Match Play (9 page)

Rather than eat at the rickety wooden table, they took their bowls and mugs outside. The late-afternoon sun had warmed the air, although the shadows creeping across the loch presaged an imminent drop in temperature.

Dayna downed her stew with a disconcerting sense of unreality. This morning she'd completed one of the best rounds of golf in her life. Before, during and after the game, she'd been forced to alternate her concentration between her target and her fabricated reunion with Luke. The scary episode at the hotel had upped the pucker factor considerably.

Now, a scant hour and forty-five kilometers later, there wasn't a fairway or green in sight. Just bracken-covered moors, stony crags and a scarlet-breasted kingfisher skimming a few inches above the deep, dark waters of the loch.

And Luke. He was a solid presence beside her, dominating even the spectacular scenery, disconcerting Dayna with his nearness even as she drew a sneaky comfort from it…as she had during those terrifying moments at the hotel.

Gulping, she swallowed her pride with a lump of mushy dumpling. “I didn't thank you.”

He slanted her a quizzical glance. “For?”

“For calling the EMTs. For elevating my feet. For, uh, holding me when I couldn't breathe.”

Why was that so blasted hard to say? Why did she feel as though she'd just surrendered a part of herself?

Because she
had,
Dayna realized with another gulp. By uttering those simple words, she'd let go of the anger and hurt she'd hauled around for so long.

“It was my pleasure,” Luke returned with a smile.

He must have sensed how much the grudging admission that she'd needed him had cost her. His smile tipped into a grin.

“It always was.”

She dug her spoon into her stew. “Don't complicate a simple expression of gratitude, Harper.”

“You're right. Sorry. Although I have to say
simple
isn't the adjective that comes to mind when discussing your episode this afternoon.”

Gut-wrenching
didn't come close, Luke thought.
Terrifying
was too tame. He'd let Dayna walk away from him once. The very real possibility she might slip away again, right there in his arms, had shaken him to his core.

Luke would need a thesaurus to find the right words to describe his raw emotions while she struggled for every breath. For now, all he could do was fight to keep his voice light and the memory of her agonized rasping at bay.

He was determined to help Dayna kept it at bay, as well. He could think of a number of ways to accomplish that objective, but only one that didn't involve touching her.

“As I recall, the colonel keeps a deck of cards somewhere in the lodge.”

She cocked her head, her competitive spirit stirred. “Cards, huh?”

“Want to play a few hands?”

“Depends on the game.”

“How are you at gin rummy?”

“Not as good as I am at kayaking or golf, but I think I can hold my own.”

“You're on.”

 

Their few hands of rummy stretched to a duel that lasted into the evening. Rather than power up the generator, they scooted the rickety table closer to the fireplace and played by its flickering light.

Luke didn't let her win. She'd chew him up and spit him out in little pieces if she thought he had. But sitting across from her, watching while she debated over a discard, seeing the sly triumph in her eyes when she snagged the deck, shot his concentration all to hell. As a result, he was both relieved and amused when she gave a little hoot of delight.

“Gin!” Smirking, she slapped down a five-card run to empty her hand. “That's game, set and match, Harper.”

Basking in her win, she gathered the cards. Luke hooked an arm over the back of his chair and wondered if she had any idea how beautiful she was. The tough round of golf this morning and the vicious attack this afternoon would have wiped out most ordinary mortals. But Dayna's skin had regained a healthy, natural glow that owed nothing to makeup and her eyes once again sparked with life. She'd released her hair from its ponytail and let it tumble over her shoulders in a tawny fall that made Luke ache to bury his hands in it. Ruthlessly controlling the urge, he exercised his muscle as her self-appointed nursemaid.

“I think we should call it a night.”

She flicked a surprised look at the gizmo strapped to her wrist.

“You're right. I lost track of the time. I'll make a quick trip outside and head up to the loft.”

He stayed by the fire while she went out. The memory of all the times they'd scrubbed down in Rocky Mountain streams before wiggling into a single sleeping bag stayed with him until she returned.

“You want the top bunk or the lower?”

Luke accepted the unsubtle message that they wouldn't be sharing anything, much less a sleeping bag, with a shrug.

“Your choice. I'll bank the fire and be up later.”

Dayna left him in his chair. His long legs were outstretched, his hands threaded loosely over his middle. She would have bet a hefty sum that a prickly awareness of his proximity would keep her awake half the night.

She would have lost the bet. Within the first three minutes of climbing into the lower bunk, she was sawing serious Zs.

D
ayna woke to the trill of a bird perched just outside the only window in the loft. She listened for a moment, smiling at the insistently cheerful song and stretched.

God, she felt great! Rested. Relaxed. Ready to jump back into the game.

Her lazy stretch collapsed. A frown replaced the smile. She couldn't jump back into the game. She'd been sidelined until she completed these damn medical tests.

Crossing her arms over the blanket she'd found in a footlocker, she contemplated the underside of the bunk directly above her. It showed no sagging springs, no half-tucked blanket, no signs whatever of occupancy. Ditto the two bunks on the far side of the room. If Luke had climbed up to the loft last night, he'd slipped in and out with the same stealth as the plane he piloted.

Dayna wasn't quite sure how she felt about the fact they might—or might not—have shared the same sleeping space. Seven or eight hours ago she would have sworn the mere possibility of stretching out in the same room with Luke would keep her wide-awake the entire night. Yet apparently she'd dropped like a stone into the void.

Throwing aside the blanket, she snagged her pants and jacket from the foot of the bed. She'd slept in her briefs, sports bra and stretchy T-shirt. She might just as well have gone commando.

An increasingly urgent need to hit the great outdoors prompted her to strip off the single sheet and army blanket. She left both folded at the foot of the bunk and went downstairs.

Luke was crouched beside the dying fire, coaxing sparks from a peat brick to boil some water. He glanced up at the sound of her descent, and Dayna felt a jolt go through her entire system.

His previously pristine blue oxford shirt was a wrinkled mess. The tails hung out and the sleeves were rolled up over muscular forearms. Stubble shadowed his cheeks and chin. His dark hair stuck up in spikes, as though it had been combed with an impatient hand.

He looked nothing like a spit-and-polish air force officer. Even less like the college senior she'd fallen for years ago. This Luke was a stranger, intent, unsmiling, his face stamped with a hard maturity she hadn't taken time to notice before. Or that he hadn't let her see before.

A sensation that was three parts regret and one part pure sex speared into her belly. If this Luke had climbed the stairs to the loft last night, she might have shed more than her jogging suit.

Both the thought and the sensation brought Dayna up short. It was tough enough cooing and kissing him in public. She'd be crazy to add the complication of sex to the mix.

“I wasn't sure about your friend's laundry arrangements,” she said, descending the last few stairs. “I left the sheet and blanket I used on the bunk.”

“That's good enough.”

Whoa! He sounded as rough around the edges as he looked. That might have something to do with the blanket she spotted lying in a crumpled heap beside his chair.

“Did you spend the whole night in that chair?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Hey, don't jump down my throat. It was your choice.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you wanted me to join you upstairs?”

“No, that is not what I'm saying. But I suggest you try a little attitude adjustment while I go commune with Mother Nature.”

With that tart bit of advice, she exited the front door. Cool air scented with the tang of resin and perfumed wood violets greeted her. The spectacular view of the narrow lake and the castle ruins on the opposite side of the lake soothed the feathers Luke's gruffness had ruffled.

Lord, what a setting! Everything inside her ached to walk down to the rocky shore, launch a boat and cut those deep, still waters with the blade of a paddle. She'd have to come back here some day. Maybe after she had the Wus safely tucked away in a safe haven in the States.

Her prickly mood evaporating, Dayna took care of her most pressing concern. She still had some toilet tissue left in her pocket from last night's commune with nature. She'd used leaves and grass often enough, though, that it wouldn't have mattered to her one way or another.

What did that say about her? Dayna wondered ruefully as she emerged from a screen of trees. Her suite at the hotel offered all the comforts of modern living. Big-screen TV. Jacuzzi tub. Well-stocked minibar. Yet she felt more alive here, more rejuvenated than she would have imagined possible after yesterday's scare.

That was because of Luke, a nasty little voice in her head suggested. She owed him for hustling her away from the reporters. He knew getting back to basics like this would restore her balance. He should. They'd shared so many days and nights in similar outdoor settings.

One more chit to add to her growing debt, Dayna acknowledged. She'd thanked him yesterday for helping her through the attack. She'd have to ignore his foul mood and thank him for this.

Kneeling, she dipped her hands in the stream that whooshed and rippled over rocks on its way down to the lake. Whatever gave Scotland's waters—and subsequently its whiskey—such a sharp, clean flavor was as good as a toothbrush for swishing away all traces of overnight fuzz. She scooped up more water, sloshed it over her face and walked back to the lodge with every pore tight and tingling.

Luke was waiting with a mug in each hand. The strings dangling over the sides of the mugs told Dayna she'd have to substitute tea for her usual morning infusion of black coffee.

“Is one of those for me?” she asked when he made no move to hand over a mug.

Cursing under his breath, Luke passed her the tea. He'd used to her brief absence unravel the twisted strands of desire and protectiveness that had kept him awake for most of the night.

Yet all it took was one glimpse of her wet, spiky lashes and scrubbed face to tie him in knots again. He hated the thought of driving her back to St. Andrews. Hated, too, the prospect of being relegated to a supporting role while she plunged once more into her mission.

Oh, hell. Who was he kidding? What ate at him from the inside out was the fact that Dayna would disappear from his life again once she and Callahan hustled the Wus aboard a plane for the States. So he wasn't particularly gratified when she cupped the mug in both hands and tipped him a friendly smile.

“Much as I hate to admit it, you were right. I wouldn't have gotten any rest at the hotel. I needed this isolation and quiet.”

At least the quiet had worked for one of them. Luke felt like yesterday's garbage.

“Thank you,” she said. “Again.”

“You're welcome. Again.” He didn't know whether it was the kink in his neck or sheer perversity that made him add a terse kicker. “Although I hope you know I don't want gratitude from you.”

“Something tells me I should let that pass. Obviously, you got up on the wrong side of the chair this morning.” Angling her chin, she slanted him an assessing glance. “But maybe we should clear the air. Why don't you tell me what you
do
want from me?”

He opened his mouth, snapped it shut. “Damned if I know.”

“Liar.”

The taunt cut through his layers of frustration and stripped away any attempt at escape or evasion. She'd asked a direct question. He would give her a direct answer.

“All right. I want you.”

Her breath left on a hiss, but he took heart from the fact that she didn't upend her mug and dump hot tea over his head. To be safe, though, Luke removed the mug from her hand and set it aside with his.

“Just when did you reach this epiphany?” she asked with more than a touch of sarcasm.

“Last night.”

Her expression of polite disbelief goaded him into a full confession.

“I spent half the night reliving those god-awful moments when all I could do was hold you while you clutched your chest. I've never felt so friggin' helpless in my life. The other half…”

Luke shoved a hand through his hair. What idiot had said confession was good for the soul?

“The other half,” he continued roughly, “I spent battling the urge to climb those stairs, strip you naked and wipe out any memory but the feel of your mouth and hips locked with mine.”

Her lip curled. “So you wanted sex?”

“I wanted
you.
I wanted to bury my face in your hair. I wanted to roll you over and kiss the birthmark at the small of your back. I wanted to hear those little grunts you make when you're about to climax.”

“I don't grunt.”

“Yeah, you do, Pud. And you send me right over the edge every time.”

Yielding to the need that had clawed at him since she walked through the door a few minutes ago, Luke brushed a knuckle over the smooth curve of her cheek. She flinched, but didn't draw away.

“Whatever else we did wrong,” he said with an edge to his voice, “we did that right.”

Dayna knew she should end this discussion, right here, right now. The problem was, she didn't want to end it. The memories he stirred were too intense and too erotic to shove out of her head. She could almost feel his hands on her naked hips, hear the rustle of the sheets if he rolled her over as he'd just described.

The sensations that had stabbed into her when she'd come downstairs and seen Luke crouched by the fire returned with a vengeance. Her belly tightened. Her vaginal muscles contracted in a tight spasm.

“What if…?” She licked her lips, telling herself this was crazy, willing herself to stop this insanity. “What if I tell you I've been thinking about how good we were in bed, too?”

The light that leapt into his eyes had her planting a quick hand against his chest.

“In bed,” she reiterated. “Only in bed. As you said, we screwed up the rest of it.”

“We can do better this time,” he predicted with a confidence she didn't share.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

She'd offered him her heart once. She wasn't going to lay it out there again. But the strong, fast drum of
his
heart under her fingertips was muddling her thoughts.

“If…and that's a big if…we decided to up ante in this pretend relationship of ours, I'd want to play it the way we sold it to the press. One step at a time.”

“Agreed.”

He reached for her. Dayna stiffened her arm and held him at bay.

“It would just be sex, Harper. No commitment. No promises.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment she thought he was going to break off negotiations.

“All right,” he conceded after a pause. “We drive back to town. We get you to the cardiologist for your tests. We meet with Hawk. We take care of whatever business needs doing with Wu Kim Li. We deal with the media. Then we have sex. No frills. No hearts and flowers. No promises.”

It didn't sound so great fed back to her like that, but Dayna dipped her chin. “Agreed.”

When he reached for her again, she folded her arm and got it caught between his chest and hers.

“Just to seal the bargain…” he said, burying his hands in her hair.

This was no kiss staged for the cameras, no skilled performance. This one was raw, elemental. He ground his mouth over hers. The bristles on his cheeks and chin scraped her skin, marking her.

Dayna returned the kiss, holding nothing back. They'd agreed to the terms. Each understood the new rules of the game. She could let go, unleash her hunger for his touch and his taste and his scent. Then count the hours until they made good on their bargain.

 

The deal they'd struck occupied a big slice of her thoughts during the drive back to St. Andrews.

It was still early enough that they hit the morning rush hour—such as it was. Vehicles were queued up to cross the stone bridge linking the towns of Leuchars and St. Andrews. The tide was on its way in, churning and eddying the waters of the River Eden as it pushed up the channel. No fishermen or boaters risked the treacherous tidal currents, Dayna noted.

She would have preferred to detour to the hotel to shower and change before her treadmill test but wasn't up to running a gauntlet of inquisitive reporters. Luke delivered her to a side entrance of the hospital, parked the car and talked his way in on her interview with the cardiologist.

“Have you had a nuclear treadmill test before, Ms. Duncan?” the doctor asked.

“No, I haven't.”

“It's a quite simple procedure, really. We measure your heart rate and blood pressure at rest, insert an intravenous plug in your forearm and we start you walking. Moderately at first, then with gradually increasing speed and incline.”

He paused to hack for a moment. The cough and the pipe stem protruding from his pocket suggested the doc didn't adhere to a healthy lifestyle himself.

“About one to one and a half minutes before you finish exercising, we inject a low-grade radioactive isotope into the plug and flush it with a saline solution to make sure it washes through your blood.”

Oh, great, Dayna thought. First she went down like the Berlin Wall. Now she would glow in the dark.