Danger Zone (17 page)

“What?” she said, turning to look up at him. “May I have that in writing please?”

He bent his head and kissed her lightly on the lips. Before she had a moment to react, it was over. It was as if he wasn’t giving her a chance to make it into anything more.

“You’re a wonder,” he said.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Karen said honestly. “Miss Mandeville suggested it.”

“Do you mind if we don’t give her the credit for it?” Colter said, taking Karen’s hand. “I expect to find her waiting for me inside with a ten inch needle.”

“I’ll protect you,” Karen said valiantly.

“I believe you would,” he answered softly.

Then he took a step back toward the car, tugging her after him. “Come on, I want to see the inside. You have the key?”

“Right in my pocket—assuming this is the place.”

“It has to be.”

“It better be, or whoever owns it is going to be having guests for the evening. I can’t push that glorified tin can another foot tonight.”

They got back in the car and Karen drove it almost to the front door, where a paved turnaround provided a parking space.

“Where’s the water?” Karen asked as she unlocked the door. “I can hear it.”

“I think there’s a sheer drop to the ocean on the other side of the house,” Colter said. “I suggest we don’t do any exploring until tomorrow when we can see where the hell we’re going.”

“Good idea.”

Inside Karen found a switch on the wall near the door and flicked it. Nothing happened.

“Uh-oh,” she said.

“Don’t worry. There’s probably a generator here somewhere. We just have to find it. I didn’t see any power lines so this place must have its own source.”

“I feel like an explorer,” Karen whispered.

He went ahead, stumbling around in the dark until he found a box of candles and lit one. In its glow they could both see a large paneled room with heavy oak furniture and a massive fireplace along one wall.

“There it is,” Colter said, pointing to a tank like affair in one corner. He went to it and fiddled around for a while, then hit the wall switch again.

The room was flooded with light.

They were quiet for a minute, looking around. There were actually two rooms: the one they were in, a combination living room and kitchen, and another one beyond, obviously a bedroom. The place looked fairly new; the appliances in the kitchenette were modern, the rag rugs and print curtains bright and cheerful.

“Who owns this place again?” Colter asked.

“Miss Mandeville’s cousin. He’s a teacher on sabbatical.”

There was a sofa bed against one wall near the fireplace, and Colter walked over to it immediately and sat down. Karen glanced at him anxiously. There were dark rings under his eyes and his shirt was again stained with sweat.

“Stretch out there and I’ll see if there’s a pillow in the other room,” she said to him. “You look beat. I’m afraid we shouldn’t have attempted this long drive so soon.”

“I’m all right,” he said, but he didn’t sound it.

“You should have stayed in the hospital a few more days,” Karen called to him from the bedroom, which contained a large brass bed and a matched set of bleached oak chests. A tiny bathroom opened off it to the right. Karen pulled back the quilted patchwork comforter on the bed and grabbed a pillow from the top of it.

“Karen, I was not going to spend another night in that hospital, even if I had to burn the place down,” he answered as she returned and put the pillow under his head. His hair was damp and his skin felt clammy.

“We’d better change your shirt,” she said to him. “Where’s your bag?”

“Still out in the car,” he said, struggling to a sitting position. “I’ll get it.”

“Stay right where you are,” she replied in a strong voice.

He fell back on the couch, watching her go out.

Karen fetched their things and found a clean shirt for him. She sat on the edge of the sofa and helped him take off the plaid one, slipping it carefully down the arm on his injured side.

“Does this still hurt?” she asked softly, touching the bandage lightly.

“Not much,” he replied huskily, his light eyes flickering, holding hers intently.

“You liar,” she whispered. “I’ll bet it’s killing you.”

“Karen?”

“Mmm?”

“Thanks for arranging all of this,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve been grousing about it, but sometimes I have a little trouble saying what I mean.”

“Sometimes?” she said, teasing. “A little trouble?”

“Okay,” he said, smiling slightly. “I always have a lot of trouble, but I do feel things. I just can’t...” He broke off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“It’s all right,” she said soothingly. “I understand. I really do.”

The shirt he’d taken off was on the floor, and she still held the clean one in her hand. He was naked to the waist and inches away. She fancied she could feel the body heat emanating from him, enveloping her in a cozy glow that would warm her forever.

“You’d better put this on,” she said to him briskly, and he shouldered into it obediently, leaving it unbuttoned.

“It’s gotten quite chilly. I think I’ll start a fire,” she announced, standing and going to the mantel for the matches.

“I think I saw some wood by the door as we came in,” he said, “but you’d better make sure the flue is open first.”

Karen made a nest of some old newspapers she found and put twigs on top of it for kindling. Colter looked on as she brought in the logs he had mentioned.

“Let me get those,” he said, swinging his legs to the floor.

“Please, Steven, I can do it,” Karen said hastily. “Will you kindly stay still? You’re making me very nervous.”

He grumbled under his breath but complied. She soon had the fire going and went rummaging in the kitchenette for something to eat.

“Should have stopped for supplies in town; the cupboard’s bare,” she reported to him. “This refrigerator contains a bottle of tonic water and two limes.”

“Where’s the gin? The guy must be a drinker.”

In one of the cabinets she found a jar of peanut butter and got two spoons from a drawer.

“We’re roughing it this evening,” she said as she sat next to him again. “I’ll go to the store in the morning.”

“Funny tasting peanut butter,” Colter commented as he licked his spoon. “Kind of gummy.”

“It’s a European brand,” Karen answered, looking at the label. “Maybe their peanuts are different.”

He smiled. “You’re being a very good sport about this. It can’t be much fun for you.”

Karen looked at him. Was that what he really thought? Didn’t he know yet how she felt about him?

“What do you mean?” she said casually. “I like peanut butter.”

They finished off the jar and then split the tonic water between them.

“Is the tap water on?” he asked. “I want to use the john.”

Karen went to the sink and turned on one of the spigots. The water came out muddy at first but soon cleared up.

“It looks all right,” she said to him. “There must be a well. These appliances are of British manufacture and seem a little quirky. The taps turn backward.”

He rose unsteadily, supporting himself with one hand on the wall. She ran to help him and they walked together to the bedroom.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” he said as he leaned on her heavily. “I was all right earlier.”

“You’re just done in,” Karen replied, opening the door to the bathroom in front of him. “You have to give yourself a chance to recover.”

“But how long is it going to take?” he asked irritably.

“Longer than you’ve given it,” Karen answered dryly. “I’ll wait right here, okay?”

He nodded and went in. Karen explored the bedroom while he was occupied, checking out the prints on the wall and the books in a case under the window. She looked up as Colter emerged, his hair wet, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

“God, I look like hell,” he said to her. “Have I looked this bad all along? I’m surprised you didn’t feed me to the fish.”

“Didn’t they have mirrors in the hospital?” she asked, grinning.

“Yeah, I avoided them. Now I know why.”

“Why don’t you sit on the bed and rest while I open up that sofa in the other room? ”

He looked at her.

“I think you’re better off in there with the fire and I’ll sleep in here.”

He waited for a long moment, then said, “Okay.”

He was being remarkably agreeable. Karen ascribed it to his exhaustion and told herself to enjoy it while it lasted, which surely couldn’t be long.

She found linens in a hall closet and made up his bed. The fire was burning steadily, and the living room was warm and pleasant. The flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, filling the cottage with an amber radiance.

When she turned to go back for him she saw that he was standing in the doorway between the two rooms, leaning against the jamb, watching her.

“You’re working very hard at this,” he said in a low tone.

“Will you stop getting up and walking around?” Karen said grimly. “I feel like I should tie you to a chair. Don’t you know enough to lie down when you’re sick?”

“I guess not,” he replied. “I’ll probably die standing up, like a horse.”

“Very funny.” She led him to the newly made bed, and there was no mistaking his sigh of gratification when he sank down on it. He turned his head on the pillow and reached up to take her hand. He put it to his lips and kissed it.

“Good night, Florence Nightingale,” he said softly.

“Good night, tough guy,” she answered.

She went to add another log to the fire, and when she looked at him again he was asleep.

* * * *

Colter woke in the middle of the night. His mouth was dry from the peanut butter and the room was stiflingly hot. Karen had built up the fire before she retired, and it was only now burning low.

He felt much better after his long nap and got up to get a drink. On his return to bed he stripped off his clothes and left them on the floor. He always slept raw anyway and the fire had made him warm.

Actually, the fire wasn’t the only thing that had raised his temperature. He’d been dreaming about Karen. Again. She kept telling him how sick he was. He might have warned her that he wasn’t quite as ill as she thought. Not too ill, for example, to contemplate certain activities with her that were guaranteed to keep him sleepless for the rest of the night.

He put one arm behind his head and pulled the sheet over him, staring at the shadow play on the ceiling cast by the dwindling flames. She was so close, right in the next room, and he couldn’t forget it.

He wondered what would happen if he just went in there and got into her bed. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. She would doubtless remind him that he’d said he wanted them to remain friends, give him two aspirin, and pat him on the head. He gritted his teeth. He was waging a war with himself and he was losing. He wanted her so badly now that he was finding it difficult to remind himself of the possible consequences of their involvement.

He just didn’t care anymore.

Suddenly the door to the bedroom opened and Colter shut his eyes, feigning sleep. He heard the padding of bare feet, and then the shifting of the logs as Karen moved them. She was stoking the fire.

He slitted his eyes and looked at her through his lashes. What he saw froze him, and he hardly dared to breathe.

Karen was wearing a floor length batiste nightgown, but as she stood in front of the fire the light shone through it, making it seem almost transparent. Her body was clearly outlined against it, and he could see her as well as if she were naked. His gaze moved over her greedily, taking in the full breasts, their taut nipples stiffened by the night chill, and the line of her back down to her narrow waist. The slight swell of her abdomen curved into a dark triangle of hair at the apex of her legs. Colter swallowed hard. He was so aroused he almost groaned aloud and had to bite his lip to stifle the sound.

Karen finished with the fire and turned, stopping when she noticed the puddle of his clothes on the floor. Her eyes moved upward to his face, and she gave a visible start when she saw that he was awake.

Colter propped himself up on one arm and extended his hand to her.

“Come here,” he said huskily.

Chapter 6

Karen stared at him. The firelight was turning his hair to molten gold and dancing along the planes of his face, making his cheekbones more prominent. The pale hairs on his tanned arm glinted in the darkened room, and the hand he held out to her was curved upward in supplication.

It was an invitation she couldn’t resist.

She hardly felt the rug beneath her feet as she crossed the floor. She bent toward him, and before she was able to sit he had pulled her into his arms.

Karen knew as soon as she felt his body next to hers that he was naked beneath the sheet. She drew back slightly but he held her fast, nuzzling her neck.

“Don’t go,” he whispered.

“Steven, I...” Karen began, but he silenced her with a kiss.

His mouth was hot, urgent, and she remembered the way he always kissed her: as if he would consume her, as if she were the most desirable woman he had ever touched. She felt the stubble of his beard graze her cheek as he turned his head, and his lips left hers to travel a path along the line of her neck to the collar of her gown. He paused there, fumbling with the buttons at the yoke.

Karen stayed his hand. “Steven, you’re sick,” she murmured.

He looked up and met her eyes. “If you say that to me once more, I am going to have it tattooed on your forehead,” he answered grimly.

“But you weren’t feeling well earlier,” she persisted.

He sat back and took her hand, moving it to his chest where she could feel the runaway beating of his heart. “Do I seem sick?” he muttered. “Incapacitated?” He guided her hand down his body to his thigh. She could feel him, stallion ready, through the thin barrier of the sheet.

“Incapable?” he said huskily.

Karen’s fingers closed around him, her head falling forward to his shoulder. “You said you just wanted to be friends,” she whispered desperately.

“I know what I said,” he replied impatiently, pulling away. “Forget what I said. I didn’t know what I was talking about.”