Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (9 page)

“My public,” he said, kissing his fingertips and pressing them to her lips, “gets in the way on occasion.”

With that, he left. Shane’s heart pounded in her ears.

Chapter Six

“Camping?” Shane cried in disbelief. The Saturday sun was just struggling to illuminate her hotel room as she stood, staring at Nick, wondering if she was hearing him correctly. “Why in heaven’s name would you want to go camping?”

“Because I like it,” he said.

He certainly looked the part of an outdoorsman, she thought. He had woken her up—again. Nick was wearing faded jeans. A blue-and-gray, half-opened plaid shirt peeked out from a denim jacket.

“Camping?” she repeated incredulously. “As in dirt and bugs and lumpy rocks?”

“Camping, as in the stars winking brilliantly over you and the earth pillowing your head,” he amended. There was an amused twinkle in his eyes that Shane barely caught as she sighed, pulling the sash tighter on her robe. Stoically she made her way toward her closet and began shoving the hangers apart, searching for the appropriate clothes.

“They should have sent you someone from National Geographic,” she muttered audibly, fishing out a peach blouse and a pair of jeans she had meant to wear only while she was working in the hotel room.

Nick sat on the corner of her rumpled bed, watching her. “We’re not going to the heart of darkest Africa,” he said. “Just to Rocky Mountain National Park.”

“Do they have bears in this park?” she asked, refusing to take another step toward the bathroom. The clothes dangled from her fingers as she thought in horror of the prospect of running into wild animals.

“Probably,” he replied nonchalantly. Then added, “You’d better get a move on. The pilot’s waiting for us.”

“Pilot? What are we going to do, parachute in?” Her eyes were wide with horror.

He came up to her then, putting his arms about her waist. “No.” He laughed. “Not this time.”

“Don’t tell me, you sky dive.”

“I used to. The studio doesn’t approve of that while I’m filming.” The clothes she held between them were getting squashed, and a warm, hazy feeling was spreading through her veins as he pulled her even closer.

“Thank God for the studio,” she said, genuinely relieved. “Why would you want to take such risks?” Jumping out of planes was an activity reserved for soldiers and crazy people, as far as she was concerned.

“To experience life to its fullest,” he said simply.

“That’s a good way to experience death to its fullest too,” she retorted, keenly aware of his face being so close to her own. She fought the urge to stand up on her tiptoes and kiss him.

He laughed again. It was a delicious laugh, which almost curled her toes in their fluffy pink slippers. “Where’s your spirit of adventure?” he asked.

“I use mine up traveling on the subway every day. I see all the wild life there that I want to, thank you.” For a moment, there was silence as Nick’s laughter melted away and they stared at each other. He was going to kiss her, her senses telegraphed the message urgently. And as much as she wanted him to, she made a motion to separate them. She couldn’t afford to get herself any more emotionally entangled than she was. An affair would be easy, but she felt that this was more than just infatuation. All she could foresee were problems and heartaches, loving a man like this.

“Um, the pilot,” she reminded him. “He’s waiting anxiously, remember?”

“So am I,” she heard Nick murmur as she went off to the bathroom to change.

Scottie drove them to a small airstrip, where an Apache four-seater airplane stood waiting. Shane cast an apprehensive glance at the plane. She had never been up in anything but large commercial aircraft. She licked her lips nervously. “Don’t these things crash a lot?”

“No. Once is about enough.” He was obviously struggling to wipe the smile from his lips.

“Very funny,” Shane muttered, wrestling with the backpack that Nick had provided for her. The bulky object with sleeping bag attached seemed at war with her shoulder bag. She looked up to see both Nick and the pilot watching her. “I’m not good at juggling things,” she snapped, hating to be caught at a disadvantage.

“Oh, I’d say you were pretty good at it,” Nick told her, lifting her load and slinging it over his left shoulder. In his right hand, he held onto his own backpack, managing both easily.

Shane looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out just what he meant by his comment and deciding that it was best to leave the topic alone. She resolutely followed him to the plane, glancing wistfully at the Mercedes that was pulling away.

Nick caught her look. “C’mon,” he urged, nudging her along with his elbow. “It’ll be fun.”

Shane had her doubts about that.

Shane had never been to a national park. The closest she had ever come was to look down at patches of green as she flew over them, going from one destination to another. Grudgingly, she had to admit that the sight of nature close up was rather breathtaking. Warm autumn colors of gold, orange, and brown greeted her as Nick helped her out of the small plane.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Nick asked, as if reading her mind.

She nodded. The next thing she knew, he was placing the pack on her back, and she had all she could do to keep her balance. The beauty of nature was quickly forgotten.

“Thanks, Jake,” Nick said to the pilot, who was already climbing back into his plane. “We’ll go it alone from here.”

“We will, huh?” Shane muttered, glancing at their surroundings. The area seemed lonely and desolate. She felt uneasiness take hold of her.

Nick turned back and caught her expression as the airplane taxied away. “I thought reporters were supposed to be fearless.” He winked at her.

“We are, we are,” she affirmed. “We just prefer being somewhere where we have nothing to fear.”

“Not to worry. I’m here to protect you.” He took her hand as if to guarantee the promise.

“Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?” she asked dryly. Then she sighed, resigned to her fate. “Okay, Daniel Boone, where to now?”

“Down this trail here,” Nick said, pointing in a direction where Shane saw no trail at all. “I know a good stream where we can set up camp and catch some fish for dinner.”

“Terrific,” Shane muttered.

“Spoken like a true trooper.” Nick grinned. “Let’s go,” he urged, and with that, began leading the way.

The pack was beginning to weigh a ton already as the straps dug into her suede jacket. She wondered if the jacket would ever be the same again. She wondered if she would ever be the same again after this weekend. The fact that Nick knew where he was going astounded her. She knew that there were people who could lead you out of the heart of darkest Africa and what have you, but to her that was unreal. She had trouble going from one place to another unless the streets were clearly marked or she had a map that detailed every step of the way. Here every tree looked like every other. She knew that the sun supposedly rose in the east and set in the west, but now all it was doing was filtering through tall branches of trees, and as far as she was concerned, that didn’t help one bit, other than give a charming appeal to the area.

Shane watched both sides of the wooded area apprehensively, waiting for wildlife to spring out at her. Why couldn’t Nick be the type who liked to lounge in front of a fireplace with a martini in his hand the way all Hollywood types were supposed to? she wondered, staring at his back as she tried to march behind him. No, then he wouldn’t be so special, she realized . . . and she wouldn’t be experiencing all these dangerous feelings that she was trying desperately to keep under control.

A loud rustling noise overhead made Shane jerk her eyes toward its source, sucking in her breath. But it was only a large, brilliant blue bird flapping its wings against the dying leaves of a maple tree. A number of leaves fell down around her, and as Shane pulled her head away, she missed her footing and slid down the incline right into Nick, knocking him down. Within a moment, they were a tangle of arms, legs, and backpacks. Shane heard something go “crack” and stared down in horror at her legs.

They were both broken, she just knew it.

“You’re not supposed to slide down the hill,” Nick told her, getting up first and taking her hand. She made no move to accept it. “What’s the matter?”

“My legs,” she said, still staring down. “I think I broke them.”

Concerned, Nick bent down, gingerly touching

first one and then the other. “Does this hurt?” he asked, his fingers gently exploring both regions.

“No,” she said, her lips thinning. It didn’t hurt. What she was feeling was the warm, stirring response of desire awakened at his touch. She watched as his fingers came closer to her groin area. “Maybe they’re not broken,” she said hurriedly, putting her hand on his shoulder and trying to stand up. “But I did hear a cracking noise,” she told him.

“A dried branch you stepped on?” he asked, arching a brow.

She was about to agree with his explanation when she hoisted her purse and heard an unfamiliar clanking noise. Closer inspection of the contents told her that her recorder was no longer a whole, but a mass of parts.

“It’s broken,” she lamented. Shane looked accusingly at the large rock beneath her purse.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Nick promised.

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” she asked, closing the flap on her bag in utter annoyance.

“Enjoy yourself,” he suggested, beginning to walk again.

Shane took a step to follow, then winced. A groan escaped her lips.

“Now what?” Nick asked, turning around again.

“I think it’s my ankle,” she answered. Tiny pinpricks of pain radiated from her right ankle. “I think I twisted it.”

“Small wonder,” Nick said, forcing her to sit down on the rock that had murdered her recorder. He proceeded to pull off her intricately hand-tooled boot. “These aren’t sensible camping boots,” he informed her.

“I wasn’t planning on camping, sensibly or otherwise, when I bought them,” she retorted. She watched as he carefully rotated her ankle. It was painful, but not unbearable. “Now what? Do you shoot me?”

He laughed. “Looks fine to me,” he said, replacing her boot. For a moment he stroked her leg, then rose suddenly. “It all looks fine to me,” he said, his eyes meeting hers significantly.

She ignored his comment. Putting her hand in his, she got back on her feet. “How much farther to this Mecca of yours?”

“We’re almost there,” he said.

“A likely story,” she muttered under her breath as she gingerly tested her foot. It ached just a little. “Lead on,” she instructed.

“There” turned out to be a tree-lined lake with a huge waterfall at one end as a backdrop. Its waters cascaded down onto a pattern of rocks and let out into an area surrounded with the last flowers of summer. The flowers vied for space amid the newly fallen leaves that covered the ground like a multicolored patchwork quilt. Shane imagined that the Garden of Eden must have looked this way in early fall.

And here she was with Adam, she thought, glancing at Nick. Not another soul was in sight. It made her feel romantic—and uneasy at the same time.

“Was it worth it?” Nick asked.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “It’s worth it.”

He looked at her curiously. She realized that from her tone it was obvious that she wasn’t just talking about the trek to the stream. And she wasn’t. Somewhere along the line, she had unconsciously decided that she should savor what was to be and not weigh the consequences so heavily. A lot worse things could happen to her than having Nick Rutledge make love to her.

Yes
, a small voice echoed. She could fall deeply in love. That would be much, much worse. That, she reminded herself, would be a disaster with no fairy-tale happy ending in sight.

“So what do we do now?” she asked, struggling out of the straps of her backpack. Instantly, she felt better—at least physically.

“Now,” he told her, “we set up camp and start thinking about lunch.”

Lunch. At the mere sound of the word, her stomach rumbled expectantly. She glanced at Nick to see if he had heard the embarrassing noise. He had. He was grinning at her. “So where is it?” she asked, bending down to open her knapsack. Nothing but a coffeepot and a frying pan greeted her, along with some miscellaneous items she didn’t recognize.

“Out there,” Nick told her, pointing toward the stream as he took out several pieces of what looked to Shane like a jigsaw puzzle. After a few twists of the hand and the jigsaw puzzle turned into a fishing pole. “You’ve got one too,” Nick said, nodding toward her knapsack.

Shane looked in again.
So that was what those pieces of wood were
, she thought, taking them out. It took her a lot longer to put hers together, but finally she joined him, triumphantly showing off her handiwork.

“Very good,” he said. “Now cast out your line and sit down next to me.”

Casting was another story. The line refused, at first, even to enter the water, getting caught on an overhead branch instead. Nick disentangled her, having the good grace not to laugh out loud.

“Maybe you weren’t cut out for this sort of thing,” he said sympathetically.

Which was just what she needed to hear. Thus challenged, Shane did not give up until she finally got her hook in the water, not all that far from Nick’s.

“There,” she said smugly, burying the hilt of her fishing rod in the ground the way he did. “Never tell me I can’t do anything,” she said, “because I categorically refuse to recognize the word ‘can’t’ as part of my vocabulary.”

A sensuous smile played on his lips. “You can’t make love to me,” he said, watching her face.

She hadn’t expected him to say such a thing, and after an initial hesitation, she started to laugh. “Oh, no, I’m not falling into that trap.”

“Why not?” he said softly. “I have.”

His breath caressed her cheek, and somehow she found herself in his arms. Raw passion sprang up as their lips met. They dropped to the ground as one, and Shane pulled him closer to her, glorying in the weight of his body against hers. His fingers raked her hair, drawing her even closer to him. His tongue explored the sweetness offered to him, and Shane tingled with excitement as she felt the quick, sensual darting motions inside her mouth. His tongue familiarized itself with her tongue, teeth, lips, just as his hands learned the contours of her body. Her jacket had long been discarded in face of the growing noonday heat, and now her blouse was parting from her skin as Nick’s sensitive fingers grazed along her breastbone, going ever lower on her burning skin.