Too Close To The Fire/Too Hot To Handle (Montana Men 3) (4 page)

Taylor
eyed the horrible gash on her forehead. It would leave an ugly scar. “You’re
going to have to wear bangs for the rest of your life.”

“Why?”

“Trust
me, sweetheart, don’t ask why.”

“Okay,”
she said faintly. “I hate bangs. I kinda like the rain.” Her lips quivered.

“Don’t
do it.”

“What?”

“Cry.”

Tears
filled her eyes and spilled over.

His
heart clenched, and he smothered a groan. “Damn it, didn’t I tell you not to do
that?”

He’d
seen her cry once, and once was enough. She cried, he melted, simple as that.
Nope, no waterworks, not right now, not when all he wanted to do was tug her
closer, hold her tight, and celebrate the fact they were both still alive in
the most elemental of ways.

Instead,
he clenched his jaw and glared at her. “Great! Of all the people to get stuck
with, I get you for the prize, a female with acorns for breasts, scrawny
chicken legs, and tear ducts that drip like a leaky faucet. You can’t even do a
decent job of crashing a plane, and you like the wet.”

Dianna
bucked beneath him. “Get off me,” she yelled, then grimaced.
“Ouch!
See what you made me do? I hurt
my head. I said,
get off me!”

He
stood up. “You’re such a pain in the—”

Taylor
jerked as another explosion jarred the ground from the burning wreckage. A
single chunk of red-hot metal belched from the wreckage and hurled through the
air straight at him.

He
grunted and rubbed his chest.
“Ouch!
Shit!” Quickly, he tore off his shirt and tossed both the chunk of glowing
metal and shirt aside. He eyed the red area above his heart. “Holy hell! It’s
bad enough you tried to kill me. I should have known better than to fly with
you. You’re like a one-woman-hit-and-fly killer, but now your damn plane belches
crap at me?”

She
blinked, pushed herself up, and wobbled toward him. “Let me see.”

“Leave
me alone!”

“Don’t
be such a baby. Let me look.” Dianna eyed the blisters already starting to
form. “You aren’t dead…yet.” She sighed. “I did not try to kill you, although
the things you’ve said to me are enough to rile any woman’s desire to commit
murder.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my God! This is priceless.”

“What?”
Taylor cut his eyes at the rows of blisters. “Hell, Dianna, it hurts. There
isn’t a damn thing funny about a circle of blisters on my chest.”

“Yes,
there is. It isn’t a circle.”

“What?
Would you mind sharing what you find so funny about me getting burned by a
piece of red-hot…whatever, because I fail to see the humor in it?”

“Oh,
Spencer, there are stronger forces at work here than even you or I can imagine.
That’s what’s funny. It wasn’t a piece of the plane. It’s the buckle off my
belt. D for Dianna. You’re wearing my brand.”

“Oh,
hell no! It will heal without leaving a scar.”

“Nope.
You might have to wear bangs.” She grinned.

“Funny.
I’m not wearing some woman’s brand,” he yelled, snarling.

“You
are now.” She quirked a brow. “And you always will.” Her lips twitched.

“You
did this on purpose!”

“How
could I do something like that deliberately? Don’t
touch
it! You’ll make it worse. Those are some pretty
whopping-sized blisters. I think I have a tube of ointment in my overnight
bag.”

“You
aren’t touching me. You, your brothers, you’ve all done enough to me and my
sister to last a lifetime. Get away from me,” he snapped.

Dianna
shrugged. “You don’t have to be so mean. It isn’t my fault you’re wearing my
brand.”

“I.
Am. Not. Wearing. Your. Brand,” he enunciated through clenched teeth.

She
snickered. “Says you.”

“S
tay the fuck away from me.”

“I’d
love to do just that, but unfortunately, we’re stuck with each other.”

Dianna
suddenly screamed and ran past him toward the burning wreckage. Taylor whipped
around in time to see her drop to the ground on her knees. “No! Oh, no!”

“What
the hell is wrong with you?”

“My
coat,” she said, lifting it in her arms like a baby and cooing. “My beautiful
fur coat. It–it’s holey.”

“What?”

She
held up the coat, dismay on her face.

He
laughed. “Put it down, Dianna. It’s still smoking. Guess some of the hot chunks
of metal landed on it.”

“It
isn’t funny. It’s genuine mink.”

“Now
it’s cooked mink. The coat was useless anyway. We’re in the tropics. Why did
you bring something so ridiculous?”

“It
isn’t ridiculous. You never know when a cold front might move in.”

Taylor
helped her to her feet. “I didn’t know birds could cause a crash. Are you sure
that’s what happened? That’s why we crashed?”

Frowning,
Dianna caught a movement from the corner of her eye and stilled. “Uh…yeah,
birds can cause major crashes.”

“Would
you at least give me the courtesy of looking at me when I’m talking to you?” he
snapped.

Her
eyes flickered toward him and away.

“I
want to know why we crashed. Are you sure there were birds?”

“Reasonably
sure,” she replied. “Why else would we crash?”

“Reasonably
sure? Did you see birds or not?”

“Not
really, no.”

“You
tried to kill me. You were playing around with the plane and caused it to
crash. That’s what really happened. Isn’t it?”

“I’m
not sure what happened.”

“Damn
it! Look at me!”

She
shifted from foot to foot, but her gaze remained focused on something else. “I
don’t think you have to worry about me killing you,” she said quietly.

“What?”

She
locked her fingers around his chin and twisted his head in the direction she
stared. “Look!”

Chapter Four

The
light at the end of the tunnel is just the light of an oncoming train.

~Robert
Lowell

North Western Australia

The Kimberly

February 7, Saturday.

“What?”
Taylor narrowed his eyes but didn’t see anything. “What is it? What do you
see?”

Jesus.
His chest hurt like hell. New blisters popped up every few seconds until the
center of the D was completely filled and surrounded. He didn’t feel up to
playing games.

He
steadied Dianna, but his mind was on gathering shit together so they’d survive
the damnable mess they were in. God knew they were in the middle of No Where,
Australia. He figured rescue was slim-to-none, with odds in favor of none.
Survival was going to be based on luck, not skill.

Taylor
took a moment to study the terrain. He thought their luck might have been a lot
worse. They could have crashed in the desert, where they’d have died quickly
from lack of water and bone-drying temperatures. Here, they could take a lot
longer to die, unless something unforeseen happened. “I didn’t know Australia
has rainforests.”

Dianna
frowned. “Yes. There are a few. Daintree Rainforest is the big one and best
known, but it’s in northern Queensland. We’re nowhere near it. We need to be
careful.”

“What?”

“Simple
things, like the blisters on your chest could get infected, turn septic. It’s
the little things that get a person killed in the rainforests.”

Taylor
scowled.
Little things my ass!

There
was nothing little about Australia. He figured the rainforest was teeming with
all kinds of hazards for the unwary. One wrong step and they’d be in a whole
heap of trouble. Knowing nothing about the country didn’t help matters, either.

The only thing he
knew was Australia had a variety of venomous snakes—of which he wouldn’t
recognize a single one—and he figured some of them dwelled in the rainforest,
were even now probably right under his nose or overhead. That thought popping
in his head immediately had him looking up at the canopy overhead.

Uh—yeah, snakes
plopping out of a tree and landing on him with his luck? It was a given. Would
they come bailing out in attack mode? Sure. Why not? Taylor shook his head,
feeling a bit foolish at his paranoia.

But
there were some equally nasty spiders, salt and fresh water crocs—and who knew
what other beastly things waited to devour them alive?

Even
if he was in great physical shape, which he wasn’t, he’d watched enough
television programs hosted by Steve Irwin to know the wild terrain in Australia
and everything about it was way out of
his
league. He admired and respected the man, the legend, his wonderful humor and
love of all species of animals and reptiles, but if an expert like Irwin
couldn’t survive nature in this country, how could
he
possibly expect to?

Regardless,
he needed to gather firewood, build a fire, because they weren’t going anywhere
today. They needed time to let their bodies rest for the ordeals ahead, mend
their wounds, see what food, water, and medical supplies they had, and he
needed to check Dianna for other injuries.

She
limped when she walked. He knew damn well she’d taken a hard blow to the head,
so most likely she had a concussion. The gash on her forehead looked messy and
no doubt needed suturing. She looked awful. The part of her clothing that
wasn’t covered in blood was ripped and hanging in rags. Her clothes looked
rather moth eaten, kind of like her mink coat.

He
wondered if she had any idea most of the top half of her shirt hung around her
waist. Princess Remington, who always looked fashionably turned out, looked
like shit. He’d never seen Dianna any way but immaculate, except for the time
she slipped and fell in Jillian’s blood. She’d looked like a refugee from
Friday the Thirteenth
that night.

He
slid his gaze over her. The thin, lacy cups of her bra and the tempting shadow
of her areolas and peach-tinted nipples were plainly visible.

Stop
licking your chops. She isn’t your private eye candy.

So
what if her tits were half exposed? She had no breasts to speak of. He didn’t
know why she bothered with a bra when she had so little to fill the cups. He’d
much rather see her go braless.

Taylor
frowned. And what did that say about him? If he was honest, he’d admit to
himself he liked her tits just fine. His palms itched to explore them, to tease
the nipples into a tight response. His mouth watered just thinking about
wrapping his tongue around the sweet buds and sucking on them until he had her
squirming with need.

No.
Taylor mentally shook his head. He couldn’t go there. Remembering he didn’t
like Dianna was important. He needed to keep that frame of mind. He
did not
like her,
did not
like her tits. All he wanted was to fuck her, once. One
time. Get her out of his system. Scratch the itch, be done with her.

For
sure, he
did not
like her brothers.
Once he fucked Dianna, he’d have to be ready for a fight, probably with every
one of them.

Impatiently,
he allowed his gaze to follow the direction she’d turned him.

“There,
on the ridge,” she said, pointing. “I thought I saw a–a wolf.”

Shading
his eyes with his hand, he searched the distant ridge, but all he saw was green
trees, greener vegetation, and shimmering heat waves. He slapped at an annoying
fly that nibbled at the blood on his arm. “I doubt it’s a wolf. Are there
wolves in Australia? No, I doubt there was anything there at all. You have a
concussion. You’re probably seeing things.”

“Maybe.”
She sounded doubtful. “My vision is a little weird. I see two of you, and
that’s a freakin’ nightmare.”

Taylor
laughed. “It’ll be a nightmare if we don’t get rescued. You have any idea where
we are?”

“Sure,
I do.” She flopped down on the ground and immediately pressed fingers to her
temples.
“Oooh.
I have a miserable
headache. Flies and mosquitoes buzz around my head. They think I’m a delicacy.
I’m bleeding like a pig, and there’s an iron pole sticking out of my leg.”

“What?
What’s sticking out of your leg?” He squatted beside her and started working
her skirt up her thigh.

She
slapped his hands and jerked her skirt down as far as it would reach, which
wasn’t far considering how short it was. “What are you doing? I’m practically
naked under there.”

Taylor
sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, I saw that and
practically
doesn’t apply.” He swallowed hard. Lord almighty. He’d
caught a delicious glimpse of the tiny, dark blue thong
barely
hiding the forbidden fruit under there. He didn’t think he’d
ever seen anything that looked as yummy as Dianna’s crotch hidden behind a thin
patch of blue silk. His dick stirred and rose. Oh. Crap. That was all he
needed, a woody tenting his jeans. “I need to see what’s poking…er, what’s in
your leg.”

“I’ll
do it.” Dianna gingerly pushed the hem of her skirt up past the injury. “See
it?”

“Yeah.”
Taylor rubbed a hand down his face. Another inch and he’d see
it
all right. “Shit. Sweetheart?”

Dianna
lifted her gaze. “Bad, huh?”

“It’s
going to hurt like hell when I pull it out.”

“Do
you think you could kiss me while you remove it?”

“No.”
He shook his head and very slowly lowered his mouth to hers. “Uh-uh.”

* * * *

Dianna
sighed against his mouth and parted her lips. His lips felt as soft as
butterfly wings against hers. If he kissed her this tenderly, she knew she was
in serious trouble.

She
felt his hand stroke her leg, glide up her thigh. Oh, God. If only he was
touching her to seduce her. Moisture pooled between her thighs, dampening the scanty
thong. His fingers splayed on top of her thigh, mere inches from her hoo-ha.
Dianna tightened her fingers in his hair and took control of the kiss.

His
fingers closed around the piece of iron.

She
concentrated on his kiss, let him own her mouth. Gingerly, she traced the tip
of her tongue along the edge of his bottom lip, then slid between just as he
yanked the piece of metal from her thigh. She cried out and tore free of his
mouth. Her body shook. Nausea curdled through her belly.

“Oh,
God. I’m going to be sick.” She looked at the blood flowing over her skin and
onto the ground in a small puddle. Tears wet her cheeks. “Damn, that hurt!”

“I
know, baby.” Taylor flung the piece of iron aside.

Dianna
rested her head against his shoulder. Her body trembled uncontrollably.

He
smoothed her hair with unsteady hands. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Come on. Sit up
straight. Why don’t you give me the rest of your shirt so I can wrap it around
your leg?”

Dianna
ripped what was left of her shirt and folded a piece of it into a thick pad.
She pressed it tightly over the wound while Taylor tied a strip around it to
secure it in place.

“You
need to stay off it as much as possible. You don’t need to lose more blood.
I’ll find something for it in a minute, for your forehead, too.” Taylor busied
himself untying the string on the sleeping roll and spread the bag under a
nearby tree. He came back to her, leaned down, and lifted her into his arms.

“What
are you doing? Put me down! Your legs.”

He
slanted his hot gaze at her. “If I can kiss you, I can damn sure carry you a
short distance.” Gently, he placed her on the sleeping bag. “Sooner or later,
we’re going to finish what’s between us, Dianna.”

She
squirmed on the sleeping bag. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah.
You know. I’m going to fuck you, maybe more than once.”

Dianna
flinched. “Well, guess that leaves little doubt what you meant in the plane
when you said
Fuck you
.”

“I
didn’t realize you weren’t clear on my meaning. In case there’s any more doubt.
I’m going to fuck you…soon.”

“No
you aren’t. It takes two. And I’m not willing to be the other half of your
tango party.”

“Sure
you are. You know how I know?”

She
shook her head.

“Because
you had your tongue rammed down my throat like you were searching for my
tonsils. A woman kisses a man like that when she wants him like crazy.”

“You
flatter yourself.”

He
grinned. “Lie back. I want to look at that cut on your head.”

She
swayed toward him. He ended up grabbing her by the arm to steady her. “Careful.
Ouch.
Don’t touch the blisters!”

“Sorry.
You need to put a shirt on. The flies will drive you crazy if you don’t.”

“I
will in a minute. Now lie back.”

“I
don’t want to lie down,” she said fussily. “I’ll get blood all over it. We have
to sleep on it.”

* * * *

Taylor
froze.

Sleep on it?

As in, sleep on it together?

Side by side?

Oh,
yeah, he’d screw her all right, so fast she wouldn’t know what happened.

He
glanced around, feeling that much more desperate. There was no way he’d be able
to sleep beside her and not touch her. Nope, wasn’t happening. He–he’d—well, it
wouldn’t work. He lurched to his feet, cleared his throat, and grabbed her bag
from where he’d slung it earlier.

“What
are you doing?”

Taylor
looked up from pawing through her oversized purse. “I’m looking to see if you
have a small sewing kit or maybe a tube of ointment of some kind.”

“Back
outside flap,” she said sweetly and grabbed the bag from his hands. “I’d
appreciate it if you didn’t prowl through my things.”

“Fine.
You wanna stitch up yourself?”

She
snorted and pressed the tiny sewing kit into his hands. “No. I’ll get my turn
doing you.”

He
choked.

Doing me?
Damn, did she have to make it sound so sexual?

Why
did this one female have the power to reduce him to a pile of useless ashes?
Wanting her left a sour taste in his mouth. He resented the fact she managed to
burrow under his skin, that she aroused him without trying.

Dianna
dug out a travel pack of moistened wipes and handed them to him.

“Okay,
let’s get you cleaned up.” Taylor squatted down in front of her and carefully
wiped away the caked blood and black smudges of smoke on her face. “You’re a
mess.”

Dianna’s
gaze flickered over his face. He wondered if the goose egg over his left eye
was as big as it felt. She touched it gently. “Do you have a headache as bad as
mine?”

Taylor
glanced up. “I don’t know how bad your headache is, but yes, my skull feels
like it’s going to explode any second.”

“You
shouldn’t be taking care of me. You’re hurt, too. You look awful.”

Crimson
ribbons slid down his arm. “You don’t look so hot yourself.”

“How
are your legs? You shouldn’t have carried me.”

He
snorted and dabbed at the edges of the cut on her forehead. “Like you give a
shit how my legs are? I’m fine. You don’t weigh as much as a mouse. Be still!
You’ll cause me to hurt you, jerking like that.”

“You
did hurt me.
Ouch!
I said that
hurts.”

Annoyance
flickered in his eyes. “You think you can stand for me to stitch you up, or are
you going to be a sissy about this? If you don’t let me sew that gash, you’re
gonna have one big ugly-ass scar. You’ll look like Frankenstein’s bride.”

She
drew a deep breath. “Help me up and hand me back my bag.”

Taylor
helped her to her feet. “Why do you want your bag?”