Never Surrender (Task Force Eagle) (11 page)

“Absolutely. No competition.” She deliberately ignored
the tingle his touch ignited. She unclipped her barrette and smoothed her hair.

Before she could clamp it again, he plucked up the
barrette. He let a handful of hair run through his fingers. “This is beautiful,
like a sunset halo. Leave it loose,
querida
.” He tucked the clasp into
her coat pocket. “For me.”

Mesmerized by his poetry and his musky scent, layered
with mint, Juliana could only bob her head like a mechanical toy. Before he
could kiss her, she ducked out the door.

She traipsed to the water’s edge. Mushy ice covered
most of the center, but at the shore, the clear water lapped gently against a
narrow cobble beach. She picked up a rock. “Does skipping stones come under the
heading of competition?”

“You’re talking to the stone-skipping champ of South
Beach.” Rick hefted a small, flat rock. “This’ll be a snap. You don’t have the
water hazards we do in Florida.”

From the devilment gleaming in his eyes, she should
have known not to bite, but she couldn’t help it. “Water hazards?”

“Alligators.”

Laughter bubbled up. She didn’t believe his wild tale,
but she’d play along. “Alligators. I’d like to see that. What do you do, try to
skip off its head?”

“I’m crushed, Juliana. I get the feeling you don’t
believe me.” His grin faded, his dark brows beetling in a severe expression she
couldn’t interpret. “No, the game is to avoid the alligator. Best not to rouse
him. The beasts are unpredictable.”

“So you hope you have a body of water without an
alligator. Much safer that way.”

“Even if you don’t see one, the possibility injects
tension into the game.”

Were they still discussing alligators? Or maybe she
was reading too much into a playful conversation. She averted her gaze to
search for a flat stone.

“Let’s see what I can do with these Maine rocks.” One
smooth swing sent his stone skimming the water. Three skips and it sank with a
plop. “Out of practice.”

“No alligators.” Eyeing the glittering surface, she
curved her fingers around her skipper, smooth and gray as rain. With a snap,
she sent it flying.

One, two, three, four hops before it thudded onto an
ice raft.

“Not bad. Without the ice, you might have gotten
another bounce or two.” He stepped in front of her. “You want to teach me your
technique? You could guide my swing. Come wrap your arms around me.”

“You are such a hound.” Laughing, she pushed a stone
into his hand. “I’m not falling for that. And I’m not showing you any tricks.
You have quite enough of your own.”

After a lengthy competition, which Rick declared a tie
but Juliana insisted she won, they trekked around Crooked Lake. Bare maples and
birches interspersed with spruce and other evergreens ringed the angular body
of water. At irregular intervals, cottages loomed in the woods, dark and
boarded up.

His appreciation of this remote spot was contagious.
With him at her side, the crisp air seemed sweeter and sharper, permeated with
the tangy scent of the surrounding firs.

By the time they returned to the cabin, shadows
stitched over the sun diamonds on the lake surface. He lit the Coleman lantern
hanging in the small kitchen and she laid a fire in the Franklin.

She sorted through the groceries. “Chicken, green pepper,
onion, rice, garlic. “Mmm, I can’t wait to taste this Cuban culinary creation
you’ve been promising me. I looked it up.”

“Of course you did.”

“
Arroz con
polo, is that how you say it?”

“
Pollo.”
He pronounced it
poyo
. “Won’t
be authentic without the saffron, but it’ll do.”

“
Arroz con pollo
sounds exotic. Does it mean
something glamorous?”

He ambled closer, his rich laughter echoing against
the log rafters and down her spine. “If you think ‘rice with chicken’ is
glamorous.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Glamorous doesn’t matter, but
tasty does. Do you have the recipe?”

“You probably want it in a list to get it exact.” He
caught her to him and brushed a kiss on her mouth. “A little of this, a little
of that, I can prepare this dish with my eyes closed.”

She wanted to snuggle in his arms, but recipes should
be measured. “But—”

“Relax. You’ll see.” He peered at the bottle of
generic white wine she’d extracted from the shopping bag. “Too bad we have wine
instead of rum. A mojito, now there’s a real drink, rum and limejuice. Sitting
by a fire, you’d love it.”

“You keep promising me Cuban delights. When will you
deliver?” Uh oh, double entendre. She was in trouble. Strangely, the prospect
didn’t bother her.

His eyes darkened. His long-fingered hands molded her
shoulders, then slid down her spine. “When you’re ready, Juliana, we’ll
discover our delights together.”

His smooth voice flowed through her, intoxicating as a
mojito. He released her. “I want nothing more than to demonstrate. Keep that
thought. It’s a little chilly in here for what I have in mind.”

He knelt by the woodstove and added wood to the fire.

*****

After the fire was blazing, Rick rolled up his
shirtsleeves and joined Juliana in the kitchen. She chopped onions and peppers
while he prepared the chicken pieces. When the chicken and vegetables were
bubbling, he started the rice.

She set their places on a low pine table near the
fire.

The Franklin stove’s doors stood open to display the
flames, still bright behind its screen. She’d left her hair loose, and the
red-gold curls seemed alive with the dancing flames. A faint smile curved her
mobile mouth, drawing him to stare at her lower lip and the arched bow of the
upper. This view of her gilded with firelight stirred him to rampant life.

No matter how crazy he was for her, it was still a
casual relationship. And he meant to keep it that way. But casual didn’t mean
hands off.

He turned off the flame beneath the rice. He edged
closer to her and hooked an arm around her, kissing the skin beneath her ear.
Her jaw and velvety cheek lured his lips like magnets. “I could get used to
this place. And the company.”

She turned in his arms to flash a smile. For a change,
not cautious with him, her gaze held desire. “Some families spend the entire
summer here. And drive long distances to work.”

“Must be nice to get away totally.” He glided the back
of one hand along her cheek and down her neck.

The lushness of her breasts pressed against him as she
snuggled nearer. He held her, acutely aware of the length of their bodies
touching—thighs and knees, hips and torsos. He sensed a similar awareness in
her. This dynamo who was never still stood quietly in his arms. He nuzzled her
hair and inhaled her scent.

She felt so perfect he didn’t want to move. Except
lust shot through him with a furnace blast. He burned for her, ached for this
intriguing woman made of stubbornness and loyalty, vulnerability and humor,
reserve and sensuality.

“Juliana?” Shit, you’d think he was a horny kid, a
desperate one.

She gazed up at him with dreamy eyes. “Mmm? Are you
hungry? You’re the chef.”

“I’m hungry, yes, starving—but for you.” He covered
her hand where it lay on his chest and laced his fingers with hers. Soft and
delicate.

Her breath hitched. “Dinner will keep?”

“It’ll taste even better later. Since we met I’ve
longed to make love to you.”

She sighed. “I want you too.”

“And you understand—”

She placed a finger on his lips to silence him. “Shh,
don’t chill this evening with cold lake water. I know what I’m doing.” Her
smooth finger trailed across his lips.

“You won’t be sorry.” He captured her hand and kissed
each finger. Her eyelashes drifted lower as he pushed up her sleeve and kissed
his way up her arm.

Almost moaning with relief, he kissed the unbearably
tender spot inside her elbow. He wanted her so much he trembled. “Tell me,
Juliana, tell me what you want.”

Her chin lifted, and her lashes. Desire burned with
green fire in the depths of her eyes, as if alight from within. A mischievous
smile tilted her mouth. “You’re so romantic and poetic, but you’re forcing me
to be clear, so I have a list.”

“A list. I can’t wait.”

“First, I want to be naked with you.”

Flames ignited in his veins. “Juliana—”

Her cool finger on his lips silenced him. “Two, I want
you to kiss me all over.”

He ached at the image.

That cool finger swept sparks across his forehead and
his temple. “Three, I want to explore your body as well.”

“Is there a four?”
I’ll die if there isn’t.

“Four, most of all, I want you inside me for what I
suspect will be incredible, mind-blowing sex.” She trailed a sizzling fuse down
his chest to his navel.

His heart raced, and he had to clasp her shoulders to
stop his hands from shaking. “I want to take it slowly with you. I want a
leisurely journey of anticipation, but you make restraint impossible. I crave
you so much I burn hotter than that fire.”

With a smile as seductive as Eve’s, she took his hand
and started toward the bedroom.

“Not in there. I want to see you bathed in firelight.”
He rushed past her to snatch a quilt from the foot of the bed. She shoved back
the sofa. He spread the quilt before the Franklin stove, then tugged her down
with him onto the padded softness.

They knelt, their bodies aligned, and kissed. The heat
of her mouth made him groggy with craving. With a sweep of his tongue, he
probed her texture, the ridges of her teeth, the sweetness of her desire as her
tongue sought his.

“We have on too many clothes.”

“Agreed.” She flicked open his top shirt button, then
the next, and the next until she slid the garment down and off. “This shirt
looks good on you. And off you.”

Her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, but he
brushed them away. “Later. My turn.” He peeled off her sweater, and then the
lace bra. “Yeah, oh, yeah.”

A blush spread over her cheeks and down to her
breasts. He had to see where the rosy color would end. She sucked in a breath
when he stroked a nipple.

“Beautiful. Satiny nipples the color of pink hibiscus
blossoms.”

She chuckled. “A breast connoisseur.”

“You bet.” He lowered her to their bedding and brushed
his lips over each peaked nipple, laving and tasting the sweetness of her skin.
When he suckled her, she arched upward and uttered a soft
ah
. He kissed
down to her flat stomach. “Breast connoisseur, belly connoisseur. Any part you
have with this soft skin.”

A reflection of flames gilded her moistened breasts.
Dizziness pulsed in his head, in his loins. His need for her overwhelmed him.

She must have seen the heat in his eyes because she
unzipped her jeans and pushed them and her panties down and kicked them off.
Those runner’s killer legs. His gaze riveted on the curls at their apex. A
darker gold, they hinted at the heated passion inside her.

That she trusted him enough to bare herself to him
touched him more deeply than her desire for him. He was used to women desiring
him, but trust had never been an issue. Juliana had journeyed from fearing his
intentions to reliance on his skills and honor, and finally to trust. In spite
of what still stood between them, she opened herself to him.

It humbled him.

The fire crackled as sap bubbled within. The flames
danced and weaved, caressing each other. The only other sound was the thudding
of their hearts.

He skinned away the rest of his clothing so fast that
she laughed.

Before tossing away his jeans, he extracted a foil
packet. “That little store might not have much of a spice and wine selection,
but they had plenty of these.”

“Kiss me.”

He did.

At last they were skin to skin. He kissed her
shoulder, her breasts, her hips and thighs and inhaled the female musk of her
skin. He stroked her body as she moved beneath him.

Her hands caressed his skin, traced the contours of
his muscles, and rubbed his nipples until he ground his teeth. She ran her
palms down his back to his buttocks and scraped her nails over the base of his
spine.

Wildfire streaking over his body, he groaned. Dammit,
he would hold out long enough for her. He massaged the wet silk between her
legs. “You’re so ready for me.”

Moaning, she reached for him, cupping him and stroking
him.
“Now, Rick, now.”

When they joined, he groaned at the exquisite
sensation. She was slick and small and tight. His climax clawed at him, but he
took care to join them slowly, and the wonder of it, the joy of the soul-deep
oneness he felt with her stilled him. Stunned him. Awed him.

She locked her legs around him, and they kissed
endlessly as passion built.

He stiffened, fire surging in his blood, poised on the
edge, straining to hold back until she joined him. “Come with me,
mi mariposa
,
fly with me.”

And then she cried out, her strong legs gripping him
as her body rippled beneath him.

Her spasms squeezed him, sent him flying with her.
“Ah
. . . mi corazón, mi corazón.”

Chapter 11

Two hours later, Juliana’s mind and body still hummed
from their lovemaking. Mind-blowing didn’t begin to describe the experience.
Softness uncurled inside her at the anticipation of more.

After they’d eaten and cleared away the dishes and the
rest of the Cuban chicken, they built up the fire again and snuggled on the
quilt. The wood fire scent layered over the chicken aromas made her drowsy.

She wore only her brother’s old tee shirt. She set
down the tumbler that served as a wine goblet, then leaned against the sofa.