He stretched the kinks out of his spine. Getting to know Jacqueline felt like being whirled inside an emotional tornado.
Jacqueline’s brow furrowed in concentration, as she began shaping the remaining hair. He wondered if she had special feelings for him. He’d thought so until he saw how good she was to Capolucho. Link surged to his feet. “I’m going to clean up and wash my hair.”
Capolucho grunted, but Jacqueline ignored him. Link stomped away. Dunking his head in the icy river took his breath away. There was no reason for Jacqueline to give him special attention. Still, he despised not being first. Loathed that he didn’t know how she felt. Detested that he couldn’t understand his own mind or actions when it came to her. Link worked the shampoo into his hair, rinsed it and took a sponge bath. His teeth chattered so hard that he was afraid he would crack the enamel. Then he slipped on a clean pair of sweats.
Walking back to the campsite, he reflected that loving someone was never easy.
25
As the sun touched the western horizon, a mystical shimmering light spread out over the land. Jacqueline sat on a blanket watching the display, her heart expanding with pleasure as radiant salmon-colored rays uncurled over the frozen tundra like a benediction. When the bottom of the sun slipped below the tree line, Link strolled toward her; the departing light formed a halo around him, making him look like an enchanted being.
She sighed. It wasn’t fair; when she wore a sweat suit, she looked shapeless, but when Link wore one, it accentuated each muscle of his magnificent body. Quickly, she shoved the thought aside and looked away.
Link stopped a foot away from her. His bare feet remained motionless on the permanently frosty ground. She looked up. There was a strange gleam in his eyes, which seemed to be kindled by an inner blaze as strong and hot as the departed sun. His gaze centered on her face, caught her attention and held it.
Heat poured through her from head to toe.
No one had ever looked at her with such intensity. Her skin tingled. Her heartbeat accelerated, then began to beat a wild cadence as Link knelt in front of her and lowered his head, and the heat intensified so much that a kernel of apprehension sprouted. She tore her gaze from his when she realized she couldn’t think straight.
His palm gently caught her chin and brought her close, then Link’s lips met hers in a gentle possessive kiss. Feelings, hot and primitive, ignited inside her. Jacqueline wrapped her arms around Link’s neck.
Link groaned softly as he shifted closer to her.
Jacqueline’s body turned into a shimmering torrent as he deepened the kiss. Nothing had ever felt so good, so right. In fact, she’d never felt such intense, all-consuming emotions. Her hands caressed his strong back. Link mirrored her movements.
Link groaned as he tightened his hold. Abruptly, he stiffened, then released her and moved away.
Resentment boiled within her. Link was no different from Adam. The moment she responded, and her body began to cry with need, it was over. Poof. One minute hot need, the next frustrated emptiness.
“I’m sorry,” said a voice behind her. Jacqueline stiffened with embarrassment when she realized they had an audience. “I was just getting a drink of water.” Capolucho’s face appeared crimson in the fading light. He shifted uncomfortably, and reminded her of a little boy, who had been caught playing a prank that he expected to be punished for.
“It’s all right.” Every nerve in her body disagreed, but intellectually, she knew his presence had saved her from making a terrible mistake.
Link settled on the blanket next to her, and wrapped his right arm possessively around her waist.
“I shouldn’t have joined up with you.” Capolucho scuffed his feet. “You wanted to be alone. That’s why everyone else left.”
“No,” said Link. “They left because we wanted to contact you, and figure out what your messages meant, but we didn’t know what to expect.”
The massive eyebrow contracted. “You serious?”
“Yes,” Jacqueline assured him. Her fingers stroked Link’s hand. “I’d had enough of the one-sided exchange.”
“It was the only thing left,” Capolucho muttered. “If I’d known there was two Jackie Cardews, I’d have made sure you were the right one.” He shifted his weight back and forth, faster and faster, giving Jacqueline the odd impression that his movements were a clumsy dance.
“Are you referring to the restraining order?” Jacqueline asked. He hung his head. Clipped, washed and clean, he bore little resemblance to the man who had pursued her, yet he was still reticent.
Jacqueline hoped Capolucho was telling them the truth and that there really had been a terrible mix up, but she still didn’t understand how it could have occurred.
“Sit down.” Link pointed to an unoccupied spot on the blanket. “Tell us about it.”
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t do it, but slowly, Capolucho sat on the farthest possible corner of their blanket. “I told you about the fire,” he said softly. She nodded. “I was in the hospital for months.”
“Burns can take a long time to heal,” Jacqueline agreed.
“My Jackie came to see me once.”
“Only one time?” Link sounded surprised.
He nodded.
“Was she hurt in the fire, too?” Jacqueline asked.
Capolucho shook his head.
“Why only once?” Link asked.
“She had a job offer in the states and needed to leave.”
Capolucho’s eyes glistened. Jacqueline didn’t know if it meant tears were beginning to well, or if the final quivering rays of sunlight were merely reflected in his eyes. “I thought we’d always be together. That’s why I gave her the infernos. We’d talked of marriage, but she wanted to wait.”
“You gave her the infernos?” Jacqueline repeated, feeling as if she were tantalizingly close to finally understanding what this entire fiasco was about.
“How long had she been looking for a different job?” Link asked.
Capolucho shrugged then shook his head. “I didn’t even know she wanted one, or wasn’t happy living in my shack.”
“You lived in a shack, and had lots of infernos,” Jacqueline said.
“It was more like an airy studio with areas for cooking and sleeping.” He shrugged. “I loved the view, the lifestyle.” He cleared his throat. “Then, I wake up in the hospital and my Jackie tells me she’s had enough of slumming with a wannabe-Picasso and living in a hovel.” He studied the rocky ground like a crystal ball would pop up and give him the answers to life’s mysteries.
Link raised a brow. “She waited until you were flat on your back to hit you with something like that?” Capolucho’s head moved in assent. “What a monster,” Link muttered.
Capolucho’s head jerked up. “No. The timing was wrong. That’s all.”
“So, what about the infernos?” Jacqueline tightened her fingers on Link’s shin, warning him to back off. “And how is the restraining order you keep talking about part of this?” she asked.
“I got out of the hospital a couple months later, and managed to convince the cops that I hadn’t set the fire. They dropped the charges against me.” He grimaced. “I don’t think they really cared, since the only stuff that got destroyed was mine. By the time I got out, she was gone. I managed to track her to L. A.” The muscles in his face moved, but no words emerged.
“And?” Link demanded.
“I found her. She still had the infernos and boy was she furious that I’d found her. Said that she didn’t want any part of me, that I’d tried to kill her in the fire.” His eyes bored into Jacqueline’s. “I didn’t. I swore that to her and the cops.”
“I believe you. Now, about the infe— ”
“She said my scars turned her off.” Jacqueline willed herself not to nod in agreement. She felt Link’s muscles contract. “But I loved her, I couldn’t let go. My skin was— ” He gestured silently with his grisly hands. “I might look different on the outside, but I’m
the same on the inside.”
“She sounds shallow.” Jacqueline didn’t add malicious or insensitive.
“I suppose she was, a little,” Capolucho agreed.
“She sounds cruel,” Link said flatly.
Capolucho’s strange, glittering eyes studied him, and then he slowly nodded. “Maybe, but she didn’t start out that way. When we first met, she was different. I don’t know when she changed.”
Sympathy welled within Jacqueline. “Your scars aren’t that bad, but some women can’t stand any blemish.”
Capolucho shook his head. “She loved horror movies, the grislier, the better. Whenever we watched one, they turned her on. I figured she wouldn’t mind my scars.”
A memory that Jacqueline couldn’t quite grasp nagged at the back of her mind.
“She told me it was over,” Capolucho said. “That I was part of her past. It upset me, and I tried to argue with her, to make her see how much I cared.”
“Like writing love letters?” Jacqueline said.
The muscles in his face worked. “She called the cops. Told them I tried to kill her before and had threatened to kill her again. They arrested me.”
“Like I said, Satan incarnate.” Jacqueline swatted Link’s arm for being so rude, but privately thought he was right.
“I spent the night in jail, and at the hearing the next morning, the judge told me that my Jackie feared for her life and had filed a restraining order against me.” A tear trickled down his cheek, but it was quickly lost in his short beard.
“Of all the nerve,” Jacqueline said.
“I tried to phone her, but she kept hanging up on me.” He swallowed. “That’s when I wrote the first poem.” The original messages had been filled with pain and yearning. “Two days later, she moved to Arizona,” Capolucho concluded.
The hair on the back of her neck quivered. “Did you immediately follow her to Arizona?”
“Yep. That was just under three years ago.”
“But I’d been there almost a year before I got the first note.” Heat crept up her neck. “I thought my husband had sent the tulip to me.” She quoted the first note, “Burning desire, heat of the night, passion’s fire, give them back.” She gestured in frustration. “Coincidently the note arrived the morning after my husband and I had our first fight. I forgave Adam, and thanked him for the cute note, but he denied writing the ‘foolish drivel’. I didn’t know what to think. The only explanation I could think of was that Adam had written it, then been ashamed of showing a soft side.”
“No, I wrote that.”
She glared at Capolucho. “You should have signed it.”
Capolucho rubbed his temple with his fist. “So, I got mixed up when she moved.” He stood up and began his odd shuffling dance.
“How?”
He came to stop in front of her. “I don’t know.”
“I started my job in June, right after graduation.”
“Damn,” Capolucho muttered. “I’m sorry for the mix up.”
Jacqueline was too. The tenderness of the earliest notes and the sweetly scented flowers had given her hope that Adam deeply loved her, but couldn’t show it. Now that she knew who’d written the note, she realized her suspicion that Adam had only wanted a good research assistant with benefits was more likely.
Capolucho cleared his throat. “Do you happen to have a sister-in-law or cousin or anyone with your same name?”
She shook her head. “Adam wanted to keep our marriage a secret, so I kept my maiden name.” She couldn’t keep all the bitterness out of her tone. “I wish you’d talked to me instead of leaving the notes, we could have had this straightened out years ago.”
“My Jackie had threatened to kill me if I did. It wasn’t the way she told the judge, though. She always told them I made the threats.”
“Three years is a long time to devote,” Link said.
Capolucho nodded. “I couldn’t find work close by, so I was only able to drive down about once a month.”
It had seemed more frequent than that. “Where did you go?”
“Santa Fe. I went to live with my parents until I got back on my feet.” Capolucho scuffed the dirt. “My mother doesn’t mind the scars; in fact, she tries to smother me.”
“Mothers can be that way,” Link agreed. “Ask my father.”
Capolucho’s eyebrow arched into a J.
“So, now that you know I’m not the right Jacqueline, what are you going to do?”
“I’ll go back to Santa Fe and keep working with my Dad.” He paused. “Try to rebuild my life.” Capolucho shifted his feet. “Forget about ever getting Scorching Strand, the Inferno Series or the rest back. Maybe I’ll try to paint again.” He grimaced. “Just to see if I can, but I’ve got to accept that my Jackie hasn’t been part of my life for years and won’t be.”
“The infernos you talk about are paintings?” Jacqueline asked.
He nodded. “I gave them and some others to my Jackie, but figured that if she’d just lend them back to me, I could get my career back on its feet.”
“They weren’t in the house when it burned?”
“She’d taken them to a framer.”
“What’s your dad do?” Link asked.
“He builds rammed earth houses. It’s hard work, but it hasn’t been that bad. He hated it when I went into art.” He looked at the ground. “Thought it was sissy to want to paint. But I’ve been experimenting with the pours, and he likes the results.” Ray stopped his restless movement. “I just realized that I never stopped being an artist.”
“How so?” Link asked.
“For the past couple years, I’ve mixed the earth we pour. I’ve been adding colors.” His grin was sheepish. “Natural ones from the earth. They form patterns, creating abstract designs in the walls.” His scarred hands moved, delineating peaks and waves.
Jacqueline silently studied Ray and hoped he’d get back to the reference he’d made to scorched strands and infernos, since they’d been the focus of most of his notes.
“I don’t need to paint on canvas,” Ray enthused. “Not when I can build the color into the walls. I’ve got to think this through.” He turned on his heel and walked down to the shore.
As Jacqueline watched him go, she was tempted to run after him and demand answers to her questions. When Capolucho was out of earshot, she leaned toward Link. “He’s the strangest person I’ve ever met. I like him, though. Do you think all artists are like him?”
“Ariel isn’t, but then art is more of a hobby with her.” Link’s left hand moved to trace her arm from shoulder to fingertip. “Want to resume where we got interrupted?”
Did she? Her heart told her that Link appreciated her while Adam had never really cared for anything except his work. Logic told her that all men were essentially created the same and that whatever deficiencies existed was her fault.
Link’s right hand moved up to caress her side. The sensation traveled all the way to her toes. A second kiss would be far too dangerous. In fact, she didn’t know how she’d get any sleep, after the first one. Jacqueline wet her lips. “Link, I won’t lie and say I’m not tempted, but the truth is if we did, I’m not certain I could control things and it’s just not right.” He raised her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on it. Jacqueline felt the tender touch all the way to the soles of her feet.
26
The harsh caw of an arctic raven woke Link from a fitful sleep. As he stretched, he felt Jacqueline’s warmth. A vivid memory of the previous night’s kiss flashed across his memory. He forgot to breathe as he watched the gently undulating nylon ceiling, which reminded him of how Jacqueline felt in his arms. As if reading his mind, she sighed. Her hot, damp breath caressed his shoulder, and then grazed his ear. Chilblains broke out over his body. His lungs burned for air. Link took a deep, shuddering breath. He had to get out of this tent before he did something he’d never forgive himself for.
He turned onto his side and reached for the sleeping bag’s zipper.
As Link sat up, he noticed that her hair was in a wild tangle, which made her appear erotic. He stopped in mid motion. Couldn’t he think of anything besides sex? Why was this his basic response to her? Though everything about Jacqueline seemed seductive, she had a great mind and intellect too. Why couldn’t he focus on that instead of her perfect skin?
Perfect, except for the dark smudges under her eyes. Bruises? Link leaned closer to make sure the dim light hadn’t distorted his observation. It hadn’t. He moved closer, until his finger hovered over the telltale discoloration. The signs of exhaustion were as distressing as black eyes would have been.
She sighed in her sleep. It was the sound of weariness. If she hadn’t gotten any sleep, it was his fault for thrashing all night. He should never have kissed her.
In the past, on the occasions when women had infatuated him, the lustful fantasies had quickly dissolved during the resulting affairs. It was as if having sex revealed how little he had in common with the woman.
Link laid back down, turned his back to Jacqueline, and stared at the tent’s wall. He could still feel heat radiating from her peaceful form, hear her soft sensual breathing, and smell her lemony musk aroma. He felt feverish. Not giving in to temptation had had the reverse effect, this time. Link pressed his fingers to his forehead, but it was cool.
Thank God he wouldn’t have to share a tent with her any longer.
Jacqueline rolled over, wrapped her arm around his waist and snuggled close. The heat against his back pounded desire into every cell. He defined torture as lying in a tent with the woman he loved and resolving to stay celibate.
The spot between his shoulder blades became hot and damp. He told himself it was sweat from the sleeping bag. He knew he was lying, that all he had to do was roll over and start caressing her. Feel her soft, hot skin beneath his probing fingers.
Link stifled a groan and clenched his hands so tight that his nails dug into his palms.
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