This Side of Heaven tp-1

by Beverly Barton

  Nate slammed his big fist into his open palm. Cyn jumped at the unexpected noise. "If you can't cancel the picnic, then you'll have to leave when it's over and not come back until you hear from me... or Romero."

  "I'll go, but I refuse to have a bodyguard."

  "We'll see."

  "No bodyguard!"

  "What do I have to say or do to make you understand that if Ryker finds out about you, he'll use you to get to me."

  "Nate..." She reached out for him.

  He turned and walked out of her office, not once look­ing back.

  Sitting down in her swivel chair, Cyn huddled over her desk and buried her face in her hands. She cried then, for Nate, for herself and for two ancient lovers. Someone had murdered the Timucuan maiden and her conquistador. A man named Ryker wanted to kill Nate, and if he knew she was Nate's woman, he would kill her, too. * * *

  Nate spotted the black Cadillac limousine the minute he stepped out of Tomorrow House and onto the sidewalk. Emilio had parked across the street, almost a block away, but in this neighborhood, a limousine stuck out like a sore thumb. Undoubtedly, the man wasn't trying to hide.

  Jaywalking, Nate crossed the street. When he reached the black Caddy, he leaned over and pecked on the side win­dow. Emilio Rivera opened the door and stepped out, his six-foot-eight, three-hundred-pound body towering over a six-foot-two, two-hundred-pound Nate.

  "Has your boss got you following me?" Nate asked, slipping on his aviator sunglasses.

  "I'm keeping an eye on Señora Porter." Emilio glanced across the street, nodding toward the one-story building that housed Cyn's shelter.

  "Tell your boss that I got his message."

  "Ryker is in St. Augustine. Señora Porter will soon be in danger."

  Nate felt the blood run hot in his veins, fear and anger heating it to the boiling point. "Tell Carranza that I will hold him personally responsible if anything happens to Cyn Porter."

  "Such a fierce protector," Emilio said. "Señor Carranza said you would be."

  "Carranza can go straight to hell for all I care."

  Nate thought he saw the corners of Emilio's mouth turn up slightly as if he were about to smile and caught himself. "Si, I will tell him how you feel."

  Nate stood on the street watching the black Cadillac un­til it was out of sight. As soon as he could get to a tele­phone, he was calling Sam Dundee. Like it or not, Cyn was going to have a bodyguard. * * *

  Cyn handed Bruce the plastic bag filled with damp bath­ing suits, then turned to pick up a basket of leftovers from the late-afternoon picnic.

  "I think that's got it," Bruce said. "We'd better be on our way, it's past six now."

  "You go on," Mimi Burnside told him. "I'll be there in a minute." The big redhead grabbed Cyn by the arm and pulled her away from the open bus door. "Why are you moving back to your apartment tonight? I didn't think you were a quitter."

  Cyn looked away from Mimi, waving at some of the kids who were hanging out open bus windows. Deliberately avoiding direct eye contact, Cyn tried to explain her rea­sons without revealing too much. "Nate has some personal problems that he has to work out before we can even think about a future together."

  "And just why can't you stay here and help him work out those problems?" Mimi scowled at Bruce, who stood on the first step of the bus entrance, motioning for her to hurry.

  "Nate doesn't want me here," Cyn said.

  "Hogwash."

  "Thanks for caring so much." Cyn hugged Mimi, as a child might seek comfort from her mother. "I love you, but don't push me on this. Please take my word that I'm not giving up on Nate, I'm just doing what's best for both of us for the time being."

  "Well, if you ask me—"

  "Mimi." Cyn gave her friend a pleading look.

  "You know where to find me, day and night, if you need to talk." Mimi gave Cyn a bear hug, turned around and walked toward the bus. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she said to Bruce, whose round face was lobster-red from the heat and his agitated state of mind.

  Cyn stood at the edge of the road, watching the bus until the red taillights disappeared. She let her gaze stray across the road, knowing that Nate was home, waiting—waiting to send her away.

  She couldn't bring herself to turn around and go inside. The desire to run to Nate overwhelmed her. Her legs ached with the pressure she exerted to keep them from moving to­ward his house.

  Reminding herself that she still had to pack before her long drive back to her Jacksonville apartment tonight, Cyn began to turn, the effort taking all her willpower. And then she saw him. He stepped out onto his front walkway, stop­ping abruptly when he glanced in her direction. He threw up his hand and waved. Stunned, she simply gazed back at him, watching while he moved toward her, down the walkway, across the yard and then the road.

  She thought he looked as breathtakingly male as a man could look, all six-foot-two inches of hard, lean muscles and bronze flesh. He moved quickly, with the swift, sure stride of a jungle animal. Quiet. Deadly.

  When he was within a few feet of her, she could see him plainly in the bright outdoor lighting she'd turned on for the picnickers. His expensive clothes gave him an air of ele­gance, but the unbuttoned shirt, worn without a tie, and the short black ponytail proclaimed him a rebel, a man who lived by his own rules.

  "Cyn, we need to talk." He took several slow, tentative steps, stopping within arm's reach of her. She seemed wary, almost afraid. The last thing on earth he wanted was for her to be afraid of him.

  "You didn't have to come over to remind me to leave. I was just going in to pack. I'm returning to Jacksonville to­night, and I won't come back to the cottage until you tell me it's all right." She turned around, hoping he wouldn't see the tears forming in her eyes.

  He reached out and took her by the shoulders, pulling her back up against his chest. Feeling the tremors that racked her body made him curse the fates that had decreed the two of them should meet now when all he could offer her was danger.

  "Before you leave, we have to talk." God, she felt so good. Soft, warm and all woman. He wanted nothing more than to lift her into his arms, lower her to the ground and take her quickly, spilling himself into her while listening to her feminine cries.

  "I thought we'd already said all there was to say this af­ternoon." Belligerently, Cyn tried to pull away, but he held fast, tightening his big hands on her shoulders.

  "Let's go inside." How was he going to be alone with her long enough to explain everything she needed to know and not succumb to the desire raging within him? The last thing he wanted was to send this woman away.

  "This afternoon you said it was dangerous for me to be with you. Has that changed?" Cyn gave in to the longing to lean back against him, to absorb the power and strength of his big, hard body.

  Lowering his head, he nuzzled the side of her neck, his lips savoring the taste of her sunshine-fresh hair as he kissed the golden strands. Loosening his tenacious hold, he ran his hands up and down her arms. "No, that hasn't changed." He felt her stiffen, knew she was already withdrawing from him. "I've arranged for a bodyguard, and I don't want any arguments."

  She whirled around, her brown eyes wide, her soft lips parted on her indrawn breath. "I don't want... Oh, Nate, is it really necessary?"

  "Sam Dundee is waiting for you in Sweet Haven. He's going to follow you home tonight. He'll keep an eye on you until Nick Romero can arrange protection."

  "Protection? More than a bodyguard?"

  Taking her hands into his large ones, he pulled her to­ward him. "Government protection. Ryker works for the Marquez family, the leading drug dealers in Florida. Rom­ero and the DEA are involved, at least, unofficially."

  "Why must I... why...?"

  "Because I can't protect you and keep you away from me at the same time."

  "I could stay with you," she said hopefully, gazing up at him with such love in her eyes that he thought he'd die from the pleasure-pain that her fearless devotion gave him.

  "No, B
rown Eyes. I want you far away when I meet Ry­ker." He turned her hands palm up, and lavished hungry kisses across her tender flesh. "I want you to promise me to be careful. Allow Sam Dundee to do his job. I'll call when Nick has a man in place so you'll know the change has been made."

  "When will I see you again?" she asked, breathless from his nearness. She ached to hold him, to take him into her arms and into her body and find again that hot, sweet, se­cret place where they had gone together in the moments of total fulfillment.

  "Not until it's all over. One way or the other."

  "Nate, I don't understand any of this, especially Ramon Carranza's involvement." Before Nate could reply, Cyn gave him a warning look. "Don't try to deny that there's some­thing going on between you and Señor Carranza."

  "I'm not sure about Carranza. That's something else I'll have to deal with once I've eliminated Ryker." When he felt her cringe at his choice of words, he regretted his blunt-ness.

  When she tugged on her hands, he released her. "Do I have to leave you tonight?" she asked.

  No, his heart screamed. Stay. Stay with me forever, his soul cried. "Yes," he said.

  She slipped her arms beneath his jacket and around his waist, hugging him tightly. She ran her fingers over the smooth leather sheath that held his knife. She willed her­self not to tremble, not to be repulsed by the deadly weapon strapped to his body. "I don't want to leave you."

  He grabbed her, lifting her off her feet. "Do you think I want you to go?" He took her mouth with all the savage hunger within him, longing to devour her sweetness, des­perate to know again the pure pleasure that her loving heart and body could provide.

  She accepted his marauding lips, the conquering pillage of his thrusting tongue as she returned, full force, the power and passion with which he took her. The world around her seemed to fade into a haze of swirling darkness, a sea of brown, edged with pale light. This man, his virile energy, his intense masculinity, surrounded her. She could feel him drawing her into his body, consuming her femininity, tak­ing strength from her womanly power.

  Nate trembled. Dear God, he had to let her go! No mat­ter how much he wanted her or how badly he needed her, he had to send her away. To keep her safe.

  Slowly, reluctantly, he eased her down the hard, muscu­lar length of his body, allowing her softness to slide over every inch of his pulsating manhood. She clung to him, her slender arms draping his neck, her lips parted on a sigh of pure pleasure as their bodies caressed each other's.

  "You have to leave," he told her, but his big hands still lingered around her waist.

  She didn't say a word, only looked at him, her eyes speaking for her heart, pleading with him. It might be the wrong time and the wrong place, but the feelings were right. Nate had never been so sure of anything in his life. He had never truly needed anyone. He'd made sure of that. He had spent a lifetime protecting himself from the weaknesses that dominated other men's lives. No one had ever broken through the protective shell Nathan Rafael Hodges had constructed around his heart, a barrier of solitude and in­difference that kept him safely apart from the emotional attachments to which most men succumbed.

  But Cynthia Porter had done what no other woman had ever done. She had put a crack in Nate's defensive armor. She meant more to him than she should. If he allowed his selfish need to overcome his common sense, he would be putting her life in danger. But her life was already in dan­ger, he reminded himself.

  He swooped her up into his arms, leaving her breathless and clinging to him with all her might as he carried her in­side her cottage. Kicking open the slightly ajar front door, Nate entered the living room. Without hesitation, he low­ered her onto the chintz sofa and covered her body with his own.

  "I need you," he breathed into her ear, his mouth moist and hot against the side of her neck. "I need this." He ground his hips against hers, crushing her trembling body deeper into the sofa.

  "Yes." She would have refused him nothing, so power­ful was her desire, so overwhelming her love. Even know­ing that he would send her away afterward, she still wanted to give herself to him.

  He kissed her, his lips masterful in their seduction. Mov­ing his fingers to the hem of her cotton pullover sweater, he jerked it up and under her arms, revealing her lace-covered breasts. Lowering his head, he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking greedily through the lacy barrier.

  "I want you naked," he told her, lifting her up to re­move her sweater. Quickly, he unsnapped her bra, removed it and tossed it to the floor.

  He buried his face between her breasts, allowing his tongue to paint an erotic trail from one erect nipple to the other. She arched against him, thrusting upward against his throbbing arousal.

  "Oh, Nate, I want you so much." Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, distant and haunting.

  He grasped the elastic waistband of her slacks, tugging downward until he encountered her bikini briefs. Slipping his fingers inside the top of her panties, he lowered both underwear and slacks down and off.

  When she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, Nate lifted himself off her and removed his jacket, tossing it to­ward a nearby chair. In his haste to rid himself of his shirt, he popped several buttons.

  "I want to feel you against me." Lowering his body back down onto her, he rubbed his broad, smooth chest over her breasts, the action tightening her nipples to diamond-hard points. "Woman... woman... you make me crazy.''

  "I want you so much, I'm hurting." She reached out, trying to undo his belt and was startled when he pushed her hands away. "Nate?"

  "I want you aching even more." He ran his hand be­tween her thighs, delving his fingers through the tight blond curls and between her moist folds. "I want you so wet and hot and throbbing that you'd do anything to have me in­side you."

  She moaned, squirming beneath the knowledgeable strokes of his fingers as he fondled and petted her sensitive flesh. Beginning at her breasts, Nate aroused her to a fever pitch with the repeated licking and sucking motions of his mouth and tongue as they created a fiery path downward. He eased her legs further apart, his kisses coating the inside of her thighs.

  She writhed beneath him, her body responding to his every touch as if it had never known a man. And indeed, Cyn thought, her mind dazzled by torrid sensations, every time with Nate was like the first time. Powerful. Hungry. Lustful.

  His mouth covered her intimately. She groaned.

  He tortured her, bringing her close to the edge, then re­treating, returning to bring her to the edge again.

  She grabbed handfuls of his shiny black hair, trying to pull his marauding mouth away. "Please... please..."

  Raising his head, he looked at her, satisfied by the wild look in her eyes, the passion-drugged expression on her face. Inch by inch, he edged his body upward until he covered her, then he raised himself on his elbows, lowered his head and took one peaked nipple between his teeth.

  Cyn cried out from the pleasure. Her body was so sensi­tized that a mere touch shot through her with aching inten­sity. "Now!" she cried out, gripping his buttocks in her hands, clutching the soft fabric of hirtrousers.

  Nate jerked his zipper open, shoved his slacks and briefs down below his hips and rammed into her with shocking force. He felt her buck beneath him, heard her loud moans, and smelled the strong, heady aroma of her womanly scent. He wanted to ask if he was being too rough, but he was too far gone to be capable of speech. The world condensed to include nothing except the two of them—her body, his body, the fast hard thrusts of his manhood, the answering undu­lating rhythm of her femininity.

  Sweat-slick and passion-hot, they mated, with the hard, heavy needs within them ruling their every move until one final lunge propelled them through the timeless ecstasy of fulfillment. She shook with a release so strong she thought she might never recover from the forceful shudders that continued claiming her when his life force emptied into her. His groaning cries of fulfillment echoed in the stillness of the cottage as his body trembled.

&
nbsp; Her man, stronger and more powerful than most, lay weak and drained in the arms of the woman who loved him. Loved him enough to die for him. Even enough to kill for him. The thought of loving someone so deeply and com­pletely frightened her. She had known Nate Hodges for such a short period of time, and yet it seemed that she had known him always, that he had been a part of her from the day she'd been born.

  With their bodies still joined, Cyn snuggled against him, caressing his back, whispering love words to him. He claimed her mouth for a leisurely kiss. She felt his sex hard­ening within her as his tongue slipped inside her mouth.

  "One more time, Brown Eyes," he said, and began again the ancient dance that bound them together eternally.

  Chapter 11

  Nate lifted her suitcases into the van, slammed the door and stepped away. He couldn't touch her again. If he did, he'd be lost—he'd never be able to let her go.

  "I'll follow you to the gas station," he said. "Sam Dun­dee is waiting there. He'll be as inconspicuous as possible so you can go on about your life as usual. No one should no­tice his presence if he's as good as Romero says he is."

  The moonlight cast honeyed shadows across her face, and the night breeze stirred the loose tendrils of her long hair. He knew she was close to tears, and if he prolonged their goodbye, she would be crying soon.

  "I'll let you know when Romero gets someone to replace Dundee." He took one last long look at Cyn before getting behind the wheel of his Jeep Cherokee, which he'd parked beside her van.

  Feeling numb, Cyn started the engine and maneuvered the minivan out of the driveway, and onto the deserted road. Within five minutes, she slowed down in front of the closed gas station. A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out of a compact car. Cyn pulled the van to a stop, but remember­ing Nate's instructions, didn't get out. She watched as Nate drove in beside her, jumped out of his Jeep and went over to speak to the man he'd hired to protect her.

  She could hardly believe her life had come to this—that she had to live in fear that some madman would use her to get even with Nate. Never once had she sought out vio­lence, but it had come to her, ripping her life apart. Why, dear God, why? Was Nate right? Did you have to face vio­lence when it was thrust upon you and fight for your own salvation? And for the safety of those you loved?