Chicago and her previous life seemed far away as insects began their night songs, filling the air with their musical clicking and whirring. At the moment the world seemed to exist in sum and total of Jesse, herself and the approaching night.
She had been acutely conscious of Jesse throughout the course of the afternoon. His hand holding hers as they’d hiked had stirred a hunger inside her, a hunger she knew couldn’t be satisfied with the steak he’d prepared.
She wanted to taste his kiss once again. It was a foolish desire and she knew it. What possible good could come of kissing Jesse? She had no intention of staying in Mustang. Besides, she didn’t trust her own reasons for wanting Jesse.
Did she want him because she was falling for him? Or were her reasons more complex than that? He had come to represent safety to her, safety in a world that was frightening and fraught with danger and uncertainty.
Was she mistaking her gratitude for everything he was doing for her, for something more? Was she mistaking gratefulness for desire?
“Have you thought any more about the case?” she asked, eager to divert her attention from her own inner turmoil.
Jesse sighed, and in that sigh she heard his deep frustration. He sat next to her on the log. Although they were in no way touching, she felt as if he touched her with his very nearness. “Off and on throughout the day, but nothing is clear. What bothers me is that I know most of the people in Mustang, and I can’t imagine any of them kidnapping or raping anyone.”
“Is it possible Casanova is a drifter? Somebody who doesn’t live in Mustang and maybe has moved on?”
“I wish, but I don’t think so.” Again he sighed, and Allison felt the desire to take him in her arms and hold him until his despair was gone. “This man seems to know too much about his victims…that they were single and lived alone.”
“Tell me again all the details about the victims and the crimes. Maybe something will come to you as you repeat everything, or maybe I’ll hear something that might help.” She was anxious to keep her mind on anything other than Jesse and how much she’d like to lure him into their tent and make love with him.
“Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Absolutely.” She took the last bite of her steak, then placed her plate on the ground next to her feet.
As he spoke, telling her all of the details, Allison tried desperately to focus on his words.
Just for a moment she’d wished to see his face. She wanted to see the sparkle in his eyes, wanted to view the tiny lines that radiated out from them. She’d like to observe his expressions, and more than anything she wanted to behold the glory of his smile.
Perhaps fate was being kind by not allowing her to see him. This way when she returned to Chicago, she’d have no visual memories of him to torment her.
“At least with your deputies driving by the kissing tree at night, there haven’t been any new incidences,” she said when he’d finished.
“Yeah, but what worries me is that I believe it’s just a matter of time before he figures out that deputies can’t be at the tree all the time. I just don’t have the manpower to keep the tree under surveillance twenty-four hours a day, and every night there are several windows of opportunity for this creep.”
“You said the women were all about the same age. Could that be a clue?”
“Sure, although it could mean a number of things. It could be that the perpetrator, for some reason or another, is only interested in victims in that age range. It could mean the perpetrator himself is about that same age. It could mean a hundred different things, but it’s not a clue that gives me much help.”
“And he left no actual physical evidence behind.”
“None. But if Casanova is the one who raped Maggie, then he might have made his first mistake. I know now that whoever raped Maggie has AB blood, and with DNA testing we can use that information to convict him. The only problem with that is we have to catch him first.”
Allison reached out and found his hand on the log next to hers. She covered it with her own. “You’ll get him, Jesse. I have all the faith in the world in you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. That and a dollar might get me a cup of coffee, but not much else,” he replied, a touch of humor lightening his voice.
Allison released his hand, not because she wanted to, but because she didn’t want to. Instead she held her hands out toward the warmth of the fire and for a few minutes they fell into an easy silence.
She could easily imagine the darkness of night closing in around them, the firelight casting deep shadows and providing an immediate circle of light that shone only on the two of them. There was something intimate in the setting.
There were no other people nearby, no watchful eyes, no gossiping tongues, and the knowledge that they were so utterly alone added to the aura of intimacy.
“What kind of a moon is out there tonight?” she asked.
“Almost full, but not quite,” he replied.
“I must confess, I’m quite disappointed.” She cast a teasing smile in his direction.
“Disappointed?”
“I thought here in Camelot the moon would always be a big, fat, full one.”
He laughed, and the sound sent a ripple of heat through her. “Actually, Camelot enjoys a regular moon, with all its phases. A full moon every night would be boring.”
“And we can’t have boring in Camelot, right?”
“Right,” he agreed.
Again they fell quiet. The fire popped and crackled, a sound Allison found oddly pleasing. She drew in a deep breath, enjoying the scents of the night, the surrounding woods and the fire.
She was more relaxed than she could remember being in a long time. The day of simply enjoying nature had produced a sense of peace that had been sadly lacking for the past weeks.
“You know what I like about you?” Jesse asked suddenly.
She looked in his direction with surprise. “No, what?”
“You don’t seem to feel the need to fill every silence with chatter. That’s a nice quality to have.”
“When you live a lonely life, you get used to the silence.” She frowned. “I don’t mean lonely, I mean I spend a lot of time alone.”
A Freudian slip? With each day that passed she gained more objectivity about the life she’d left behind, and she realized that life had not been as wonderful as she’d once convinced herself it was. But, good or bad, it had been her life…a life snatched away by violence. Would she even get it back?
She released a deep sigh. “Every time the phone rings, I think it’s going to be Kent Keller or Bob Sandford telling me they’ve caught the bad cops and I can go home.”
“I’m sure you’re anxious to get back.”
“It’s not that.” She once again held her hands out toward the warmth of the fire. “I just keep thinking that when I know the guilty cops are behind bars, when I know none of them can get to me, then my sight will return.”
“How do you know that? What if it doesn’t?” His questions hung in the air, unwelcomed in the possibilities they yielded.
“It will.” She said the words firmly, refusing to consider any other likelihood. Then, desperate to change the subject, she smiled. “So, now that we have all that out of the way, let’s talk about what else you like about me besides my ability to appreciate silence.”
He laughed and shifted positions and his thigh came to rest against hers. “Leave it to a woman to try to wheedle compliments from a man.”
“Leave it to a man to force a woman to have to wheedle compliments from him,” she countered. She wished he’d move his thigh, yet hoped longingly he wouldn’t move.
There was a long pause. “I like the way your hair reflects the glow of the fire.” His fingers lightly touched a strand of her hair, and she suppressed a shiver that threatened to race up her spine.
He cleared his throat and jumped up. “How about some dessert? I brought marshmallows to roast over the fire.”
&n
bsp; “Okay,” she replied, disappointed that he’d distanced himself from her. “I don’t think you want me with a stick around the fire. How about you roast them and I’ll eat them?”
“It’s a deal,” he said.
Allison heard an underlying tension in his voice, a tension she felt in the very pit of her stomach. She could identify her own…desire. Was it possible he felt the same way?
The shiver she’d worked so hard to suppress broke free and shimmied up her spine as she thought of the two of them indulging their desire for each other.
“One marshmallow coming up,” he said. “Are you ready?”
She could tell he was mere inches in front of her by the immediate nearness of his voice. “Ready,” she replied.
“Open your mouth.”
She did and he fed her the warm, sweet treat. As her tongue touched the tip of his finger, heat suffused her. He pulled his hand away as if she’d bitten him.
Again heat swept through her, along with a bit of elation. It wasn’t just her. He felt it, too—the energy, the force of magnetism between them. She didn’t just imagine it; it wasn’t something she alone experienced.
“Could I have another one?” she asked.
“Sure.” His single-syllable reply transmitted a wealth of tension and Allison reveled in it. He wanted her. She knew it and it filled her with the rush of luscious anticipation.
“Here you go.” His voice was deeper, more husky than usual.
Allison opened her mouth, and at the same time placed her hand over his so he couldn’t withdraw from her before she was ready. He hissed inward as her tongue lathed his captured fingers.
“Cecilia, you’re treading on dangerous ground,” he finally said. The warning she heard in his tone thrilled her.
“Hmm, I hope so,” she replied, then released his hand and stood, praying he would take her in his arms and kiss her until her head spun and her knees buckled.
To her dismay, he retreated. “I think it’s time we call it a night,” he said, and she could tell from the direction his voice came that he had moved to the opposite side of the fire from where she stood.
The anticipation, the thrill she’d felt only a second before seeped out of her. Had she mistaken his reaction? Damn her blindness.
It was so hard to figure out thoughts and feelings without being able to see a person’s expressions. If she could look into his eyes, would she see the flames of desire…or mere indifference? Or worse, pity for the poor blind woman who had the hots for him.
Weariness replaced everything else. “Yes, yes, I’m tired,” she agreed.
She jumped as his hand touched hers. She hadn’t been aware of his approach. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll get you settled in, then I’ll take care of banking the fire.”
She nodded, allowing him to lead her, like he would a docile child, past the fire to where the tent stood. He released her hand only long enough to unzip the flap, then he helped her into the small confines.
He helped her locate her sleeping bag. “Will you be okay while I take care of the fire?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied. She heard him leave the tent and lower the flap behind him. For the first time since coming to Mustang, she felt utterly alone.
She climbed into the sleeping bag and instantly realized she’d be more comfortable if she’d take off her jeans. She kicked them off, folded them up, then placed them near her pillow where she could grab them first thing in the morning.
The ground beneath her was hard and uncomfortable, but no more uncomfortable than the ache in the pit of her stomach—an ache of unfulfillment.
What was wrong with her? What was it about Jesse that had her thinking such crazy thoughts?
She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to forget that the fire she really wanted Jesse to bank was right here in the tent.
Jesse stared at the dying embers, wishing the flames inside his gut would die the same sort of unremarkable death.
Cecilia had stirred a hunger in him of mammoth proportions, and he didn’t quite know what to do about it. He wanted to be an honorable man. Her care and well-being had been entrusted to him. But the thoughts skittering through his head were distinctly dishonorable. Rather, they were wild, and hot and wonderful.
He kicked dirt over the last of the fire, then sank down on the log and stared up at the moon. He knew what he was doing—stalling…biding time…waiting to get his emotions under control before he climbed into that tent with Cecilia.
A wave of heat threatened to consume him as he thought of the way her mouth had felt wrapped warmly—wetly—around his finger. It had been the single, most sensual act Jesse had ever experienced, and it had nearly undone him.
He’d seen the passion in her eyes, felt her need for him, and he wasn’t sure if he was a fool or a hero for reining her in, for detouring the situation out of the danger zone.
Would he be taking advantage of her if he made love to her? Granted, her personal life was in turmoil and she had suffered enormous losses. But he and Cecilia were both adults; they both knew the score.
It wasn’t as if he’d be seducing her. Hell, if anything, he thought she might have been trying to seduce him.
He stood, tired of his thoughts, tired of the torment. She’d probably fallen asleep by now, any crazy moment of desire gone and forgotten. He lifted a kerosene lantern, checked the fire one last time, then headed for the tent, intent on going right to sleep.
The first thing he noticed when he entered the tent was her jeans neatly folded next to where she lay. Instantly his mind produced a picture of her long naked legs.
He tripped over his sleeping bag and muttered a low curse. This whole camping trip had been the worst idea he’d ever had. At least he was grateful she was turned away from him, her hair a dark spill against the red sleeping bag.
He sat down on his own bag and took off his boots, then shucked his jeans and T-shirt. He never slept in more than his briefs and he wasn’t about to change his habits now.
He got into the sleeping bag and turned off the lantern, instantly plunging the interior of the tent into complete darkness.
It was difficult to tell if she was really sleeping or not. With her head turned away from him, he couldn’t hear the rhythm of her breathing to know for sure.
Willing his body to relax, he drew in several deep breaths, wondering how it was possible for Cecilia’s scent to overtake the entire space. The feminine, floral scent invaded his head and caused the coil of heat to return to his stomach.
He didn’t know how long he lay there, thought he might have fallen asleep for a few minutes, when Cecilia started to moan. The moans were soft, but filled with anguish and he could hear her thrashing about in the confines of her sleeping bag.
She was having a nightmare. “Cecilia,” he said. She didn’t respond to him, but continued to moan in torment.
He sat up and lit the lantern, then leaned over her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Cecilia, wake up,” he said more sharply as he gave her a little shake.
Her eyes fluttered open, their green depths holding remnants of fear. “Jesse?” she whispered.
“You were having a nightmare,” he explained.
“Yes, now I remember.” Tears welled up in her eyes, a mist that made them all the more luminous. “I was so frightened, and so alone. Hold me, Jesse.” She curled her arms around his neck. “Please hold me. I’m scared. I’m so scared of the dark.”
He gathered her in his arms, secure in the fact that nothing would come from a comforting embrace. They were each in their own sleeping bag, mounds of material keeping the embrace from being too intimate.
She clung to him, her face buried in the hollow of his throat. Jesse was in complete control until she pressed her lips against his neck and that single, simple act made his control snap.
With fire in his veins, he took possession of her mouth, kissing her with the depth and desire he’d wanted to for the past week.
She retu
rned the kiss with the same kind of ardor, her mouth opening to willingly invite him to explore. His hands tangled in her hair as her hands wandered the wide expanse of his back.
She tasted of marshmallows and desire, of honey and heat, a heady combination that sizzled through him. His tongue danced with hers, advancing then retreating, heightening the pleasure of the kiss.
He was lost in her and didn’t want to be found. The sleeping bags, that only moments before had been a measure of safety and security, now became nuisances, barriers that kept him from fully touching her.
When the kiss finally ended, her breathing matched his, ragged and uneven. He pulled away, some semblance of control returning. “Cecilia, this isn’t a good idea.”
“Why?” She sat up and shoved a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want you to hold me in your arms, make love to me. We’re both adults. I’m not asking for you to kiss me beneath the kissing tree and make a forever vow. All I want is tonight.” To punctuate her sentence, she pulled her T-shirt over her head and tossed it aside.
Jesse’s breath caught in his throat as his gaze hungrily devoured the sight of her. The wispy, lacy bra did little to cover her breasts, and he could see her nipples, taut and pink beneath the filmy material. His response was immediate and visceral.
He unzipped his bag at the same time she kicked free of hers and suddenly they were skin against skin, bare legs tangling together as they deepened their kiss once again.
All thought of right or wrong was gone. This was right. Everything inside him told him making love to Cecilia at this moment in time was right.
“Do you have the lantern on?” she asked breathlessly.
“Yes.” His reply was just as breathless.
“Please turn it off.”
“But I want to see you,” he protested.
“Then see me through touch, as I see you.”
He hesitated only a moment, then did as she bid, plunging them into darkness. Again they found each other, needing no light to resume the heated caresses, the hungry kisses they craved.
Jesse’s mouth left hers to trail down the side of her neck. She moaned, a deep, guttural sound that stirred him as his hands covered her breasts. He rubbed his fingers across her nipples, felt them pressing against the bra with urgency. She arched against him, emitting another deep moan, and Jesse felt as if he might explode.
Imminent Danger Page 10