To Love & Protect Her (8 page)

Without questioning him, she moved over and sat on the floor, leaning against the stone that soared to the ceiling. It was the best he could do. He wanted her in his sight.

He stood next to the door, waiting patiently as the lights flickered two more times. Each time, it took longer for them to come back on. If someone was out there, manipulating the generator, it was a good strategy, he acknowledged. Sooner or later, he would have to leave the cabin to check on the generator. And then the perpetrator would pounce.

The lights flickered one more time, then stayed out. The cabin plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the flickering fire. Griff tensed. If no one came out of the cabin now, the person waiting outside would be forced to make his move.

Nothing happened. There was no movement outside, no appearances of shadows darker than they should be. There were no sounds from outside, either. And Griff knew he would hear something if someone was outside the cabin. The kidnappers who were after Willa wouldn't know how to move noiselessly through the night. They weren't professionals. He was
sure of it. He was a professional, and he knew what to look for. Willa's kidnappers had given up far too easily when they'd had her the first time.

He waited an agonizing half hour, but still there was nothing. Finally he whispered to Willa, “Come on over here. But stay low.”

He heard her moving across the floor slowly; then she was at his side. He squeezed her shoulder, then let her go. He couldn't afford to be distracted. “Sit on the floor over against the cabinet.” He nodded toward the tiny kitchen. He wanted her away from the outside wall. “I don't think there's anyone out there, but I'm not willing to take any chances.”

“How would anyone have found us?” He could hear the tiny frisson of fear in her voice.

“There are about a thousand ways, if they're clever enough.” He hadn't thought they were that clever, but he'd been wrong before. “I'm going to take a look outside.”

“You're not going to leave me in here by myself, are you?” Even though she was whispering, he heard her voice rise.

“You can't come outside. You'll be a target.”

“I'll be a sitting duck here in the house.”

“I won't let anyone get into the house.”

He imagined he could hear her swallow in the darkness. “All right. You're the expert, I guess. Tell me what to do.”

“That's my girl.” The words slipped out accidentally, but he told himself he meant nothing personal.
“I saw a torch in one of the drawers in the kitchen. See if you can find it.”

“A torch?” she repeated.

“You Americans call it a ‘flashlight,' I think.”

He listened as she rummaged in first one drawer, then another. Finally he heard her murmur of satisfaction.

“Here it is.”

“Good. I want you to sit in the corner of the kitchen, where there aren't any windows. If anyone but me comes in the house, there's a chance he won't see you at first. If he does, hold the torch as far away from your body as you can and shine it in his eyes. You'll blind him for a moment, and that will be your chance to get out the door.”

The silence pulsed with her fear. Finally she said, “I can do that.” There was a tremble in her voice, but her words were firm.

“I know you can, Willa.” He wanted to crush her in his arms and tell her how brave she was, and how much he admired her. But he wouldn't allow himself to be distracted. So he deliberately looked away from her, examining the darkness outside the window once again. “It's not going to happen,” he said. “But I want you to be prepared for anything.”

“Go ahead and go,” she said, and her voice was steadier. “I'm fine.”

He couldn't stop himself from turning to look at her again. “I know you are, Willa. You're more than fine. You're incredible.” He ached to touch her, but
instead tightened his hand on the door. “I'll be back soon. Don't worry.”

He slipped out the door before he could persuade himself to stay with Willa, to protect her. She wouldn't be safe until he made sure there was no one waiting for them outside the cabin.

He moved across the open yard in front of the cabin, feeling horribly exposed, then melted into the trees that surrounded the small building. There he waited.

The only sounds he heard were the sounds of night. Far in the distance, he heard the cry of a night predator. Above him, the needles of the pines rustled in the wind. The trees groaned as branches rubbed against trunks, the noise eerie in the darkness. But Griff ignored it, listening for any hint of an intruder in the night.

He waited for what seemed an eternity, but he heard no restless shifting of feet in the leaf litter on the ground. There was no smell of fear and excitement in the air, no taste of reckless bloodlust in the wind. They were alone at the cabin. No one had found their sanctuary in the mountains.

He circled the cabin, just to be sure, stopping every few feet to listen. But the results were always the same.

Finally he hurried back to the door of the cabin. Before he entered, he called out, “It's me, Willa. Griff. I'm coming back in.”

As he stepped through the door of the cabin, Willa threw herself against him. “I was so worried,” she
said, her voice catching as she wrapped her arms around him and held on tightly. “I couldn't hear anything, and you were gone for so long. I was afraid that someone had ambushed you.”

“I'm fine,” he said, resting his face against her hair and stroking her back. “I'm sorry I scared you. I just wanted to be sure there wasn't anyone out there.”

“I was terrified,” she said as she curled her fingers into his shoulders. “I thought you might have been hurt, and I didn't know what to do.”

“You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” he said, gathering her close. “You stayed in here where I wouldn't have to worry about you.”

He rubbed his cheek against the silk of her hair, inhaling her fragrance. She smelled like flowers and sunshine, and he couldn't get enough of her.

“Griff,” she murmured, raising her head and tightening her arms around him.

Without thinking, without reasoning, he bent his head and met her mouth with his. He could think of nothing except his need to possess her, to assure himself she was all right. And she answered his kiss with a passion of her own. Her mouth opened beneath his, tasting him as eagerly as he savored her.

He felt her melt against him, her body subtly surrendering to his. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and his hands ached to feel their weight. Her hard nipples pressed into him, making him burn with need. When he trailed his fingers along her throat, her pulse galloped wildly against his hand. And when he bent to kiss her neck, she moaned his name.

Before he could think, before he could stop himself, he slid his hands beneath her sweater and along the warm satin of her skin. She inhaled sharply, and he felt her tense. But she clasped her arms around him and kissed him again.

He closed his eyes as his hands roamed over her back and sides. Her skin was hot and slick, and the pleasure coursing through him made his senses reel. He was lost in the feel of her, lost in the sensations she evoked.

He had to touch her or he would lose his mind. Her breasts were heavy in his hands, and her nipples were tight against the soft material of her bra. When he touched them lightly, she gasped against his mouth.

He fumbled with the front clasp, and when it fell open beneath his fingers, her satiny breasts tumbled into his hands. When he smoothed his thumbs over her nipples, they were hot.

“Griff!”

He drank in her cries of pleasure, hard and aching with the need to bury himself inside her. She was trembling in his arms, holding tightly to his shoulders, and when he opened his eyes to look at her, he saw that her face was filled with need.

Groaning, he bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth. She cried out again and pressed herself closer to him. He felt her hands pulling at his shirt, and finally her fingers were on his skin, touching and exploring.

He couldn't stop the shudder that ripped through him, could barely control the need to rip off her
clothes and lay her down on the floor. He knew she wouldn't stop him. She was as aroused, as lost in him, as he was in her.

Closing his eyes, he swirled his tongue around her nipple again and surged against her. She clutched at his back and moaned his name again, and Griff pulled her close. But when she shivered once more, the haze of wanting faded from his brain just enough for her to realize that she was cold.

And that was enough to make him gentle his hold on her. He pulled her close for another instant, resting his head against her hair as he pulled her sweater back into place. He couldn't bear to let her go just yet.

“What's wrong?” she asked, and he could hear her need in the smoky huskiness of her voice, feel it in the flutter of her hands.

“Nothing. And everything.”

She eased herself back far enough to look into his face, and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. “What happened, Griff?”

“This is the wrong time and place for this,” he managed to say. “I have to figure out what's wrong with the generator.”

“I see.” She tried to step away, but he held her tightly.

Suddenly he saw the doubt in her eyes, the vulnerability. And realized what she was thinking. “Don't think that I don't want you,” he growled.

She swallowed, and he watched the ripple of her throat in the moonlight. “It's hard not to think that when you pull away every time we kiss.”

“I want you so much I can barely stand,” he said. He took her hand and pressed it against the rigid, throbbing ache in his jeans. “Does that feel like I don't want you?”

He'd expected her to flinch away, but instead she touched him lightly, her fingers exploring the length and hardness of him. He shuddered and closed his eyes as wave after wave of craving crashed over him. “Hell, Willa, stop. Or you're going to have me on my knees, begging.”

Too slowly, she took her hand away. “You make me want to beg. I think I'd like to hear you beg, too.” Her voice was shaking and filled with wonder.

He took a deep, ragged breath and moved away from her. His whole body ached and pulsed with need. “I can't do this, Willa. I can't allow myself to be distracted. A whole army of thugs could have come through this door, and I wouldn't have noticed.” He reached out and touched her cheek, then pulled back. “And that's only for starters. You don't belong with a man like me.”

“Says who?” She lifted her chin and glared at him defiantly.

“Says me.” He turned away from the temptation of her swollen mouth and dark, pleading eyes. “You don't know who I am, Willa. Not really. And I don't ever want you to know.”

“Maybe you don't know me, either.” Her voice was husky. “Maybe we're more alike than either of us realize.”

G
riff crushed the spark of hope that flared up inside him. He would never be in the same class as Willa, never be worthy of her. “We need to go check on that generator.”

Willa stared at him for a long time, then she nodded. “Let's do that.”

She turned around to pick up the torch she'd left on the floor, and he stared at her, puzzled. He'd expected her to argue with him, to tell him he was exactly what she wanted—but she hadn't.

He felt a burst of disappointment. “Let's go, then,” he said gruffly. “You'll have to hold the torch for me. This may take a while.”

“That's all right. I'm very good at waiting,” she said.

He gave her a sharp look, but she merely raised her eyebrows at him. Scowling, he stomped out the door and headed for the back of the cabin. Willa was right behind him.

The generator sat in a small enclosure at the rear of the building. He wanted to kick it. If it hadn't stopped running, he wouldn't have thought someone had found them. And if he hadn't been so worried
about Willa, he never would have kissed her. He was horribly afraid that Willa had seen the truth, seen that he wanted her with an all-consuming need. He would have to be very careful not to touch her again.

“Hold the light here,” he said, banishing his need from his mind, determined to concentrate only on the task at hand. He gestured at the machine in front of him. Willa squatted down next to him and held the beam of the torch on the generator.

Griff inventoried each part with his hands and his eyes. Nothing looked broken or out of place. He checked to make sure there was enough fuel; the tank was at least half full. Grunting, he lay down on the ground and peered around the edge of the enclosure that protected the generator from the weather.

And swore long and loud.

“What did you find?” Willa scooted closer and tried to peer over his shoulder.

“The damn belt is broken,” he growled.

He reached behind the generator and pulled out the frayed and separated belt of rubber. “It must have gotten caught a couple of times before it broke completely, and that's why the lights flickered, then came back on.”

“Well, at least it's something fixable,” she said, standing up and switching off the torch.

“
If
there's another belt.” He scowled again and held out his hand. “Let me have the torch. I'll check in the shed.”

He stalked away, lighting the way with the thin beam of light. The torch barely illuminated the shed,
but he was able to search through the drawers of the workbench, and he could see there was no spare belt anywhere.

“No belt,” he told Willa, who waited by the door. “Let's go back in the house.”

She followed him silently. Once inside, he carefully locked the door, then turned to her. “Let's go sit near the fire. You're probably getting cold.”

“I'm fine,” she said, but he saw her shiver as she headed for the fireplace. Willa was far tougher and stronger than he had ever imagined. He couldn't believe he'd thought of her as a soft, easily trampled flower. She was proving to be more like a proud, supple tree, bending with the wind, but never breaking.

They sat in front of the fireplace as he examined the broken belt. He'd worked enough with small engines to know how to fix them, and how to jerry-rig them to keep them running. There was no way it could be repaired.

“This one is completely shot,” he said finally.

Willa leaned closer to look, and although he tried not to notice, her scent surrounded him. “What are our options?”

“We can go without electricity, or we can get a new belt.” He scowled again. “I don't like either of those ideas.”

“It's not that cold. We can survive without the heat.”

Admiration stirred again, but he ruthlessly pushed it away. “It's not just the heat. It's the pump for the
water, and the electricity for the stove, and lights. Not to mention that if we don't have electricity, we've lost our ability to communicate. I'm not sure this type of phone will work without electricity.”

“So we need another belt. Can we get one in El Paso?”

He nodded grimly. “We can get a belt there. That's not what I'm worried about.”

“Then what?” She rested her chin in her hand and stared at him.

“If we leave this cabin and go to El Paso, we're taking a chance. We're safe here, because no one but Ryan knows where we are. What if someone you know sees you in El Paso? And what if they tell someone else? I don't like it.” He scowled again.

“I don't know that many people, Griff,” she protested. “The chances of running into someone I know are pretty slight.”

“How many students did you have in your classes last semester?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I had three classes, and there were between twenty and forty people in each of them.”

“That's a hundred people, right there.” He stood up and paced around the small room. “And if you start adding in friends and acquaintances, there's a lot more of them. Maybe none of them are in El Paso right now, but maybe some of them are. And maybe we'd only run into one of them. But that's one too many.”

“I'm sorry,” she said softly. “It must be horrible to have to think like that every day.”

He hadn't thought of it that way before. And he couldn't afford to think about it now. “That's just the way it is.” He sat down abruptly. “We can't do anything about the belt tonight. I'm afraid it's going to be cold in here.”

“I'll survive,” she said lightly. “There are probably extra blankets somewhere.”

He looked into the fire. “Do you want to sleep in the same bed? Just to keep warm? Two bodies are always warmer than one.” His voice had an edge to it.

Silence stretched between them, and finally he glanced over at her. He couldn't read her expression. She met his gaze, and held it. He looked away first.

“I don't think so,” she said, and her voice was husky. The flickering firelight reflected off her face, making her eyes appear huge and mysterious. “I don't think that would be a good idea, Griff.”

“I can control myself.”

“I know,” she murmured. “You've demonstrated that more than once.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

No, he didn't. He wanted to sleep in the same bed with Willa almost more than he wanted to breathe. But looking at Willa in the firelight, he knew there wouldn't be much sleeping if he crawled between the sheets with her.

“Then you should sleep out here, in front of the fire.” He stood abruptly. Thinking about sleeping
with Willa wasn't a good idea. “I'll get more firewood.”

“All right.”

When he returned with the wood, she was still sitting next to the fire. The cabin was definitely getting colder. By morning, it would be like a refrigerator. “Go get ready for bed while I build up the fire,” he said, trying not to think about Willa in the oversize T-shirt she wore to bed.

“Where are you going to sleep?” she asked.

“Upstairs.”

“It'll be cold up there. Why don't you sleep down here, near the fire? There's plenty of room for both of us.”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

Even in the dim light from the fire, he could see her blush. “You're right. I don't know what I was thinking.”

She was thinking the same thing he was thinking. Turning away from her before he could do or say something really crazy, he threw a log onto the fire with vicious accuracy. Willa hurried away, and he heard the door to the bedroom close with a tiny
click.

She emerged a few minutes later, her T-shirt tantalizingly draped over her slender frame, her shapely legs tempting him. He saw that she'd left her socks on, and the picture she made was at once innocent and sexy.

He jerked away from her and tried to concentrate on arranging the logs on the fire. In a few minutes
the fire was blazing and heat poured out of the fireplace.

“You should be set now,” he said, standing and moving away from her. “If it gets cold during the night, call me and I'll put more logs on the fire.”

“I'm perfectly capable of putting a log on the fire by myself,” she said, arranging a blanket on the floor and being careful not to look at him. “But thanks for the offer.”

“You're welcome.” He watched her for a moment, wanting nothing more than to curl up next to her on the floor and pull her close. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he turned away. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Griff.”

Her voice was soft, and he heard an unmistakable yearning in her tone. Before he could stop himself, he turned around to look at her. “Sleep well, Willa.”

Her gaze caught and held his, and she couldn't disguise the flash of need. Then she looked away. “You, too.”

Her silhouette was reflected in the firelight, making her face shadowed and mysterious. But he wouldn't forget the desire that her eyes had revealed.

He'd think about it all night.

He forced himself to walk up the stairs to the loft before he could touch her again. Because if he touched her tonight, he wouldn't be able to stop at a few kisses. If he touched her tonight, they'd go places from which there was no turning back. And that couldn't happen.

It was cold in his room, but he welcomed it. The cold would keep his mind off Willa, keep his mind off the heat they could generate together. As he slipped between the chilled sheets on his bed, he thought once more about her, sleeping in front of the fire. He allowed himself to linger on the image for a moment, and then he banished it from his mind. If there was one thing he was good at, it was focusing on the job that had to be done.

It had just never been this hard before.

 

The house was cold and still when he woke with a jerk. Several hours had passed, he knew, since he'd fallen asleep. But something had startled him, and he lay quietly in the bed, listening.

The sound came again, a soft cry of distress, and he knew instantly that it was Willa. Shoving the blankets aside, he scrambled out of bed and grabbed his gun before running down the stairs. Nothing was out of place in the cabin. The door and all the windows were closed, and Willa appeared to be asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Then she cried out again, a sound that tore his heart out. She was having a nightmare.

He hurried over to her side and dropped to the floor next to her. Her auburn hair tumbled around her face, and she moved restlessly on the blanket she'd spread on the floor. “Willa,” he whispered, touching her shoulder. “Wake up.”

She didn't open her eyes or respond. Instead, she gave another sharp cry, and tears began to run down
her cheeks. “Willa,” he said, more loudly. “You're having a nightmare. Wake up.”

She wore a cardigan over her T-shirt for warmth, and her restless movements made it gape open in front. The neck of the T-shirt was scooped low on her chest, and when she turned toward him, he saw a flash of pale flesh. His whole body tightened painfully, then he carefully pulled her cardigan together again.

“Wake up, Willa.”

Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked at him, but her eyes were curiously blank. “Griff,” she murmured, and held out her arms.

She was still asleep, he realized. Without thinking, he lay down next to her and pulled her close to him. Wasn't it dangerous to wake a person having a nightmare? But only a monster would let her suffer through a nightmare alone, he told himself. She clearly wasn't going to wake up, so the next best thing was to comfort her while she slept.

She settled against him with a murmur of pleasure. Nestling her face into his neck, she pressed her hand against his chest and immediately fell into a sound sleep.

Her breathing changed as he held her. He felt it deepen and smooth from ragged to even and slow. She didn't cry out, didn't move. Apparently he'd chased the nightmare away. But now she was curled around him as if they belonged together, and the rest of the night was going to be
his
nightmare.

Or his dream come true.

How else could he describe the opportunity to hold Willa close, to savor the scent and feel of her? He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the insistent throbbing from certain areas of his body. Willa was asleep and safe. In the morning, she wouldn't even remember that he'd been holding her. He'd slip away before she woke up. So Griff allowed himself to hold her close, allowed himself to indulge his fantasies.

It was only one night, after all.

 

Willa woke up slowly, floating on a sea of pleasurable sensations. She was dreaming about Griff. His scent surrounded her, and his heart beat strong and steady against her cheek. She didn't want to open her eyes, afraid that the fantasy would burst like a bubble in the air.

Then her pillow moved, and she opened her eyes with a start. She was sprawled on top of Griff, her arms around his neck and her legs intimately tangled with his. Her head was pillowed against his chest, and the thin T-shirt he wore was no barrier against the heat that poured from his body.

In that first instant of realization, all she wanted to do was savor his closeness. She wanted to snuggle closer to him, to allow herself to sink into him. She didn't want to think about why he was sleeping next to her. She only wanted to enjoy it.

But Griff had seemed so determined to avoid getting involved with her. What had happened the night before? Something had, or he wouldn't have ended
up next to her. But she suspected he wouldn't be happy about this, either.

So she shifted her legs slowly, trying to ease away from him before he woke up. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable—and the attraction that simmered between them definitely made him uncomfortable.

As she eased her leg from between his legs, she brushed against him and froze. Part of him was definitely awake. Slowly she looked up and found him watching her.