Any Thursday (Donovans of the Delta) Read online

  “It’s spectacular, Hannah.” But no less spectacular than you, he thought. Both the woman and the ocean were wild and primitive. And equally as hard to tame. What was worse, he didn’t even know why he wanted to.

  He gazed at her with naked longing.

  Turning form the view, Hannah caught the look in his eyes. Don’t look at me like that, she wanted to scream. Her hand tightened on her gun, and she made herself walk calmly to the coffeemaker. Survival was all-important to her. He’d be gone in a few days, and her life would once again get back to normal.

  “Coffee will be ready in a minute or two.” She stowed her gun, picked up the can, and started to measure out coffee. “Damn.”

  “Did you say something?”

  “I spilled coffee.”

  “I’ll help you.” He was across the room before she could protest. All her breath seemed to leave her as his hands closed over hers. “Steady hands help. Are we making six or eight cups?” His eyebrow quirked upward in question.

  “Eight. It’s going to be a long day.” She tried to pull her hands away, but he held them fast.

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  “Why should you?”

  “Because you want the same thing I do.”

  “I’ve learned to ignore my baser instincts. Perhaps you should too.”

  He threw back his head and roared with laughter. She didn’t think what she’d said was so funny, but at least it served to free her hands. She hurried away from Jim while she could. Lord deliver her from that warrior, she thought. And from her primitive instincts, she added as she swung her gaze back toward him. Never had she met a man who so completely enthralled her. He was ruthless and wicked and unscrupulous and brilliant and witty and funny and enchanting. Not to mention dangerous.

  She drew herself up and gave him her haughtiest look, the one Jacob called her Hurricane Hannah look. “Are you here to work, or what?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No.”

  “In that case, Dr. Donovan, lead me to the sweatshop.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Again they were pleasantly surprised that they worked so well together. In spite of the rocky beginning, the day went smoothly once they got their sexual frustration out of their minds. It was almost seven before they left the institute.

  “This is crazy,” Jim remarked as they stepped out into the light. “How can you stand not knowing night from day?”

  “It’s one of those things I’ve gotten accustomed to.”

  “Like doing without sex?”

  “Not that again.”

  “It will always be that with us.”

  Instead of replying, Hannah lengthened her stride so that she could get ahead of him. Putting a few feet between them helped, but not much.

  The first drop of rain took her by surprise. She’d been so busy sparring with Jim, she had broken one of the cardinal rules of a native Alaskan: Always pay attention to the sky. It was dark and heavy with storm clouds.

  The summer storm suddenly let loose with all its fury, drenching her within seconds. Thunder ricocheted off the cliffs.

  “Jim!” She whirled quickly, calling his name. The rain was coming down in opaque sheets by now. She barely could see her hand in front of her face, much less Jim. Panic seized her. What if he lost his footing on the unfamiliar path? What if he fell and broke his legs—or worse? “Jim!”

  “I’m here.” She felt herself being enfolded by his arms. “Don’t panic. I’m right here.”

  She peered up through the driving rain, trying to see his face. All she could make out were his white teeth. He was smiling.

  “I didn’t panic. I never panic. I just didn’t want you to fall off the cliff.”

  “I didn’t know you cared, love,” he said lightly.

  She cared, she thought. In spite of all reason, she cared, but she never would let him know. Pulling back slightly, she said, “Let’s get out of this storm. Follow me.”

  She led him toward a small cave that was tucked into the jagged side of the cliff. “Duck,” she ordered, “and hope we aren’t trespassing on a wild creature.”

  “There can be worse fates, Hannah.”

  The tension in his voice made her jerk around to look at him. In the dimness of the cave he was gazing at her with unmistakable desire. She was trapped. With the storm rampaging outside, she had nowhere to go. He continued watching her in that predatory way, and she felt her own passion rising. Always it was like this between them, she thought. One look, one touch, and they were engulfed in a magnificent passion.

  She inched away, scooting along the damp cave floor so that his thigh was no longer brushing against hers.

  “And what are those fates?” she asked.

  “Don’t you know?”

  His gaze fell hungrily upon her. She was no longer sure whether the furious pounding she heard was the storm outside or the raging of her own blood in her ears.

  “There could be grizzly bears in here with us instead of mountain lions. That would be considerably worse.”

  “Hmmmm.”

  “Or wolverines. They are quite vicious.” Hannah never rattled on and on the way she was now. She was furious at herself—and at Jim. “Would you please stop?”

  “Stop what?”

  “You know what.”

  “Spell it out for me, Doctor.”

  “You’re looking at me as if I’m a banquet and you haven’t eaten in a year.”

  “Is that a scientific observation, Doctor?”

  “Yes.”

  In one swift move he closed the small space between them. Nothing touched except their thighs. But for all the effect that had on Hannah, he might as well have ripped away her clothes.

  “You are so right. Thunderstorms bring out the beast in me.” Reaching out, he ran his hand gently up the back of her neck, capturing a handful of hair and watching it filter slowly through his fingers. The sensation of her silky hair against his skin never failed to arouse him. “The hungry beast.”

  Ever so slowly he circled his arms around her and lowered her to the cave floor. Her eyes were luminous in the darkness.

  Dipping his head toward hers, he murmured, “I could drown in you—and I think I will.”

  “Jim.” She made the token protest, even as her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer.

  “I’ve fought it for two days, Hannah.”

  “It’s just the storm. Alaskan storms warp the” —she caught her breath as his lips brushed across her throat— “perspective,” she managed to say as his bold tongue plunged into the V neck of her blouse and licked the hollow between her breasts.

  He worked one button loose, then another. His breathing became labored as he impatiently nudged aside the restraining bit of lace. The raging storm moved inside the cave as he pressed his hot mouth against her skin.

  Need spiraled through her, and she fought to hang on to her control. Even as she arched toward him, she told herself that she could stop this madness at any time.

  “I’ve been wanting to taste you like this since I first saw you,” he said. “You’re even better than I imagined.”

  Just a while longer, she thought.

  “Hannah!” He stretched on top of her and captured her lips. Their kissing was as frenzied as the storm.

  Mouths and legs locked, they rolled over the cave floor.

  “You are temptation . . .” she panted, “almost too great to resist.”

  “Don’t . . . resist.”

  “I must.”

  Every muscle in his body was rigid with need. Every inch of her flesh yielded to him. Their wet clothes became an enhancement rather than a barrier. The friction of denim against denim served only to fan the flames that burned them.

  “Don’t fight it, Hannah.” He reached for the waistband of her jeans. “Let it happen.”

  “No.” She put her hand on his to stop him. “Never.”

  She was no longer battling for control: She was battling for sani
ty. With his mouth on hers and his body so close, so enticing, she had long ago fallen over the edge of control.

  Why not, she asked herself. Why not give in to her needs? It would be a one-night stand. Then he’d leave. What would be the harm?

  “Hannah . . . you’re . . . my obsession.”

  And you are mine, she thought. There was the harm. There was the danger. Once would never be enough for them, for either of them.

  She struggled slowly up from her passion-drugged state. Easing her lips out of his reach, she whispered, “The storm’s over.”

  Jim’s eyes were almost black as he lifted himself on his elbows and looked down at her. “The storm will never be over for us.” He quietly buttoned her blouse. “I’m afraid it’s just beginning.”

  “You’re afraid?”

  “Yes.” He leaned against the damp cave wall and took out his pipe. “We can never belong to each other, Hannah. And I won’t settle for anything less.” He filled his pipe bowl, then took a long drag. The fragrant smoke filled the cave. “It’s more than separate careers, separate states. It’s who we are.”

  Her smile was rueful. “Two stubborn people who won’t give an inch.”

  “Precisely.”

  “I followed you all the way up here and discovered, not much to my surprise, that you’re the same untamed independent wildcat I meet in Greenville. I guess I was old-fashioned enough to believe the cliché that absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “Some hearts aren’t meant to grow fond.”

  He sent a ring of smoke into the air before he responded. “Every heart is meant to grow fond.”

  “Not this one.” She leaned her head against the cave wall and studied him. “I believe you’re a romantic, Jim.”

  “The last of the great ones.” He turned his piercing gaze toward her. “But you’re no cynic, Hannah. You’re a woman waiting for the right man.”

  “No, I’m not waiting.

  “Yes. And when you find him, you won’t let anything stand in your way—not differences and not stubbornness.”

  She closed her eyes and inhaled the fragrant smoke of his pipe. The smell was soothing to her. There in the dark shelter of the cave with the rain quietly nourishing the land, she felt a great need to confess.

  “It’s more than that, Jim,” she said softly. “It’s more than our differences and our stubbornness. I’m afraid.”

  He removed his pipe and studied her. The naked vulnerability of her face shocked him. For once in your life, Jim Roman, he cautioned himself, squelch your smart tongue.

  “I’m listening, Hannah.”

  “I know this is going to sound crazy—it has to do with my being a twin. There’s a strange bond between Hallie and me. When she hurts, I hurt. When she cries, I cry.”

  From his background research before the wedding, Jim knew something of Hallie’s history. Premonition made the back of his neck tingle.

  “And when she fails, you fail?” Hannah looked at him in astonishment. “You’re talking about her first marriage, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would it surprise you to know that I’m afraid too?”

  “The intrepid warrior?”

  “Not so intrepid. Not in matters of the heart. You see, my father left my mother when I was very young, too young to understand. Mother is a wonderful woman. I can only blame him. And yet he’s my father. What kind of man leaves his wife in poverty? What flaws did Brick Roman have? And am I like him?”

  Hannah reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Jim.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “I think you can never be like him.”

  “That’s reassuring, Doctor.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but nevertheless he held on to her hand. Touch was a powerful comfort. He’d sensed this compassion in Hannah, but he’d never known it firsthand. In spite of her stubbornness and independence, Hannah was a fine woman.

  Hannah smiled at him. “We’re not half bad together when we try, are we?”

  “Not half bad,” he agreed.

  Jim began to hope that when he fell in love, the woman would turn out to be somebody almost exactly like Hannah.

  And Hannah began to hope.

  o0o

  They held hands all the way back to the cabin.

  Almost self-consciously, Hannah let go.

  “I—” Suddenly she fell silent and looked around the small cabin. Being there with him was too intimate, especially after the shared passion and the shared confidences of the cave. “I haven’t run my dogs since you came. I think I’ll take them out.”

  Jim knew what she was doing. “It’s probably best. I have to wrap up this story, and you would prove a powerful distraction.”

  “If you’re working when I get back, I’ll just tiptoe up the stairs and try not to bother you.”

  “Great.”

  He stared at the door for three minutes after she’d gone. He’d come back to the fire and been burned again, he thought. But this time it was different. He was leaving with a heart burdened not only with unfulfilled passion but with knowledge. Hannah was afraid and vulnerable. He never would take advantage of that. If she hadn’t confessed . . . if he hadn’t confessed . . .

  Angrily he cast those thoughts aside. His best course of action was to finish his story and get out, put the whole episode behind him, chalk it up as experience.

  He set up his typewriter and rolled in a sheet of paper. For a while the blankness was his enemy. Then slowly his brain switched into overdrive, and he settled back for the ride. His last conscious thought was that someday things might change for them.

  He was hardly aware of her coming in and slipping up the stairs.

  o0o

  Jim woke up before Hannah.

  There was an eerie quiet in the cabin, a stillness that was peculiar to the predawn hours. He lay perfectly still in his sleeping bag. Above him, in the loft, Hannah turned on her bed and moaned softly in her sleep. The sound drove a small wedge into Jim’s heart.

  His story was finished. There was no longer any reason for him to stay in Glacier Bay. He rose quietly from his sleeping bag and stood gazing upward. Every inch of his flesh yearned for Hannah.

  Quietly he escaped out the door. Pete rose from his lookout on the front porch and trotted over to him. He was even going to miss her dog, he thought as he leaned down to scratch behind Pete’s ears.

  Go, the voice of reason said to him. Go now before it’s too late. Too late for what he could only imagine. Too late before they hurt each other the way his father had hurt his mother? Too late before they discovered that they’d compromised their careers for the sake of passion? Too late before he felt smothered in a wilderness that barely had running water?

  He didn’t know. All he knew was that the time had come for him to leave. And he’d do it without fanfare. It would be less painful that way—for both of them.

  The dog followed him down the front steps and stood alertly by as Jim did something he hadn’t done since he was seven years old: He picked a bouquet of flowers.

  o0o

  Hannah was still asleep when he climbed the stairs to her loft. She was curled on her side with her cheek cuddled into her right palm. In the blush of dawn she looked as dewy and fresh as the maiden flowers in his hand.

  He leaned down and carefully placed the white flowers on her pillow. A drop of dew fell from the petals onto her cheek. It glistened there like a single bright tear. He held his breath as her eyelashes fluttered. He didn’t want her to see him there. When Hannah awakened, he wanted her to see nothing except the tiny white flowers, their petals shining with dew.

  She gave a soft sigh and settled back into her dreams. Her lips curved into a tender smile. Jim tiptoed back down the stairs and quietly began to pack.

  o0o

  When Hannah awakened, the first thing she realized was that she’d slept later than usual. She started to fling back the covers when she felt the damp softness near her hand. The bouquet of white maide
n flowers lay beside her.

  Smiling, she lifted them to her face, feeling the dew and inhaling the perfume. She swung her feet off the side of her bed and called softly, “Jim?”

  There was no answer. It wasn’t like him to be up and about so early, she thought. For the past four days she’d always been the first up, always been the one to awaken him. She sat very quietly, listening for the sounds of the shower. There were none.

  “Jim?” She called louder this time, but her only answer was silence.

  A small fear turned into a full-fledged case of panic. The flowers fluttered to her pillow as she grabbed her robe and plunged down the stairs. His bedroll was gone, his typewriter was gone, his bag was gone.

  When she burst through her front door, she didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Jim was leaning against a post, looking out over the bay, smoking his pipe. He turned at the sound of her footsteps.

  “Did you get my flowers?”

  She put her hand over her heart to still its panicked beating. “I thought you had gone.”

  “I thought about it. When I placed the flowers on your pillow, I meant to let that be my farewell.” He tamped out his pipe and stuck it into his pocket. “I don’t like goodbyes.”

  “No. I remember. You don’t.”

  She clutched her bathrobe around her neck to give her hands something to do. Jim was leaving, she thought. He had meant to leave as casually as he had in Greenville. She’d survived another invasion of the West Coast Warrior. Or had she? Her mind swung back to the cave, then to the tiny bouquet of maiden flowers on her pillow.

  “But when I saw you there” —he took one step toward her, then stopped— “so beautiful and innocent-looking.” He advanced another step, then another, and finally he was approaching her with a purpose. “I knew I could never leave you.”

  He swept her against his chest and tipped her face upward.

  “Never?” she whispered.

  “Not without saying goodbye.”

  His lips took hers savagely, as if he could deny the goodbye with the fierceness of his kiss. She matched his passion with a fire of her own. For three days she’d worked beside this man, denying herself the pleasures of loving him, concentrating all her energies on helping him get a superb story. And now he was leaving, and there was no longer any need for pretense.