and spattered her ankles.
Why didn’t he do something? Why wasn’t he laughing?
Hannah risked a peek. The heat of his gaze incinerated her, and she could do nothing but hold the can in mid-air, staring.
He stalked her with the slow, lazy grace of a wild animal certain of his prowess.
“Don’t you take a step closer.” He didn’t smile, didn’t blink, didn’t even pause. “If you come any closer you’ll be sorry.”
Why wouldn’t he? All he had to do was look at her with those burning silver eyes and she surrendered. He must think she’d gone crazy. As a matter of fact, she was beginning to wonder.
“Hunter… I’m warning you.…”
He wasn’t the kind of man who heeded warnings. Ever.
Hannah aimed and fired. Whipped cream splatted his face and dribbled onto his shirt. Eyes gleaming, he reached for her. With barely time for one last blast, she aimed for his groin.
His lips slammed down on hers and the can clattered to the floor. Hannah didn’t stand a chance. He vanquished her anger in two seconds flat. It took three to conquer her heart and by the count of four he’d captured her entire citadel.
His hands ripped at buttons and hers fumbled with zippers.
“Let me,” she whispered, and then they were writhing on the floor and she was licking whipped cream off his eyebrows, his cheeks, his mouth. His delicious mouth.
It roamed her body like a heat-seeking missile. They bumped the table leg and ice cream and strawberries cascaded over them. The combination of cold and heat drove her wild. Inspiration seized her, and she grabbed a handful of berries and scattered them across her chest and downward.
“How about a little dessert before the main course?”
He savored her breasts, then followed the trail of berries to their secret hiding place.
“You certainly are a fast learner,” she murmured, and that was the last thing she said for a long, long time.
Chapter Twenty-One
November 15, 2001
It has been five months now since Michael went into a coma, and I want to shout the house down. I want to scream until my throat is raw. Actually, I did. Yesterday I got in the car and drove down the river road until I came to a deserted place, then I climbed on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi and just stood there with my mouth wide open, screaming.
When I told Clarice about it and asked, “Am I losing my marbles?” she said, “No. It’s called the primal scream.
Wise people use it. It’s like letting steam out of a pressure cooker so it won’t blow up.”
Clarice knows a little something about everything.
Except coma. Nobody knows much about coma. Nobody can answer my questions.
“When will Michael wake up?” That’s what I asked his doctor, and he said, “I wish I could tell you, Anne.”
Then I said, “Is he ever going to wake up?” Do you know what he did? He gave me this sad-eyed look, then patted my hand and walked away.
I know I told Michael I would never lose hope. Not ever.
But I lied. I’m losing hope. Here it is nearly Thanksgiving, and I’m facing the prospect of another lonely holiday.
Oh, I know, I know. I’ll have my children, but that’s not the same as having Michael. In fact, being surrounded by married children and seeing all that bliss makes me even lonelier.
Hannah won’t be in Atlanta, of course. Not with that wolfman in her house. Every time I call him that, she reminds me to call him by name, and none too gently, either. She has always been bossy and opinionated, but lately she’s been sharp and edgy as well. I don’t know what’s come over her.
Well, yes, I do. She finally bit off more than she can chew. Though she tells me her pupil is making great strides, he’s still not talking.
“At least he’s wearing clothes now,” she said when I called last night. “He’s eating with a fork, too.”
I thought I detected just a hint of territorial pride in her voice, the kind you get when you’ve staked your claim and are feeling frisky and sexy and just plain wonderful.…
I had to stop writing and cry because I’m wondering if I’ll ever feel that way again. I’m wondering if I’ll ever get Michael back.
Naturally, I jumped to conclusions where Hannah’s concerned. She’s far too sensible to lose her head over this wilderness man.
And yet, it would take a man just that extraordinary to capture her attention.
I wish I could drive up there and see for myself. I wish Hannah would let me tell Daniel. He has such a level head. I would feel better if he could come over here and assess this situation. Hannah nearly bit my head off when I suggested it.
“Don’t you dare tell Daniel.”
“Why not? He’d certainly never tell.”
“For one thing, I don’t know how Hunter would react.”
“What else?”
“What do you mean, what else?”
“You said, for one thing. What’s the other reason you don’t want Daniel to visit?”
“Because…this is something I have to do myself. I got Hunter into this, and I’m going to get him out.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“When he’s ready, I’m going to let him make his debut into polite society.”
“Just how polite?”
“I’ll start small…with a family gathering.”
“You said he wouldn’t be ready for Thanksgiving. I think Christmas would be a little overwhelming.”
Thinking of family occasions reminded me that Michael and I have an anniversary coming up on December l0, and right out of the blue I started to cry. On the telephone. Of all the embarrassing things.
Hannah thought it was her fault.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll take Hunter somewhere else for his first outing.…”
“It’s not that,” I said, and when I mentioned our anniversary she said, “Maybe Dad will be back by then. Maybe that’s just the incentive he needs to come back.”
“Do you really think so?”
She must have heard the doubt in my voice, for she said, “Mom, we can’t lose hope. We can’t ever lose hope.”
She’s right.
I’m going to carry my blue gown to the nursing home, the one Michael loves, and I’m going to sleep with him tonight. I’m going to wrap my arms around him and say, “Darling, do you remember our wedding night? Do you remember what you told me? Anne, you said, all our nights together will be just this wonderful…for the rest of our lives.”
Michael always loved a challenge. I’m going to remind him of that promise and dare him to keep it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hannah drifted through her days, isolated by necessity and cocooned by love. There, she’d admitted it. She loved Hunter Wolfe. She loved every aspect of him�
�the primitive wolfman, the eager student, the insatiable lover, the laughing companion, the mysterious man hidden inside a deep and abiding silence.
And that made her work with him even harder. Now instead of knowing that she acted solely on what was best for Hunter, she had to wonder if every decision she made was based on her own selfish interests.
She would ask Hunter, but he couldn’t speak. Or wouldn’t.
And Lord only knew where he slept.
Not in her bed, though he came there every night. And as soon as she began to drift off, he eased out the door. She’d stopped following him weeks ago.
For reasons known only to him, Hunter was going nowhere.
Did he stay because of her? She didn’t dare ask herself that question. And she certainly couldn’t ask him.
Disgusted with herself, Hannah flung back the covers then shivered when she put her bare feet on the floor. She raced to the bathroom and was just reaching for her robe when the phone rang.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Sis.”
Was it Thanksgiving already? She’d forgotten.
“Good morning, Daniel.”
“Morning? It’s two in the afternoon.”
“Oh.”
“Hannah, are you sick? Mom’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine, Daniel. I just overslept, that’s all.”
Her robe slid from her shoulder and bared a breast still rosy from Hunter’s tender attentions. Hannah sank onto her bed and lay back against the pillows, still dreamy from the wee-hours marathon that had lasted until dawn.
“That’s not like you.”
“I’ve been working hard.”
Daniel snorted. “You can do the work of three people with one hand tied behind your back. Something else is wrong. I can sense it.”
She’d have to be careful. She and her brother were so close that he could almost read her mind.
“What has Mom been telling you?”
“Nothing. She said you couldn’t come to Atlanta because you were involved in research and couldn’t get away, but I’m not buying it.”
“It’s the truth.” Mostly. She hated lying to her brother. What if she told him?
Then he’d tell Skylar, and some nosy reporter snooping around to catch the sexy singer in candid shots with her preacher husband might overhear. It would be all over the paper and the whole world would descend on them.
Hannah didn’t dare risk the truth. “How’s Skylar?”
“Are you changing the subject?”
“Yes.”
Thankfully, Daniel was always eager to talk about his beautiful, talented wife, and so Hannah got off the hook.
“She’s got everybody in the parish eating out of her hand.”
“I knew she would. They just needed a little time to get used to the idea of change, that’s all.”
“Change?” Daniel laughed. “Skylar is not change. She’s a firestorm.”
His happiness overflowed, and suddenly Hannah’s heart hurt. Could she be jealous? Not that she wanted the same things he did…three children and a mortgage. Still, there was something to be said for knowing that when you wake up in the morning the person you love will be right there at your side. There was something to be said for knowing that any time the thoughts that breed in darkness scare you, you can reach out and anchor yourself to a dear, familiar body.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Hannah?”
“I’m great.”
“All right, then. You know you can call me if you need me.”
She was going to be crying any minute now. That would really send up flares.
“I’ve been taking care of myself for years. I could whip ten of you, Daniel.”
“All right. That’s more like it…here’s Sky. She wants to talk.”
“Hannah!” Skylar’s voice washed over her like music. “We missed you today.”
“I missed you, too. Sorry I couldn’t join you.”
“I was thinking about Christmas.…”
Hunter appeared in the doorway without his beard, and Hannah dropped the phone. Never taking her eyes off him, she picked it up.
“Sorry. The phone slipped out of my hand. What were you saying?”
Flame leaped into Hunter’s eyes as he strode to the bed. Without preamble he dropped to his knees, pushed aside her robe and buried his face in the place she most wanted him to be.
“I was saying that I’m going to be doing a Christmas concert tour, and Daniel’s going with me. Is it all right with you if we move the family celebration up a couple of weeks?”
“Yes…oh, yesss.”
Hunter plied his talented tongue, and Hannah grabbed a handful of sheet and stuffed it in her mouth to muffle her moans.
“Great. Emily wants to have it at her house, but I thought we might plan it at Belle Rose so Anne won’t feel so displaced.”
Hunter stood up and shucked his shirt and jeans. As he came back toward her, Hannah caught her breath.
“Sky, can I call you back later about this? Something has come up.”
Something magnificent. She caught his hips, then closed her mouth around him.
Christmas was a long way off, but this…this was so immediate, so splendid.
He pushed her back against the pillows, and she wrapped her legs around him.
“I’d like to keep you like this forever,” she whispered. Then a hurricane swept over her, and she laced her arms around him and hung on.
Hunter welcomed the sweet hot storm that enveloped him. As always, forgetfulness came quickly. He lost himself in her. The daily plague of questions ceased and his inner turmoil quieted.
Here in her bed. Here in her body.
Gauging her readiness, he plunged deep, and she rewarded him by arching like a speared fish and screaming her pleasure. He never tired of being with her, watching her, listening to her.
I’d like to keep you like this forever, she’d said, but he knew it was an impossible dream. Somewhere outside this small house in the woods by the river, the truth waited. The real world was out there. Her world. And it wouldn’t be as gentle as she. It wouldn’t treat him as kindly.
Twenty years ago he’d been cast into the society of wolves. If CNN painted a true picture he was going to be cast into another one, only this time the wolves wore three-piece suits and silk ties.
His brains and his courage had rescued him the first time, but it was his ability to adapt that saved him. Could he do it again?
And did he want to?
Here…now…buried deep in Hannah’s hot flesh while she moved beneath him like a river, he wanted to shout, Yes! But what of tomorrow?
It was time. Time to find out. Time to reveal himself.
Passion built in him until he couldn’t contain it. With a cry he remembered from long days and lonely nights in the wilderness, he spilled his seed. Then he rolled to his side with Hannah caught close against him.
Hunter buried his face in her fragrant hair and whispered her name.
She jerked back and stared at him. “What did you say?”
“I spoke your name. Hannah.”
“I can’t believe it… I can’t believe it.…” She traced his lips with her fingertips. “That was perfect, wonderful.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “All this time…you could talk.”
“No, not at first. You wouldn’t have called my early attempts speech.”
“You practiced?”
“Yes.”
“But I never even heard you.”
“I didn’t want you to hear me. I practiced in the woods.”
“So that’s where you’ve been going every night?”
“Yes.”
She sat up and propped against the headboard. He loved that she didn’t pull the sheet up to cover herself.
“How did it happen? When?”
“Some of the words began to make sense to me when we were still in Denali. Once we arrived here and you bombarded me with language, it all came back very quickly. Vocabul
ary. Grammar. Syntax.”
He cupped her face. “You’re a magnificent teacher, Hannah.”
The lovely color that flooded her cheeks fascinated him. So did the sudden tightening of her nipples. Unable to resist, he raised himself on his elbows and lavished his attention on them.
“In many skills,” he added, and she tangled her hands in his hair and held him close.
He felt his hold on reality slipping away. He was losing himself once more, drowning in Hannah.
“There’s so much I want to ask you,” she murmured.
“Later.” He rolled her over, and she anchored herself to the bedpost as he drove home. “Much, much later,” he said, then a riptide washed him away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Afternoon sun poured through the bank of west-facing windows in the kitchen. Hannah and Hunter sat at the table surrounded by remnants of a Bohemian feast—broccoli, cauliflower and carrots along with every kind of fruit in the refrigerator served with mounds of whipped cream. Though she’d grown up celebrating a traditional Thanksgiving in the bosom of her large and loving family, she counted this the best Thanksgiving she’d ever had.
And all because of Hunter Wolfe. He had the kind of face that should be sculpted in marble and displayed as a national treasure. With his beard gone, she saw the high cheekbones, the aristocratic nose, the strong, square jaw.
“I can’t stop looking.” She reached out and traced his cheekbones. “Nor touching.”
“I enjoy it. But I guess that’s obvious.”
“Yes.” She dipped a strawberry in the cream to cover her discomfiture. Now that he could talk she felt slightly off-balance and a bit embarrassed. Thinking back over their sexual exploits of the past few weeks she decided she was the one who needed civilizing.
She was miffed at herself. She’d always been in control. Always.
“Hannah, look at me.” He cupped her face. “Don’t let my ability to speak change you.”
“I never believed that anything or anyone had the power.”
Something flickered in the depths of his quicksilver eyes. Confusion, probably. If she weren’t careful she was going to ruin weeks of work. And all for nothing.
What good would it do to bare her soul? What good would it do to tell a man who knew nothing of romance that she finally understood what her mother had been talking about all these years. You don’t find true love, it finds you.