Iris Johansen - A Summer Smile

“The hell it wouldn’t!” Daniel’s voice was so violent that it startled her. “It would matter to me.” He drew a deep breath, and when he spoke again it was through clenched teeth. “I think you better shut up. At the moment I’m feeling pretty wild. I might just show you how much it could matter to you as well. That would be slightly unwise, as Hassan would probably appear on the scene and shoot my ass off.”

“That would be a little inconvenient.” She tried to smile. “As well as being totally useless. There’s no way you can convince me that the sexual act is more than a simple animalistic coupling.”

“No? You’re speaking like a frustrated, antiquated virgin. If we weren’t in the wrong place at the wrong time to-” He broke off as he saw the strange wounded look in her eyes. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You’re looking at me as if I’d stabbed you.”

“Am I?” Her voice was shaky in spite of her efforts to steady it. “How stupid of me.” She began to walk faster. “I’m not a virgin, you know. I haven’t been for a long time. You were right, I started very young.” She was speaking quickly, almost feverishly. “But not with David Bradford. Never with David.”

He suddenly halted in the path and swung her around to face him. “Will you shut up and let me look at you, dammit.” His gaze raked her tense face, and he began to curse with low and intense sincerity. “I’ve hurt you. What the hell did I say that hurt you so much?”

“Nothing.” She tried to loosen his hold. “I told you I was being stupid. Let’s get going. We’ve got to keep moving, haven’t we?”

“Yes,” he said. His hands were kneading her shoulders absently as he stared into her face. “But I’m not going on until you tell me why you’re hurting.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Was it that crack I made about virgins? I’ve heard Sedikhan society is pretty straightlaced.” He gave her a little shake. “I don’t give a damn how young you were when you had your first man.” His lips twisted in a rueful grin. “I’d make a bet that I was probably younger than you when I had my first woman. I don’t have any right to ask something of you that I can’t give in return.” His smile deepened and took on a gentleness that caused her heart to jerk crazily and then melt like the snows of spring. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m a rough man and I’ve lived a rough life but you don’t have to be afraid of me. I’ll never hurt you intentionally.” His finger touched the outer edge of her lower lip. “And I’ll never let anyone else hurt you. Do you believe me?”

His touch was so light; how could it have such powerful sensuality? She felt every brush of his fingertip, not only on her lips but in her wrists, the pit of her stomach, and the soles of her feet. She was tingling all over and he wasn’t even trying to arouse her in a sensual way. She was conscious of the scent of him surrounding her. The clean smell of soap, the musky odor of sweat and man. She suddenly wanted to reach up and touch the dark, flaming softness of his beard and trace the well-defined curve of his lip as he was touching hers. She actually wanted to touch him, she realized with a sense of shock.

She lowered her eyes hurriedly to the center of his chest, but it did little to alleviate the odd languid heat that was flowing through her. Instead, she began to wonder if the hair on his chest was as red and silky as his beard. She shook her head to try to clear it. “I believe you,” she said with a laugh that was a bit husky. “But hadn’t we better keep going? I don’t see how you’re going to prevent my being hurt,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Not with your ass shot off.”

He gave her a hug that was like being embraced by an affectionate grizzly bear. Lord, he was a big man.

“We’ll make every effort to keep that from happening. I have a great fondness for that portion of my anatomy.” Then he released her and started hustling her through the underbrush at a pace that gave neither of them breath for further conversation.

Zilah’s lungs felt as if they were about to burst, and her jeans and shirt were as wet with perspiration as if she’d been dropped into a lake. Oh, dear, she wished she hadn’t thought of that simile. Being immersed in a cool mountain lake was the stuff dreams were made of at this particular moment.

Daniel cast her a glance over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed to pierce the dusk that was falling around them. “All right?”

She nodded, saving her breath. She was going to need it. In the past few hours Daniel had set a grueling pace. She didn’t know how many miles they had come, but if sheer exhaustion was any measure, it must have been a hundred. These hills had looked so cool and inviting when she’d first caught sight of them. That misty coolness had truly been the mirage she had thought it. Here in the shade of the trees it was only a few degrees cooler than the desert.

“I’ll let you rest soon,” Daniel said. “I want to make it down to the foothills before dark.” He didn’t wait for an answer but turned and set off again. His long, powerful legs traversed the downhill slope with a speed and surety that was amazing in a man so large. He moved very silently as well, she thought as she forced herself to try to match that torturous pace. Was his stealth responsible for his managing to plant all those charges around the plane without being detected? Must be, she decided. Now he had to be feeling the heat as she was. His khaki shirt was plastered to his back and arms, and that backpack and rifle he was carrying had to be suffocatingly hot as well as heavy. Yet he wasn’t even breathing hard, darn it. She was ready to drop in her tracks and he looked like he was out for a leisurely stroll.

He stopped so short she almost ran into him. “Come on. I thought I remembered it being here.” He took her arm and half pulled her up a sloping knoll that bordered the downhill path. “It’s just around this little cliff.”

“What is?”

“A small cave, and down the hill a little farther is a tiny stream. We can shelter there for the night.”

“We’re not going to go on?”

“Hassan and his boys may be combing the hills, and I don’t want to blunder into them in the dark. Not with you along. We’re close enough to the border that we can reach it in a few hours. We’ll start out again before dawn.” He pulled her up the last few yards. His arm encircled her waist as he half carried her over the overgrown path around the knoll.

“You don’t have to stop on my account,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I’m fine.”

He glanced down at her, and for an instant his hand on her waist tightened imperceptibly. “I can see that,” he said gruffly. “You look as if you’re ready to collapse at any moment, but you’re just fine. You can handle it, right?”

She grinned. “Right.” She felt a surge of warmth that was different from the hot tingling she had felt before. This was more comforting, as sweetly soothing as her mother’s touch, even David’s touch. How strange that this stranger could fill her with such a tempestuous mixture of emotions. “I can handle it.”

“Well, you’re not going to have to handle anything at the moment.” They emerged from the shrubbery on the other side of the knoll, and he stopped in front of a small opening in the side of the hill that was no more than five feet in circumference.

“That’s your cave?” She shook her head. “I think I prefer to stay out here for the night. I don’t like confined places, and that looks awfully small.”

“It goes back fifty yards or so. You’ll be safe in there once I scrounge up some ground cover to hide the opening.” He grimaced. “I don’t like the idea any better than you do. I have a thing about closed-in places too.”