Hidden Hearts

by Susan Kearney

  “Hey, I’m sure it was. But this tent is raccoon-proof. And snake-proof.”

  “How’s that possible?”

  She was very tense, and he wanted her to relax. Tonight, they would be safe. No longer tempted to tease her, he explained. “A grateful client deeded me the use of his lakefront property for my lifetime. Before I got it, he used to bring his motor home there to camp for the winter. His wife wanted a deck built to overlook the lake and the spring. He built the platform on telephone poles ten feet off the ground.”

  “We’re going to camp on top of the platform?”

  “And I never bring food in there.”

  She nodded in acceptance. “It’ll feel great to bathe in the lake and wash this cement dust off.”

  “That can be arranged.” He grinned to himself when she didn’t mention the lack of a swimsuit.

  “It would sure be nice to have clean clothes…for tomorrow.”

  “I might be able to arrange that.”

  She reached over and patted his leg, just above the knee, shooting a bolt of heat straight to his groin. And she knew exactly what she was doing to him. “You’re good at arranging things.”

  “I’m good at lots of things,” he agreed, willing himself not to speed down the highway and show his impatience. Already sensing that tonight with Alexandra would be special, he wanted to take his time. As much as he might like to follow his base instincts, he had no intention of pulling over onto the shoulder, ripping off her clothes and making frantic love to her.

  He needed a moment to cool down, but that might not be possible as her fingers rested lightly on his leg. “There’s a washer and dryer there.”

  “You have electricity?” Surprise raised her voice an octave, and she moved her hand slightly higher up his leg.

  “My client spent his winters there and his summers in Canada. He liked to camp. His wife liked the comforts of home, so he built this giant garage where I store supplies, food and clothing and weapons. Maybe you should wait to see the place before you jump to conclusions.” He could see he hadn’t yet banished all her apprehension over camping. But he would. He intended to keep her far too busy tonight to think about anything but him. “I’ve ridden out a hurricane on a couch in the bunker.”

  “Maybe we should sleep there.”

  “You haven’t seen my tent.”

  She gave him a saucy look. “That’s not all I haven’t seen.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As Roarke drove onto a dirt road and under hundred-year-old granddaddy oaks draped with Spanish moss, Alexandra felt the day’s tension easing from her shoulders. Although she longed to check on the progress of the bank building, she reminded herself that she had good people working for her, people who cared as much as she did about the project’s successful completion.

  Roarke turned off the dirt road, stopped and got out of the car to unlock a gate. She drove the car through, and he locked up behind them before rejoining her. “This is where the property line begins.”

  “How much farther?” Alexandra asked, more to make conversation than out of real curiosity. She’d rather be at a hotel with Roarke, but she trusted his judgment. And she wanted to get to know him better. Much better.

  Somehow she knew that wherever he was taking her would turn out fine. And she wasn’t just talking about a physical place, but a romantic one. After trusting Roarke with her life, it was easier to trust him with her feelings.

  And if she was making a mistake, it wouldn’t be her first. She couldn’t let her disastrous past with Patrick ruin every new relationship before it had a chance to begin. She’d held Roarke’s good looks and incredible charm against him for long enough to learn about his true nature. Not only was he willing to lay his life on the line for her, he’d held her so gently in the trunk when she’d mourned the loss of her father and had given her what she most needed—comfort. Now she wanted to see if he could give her more.

  They’d worked well together once he’d started to open up and share his plans. But could they play together? She intended to find out.

  Roarke’s eyes certainly had gleamed with interest when she’d placed her hand on his knee. Oh, he’d pretended not to notice, but his voice had deepened, turning huskier, sexier. She’d wished the car didn’t have bucket seats so she could have snuggled against him. But she made the most of the opportunity she had, touching him along the inside of his leg, her fingers slowly circling higher.

  A muscle leaped beneath her fingers, proof positive that he was reacting to her. She liked the feel of his hard muscles beneath her hand, powerful thighs encased in slacks that reacted to her softest caress, her nails lightly teasing.

  The car’s headlights lit the camp, and it looked exactly as he’d described it, a large concrete garage, a raised deck with a tent already pitched, overlooking dark waters glinting under the moon.

  “Why didn’t the guy just build a cabin?”

  “He intended to. He ran out of funds.”

  She didn’t remove her hand from his thigh until he switched off the engine, and then she instantly missed the contact. “You leave the tent up?”

  “I was camping here when your brother called.”

  “I interrupted your vacation?” When he nodded, she opened the car door, stood and stretched her legs. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” He walked around the hood and took her hand. Simply by the touch of his palm he conveyed heat and safety and the promise of so much more. A beginning for both of them, together as they had not been before.

  She breathed in the scent of cypress, grass and pine and ached for him to draw her into his arms, but he seemed intent on playing tour guide. When the moonlight shimmered on his face, however, she saw his eyes, hungry with need, and her mouth went dry. Anticipation hung in the air. And he’d done nothing but take her hand.

  He shone a flashlight that he’d taken from the glove compartment over the water. “That’s the lake.” He turned at a ninety-degree angle. “And the spring’s over there.”

  “Is the water very cold?” she asked, knowing she needed a shower, not just to wash, but to cool her skin, rapidly heating due to a combination of Roarke’s touches, her thoughts and the private setting.

  “There’s one way to find out the water’s temperature.” He tugged her hand and led her not to the spring’s bank, but to the platform that held his tent.

  Hand-in-hand they climbed the stairs. “Are you afraid of heights?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  He led her around the tent and toward the farthest edge. “Here’s a diving perch from the platform. And the water below is deep everywhere. Jumping is the best way into the spring.”

  “It’s that cold?”

  “I prefer to think of it as…refreshing.”

  “Refreshing, huh? If it’s that cold, maybe you could warm me up a little first.”

  He tugged her toward him, one hand cupping the back of her neck and twining into her hair. “What did you have in mind?”

  At his suggestive tone, her heart skipped and skidded. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her chest against his, breathed in his masculine scent. Her breasts ached for his touch, her knees seemed to have gone boneless and her breaths came in gulps. “How about a kiss?”

  “Whatever the lady wants,” he leaned until his mouth just touched hers, “the lady gets.”

  She didn’t know which of them would close the last remaining gap. She only knew his breath made her skipping heartbeat start to sprint. It seemed as if she’d been waiting all day for this kiss, and now that it was almost here, she wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready to feel this overwhelming need. Wasn’t ready for the multitude of sensations that caused her to want to explore every inch of him. Wasn’t ready to feel as if the entire world focused on her mouth.

  From past experience, she already knew he was quite an expert in the kissing department. He kissed just like he looked—sublime. Just from one hot look, her breasts swelled and her nipples
puckered. And she had a tingly warm feeling that made her pulse race.

  “Damn you, kiss me already.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He bit her lower lip with a taunting sensuality that left her thoughts spinning and her pulse pounding. His teasing drove her wild, and she leaned into him, enjoying his taut heat, his simmering masculinity.

  “Surely you can do better than that.” She meant to sound demanding. Instead, she sounded breathless. Needy. And much too eager. However, she no longer cared, craving to give in to the passion he’d kindled.

  Threading her hands into his thick black hair, she tugged his head closer. Let her hips nestle against his hardness. Two could play this game.

  But he smelled so good she had difficulty remembering not to try and devour him like a starving woman. Instead, she explored the shell of his ear, the muscular curve of his neck and the line of his arrogant jaw. That he was still arrogant, demanding and determined to set the pace made him all the more appealing.

  His hand rested intimately on the small of her back, the other wrapped around her shoulder, cuddling her close. And still he refused to give her his mouth.

  Instead, he traced a path from her brow to her cheek to her chin. She turned her head to catch his lips square on hers, and he groaned in surrender, then kissed her like a man hungry for love.

  Standing so close, she could feel his hardness, knew he had to be as eager to have her as she was to have him. But he took his time, exploring her mouth with a thoroughness that kept her senses spinning. She forgot their terribly long day, the danger that would face them tomorrow, her reluctance to spend the night in a tent.

  There was only now. Only Roarke. Only this compelling passion that burned between them.

  His mouth claimed hers like a conquering hero, and she willingly gave him what he wanted. Then gave him more. When he eased his mouth from hers, she gulped air, trying to catch a breath, trying to rein in her emotions, trying to gather her wits about her.

  He didn’t give her the chance. “You did say you wanted a bath?”

  “A bath?” She could barely think through the heat he’d fired up inside her.

  “You can swim?” he asked softly, a hint of mischievousness in his tone as he took off his shoes and placed the contents of his pockets on the floor.

  She nodded, and suddenly her head cleared. He’d eased her out onto the diving platform that overlooked the spring. Oak branches sheltered them in a cocoon of magic as moonlight filtered through and glinted off the opal-black waters below.

  “Let’s jump.”

  “But—”

  He barely gave her time to kick off her shoes before he tugged her to the edge of the platform and yanked her with him into the air. She fell and the wind rushed through her hair. Instinctively, she held her breath. They struck the water with a splash.

  The water, much colder than she’d expected, saturated her clothes, and she started kicking even as she still plunged downward. She reached the surface, laughing and relaxed, the fire he’d started earlier keeping away the chill from the cold waters.

  With a smile in her heart, she flung her hair out of her eyes and searched for Roarke, who suddenly came up right beside her. She licked a water droplet off her lip, deliberately suggestive. “You didn’t give me time to take off my clothes.”

  “If I had, you wouldn’t be swimming right now,” he stated with a husky urgency that left no doubt in her mind how much he wanted to make love.

  She treaded water, slowly becoming accustomed to the cool temperature of the spring. Not ten feet away from where they swam, she saw a flat rock jutting from the bank. While her clothes needed washing, she didn’t want to wear them, as their weight dragged her down.

  She swam toward the spit of rock and found a shallow place to stand where she could remove her clothes and throw them onto the rock. Roarke followed her and then tried to take her into his arms. Playful, she ducked under the surface, but didn’t make a clean getaway. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her back.

  Laughing, she surfaced to find herself barely able to take a breath before he dunked her. She went with his strength and discovered that while the water here was above her head, he could stand. But not for long. She grabbed his ankles and tugged; she toppled him, and then they both came up sputtering for air.

  Alexandra spat water into an arc and floated on her back, gazing up at the stars. With the city lights miles away, she could pick out the constellation Orion by the bright three stars that represented the hunter’s belt and the planet Venus, easily the brightest object in the sky after the moon.

  Beside her Roarke also floated, his dark hair slicked back from his handsome face, his inch-long lashes spiked with droplets of water. In the moonlight, his face appeared all dark planes and mysterious angles, his eyes reflected a moonbeam, their shadows steeped in sensuality.

  He swept her into his arms, capturing her as easily as a pirate on the high seas. His powerful arms closed around her shoulder and under her legs and he carried her toward the shore with little visible effort.

  “I don’t want you to catch cold.” He spoke with a gentle huskiness that rekindled the blaze he’d started with the kiss that had fired her soul.

  Naked in his arms, yet perfectly relaxed except for the fire burning in her belly, she gazed up at him, wondering how she’d gotten so lucky as to be in Roarke’s arms. He wasn’t just drop-dead gorgeous, he was kind and sensitive and gentle. And as she recalled his playful antics in the water she remembered that beneath those wet pants he had the sexiest, tightest, cutest butt she’d ever seen.

  “I’m plenty warm,” she murmured truthfully.

  Her limbs seemed to generate a sustaining heat all their own. Everywhere he touched her, he shot fire into her flesh. It was an exciting feeling, the cool water flowing over her heated skin, her hair floating along the surface, her cheek pressed to his massive chest, her ear picking up the rapid beat of his heart.

  She expected him to set her down once they reached the bank. But Roarke carried her up two flights of steps, straight to his tent. It was dark inside, and she couldn’t see much.

  When he finally set her back on her feet, her bare toes cuddled into a thick carpet. “Don’t move.”

  She heard him removing his clothes. He had picked up his wallet and now he was rummaging through it. She heard the sound of paper tearing. A match flared, and she could see him lighting a lantern. She got her first eyeful of Roarke in the nude, and the sight stole her breath. He was absolutely, spectacularly, amazingly stunning. In the orange glow of the lantern’s light, his wet skin shimmered with bronze highlights, defining his remarkably muscular shoulders and massive chest which decreased to a tapered waist. When he straightened and advanced toward her, the light silhouetted his body, and she glimpsed evidence of his arousal, already sheathed in a condom.

  She took satisfaction in the fact that he obviously wanted her as much as she wanted him, took satisfaction in the fact that he practiced safe sex, took satisfaction in the fact that she felt so comfortable with this man who’d been a stranger only a couple of days ago. He closed the distance between them before she took in much more of their surroundings, and suddenly she realized that while she’d been staring at him, she’d been standing there bathed in the lantern’s revealing light.

  “See anything you like?” she asked, slightly uncomfortable with her nudity but unwilling to admit it—especially around a man so perfect and extraordinarily good-looking that he probably never had one doubt about his own appearance. Frolicking in the water was one thing, standing before him in the light naked was another.

  “You’re a feast for a starving man, and I’m just deciding where to start tasting you.”

  She swallowed hard.

  He came close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off his body, but not so close that he touched her. The anticipation was sweet torture that made her blood thrum in her ears and her heart swell with unaccustomed yearnings.

  “I was going t
o dry you with a towel,” he whispered, “but I’m rather thirsty,” he paused, leaned over and delicately licked her throat, “so I think I’ll just use my tongue.”

  As she shivered slightly, he licked the tip of one breast, and she let out a tiny moan from the back of her throat.

  She wanted more, much more. Yet he seemed determined to draw out their pleasure. Slowly, sensuously, he explored every inch of her: her breasts, her belly, her thighs, parting her legs to taste her core, leaving no part untouched until she drew so tight she thought she’d explode. Throwing her head back, she released a primal shout, her hands gripping his shoulders as he held her on the edge.

  And when she couldn’t take one more caress, one more sensuous stroke, he led her to an air mattress covered with clean-smelling sheets and soft blankets on the tent’s floor. Grateful that she need no longer force her legs to stand while she felt so weak, she yanked him down, fused her mouth to his and demanded with every inch of her that he finish what he’d started.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  “For…what?”

  “I can’t wait any longer.” He sheathed himself inside her with one smooth movement.

  More than ready, she wrapped her legs around him, reveling in sheer pleasure. And then she couldn’t form another coherent thought. There was only Roarke, his arms around her, his hard body thrusting into her.

  Her breath came in gasps. His hands held her head, and his mouth melded with hers. He took her higher, harder and then ignited the passion sparking inside her until she exploded into a single white-hot flame.

  As her breathing slowed and he continued to hold her, her brain slowly re-engaged. She thought she’d heard him shout her name when he’d peaked, but she couldn’t be sure. She thought he’d lost himself there at the end, but she couldn’t be sure of that either. In fact, the only thing she was sure about was that they were good together. Very, very good.

  And it wasn’t just the sex. Even now he held her tenderly, almost reverently. The heat in his eyes had mellowed but hadn’t been extinguished. She hoped it would never go out. She liked the idea of Mr. Perfect needing her, wanting her so badly that he’d actually lost some of his perfect control. She liked that he’d been so wild for her that he couldn’t hold back.