Hidden Fire

by Alexis Fleming

  His body jerked, the blood thickening his erection to painful proportions. His fingers dug in, holding on tight to her soft backside. Pleasure spiralled through him. The breath hitched high in his chest and his pulse threatened to deafen him.

  She slipped one hand down between them and flattened her palm over him, squeezing until a guttural groan slid from his mouth. When her fingers went to work on his belt, he forgot about anything and everything except reliving the dream of last night.

  With his zip undone, she eased her hand inside his jeans and trailed her fingers along his engorged length. The muscles in his gut tightened. Molten fire coursed through his veins. Struggling for control, he tilted his head back and stared at the wall above her.

  That’s when it saw it again, the crude rendering of a pelican.

  Sanity prevailed. It was as if someone had doused him in ice-cold water. Hell, he couldn’t do this. If he did, emotionally it would rip him wide open. He wasn’t certain he could handle her walking away a second time.

  Gritting his teeth, he stepped back from the side of the tunnel. “Enough, Gili.”

  She lifted her head from his neck and looked at him as if unable to comprehend what had happened. Christ, she wasn’t the only one. He had Gili Adams in his arms and he was about to walk away? What a bloody idiot, but it was the only way he could think to protect himself.

  He reached around behind him and unhooked her ankles, lowering her to the ground. When she had her balance, he released her and put some distance between them so he wouldn’t be tempted. “Get dressed. We’re wasting time and we’ve got work to do.”

  Her face paled in the dim lighting. She said nothing for a few minutes, just stared at him. Then she straightened her shoulders and braced her hands on her hips. “What the hell is wrong with you? One moment you’re all over me like a rash. The next you can’t get away from me fast enough. What is it, Morgan? Revenge? Because I walked away from you on the Iranian plateau?”

  Revenge? Oh yeah. It should have been sweet. Why then did he have such a sour taste in his mouth? “Babe, you were a six-year itch that I couldn’t get rid of. I scratched that itch last night. Now get dressed. We’ve got work to do.”

  He closed his mind to the shattered look on her face, turned and walked out of the mine. Never mind that he felt like the biggest rat on the earth.

  Chapter Eight

  Gili gritted her teeth as she reefed Morgan’s t-shirt over her head and tossed it across the mine. His smell still clung to it and right now, she wanted nothing to remind her just how much an idiot she was when it came to Morgan Hunt. “Asshole.”

  The shame of it was, she didn’t know if it was Morgan she referred to, or herself. He’d warned her last night. No ties.

  She grimaced. Could she do that? Just think of it as sex for the sake of sex? Good, hot, heart-pounding screwing and nothing else?

  And ‘no ties’ was fine by her. Yeah, it would be tough given how she felt about him, but she would deal with it. But treating her as if she had some dreaded disease was a whole different ballgame.

  “Hurry up, Gili. I’m waiting and I don’t have all day.”

  She growled as Morgan’s voice echoed down the tunnel from the entrance. To hell with him.

  “Bite me,” she muttered. Squatting, she upended the pack Morgan had brought her to hunt for a fresh t-shirt. She’d already discovered a pair of panties still in their packet when she’d first retreated to the mine to change. It hadn’t taken her long to put them to good use. Wearing tight jeans without any underwear was a tad uncomfortable.

  Before she could examine the rest of the contents, the mine had spoken to her and she’d abandoned the backpack to follow the call. She shook her head. Yeah, and look where that had landed her. Damn Morgan Hunt and his hurtful attitude.

  She grabbed the first top she saw and pulled it over her head. It was a little tight, but would have to do. She rifled through the rest of the clothing, looking for something else to wear instead of jeans.

  “Yesss,” she crowed as she spied three more pairs of fresh panties, still in their wrappers. One day she’d have to thank Morgan’s sister for the use of her clothes, but in the meantime, she needed to hurry before Morgan decided to come back and check on her.

  She found a pair of light cotton shorts and quickly dragged them on. Socks on her feet, plus the boots Narri had loaned her, and she was ready to go. Finally, grabbing the felt hat Morgan had given her and the bottle of sunscreen lotion, she stamped out of the mine.

  “Alright, I’m here.” Charlie and Morgan stood beside the fire pit. Ignoring Morgan, Gili turned to Charlie. “What would you like me to do?”

  “I would like you to help out with digging the latrine,” Morgan interrupted, pointing to a group of men with shovels on the far side of the new site before striding off.

  “Latrine? As in—”

  Charlie grinned. “Latrine’s a bush toilet.”

  “Eww.” Gili glared after Morgan. “Bastard. Trust him to give me the shit jobs,” she said without thinking.

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” The Aboriginal foreman clutched his stomach and roared with laughter. When he caught his breath, he wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes and grinned at Gili.

  “Don’t worry about Morgan. He’s just being a shit…” He chuckled again. “He wants you gone, but his heart won’t allow it. He’s just scared.”

  “Wrong, Charlie. He’s only keeping me here so he can stop—” Gili broke off and dragged in a deep breath. “You know why I’m here. I have to find that opal.”

  “Too right you do, Missy.”

  Gili frowned and opened her mouth, but Charlie cut her off with a shake of his finger. “That’s your destiny. If that silly ass Morgan wasn’t such a bonehead, he’d help you with it.”

  “Hang on. Morgan’s worried about the opal leaving Australia. He’s just trying to protect it.” God, she couldn’t believe she’d just defended him. She lowered her head into her cupped hand. “This is totally crazy.”

  “Not crazy. Fate. But that boy won’t listen to me. You need to give him a shake up.”

  Charlie wandered off towards the Aboriginal village, stopping at the last moment. “Oh, and that opal? Ain’t leaving these shores. Now come on, forget the latrines. We’ve got gunyahs to make.”

  “Gunyahs?” Gili shook her head again and trailed after him. By the time she caught up with him, he was talking to Narri.

  Narri turned to her. “Forget that old Morgan for now. We gonna teach you to make a bush shelter, Gili lubra.”

  Gili shook her head. She’d hazard a guess that Charlie had told Narri about her little set-to with Morgan. Nothing like letting the whole world know.

  “See those stringy-looking trees out there?” Narri pointed off into the distance. “They’re Mulga trees. We gonna use their limbs to make the frame for the gunyah.”

  She bent and grabbed a sturdy branch with a forked tip and held it vertically in front of her. Gili followed her lead and lifted another so it, too, stood upright.

  “Normally, we just brace them against each other, but with all the kids comin’, we gonna dig ‘em in.”

  Narri slid the end of the branch into the prepared hole. Then she used her bare foot to push the dirt in before stamping it down to pack it tight, motioning for Gili to do the same on her end.

  “Need a hand there, ladies?”

  Gili twisted her head to find a man dressed in jeans and khaki shirt, felt hat on his head, standing behind her. His darkly tanned skin showed he spent a lot of time outdoors. He tipped his hat back and grinned at her.

  “Hah, sometimes these white fellas handy after all.” Narri chuckled and pointed to another branch. “Now, John, you stop eyeing off Missy Gili and lift the top on for us.”

  John winked at Gili, then grabbed another branch and balanced it between the two forked poles. After that, he placed smaller, leafy branches so they leaned against the central frame, creating a dome-like shelter. “If yo
u want to grab some of the bark and start packing the gaps, I’ll finish up out here.”

  Gili looked at the pile of branches and foliage beside the gunyah. She spotted the large strips of white-grey bark and separated them out. They were soft and pliable and she had no trouble draping them over the structure and filling in any gaps. She breathed in, the aroma catching in the back of her throat. “They smell like—”

  “It’s eucalyptus,” John said. “From the Eucalyptus Gum tree. Lots of them around here.”

  He stepped back and surveyed their work. “So what do you think? Reckon you could have lived in one of these?”

  She dropped to her knees and crawled into the structure. It wasn’t large, but would certainly hold three adults fully stretched out. The bark and branches had blocked out all light and the resultant shade was a blessing in the harsh Australian sun.

  John slithered in beside her and sat with his legs crossed. “Not bad if you need somewhere to stay for a night or two.”

  “What about rain?”

  “The natives pack them with mud. When it dries, it’ll keep out most of the rain, unless it’s a downpour and then nothing works. Mostly, the gunyah was a temporary shelter; easy to build and easy to pull down when the natives wanted to go walkabout.”

  “Walkabout?”

  “Australian History 101. Here we go.” He gave her a quick grin. “A walkabout used to be something all Aboriginal adolescent males had to go through. They had to live by themselves in the bush, sometimes as long as six months. They were supposed to trace the paths their ancestors took. Kind of like a rite of passage into adulthood.”

  Gili rested back on her elbows, feeling more relaxed than she had since she’d arrived in Australia. There was no conflict, no tension, with John. He was just a nice man. One she wouldn’t mind having as a friend.

  “You said ‘used to be’ so I’m assuming that’s not what it means now.”

  John chuckled. “Now it refers to the Aboriginal tendency to just get up and go when the mood takes them. I guess you could call it going bush.”

  “Jooohn, where are you?”

  A whirlwind erupted through the front of the gunyah, morphing into the tangled limbs of a small child. He threw himself at John and knocked him on his back, little arms tight about John’s neck and his smile flashing white against his dark face.

  “Hey, hang on there, mate. You’re choking the life out of me.” John laughed as he set the child on his feet in front of him. “Where are your manners, buddy? Say hi to our guest. Gili, this little rascal is Piri.”

  Gili grinned at the child. He couldn’t have been more than five or six at most. “Hello, Piri. I’m pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand and he took it, pumping it up and down.

  “Hi, Gili. Nan told me to come see if you needed a hand.” He puffed out his chest. “I gotta look after you.”

  “Well, that’s very nice of you, Piri. I’m sure there are lots of things you can teach me about living in the Australian bush.” She raised her eyebrows and glanced across at John. “Um, who’s Nan?”

  “Piri is Narri and Charlie’s grandson and my best mate, aren’t you, scamp?” John grabbed the child and pulled him into his lap, tickling him on the stomach.

  Piri’s happy laughter filled the shelter. Gili couldn’t help but grin. Then Piri reached out and clutched at her, pulling himself onto her lap to get away from John. Before she knew it, Gili was involved in a game with both John and Piri, rolling in the dust as they tickled each other.

  “Get your butt out here, John. I don’t pay you to cavort with some fast city chick who decides she wants to slum it with the local boys.”

  When she heard Morgan’s bellow, a burst of anger slid through Gili’s veins and lodged in her chest. Fast city chick?

  Why the hell did he say that like she was some dirty piece of garbage? Damn him, where did he get off talking about her like that? Trust him to spoil what had been a delightful interlude mucking about with Piri.

  With a grimace, John scrambled out of the gunyah and faced Morgan. “Sorry, boss. I was just playing—”

  “I know who you were playing with,” Morgan snapped. “How about you get back to work? There’s still a hell of a lot to get done before we’re finished today.”

  “Sure thing, Morgan.” John sketched a salute and took off.

  Piri’s hand clutched in hers, Gili crawled out of the shelter. She bent and gave the little boy a hug. “How about you go see if Nan needs you for anything?”

  Once Piri had taken off, Gili turned to Morgan. “Did you have to speak that way in front of the child?” She shook her head. “You know, you really are a—what is it the Aussies say?—a prick at times.”

  He snorted. “Better a cockhead than a sl—”

  She stepped closer and thumped him on the chest with her clenched fist. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.”

  “Hey, if the cap fits—”

  He broke off and moved away from her, dragging off his hat and running his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

  The apology didn’t appease Gili. “You’re damned right it was uncalled for. What the hell is wrong with you today? Last night—”

  He jammed the hat back on his head. “Last night was incidental, just one of those things. As far as today goes, leave my men alone. I won’t have them distracted from their work.”

  Incidental? Gili closed her eyes and dragged in a deep breath. How dare he relegate last night’s lovemaking to the realms of a minor occurrence? “I screwed you so now I want to do all your men as well, is that it?”

  He chose not to answer. Simply raised his eyebrows and grunted at her.

  Arrogant ass.

  The fire in Gili’s chest spread out and encompassed her whole body. She curled her hands into fists, the breath catching in her throat as she fought for control. For the first time in her life, she wanted to do someone a physical injury. Not just anyone. Morgan bloody Hunt.

  She stepped up, nose to nose with him, invading his personal space so he knew how angry she was. She opened her mouth to spew vitriolic abuse at him and then closed it with a snap.

  Boy needs a good shake-up.

  Charlie’s words rolled through her brain, giving her pause. The old Aboriginal had intimated Morgan was scared. Of her? Or maybe of letting her in? Hmm… possibilities.

  Tilting her head, she stared at him. The brim of his hat shadowed his upper face, but left the rest visible. His lips were a hard, tight slash. A nerve ticked in his jaw, giving a clear indication of the state of his emotional upheaval. Anger? Or something else? It was time to find out.

  She ran her gaze over the rest of him. The work-shirt he wore hugged his washboard abs, the buttons straining against the width of his chest. Tight denim jeans moulded his muscular thighs. She almost wished he would turn around so she could check out his rear end. She’d always been a sucker for a nice tight butt.

  Hands braced on his hips, legs set slightly apart, he looked like a force to be reckoned with. And yeah, baby, she was about to do some reckoning.

  She was tired of him treating her like a pariah. If it was the last thing she did, she’d make him sit up and take notice. She owed him that after his treatment today.

  Tension snapped between them, so thick Gili swore she could taste it. Her anger had morphed into a degree of sexual excitement that was difficult to contain. There was only one thing to do.

  She leaned in so her breasts rested against his chest. As close as she was, she couldn’t miss the tightening of his muscles. She wanted to crow, but managed to keep her face straight.

  Tipping her head back, she glanced up at him under the shadow of his hat. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this all sounds a bit like a jealous lover worried about his woman showing attention to another man.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped.

  With a provocative grin, she raised one hand and ran the tip of her finger down his cheek and acr
oss his top lip. “You worried about what I might get up to with John? Maybe you figure you’re missing out on something. After all, last night was pretty quick, given how hot we were for each other. No time for any of the preliminaries.”

  He stepped back a pace, but she followed him, maintaining body contact. “Of course, if I had to do it over again, I would have approached it differently.”

  He snorted. “Oh yeah? And just what would you have done, Miss Smarty Pants?”

  She paused, gathering her thoughts. Before she could say a word, he laughed, the tones fraught with derision. The sound bounced through Gili and made her see red.

  Damn the cocky bastard. He really does need to be taken down a peg or two and I am just the girl to do it.

  She reached up and slipped her hands around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. With a slight smile, she swiped the tip of her tongue along his jaw. “Hmm, salty, hot, with just a hint of five o’clock shadow. Do you know how sexy that is?”

  She moved closer still, until her thighs aligned with his. She nibbled along his chin before sliding down to lick and nip at his collarbone.

  “Delicious.” She laved the love bites with a sweep of her tongue.

  Morgan gripped her by the upper arms. “Gili, you’re playing with fire here.”

  “Oh, I do hope so. I’m just in the mood for a little burning.” She eased her hands from around his neck and walked her fingers down his chest. When she reached the first button on his shirt, she flicked it open. Then the next…and the one after that.

  “Of course, it doesn’t stop there. I’d want you so hot you’d be begging me to do you, but first things first.”

  Her hands shook slightly as she spread open his shirt. Swooping, she laid a string of kisses across his chest, from one side to the other. When she reached each nipple, she tongued it, flicking and sucking until it was a hard little bead.

  Morgan groaned, the sound dredged up from deep in his chest. He tightened his grip on her arms. She thought he’d push her away, but all he did was hold her in place, his heart thundering under the press of her lips.