“Bullet,” he said softly.
“A long time ago,” she guessed.
“I was fifteen. Later, I will tell you the story.” His voice was hoarse.
With a daring that seemed shocking, yet terribly exciting, she leaned against him and ran her hand over his chest and stomach. Her touch made him groan.
“Ahhh, Calli, I can’t...” Nick said desperately. “No, I can’t wait.” He pulled her hand away from him and braked. With one hand he steered the Jeep off to the side of the road as much as he could. As soon as the Jeep came to a halt he killed the engine, reached over and picked her up by the waist and brought her across his lap, straddling his hips. Her back was against the steering wheel, pushing her towards him.
With hands that trembled, he took her, right there on the seat, making her cry out her fierce satisfaction.
* * * * *
When their heartbeats slowed, Nick stirred. He opened his eyes. “I thought I would have more finesse than this.”
“I like it that you couldn’t wait.”
His eyes were sleepy, half-lidded. “I wanted it the other way. I wanted you screaming my name, as you writhed beneath me.” He stroked his thumbs over her belly, through the skirt that had slid up to her waist. “I’ll have my way yet.” His lips moved to her chin, searing a moist path over her chin and down her throat, to the well-defined dip between her breasts, just above the St. Christopher medallion. He licked the skin with a murmur of appreciation, then slid his lips up to hers once more.
In the silence she heard a bird coo, somewhere in the trees above them. Her cheek rested against the back of the seat, right next to his head. Her arm was a deadweight. She lifted it enough to cup his cheek and moved her head to kiss the other one.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“I believe I should be saying that,” he returned. His voice sounded raw. He moved so he could turn his head to study at her. This close, his indigo eyes mesmerized her. “We should get off the open road,” he said.
“We should,” she agreed. “Only I think all my bones just melted. You can drive even in this condition?”
“I would not have stopped at all. You pushed good sense from my mind.” He grasped her hips and helped her rise from his lap. He swiveled and placed her in the passenger seat, showing some of the strength promised by his physique.
Calli straightened her skirt and top and settled back in the seat. “This is a busy road?” she asked as he got the Jeep moving once more. She lifted her voice over the wind.
“Pretty busy.”
“How do you pass anyone here?”
“Carefully.”
“Slowly, then?”
“Very slowly. Hang on,” he warned and turned the Jeep into a rough gravel track that seemed to head straight up the side of the mountain. After the initial sharp descent the gradient decreased, although they continued to climb, rounding a dozen hairpin bends along the way.
The Jeep continued to climb, then the road evened out and arrowed straight into the trees, which grew as a shady tunnel over them. Two hundred yards further on the trees thinned out. Calli saw the jagged peak of a mountain ahead. Nick turned the car to toward the mountainside. Then she saw the house.
It was a low thing of glass and thick black timbers, bereft of any adobe and nestled into the trees. Behind the flat roof of the house, she saw a waterfall cascading down the side of the mountain.
Nick pulled the Jeep up at the front of the house, where inlaid cement flagstones led right to the front door. He climbed out and strode around to Calli’s side of the car and opened the door. He scooped her up and carried her towards the house.
He pushed the door open with his shoulder—apparently he saw no need to lock his house up—then they were inside a green oasis with raw terracotta tiles and large walls of glass. She saw nothing else before Nick pushed through another door and placed her on a wooden surface. A table.
He moved around the side of the table and bent and kissed her, while his hand ran across her body.
“You are so beautiful.” His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. “I could explore for a decade and not tire of it.” His hand roamed as he spoke. He stared into her eyes and brushed tendrils of hair from her face. “Welcome to my home,” he said gravely.
She gave a tiny laugh. “This is quite a welcome.”
He smiled. “It is a better welcome than most Vistarians extend and we are known for our warmth and generosity.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she said.
The humor faded from his face. “If I considered myself a superstitious man, I would say you have bewitched me, Calli Munro.”
“You are not superstitious?”
“I thought I was a realist. You are teaching me otherwise.” Before she could respond or untangle his meaning, he hugged her tightly, holding still for a breathless moment. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his scent and the heat of his flesh against her cheek and chest. It was a moment she knew would stay with her forever.
Then he let her go and lifted her up and onto her feet. She sighed at the loss of contact.
He picked up her hands. “Realism says we must eat soon and I’m sure you would sell your soul for a shower, yes?”
“Yes!”
He tugged on her hand. “Come.”
She followed him from the dining room. His wide, bare shoulders were complemented by a lean, muscled back and tight waist and hips. He did not have the distorted size and shape of a dedicated body builder, yet he clearly worked his body hard.
The house was made almost entirely of glass between the black pillars and beams. Natural light flooded the house, warming the tiles underfoot and feeding the tubs of plants.
Nick led her into a spacious bedroom. A thick Persian carpet covered the tiles, and a low bed with a dark green quilt nestled right up against the glass wall. The floor of the room lay at the same level as the ground outside, making the room part of the glade.
On the other side of the room another door was set in the only solid part of the wall. Nick crossed over to open it. A bathroom, she realized, when she stepped inside. It was a bathroom with a difference. The wall with the door held the essential plumbing and equipment—sink, toilet, cabinetry. Opaque glass blocks, that had a showerhead and taps inset, made up the far half of the wall to the left. The rest of the room, all of it, was clear glass walls. Thundering down the mountainside, directly outside the wall, was the waterfall she had seen earlier. It was close enough that spray landed against the wall from the impact of the water at the bottom of the stream.
Nick turned on the shower, then tested the water.
“It’s...stunning,” Calli managed.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I never tire of it,” he admitted. “I built the house with this one room in mind and the rest just formed around it.” He flicked water at her. “Nice and warm,” he promised.
She undid the leather thong that held her braid and shook out her hair.
Nick watched with narrowed eyes. She had seen that expression before, when she had done something that jolted him into a new perspective that gave him pause for thought.
“You look wild, with your hair loose,” he said. “Why do you tie it up all the time?”
“At home, it’s to keep a professional image. Here, it’s because of the color.” She stripped and stepped into the spray of water and gasped at the heavenly warmth.
Nick frowned.
“Too much realism for you, Nick?” she asked.
His frown deepened. “For this moment, yes,” he said. He removed the last of his own clothing and stepped into the water. He wrapped his arms around her and she felt his head rest against hers. He sighed.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t be so practical.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m the fool, trying to leave the world at the door.”
“You can do that,” she assured him. “We can be what we want, no limits, just for this short whil
e and the rest of the world can go hang. Then after, you can get on with your life and I’ll be safely back in the States.”
“Okay,” he said heavily.
* * * * *
Nick left the bathroom before her, explaining that he wanted to start dinner. When she emerged later, wrapped in a big bath sheet, she found her backpack sitting on the end of the bed. Next to it lay a white glossy box.
She walked over to the bed and rummaged through her backpack. She glanced at the box curiously.
“I saw it in my dreams,” Nick said from behind her.
She whirled. He wore blue jeans and a black sweater. Unlike the business suits and shirts she had seen him until now, the sweater emphasized his shoulders.
“What was in your dreams?” she asked.
“The garment in that box. I saw you wearing it in my dream and the next day—the very next day—I saw it in a store window. It would please me if you wore it.”
She opened the box and saw layers of powder blue chiffon and silk. “I thought you weren’t superstitious?”
“Ah, but I am a liar.” He turned and left the room as silently as he had arrived.
Calli dropped her towel and pulled the garment out of the box. It was a cross between a nightdress and evening gown. She couldn’t decide which. The chiffon lay over the top of the silk. She worked her hips into the dress, for it fit snugly and the dress had neither zipper nor fasteners. It was cut on the cross, which gave her the room she needed to get it over her hips. The bias cut also meant it clung. Everywhere. The top was looser and when she slid the straps over her shoulders, the fabric between her breasts hung low. It was low enough it revealed the swell of her breasts. The back of the dress resembled the black lace one she had worn, skimming down in a deep vee to finish just above her buttocks. The straps of the dress crossed her back and attached just above the end of the vee.
The hem of the dress brushed her toes, which Calli found remarkable, for any floor length gown she bought always had to have the hem dropped. Had he seen to that already? She picked up the hem and saw the faint signs of previous stitching.
Yes, someone had extended the hem.
She walked over to the mirror and discovered the silk was so fine and delicate that every rub and swish of the chiffon against it transferred to her skin. As she was naked beneath the dress, the subtle touch was arousing.
She looked in the mirror. The dress outlined her hips, her abdomen and seemed to reveal more of her breasts than it covered. She felt more naked in the dress than she did wearing no clothes at all.
* * * * *
Calli made her way back to the dining room, figuring the kitchen had to be somewhere nearby.
As she dressed, evening had fallen. It was already dark outside the glass walls. The dining room was empty. The door on the other side of the room led to the kitchen, also empty. Good cooking smells came from a pot on the stove. A chopping board, a knife and vegetable scraps lay on the counter.
She went back through the dining area and down steps, where she found Nick looking out through the glass towards the trees. Far to the left, she could see the luminous spray of the waterfall.
“Stop there,” he said, his voice low.
She stopped, realizing he had seen her reflection in the glass. “Why?”
“Straight ahead, next to the tree in front of me. See it?”
She tried to see through the glass. “No.”
“Next to your right hand, the light switch. Turn off the lights.”
She touched the switch and the lights all shut off. She blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness. It wasn’t that dark. The sky was inky blue. The moon was close to full.
She looked at the tree Nick had singled out.
“See the eyes?” he asked.
She looked again. Something moved. Eyes reflected the moonlight back at her. She caught her breath.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Jaguar,” Nick murmured. “I think she lives around here.”
The cat, reassured by the darkness, prowled out from under the tree into the full moonlight. Her black coat shone with indigo highlights that reminded Calli of Nick’s eyes. The cat turned her head, sniffing, scouting her way ahead. She gave a low growl, a clearing of the throat. Even through the glass, Calli could hear the deep rumble.
“She’s beautiful,” Calli breathed.
Then, as if she had reached a decision, the jaguar leapt over the root by her feet and padded away towards the stream.
Nick turned to face Calli. His gaze traveled up and down her body and he drew in a deep breath, let it out.
“It will do?” Calli asked. She brushed at the chiffon.
“You have an aura, standing there in the moonlight. You are glowing.” He moved across the room to come up behind her where she stood on the edge of the carpet. “Did you plan this?” he whispered, his hands sliding around her waist.
“Plan what?”
“To stand before the glass so I could come up behind you. Do you know how I have replayed that moment at Ashcroft’s over and over in my mind? How I have wished it might have ended another way?”
His hands slid up the dress to cup her breasts and she gasped in her breath. “It was one hand,” she whispered.
“Ah, yes.” He cupped her breast. She swallowed hard as low-key pleasure spurted through her. In response, her shoulders straightened and she thrust the breast he held into his hand.
In the glass she saw his black shadow by her shoulder, the dark arm across her chest. He spread his other hand out across her abdomen, splayed flat, possessive.
“More.” Her voice came out weak.
“Mmm.” He kissed her neck, making her shiver. “Much more. Later. For now, I must eat real food.”
Her stomach grumbled and he laughed. “And so must you.”
* * * * *
They were eating—a spicy casserole with a salad and lots of crusty bread rolls and a pale pat of butter—when a quiet tap-tap-tap sounded.
Calli frowned, unsure what she’d heard.
Nick lifted his head and cocked it, his whole body straightened in the chair, alert.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Shhh.”
The tap-tap-tap sounded again.
Nick stood and picked up the jacket slung over the back of the chair next to him and put it on. “Stay there,” he instructed, as he might a child. He left the room, using the archway to the front door. The one he had carried her through only a few hours earlier.
Her body tingled at the memory.
Calli wanted to eat more of the casserole, for her hunger was still not satisfied. It felt like she had not eaten for a month. Only, Nick had taken his jacket with him and she knew it was because there was a gun in it. The knowledge slowed her movements, made the worry return. She listened, trying to hear Nick. As she scooped up another spoonful of the casserole, she heard what she assumed must be the front door open and close. Then nothing.
Several minutes later, the door opened and closed again. Nick returned. He sat and picked up his fork again. “I apologize for the interruption.”
A small chill touched her spine. “What’s wrong? What has happened?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You haven’t taken off your jacket.”
He paused, looking at her as though he weighed his answer, then continued to tear into a bun. “It is cool outside. I want to be warm again before I remove it.”
He wore the same expression when she had seen him in the cell. The cool, assessing look that missed nothing and gave nothing away. His voice was the same rough burr she remembered from the first time they had met. The low, controlled voice of one used to command.
“Bullshit,” she said. “You’re not Nick. You’re...el leopardo. Whoever it is at the door has made you think of Vistaria, your affairs.”
He put down the bun and slid his hand into his pocket. She had seen him make that habitual motion dozens of times and realized he was reaching for the St.
Christopher medallion. It was an instinctive and secret reach for comfort, for reassurance. El rojo leopardo could not afford to reveal weakness or hesitancy.
Yet he had placed the medallion around her neck. He had given it to reassure her.
Yes, Nick was thinking of his country now. The reach for the medal told her that.
Nick withdrew his hand. “You’re very perceptive.”
“Tell me.”
“I would not burden you with my petty concerns.”
“When they trouble you so much, they’re my concerns too.”
He reached out and lay his hand over hers. It felt cool. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought that here we would be insulated from such things.”
“We are, mostly. I don’t pretend to know what your day-to-day life must be like, Nick, but it must be a good deal busier and carry far more interruptions than the six hours I’ve experienced so far.”
“That is true.”
“If this is a petty concern, then share it with me and let me help it go away for a while.”
He shook his head. “I would not sully your thoughts with even a petty Vistarian concern. I would prefer you remain aloof from it all. Untouched.”
“That’s impossible, Nick. I got involved when some asshole blew up a party full of young army officers.”
“Is that your oblique way of reminding me what Vistaria owes you?”
“Hell, no. I just want to help.”
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “A local farmer came here a while ago. He said there are signs of soldiers in the area. Footprints in muddy fields, flocks of birds disturbed. Small things.”
“Isn’t the rebel camp somewhere around here?”
“No one knows. Besides, they stay on the move. The area where we think they are is miles south of us. On the other side of Pascuallita.”
“So who are the soldiers?”
“It may not be soldiers. Or rebels. It could be someone wearing army issue boots. There’s a healthy trade in used and surplus army equipment in Vistaria.”
“Only, someone is hanging around, right?”
“The signs stopped appearing two days ago.”
Vistaria Has Fallen Page 15