Secrets & Seductions (10 page)

The image of being lost in a dark forest sent a shiver of panic through Emma. What if he decided to set out without her?

“You won't leave me alone, will you?” she asked, clutching his arm. “I'd be terrified.”

Solemnly he patted her hand. “I wouldn't desert you. We're in this together.”

Beneath her palm, his forearm was warm to the touch and the light dusting of hair made her want to stroke his skin. She struggled to keep her elation from showing as she looked into his face. Spending the night together in the shelter was a much better idea than trying to hike back to camp.

“I guess we don't have any choice,” she agreed softly, slipping her hand into his. “I'm glad you're with me.”

Something sparked in his eyes as his fingers squeezed hers, but then he pulled away and got to his feet. “How does your ankle feel now?”

Disappointed by his withdrawal, she shifted the cold pack and extended her bare leg. Cautiously she moved her foot. “It's not sore right now.”

Already the sun was heading toward the line of trees to the west. Once it set, the temperature would no doubt drop quickly.

“We need to check out the shelter,” he said. “It's
not that far. Once you're settled, you can take a couple of anti-inflammatory pills and elevate your foot. That may help to keep it from swelling.”

“Okay.” She was content to let him take charge. The way he stood over her with his hands parked on his hips and a confident expression on his face while he made the decisions might not be politically correct, but it was certainly sexy.

“I'll come back for the packs,” he said as he helped her up.

It was far too late for Emma to turn back now. Carefully she balanced on one foot while she steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder. The feel of his muscles under her palm was such a distraction that she nearly forgot to keep her weight off her injured ankle.

“I must look like a stork,” she muttered as she wobbled on one leg.

“Okay, put your arms around my neck.” There was a sudden edge to his tone as he ducked his head.

She realized that he planned to carry her. If she had been standing on her own, the thought of being held in his arms might have made her legs go weak. “Maybe I could hobble that far.”

“The ground's too uneven,” he replied. “Also, we need to get the basics done on our way. Don't be embarrassed. After putting on this camp session for the last five years, there isn't much I haven't had to deal with.”

As Emma realized his intention, her cheeks
flamed and she gaped up at him in sheer horror. “I can manage on my own,” she stammered.

“Oh, really?” He cocked one dark brow. “How?”

It was one more thing she hadn't thought out. “Well, maybe not,” she muttered.

“If it will help, think of me as a male nurse,” he urged, straight-faced.

She really had no other choice, so she slipped her arms around his neck. When he scooped her up, the world seemed to spin, making her feel suddenly dizzy. She forgot to breathe. Her head was tucked under his chin, her cheek pressed so close against the warm skin of his throat that she could feel him swallow.

“Okay?” he asked as he settled her into his arms.

She loosened her hold around his neck so she wouldn't choke him. “I'm fine,” she croaked.

His scent was a mixture of outdoors, sunshine and the faintest hint of cologne. Her fingers seemed to have minds of their own, wanting to delve into the black hair at his nape as he headed for the trees.

A few minutes later, with her once again settled into his arms, they emerged from the descending gloom.

“Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's check out the accommodations,” he suggested, as if they were indeed staying at the Hilton, as he had called the shelter when they first passed it.

Already the temperature was dropping. Emma hadn't thought out the details of spending the night with nothing heavier than their thin jackets, and this
deep into the summer the forest was far too dry to risk a campfire.

Morgan shouldered open the door to the small rectangular structure. Fading light came through the single window. Emma was pleasantly surprised to see that the glass was intact.

Morgan crossed the wood floor and set her down on a built-in bench. Next to her was a pile of folded blankets. In one corner sat a small stove.

“There's wood outside next to the building, but we'll leave it for someone to use in the colder weather,” he said. “I'll shake out the bedding when I get back so we don't have to lie directly on the floor.”

Emma glanced at the worn blankets, wishing she had her sleeping bag instead.

He pulled out his flashlight and shone it into the corners while she listened hard for any sounds of escaping critters. She didn't hear anything.

“For a mountain retreat, it looks reasonably clean,” he said, switching off the light. “Someone must have stayed here recently. Even the floor's been swept.”

“I'm sure we'll be fine,” Emma agreed as she looked around. She'd prefer candles, music and goose down, but this would just have to do.

“I'll get the packs. We might as well finish off the apples and some of the water we've got left.” Morgan handed her the cold pack. “Elevate your ankle and put this on it.”

While he was gone, Emma studied her surroundings.

Maybe the shelter wasn't so bad, she thought. The walls and the door looked solid enough to keep a marauding bear from breaking in, and there was room on the floor for both of them to stretch out. She was encouraged that he thought they'd be warm enough without a fire.

When he appeared a few moments later with the packs, she assumed he'd taken a detour into the woods. He offered her an apple and one of the water bottles, but she didn't want to risk drinking any more liquid before dawn and she was too nervous to be hungry.

“No, thanks,” she said, setting aside the cold pack so the skin of her ankle wouldn't freeze.

“You'll feel better with something in your stomach.” Again he held out the apple and water.

“Okay.” She set aside the fruit, but she took a small sip of water and swished it around in her mouth before swallowing.

He carried the blankets and quilts outside to shake each of them vigorously. “These will make a decent sleeping pallet,” he said when he returned. He folded them back up and tossed them down. “I guess this turned out to be a bigger bite of the great outdoors than you planned on taking.”

Emma was determined not to complain. He wouldn't appreciate a whiner.

“It's an experience I'll remember,” she said,
injecting her voice with enthusiasm and smiling. “And the company is outstanding.”

“Thanks.” He removed her rolled-up jacket from her pack, shook it out and extended it to her. “Cold?”

She wadded the windbreaker back up and jammed it beside her. “Not yet, thanks.”

He sat down on the floor with his back resting against the wall facing her and took a healthy bite of the other apple. His lips were shiny with the juice, his jaw dark with beard stubble.

Fascinated, she watched him eat and tried to read him. Awareness spun out between them, like the web of a busy spider.

He tipped his head to the side, studying her, too. His eyes looked thoughtful and sexy as hell.

“Any tingling or numbness in your ankle or your foot?” he asked between big, juicy bites of apple. “I've got pills in my kit, if you want something for the pain.”

Tingling? Not in her foot, she thought, swallowing a bubble of wild laughter.

“I'll hold off on the meds,” she replied. “No tingling or numbness, except from the cold pack, and not much ache either, as long as I'm not dancing.”

She shook back her hair, wishing she had a brush and some makeup. But wouldn't that have looked suspicious? “Maybe I did just twist it, but I feel like such a klutz.”

He shrugged his wide shoulders, such a pleasant
surprise out of his well-tailored suit jacket. “It could have been worse.” He wiped away the last of the apple juice with the back of his hand and set aside the core. “We've got the shelter, it's not snowing and my cell worked,” he continued.

“Are you always such an optimist?” she couldn't resist asking. Until recently, she had looked on the bright side of life as though it was her due. Now she knew to reach out and grab what she wanted or be rolled over like a lump of asphalt.

“I try to be positive.” He settled back with one leg bent and his arm resting on his knee. “No one would blame you for feeling a little hammered after what you've been through. Are you coping okay?”

“Right now I'm happy not to be here alone.”

His grin faded and a muscle jumped in his cheek. “Me, too,” he finally admitted.

 

Smooth move, Davis,
Morgan thought as he fought the urge to slurp her up. What was he trying to do, make her nervous about spending the night in his company?

“Are you tired?” He could justify a comforting hug, but could he leave it at that if she welcomed his touch? Maybe not, so he stayed where he was.

“I'm wide-awake.” She shifted on the wooden seat. “Maybe I should stretch my leg out flat to keep the swelling down. What do you think?”

Morgan glanced around the tiny room. They'd be
awfully close to each other with her on the floor, but if it would help her ankle… “That's a good idea. You should sit down here.”

She held out her arms. “Would you mind?”

Reluctantly he got to his feet. “No problem.”

To give himself a moment, he fashioned a pallet on the floor with the folded blankets. When he could stall no longer, he reached down to her.

He was so close that he could have connected the freckles splashed across her nose or counted the individual lashes that framed her eyes. Her pupils were dark and dilated, the irises mere rings of silver.

If he had glimpsed a hint of caution on her upturned face, if he saw or heard or felt reluctance, his shaky control would have held.

“Morgan?”

He had no defense against the welcome in her voice when she whispered his name, or the stroke of her fingers along his jaw. Or the sigh of her breath touching his mouth.

The gentle puff of air might as well have been a match tossed into a brush pile. His good intentions, like dry leaves, went up in a hot lick of flames.

With a groan of surrender, he covered her mouth with his.

T
he instant that Morgan wrapped his arms around Emma and crushed his mouth to hers, she realized that she had underestimated the strength of the attraction between them—and gravely overestimated her ability to resist it.

The first kiss they shared was just the way she would have imagined the first hit of some drug to feel—a soaring, forbidden tangle of physical and emotional reactions, all of which she had been so confident she could handle. Even as she scrambled to keep from going under, she reached for more.

They grabbed at each other, hands busy, mouths open and eager. She rose up to meet him, plastering
her soft, yielding curves to the hard planes of male muscle. Chest to thigh, their bodies bumped, rubbed and meshed.

Instinctively she curled her injured leg around his calf in order to keep herself from putting weight on it and rising up to her toes. She locked her arms around his neck and hung on tight.

He froze, still as stone. His arousal nudged her, but he waited for some signal from her.

Boldly she traced the shape of his mouth with her tongue and then slipped it inside to taste and tease. His response was immediate and gratifying. A growl worked its way up his throat, his arms became steel bands and he shattered her buttoned-up image of him with another voracious kiss.

Blood roared in her ears like the crash of water pounding a rocky coast. Her hand caressed the rough promise of beard along his jaw. Her fingers circled his ears and plunged into the heavy silk of his hair.

He kissed her again and again. They broke contact for necessary gulps of air and mutual groans of pleasure. Her senses swam, her mind blurred. The bongo beat of her pulse echoed the hard thump of his heart against her breast.

Unlocking his lips from hers, he slid his hands down her sides to her waist, leaving a fiery trail. She resented the barrier of her clothing between his palms and her skin. His grip tightened as though he meant to set her away from him.

“Damn,” he growled, resting his forehead against hers, chest heaving for breath, “I forgot about your ankle. Have I hurt you?”

“No, no, it's okay.” Before the truth could spill from her lips, she crushed them to his open mouth. Desperately she poured herself into the kiss, her entire body straining toward him, melting into him.

When he finally lifted his head, she nearly cried out with disappointment. He bent down to slide one arm beneath her knees, the other across her back as he lifted her into his arms.

His narrowed gaze glittered like blue fire from the screen of impossibly thick lashes. His face was all taut hollows and angles, the skin flushed with passion. Between her own hungry gulps of air, she heard his rapid breathing.

“I didn't plan this,” he rasped. “My idea was to call you in a couple of weeks, to maybe see where dinner led us.”

Hearing his intention was a shock. He'd hidden his interest well. She strung kisses up his throat to his chin, ending with a quick nuzzle and a nip of his earlobe.

“Dinner would be nice,” she conceded against his neck. “This is nicer.”

“I'll stop. I can stop.” His laugh sounded as though he were being strangled, half gasp with a hiccup at the end. “It will probably kill me, but if I'm rushing you…”

“Let's not kill you,” she whispered in his ear. “Don't stop.”

She licked his bare throat, fascinated by his scent and taste. Senses humming, blood rushing, she sucked it all in greedily, unable to get enough of him.

He kissed her again, then broke it off abruptly. His body went rigid, back straight, head thrown back.

He swore softly. “I don't have anything with me,” he groaned.

“I do.” She had a story, too, in case he thought to ask, but he didn't.

Holding her tightly against his chest, he knelt on the floor. His mouth ran over her face, her chin, and down her throat. When he laid her on the blankets and stretched out beside her, she arched against him. Her arms were still looped around his neck, and her body was on fire.

Seducing him turned out to be remarkably easy. Somewhere between his husky murmur of approval when he lifted the hem of her shirt and the touch of his lips to her skin, her thinking blurred and her plan went up in flames like an arsonist's dream house.

This was no time for awkward questions. Not only had it been too long since she had inspired a man's hunger or fed her own, but Morgan's passion, entwined with hers, was too strong to resist. The attraction she felt for him since that first awful meeting engulfed her.

He stripped off her clothes while she fumbled with his. When she was bare of all but her panties,
he arranged her arms above her head and sat back on his heels. With a pirate's smile, he looked her over.

“You're ravishing.”

His chest was wide and smooth, the muscles defined and his nipples as dusky as two copper pennies. She could have looked at him for a few hours longer, but he came back down to her like a cat after cream.

They rolled and stroked, heedless of the blankets. Dimly she knew he was careful to shield her from the wood floor.

Learning as they went, they gave and took. He purred like a dark and dangerous panther when she stroked him, drank in her cries as she bucked beneath his hand. She thought she could take no more when he opened her thighs wide and settled there to fill her.

Racing, raging, lungs burning and bodies straining, they took each other. Together they spun out of control, shattering everything she thought she knew about passion.

 

Moonlight spilled through the window as Morgan turned carefully to look at Emma's face. Her eyes were closed, her lashes a contrast to the pale oval, her full mouth relaxed and still so tempting. His body betrayed him with a surging response he would have assumed before tonight to be impossible.

The two of them had followed up that first sweaty collision with a slower, though no less heated,
journey of mutual exploration. After a last shattering waltz that left them both weak with exhaustion, they had finally recovered enough strength to fumble back into their clothes before they'd curled together again.

She still slept while he mused over the fact that he, too, had dozed. He should have been outside in the cool, fresh air, cutting a sapling switch in order to whip himself bloody for his stupidity and lack of control.

What had he been thinking, to fall on her like a ravenous wolf when he should have been protecting her from
other
wolves. Not to mention bears and mountain lions.

Morgan wasn't a man used to looking backward. If Emma was willing, when they got back to town they would sort it out and go on from here. He certainly couldn't deny their compatibility, not after tonight.

One kiss and the monumental Davis control had melted away like paraffin.

At least from his point of view, they had more going on than basic garden-variety lust. She was spunky and genuine, a real survivor struggling with a basket full of issues that might have flattened someone else.

She hadn't even complained about her ankle, for God's sake.

She stirred and he peered down at the luminous
dial of his watch. There was plenty of time to explore that more-than-basic-lust issue again, since she had come more prepared than he.

“Are you awake?” he asked softly.

“Mmm-hmm.” Her hand slid beneath the shirt he'd put back on when the air chilled. “Here I thought I just dreamed you.”

His stomach muscles clenched in response to her touch, and the blood from his head went south in a rush. If he had bet anything tangible on his ability to better resist the sweet temptation she offered, he would have lost.

 

Through the window, Emma had watched the dark sky over the mountains gradually lighten. Now she sat facing Morgan with her legs crossed while he finished drinking his share of their water.

“How can you look so good after last night?” he asked as he leaned forward to kiss her nose.

“Are you saying that I appear smug?” she teased. “Or just supremely satiated?”

She'd been right. Despite his normal veneer of sophistication, her comment brought a flush to his face. Between the dusky color of his cheeks and the whiskers sprouting along his jaw, he bore little resemblance to Director Davis. More than just his appearance had changed.

Since they had first set off on this hike, everything between them was different. The realization was
enough to wipe away Emma's smile and to pull tight the knot forming in her stomach.

She had to be honest with him, but she had no clue how he'd react beyond his initial anger over being deceived. It was nearly impossible now for her to recall the mindset that had actually believed her idea to be a good one.

“I need to tell you something, but I don't know where to start.”

His comment caught her by surprise, distracting her from the statement she'd carefully prepared. His voice lacked its usual conviction, and his expression was grim, but his gaze was level and steady on hers.

Was he about to give her the kiss-off speech? It would certainly save her the trouble of trying to justify her actions.

“I was irresponsible.” He brushed her chin lightly with his thumb, then dropped his hands to his lap. “Thank goodness you were prepared, because I certainly wasn't. I'm not used to being blindsided, but I want you to know that as far as I'm concerned, the only thing wrong with last night was the timing.”

He bent his head to kiss the back of her hand.

“What do you mean?” So far it sure didn't sound as though he was going to ditch her. Quite the contrary.

“Believe me, honey. Jumping you in the woods wasn't part of my game plan,” he said, color still staining his cheekbones. “How do you feel about going back and starting over, once we get home? We
could begin with dinner somewhere, like a normal couple, and see where it goes.”

Starting over meant a clean slate, she told herself silently. He was a fair person and he would appreciate her honesty.

“It's kind of strange, considering the way we first met,” she said, “because I've never clicked with anyone else as strongly as I have with you on so many levels. I'd like to keep seeing you, too. But first I have a confession that could change your mind.”

“You're an ex-con?” he asked, brows arched.

“What? No, oh, no.”

“Still married? Carrying a torch?”

She curled her lip. “For that jerk? No way.”

He frowned. “Involved with someone else?”

She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Health problems?” His voice became edged with concern. “Something I should know about?”

“Just what you already know,” she admitted.

His expression relaxed. “Bad credit?” he teased.

“Well, not as good as it used to be, but I haven't had to file for bankruptcy yet.” She bet his credit was gold-plated, his FICO score off the charts. “I'll be okay once I find a real job.”

Smiling, Morgan tapped his chest with one finger. “I can't think of anything else you could say that would make a difference, so go ahead. Hit me with your best shot.”

His confidence gave her strength. “My ankle is fine.”

His face cleared and he glanced down at her leg. “That's terrific. When did you walk on it? I didn't think I fell asleep, but I must have.” He started to unfold his long legs. “Come on. Let's see if you can walk.”

“You don't understand.” Emma grabbed his hands and held on tightly. Now that she'd started, she wanted to get everything out before she lost her nerve. “There's nothing wrong with my ankle. I didn't injure it.”

His grip went slack. “You didn't hurt it?” His forehead was pleated by a frown of puzzlement as he studied her foot as if it would explain. “Emma, I don't get it. What are you saying?”

She gulped, cheeks burning. “I had this crazy idea of seducing you,” she confessed in a rush. “I thought if I could get you up here alone, if we spent more time together, that I could—I don't know—worm the truth about my birth parents from you, I guess.” She swallowed. “Somehow. It wasn't a well-thought-out scheme. The details were fuzzy.”

How stupid it all sounded when she talked about it!

His frown had smoothed out, so that his face looked a little stiff. Twin spots of red marked those chiseled cheekbones and his eyes had turned as hard as chips of cold blue diamond.

She pitied any employee who had screwed up and had to face him.

“Um, I didn't go through with it.” Realizing she was babbling, she fumbled and waved her hand helplessly. “I mean, obviously we slept together, but it wasn't because I'd planned it.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated with herself. “I'd changed my mind, but I didn't know what to do about my ankle.” Mired deeper and deeper, she ducked her head. “It was wrong and I'm really, really sorry.”

“You planned to seduce me?” As he spoke, he shook off the touch of her hands, like someone shaking mud from his fingers.

“Well, it started out that way.” She tried out a rueful smile, but he didn't respond. “You were so sweet, and so patient. I knew I couldn't go through with it,” she repeated. “Then you kissed me. It was way better than I'd imagined. Everything flowed from that.”

“Back up a minute.” He shook his head. “Are you saying that you lied about hurting your ankle and that you planned to keep me up here overnight? To sleep with me?”

The ice in his eyes had thawed, turning to twin blue flames. Hadn't she read that blue was the hottest fire? Or was that white? No matter.

“I changed my mind.”

“You lied to me.” His tone was flat, emotionless.

“Only at the start,” she exclaimed. “Like I said, right after that I decided—”

He held up his hand to silence her. “Not another word.”

The muscles of his jaw were bunched as he grabbed his boots and shoved his feet into them. He tied the laces with jerky movements, while she waited for him to say something else.