A Thrill to Remember (7 page)

“Kiss me,” she commands.

His blood is at the boiling point, and he’s clutched so hard with need he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to control himself.

But he must. For her sake. No matter how much his body aches for a frenzied coupling, he will not surrender to the instincts raging within. Not yet.

Apparently, however, she is feeling just as desperate as he, for she opens her eyes, takes hold of his shirt in her fists and rips the garment from his body. She splays her palms against his chest and then savagely sinks her nails into his flesh. Her breath hisses out through clenched teeth in a sultry sizzle.

His bulge is straining hard against his leather pants. Roughly, he grasps her wrists and pins her hands above her head.

“Is this how you want it? Fast and hard?”

In answer, she just growls and raises her head to nip at his throat.

He claims her mouth with a merciless kiss that leaves them both gasping for air. He glides his fingertips down her raised arms to her exposed breasts. She shivers at his featherlight touch, obviously confused, but also delighted by his change in tactics.

Using great care, he unhooks her bustier completely and pushes it open until her flat, ivory-white stomach is bare. He makes quick work of the tap pants, shoving them past her hips. The delicate wisp of red satin tangles around her ankles. She helps, kicking the panties off into the darkness.

Restlessly, she undulates her hips, calling him back down to her. When he lowers his head and takes one of her pert nipples into his mouth, a low guttural moan slips from her lips.

He caresses his hands along the smooth, firm planes of her body, exploring every inch of her. She is any man’s dream lover. The fantasy woman to end all fantasies, and at long last, she is his.

He wants her so badly he can barely think, but at the same time, he wants to draw this night out and make it last forever.

Cupping her hips in his palms, he lifts her up and she gyrates against his erection.

“Take off the pants,” she commands. “Now. I want to see you. Touch you. Taste you.”

At the notion of her tasting his shaft, he almost comes right then and there.

Control. Hold on to your control.

But how impossible this wonderful woman was making that task. She was actively licking his chest while he fumbled with the drawstrings of his pants.

Then he was naked, his pants flung out into the empty cabin, and her fingers—oh, her wicked fingers—were wrapping around his hard cock.

“I’ve spent my life waiting for you,” she whispers. “Take me, Caleb. Make me your own.”

“Mail call!” Quinn Scofield’s booming voice, and the loud thumping of his feet on the staircase, yanked Caleb from his X-rated reverie.

Cricket on a crutch! He’d been fantasizing about his best friend’s baby sister, and now here was Quinn, coming through his front door.

Caleb tossed the Christmas photograph aside, grabbed the high-powered field binoculars from the table and pulled them into his lap to disguise the vestige of his arousal.

“Hey, Greenleaf.” Quinn came grinning into the cabin, stomping snow off his boots and bringing the cold, late-October air with him. “What’s happening?”

If only you knew, you’d probably punch my lights out.

“Morning, Scofield. You didn’t have to make a trip up here. I was headed into Bear Creek tomorrow to pick up supplies.”

Quinn dumped the mail onto the table. “Truth is, buddy, we were all a little worried about you. I know you’re the strong, silent type, but we’ve hardy seen you in town since the Metropolitan party.”

“No need to worry about me. I’m just tired of the matchmaking and having women throw themselves at me. It’s getting harder and harder to tell the sincere ones from the gold diggers.”

“Old Gus commented that you might have a harder time finding an honest woman because of your money.”

“Don’t you people have anything better to do than gossip about me?”

“As the last remaining bachelor, Greenleaf, you’re a cause for much speculation.”

“Lucky me. Let me guess—old Gus has got a pool going about my future marital status.”

Quinn’s grin was answer enough.

Caleb shook his head. “So what’s your bet?”

“I’m predicting you’ll be swept off your feet by the pretty interim park ranger who takes your place while you’re in Seattle. You’ll get married here in the ranger station next summer—I forecast a June wedding—have sixteen kids and live happily ever after.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to Seattle.”

But even as he denied this statement, Caleb’s heart rate accelerated. There was no way Quinn could know he’d spent the past six weeks debating whether or not to go to Seattle after Meggie.

Quinn reached in the mail sack, withdrew a letter and passed it over to Caleb.

“Have you been reading my mail?” He frowned.

“Didn’t have to. Talked to Meggie this morning.”

“Meggie?”

“You know, my sister. Your ex-stepsister-in-law.”

“I know who she is. What does her calling you have to do with me going to Seattle?” His gut twisted with a mix of excitement and hope.

“Read the letter.”

Caleb stared down at the return address of King County Health Department, Seattle, Washington, then flipped the envelope over and opened the flap.

The letter was from the director of public health services. There had been a massive outbreak of a tick-born illness in Seattle and the surrounding counties. The ailment mimicked Lyme disease. The local medical community was woefully lacking in knowledge about the type of ticks that caused the condition. They needed an expert to come to Seattle, all expenses paid, and give a series of lectures at area hospitals for the next four weeks. Caleb’s name had been recommended by one of the board members, Meggie Scofield. The director had worked out a deal with the park services of Alaska. In exchange for Caleb coming to Seattle, one of Washington’s naturalists would take his place in the Tongass during his absence.

It was the perfect excuse to go to Seattle. At the thought of seeing Meggie again, Caleb’s chest squeezed.

He had to remind himself this meant nothing. Meggie didn’t know he was Don Juan. She had suggested his name to her superiors simply because he knew more about insects than anyone in the Pacific Northwest, not because she secretly wanted to see him again.

Unless something on a subconscious level was at work here. He looked over at Quinn. “Meggie recommended me?”

“Sure. Why not? You are the best bug guy around. She’s on the board. In fact, she’s on the committee that’s throwing a Halloween charity ball to raise money for public awareness of Lyme disease and other tick-born illnesses. If you take the job, maybe you’ll be in time to attend.”

Caleb pushed the envelope away. Apprehension took hold of him. What if he did go to Seattle, tell Meggie he was Don Juan, and she rejected him?

“I don’t know. A month is a long time to be away.”

“Come on, Greenleaf. You need to get out of the forest every once in a while, and you said yourself you’re tired of all these women throwing themselves at you. No one in Seattle except Meggie will know you’re a millionaire bachelor. Take off—have a good time.”

“I suppose it would be a vacation of sorts.”

“Darn right. Go for it, man. Get Meggie to show you around town and introduce you to some of her cute single girlfriends.”

“I thought I was suppose to fall in love with the interim ranger and have sixteen kids.”

“Come on, everyone needs a plan B. What if the interim ranger is a guy?”

“Good point.”

Caleb thought of the Don Juan costume stuffed in the top of his closet. A Halloween party charity event put on by Meggie’s hospital. He could show up a few days early, take the costume with him to Seattle, wear it to the party, and then he could take off the mask and show her face-to-face that he was the man who’d enflamed her that night in the forest.

Take a gamble. Roll the dice. Go to Seattle.

He had nothing to lose.

Nothing, that is, except his heart.

“SO TELL ME MORE ABOUT this cute, rich friend of yours giving the symposiums.”

“Caleb?” Meggie glanced over at Wendy.

“You got more than one cute, rich, lecture-giving friend?”

“No.” Meggie chuckled. “Just Caleb.”

They were taking their daily jog around the park adjacent to their downtown apartment complex. A foggy mist had settled on trees resplendent with a vivid splash of autumn color, dampening the ground and lending a slight chill to the air.

“Caleb.” Wendy rolled his name on her tongue. “I like it. Sounds rugged and woodsy and he-mannish.”

“He is.”

“Ooh.” She gave a little shiver of delight that for some unknown reason irritated Meggie. “Tell me more. What’s he like?”

“He’s really not your type.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Wendy slowed, but Meggie kept going.

“You’re a party girl,” she called over her shoulder.

“And?”

“You’ll spend a month’s salary on a pair of Manolo Blahniks.”

“So?”

“Caleb lives in a park ranger station in the middle of the Tongass National Forest, Wendy. He uses a two-way radio for a telephone. Not too many occasions turn up for putting on the Ritz.”

“Hey, wait up! I’m falling behind,” Wendy hollered, but Meggie never slowed her pace.

Why should she care who Caleb went out with? Besides, the guy needed a little fun in his life. He was much too serious, and if anyone could lighten him up, effervescent Wendy could do the trick.

You feel protective toward him. He’s practically like a brother. You don’t want to see him get hurt, that’s all, Meggie reassured herself. Her feelings for Caleb were strictly platonic.

Then why are you feeling jealous? a tiny voice in the back of her head whispered. But she ignored the obnoxious nudge. Meggie had enough trouble dealing with this obsession she’d developed for Don Juan without throwing Caleb Greenleaf into the mix.

What was wrong with her, anyway? Why couldn’t she forget about Don Juan? She knew he wasn’t good for her, and yet night after night she had hauntingly erotic dreams about the masked man coming to her bed and making fierce, passionate love to her.

Probably because he had curtailed their sexual adventure that night in the cabin. Meggie felt certain if they had consummated their romantic assignation she would not be fixated on him. It was a clear case of wanting what she couldn’t have.

Wendy, panting and red-faced, finally caught up with her. “Witch. Why didn’t you slow down?”

“Interval training. You burn more calories this way,” Meggie said, slowing at last and feeling a bit ashamed of herself for sprinting ahead. She reduced her speed to a fast walk, and Wendy shot her a grateful smile.

“So about Caleb…”

Obviously, her friend wasn’t going to let go of the subject. Meggie sighed. “Yes?”

“What’s he like?”

“Tall, dark hair, deep-blue eyes, handsome as a Greek statue.”

“Yum, tell me more.”

“He’s quiet, somber, deeply into nature and very intelligent. That’s why I recommended him as a lecturer. Actually, I’m pretty surprised he accepted. He generally hates to leave Alaska.”

“The strong, silent type.” Wendy licked her lips. “I’m intrigued.”

“He’s a great guy.” Meggie gazed across the street at a schoolyard where a group of kids played soccer. Why watching those kids at play should make her feel wistful, she had no idea. Maybe because she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever have any kids of her own. “A good listener. But you would probably think he was boring.”

“Hmm.” Wendy stopped walking.

Meggie halted. “Hmm, what?”

“Why don’t you want me to go out with him?”

“I never said that.”

“Come on, you tell me how great he is on the one hand but warn me off on the other. Saving him for yourself, are you? That’s a little selfish, considering your almost religiouslike conversion after your naughty costumed tryst with the suave Don Juan.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not interested in Caleb.”

“Why not? He sounds perfect.”

“For one thing, he’s younger than I am.”

“Oh, big deal.” Wendy waved a hand.

“And he’s Jesse’s stepbrother.”

Wendy made a face. “I can see where that could cause problems, but still…”

“He loves Alaska, and I love Seattle.”

“True love conquers all.”

“I just don’t have those kinds of feelings for him.”

“Okay then. Since we got that cleared up, you gotta introduce him to me.”

Meggie swallowed. She wasn’t sure Caleb would appreciate being fixed up, but Wendy was a lot of fun to be around. Even if she and Caleb didn’t click, maybe they could at least have a good time together.

“All right. I’ll introduce you.”

“Hot dog!” Wendy did a little jig, and then gave Meggie a hug. “A decent date prospect for the first time in weeks. Megs, you’re a doll.”

Yeah. But how was Caleb going to take the news?

THE MINUTE HIS PLANE touched down at SeaTac Airport, Caleb remembered why he didn’t like big cities.

Crowds. Noise. Traffic congestion. Pollution.

He’d been to Seattle only once before and he’d had the same reaction. The frantic pace gave him a headache. Hurry, hurry. Where was everyone dashing off to in such an all-fired rush?

It took him a good forty-five minutes to find the baggage claim terminal and retrieve his luggage. Then another ten minutes wading through the jostling throng to find the taxi stand.

Feeling like a stranger in a strange land, he suspected the cabbie was driving him around in circles, but he had no proof. When the guy pulled up in front of his hotel and told him the fare was thirty-six dollars, his suspicions were confirmed.

He tried arguing, but the driver suddenly pretended he didn’t speak English. Grudgingly, Caleb paid the fare, but as he turned to deliver his bags to the bellhop, a scruffy-looking teen on a bicycle darted up the hotel’s circular drive, leaned down and scooped up his briefcase. The kid disappeared before Caleb realized what had happened.

Dammit!

All the notes for his lecture were in that briefcase. Stupid kid was going to be disappointed when he pried open the case and discovered it contained nothing more than a treatise on ticks and half a power bar.

An hour later, after a powwow with hotel security and a Seattle police officer who was not optimistic about Caleb’s ever seeing his briefcase again, he was finally ensconced in his room.

If it wasn’t for Meggie, he would have been sorely tempted to turn around and head straight back to Bear Creek. But she had staked her reputation on him, recommending him as a guest lecturer. He wasn’t going to let her down. Even if he would have to wing his speech.

Besides, how could he leave Seattle without seeing her again? At the very notion of meeting up with her his heart went thumpa-thumpa-thumpa.

Call her. Let her know you got a lower fare by coming in on Friday night instead of Sunday, a little voice whispered.

Caleb circled the phone. “Go ahead, Greenleaf. Call her.”

Determined, he perched on the edge of the bed, reached for the telephone and punched in her number.

It rang three times and he almost hung up.

“Hello.”

Meggie’s voice was so breathy, so overwhelmingly sexy, he sat stunned for a good ten seconds, his fingers wrapped tightly around the receiver.

“Hello?” she repeated.

Heat, sultry and sudden, swamped his body. How he wanted her!

Caleb opened his mouth to say, “Hi Megs, it’s me. I just got into town,” but instead it seemed as if alien forces captured his throat and took possession of his larynx. He’d never in a million years intended on saying what he said next.

“Buenos dias, belladonna,” he crooned in Don Juan’s husky accent. “Are you surprised to hear from me?”

MEGGIE ALMOST DROPPED the receiver as her stomach slid into her sensible bedroom slippers.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

She plastered a palm against her bare chest above where her towel covered her breasts. She had just stepped out of the shower, following her jog with Wendy, when the telephone rang.

Water from her wet hair trickled down her back. She heard the distant whizzing of cars on the freeway. Tasted the tangy flavor of her own desire on the tip of her tongue.

For the past six-and-a-half weeks she had scarcely thought of anything besides that magical night with Don Juan when she’d dared to let go of her inhibitions and had discovered a whole new side of herself.

Meggie Scofield could be as wild and wanton as the next girl.

Her pulse was pounding a rhythmic tyranny. She hadn’t really expected him to come to Seattle, or even call her, for that matter.

Meggie’s knees loosened. She groped for one of the straight-back chairs gathered around the kitchen table, and sat down hard.

“Don Juan?” she whispered.

“Do you have any other Spanish lovers?”

Ripples of desire undulated up her spine. What was it about the man that caused such sensations to engulf her?

“I have been unable to forget you.”

She heard the sly smile in his voice, felt a corresponding hitch in her belly. She laughed as much to dispel the strange achiness inside her than anything else.

“You’re a little hard to forget yourself.”

“So it was not my imagination. You felt for me the same as I felt for you.” His rich masculine sound wrapped around her like a blanket.

“It wasn’t your imagination,” she murmured, having no idea why she said that. What in the heck did she want from him? What did she think she was doing?

“I dream about you day and night. Night and day.”

“Oh?” She forced herself to sound cool, casual.

“Yes. I think of the way you move, so graceful, like a swan skimming over a peaceful lake.”

It was corny and hokey and blatantly a line but, heaven help her, she was falling for it. With shaky fingers, she shoved a spike of soppy hair behind her ear.

“Your walk is so sensuous. Perhaps because you have such beautiful legs. The shape of them, so slender and feminine, excites me beyond measure.”

“Really?”

She was a weak, weak woman. The man was no good for her and she knew it. She should hang up the phone on him right now and forget he’d ever called.

But she did not.

“Your legs and your butt excite me.”

“My butt?” His use of frank language both startled her and turned her on.

“Yes, you possess a fine bottom. Nothing inflames a man more than a woman with a narrow waist and generous hips.”

He thought her big rear end was sexy? Pensively, Meggie reached around and patted her fanny.

“If I were there with you right now, I would pinch your butt. Not too hard, just enough to let you know how much I admire it.”

Hang up! Hang up!

Meggie cleared her throat. “Then what?”

His chuckle was smooth and seductive. “Ah.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“I don’t.”

“But you do.”

What was he insinuating? That he wanted to have phone sex with her? She’d never talked dirty over the telephone and she wasn’t about to start now.

Prude.

I’m not, Meggie silently insisted.

Prove it. Step outside the box.

“What are you wearing?” he asked.

She glanced down at the beach towel wrapped around her midsection and winced. Think dowdy. Stop this before it gets started.

“A sweatsuit,” she lied.

“I do not believe you.”

“Okay, what do you think I’m wearing?”

Dammit, Meggie, why did you say that?

“I think perhaps you are wearing baby doll pajamas. Or maybe a silky, sheer black negligee.”

Meggie laughed.

“Or maybe…” His voice, already deep, dropped another octave “…you’re wearing nothing at all.”

Whew, that was too close for comfort.

“But I hope you are wearing something,” he continued. “Because I’d like to imagine undressing you. I’d like to slowly slide those skinny black negligee straps off your shoulders.”

“Umm.”

“I wish I could kiss you,” he said. “Would you like that?”

Unbidden, she imagined Don Juan there with her, nibbling her lips, his tongue gliding over her mouth. She realized then she was panting in short, fevered gasps.

“Yes,” she murmured helplessly, “yes.”

“And then I would like to run my hot tongue over your gorgeous bare breasts.”

She sucked in her breath and unknotted the towel.

“Stroke yourself. Pretend I am there. That it is my fingers touching you. Remember what it felt like?”