Lost in His Arms (2 page)

He turned to eye her, his taut features visible in the orange glow of the flames. “An explosion might be the only thing that gets somebody's attention and brings help faster. Otherwise, who knows how long it'll take for somebody to find us.”

They sat watching the flames flickering here and there without actually bursting into a full inferno. With each minute that passed, the adrenaline and the shock that had momentarily gripped Elizabeth began to ebb.

Andrew. Her son's name was her first rational thought. She shivered as she realized just how close he'd come to being motherless.

She was aware of body pain where she hadn't known she had body, and her head ached with a nauseating intensity.

The night was silent, other than the crackle of the dwindling flames. And as the flames grew dimmer, the blackness of the night grew more profound. The sky wasn't visible through the tops of the trees, so no moonlight broke the descending darkness.

For the first time since the crash, she felt a flutter of fear in her stomach. “Where are we?” she asked.

“My best guess is somewhere between Kansas City and Branson.”

“Well, that certainly narrows it down,” she said. With the fear came a healthy dose of anger. “I thought you said you were an excellent pilot.”

“I am. You aren't dead, are you?” He didn't look at her, but instead, kept his gaze focused on the last of the fire. “I'm sorry I can't be more specific about where we are.”

“I guess we aren't going to make it to Twin Oaks.” She desperately attempted to embrace her anger, finding it more palatable than the fear she was desperately fighting. “I can't believe this. I can't believe you crashed the plane.”

“I didn't do it on purpose,” he said dryly.

Her cheeks flushed and she drew a deep breath. “Of course you didn't. I'm sorry,” she said grudgingly. “I'm upset.”

“It must be contagious, because I'm a little upset myself.” He drew a deep breath and plucked at the torn sleeve of his suit jacket. “This was my favorite suit, and now it's ruined.”

She stared at him in disbelief, then saw a small curve at the corner of his mouth. “Talbot McCarthy made a joke?”

“Don't sound so surprised. I do have a sense of humor.”

“You could have fooled me,” she replied. “In all the years I was married to Richard, I don't think I saw you smile once.” In fact, she'd always found him rigid, cold and slightly disapproving—and exceptionally attractive. That dichotomy had made her extremely uncomfortable. “So what do we do now?”

“If I had my cell phone, I'd call for help. Unfortunately it must have slipped from my pocket during the crash or when I scrambled out of the plane. So now the smartest thing to do is stay here close to the plane and hope help is on the way.”

But what if help wasn't on the way, she wanted to ask. But she was afraid of what the answer might be. She scooted back so she could lean against a tree trunk, unsurprised when he followed her example and joined her.

She cast him a surreptitious glance as he leaned back and closed his eyes. Under different circumstances, she would have taken pleasure in his disheveled state.

In all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen him in such a state of disarray. His rich dark hair was tousled beyond style, and a smudge of smoke or oil decorated a cheekbone. His suit jacket was ripped and dirty, and the shirt that had been so pristine when they'd taken off was now wrinkled and blackened.

She frowned, remembering how he'd looked
when he'd first appeared on her doorstep earlier that evening. He hadn't just stood in her doorway, he'd filled it with his presence. At six foot two, Talbot had the body of a natural athlete. Broad-shouldered, slender-hipped, he carried himself with a masculine grace that drew women's attention.

However, he wasn't handsome in the traditional sense. He had bold features, dark eyes that revealed nothing of the inner man, a thin mouth that rarely smiled and a hawklike nose that gave his face a cool arrogance.

She gasped as her gaze now drifted over his legs. His slacks were torn, exposing his knee. The skin had been slashed open and the deep wound still oozed blood.

“Talbot, your knee is really hurt,” she said. “It's bleeding.”

He opened his eyes and looked down at his knee. “It'll be all right. It's not bleeding that badly.” One eyebrow lifted as he turned his gaze to her. “Of course, if you feel the need to rip off your T-shirt and wrap my wounds, go for it.”

“As if I'd sacrifice a perfectly good T-shirt for you,” she scoffed. “I'll make you a deal,” she continued. “If you can tear off a bunch of tree limbs and construct us a nice little lean-to to sit in while we wait for help, then I'll rip up my shirt for your leg.”

He laughed, and the unfamiliar sound of his
laughter sent a familiar heat spiraling through her—a heat that was distinctly uncomfortable.

From the moment she'd met Talbot, she'd felt a crazy pull toward him that had been frightening. And for the nine years of her marriage to his brother, she had fought it. She had consciously never spent any time at all alone with Talbot. And now they were stuck alone together in the middle of nowhere. She tried to ignore her disquiet.

“I think we've both seen too many movies,” he said. “Besides, I wouldn't waste a good lean-to on you.”

Although he was merely returning Elizabeth's comment in kind, she was grateful for the slight coolness in his voice, a coolness that reminded her she had never been sure she even liked Talbot McCarthy.

A light flashed someplace in the distance. Elizabeth shot to her feet. “Did you see that?” she asked. Excitement and relief ripped through her. “Maybe it was the light from a search helicopter.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, a loud rumble resounded overhead. Not the rumble of a search plane, but rather the result of cold air meeting warm.

“I don't think it's a search helicopter,” he said. “I believe we're in for a storm.”

As the first fat raindrops fell from the sky and splattered on her upturned face, Elizabeth glared at
her companion. “I think I hate you, Talbot McCarthy,” she stated emphatically.

“Trust me, Elizabeth, before this is all over with, I believe the feeling just might become mutual.”

T
albot had never felt so out of his element. The rain fell steadily for about an hour, effectively dousing any lingering embers that might have still been burning on the plane and getting them wet enough to be miserable.

Fortunately the storm moved on, leaving behind a profound darkness and a silence broken only by the sounds of their breathing.

“No search party will be coming tonight, will they.” Elizabeth's soft voice broke the silence.

He considered lying to her to ease her mind, but realized honesty was smarter. “I doubt if anyone will begin a search tonight.” What he didn't tell her was that he doubted anyone would begin a search tomorrow, either. No, he'd save all the gruesome details for later.

“So we're stuck out here for the night.” Her voice held a strange tension. It didn't seem to be anger, but rather something deeper, something darker.

“If a search party doesn't show up first thing in the morning, we can probably walk someplace for help.” Talbot also didn't mention the fact that he had no idea if he'd be able to walk by morning. His knee throbbed clear down to the bone, and he knew he'd aggravated the old football injury that had, at one time, given him major problems.

“So, all we can do now is sit here in the dark.” Again that same tone colored her voice.

Talbot wished for just a spark of light, a tiny illumination that would make her features visible. “I know it isn't going to be the most comfortable night you've ever spent, but there don't seem to be any alternatives.”

She didn't speak for a long moment, but he felt the pressure of her shoulder against his. “I don't like the dark,” she murmured.

Fear. That was what he heard in her voice, and it astonished him. The cool, always together, always competent Elizabeth McCarthy was scared of the dark. “There's nothing to be afraid of,” he said.

He felt her stiffen in protest. “I am not afraid. I just don't like the dark.” Still, she didn't inch away from him, but remained with her shoulder firmly touching his.

He didn't believe her protest. She was afraid of the dark. Amazing. One of the things he'd told himself he disliked about her was that she was always in control, always seemed so incredibly strong and efficient.

Someplace deep inside, Talbot had always believed that maybe if she had been a little less strong, a little more needy, then perhaps Richard would have had to mature and accept more responsibility in their marriage.

He found himself wondering what other weaknesses she might possess, and that he entertained any kind of interest in her at all irritated him.

As far as he was concerned, she was the devil in lipstick, a forbidden temptation sent to test his will-power. And yet he couldn't help but be a bit curious. “So how long have you had a phobia about the dark?” he asked.

“It isn't a phobia,” she said, then sighed and raked a hand through her hair, causing it to tumble against his shoulder.

He stiffened, fighting the urge to reach up and touch a strand, to see if it was as soft, as silky as it looked. “I think the best thing we can do is get some sleep. I'm sure things will look brighter in the morning.”

“Somehow I'm not counting on it,” she said softly.

They were the last words they spoke to each other that night.

Talbot tried to make himself comfortable, but the adrenaline that had filled him from the moment he'd realized the plane was going down refused to dissipate enough to allow sleep to overtake him.

He could tell Elizabeth was also having trouble winding down. She squirmed and wriggled next to him, but never allowed her shoulder to stop touching his. As time passed, her wriggling slowed, and he knew she had fallen asleep when her head lolled to his shoulder and she slumped fully against him.

His first instinct was to shove her off him. He didn't want to feel her provocative body warmth against him, didn't want to smell the faint scent of sweet ripened strawberries that wafted from her hair. But he had to admit her body warmth felt good as the night grew chillier.

He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, knowing it was possible he would need all his wits, all his energy to face the morning.

If they were lucky, they would either be found by somebody who'd seen the plane go down or discover some small town nearby.

If they were incredibly unlucky, they would find themselves in the middle of a forest with nobody around for miles. And the way their luck seemed to be running, that was what worried him.

What if he couldn't walk well enough to find help?

He smiled wryly. Of course, as competent as Elizabeth had always been, she could probably construct a litter from tree branches and pull him out of the forest. This was the last conscious thought he had before sleep finally claimed him.

He awoke with the dawn, for a moment completely disoriented. Before he even opened his eyes, his mind worked to orient him. A warm female form was curled up in his arms, and his nose was filled with the scent of strawberries.

As he drew a deep breath, he remembered. The crash…Elizabeth…the forest. His eyes snapped open and he saw that at some point during the night, their bodies had not only sought the soft, leaf-covered ground, but also each other's.

Her face was turned toward his, and he took the opportunity to study her with the glow of dawn seeping through the trees.

He easily understood why Richard had been so enthralled with her. She was lovely, with sinfully thick lashes and a full, inviting mouth that urged a man to plunder its depths.

Her skin was the color of a barely browned biscuit, with natural peach in either cheek. As he stared at her, his finger itched to caress the skin on her cheek, lightly touch her slightly plump bottom lip.
He wanted her. He'd wanted her for years, and in that desire had been his shame.

Richard's wife. Richard's woman.

With these disturbing thoughts in mind, he disentangled himself from her and sat up. In doing so, he woke her. She stirred and groaned, then sat up and shoved her lioness-colored hair away from her face.

“Ohmigosh. I feel like somebody beat me up all night,” she said as she stood and stretched, arms overhead.

Talbot frowned, his gaze drawn to her T-shirt, which had crept up to expose a flat, tanned abdomen. Relief flooded him as she put her hands down and the shirt fell back to where it belonged.

He followed her gaze as she looked around their surroundings and felt her horror as she saw the wreckage that now marred the serene forest floor. She crossed her arms and hugged her shoulders, and he guessed it wasn't the coolness of the morning, but rather the evidence of their close call that caused her to visibly shiver.

“Hard to believe we both walked away, isn't it?” he said.

She nodded, then turned back to look at him. “How's your knee?”

“It'll be all right,” he replied, oddly touched that she'd asked.

“Good, because if a search party doesn't show up soon, we may have to hike out of here.”

He frowned irritably. He should have known she'd only asked about his knee because she wanted to make sure he didn't hold her back. “We shouldn't do anything too soon. It's just a few minutes after dawn. We'll stay here with the plane for a couple of hours at least.”

He could tell she didn't like that idea, that she was ready for action now. And he could guess by the worried frown that marred the smooth skin of her forehead that she was probably thinking of Richard and Andrew.

“They're probably back at your apartment by now,” he said as he struggled to his feet. “I'm sure Richard returned to Kansas City when you didn't show up in Twin Oaks last night.” His knee screamed in protest as he attempted to put weight on it. He braced himself against a tree.

“You really think so?” The frown that had wrinkled her brow disappeared, and earnest hope shone from those big blue eyes.

Despite her face and clothes being dirty, her hair tangled and decorated with bits of leaves, she looked beautiful. For a brief moment Talbot wanted to take her in his arms, smell that sweet scent that emanated from her and ease away any of her worries by kissing those luscious lips.

The inexplicable tension in Talbot rose to a new
level. “Richard might be a lot of things, but he's always been a good father,” he said, his voice sounding harsh even to his own ears.

She stared at him, obviously surprised by his outburst. “You must be hungry,” she said. “Richard used to get surly when he was hungry.”

He'd expected her to answer his anger with some of her own. Her response momentarily left his speechless. When the ability to speak returned, he eyed her wryly. “I am hungry,” he agreed. “Maybe you could forage around in the forest and serve us up a nice breakfast of berries and roots.”

She ignored his sarcasm and, instead, eyed what was left of the plane. “If I could find my overnight case—and it survived the fire—I have a bag of corn chips and an apple in it. Surely that would hold us until the search party finds us.”

The anger he'd tried so hard to feel, the anger he needed to feel toward her abandoned him. Her gaze once again went to the wreckage wedged between the two trees. “Do you think my suitcase is still there somewhere?”

“I doubt it. If I was to guess, your case is someplace between here and the first place we hit the trees.” He shoved himself away from the tree. “We can take a look and see what we find.”

She nodded and set off walking at a brisk pace. He stumbled after her, trying to suck up the pain
that ripped through his knee with each step. He'd rather suffer than allow her to see any weakness.

They hadn't gone very far when she turned back to him. She stopped walking and placed her hands on her hips. “Sit down,” she commanded.

“I'm all right,” he protested.

“Yeah, sure. Walking always makes you break out in a sweat.” She strode purposefully to where he stood and placed herself under his arm. “I don't want you to blame me when you're permanently crippled because you went chasing after my suitcase,” she said as she led him to a tree.

Reluctantly he sat, knowing it was useless to pretend he wasn't in pain. “Maybe if I stay off it a bit longer…” His voice trailed off in frustration.

“I'm perfectly capable of foraging on my own.” Once again she set off walking away from him.

Talbot watched her, reluctantly admiring the length of her shapely legs, the slight wiggle of her slender hips. He wasn't surprised that she was handling the situation rather well.

She'd always had the kind of self-confidence that intimidated men. At least, most men. She certainly didn't intimidate him.

He rubbed his knee, realizing that as long as he stayed off it, pain wasn't an issue. Unfortunately there was no doubt in his mind that eventually he was going to have to get up and walk out of here.

As he continued to massage the sides of his knee
cap, he frowned, listening to the silence that surrounded him. There was noise—birds called from the tops of trees, and here and there the leaves rustled as squirrels jumped from limb to limb. But these weren't the sounds Talbot most wanted to hear.

What was conspicuously absent was the dull roar of highway traffic, the laughter of a family setting up a campsite. No sounds of human presence at all.

He looked up as Elizabeth came back into view, a triumphant grin on her face and a small battered suitcase in her hand. “I found it!” she announced as she sat down next to him. The case was battered and dented, but appeared to be in one piece. “I looked for your cell phone, but I couldn't find it.”

She placed the case on her lap and opened it. Talbot instantly smelled the sweet berry scent emanating from the interior.

The first thing he saw in the opened suitcase was a pair of red lace panties, and his mind instantly produced a vision of her wearing them and nothing else. Heat filled him, and he attempted to shove the vision away.

She quickly buried the panties beneath a mound of innocuous clothing, then grabbed a plastic zippered bag and slammed the case shut.

“I don't know about you, but at the moment a breakfast of corn chips and apple sounds wonderful,” she said, her cheeks stained a light pink. “I'm starving.”

Talbot was starving, also, but his hunger had nothing to do with a desire for food. It was a hunger he'd suffered for a long time, one that filled him with anger and shame.

He watched as she tore open the bag of chips, then carefully separated them into two piles. “I hope the search party brings water. I have a feeling after eating these chips, we'll both be thirsty,” she said.

Talbot knew it was time to tell her the truth, and he dreaded it. So far, she had shown her usual aplomb in the unusual situation. But he wasn't sure how she would react to his little confession. “Uh, about that search party…”

She looked up at him, a chip midway to her mouth. “Yes?” Her eyes narrowed.

“I'm guessing there isn't one.”

“What do you mean? Of course there'll be a search party. Doesn't the FAA send people out when a plane disappears? Wouldn't the airport where we were going to land send word that we didn't get there?”

“I wasn't flying into an airport. I was using a friend's airstrip, and I was flying VFR.”

“What does that mean?” Her eyes narrowed even more.

“It means ‘visual flight rules.' I was not under FAA control or supervision, but rather, my own.”

“Gee, why doesn't that surprise me?” she said dryly.

She nudged his share of the corn chips toward him. “You'd better eat up. You're going to need all your strength to help me drag your butt out of these woods.”

 

As she and Talbot finished the last of the apple and chips, Elizabeth fought myriad emotions. She was angry with him for not filing a flight plan, for not taking precautions. How utterly like him to assume he could control, could handle the entire world all on his own.