Hot Zone (15 page)

Hugh glanced up from his meal. “Or I can put Amelia right on a plane to the States.”

“Ah, you’re the protective kind. One of those men who takes
alpha
to a whole new level.” She twirled her fork in the spaghetti. “But you haven’t figured out how tough Amelia is yet, have you?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, but stayed diplomatically quiet.

“Forgive me for being presumptuous. Let’s eat and get some sleep. There’s nothing more we can do until the truck returns in the morning.” She lifted her water bottle. “Another toast, to having life restored to normal. Now let’s clean up before it gets dark.”

Once she got her guests settled for the night, she could slip out to check on her charges. The first three would be smuggled out of the country on a departing C-17 tonight as the children of three of her staff. That still left the eleven orphans in the guest house. At least a dozen more would be coming in later tonight in the trucks delivering “supplies,” children ranging from newborn to eight years old. Their well-being rested on her getting them out of the country as quickly as possible so she could accommodate the others that would need her. She’d never dealt with placing such large numbers at once.

She’d never been needed more than now.

If these two surprise guests presented a risk to her operation, then she would be forced to deal with them, just as she’d been forced to deal with Oliver. Joshua would be safe either way.

But she could not allow
anyone
to stand in the way of getting these children to safety.

***

“Do you get the feeling we’re staying at the Hotel California?”

Amelia’s softly spoken question smoked through Hugh’s focus as he checked out their quarters. He turned on his heel toward her. She sat on the bed with Joshua, mosquito netting draped on the thick four-poster.

She leaned forward, snapping her fingers. “Hugh? Don’t you agree? Hotel California?”

The Eagles classic echoed around in his brain until his fingers tapped along the top of the rocking chair.

“Uh-huh,” he said as he stared outside at the pitch-black nothingness.

No lights, which didn’t mean no people, just no power, or others conserving their generators. Even if Amelia and Joshua weren’t depleted, trekking back with them in pitch-black wasn’t safe. Alone, he could find his way, but alone wasn’t an option. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—leave them behind here. So they would stay until the morning, resting and recouping, and then head out in the morning.

Could they trust Jocelyn Pearson-Stewart? Hell if he knew.

At least the woman hadn’t questioned their request to share a room so he could stay near Amelia and Joshua. The room wasn’t large, but it had a private bath and a nook with a crib. Jocelyn had given them everything they could need, including clothes and toiletries, all with perfect explanations for why she had extra on hand, nieces and nephews who wore the same size as him—and Amelia and Joshua.

His fingers strummed along a small chest of drawers with their clothes and a guitar resting on top. Interesting that Jocelyn had picked up on a single moment when he’d admired the guitar on the living-room wall.

She was watching them every bit as closely as he was assessing her and the house. That could be natural behavior for a woman who’d been on her own so long in a remote corner of this island. But what if she had a more ominous reason to be that vigilant?

The bedroom wasn’t packed with other furniture, just the rocker and sofa. And of course, that big bed draped with thin mosquito netting.

Amelia cradled the drowsy kid in her arms. “Come on, kiddo, go to sleep, go to sleep so I can wash my hair three times.” She cooed softly to the little guy. “And if you don’t go to sleep I’m going to start singing, and you do
not
want to hear my voice.”

She swung her feet off the mattress and started walking the floor, patting the baby’s back until his head settled on her shoulder. “Looking for anything in particular?”

“Just checking the lay of the land,” he said.

He wasn’t ready to talk, and right now, finally, there wasn’t a rush. They had time. They had tonight, here, together, while she and the boy rested. And while he pulled together a plan for what to do next.

While he hated to lose the breeze, keeping the doors closed and locked was wisest. With her bandaged hand, Amelia cradled the back of Joshua’s head as she carried him to the nursery nook Jocelyn had set up. She’d said she had a nephew who came over from Miami with his family to visit sometimes.

A plausible explanation.

And yet “Hotel California” kept playing through his brain.

Shit.

He slumped back against a bedpost, watching Amelia with the baby. She was good with the kid, a natural. Careful not to wake the sleeping little one, she lowered him onto the duck-patterned sheets.

Scratching over the tightness gathering in his chest, he watched the too-sweet mother and child image play out. Joshua squirmed for a couple of seconds before settling on his belly, his sleep deep and exhausted. Amelia rubbed soothing circles along his back even though he’d long ago given up fighting bedtime.

She traced a finger down his nose, then over his perfect shell ear. “On the plane trip here to the Bahamas,” she said softly, “I was so envious of my brother and Lisabeth, and now I feel as if I’ve stolen their future somehow.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, yanking him out of his own thoughts. He charged across the floor and pulled her back against his chest. She sniffled and he turned her toward him, gathering her in. Her shoulders shook as she buried her face in his neck. He backed out of the nursery nook, still holding her close. Keeping one arm locked around her, he reached to unhook the ropes holding the curtains back and let them slide together, sealing off Joshua’s room for the night.

Looking up, she blinked fast, a tear sliding free. “Aren’t you going to offer me platitudes about how my brother and his wife are still alive?”

“You wouldn’t believe me and it wouldn’t help.” He squeezed her shoulders.

“That flight seems forever ago, a world away, like it happened to a whole different person. We’ve gone through so much together in such a short time.” Her fingers moved restlessly over the nape of his neck. “This is all crazy. Sometimes I wonder if all this is even real.”

He looked into her eyes and medic training kicked in, telling him Amelia was about to have a meltdown. He skimmed his hands up and down her back, searching for ways to soothe her, calm her, do anything he could to take the tears from her eyes. “It’s all real and way too much for one person to deal with.”

“No kidding.”

“You need to decompress, unwind.”

She choked on a laugh. “Are you propositioning me?”

“No… God, no.” He stroked back her tangled hair, his mind finally settling on a way he could help her, something productive he could do during this downtime until morning. “Not that I wouldn’t welcome the chance to be with you again, but it’s clear you need something else from me right now.”

“What would that be?”

His fingers forked through her silken blonde—dirty—locks. “I’m going to wash your hair.”

Anticipation curling through her, Amelia looked from Hugh to the opaque curtain over the nursery nook, then back again. As he stood by the open bathroom door, his steady gaze met hers and she couldn’t miss his intent. She also couldn’t ignore the need inside her, the desire to be with him again.

Hugh raised an eyebrow along with a bottle of shampoo. “There’s homemade shampoo, and soap with bay geranium and another with orange sage, all locally grown, I’m guessing. Your choice. What do you say?”

“You’re offering to wash my hair?” She closed the last few steps between them and flattened her palms to his chest. Her fingers played along the soft cotton of his shirt.

“I live to serve.”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Perhaps I can take care of that myself.”

“The nozzle on the shower is insanely low and I wouldn’t want you to get a backache.” He stroked along her scalp in a tempting, teasing preshow. “Thought I would do you a favor, since your hand is bandaged.”

“Hmmm… I had such good medical treatment, my hand hardly hurts at all.” She trailed her palms down his chest, over his abs, which were so ripped she could count through the six pack. “I could just sit in the tub and let all that amazing well water wash over me until I’m finally, finally clean.”

“Yes, you could.” He linked his fingers with hers and tugged. “Or you could sit in the tub while I clean every inch of you.”

A shiver of possibility tingled through her. “What about Joshua?”

“The kid’s asleep behind that curtain. Exhausted. Out for the count.” He grazed his mouth over her ear, hot breath and even hotter proposition flowing. “We can leave the bathroom door open to listen for him.”

He dispelled concerns with a few sensible words. Sounded perfect. His hands along the back of her neck felt even better than perfect, and exactly what she needed after the hell they’d endured together. Why wasn’t she pitching off her clothes and racing for the tub?

Because she was finally feeling safe enough to think about the future. “Are you suggesting we pick up where we left off in the supply closet?”

“Whatever does or doesn’t happen in there will be different than the first time. Right now is about us making decisions rather than just reacting.” His forehead fell to rest on hers for two deep exhales before he continued, “I’m suggesting that I wash your hair, since you mentioned wanting it cleaned three times over.”

Her eyes drifted closed as she savored the gentle pressure soothing away a headache she hadn’t even realized was there. “You sure do know how to make a pitch.”

“So what’ll it be?”

She snuggled closer, hugging him low around his waist. “Orange sage and your magic fingers.”

“And just so you know, this
will
be different than that time in the storage closet.” He backed her into the retro pink washroom.

“How so?” She chewed her bottom lip as his next step danced her farther, the heat of his hard thigh pressing between her legs.

“This time will be slower.”

Goose bumps prickled along her skin. “And?”

“It’s not going to be as easy for you to make a speedy exit afterward.”

His hands on her hips, he backed her the rest of the way. Her bare feet padded along the raspberry tile until her calves bumped against the old-fashioned claw tub. Moonlight streamed through the skylight in a romantic rosy glow.

Her chin tipped. “I hear you, and I don’t have plans to go anywhere. Rather, I wouldn’t go anywhere even if I wasn’t completely dependent on Jocelyn’s hospitality right now.”

He dipped his head and she waited, anticipated his kiss, only to have his words caress her ear again. “Do you want me to help you undress?”

“I think I’ll take care of my clothes.”

“By all means, take your time. I’m not in any hurry.” He leaned against the sink, crossing his feet at the ankles.

Grabbing the edge of her shirt, she tugged up, inch by inch. His heated gaze warmed her bared flesh.

Grinning, she toed off her shoes one at a time. He folded his arms over his chest, seemingly a disinterested observer. Except she could see how thickly, how
obviously
aroused he was. So much so, he would have to ditch his own clothes soon.

She shimmied off the pants and stood in just the white cotton underwear and bra. And how ironic that the passion she saw in his eyes far surpassed anything she’d seen with her husband, even when she’d spent a fortune at the lingerie store.

Argh!
She cut that train of thought off short. Right now she didn’t want to think about her ex-husband. The past needed to stay there for the moment.

She yanked off the bra and scraped down the panties, kicking them all into a heap. Hugh raised an eyebrow at her abruptness. She stepped into the old-fashioned tub, the spray from the low-set shower hitting her. Her stomach muscles contracted at the luxurious spray of water.

“It’s warmer than I expected,” she said, her nipples beading from the bliss. “Lukewarm, sure, but it’s water, water, water, and more water…” She tipped her head back and let the stream hit her on the face.

“Your bandage is getting wet,” he cautioned.

“Then you’ll just have change it for me afterward.” She glanced sideways at him, rivulets trickling down her neck. “Now hurry up and undress so you can warm me.”

“Ooh-rah.”

“Ooh-rah?”

“Military talk for
oh
yeah
.”

Muscles rippling, he tugged his borrowed T-shirt over his head. It was such an everyday thing, taking off a shirt, but this was Hugh, bronzed and defined, with a tattoo across his left pec, some kind of musical scroll that made her curious.

Hugh stood in just khaki pants, low-slung on his hips. Only his pants. And that skylight let in just enough moonlight for her to see him.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled with awareness. His chest and feet were bare and damp from water misting out of the shower. Somehow it was the naked feet that made things feel more intimate. He wasn’t just some ripped man of the month, eye candy with his shirt off. He was a man alone with her—a man she happened to have had sex with not too long ago. Back before they’d actually known anything about each other.

She extended her hand for him to join her, waggling her fingers. “Join me.”

“Not yet.” He shook his head. “I told you. I’m going to wash your hair.”

His hands landed on her shoulders, gently easing her down to sit again. Moaning, she sank into the tub and clutched her legs, her forehead resting on her bent knees. Porcelain was cool against her bottom, then warm and warmer as the water gathered… Yeah. This was good.

He grabbed a plastic bottle with a homemade label—“Orange sage” written in calligraphy with a piece of fruit drawn in the corner, signed JPS, Jocelyn Pearson-Stewart. Would a wheeling-dealing criminal make her own soaps and shampoos? She relaxed a little deeper in the tub. The lukewarm beads caressed her like a liquid orgasm tingling over her dry, scraped skin.

Hugh sat on the edge and rubbed the shampoo over her hair, gathering up the ends to work it all into a lather. His fingertips pressed along her temples. He thrust his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp.

He was thorough, God, he was thorough, with all three shampoos and rinses that tingled from the roots all the way to her toes. The scented suds cascaded down her body, washing away grime, exhaustion, and something else indefinable. Barriers, maybe? Or the will to hold herself together. And in this vulnerable turned-on moment, emotions slammed over her faster than a tidal wave.

A shaking started deep inside her. Was she losing it? After all they’d been through, now she had to unravel? She hadn’t even realized her heel was stuck in the drain and the tub had started filling up. Her jaw trembled and she was pretty sure her legs wouldn’t hold her. Much longer and she would start crying over, hell, everything.

She turned her head on her knees, letting the spray caress her face. “Really, you should join me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Somberly, he shucked his pants and underwear at the same time.

What a time to realize she hadn’t seen him completely naked before. The supply closet had been too dim, their encounter too hurried. But she looked him fully over now, taking in the raw strength of him. Not just bulging arms and muscular roped legs, but his ridged stomach, the breadth of his back declared his strength beyond anything she’d ever witnessed. She’d certainly seen all that strength in action, the power that couldn’t be gained from just pumping iron in a weight room.

And the tattoos. Plural. While she’d noticed the music scrolled across his chest, she definitely hadn’t noticed the green footprints inked on his calf. There was a story there, no doubt.

Except then he stepped into the water and her thoughts scattered. He sat behind her, bringing the water higher around them as his legs stretched out the length of the tub. His thick erection pressed against her back with a promise as large as everything else about the man.

He cupped her shoulders, guiding her to rest against his chest. “Relax…”

Really?
Really?
She was far from relaxed, with tension of another delicious kind seeping through her.

Then his hands slid forward to cup her breasts and she eased down into the water, giving him fuller access to keep caressing, soothing. The lingering soap on his hands made his touch slick against her nipples. The calluses along the pads of his finger rasped an added pleasure with each stroke, touch, plucking. His hands splayed wide, palming her in his broad, possessive hold.

Heat pooled between her legs, a sensation that had more to do with Hugh than the shower. And from the way he throbbed against her spine as she moved, he was enjoying this every bit as much as she was. Although, she could take things even higher by being a more active participant.

Swiping the washrag from the hook and the bottle of homemade liquid soap, she lathered a cloth, eyeing his muscled hairy legs on either side of her. She skimmed her fingers carefully around the angry red scratch on his calf where Oliver had cut him during their struggle in the van.

She dabbed along the angry red line. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m a medic, remember?” He kissed and nipped down her neck and along her shoulder. “I can take care of myself. I’m also military, which means I get a crap ton of immunizations. Think tetanus times twenty.”

Her hand slowed along his leg, the water chilling around her. “In case you’re injured in the line of duty.”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled against her neck.

“And have you been?”

He stroked down from her breasts to her stomach, inching lower still until his fingertips were under the soapy water. And then he reached lower still, dipping one hand between her legs. “Do you really want to talk about that right now?”

Her knees parted and it was her own slickness, her arousal, that smoothed his touch back and forth along her plumped, oversensitive flesh.

“Guess not.” She shook her head against his chest, her breath hitching as his fingers dipped lower, lower… just low enough. “Oh… Definitely not.”

“Good.” His laugh vibrated against her,
through
her. “Me neither.”

She tipped her face up toward him just in time to meet his kiss, opening, and what a time to realize there hadn’t been the luxury of time for making out. They’d shared life-and-death moments, deep personal secrets, and even mind-blowing sex. But somewhere along the line they’d missed out on this…

Careful not to break the passionate connection, she angled around and onto her knees until she straddled his lap. Water sluiced over the sides again as she settled on top of him. Facing him, she explored him with her hands and the soap. The shower sprayed on her back, sprinkling around onto him and swishing away the suds. She kissed her way over clean manly flesh. And God, she loved the way his pecs twitched under her lips. So she flicked her tongue, tasting, savoring as she worked her way across until the texture changed with his musical tattoo.

Abruptly, he stood, turned the shower off, and scooped her up into his arms in a move so smooth she barely had time to loop her arms around his neck before they reached the bed. His arms bulged with unmistakable strength under her legs and along her back.

He lowered her on the wide mattress, the crocheted spread enticingly abrasive against her bare skin. The moonlight streamed in through the windows, pouring down his naked body. Hugh stretched out over her, settling on top of her as he captured her mouth. And as much as she was enjoying the make-out session, she was ready for this to move forward.

Her fingernails dug into his flanks and she ached to have him inside her.

“Hurry…” She arched against him, wriggling her hips.

“We’re not rushing it this time.”

“Can we have fast”—she nipped his chin—“then slow?” She flicked her tongue over the same spot.

“Or slow… and even slower still.” He shifted positions with athletic fluidity, lifting her as he slid underneath her.

His erection pressed against her, nudging the tight bundle of nerves that screamed for attention and relief. He rocked his hips, sliding along her but not in her, a sweet torment, so much so, she grabbed his shoulders in a white-knuckled grip to keep from melting over him, off him.

His hands spanned her waist, steadying. “I’ve got you. Just relax and go with it. Let everything fly loose from the past few days.”

He sounded so in control, a part of her wanted to take the control away from him, make him as insanely on fire as he made her.

Faster and faster he guided her until a flush of anticipation prickled over her skin. Her breasts went tighter, her whole body gathering into a knot of need. She rocked more fully against him and reveled in the groan that slipped from between his gritted teeth.

That deeply growled sound of appreciation snapped the tension inside her. Her head flung back, her damp hair grazing her spine. Each brush stimulated and electrified her every heightened nerve, sending her closer and closer to completion. And he watched her as if reading her face, her body, as he stroked her while laving her breast with his tongue, tugging lightly with his teeth.