Love Under Fire

by Frances Housden

  Her response was spontaneous. “Let me help. What kind of razor do you use?”

  In answer he opened a cupboard and pulled out an old-fashioned cutthroat razor and a can of shaving foam. Her eyes widened and he said, “It has sentimental value. My father used this and it was one of the few things I wanted after he died.”

  She took the razor from him, releasing the blade from its mother-of-pearl sheath. It seemed like forever since she’d watched her father use one of these. His beard had been so dark and strong he’d said nothing else was any use. She stared at Rowan’s jaw. Would she still recognize him when all the gold-flecked hair on his face had gone? Would the unveiling bring back the restrained guy she used to know, in place of the pirate standing before her? Only one way to find out. “Do you trust me?”

  “With my life.”

  “Okay, you lather up and I’ll check if the blade’s sharp.”

  Within five minutes she was asking, “Are you sure you want to lose the moustache?”

  “Positive. Just don’t make me laugh anymore, or you might take my nose with it.”

  “All right, freeze, it’s coming off.”

  Rowan studied his face in the mirror, checking if she’d missed a spot, as she rinsed off the blade. “Stop preening and let me look at you.” She lightly touched the pink scar on his top lip. “Coral, huh? You should be more careful.”

  Her hands followed the trail his had taken. “Okay, you’ll do. You may kiss me now.”

  Rowan’s brows rose at her peremptory command. “What’s wrong, don’t you think I know this workman’s worthy of her hire?”

  He spoke his reply against her lips but the words were lost in the kiss as he lifted her up on to the vanity and lost both of their towels.

  The cold took her breath away as he turned on the spray, but she was getting used to breathtaking, being around Rowan.

  Their lovemaking atop the vanity had been fast and furious and over too soon. She’d wanted to drown in his arms and when she told him he’d lifted her into the shower. Actually lifted her and made her feel weak, trembly and utterly feminine in a way she’d never felt before. He’d said he couldn’t get enough of her and she echoed the sentiment.

  Gradually the water mellowed and soon she had fluffy clouds of shampoo sliding down her breasts and back.

  “Here. Let me do that for you.” His fingers massaged her scalp like an erotic instrument. They found every nerve ending, some she’d never realized existed, and stimulated them until she could have promised to be his slave for life.

  Water fell in screeds as he rinsed her hair.

  “Do you use conditioner?”

  Aw, help! Did that “Yes” sound like begging?

  Regretfully, even conditioner had eventually to be rinsed off. And by then, her legs were like marshmallow. Rowan turned her toward his chest, tucking her hair behind her ears out of her eyes.

  She twined her arms around his waist to support herself and turned her face toward his. Her eyelashes felt thick with water, which would account for the sparkling lights flashing as she blinked to clear them. “Thanks, Rowan. You give good shampoo.”

  “Peaches, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  The husky note in his voice rippled across her skin as she linked her fingers behind him and hung on for the ride. Soon there wasn’t a particle of each other’s body they hadn’t washed or explored and hers vibrated with anticipation as he turned off the shower.

  Twisting her towel into a sarong across her breasts, he turned another into a turban enclosing her hair. The heated mirror hadn’t steamed up and as she rubbed at her hair, she noticed him wince as he stretched out to snag another towel.

  Knowing how sensitive he became if she merely hinted his leg might be bothering him, she kept her mouth shut, but resolved to have a look in the cupboards for a bottle of skin lotion. It would be interesting to see if she could turn the tables and make him melt like chocolate in a hot car.

  He dried himself quickly, slinging away the towel round his hips long before she was finished looking.

  There was a hair dryer built into the fittings and she’d only started to brush out the tangles when Rowan took both items out of her hands and began another sensual encounter.

  Her hair felt glorious. He wanted to run it through his fingers like skeins of silk, but then he also wanted to get her into bed. “Is this all natural?” he asked, gathering in fistfuls of her curls as he checked it for dryness.

  “Every bit, even the color.”

  “Oh, I know that’s natural.” He looked pointedly in the direction of her thighs, as if he had X-ray vision. A quick rush of pink tinged her cheeks. She could still blush. Amazing.

  Jo was a conundrum. One he intended to solve.

  He undid the knot holding her towel, but she grabbed it before it could hit the deck and tucked it back together.

  “No. I want to hold on to this for now. You go through and I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  A protest formed on his lips, but he kept it behind them. He didn’t want her to think she couldn’t have her privacy. If she had woman stuff to attend to it was none of his damn business.

  Waiting, he tidied his clothes away in the locker and folded back the bed. By the time she appeared holding a bottle of skin lotion his eyebrows automatically leaped at the possibilities.

  “I like the way your mind works,” he said, holding out his hand for the bottle.

  She swung away, out of reach. “That’s good to know, because this is for you. Lie down.”

  His imagination ran riot as he followed her instructions. There was no hiding how he felt as she stood beside him pouring lotion onto her palm. The blood flooding his loins turning him into one huge throbbing ache that might just explode the minute she laid hands on him.

  About the only prospect he hadn’t considered was the one where she massaged his leg. Not that it didn’t feel good…more than good…wonderful. Her strong fingers found every single agonizing knot in his thigh.

  Painful or not, it didn’t diminish the overpowering torment burning in his groin. Her fingers had only to brush close to his heat to make him groan. Each time a noise erupted from his lips she glanced up at him, leaving him in no doubt she knew what her ministrations were doing to his libido.

  At last the torture was over.

  Jo capped the bottle and set it on the nightstand.

  He reached out and enclosed her wrist with his fingers. She looked down, her eyes glistening under her lashes as she bathed him in their warmth. “Come over here, peaches.”

  Instead of doing as he asked, she sank to her knees by the bed and her fingers traveled his thigh once more, but without the same intense pressure. Gently they traced the scars where the bullet had emerged. Maybe they wouldn’t have looked so ugly if they could have just sewn him up, but there had been bone to mend and by the time the orthopedic surgeons were finally done with him, the red lines had spread like tentacles across his inside thigh.

  Still, matters could have been worse. A little higher…

  It didn’t bear thinking of.

  Her lips tenderly followed the path her fingers had taken until a fist seemed to reach right up inside him and twist his heart. It gave him the shakes. Overcome, he ground out, “No more, sweetheart. Come up. Come to me.” He held out his arms and she fell into them. Her weight crushed down onto his chest yet her feet lingered on the floor.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He ran his lips down her cheek to the curve of her neck for a taste of the sweetness he knew he would find there. When he spoke it was muffled by her skin. “There’s no way…you can hurt me anymore…than I do now. You may have…noticed, I’m pretty much in agony down there.”

  Jo lifted slightly away from him and her hand moved from his shoulder down to his belly. “I can help.”

  “No! Not that way. It’s not enough. I want to be moving inside you. Pleasuring you. That’s the only way I’ll be satisfied.” He reached between them and rid he
r of the towel impeding the glory of feeling her skin against his. “Come up here beside me and I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.”

  Minutes later, Jo sighed her contentment. She was surrounded by warmth. Rowan’s warmth. His chest lay hard against her back and his arms held her close. She could stay like this forever, with her breasts cupped in his large hands and his mouth, tongue and teeth nipping and nuzzling at her neck and shoulders until he transformed her into a huge bundle of quivering nerves.

  Her moan was long and loud and came straight from her soul as his teeth found the spot again. Her body bucked, her hips wriggling against his long hot length, pressing tight and hard against the crease of her derriere.

  His hand found her belly, holding her still and his moist breath panted in her ear as he sought to control her. The feel of his palm splayed over her, so near and yet so far, had the reverse influence. There was a place deep inside her that needed filling, making her undulate her body trying tempt his fingers to journey farther.

  “Whoa, don’t do that or I won’t be long for this world.”

  “Then touch me, Rowan. Touch me before I disintegrate in your arms from an overdose of anticipation.”

  A deep growl reverberated through his chest. “I can do that for you, peaches. I sure can.” He suited his actions to his words and found her female core with his fingers.

  Peaches. She loved it when he called her that. It made her feel soft and tender and gooey inside as if she might melt all over him.

  “Rowan,” she sighed on a breath that spiraled up from the soles of her feet where her toes curled and released in time with the fingertip circling her femininity. “I can’t wait any longer…I need you inside me like now!”

  He heard her, and thanked providence for his forethought to see to her protection while he was still capable of rational thought. He touched the inside of her knee. “Raise your leg.”

  She let out a long low mewl, half human, half animal and her thighs clenched on his hand.

  “C’mon. That’s it, lift for me, bend your knee.”

  Once she complied, he gripped her ankle, tucking her foot behind his hip. She felt so open. Yet she wasn’t uncomfortable. His finger slipped inside her, testing. She wanted to tell him she was ready, good and ready, but the sensations filling her robbed her of speech. He removed his hand and she felt empty. But not for long. This time he inserted two fingers and brushed between her folds. She let her feelings rip and cried out loud, her belly bucking against his hand.

  The noises she made were like music to his ears. They had a magical effect on his sex. He hadn’t thought it could get thicker or longer but it did, almost jumping out of his skin. As soon as he felt her first ripples circle his fingers he knew if he didn’t take her soon he would miss out on feeling all that hot silk shatter around him.

  “Aaaahh,’ she sighed as he entered, filling her at last.

  The second thrust took her to the top. The third pushed her over. All thought deserted him except one. Jo. His woman.

  He growled his right of possession against her neck, lightly gripping her with his teeth as he thrust one more time.

  The way down was long and scary. But they made it together.

  “Rowan, it’s time to get underway.” His leg came over her thighs and trapped her. Obviously the man was feeling no pain this morning. “Rowan. Turn off the alarm.”

  With a halfhearted grunt he rolled over and grabbed his watch and switched on the light.

  She pushed up and the bedcovers flowed over her knees. Although she was naked from the hips up she felt anything but embarrassed by his perusal of her attributes. Especially as he only opened one sleepy eye. The raised eyebrow told her he liked what he saw, yet the whole gesture, topped by spiky morning hair was so boyish she wanted to hug him as her thoughts fled in another direction.

  She’d always wanted a son—with her upbringing, daughters didn’t rate—and suddenly that son took on Rowan’s features.

  This was dangerous ground.

  Time to move.

  “Come on, Rowan.” The preceding thought, wishful thinking, made her tone brusque. “Only one of us here is self-employed. I have to get back to work.”

  Climbing over him inelegantly, she reached the side of the bed before he stopped her, catching her fingers with his.

  “Shower with me.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not that foolish. Once you get me in there I’ll never get out.” She softened her words with a smile. “Get a wiggle on, skipper. We’ve a lot of waves to slide down before daybreak.”

  By dawn they were already rounding the bush-covered cone of Tane’s Throat and Rowan was on his second shot of coffee. He scowled down into his mug as he remembered Jo’s cheerful smile when she’d handed it to him. Things would feel a whole lot better if she didn’t seem so darn happy to be returning to civilization, such as it was, in Nicks Landing. Even now, she was down below, packing her bags. No argument from him could convince her she’d be safer staying with him until they’d caught the creep who’d sent her the letter.

  The sea was rougher this morning. He heard Jo curse the chop from the foot of the stairs as they left the lee of the volcano. By the time she reached the top he’d smoothed the frown from his features.

  She swapped the mug to her other hand as she braced herself against the locker beside the bridge. “Slopped my coffee,” she explained as she sucked at the red mark forming on the back of her hand. “I should have put cream in it, then it wouldn’t have stung so much.”

  “Go down and run it under the cold tap before it marks.”

  “No, it’ll be okay, honestly.”

  Sometimes Jo could be too stoic for her own good.

  The radio burst to life before he’d had a chance to reinforce his advice. “Coast Guard to Stanhope’s Fancy. Come in.” The message repeated before he could reply.

  “Stanhope’s Fancy, reading you loud and clear, come in.”

  “Do you have Detective Jellic aboard?”

  “Affirmative.” A nasty feeling crawled over his skin as soon as they asked for Jo. What could be so important it couldn’t wait till they tied up at the marina?

  She took over the mike as Harry’s voice came over the speaker. “How far are you from Nicks Landing?”

  She turned to him, her eyebrows raised in a question. “Approximately two hours at this speed, a little less if you want her to get shaken up on the outgoing tide.”

  “It’ll be two hours, Harry. What’s up?”

  “Rocky’s missing. Went out last night and didn’t come back.”

  As Rowan steered them into the marina, Jo reached up till her lips touched his cheek and kissed him. “Thanks for the last couple of days. I’m going to miss you.”

  He took his eyes off the berths for a second and shot her a white-toothed grin. “It’s not over yet, peaches.”

  Her heels landed back on the deck and her stomach rolled over the way it did each time he called her that pet name. If only she felt as confident. Moira and her predictions of trouble were still bugging her. She couldn’t get that red haze on the moon out of her mind. Superstitious? Maybe. It wasn’t her fault she’d been brought up by a grandmother who’d clung to a lot of the traditions from the old country.

  “Yeah, I still have to find Skelton.”

  Rowan put the powerful engines into slow astern then cut them as they glided into their berth. She’d noticed the white-and-blue police car parked at the top of the finger as they approached and it was no surprise to see Harry jump aboard and clip the boat to the floating dock.

  “Quick, give me your handkerchief. I’ve left lipstick on your face.” Her task accomplished, she hurried forward and clipped up the bowlines.

  All three of them were in the lower saloon before Harry explained what all the rush was about. “We’ve found Rocky.”

  Jo heaved a sigh of relief. If anything had happened to Rocky while she was…well, while she and Rowan…it didn’t bear thinking… “Thank goodness.”

/>   “Where’d you find him?” asked Rowan.

  She took her eyes off Harry and turned to him. There was none of the relief she’d felt in his tone. He sounded serious.

  Deadly serious.

  “Young Ginny found him when she took a shortcut through Stanhope Park on her paper route.”

  Ginny found him. This didn’t bode well. She had a sick feeling the poor kid had seen something no child should ever lay eyes on. She would go see the child first chance she got.

  “Come on, Harry,” she said roughly. “Get on with it. Stop dragging it out.”

  “He was naked with one of those symbols drawn across his chest like on the letters. It was centered around a knife wound. The M.E. says the weapon went straight through his heart.”

  Chapter 13

  J o always felt there was something obscene about gazing on the dead before the undertaker had had time to make them presentable. Like spying on people through a gap in the curtains, catching them at something they’d never do if they knew they were being observed. Rocky definitely had that look of being caught unawares. His eyes were wide open, but she couldn’t find any blame in them for her failure to apprehend the fiend responsible.

  A full raft of regrets tossed around in Jo’s troubled mind. Starting its descent into the pits by spoiling her fabulous two days with Rowan, and ending with Ginny having to witness this lewd presentation of death.

  The poor kid would probably have nightmares over it. On Jo’s first murder case, the victim had continued to haunt her dreams for weeks.

  Between the first and last thought, the knowledge that Rowan’s reason for staying had died along with Rocky, almost overshadowed the other casualty, her chance to prove her father’s innocence.

  Now that Rocky was no longer in the land of the living, she doubted she’d ever know the truth.

  The screen had been erected around the crime scene only moments before their arrival and the rest of the small suburban park had been cordoned off. According to Harry, both Bull and Jake had gone to interview Molly.