Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set

  “Hey, aren’t you guys going to dance?”

  The spell broken, Wes and Lillian turned as one to stare at Mindy. Mindy stared back with innocent blue eyes, hands on her hips, head cocked to one side.

  “They need one more couple for a square and I told the caller I’d come get you guys. You’re going to dance, aren’t you?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer. Even before Wes could get to his feet, Mindy headed back to the shelter house, shouting, “My new friends are on their way!”

  “Come on.” Wes reached down and pulled Lillian to her feet. “We’ll dance now and talk later.”

  At least that’s what Lillian thought he’d said…talk. But she wasn’t about to ask him, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he really said.

  Chapter Seven

  One by one lights winked off across the sparsely-occupied campground as Lillian and Wes made their way back down the black-topped road to where their tent awaited them. The dancing had turned out to be a whole lot more fun than Wes had expected and it had had the added benefit of not giving them time to talk between sets. Lillian had seemed to enjoy herself, too. Rather than standing off by herself, as he’d half expected, she had engaged in conversation with some of the other women. He’d watched as she’d laughed with them, her face flushed from the exertion of the dance, her hair messy from the bouncing steps. Right then, she’d been about the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he’d seen his share of beautiful women.

  It was the first time since this misbegotten adventure began that she hadn’t either been carping at him or furious at something he’d said and done, so he’d taken care not to upset her in any way. He’d had time to think, too, about her saying she didn’t have time to do anything but work. That wasn’t right. A woman like her ought to have someone to share the load, even if it was just coming home to a man who’d listen to her talk about her day and chew over her worries with her.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Her quiet voice brought his attention back to the here and now.

  “They aren’t worth even that much.” He reached down and linked her fingers in his, swinging their hands as they walked down the road. “You had more fun tonight that you expected to, didn’t you?”

  “It wasn’t bad.”

  “Wasn’t bad,” he scoffed. “Come on, now, admit it. You had fun out there, even if you didn’t have much of a partner.”

  “You can say that again,” she teased. “About not being with the best dancer. I swear you broke my foot stepping on it a hundred times.”

  They’d reached their campsite, where the dull glow of the last of the fire’s embers still shone. The night air was rich with the sounds of the woods around them, the crickets chirping and the soft coo of night birds. The sky was dark. Drifting clouds shadowed the moon’s soft glow that lit their path. Wes stopped by the fire to scoop dirt over the few hot coals, and to give Lillian a chance to have the tent to herself. He tried not to let his imagination take over as she unzipped the door and stepped inside, but the images came anyway. Of the sleek curve of her back as she bent down to unlace her boots. Of the silky flesh exposed when she wiggled the shirt over her head, and tugged the leggings down. Of the firm breasts set free when she slipped off her bra, and…

  He took a deep breath and headed for the tent. It would take every bit of will power he had to resist temptation tonight. He tried to dredge up the determination of this afternoon, his own vow to remember that he never got involved with settling-down women, but the vision his mind had created was too strong.

  He wanted her. Dear lord, how he wanted her. Moonshine cast a dim light through the mesh window, allowing him to find his way in the tent without stepping on Lillian. She’d huddled down in the sleeping bag, with the downy covering pulled up to her nose. Wes thought she was watching him, but it was hard to tell. He hesitated before pulling off his own clothes, knowing he would be lost if he felt her soft body against his. Then he remembered her get-up of the night before and stripped down to his boxers. She probably had on enough clothes for six frigid old maids.

  Dropping to his hands and knees, he crawled across the narrow space to his side of the sleeping bag and slipped in. And immediately encountered warm, soft flesh. His body, primed by all hours of Lillian’s hot-and-cold act, responded exactly the way he didn’t want it to. And his mind, traitor that it was, went on vacation, leaving his libido very much in control.

  Any tiny remnant of self-restraint he might have still possessed was lost when Lillian pressed up against him, wearing nothing but a tiny bit of silk that he supposed was considered a nightgown. When she whispered, “Kiss me, Wes,” there was nothing he could do but obey. This time, there was nothing tentative between them. This wasn’t an embrace of promise but one of intention.

  He slid his hands under the wisp of fabric separating them. Her skin was as soft as he had imagined. She smelled good, as though she’d put on something meant to drive him crazy. Her breath was sweet when his lips met hers, her fingers gentle as they teased along his shoulders.

  He was lost. He knew it. He didn’t give a damn about anything but the woman in his arms.

  ****

  This was so wrong. This was so incredibly right. The scruff of Wes’s day-old beard tickled her cheek when his mouth touched hers. His hands curved around her breasts, his thumbs sliding along her hard nipples. Desire began to build deep in her belly, white hot and demanding. She tensed when Wes’s lips moved down her neck and continued further on, his teeth replacing his fingers at her breasts. She whimpered when he pulled away for a few damnable seconds, long enough to turn onto his back and bring her atop him.

  Lillian settled herself on Wes’s lean body, trying to make every bit of her touch him. Forget foreplay. Those dances had been enough. Driven by a wild burning need, she wanted it hard and fast. She moaned as his hands and mouth began an exploration, teasing and nipping until she was mindless with desire. She raised her body and slid onto his hard shaft, delighting in the groan as he thrust inside her. She interlaced her fingers with his and raised their hands above his head, taking control until rational thinking fled.

  The cry she heard was her own as she climaxed in sync with Wes, her body throbbing at the release. His arms wrapped around her in an embrace when she slid off, his voice whispering, “That was incredible” and “Are you okay?” as she regained control.

  She should have felt guilty, she supposed. He was a stranger. She was choosy about the men she slept with. All she felt was satisfaction and a fatigue that kept her in his arms until sleep overtook her.

  ****

  The damn boat was going to sink. Fear of going under brought Wes out of the dream and wide-awake when he realized the rushing water he heard was right outside. Pounding against the thin walls of the tent, in fact, which was being shaken by the wind.

  “Wake up, it’s a typhoon.” He jiggled Lillian’s shoulders, bringing her to a fast, full wakefulness.

  “Is that rain?” Incredulity filled her voice.

  “It’s a frigging storm.” Wes was up and grabbing his clothes. He found his jeans and shoes easily before feeling around on the floor for his shirt. “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “But I’m naked.” Lillian sat on the mattress, still in the sleeping bag.

  “Get dressed then.” Wes fished through the stack of things he’d gotten her at the yard sale and tossed what he thought were pants and a shirt at her. “Here.”

  “Which ones are they?” Lillian tried to peer at them in the dark.

  “Does it matter? Trust me, no one’s going to notice what you have on.”

  A loud clap of thunder followed by a bright flash ended the conversation. Lillian rolled off the mattress and fished for the clothes Wes had thrown in her direction.

  She wasn’t sure what he had in mind, but anything had to be better than staying here.

  The shimmer of headlights as he climbed out of the tent sent Wes running to the edge of the lot. A dark gr
een pickup with the state park symbol on the side stopped and the driver’s window came down.

  “Get in!” the ranger shouted against the storm.

  Wes raised his arm in understanding and turned to see if he needed to go drag Lil out. To his relief she was rushing toward him. Or, as it turned out, the truck. Wes followed and hopped in beside her.

  “Man, I’m glad to see you,” he said as the ranger dropped the vehicle into gear.

  “You’re my only tenters tonight.” The driver leaned forward to watch the road. “I figured I’d better get you under a roof.”

  That roof turned out to be the small cabin where visitors registered. Wes, soaked to the skin, began to shiver as soon as he was inside. Lillian looked even more miserable. Her hair was plastered against her scalp and she had her arms wrapped around herself. Wes wasn’t sure if it was because she was cold or if she was trying to keep herself together. Hothouse flowers didn’t do well in the wild.

  “Here.” The ranger opened a door and pulled out a small plug-in heater. “This may help take the edge off.”

  Wes thought there was some phrase that described a situation like this, running a space heater on high while an air conditioner cooled the full interior. Not that he cared. Being in a real building with walls and real doors was enough.

  A crackle from the ranger’s hip sent the man back out in the storm.

  “Got some trees down over the road,” he said. “I’ve got to get out there. Will you two be okay?”

  “Doing fine.” Wes smiled. “If you don’t mind my having a cup of that.”

  He pointed toward a coffee pot. The ranger laughed.

  “Help yourself. By the time I get back, it’s going to be thick as mud anyway.”

  ****

  “I think it’s letting up,” Lillian finally said. The words were hardly out of her mouth when thunder crashed again. She squealed a tiny eek and turned toward Wes, burying her face against his chest, clinging to him as if he was a life raft and she was adrift in the sea. He felt the desperation in her embrace the same way he felt her heart’s fast beat, and the shallowness of her breathing. She was scared to death, despite being inside, and he had to do something quickly. So he began talking.

  “My grandfather used to stand out on the porch and watch a storm.” His voice was low and as soothing as his hands holding hers as he spoke. “I’d curl up on the couch, a scared little kid sure we were about to die, and Grandpa’d be out there watching Mother Nature throw a fit.

  “I was never sure how my folks felt about storms, though. Dad wasn’t one to show his feelings about anything, and Mom would tell me things like thunder was just the angels bowling. I suppose she was trying to keep my mind off it until the storm passed.”

  He kept on talking, telling Lillian other stories from his childhood, taking his mind off the now-diminishing storm as well. She relaxed as the storm died, leaning into Wes’s comforting embrace, her eyelids drooping.

  “It’s pretty much over.” He spoke gently. “Ready to go back to bed?”

  “Okay,” Lillian muttered sleepily. She stood helped her up and leaned against him, stumbling, as they walked back to their site. Wes finally took pity on her and picked her up. She curled against him, eyes closed. Inside the tent, he laid her on the bed and covered up. Whispering to her to go to sleep, he crawled back away, knowing he couldn’t join her until he got his wet clothing off. She’d felt so good in his arms, soft and warm, that he hadn’t realized how soaked he was. Now, though, he was clammy and even more convinced that he’d never make a camper.

  The sound of Lillian’s gentle breathing assured him she was completely asleep. Rather than fumble in the dark for something dry, he pulled off his denim shorts and slid inside the sleeping bag beside her. She sighed and turned in her slumber. He wrapped his arms around her to draw her close.

  Twenty minutes ago, all he’d wanted to do was possess Lillian Osborne. Yet now all he wanted to do was protect her. And for the first time in his life, the idea of taking care of someone or something besides himself didn’t scare him to death.

  Chapter Eight

  Lillian crawled carefully to the tent opening, listening for Wes’s even snoring to change into something else. It was barely light outside, but bright enough for her that she’d been able to dress quickly when she awakened. Today, she had on the second most disgusting choice of the clothes Wes had brought her, a pair of barely-there shorts in brilliant yellow and a midriff-baring shirt in a violent orange, yellow and purple print. At least she’d brought along enough of her own underwear. She could just imagine what Wes would have brought back if she’d needed those. Some sort of red stretch lace thong, she supposed. The kind she imagined strippers wore before they started taking it all off.

  She quickly laced up her hiking boots. Ugly as they were, these shoes were exactly what she needed for what she was going to do. Picking them was the first, and so far only, thing Wes had done right on this trip. Canvas shoes such as she’d been yearning for yesterday would be ruined in five minutes in the battered green of this campsite.

  The ground beneath her feet squished as she walked across the wide expanse of lawn to the paved road. But her feet stayed dry, thanks to the boots, and unlike her pumps, they didn’t stick where she put them in the ground.

  She walked quickly to the bathhouse, looking from side to side as she went. They were still the only people in their end of the campground, but the big RVs were packed in near the front. Some of her fellow campers had created their own little suburbia, with strings of lights dangling from their trailers’ canvas awnings, and wood-burned signs pounded into the ground, proclaiming their names.

  Even here, there were the haves and the have-nots. She could see the muted glare of a television through the window of one expensive camper, and at another, a mini-refrigerator hummed merrily atop the picnic table.

  And what did she have? A nylon hut, canned food no one in her right mind would eat and Wes. A smile formed on her lips. Even in the short time they’d been together, there had been moments when she could have cheerfully killed him, but oh, could he kiss. Her smile widened. And more than kiss. Her body still tingled where he’d caressed her with his hands and lips in their frantic exploration before the storm.

  Her smile faded. He’d held her during the storm. Wrapped in his arms, she’d felt more protected than she had in a long time. It wasn’t a feeling she trusted. All her life, she’d had to struggle to stand alone. Her father, her brothers, even the few boyfriends she’d managed after her father and brothers cross-examined them, every one of those men had treated her as if she was incapable of running her own life. It was her mother who had offered her the money to start up her own firm, an offer they had both kept hidden from the men in the family.

  Maybe that’s why she was drawn to Wes. He had treated her from the moment they met like a competent human being, capable of making up her own mind. Sure, they’d had their moments just in the short time they’d been together, but he respected her abilities.

  Despite herself, she began to smile again. So his taste in women’s clothing was rotten. At least he’d respected her as a professional, arranging for her to do a little business from this godforsaken hunk of hillside instead of expecting her to catch fish and cook it for him.

  It began to drizzle again while she was in the bathhouse. She groaned when she heard the first raindrops hit the tin roof of the modest structure. The last thing she wanted today was to be stuck inside the tent with Wes all day.

  She brushed her teeth and scrubbed her face, taking longer than necessary to prolong the inevitable. But the rain was still coming down when she finally finished. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and opened the heavy metal door.

  Wes stood at the edge of the concrete surrounding the bathhouse, hunkered down in a plastic rain poncho.

  “Here.” He tossed a square plastic pouch toward her.

  Lillian caught it and unsnapped the fastener. Pulling out the poncho inside, identic
al to Wes’s, she shook it out and slipped it on.

  “I didn’t see these in those boxes Frank left.” She fell in step with Wes, who started for the ranger station.

  “He didn’t leave them. Margie on lot 17 caught me walking past and offered them to me. She said we should keep them, that she had plenty.”

  “Oh.” The plastic stuck to Lillian’s naked parts, and the hem of the garment nearly touched the ground, but she wasn’t about to complain. She was dry and right now, that was all that mattered. The sky hung low and gray, the air heavy with the weight of the rain.

  She shrugged off the hood as they stepped into the small log building where the park ranger sat. Her interest was caught by the state map posted on the wall, and she paid scant attention to the conversation between the two men. She suspected Wes was trying to convince the ranger to bring some more firewood down, since they were getting low again. Or maybe he was just taking advantage of having another man to talk to. She didn’t really care. She was too busy trying to figure out where in the world Frank had stranded them.

  “Okay, sweetie, let’s go.” Wes grabbed her hand and led Lillian back out into the damp. She flipped up her hood and said, “You know, it was a lot drier in there. You could have talked as long as you wanted.”

  Wes handed her a slick brochure, grinning as if he’d just found the cure for the common cold. “How would you like to spend the day somewhere educational, with not a chance of being caught in the rain?”

  “Anything beats the tent,” she said. “I’d love to know how we’re going to do that, though, since we’re still carless and I didn’t see a bus schedule in there.”

  “Read the brochure.” He flipped it open and pointed to the center section. “There’s a whole bunch of caves we can explore. The ranger said to take the path that comes out a little way from us, and it will take us right to them.”

  “Caves?” Lillian echoed.