Gingerbread Man (19 page)

She stared at him, and she knew her eyes
widened but she couldn't help it.

"It's okay," he said. "You can trust me. I'm
a cop." He smiled as he said it, making the words teasing and
sweet, somehow. She lay down as he told her, and he curled up
beside her, turning her so her back was pressed to his chest. He
pulled mounds of leaves and debris around them and over them, and
then put his arms around her.

Miraculously, she began to feel warmth
seeping into her, chasing away the chill. Within ten minutes she'd
stopped shivering. "Where did you learn this kind of stuff?" she
asked.

"I was a Boy Scout," he said. And she
couldn't tell if he was kidding or not.

He wasn't trembling as much as before,
either, though she had a feeling she was getting the lion's share
of the body heat. His back couldn't be very well covered. She
sighed in contentment and snuggled closer.

"Hey, Red?"

"Mmm?"

"Might not be a good idea to, uh ... push
back against me quite so ... much."

She froze, and knew she'd been wriggling her
backside against his groin…and he was responding the way most men
would. She could feel him. The blood rushed to her face, but she
only pulled away slightly. "Sorry."

"Me, too."

"Not your fault."

His whiskered chin moved against her bare
shoulder, and she shivered anew, but not from the cold this time.
"Take it as a compliment and forget about it," he suggested.

"Compliment? I'm not that innocent. You're
male. You'd react that way to anyone in this ... situation."

"No, actually, I wouldn't."

She lay there, blinking and wondering just
what the hell that meant. She said, "Oh." He didn't say anything.
She waited, but he didn't elaborate. Finally, she had to break the
silence, because just lying there against him, in his arms, feeling
his breath on the back of her neck, was too much to bear in the
silence. "Do you think our clothes are dry yet?"

"It's only been twenty minutes."

"Yes, but with the way the wind's blowing ...
?" She rolled onto her back as she said it, which made her hip rub
against his groin. When she looked up at him, he was biting his
lip.

"Will you lie still?"

She did lie still. For what must have been a
half hour, she remained perfectly still, lying there against him.
He was lying on his side, his face close enough for her to feel his
breath on her skin. She wanted to kiss him. He must want the same
thing, she reasoned. He'd been about to kiss her in the boat,
before they capsized. She lay there thinking about it for about as
long as she could stand to before she turned her face to the side,
toward his.

"Don't, Holly," he said very softly.

"Don't what?"

"I can feel what you're thinking. I told you
already, it's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

He didn't answer her, so she rolled again,
onto her side, facing him this time, and she pressed her mouth to
his mouth. His lips were stiff and unresponsive. She slid her arms
around his waist and pulled her body closer to his. Then she nipped
his bottom lip with her teeth, suckled it just a little, and slid
her tongue along the inner edge of his lips.

He shook a little, and his arms closed around
her hard and fast. Finally he kissed her back. He kissed her like
she'd never dreamed of being kissed. He pinned her down with his
weight and drove his tongue deep into her mouth. He wedged his knee
between her legs and urged them apart, so his hips could lower to
her pelvis, and he could press his erection hard against her. And
just when she started to feel the stirrings of panic joining the
arousal in her belly, he rolled away and sat up, his back to her.
The leaves fell away from him, and she shivered in the gust of
cold.

"Don't play with me, Red."

Breathless, she said, "What makes you think I
was playing?"

She couldn't see his face, and she thought he
wanted it that way. She couldn't read what was in his eyes, but she
thought she knew. He was trying to overwhelm her. To scare her
off.

"What is it you want from me, Holly? Hmm? A
meaningless fuck in the woods? Cause I can give you that. Hell. I'd
be more than happy to give you that." He glanced over his shoulder
at her. "I'd be
goddamned
more than happy to give you that.
But that's all it would be. Is that what you want from me? Is it?"
His eyes were blazing.

She bit her lip. "I... I don't know."

"You don't know? Well if you don't know what
you want, I'd suggest you not tease me again until you do. All
right?"

"Tease? Tease, is that what you think—?"

"Your shirt's dry." He surged to his feet,
grabbed her white button-down off the tree and, turning, held it
out to her.

She rose to her feet, and his eyes devoured
every inch of her. She didn't flinch or try to hide herself. She
just reached out and took the shirt from him, then pulled it on.
His shorts bulged. While she buttoned up, he turned away, snagged
his own shirt off the tree, and put it on. Their jeans were still
damp.

"I do know what I want," she said. "I want to
make love to you."

He swore and tried not to look at her.

"I want to spend the night in your arms, and
I want... to see inside you. The way you've seen inside me."

He shook his head.

"I want to know why you're so afraid of
me."

He turned to face her. "You're flattering
yourself, Holly." Then he pulled his damp jeans on. "Why are you so
damned determined to dig into my psyche, woman? What the hell is it
with you, anyway? You can't accept that I simply do not want
this?"

She shrugged, pulling on her own jeans and
wincing at the cold touch of the wet denim on her skin. "You're
determined to dig into mine. It only seems fair. And as for what
you want, well, your body is more honest about that than you
are."

He stared at her for a long moment, then he
shook his head, grabbed hold of her hand, and started off through
the woods again.

***

HE KEPT UP a brisk pace as they walked
through the skeletal forest. Their jackets hadn't dried much at
all, and they'd decided to leave them behind. Wearing them, as wet
as they were, would only make them colder. Vince wasn't walking
with his arm around Holly anymore. She kept a distance of at least
two feet between them at all times, and he was angry at himself for
his behavior. His reaction to her had taken him by surprise. He
hadn't expected passion to swell up—red hot and urgent—so suddenly.
And even then, he should have been able to handle it. Would have.
But other feelings came with it. Protective feelings. That urge to
cuddle and coddle and care for another human being. The one he'd
made up his mind was bad for him.

To feel it for a woman he also wanted
sexually was another shock. He'd been so disconnected from that
part of himself for so long that the overwhelming heat of it left
him bewildered.

Oh, sure, he had sex. When he felt the urge,
he'd go out and find someone willing. But he was always completely
in control. The act was always cold, calculated, thought out, and
planned for. He never lost himself the way he had with Holly. And
he never had sex with a woman who could need him the way she
could.

Which was why it had been perfectly rational
for him to think he could curl up with her in the leaves, mostly
naked, and do nothing but keep her warm. And which was why he'd
blown up at her when his body had almost overwhelmed his mind. He
wasn't furious with her, but with himself. And if he thought to
scare her off by coming on like a caveman back there, he supposed
he'd been wrong yet again. She'd seen right through it.

Damn, where had so much longing come
from?

Now she was offended. No wonder. She'd been
assaulted, insulted, and rejected all in one brief interlude. Not
to mention bashed on the head, nearly drowned, and half frozen. He
was a real asshole, and he knew it.

They'd been hiking again for almost an hour,
without exchanging a word. She wouldn't even look at him. She
stomped through the decaying leaves on the ground with her arms
folded across her chest, and her shoulders hunched.

"I'm sorry," he said. He had to force the
words out. Apologizing was not something he enjoyed doing, nor was
it something he did often. Almost never, in fact. Of course, she
had no way of knowing that.

"You're right, you are. But I suspect you're
only saying that so I won't call your department and turn your ass
in out of vengeance."

"No. I'm saying it because I acted like a
jerk back there."

She slid her eyes toward him but the minute
her gaze touched his, she jerked it back again. "Whatever."

He drew an impatient breath, blew it out
again.

"I'm not a tease," she said.

"I know you're not."

"No you don't. You don't know me at all. But
for the record, I meant it when I said I wanted you. And I'm not
ashamed to admit that. And if anyone was acting like a tease back
there, you really ought to know that it was you."

That brought him up short. He stopped
walking, and stared at her. "Me?"

She stared right back. "Yes, you. For crying
out loud, O'Mally, you strip us both down, make a bed in the
leaves, and then you hold me so close I can't breathe without
tasting you—what was I supposed to think?"

He couldn't even hold her gaze. "I was just
trying to keep you warm."

"Right. And that was a nightstick prodding my
backside?'

He gaped.

“I’m not a tease, O'Mally, but I am human.
I'm a woman, and, for the record, I think there's something here.
Something that might
be
something, you know? But you're so
damned stubborn I'm not sure how we'll ever find out"

"I... sorry."

"I thought you wanted me, too," she said. I
mean, you gave every indication."

The words
I
did
—or more
accurately,
I
do
—would have tumbled from his lips if
he hadn't pressed them together hard. "Look, I told you, I don't do
relationships, okay? I don't have that kind of staying power."

"Don't worry. I got the message."

Hell. He did not need complications like
this, like her, not now. He wasn't sure if it would be better to
seduce her or ignore her. Either way, things were getting muddied
up and it wasn't going to do his investigation one damned bit of
good.

A twig snapped off to the left, and his
thoughts ground to a halt. He jerked his head around, scanning the
trees in vain. He didn't have a gun, dammit. It was at the bottom
of the lake somewhere.

"What the hell was that?" Holly whispered.
She, too, had gone still and was searching the darkness,
wide-eyed.

He examined the trees, seeing nothing. Shades
of gray and brown and rust. "Deer?” he asked.

"Not unless it was wearing army boots."

He kept looking, narrowing his eyes. “I don't
see anything." Then he focused on her again, saw her anger gone
now, replaced by fear. Of the two he liked the anger better. He
took her arm. "Let's get out of here." Then he looked up at the
sky, completely obliterated now by thick clouds. The thunder was
still rumbling, but it was no longer distant. It was loud, and
intense. "I think the storm's held off about as long as it's going
to."

"I think you're right."

They picked up the pace, and he held on to
her. Kept her close to his side, tried to keep her warm. She didn't
pull away, but he wasn't sure if that was because she'd forgiven
him or because she needed his body heat. Every now and then he drew
her to a stop, and listened for a moment. There was something—some
sound—every time, but damned if he could distinguish the creak of a
limb in the wind from the hurried footsteps of a squirrel. It all
sounded alike to him. Rustling leaves and snapping twigs.

They walked on. They were both getting colder
with every yard they trekked. If they didn't find shelter soon, he
wasn't sure they'd make it.

"I felt a r-r-raindrop," Holly said
unnecessarily.

He glanced down at her. Her lips were pale
and she was shivering again. He didn't have a clue where the hell
they were. They'd topped a small hill, and he looked around, then
looked harder at what seemed to be lights coming from the top of a
bigger hill just ahead. And then he realized he was seeing that
crazy old actor's house, its windows alight.

"There," he said, pointing. "Come on, we'll
go there."

She glanced up, following his gaze to the
hulking mansion, which seemed to list slightly to one side.
"Reggie's place," she said. "F-f-finally. God, I hope he d-doesn't
mind. N-n-no one goes to his p-place uninvited."

"Tough."

"B-but—" She turned toward him as she spoke,
and then she just flew backward. The wet ground beneath her feet
crumbled, and she fell, hit the sloping hillside, and tumbled all
the way to the bottom.

"Jesus! Red!" Vince ran, stumbling, after
her. She lay still at the bottom, and he dropped to his knees and
pulled her into his arms. "Holly? C'mon, talk to me." The rain was
falling harder now. As if they needed more problems.

Lightning crashed and the wind blew even
harder.

She opened her eyes slowly. They were
unfocused. Her lips barely moving, her voice barely audible, she
whispered, “I’m... ok-k-kay."

"No, you're not." Dammit, she'd hit her head
again. It was bleeding. And her voice was slurred. He should have
been holding on to her more tightly when they stopped at the
hilltop. With a surge of guilt, he scooped her up, and carried her
up the steep incline toward the isolated house of the eccentric
hermit, which was farther away now than it had been before. And the
storm cut loose with all its fury.