Storm the Author's Cut (10 page)

Her arms were around his neck, her breast crushed to his chest. He bent to touch his lips to her eyes, her mouth. "You feel so good," he whispered.

When he laid her on the sleeping bag, he leaned over her, watching the play of flames on her body.

"Magic." He bent to kiss the tip of each breast gently. "You're magic." He drew his fingers gently along the side of her neck, then down, caressing her breast so that it ached for his touch, down again along her hip and her thigh. His touch drugged her with pleasure and she reached up, needing the sensation of his skin against her hands.

He trapped her hands at her sides. As his tongue parted her lips to explore within, she arched against him, needing his touch. He released her lips and moved to nibble gently on her earlobe.

"I'm going to love you," he told her, "until you need me as badly as I need you." His breath touched her ear and she shuddered, needing him.

He kissed her again, his hands forming her aching breasts, rubbing gently on the aroused nipples. With his hands and his mouth he made love to every part of her body until she was groaning his name, aching with need of him. She pulled her hands from his and touched him, caressing him, loving him so that he could not wait any longer.

"Now," she begged, urging his body to hers.

He moved to her. When they were closer than two people had ever been, she cried out his name and he held her as if he would never let her go.

In the aftermath of their passion, she moved her hand through his hair. His face was smooth and sensual, without the hard lines she had seen in the daylight. When he turned, she pressed against his chest.

He touched her face, tracing it gently.

"I'm sleepy now," she murmured.

"Then sleep," he whispered.

She curled against him and closed her eyes.

Was it a dream, when he told her that he loved her?

Chapter 7

At first, the light on her face disturbed her sleep. She turned to burrow her face into a pillow, not willing to wake.

Then she remembered.

She was alone in the cabin, thank God.

She got up nervously. She found her underwear near the kitchen stove, hanging over the chair with her jeans. The jeans were dry and she dressed quickly. Even her sweater was dry. She pulled it on, feeling the need for every bit of covering she could find. Any minute, Luke would come through that door.

Gone was the wild creature that had possessed her last night. She had done something terrible, betrayed the man she loved, the man she had promised to marry. Somehow, she would have to make that right with Ken. She didn't know how she was going to face him. But worse than that, she had no idea what she would say to Luke when he walked through that door.

What could she say?

Let's forget last night, pretend it didn't happen?

She remembered the storm... the night... Luke's body on hers. Luke touching her, caressing her. Not only Luke. Herself, hiding from memories, touching, enjoying.

Last night, she had not been able to imagine tomorrow.

She had woken on the floor; one sleeping bag under her, another on top. She could remember his arms around her in the night. Somehow, the knowledge that he'd slept with her made it even worse. There was a terrible intimacy in the thought of her body curled in his arms while they slept.

She moved quickly to the bags spread on the floor, rolling them up, stowing them beside the pack near the door. The kettle was almost boiling so she got out tea and the teapot. When the door opened, she had her back to it but she turned quickly to face him.

He looked different this morning, and she heard a... tenderness in his voice when he said, "Did you wonder where I'd got to? I woke up early and went to check the plane. You looked so peaceful I didn't wake you. Did you sleep well?" He smiled, moving towards her, a look on his face that she remembered from the flickering firelight last night.

"Yes—no!" She couldn't let him touch her. "Last night I—I don't know what happened."

"Don't you?" The smile was in his voice, too. "I have some very clear memories, myself."

Her face flamed at his words. "It should never have happened. I'm sorry, I..."

The tenderness drained from his face, leaving his eyes dark and inscrutable.

The wind outside was only a whisper. The storm that had sealed them off from the world was now a mere echo.

She would have liked to look away from his cold eyes, but she held his gaze and said, "I'm engaged to be married."

He turned away and walked to the stove. He picked up the kettle before he spoke. "I didn't notice you wearing a ring."

She looked down at her bare fingers spread out tensely against the denim of her jeans. "You don't need a ring to be engaged."

"You didn't want a ring?"

"We're saving for a house. A ring would be a waste of money."

"Or maybe it would cramp your style?"

"No. That's not..." Look what she had done after only a few hours with Luke. "I've never—Last night was different."

He strode to the sink and tossed the liquid in his cup away down the sink. "Save your explanations for the man who's got a right to them. He might not be too happy about your spending the night with me."

He set the kettle down with a thud. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

"Do you want breakfast? I found more tins. Shouldn't we eat before we go?"

"We can eat in town." He moved to her and she stepped back. "Or do you want to go to bed again before we leave?"

"Please, don't. I promise you, I've never done that before. I never meant last night to happen!"

"Practicing your story for the boyfriend? Trapped on an island, the brute pilot took advantage of you?"

She had tossed her bra to him, deliberately inflamed him, wanted—no,
needed
him to come to her.

"I know what I did," she whispered. "Don't think I'm blaming you. I'm sorry if I deceived you, Luke. I'll pay for it, because I don't know how I'm going to tell Ken. I don't know what I can tell him."

"Then tell him nothing. I'm not about to spread the story. Now stop agonizing and let's get out of here!"

"Should we leave money for the food we ate?"

"I'll settle up with the Band Council Office in Skidegate village."

This was not going well. Luke wouldn't tell, but this wasn't a secret she could keep from the man she intended to marry.

She used the hot water left in the kettle to clean up their few dishes. It took hardly any time to have the cabin spotless.

The path to the beach led away from the hot springs, but she could see the steam rising through the trees from the nearby springs. She picked her way carefully down the path. She didn't want to sprain an ankle and have to call Luke for help. To be carried in his arms could be close to unbearable this morning.

She had to kill those memories.

The sky was bright, although cloudy. The wind twisted the trees south of her, but she could see that the water was much smoother than it had been when they landed. There were only a few whitecaps on the ocean, and hardly a wave in the little bay where the Beaver waited.

The tide was close to high. Luke had floated the Beaver and was standing in the water, keeping the plane clear of the rocks while he waited for her.

"Get in."

She scrambled on to the pontoon, then up into the cabin of the plane. Luke pushed the plane away from the beach, standing on a pontoon using a paddle to move them into deeper water.

Today he didn't offer her the co-pilot's headset. Good. She didn't want the intimacy of the radio and intercom. It might be more than she could handle to hear his voice speak softly into her ear as they flew.

So she sat mutely in the noisy cabin, flying north, Luke at her side. She told herself she had more important things to think about than her broad-shouldered pilot, but she thought of little else.

In less than an hour they were circling over the harbor at Queen Charlotte City, then down on the water smooth and fast. When they docked, Barry Stinson grabbed the pontoon and started lashing it to the float. He smiled at her and somehow she managed to smile back. She climbed out, surprisingly stiff after only an hour in the front cabin of the Beaver.

Luke unloaded, handing things to Barry. She hesitated, standing on the wharf, watching them. What could she say to him?

Too much had been said already. She picked up her pack where he'd put it on the dock, and then walked away without speaking.

It didn't seem right that her car should be waiting in the parking lot at the top of the ramp. Was it only yesterday morning that she had parked it there? It seemed a world ago.

Inside the car, she started the engine and drove—not home where the Ken and his family would be waiting for explanations, but uphill to the Sunday-morning-deserted radio station.

She locked the door behind herself and walked quietly through the deserted building, past the studio where the radio automation software played, one by one, the tracks Harry had programmed Friday afternoon. She put on a pot of coffee in the staff room and stood watching the dark liquid drip slowly into the glass pot.

Someone would see her car outside the station and the news that she was back would spread to the McDonalds at the speed of light. Better to make contact before they heard.

Mrs. McDonald answered on the second ring.

"Mrs. McDonald, it's Laurie. I just got in and—"

"Where are you? We've been so worried. "

"I—We couldn't get back last night. The storm. I'm sorry you worried."

"Well, I did. Nat Howard called and explained it all to me. He said there you were staying over at the logging camp until the weather got better. It was very considerate of him to call."

Laurie received the silent message that she herself had been very inconsiderate. She didn't correct Mrs. McDonald about the logging camp.

"I'm sorry."

"Where are you now?"

"At the station writing up the rescue for the news. I'll be home as soon as I can."

"I didn't know whether to plan for you for lunch or not, Laurie, so I don't know—"

"Don't worry about lunch. I'm not hungry."

The older woman sniffed loudly over the telephone. "Of course I'll worry. I don't know what Ken will think. He's gone down to the seaplane docks."

Hopefully Luke and Barry would be finished and have gone home by the time Ken arrived. The conversation with Mrs. McDonald had succeeded in making Laurie feel like a misbehaving child but it was only the beginning. She would feel worse when she saw Ken.

She hadn't long to wait. She had just got herself settled in Studio 2 with her coffee when the buzzer signaled someone at the outside door.

Of course it was Ken, She let him into the building and led him back to the studio.

"My God, Laurie! What possessed you to let Nat Howard send you off on an assignment like that? You, of all people, should know how dangerous seaplanes are! What if you crashed? Howard has no right to expect this of you. Your parents were frantic!"

"You called my parents?"

"You were in terrible danger. It's time you found a more suitable job. Your father and I have it all worked out. You can work in your family's hotel. I can spend most of the summer in Masset. We—"

"You shouldn't have frightened my parents! Did anyone call to tell them I'm all right?" After Shane, it was criminal for anyone to scare them like this.

"Nat Howard was going to call. He's the one to blame for worrying them in the first place—worrying all of us! Tomorrow, Laurie, I'm coming in to see him. This has got to stop!"

"You can't blame Nat for this."

"Of course I can. The parents all agree—yours and mine. All this travelling and overtime has to stop."

"We'll talk about it later." This was no time for reason, certainly no time for confessions. "I've got to get this news item written first. You and I could drive up to Masset afterwards, to see my parents. Maybe we could all have dinner together at the hotel." In the car, alone with Ken, she could talk to him. Maybe stop at Tlell beach and take a walk.

Try to explain what happened on Hot Spring Island.

"You know I can't go tonight. I'm helping Burke move into his new apartment today."

"Sorry, I forgot." She reached out to soothe him, but jerked her hand back when she realized she'd been expecting—insanely—the feel of Luke's skin on her fingertips.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

"Well, it's done now." He wasn't quite ready to forgive her, but seemed satisfied that she was repentant. "You'd better call Masset and talk to your parents. I won't be back from Burke's until the move is over—probably late tonight. Tomorrow, I'll talk to Howard."

"That's not necessary. But we need to talk, you and I."

"We'll see." His anger was abating. "We'll go out to dinner tomorrow night. I'll make reservations at the hotel. We'll dance." She held herself rigid when he bent down to kiss her. She must not cringe from Ken, but she could not bear his touch knowing how she had betrayed him last night.

When she dialed her number, her father answered.