Amanda Ashley (11 page)

Her gaze flew back to Alex's face. He was still sleeping. It wasn't right for a man to be so beautiful, she thought. His lips were full and perfect. His nose was straight. His lashes were thick and dark. His skin was an even brown, as though he spent a great deal of time in the sun, yet she had never seen him in daylight. . . .

He couldn't be a vampire! It was ludicrous to even think such a thing. He was, however, very much a man. A very attractive and desirable man. The thought of being in bed with him when he woke up was something she didn't even want to consider.

Moving as carefully as possible, she eased over to her side of the mattress and sat up. Looking at her watch, she saw that it was almost four. She'd never slept so late in her life.

Grabbing her clothes from the chair, she went into the bathroom to take a shower.

Alex groaned softly as the bathroom door closed behind Kara. He had slept at her side through what had been left of the night and all day long, aware of every move she made. Several times, she had brushed against him; once, she had cuddled up to him. Not even the fact that he had slept in his jeans had kept his body from reacting to her nearness, to the brush of her thigh against his leg, the touch of her hand on his bare chest.

He had not been with a woman he cared for in more years than he cared to recall, and the need that had surged through him had been excruciating. It was not common for those of his kind to go so long without sexual gratification. Kara's nearness, added to the fact that he was becoming increasingly fond of her, had fueled his desire. The
fact that she was beautiful, inside and out, and less than a breath away, had been sheer torture. A torment he could have easily escaped by sleeping on the chair, or on the floor, yet he had been powerless to resist the opportunity to be near her.

He felt his desire spring to life anew when he heard the shower. The thoughts and images running rampant through his mind shamed him, yet he could not help but imagine how she looked standing under the water. . . .

With an oath, he threw the covers aside and got out of bed. There was a carafe of hot water and some packets of instant coffee on the table in front of the window and he quickly made a cup, then drank it down, cursing softly as the hot liquid burned his tongue. Served him right, he thought irritably.

Pulling back the heavy curtains, he glanced outside. The sky was heavily overcast and promised rain before the day was out. He was standing at the window, staring out into the parking lot, when he heard the bathroom door open. Taking a deep breath, he counted to ten, then turned around.

“I'm sorry,” Kara said, “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't. There's coffee on the table.”

Kara nodded, wondering why he seemed so tense.

“I'm going to take a shower, then we'll go. We'll get something to eat on the road.”

“All right.” She went to fix herself a cup of coffee, acutely conscious of Alex moving about behind her as he pulled clean clothes from the duffel bag he had packed the night before.

She heard the bathroom door shut, and she let
out the breath she'd been holding.

It was close to six that evening when they left the motel. The tension between them seemed to grow as the night went on. After they left the motel, they had stopped at a roadside restaurant for dinner, and again at a strip mall so she could buy some clothes.

Since she had no money with her and didn't want to be indebted to Alex for more than was absolutely necessary, Kara had selected only a few essential items, but Alex had insisted she buy several dresses, as well as slacks and sweaters, shoes, socks, a nightgown, robe and slippers, as well as toiletries. She had promised to pay him back, but he had dismissed her offer with a wave of his hand.

“I don't need your money, Kara,” he had said quietly.

The words
What do you need?
had risen in her throat, but she had choked them back, afraid of what his answer might be.

Kara stared out the window, watching the lights of the city grow faint as Alex drove the Porsche up the narrow mountain road.

“When do you think I can go back home?” she asked after a lengthy silence.

“When I think it's safe.”

“When will that be?”

“I don't know, Kara. I'm sorry.”

Kara chewed on her lower lip, wondering how he'd know when it was “safe.” Tall pines lined the winding road as they climbed upward. They had been traveling all night, stopping only to buy gas or to get something to eat, although Alex ate very little. Their last stop had been at a grocery store, where Alexander had bought several blocks of ice and an ice chest, along with enough food to supply a small
army. Soon, they would arrive at his place. And then what?

She was all too conscious of the physical attraction that hummed between them, vital, irrefutable, almost tangible. How could they live in the same house day after day without . . . A wave of heat flooded her cheeks at the thought of being in his arms, in his bed. How could she feel this way about a man she hardly knew?

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she woke with a start when the car came to a stop. Disoriented, she sat up and looked around.

“It's all right, Kara,” Alexander said. “We're here.”

Here proved to be on top of a mountain. “But . . .” Kara frowned at Alexander. “Where's the house?”

“It isn't a house, exactly.”

“What is it then, exactly? A cave?”

A faint smile curved his lips. “In a manner of speaking.”

Without further explanation, he got out of the car and removed two of the cardboard boxes from the trunk.

With a sigh, Kara reached into the back seat. Grabbing the packages that contained her new clothes, she slid out of the car and followed Alexander along a short dirt path that led to what looked like a dead end. Her heart seemed to jump into her throat as she peered over the narrow ledge. One misstep would send her plummeting a thousand feet into the valley below.

She moved closer to Alexander, watching in silent fascination as he placed his hand over an oddly shaped striation in the rock face. There was a low rumble, and then, to Kara's astonishment, a portion
of the rock slid back, revealing a large cavern hewn out of the mountain.

Shades of
Star Trek
and
Indiana Jones,
Kara thought. She stood at the entrance for a moment, then followed Alexander into the dark maw.

She saw the movement of his hand. The mountain closed behind them. Light flooded the antechamber.

Kara blinked as she glanced around. The walls of the cavern were fashioned of smooth white stone. She looked up at the ceiling, but could not detect the source of the light.

“Coming?”

Kara glanced at Alexander, who was watching her carefully. “You are going to explain all this, aren't you?”

“Later.”

“Later? I don't think so.” She dropped her packages on the floor—on the ground, actually—and stared at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

Alexander moved down the narrow passageway. “I'm going to put this stuff away, then go back and get the rest,” he said. “Your room is the first door on the left at the end of this passage.”

“Infernal man,” Kara muttered.

Retrieving her packages, she made her way down the corridor. She passed a dark room on her right—the living room, perhaps? Another few steps took her to the first door on the left. There was no knob, no lock. With a grimace, she stared at the blank wooden door; then, remembering how Alex had opened the portal to the cavern, she placed her hand against the wood. The entrance slid open, and after a moment's hesitation, she stepped inside.

It was a small, oval-shaped room. There was a
double bed topped with a dark blue quilt, an elegant three-drawer dresser made of antique oak, an oil lamp fashioned of brass with a delicate glass chimney, and a beautiful Navajo rug woven in muted shades of blue and green. Nothing else. A small round window made of thick glass overlooked the valley below.

She crossed the floor and touched the window, wondering how he had managed to put a window in the side of a mountain. The glass felt odd, hard and soft at the same time.

Frowning, she turned to regard the room again. It was spartan, she thought, but what furnishings the room contained were exquisite.

It took only a few minutes to unpack, and then she went to look for Alexander, determined to find the answers to the questions tumbling through her mind.

The room across from hers appeared to be the kitchen. It held a small, square table, a single chair, a Coleman stove, several ice chests, and a small sink. Where, she wondered, did the water come from, and where did it go?

She tapped her finger on the counter. The water probably came from a spring. As for where it went . . . she stooped and opened the door under the sink. A pipe ran from the sink into a hole cut in the floor. Rising, she grunted softly. No doubt the water drained directly into the mountain. There were several shelves cut into the rock wall, which held a few cups and plates and some pots and pans.

Two steps carved from stone led down into a large sunken room. There was a fireplace in one corner. The vent went through the rock ceiling. Clever, she mused. No doubt it reappeared on top
of the mountain where any telltale smoke would be diffused by the trees. A large oil lamp sat on a smooth-topped tree stump beside an oversized black leather sofa. Soft yellow light from the lamp filled the room.

There was a large oak bookcase along one wall. Every shelf was filled with books. What looked to be a bearskin was spread in front of the fireplace. A small round window offered a view similar to that in the bedroom.

Kara shook her head. Mountains that moved. Windows cut into solid rock. Glass that felt hard and soft at the same time. What next?

“Alexander?”

She stepped into the corridor and headed toward what she hoped was the entrance, only to meet Alexander coming toward her, the last of the groceries cradled in his arms.

“Here,” she said, reaching for one of the cartons. “Let me help.”

Her fingers brushed his as he handed her one of the boxes, and she felt a frisson of heat shoot up her arm. He felt it, too—she knew it by the sudden awareness that flickered in his eyes. Face to face, neither speaking, they regarded each other for a long moment before Alexander stepped past her, headed for the kitchen.

They spent the next twenty minutes putting the groceries away. When the last can had been put on the shelf, Kara turned to face Alexander.

“It's later,” she said.

Alexander sighed. “It's quite simple, really,” he said. “I own the mountain. I built this place as a sort of retreat.”

“Retreat? From what? World War Three?”

“Why not?”

Kara shook her head. “I don't buy it, Alex. Not for a minute.”

“Believe me or not, Kara, it's your choice. But the truth is, I do own this mountain, and I did build this place.”

Incredibly, she did believe him. She also knew he wasn't telling her the whole truth. “How does one install windows in a mountain? And what about that glass?”

“What about it?”

“I don't know, it feels . . . funny. And the light in the entrance to this place. Where does it come from?”

Alexander ran a hand through his hair. She was too smart, too curious, for her own good. And his.

Kara tapped her foot on the floor. “I'm still waiting for those answers.”

“Modern technology, Kara. It's as simple as that. The glass is made to withstand stress. The light is recessed.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and he knew she was considering his answers. “So, what do we do now?”

“Stay put, for a while at least. We've got enough food to last several weeks. There's plenty of water. Wood for a fire.”

“Heat, food, and shelter,” Kara said with a faint grin. “All that primal man needed to survive.”

“It has served me well in the past.”

She lifted one finely arched brow. “Is there a . . . a rest room?”

“A small one. It's the last door at the end of the passage. There's no bathtub or shower, I'm afraid. When you wish to wash, you can do so in the sink,
or you can bathe in the hot spring located a short distance from here.”

Kara sighed. She had never liked camping, and even though this wasn't a tent outdoors, it was still far too rustic for her taste.

“I'm sorry,” Alexander said, observing her obvious dismay. “Hopefully, we won't have to stay here too long.”

“Hopefully.”

“It's late,” he said. “You must be tired.”

“Yes.” She folded her arms, suddenly very much aware that she was alone in a cave with a man she hardly knew, a man whose dark eyes smoldered with desire. A man who was far too tempting for her peace of mind.

Drawing her gaze from his, she wished him a good night and went to her room. Inside, she took several deep breaths. She had to accept the fact that she might be here for several days; weeks, perhaps. She couldn't contact Gail or Nana. She'd surely lose her job.

Standing there, it was hard to believe anyone wanted to do her harm. Easier to believe that Alexander had kidnapped her and brought her to this strange place for his own ends. She waited for some sense of fear, of terror, but none came. Instead, a creeping warmth spread through her as she thought of spending her days and nights here, alone, with Alexander Claybourne.

She remembered the nights he had met her in her grandmother's backyard. His kisses had been more potent than her grandfather's Irish whiskey, his voice husky with suppressed longing. The attraction that had sizzled between them had been dampened by Dale Barrett's attempt to hospitalize
her, but it hadn't dissipated, not completely. It was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

Her stomach fluttered as she undressed, then slipped into the floor-length baby-blue nightgown Alexander had bought her. She smoothed her hands over the silky material, wondering what he would think if she went to his room and slid under the covers beside him.