Torrid Nights (11 page)

So many sensations were swirling around her! To Mackenna, they brought a new kind of excitement. Leaning back, she closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of the sun. How long had it been since she had felt truly warm? A healthy warmth from the sun and not the raging heat of fever? Suddenly, the memory of the alternate chills and flashes of heat brought by malaria made her flinch. If she had to endure one more cycle, she would go insane….

“You needed to get back into the sun,” Brock murmured, as though reading her thoughts. “I remember you as brown as a coffee bean, out there on the road. Now you’re so pale I wondered if you were going to go white as an Australian opal and then disappear on me.”

“I wanted to disappear,” she muttered fervently.

“There was no reason to. I want you around.”

“You had a funny way of showing it, Brock.”

“Things are different now. Maybe I didn’t express myself as well as I could have. Maybe I couldn’t face the way I felt. But I’ve changed, Mackenna,” he said, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. “You must give me credit for that.”

“A tiger never changes his stripes, and you haven’t changed, either. The first time I met you, you were always angry. And the second time, all I can remember about you between the bouts of malaria is that you yelled all the time and threw orders around.”

He gauged her silently, his blue eyes darkening. “Haven’t you wondered why I was yelling and giving orders, Mackenna? When I returned to Java to check on your project and found you near death, it changed my whole damn world in two seconds! I had expected to find you as fit and healthy as you were before. I was looking forward to reestablishing contact with you. It took me two days to reach your camp in that monsoon rain. When I arrived, Sully told me what had happened. I dropped everything to see if I could get you to a hospital where you could be treated. And you didn’t make matters easy for me.”

“I don’t need your pity!” she cried. “I don’t need someone who can respond to me only when I’m down. I want someone who can stand up to me when I’m a hundred percent. I thought you could, Brock, but I was wrong.”

He reached out, gripping her arm tightly. “Dammit, I didn’t do what I did out of pity. Get that through your thick head!”

Mackenna felt an incredible urge to run away from him. If she tried, she knew her legs would buckle beneath her and she would have to endure his help once again. “Look, you’ve done your good deed, so why don’t you just get out of my life and back to your own?”

“I have no intention of leaving you now.”

Her muscles tensed with anger as she glared down at him. “I want nothing from you!”

His mouth drew into a taut line. “That’s too bad because you’re going to get it, anyway,” he growled, getting to his feet. “Tomorrow you’re coming home with me to finish your convalescence.”

“Oh, am I?” she demanded.

“Damn right.” he said, quietly.

Mackenna didn’t answer.

Brock’s house stood alone on the white sands above the blue-green ocean not far from Sydney. The roof jutted upward like the point of a spear and huge windows caught the sun, giving it the appearance of a seaside jewel. A sundeck embraced over half the structure, sand dunes complementing the silvery cedar of which the house was constructed. “It’s lovely,” she breathed, despite her unsettled feelings.

Brock nodded, guiding the Mercedes into the adjoining garage and shutting off the engine. “Well, we’re home. Let’s get you into the house and settled. I’ll have Ree bring your luggage in later.”

Mackenna hesitated when he held out his hand. But despite her attempt at caution, a new kind of excitement suffused her. She allowed herself to lean against him as they negotiated the series of stairs that had been lovingly crafted from driftwood. Once inside, she realized that the house possessed an aura of warmth and intimacy. Asian jungle plants adorned the corners of the main room, giving the interior a look of vitality. The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed the sunlight to cascade into the cathedral-roofed living room like a molten-gold waterfall. The rattan chairs were graced with pale orange cushions, and a thick carpet of an even lighter, peachy shade, gave the area an ethereal warmth.

Brock shortened his stride as Mackenna walked slowly through the rooms, gawking like a child. “I’ve never seen such a beautifully decorated home,” she whispered grudgingly.

An unwilling smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t been in some very fashionable villas in Hong Kong and Djakarta.”

“A few. But none of them were like this. It’s so intimate…as if…” She raised her chin, meeting his amused gaze. “You designed this yourself and did the decorating, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I thought. It expresses an entirely different side of your personality.”

“Oh?”

“The better half,” she admitted softly. “A much better half.”

“Good. Does that mean you admit I’m not an ogre all of the time?”

Mackenna flushed. “I never called you that, specifically.”

“Oh, yes, you did,” he chuckled, opening another door that led into the guest suite. “I was the one who was by your side when you were delirious. You called me every name in the book.” He raised an eyebrow. “Really, Mackenna, I didn’t know you could swear like that.”

She stood still, flustered. His grip tightened and he gently drew her against the hard maleness of his body. There was a dancing liveliness in his azure eyes that drew her effortlessly in. And then Mackenna was violently aware of Brock’s hand resting lightly on her hip as he gazed fondly down at her. An irresistible magnetism radiated from him as surely as the sun’s rays spilled through the cathedral windows of the house. Her hand had automatically risen, stopping him as he attempted to draw her closer. He felt the tension in her arms and didn’t force the issue. Withdrawing, he stood quietly beside her in the center of the guest room.

A smile edged his mouth, and he looked beyond her. “This is your room, princess. Think you can enjoy the view from here?” She turned toward the windows. The sparkling blue of the ocean melted into the diamond-white sands three hundred yards in the distance. “I think I will,” she answered, her voice tremulous. After he had left, Mackenna kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed, pulling the spread over her, gladly sinking into the softness of the mattress. Her mind had turned to jelly, and she closed her eyes, her thick auburn lashes feathering her cheeks.
Princess…
He had called her that before. The endearment sent a warming thrill through her and she felt her heart respond openly to the huskiness of that one word. Every time he whispered it, Mackenna felt as if he had reached out and lightly stroked her skin. With that thought, she was wrapped in a cocoon of darkness into which were woven the first delicate filaments of happiness.

Mackenna awoke slowly, her body suffused with a delicious sense of warmth. Her dreams had been good ones. In them she had run along the sparkling sands, the water crashing at her feet. She yawned. It was dark now except for a small night-light nearby. Rolling over on her back, she luxuriated in the sound of the waves pounding on the sloping beach. It must be high tide, she thought drowsily. As her stomach rumbled, Mackenna realized that for the first time in a long time she was actually hungry. Even her customary headache had disappeared. Oh, the healing miracle of sleep!

The door opened quietly. A shaft of light pierced the darkness as Brock entered. Mackenna lifted her head, always amazed at how broad his shoulders appeared. He shut the door and advanced softly to where she lay.

“Checking up on me?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

Brock sat down on a corner of the bed, resting his hands on his muscular thighs. “About once an hour. You didn’t hear me before?”

“No. I was dead to the world.”

“Let’s just say you were sleeping hard. I don’t like the word dead. You came too close to buying a piece of that real estate.”

Mackenna smiled grudgingly, running her fingers through her mop of short hair, trying to tame it into some semblance of order. “I can’t believe it. I had pleasant dreams.”

He glanced down at her. “I know.”

“How could you know that?”

“You talk in your sleep.”

“Mmmm. I thought I only swore.”

“Well, mainly that,” he teased. “But I’ll venture to say that you chatter into your pillow because you don’t communicate with human beings. Or not nearly enough. You need to start doing that again.”

Her mouth opened in surprise, and she engaged his inquiring eyes. “Look at the pot calling the kettle black,” she retorted more strongly than she intended.

Brock spread his hands in a gesture of acquiescence. “Maybe it’s not too late for either one of us. I admit, I haven’t been exactly loquacious.”

She grimaced. “Tell me about it. You were living inside a damn fortress when you arrived.”

“But you melted down all my barriers, Mackenna.” He rose, smiling deeply into her eyes. “It took me thirty-eight years to erect those walls, and you destroyed them within three weeks. You are one hell of a strategist, lady.”

She sat up and retrieved her shoes, slipping them on. “I still haven’t figured out why you’ve invited me to stay here for the next six weeks.”

He grinned, his teeth white against the bronze of his skin. “Because I like living dangerously. Come on. Ree has just finished steaming some rock lobster and he makes an incredible sauce to go with it. Hungry?”

“Starved. Lead the way.”

Mackenna was surprised to see that it was almost 10 p.m. She had slept for nearly nine hours. Ree, a slightly built Indonesian man, bowed deeply when Mackenna entered the small dining room. He appeared to be in his late fifties. Brock made introductions and seated her at the rattan-and-glass table. Candlelight provided an intimate atmosphere and from somewhere in the background, the strains of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” rose, weaving a web of magic about the lovely room. As soon as Ree had served the lobster and a sumptuous array of steaming vegetables, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving them alone.

Mackenna ate hungrily, finishing an entire lobster and a good portion of the vegetables. Brock poured her a small glass of white wine.

“The doctor says you shouldn’t have this stuff, but a little can’t hurt. It may even help your digestion.” Brock raised his glass, the candlelight softening the planes of his face. “Let’s toast to us, Mackenna. You’ve brought me something I’ve never experienced before.”

Mackenna held her glass to her lips, watching him over the crystal rim. “Do you know what all this reminds me of?”

He set the glass down, tipping his head to one side, a glint of amusement lingering in his eyes. “What does all of this mean to you, fairy-tale princess?”

There was just the right edge of teasing in his voice; it gave her the courage to go on. “I have these wild fantasies sometimes,” Mackenna admitted, feeling the heat of the blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Tell me. I’m very interested in the way you look at me.”

She placed her napkin on the table. “This home reminds me of a remote castle, deep in the wilderness. You’re the dark knight who lives here alone. People hate and fear you, but they don’t realize how lonely you really are. Or how sensitive.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry. The wine must have gone to my head. I don’t normally go around talking about these things. You must think I’m nuts.”

He got up and poured them each a cup of coffee. “Hardly, Mackenna. I understood you perfectly and you’re right on all counts. Come on. Feel like walking out on the deck to enjoy our coffee?”

He moved two wrought-iron chairs together, and they sat, arm to arm. The moon had just risen, full and bright, spreading a carpet of dappled silver across the calm ocean before them. After the fulfilling meal, the lulling peacefulness of the terrace made Mackenna feel deliciously relaxed. She sipped the fragrant coffee, recognizing the distinctive flavor of the strong Javanese blend.

Brock leaned back, regarding her from the corner of his eye. “So tell me about loneliness, Mackenna.”

She held his gaze, trying to figure out why he had asked such a question. “Are you asking because I said you were lonely?”

“Perhaps,” he murmured.

Mackenna smiled. “It’s not a sin to be lonely. In our line of work it’s the norm, I’d say. A person can be alone without being lonely, though.”

“True. Which way do you see me? Alone, or lonely?”

She watched the frothing crest of a particularly large wave, the faint spray catching the moonlight as the wave broke and then crashed into the renewed darkness of the ocean. “I see you as alone.”

“It’s true,” he admitted. “I don’t have much family and I suppose I’ve always been something of a loner. It’s just how I am.”

“I think you’re that way because you prefer to avoid relating to people on an emotional level.”

Brock raised an eyebrow. “Touché, Mackenna.”

She sat, balancing the cup in her hands. “You aren’t even going to try to deny it?”

“Why should I? You’ve seen right through me from the first day we met.”

She took a deep breath. “Why this sudden honesty, Brock?” she asked evenly. “When you’d been gone a couple of months, I assumed I’d never hear from you again.” She cast a quick glance at him, hurt tingeing her voice. “I thought I had found something special in you, Brock.” She sat up, squaring her shoulders and setting the coffee cup on the rail. “Since you’re being so honest, let me be honest, too. You stirred me out of my own self-protective shell of grief back in Java. When I met you, I started to live again. You made me want to reach out, to get to know you. But after you’d been gone a month, I knew I’d misjudged the situation. I realized that you couldn’t accept me as I was. I was too strong for you, Brock. I’d scared you off just as I had so many other men.”

The silence grew between them. Mackenna didn’t have the courage to look up and see the reaction her words had provoked. She held her breath.

Brock stood up and his hands closed about her arms, lifting her to her feet. He placed his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. Perplexity darkened his searching eyes as he drank in her features. “Your most admirable quality is your honesty, Mackenna. I don’t know how you can be so trustful. I could take your words and use them against you.”

Mackenna’s lips parted, and she felt an incredible surge of pain squeezing her heart. “I can’t be anything but honest,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “I’m not like you, Brock. I just don’t have what it takes to erect barricades around myself. I’ve never had that ability.”

He frowned. “And dammit, you’re paying the full price of it. Look at you now. I can see the pain in your eyes, Mackenna. Why do you trust me when you know I can hurt you all over again?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“I hurt you before. I walked out on you without a word. You’re right,” he admitted, “you did frighten me. Yet we really did help each other. I forced you to come alive again and you forced me out of my shell.” He shook his head, sliding his hand across her cheek. “But you’re wrong about one thing, princess. I never feared you as a woman. You weren’t too strong for me. Your engineering credentials and the type of job you had never made you less feminine in my eyes.” They shared a gentle smile and Brock cupped her face between his calloused palms. “As a matter of fact, you’ve been the best damn surprise I’ve ever had, out in the jungle or anywhere else. There you were, bending over the Cat engine, grease smeared all over your face, and your green eyes so filled with life.” He groaned softly. “I love you, Mackenna.”

Mackenna blinked, overwhelmed by emotion. She leaned gratefully against his hard, male body, a willow within his arms as they slid around her, capturing her against him. He bent down, his mouth caressing her lips. Instinctively, her arms drifted around Brock’s neck and her fingers curled into the silken hair at the nape. For a second time, his mouth molded itself deliciously to her lips, parting them and seeking entrance. A soft moan rose in her throat as his tongue explored the honeyed depths of her mouth with inviting slowness. His hands, once gentle, now ran firmly down the length of her back, capturing her hips against his hard erection, sending a wild bolt of fiery desire through her body.

Mackenna breathed deeply of his natural male scent, lost in a vortex of sensation. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird struggling to set itself free as Brock’s fingers gently caressed the outer curve of her breasts. The strength, the power of this magnificent male overwhelmed her totally. Ever so slowly, he released her. His dark eyes smoldered with passion as he looked hungrily down at her. She felt him trembling, suddenly aware of the raw animal passion that had risen to ensnare them within that net of desire. Her lips throbbed, bruised by his strong, uncompromising mouth. She could only stare at him, childlike, totally within his power, knowing she would be unable to stop him if she wanted to, and yet she didn’t…

“I want you,” he rasped, his voice raw as he leaned down, burying his face in her hair. “God how I want you….”

Mackenna closed her eyes, feeling his heart thud like a hammer in his broad chest. He gave her a new kind of strength, a new sense of hope that spiraled through her wounded heart. “I know,” she whispered, her voice unsteady, her breathing shallow and uneven.

His fingers tightened around her waist, and he sighed heavily, enfolding her in his arms, holding her tightly against him. “You’re a witch casting a spell,” he muttered thickly. “You haven’t left my mind for one minute since I said goodbye to you on Java. I thought I was going crazy. When I closed my eyes I could see you. When I sat through those damn long business meetings I could let my mind drift until I heard your clear, beautiful laughter.” Brock pulled away and looked at her. “Do you know how many times I relived those three weeks, Mackenna? Every damn day since I left you.”

Overcome with emotion, Mackenna swallowed the lump that was rising in her throat. She relaxed in his arms, completely supported by them as the soothing crash of waves began at last to calm her. Sighing, she luxuriated in the touch of his hand against her hair. “I thought you’d deserted me,” she admitted.

Brock groaned. “I did, honey. Out of my own fear. I couldn’t deal with what you offered me. It was too good to be real, Mackenna. You were like a dream come true. I couldn’t trust it, my darling. The potential for pain was too great.”

“Oh, Brock,” she whispered, anguish in her tone.

Gently, he spoke her name, picking her up in his arms. Mackenna rested against him, her head on his shoulder and her arms about his neck. Brock carried her to his bedroom and set her on the large bed. His finger trailed down her damp cheek, his hand cradling her face. “I love you,” he whispered again.

Mackenna swallowed painfully, closing her eyes and allowing her cheek to rest in the calloused hollow of his hand. “And I love you, Brock. I don’t know when it happened, but it did,” she admitted. He was beside her now, guiding her down on the bed. She drew in a strangled breath, unable to deal with the collision of emotions inside her. Brock held her in his arms, kissing her temple and cheek. After a while, he propped himself up on one elbow to study her with an intensity that left her breathless. “Tonight, all I want to do is please you, princess. That’s all I want or need right now.” A scowl began to form on his forehead as he watched her. “I’ve never loved a woman for herself as I want to love you. I’m new at this, Mackenna. For the first time I truly want to share myself with someone. I’ll try to be gentle with you,” he whispered, drawing her back into the strength of his arms.

His words tore down the last vestiges of her defense, and Mackenna pressed herself against his solid, muscular form, surrendering to him totally. The sands of time trickled to a halt, and she was aware of each coaxing touch of his fingers on her body.

He undressed her with maddening slowness, unbuttoning her blouse with unhurried assurance. She had not worn a bra, and as he pushed the blouse off, he leaned over, his mouth capturing the hardening nipple. She gasped, arching against him, her fingers sinking into the taut muscles of his shoulders. It was as if an electrical charge had jolted her all the way down to her womb; all her dormant desires exploded to life beneath Brock’s magical touch. His mouth closed over her other nipple and an exquisite burst of pleasure surged through her body.

He raised his head and found her lips, parting them with his probing tongue, giving her no choice but to enjoy their connection with one another. His mouth curved hotly against hers, his tongue sending a new wave of sensations surging throughout her. His fingers slid down beneath the waistband of her slacks and he unzipped them. His fingers glided slowly across the smooth expanse of her belly, following the curve of her hip to her inner thigh. Mackenna moaned softly, absorbing his teasing touch, capable only of responding to his probing hand as he stroked her yielding flesh into new, expectant awareness.