Desire in the Everglades

by Hoff, Stacy

  “I saw you sitting there with your eyes all glossy and your little book out,” he answered. “I doubt anyone would put that much dream quality into location shoot notes.”

  “It’s nothing . . . just a hobby.”

  “All right. If you still don’t want to focus on the personal, let’s focus on the professional. If you stay with me tonight, I can show you the location spot you missed.”

  Stephanie raised one eyebrow. “Are you saying that our staying here together would be entirely professional?”

  Colin looked at her, dead on. “No, I’m not,” he responded. “Look, I’m a ‘full speed ahead’ kind of guy. I don’t hem and haw or sit around stewing in my thoughts. I don’t shy away from what I want, and I don’t play games to get it. So it’s time to face facts. There’s no denying the sexual tension between us, especially after last night. I want you. Just as badly as you want me.”

  The problem was, she thought, he was right. But that didn’t mean it was wise to go along. Perhaps for a second time. There were so many reasons not to. Like preserving her job. And what was left of her ego. She didn’t need another romantic failure. Would not be wooed by a man—again—whose offer was only skin deep. “No,” she finally answered. “You’ve got a helluva ego,” she added.

  “Ego? It’s not ego, it’s honesty. Be honest with yourself, because I am. Especially when I say I want to be with you tonight.”

  She bit the inside of her lower lip and shook her head stiffly.

  “No? You don’t want to spend tonight with me? You sure?” Colin mocked, and bent down to kiss her.

  Chapter 7

  Though the strength of his kiss was hard and intense, Colin’s lips were surprisingly soft. The heat she’d felt before now seared with fiery intensity. Her lips clung to his, as if his body were able to give her the air she had been denied. Colin pulled her to him, his arms wrapping around her waist. Blissfully, her mind turned off and raw desire took over. Trying to get closer still, she opened her mouth, inviting his tongue. When he responded, the enveloping heat burned even hotter.

  Eyes closed, swept away by her desire, it was a rude awakening when he suddenly withdrew.

  “They’re coming back,” he explained in soft voice. “I can hear the branches snap beneath their feet. I’m glad we can continue this tonight.”

  There was no point denying it. Or fighting it. Whatever happened afterwards, happened. She was definitely staying here with him. About to tell him so, a dark thought crossed her mind. What would the crew say when she told them she was staying behind? Would they tell Mark? Most definitely. Would Mark be mad? If she had an affair with Colin, only to have Colin drop the show, Mark would be infuriated. A bad one-night stand could certainly turn into a bad—or no—production. Even the perfect night with the perfect man was not worth her entire career.

  “Stephanie,” Colin demanded, though his voice was kept low, “you are going to stay, right?”

  She stared at him, wordless.

  “I know you want me as much as I want you,” he pressed. “Say it.”

  She squirmed. “No, Colin, I’m sorry, but I’m not saying it. This is not a good idea. We shouldn’t even have done what we did.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you stop it?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said, eyes downcast.

  “You don’t know? Here I am telling you I want you, and you tell me ‘you don’t know?’” Even with the low volume of his words, the anger was clear.

  “Hey, we’re back,” Devon said unnecessarily. He dropped down some large, thin sticks for the marshmallows.

  James and Tom dropped a larger pile of twigs for the fire.

  Stephanie leaned over to Colin and pleaded in a tiny voice. “Please don’t take it personally. I—”

  Colin responded softly through clenched teeth. “If you’re rejecting me, that’s pretty personal. It’s not like I throw myself at a woman every day. I thought we had a spark between us. There was certainly a spark last night. And back at the Carlyle. But I guess your decisions are as volatile as the weather down here.” Walking over to the crew, his voice loud, calm, and smooth, he acted as if nothing had happened. “C’mon,” he said to them, dropping to his knees, “I’ll show you city folk how to make a proper campfire.”

  Damn it, she turned hot and cold as easily as a bathroom faucet. She had wanted him to kiss her. He was sure of that. But then she turned herself off with her usual aplomb. Well, if she could shut him down that easily, she wasn’t as interested in him as he’d thought. Hoped, even. Here he was, willing to take a bit of a gamble by making a move on her, but she wouldn’t take the same risk. What was she afraid of? Was it worth it for him to try and find out? She seemed to not even understand herself. Maybe she was a crazy person. That’d serve him right for venturing where he shouldn’t.

  He hoped he’d stay pissed at her. That would ensure he’d stay far away. He’d forget about the kiss. Even though it’d made him feel alive for the first time in, well, he didn’t know how long. But it had been a while.

  How could a simple kiss give him such a rush? What did the school kids call it? “First base?” Yet its impact was hard felt. A surge of heat that rushed down from his head to his groin. A lightning bolt flash from a mere kiss, one as hot and fiery as her. After so many years of meaningless one-night stands, the intensity in which he wanted her was as frightening as any battlefield. But after “want” came “neediness.” And he wasn’t about to be needy. She could be offering sex as hot as hellfire, but he wasn’t going to let himself melt down to nothing. Not that she was giving him the chance. She’d broken off whatever connection they’d had pretty quickly.

  But it wasn’t like he stole the kiss. She had yielded to him. Opened her mouth to him. Invited him. And just when he thought she was truly his for the taking, she shut him down. Sure, he had been the one who broke off the kiss. But it was she who broke off their prospects. He shouldn’t have broken off their embrace, though. Audience be damned. So what if the others caught them going at it? They weren’t school kids, afraid of their parents walking in. In fact, maybe the others would’ve learned a thing or two. Learned not to hold back when a beautiful woman wanted you. To take joy where and when you could get it. No matter what the circumstances or surroundings. If he could only learn that lesson himself.

  Stephanie watched the campfire. Listened to the crackle from it. The men sat around like children, their sticks in the flames, their marshmallows roasting. Tom’s vodka flask was passed around, never seeming to empty. They were sitting on the hard-packed ground, cross-legged. Tom, James, and Devon, either drunk from the alcohol, or on a high from this strange new experience, had been laughing since the moment the first marshmallow went up in a great big ball of flame. They had been so startled by the blaze that Devon shook the stick until the charred sticky cube fell into the fire pit. In seconds, the marshmallow became nothing more than a red-hot ember.

  Up in flames, Stephanie thought, eyes welling up from both the smoke and her emotions. Just like my chance to be with Colin. She glanced over at him. He was seemingly engaged with the others. But more quiet. Well, that suited her. She wasn’t in an extroverted mood, either.

  “Let’s go,” Colin suddenly announced, instantly commanding the attention of the drunken marshmallow-burning lot. “The air boats will be here soon.”

  Devon snapped his hand across his forehead, military salute style. “Yes, sir. You lead the way. We’re here to do as you command,” he slurred.

  “Not all of you,” Colin muttered.

  Stephanie was certain Colin was talking to her. She fought to keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks. But if anyone noticed her embarrassment, she could at least blame it on the Everglade’s heat. Feeling teary, she stared blankly into the flames and tried to keep her emotions in check. Moments later, black smoke a
nd a popping noise caught her attention. She realized the fiery pit was also emitting a hiss, like water thrown into a hot frying pan. Crap.

  “Hey, Colin,” Devon slurred louder, “it’s raining, dude!”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Colin answered with a dryness quite opposite the weather.

  “I thought you said this isn’t the rainy season,” James accused.

  “It isn’t. But nothing down here is a hard and fast rule,” Colin answered.

  “Do you think it’s going to get worse?” James asked, apprehension apparent from his shaky voice.

  Face turned up toward the rain, sharp needle-like stings assaulted her skin. But pain was the least of their problems. Large billowing gray clouds swept overhead, trailed close behind by fast moving, thick, sheets of darkness. An ominous rumble in the distance didn’t sound very far off.

  She saw Colin throw a bucket of water over the fire and dig around the pit with a stick to extinguish any embers left. “The boats will be here any minute,” he said loudly over the pitch of the rising wind. “We need to move.”

  Nobody was dumb enough to argue with him, and they shoved the last of their equipment and belongings away. Colin seemed to easily bear the weight of his large canvass backpack. The others looked like they were struggling under their lighter burdens. Thankfully, she only had her little bag. She’d never been happier in her life to have traveled light. Still, it wasn’t easy going. Single-file, they slogged through the wet brush and tree limbs, trying to keep up with him.

  The trek to the boat, twenty more minutes away, was becoming unbearable. She fought to pick up the pace, but her soles stuck to the mud. Worse, her feet rubbed up against the hard, new leather. Blisters were brewing with the same ferocity of the incoming storm. She knelt down, her knee squishing into the mud, to tug a boot off. She’d go quicker barefoot anyway, and it was critical to keep up with the group. But the darkened sky, dense foliage, and stinging rain, made it difficult to see. In fact, when she looked up to see her group, she saw nothing. They were gone.

  Gone.

  Chapter 8

  “What the hell are you doing?” Colin screamed at her over the rain. His sudden appearance was welcomed, despite the chastisement, and Stephanie almost sobbed in relief.

  “Colin! I’m sorry. I just stopped for a second to take these boots off. They were slowing me down—”

  “Are you trying to get killed?”

  “No, of course not, I—”

  “Then get moving!”

  She picked up her boots, hugging the bulky mass against her chest, and lumbered behind Colin in bare feet as quickly as she could. “Where are they?”

  “They’ve gone on ahead. When I saw you were missing, I turned back to get you. They are . . .” His voice could no longer be heard over the howling wind, now whipping at an amazing speed. The force blew behind them as they staggered forward. Rain and tangled hair, torn loose from the braid, cut across Stephanie’s face. “It’s a straight line to the boats from here,” Colin screamed over to her, “they’ll—”

  Crack!

  A massive tree limb crashed down mere steps ahead of them, the noise of it louder than the thunder. Recoiling in fear, she dropped the boots into a tangle of brush below her.

  “Oh, my G—”

  “We have to keep going,” Colin yelled back to her. He bent down to grab her shoes, tied the laces together, and threw them over his shoulder. Then he dragged her trembling self forward. “Just follow me,” he called out, lifting a foot over the tree limb. When Stephanie hesitated, he stopped mid-step to grab her by the waist and hoist her over the massive log.

  “Thanks. But I could have done that,” she said weakly after he put her down.

  “Act prideful later. Now’s the time to move.”

  Silently, she took his hand and let him lead her. Desperate to keep calm, she ignored the biting pain of her bare feet and focused on the warmth of his hand. Shielding her eyes from the stinging rain, she squinted until she saw a clearing.

  “Thank God we made it!” she screamed over the wind.

  “We didn’t make it,” he spat out. “The boats have already left.”

  Stephanie sank into the mud on her hands and knees, wondering whether it was tears or rain running down her face.

  “Damn it,” Colin exclaimed. “Come with me.” He reached down to yank her off her feet. Bracing as branches heavy with rain swung at them, he led her back into the tree line. Each time she stumbled in her bare feet, he grabbed her waist to right her.

  Maybe she was trying to get both of them killed, he thought bitterly. What the hell would make her stop in the middle of a storm? He had no idea. Truly, she was a crazy person. But he hadn’t wanted to leave her here alone. As soon as he saw she was missing, he’d known he was going back to find her. In the middle of a damned storm.

  Stomping his way through the sharp vegetation, dragging her along by the hand, he let out a sigh so forceful it almost sounded like a spit. He really had to get over this whole “protect women at all costs” thing. Shouldn’t that apply only to women who didn’t create the dangerous situation themselves? he grumbled to himself. The women in the military had the smarts to keep up with the group.

  He heard Stephanie curse and reluctantly turned around to see how she was faring. Apparently, quite poorly. Mud streaked her arms and legs. Loose strands of her long hair were plastered to her face. Drenched clothes clung to her. It was her expression, though, that caught his attention the most. Her lower lip trembled, but her narrow, steady gaze showed she was confident they’d survive. She was obviously scared but determined to stay strong.

  Instantly he felt himself warm back up to her. He was being unfair. It wasn’t as if Special Ops had trained her. He doubted she had even gone camping before. Maybe she hadn’t even been in a camping store before. Her occasional walks through Central Park in high heels definitely did not count. She was doing her best in this situation. Showing bravery. She had just made the mistake of letting herself fall behind the group. He had to cut the city slicker some slack. “I am going to make sure you’re safe,” he called out to her.

  “I know,” she called back, raising her voice above the wind.

  How much more trudging, and where they were trudging to, she had no idea. After what seemed like hours, with the weather only getting worse, they stopped among a dense thicket of tree branches. The leaves were tightly knitted together, allowing only light trickles of rain to penetrate.

  “I’ll make camp here,” Colin said gruffly. Reaching for some downed tree limbs, leaves and a few palm fronds, he propped the vegetation together to make a structure with three walls and a roof. It looked like a New York City bus shelter. The wood limbs functioned as the framework. The leaves and palm fronds acted as shingles. “It’s called a lean-to,” he explained. “It’ll serve as our tent.”

  She watched him reach into his bag to pull out what looked like long, wide sheets of aluminum foil. Only these sheets were made of fabric. “One sheet will be our roof, and one sheet will be our floor.”

  “What a great idea,” she marveled.

  “Not great, but good enough. I hope. Unfortunately, the rain’s coming down hard and we need protection now. I don’t have the time to make an elevated platform, so this will have to suffice.”

  “An elevated platform? You mean like on a subway?”

  First bus shelters, then subways. She looked around. This sure didn’t look like Brooklyn to her.

  He almost laughed, her question was so stupid. No, correction. Her question was so New York. Right, not her fault. Got to keep giving the city slicker slack. “No, not like being on an ‘el’ train.” Within minutes Colin had grabbed more loose branches from the forest floor. “My kind of elevated platform is made out of branches. A survivalist uses it in a swamp situation, such as
we have now.”

  “Why?”

  He exhaled hard. He wanted to finish building their shelter. She wanted to play twenty questions. How much more explaining could he possibly do? “To keep one’s body off the ground. It’s drier that way, and there’s less risk of being bitten.”

  “Oh.”

  He looked over to see all the blood drain from her face. He sighed. “We’ll be fine. The aluminum sheets will at least help with the dampness, if not animals and insects.”

  “Oh,” she said again, not sounding any happier than she had the first time.

  Draping one of the aluminum sheets over the branches of the structure’s roof, he pulled yet more branches on top of the fabric. Soon the raining in the shelter stopped, except for the open side. He placed the other aluminum sheet on the floor, and then hung the remaining branches so they protruded from the roof, creating gutter rails. “Get in,” he ordered.

  He watched her scurry inside on hands and knees, shifting upright once inside. Following her inside, he then sat cross-legged opposite her. Silence permeated for several minutes until they caught their breath. Looking intently at her, he saw her draw patterns with her finger on the aluminum floor. Suddenly she looked up at him, eyes wide.

  “You all right?” he asked coolly.

  She couldn’t tell what emotion he was masking. Was he concerned for their safety? Pissed off at her? Make that even more pissed at her. All of the above? She almost preferred he was infuriated, because if he was concerned for their safety, they must really be in trouble. Big trouble. She trembled.