by Kara Lennox
“And I repaid your kindness by kidnapping you. Makes me a pretty big jerk.”
But she didn’t think he was jerk. This whole episode in her life was getting weirder by the minute.
Now the wood smoke was really burning her eyes. She closed them so they would stop stinging.
“How did you get to the States?” he asked. “Last I heard, it’s not so easy to emigrate from Cuba to the U.S.”
“I’m done talking about me,” she said gruffly, afraid of revealing even more of herself. Every little piece of herself she handed him gave him power over her. “Maybe I’ll go to sleep now. Maybe things won’t look quite as bleak in the morning—for either of us.”
“That’s a load of crap, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t know it. My mother is quite fond of saying how any situation will look better in the morning. Things always look bleaker in the night, when it’s dark and you’re tired. In the morning, the sun is rising and you have a fresh day ahead of you, a chance for a fresh start.”
“Elena, I can’t undo this.”
“Maybe you can,” she said drowsily. “Wait and see.”
* * *
EARLIER, ELENA HAD SAID sleep would be impossible, but she dropped off quickly. For a long time, Travis stood guard over her, as he’d promised, protecting her from imagined dangers. He watched her sleep; she didn’t stay in a little ball like she’d started. She tossed and turned and thrashed, throwing the sleeping bag off, then burrowing underneath it, sprawling like a hedonist, then curling up again.
Eventually she ended up using his thigh as a pillow. She would probably be horrified to find herself in such an intimate position with him, but she looked comfortable, so he left her there, despite the fact that her nearness had given him a raging hard-on. It was difficult to look at her, especially in such an unguarded state, without getting aroused.
He desperately needed sleep. The past couple of weeks he’d probably averaged four hours of rest per night as he’d tossed and turned, frustration churning in his gut over his outrage, his feeling of powerlessness and the unfairness of it all.
Especially when the date for MacKenzie’s adoption hearing had been set.
Maybe he could still do something about that, he pondered. Eric’s lawyer had wanted to keep Travis at arm’s length from the criminal case, but that pompous ass wasn’t involved in MacKenzie’s adoption. Travis could go to the trial and speak up about the things he’d seen when he’d made unannounced visits to MacKenzie at her foster home. She hadn’t been neglected in a physical way—she’d always been relatively well-groomed and wearing clean clothes. But the clothes were old, faded and ill-fitting, not the pretty new outfits Eric had bought for her—with Travis’s help—on a regular basis as she grew. The hair ribbons and barrettes he’d given her weren’t in evidence, either. In fact, MacKenzie’s beautiful long hair had been cut short in an unprofessional manner.
More disturbing, though, was that he’d always found MacKenzie sitting alone, usually in some dark corner, clutching a stuffed animal. The other kids in the household would be running around, playing, watching TV, but MacKenzie didn’t interact with them—or with anyone—and the parents didn’t care. They always had some explanation about where the new clothes had gone—they were in the laundry, or MacKenzie had worn old clothes because she’d been making mud pies.
Travis suspected the new clothes—which had come from a high-end store per Eric’s instructions—had been sold.
He deliberately turned his thoughts away from MacKenzie, because he always felt furious if he dwelled on the situation, and fury wasn’t going to serve him right now. Emotions out of control were what had landed him in this situation.
Instead he thought about Elena, a much more pleasant subject. He wanted to know how she’d come to America, but she apparently didn’t want to talk about it, and he had to respect her privacy. He, too, didn’t like it when people poked and prodded him about private stuff, like some of the things he’d seen when he was in the army.
Elena looked almost like a child, so innocent and pure. He touched her hair, being careful not to wake her. In this light, her hair looked black, but with a few shiny gold highlights from the firelight. When he rubbed a strand between his thumb and finger, it felt soft and slick, full of health and vitality like the rest of her.
He imagined using his fingers to comb through her hair. How would it feel? He’d touched her a couple of times, when he’d lifted her in and out of the truck and when he’d carried her, but he hadn’t paused long enough to catalogue the sensations in a way that he could remember them later.
She chose that moment to move in her sleep, curling up again and abandoning the thigh-pillow. Thank God.
Was she cold? He wished he had another blanket for her. The sleeping bag was an inexpensive one, not meant for cold weather. For him, in this climate, it was adequate. But maybe not for her.
He needed sleep. His eyes involuntarily closed.
After jerking awake a couple of times, he realized he was losing the battle. He lay down on his side of the tarp, trying to take up as little room as possible, and cradled his head on his arm. If he could just catch an hour or two, he’d be okay.
* * *
ELENA AWOKE IN the most deliciously warm cocoon. Still in the grips of the aftereffects of some wonderful dream, she kept her eyes closed and snuggled deeper into the covers and tried to reclaim sleep. But the harder she tried, the more she woke up.
That was when she realized she wasn’t alone in her bed. Her body was plastered against another body—a hard, hot, male body. And she was not in her comfortable bed at Daniel’s, or the squishy double bed of her childhood bedroom, where she still slept sometimes when she visited her parents.
She gasped as her mind flooded with memories. She’d been kidnapped, taken to the woods. She’d gone to sleep curled up a safe distance from Travis, but now her body was draped over his in a more intimate way than she’d ever experienced. She must have unconsciously gravitated toward his heat during the night.
Not that she was totally without experience. She’d gone to college, after all, and she had done her share of experimenting, determined to throw off the ultraprotective restraints of her family and become a thoroughly modern American woman. But she’d never spent the whole night with a man. She’d never been in a relationship serious enough to warrant overnight privileges. Especially since she’d been working for Daniel, she hadn’t had time for men.
She’d had no idea what she’d been missing.
It wasn’t just the feel of all those hard muscles pressed against her. It was also the way he smelled—like pine needles and wood smoke and essence of male. She’d never smelled anything so heavenly.
Weighed down with guilt over her inappropriate feelings, she realized she needed to extricate herself from this situation before he woke. He was still asleep, she fervently hoped. Although the sky was turning from black to gray with the impending sunrise, it was still too dark for her to see his face clearly, but his breathing was slow and even, his body relaxed.
Elena was on her side next to him, her cheek resting on his shoulder, one arm and one leg thrown over him possessively. Her leg was positioned at a very strategic portion of his anatomy, and though he’d remained fully clothed, she could still tell he had an erection.
Lots of men had erections in the morning, or so she’d heard. It was no big deal. But she couldn’t help the little thrill she got out of knowing she had aroused this powerful male animal.
She tried moving her leg first. But as she slowly lifted and straightened it, she realized Travis’s arm was draped loosely around her. Her movements caused him to stir in his sleep, and his grip on her tightened. One of his hands rested on the top of her hip. Her dress had ridden up, and nothing stood between their skins except her thin silk panties.
Her stomach
swooped and she felt hot, deep at the core of her being. What was happening to her? This was not right. She could not be having these feelings for the man who’d committed a serious crime against her.
He was a violent man. A criminal. Her father would kill her if she even dated such a man. Never mind what he’d do if he found out Travis had touched her in any intimate way.
But he hadn’t, she reminded herself. She was the restless sleeper who was undoubtedly responsible for the way their bodies were pressed together like peanut butter on toast. And she was going to remedy the situation.
Moving inch by inch, she finally had her leg free of him. Next she withdrew her arm. If she could just scooch down toward the foot of the sleeping bag, which was resting on top of them like a blanket, she might be able to escape this predicament with her dignity intact.
The second she started moving again, however, his hold on her tightened. “Where ya goin’?”
Oh, mierda, he was awake! Or was he? He was still breathing like he was asleep. Maybe she was some random girl in his dreams.
She tried moving again, but she realized there was no way she could manage to discreetly extricate herself. She gave up. This was ridiculous. None too gently she removed his hand from her back and sat up, throwing off the blanket.
His eyes flew open and he was instantly awake. He sat up, too. “What happened?”
Her face was as hot as the smoldering coals in their campfire. “We moved together. In our sleep. It was very embarrassing and I’m sorry. I was trying to move away without waking you, but I clearly did not succeed.”
He nodded his understanding. There was enough light now that she could see his face. He was blushing. “Ahhh. That might explain the dream I was having.” He flashed a wicked smile, and she knew he wanted her to ask what kind of dream, but she refused to give him the satisfaction.
She was already humiliated. He was making it worse. “Excuse me,” she huffed. “I’m going to find a little privacy.”
“Aw, don’t go away mad. I hope I didn’t take liberties, but honest to God, I was asleep.”
She found her shoes, what was left of them, and stalked away into the bushes, no longer worried about the coyotes. Let them come and eat her. At least it would end her shame.
Men looked at her and assumed she was, oh, what was the expression? Hot to trot? But she was really rather old-fashioned, and she didn’t treat sexual matters lightly.
When she was younger, she and her parents and older brothers had lived in that awful tin shack with thin walls. She had often heard her parents having relations. Sometimes they would talk in low, intimate voices, exchanging words of love and some words she didn’t understand. Sometimes they would laugh in a way they didn’t do outside their bedroom.
Ignorant of this aspect of married life, she’d asked her mother about it. Her mama had explained that what she had overheard was a very special part of being married, and that when she was older and she had a husband, she would understand. Her mother had never made her feel that sex was wrong or bad. More like it was part of a sacred bond.
Though she hadn’t waited until she was married to experience sex, her limited sexual encounters had made her realize that casual couplings and frantic dorm room assignations were a far cry from what her parents shared.
She wanted what they had. It had literally been years since she’d been with a man. She might feel a transient attraction to Travis, but that didn’t mean she wanted to trade sexual banter with him. That simply wasn’t her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN ELENA RETURNED to the campsite, Travis was stoking the fire again. He looked sexier than ever with his rumpled hair and a day’s growth of beard.
Something smelled good. Travis wasn’t just stoking the fire, he was cooking something in the tiniest aluminum frying pan she’d ever seen. Another small pot containing a dark liquid sat in the coals.
“Coffee?” she asked hopefully.
“Probably not the kind you’re used to. Cuban coffee is in a category all to itself. This, unfortunately, is instant.”
“I don’t drink Cuban coffee. Nasty stuff.” But she did drink a pricey blend made from freshly ground beans and filtered water. It was always ready and waiting in the kitchen when she got up. She was spoiled, she realized, although right now she would settle for anything warm that had a caffeine kick. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
He poured some of the dark brew into an insulated coffee cup and handed it to her. “I have some powdered creamer if you’re interested.”
“No, that would just add insult to injury. I’ll drink it black.” She blew on it and then took a tentative sip. “I’ve had worse. What are you cooking?”
“Pancakes.”
“Seriously.”
“I have some of that powdered baking stuff from a box. You just mix it with water.” He used his knife blade to flip the pancake over.
“You can cook,” she declared.
“Nothing fancy. I had to buy groceries and fix meals for Eric and me while my mom worked. I learned we could eat better if I made stuff myself rather than buying frozen pizza and such.”
“That lasagna you served...”
“Yeah, I made it from scratch.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I was trying to maintain my image as a big, bad kidnapper.”
“And big, bad kidnappers don’t wear aprons and whip up dinner. But you don’t care if I know now?”
“Let’s face it, we both know you’re not in any danger. In fact, I’m completely ashamed by what I did. As soon as we’re done eating, we’re going to pack everything up, I’m going to drop you off back where I found you, then I’ll turn myself in. What I did was wrong, not to mention stupid, and I’m sorry.” He looked up at her. “I’m really sorry, Elena.”
She looked away. Her eyes swam with tears. “So you did all this for nothing?”
“It wasn’t going to work anyway. Like you said, Daniel Logan doesn’t respond to pressure tactics. I brought Eric’s case to his attention—that’s the best I could hope for.”
Somehow, this didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t like the idea of Travis giving up. She especially didn’t like that he would go to jail when he hadn’t hurt her, and he’d acted only out of love for his brother and niece.
“Thank you,” she said as he handed her a single pancake. He then poured more batter into the frying pan.
“There’s no butter, but the syrup is there.” He pointed to the platform, where a jug of Aunt Jemima sat.
“Where did all these groceries come from?”
“I grabbed a few cans from that house before we left, and I had a few things in the truck.”
Now that the pancake was slightly cooler, she rolled it up and ate it like a burrito. She didn’t use the syrup because she didn’t want sticky fingers or face, not when there was no way to wash properly. It was pretty tasty. Or maybe she was just really hungry. Half a can of baked beans and a spoonful of chili wasn’t much of a dinner.
They sat on the edge of the platform, finished the simple breakfast and drank coffee while the sun came up and the woods came alive all around them. A light fog had formed during the night, giving everything a misty, magical look. Birds chirped and cooed and cawed; she caught sight of a flash of red flying from tree to tree.
“What are those red birds called? The ones with the pointy heads?”
“Cardinals. They’re all over the place. I hear them calling.”
“I should have figured you would know a lot about birds and stuff.”
He shrugged. “Eric was interested in birds at one time. He taught me the names of a few of the common ones.”
They didn’t talk as they packed up their supplies. Travis shook out the sleeping bag and carefully rolled it up while she folded
the tarp. He packed everything else into the backpack. The last thing he did was pour the rest of their water on the campfire.
“Before we go back...” Elena looked at Travis uncertainly. She felt as though she needed to say something, to let him know she was on his side, even if she didn’t fully support his methods. But the right words wouldn’t come.
“What? Is something wrong?”
“Unfortunately, a lot of things are wrong, and I can’t fix them. But I wanted you to know...” She gave up and instead took a couple of steps closer to him, until they were nose to chin. She stood on her toes and brushed her lips against his.
She wasn’t sure why she did it; maybe because she knew she’d never have another chance.
At first his only reaction was a sharp intake of air. But when she grabbed hold of his shoulders and gave him a proper kiss, teasing until his lips opened, he responded with obvious enthusiasm.
Still, it was a sweet kiss, a tentative exploration. He never touched her with his hands. When she pulled back, he looked as surprised as she felt. Her face suddenly went flush. Why had she done that? What was she thinking?
“I guess you’re not the only one with impulse control issues,” she murmured.
Travis shook his head. “You’re very complicated, Elena.”
With that, they left. Elena felt an inexplicable sense of sadness that they had to go back to the real world. The next few hours were going to be difficult for both of them.
He let Elena ride in the passenger seat this time. “Do you want me to take you back to the Logan place? Or maybe I should go straight to the closest police station.”
“Neither. I want to call Daniel. I’m going to tell him it was all a setup, that I went with you willingly.”