Goddamn, it might have been the worst idea to come back. He didn’t want to see her. A new life, married and happy and safe and secure with someone else. He had to see her, even if she hated him. There was only one bit of pleasure he’d known in this world, and it was Rosa. The rest was hardship. His thirst returned. But being close to Rosa again without having her might be like drinking fire.
Tom had never seen this country from these heights. This was the territory he’d grown up in, but the land seemed so different. He experienced it like a dream, knowing it was right but feeling something was wrong. He was lost but knew where he was headed.
Keeping the distant shining ocean to his left, Tom rode north. The river flickered below him, a snake hidden in shadows. He crested a hill, then another. Homesteads appeared in the flats. And in a far clearing at the base of a tall mountain he saw Thornville.
Three years had pushed the town farther into where the trees had stood. What had been one wide road was now two, a cross of buildings with boardwalks and even a clock tower. Houses were scattered around the town. There was more to this area than just farming and canning blackberries now. Maybe one of those houses was Rosa’s.
His mouth went dry. She was close. There were people out on the street, but he couldn’t identify them or know what they were up to from this distance. Could she see him high in the air?
Tom had left Thornville by riding away on the dusty trails. He returned in the air, a different man. But would Rosa know that?
He’d snuck out of town on a stolen horse. Coming back straight down the main street wouldn’t be right. Tom curled a wide arc around the approaching town, putting the silver sea to his back. The pines and scrub oaks were still thick enough on the other side of the river to give him a nice private place to land.
He brought the charger down, leaves brushing against his thighs, and took the metal head right next to a thick tree. While the hovering craft was still four feet off the ground, he dismounted. The ground under his feet didn’t feel stable after all that time in the saddle. He took a few steps to loosen up, then pulled on the side lever of the charger, bringing it to the ground.
“Rest easy, girl. You deserve it.” He locked the Gatling rifle in its scabbard, then lifted the metal covering at the charger’s flank, exposing some of the inner workings. One flip of a switch and the tetrol engine stopped chugging. Tom reached deeper inside the body, to where the ether tanks glowed green through their glass ends. “Wish I could give you an apple.” Instead he yanked on the pins next to the ether tanks’ valves and slipped them into his shirt pocket.
The tanks stopped catalyzing ether, and the charger rested completely on the dirt. Tom gave it one last pat on the side. Dry oak leaves crunched under his boots as he walked toward town. The smell of their dust took him back to being a boy, running through this land, trying to find tarantulas or deer bones. Not long after that, he’d been sneaking around these parts, searching for Rosa.
Tom pulled a plump blackberry from a thicket next to the river. It was sweet and reminded him only of her. The plant’s thorns barely scratched his toughened skin. Could he avoid Rosa’s thorns?
The old bridge—with some new wood—still spanned the narrow part of the river near town. Here it was, the last place he’d seen her. The running water tumbling over the rocks sounded like the echoes of him and Parker yelling at each other. Couldn’t have been the way Parker wanted his marriage proposal to Rosa to play out. The carpenter might’ve been expecting some tears of joy, certainly not her storming off while Tom and Parker bloodied their knuckles on each other. But Tom had been freshly burned by her parents and didn’t take kindly to another man moving in so fast and asking for his girl’s hand. And taking on Parker was a fight he knew he could win.
Tom shook off the memories and stepped closer to the river. As he crossed the bridge and got closer to town, he realized that the echoes weren’t the lingering ghosts of his final clash with Parker and Rosa. The yelling was real. There was trouble in Thornville.
He picked up his pace, following the sounds of the conflict. Someone was getting punched and going down in a lot of pain. Others shouted encouragement. Tom certainly didn’t want in on a brawl, but even if everyone in town had forgotten his name, Thornville was still his home.
Ducking between a candy shop and a women’s dress store, Tom got his first look at the main street. Six or seven men stood in a wide ring around two fighters. One of them staggered on wobbly legs, trying to make fists. The other stood his ground, ready. Something flashed on his chest, making Tom blink away the bright streak across his vision. A tin star.
“Aw, hell,” Tom muttered. “Just the sheriff running some drunks out of town.”
The badge flashed again, and Tom refocused his eyes on the sheriff.
It was Rosa.
An Excerpt from
STORM BOUND
A CABIN FEVER NOVELLA
by Alice Gaines
In the latest installment in Alice Gaines’s steamy Cabin Fever series, one woman throws caution to the hurricane winds and explores her deepest sexual fantasies when a storm leaves her stranded on a tropical island with two hot studs.
AN AVON RED NOVELLA
CHAPTER ONE
When the time came, Christie had to use every ounce of willpower to make her feet take her to the dock. As she descended the steps that led to the ocean, she passed the plantings the gardeners had so carefully arranged to look haphazard, wondering how roughly Fred would treat them. Most weren’t native to the island but had been chosen for their ability to thrive in ocean breezes, and sunlight filtered through the palms overhead. The tiny pink orchid flowers had just begun to open. Would they be here when she came back?
It was stupid, really, to worry about things here. The whole sales pitch about safety and security had facts to back it up. Still, she’d so much rather stay and see for herself. Tomorrow she could check on things if she remained. More important, she could explore her sexual opportunities with Wolf and Jon if they remained with her.
When she arrived at the beach, she stepped onto the dock and walked to the end where the ferry would stop. Sighing, she set her few bags down and waited for her “rescue.” The ferry wasn’t far away, and now it puttered closer and closer. She really ought to go back up and collect her guests. Though the first clouds hadn’t appeared yet, the storm was bearing down on them. They didn’t have much time to get to the airport and get a flight out.
Captain Joe stood at the helm of the small vessel. When he got to the dock, he tossed her a line, which she tied around a piling. With no more than a dozen seats on benches, the boat hardly qualified as a ferry. No one occupied them now. He’d come for only Jon Carlson, Wolf Martin, and her.
Captain Joe smiled at her and then glanced behind her. “Where are the rest of the passengers?”
“At the hotel. Finishing packing.” That wasn’t true. They’d probably finished long ago. She just hadn’t told them the ferry had arrived. Why did this have to be so damned hard?
“They’d best hurry. I have to get my boat back and stowed before the storm hits.”
“Uh, yeah,” she said.
“Christie? Is everything okay?”
Christie could not make herself answer. The memories crashed through her mind, tumbling over each other. Her first glimpse of the two businessmen, dressed in suits as if they had to impress her. They hadn’t needed to dress formally to do that, but the elegant cut of their clothing had emphasized their lofty positions on the corporate food chain. An easy exercise of power, a pure aphrodisiac. Then, they’d turned into beach bums, endearingly boyish.
Oh hell, all that was nice, but the sizzling glances sealed the deal. Jon’s easy, knowing smiles. Wolf’s suggestion that they open personal negotiations. Every cell in her body knew by instinct that she could have one or both of them. Every primitive part of her brain promised to punish he
r for months, if not years, with fantasies of what could have been if she let them go now. Only the tiny part of her mind called “rational” or “conscience” told her to let them go. The “want” and “must have” parts could squash rationality and doing the right thing like a bug. In fact, they did.
Squish. Dead.
She might as well face facts. She wasn’t letting Jon and Wolf off this island until she’d explored every inch of their bodies or died trying.
“Christie?” Captain Joe rubbed his chin in puzzlement. “Talk to me.”
“Right.” She smiled, returning his gaze as innocently as possible. “What I meant to say is I’m sorry you came all the way out here for no reason.”
“I always come out here at this time of day.”
“Of course, but you must have preparations to make before the storm closes in.”
He continued to study her as if she wasn’t making any sense. Maybe she wasn’t, but one way or another, she had to get him to turn his ferry around and leave before one of the men realized their escape from getting trapped here had arrived.
“There’s still some time to get back to the mainland ahead of the storm,” the captain said. “But I don’t know when I’ll get back out here.”
“Good, you go on. The two executives have sent for their own boat,” she said.
“They have a boat?”
“Their company does. You know how these business types are. They like their luxury.”
“You’re sure?” Captain Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“Absolutely sure. It should be here in half an hour or so.”
“What about you?” he asked.
“I’ll go with them. We’ll be fine. All three of us.” That had all come out too high-pitched and too fast. She didn’t lie often enough to get good at it.
“Okay then. I’ll shove off.” He didn’t move for a moment, though, but kept studying her. She gave him what ought to look like an innocent smile—she didn’t normally practice those, either—and met his gaze head-on, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. If they stood here much longer, either Wolf or Jon was bound to appear. Not only would she have to say good-bye to them, but Captain Joe would no doubt ask them about their company’s boat.
“You take care,” Captain Joe said after what seemed like ten minutes but could hardly have been more than a few seconds.
“Oh, I will.” She’d take care of herself by taking care of the two men—first one, then the other. She bent to untie the line from around the piling and tossed it to Captain Joe so he could cast off. When he opened the throttle and directed the ferry away from the shore, she waved to him. Finally, he and his craft became no more than a speck on the horizon, and she turned to go up the path to the hotel, taking her first deep breath since he’d arrived. She left her bags to collect later and headed back to the hotel.
Neither her guests nor their luggage had made any appearance, so they wouldn’t have seen the ferry either arrive or leave unless they’d been watching from the terrace, and she’d seen no evidence of that. Now she only had to concoct some story for why the three of them had been stranded. An emergency on another island ought to work. Someone who’d had to be hurried to medical care. She’d think of something before she had to confront them.
Instead of worrying about that, she let the fantasies run free while she climbed the steps again, walking beneath the palm trees toward the huge windows overlooking the terrace and the sea. Reinforced shatterproof glass, they should weather a gale bigger than Fred would create. They’d get quite a view of turbulence outside while they enjoyed themselves inside.
Wolf and Jon. Which one should she have first? The tall blond with the easy smile, or the smaller, more intense man with the fierce blue gaze?
Oh sweet Lord. She stopped in her tracks for a moment. Or . . . she could have them both together. Two such competitive males. Could she get them to work together to give her sex more erotic than she’d ever hoped for? A threesome, her very own. She could have them both at once . . . a cock inside her while she sucked on another one. When one man tired, the other could take over. They could go on for hours that way.
But why stop there? Oh my. Once all inhibitions had dropped, they could experiment with anything that came to mind. They could role-play—say, horny wife with the next-door neighbor when her husband comes home unexpectedly. Or better—she could let them dominate her. She’d admired their easy sense of power from the first moment she’d set eyes on them. She could experience that directly. Total surrender to their sexual needs and her own. Just imagining it made her knees weak. Oh my God, could she really have that?
Not only could she have any sexual fantasy that occurred to them, but she could have them completely to herself with no one looking on and judging. No gossips. No stories to get out. She could indulge herself in every way possible. The only limits she’d have to face would be Jon’s and Wolf’s reservations, if they had any.
She was risking a lot. A hell of a lot. Losing their business, for one thing, if they found out she’d lied. And if they were angry enough to tell the company why they’d bailed on Santa Inez, there went her job, too. Perhaps the worst would come if she had to face their anger and disappointment. That didn’t make much sense, given that she’d met them only the day before. But she’d enjoyed Jon’s easy smiles and Wolf’s approval of everything she’d shown him at the resort. Seeing all that evaporate because of her dishonesty would hurt. She could end up miserable and unemployed, all because she couldn’t control her hormones.
She couldn’t change that now. All she could do was hope for the best and enjoy herself. Perhaps if she did a really good job of making them happy, they’d forgive her if they did find out.
Damn it all, what was wrong with her? The only way they could learn of her deception was to talk to Captain Joe, and they had no way of doing that. She picked up her pace until she fairly skipped up the last few steps.
When she arrived inside the hotel, they were both waiting for her, luggage on the floor between them. Neither beach bums nor captains of industry now, they wore casual clothes—lightweight shirts and slacks. No matter how they dressed, they were mighty fine to look at. Now maybe she’d have the chance to feel Jon’s long arms around her and burrow into the firm planes of Wolf’s chest.
Jon bent to grab the handle of his suitcase. “Ferry waiting?”
“Uh, no.” Think, think. She needed a story when all her current thoughts came through X-rated. “There was an emergency on another island. High-risk pregnancy. She had to get to the mainland in case she needed a hospital in the next couple of days.”
The two men exchanged glances.
“You mean the ferry left without us?” Jon asked.
“It never came,” she answered. “I got a message on my cell phone.”
“We’re stranded?” Wolf asked.
“I’m afraid so,” she said. “There’s no time to get another boat out here in front of the storm.”
“And none likely to come soon after the storm, either,” Wolf said.
“I’m sorry.”
Neither of them gave much of a clue as to how they felt about being stuck here. They couldn’t be happy about missing their business engagements or they would have volunteered to stay. They didn’t convey any skepticism about her story, either. But neither of them was dancing with joy, either.
“Look at it this way . . . I’ll get to show you that the resort can weather even a mild hurricane,” she said. “I think you’ll be impressed.”
“What about electricity?” Wolf asked.
“We have a generator and solar power,” she said. “We were getting ready to open, so there’s plenty of food and a well-stocked bar and wine cabinets.”
“And a restaurant kitchen to play around in.” Jon finally gave a clue to some emotion as the light of competitive
mischief entered his eyes. “My partner here claims he knows how to use a chef’s knife. What do you bet he’s blowing smoke?”
Wolf heaved a sigh. “You never give it a rest, do you?”
Christie almost matched his sigh with one of her own, out of relief. If they were upset with her, they weren’t showing it.
“We’ll see who can really cook,” Wolf said.
“That we will,” Jon answered. That might be innocent enough except for the way they were both staring at her. With any luck, they’d all three be cooking by that evening.
“Do you buy her story?”
Jon pulled his head from the restaurant freezer long enough to glance at his friend and partner. Wolf stood on the other side of the butcher-block worktable, an open beer in his hand.
“Ms. Lovejoy’s?” he said.
“She’s the only ‘her’ around here,” Wolf answered.
“What makes you think she lied?”
Wolf lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It just seemed strange. One minute, we were all ready to go. The next, there was a mysterious cell phone message.”
Jon thought back. He’d been too busy concentrating on how the top of her sundress stretched over her breasts to notice much of anything else. But she might have avoided their eye contact. Bad liars did that. Wolf had a great sense for people. He might be on to something.
“Do you really care if she’s telling the truth?” Jon asked.
“Don’t you?”
“I guess.” Although he hadn’t managed to push his fantasies of Ms. Christie Lovejoy naked completely to the back of his mind, the state-of-the-art professional kitchen made for a pleasant diversion from the constant state of semi-arousal he’d endured since noticing how she moved—as if she were dancing with a man who really turned her on. Gleaming stainless steel appliances, more sauté pans than he could ever hope to dirty, and a six-burner gas stove with enough BTUs to fire up hell itself. All that could entertain him until he could watch her face when he first sank his cock into her.
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