Diana Palmer Collected 1-6: Soldier of Fortune / Tender Stranger / Enamored / Mystery Man / Rawhide and Lace / Unlikely Lover. Diana Palmer
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“Does this…help the ache?” he asked as he bent to her breasts.
She moaned. It was impossible not to, when she felt the warm moistness of his lips eating her. She didn’t have a mind left after the first two seconds. She was hardly aware that he was lifting her onto the bed.
He made a meal of her body, tasting, touching, looking at it, broad daylight streaming in the windows, while she gloried in the luxury of being married and enjoyed his pleasure in her.
“I love looking at your body,” he said quietly, sitting beside her. His hands swept up and down, lingering on her soft curves. “I love touching it. Tasting it. I’ve never seen anything half so lovely.”
“My husband,” she whispered.
He looked up. “My wife.”
Her body ached, and she knew he must feel the same longing she did. Her eyes asked a question, but he slowly shook his head.
“I won’t do that to you,” he said curtly. “Not ever will I take my pleasure and not give a thought to yours.”
She ground her teeth together to stop the tears.
“And it isn’t pity,” he said, glaring at the look in her eyes. “I do nothing out of pity, least of all marry because of it. So you can stop looking at me that way. I want you and I’m getting irritable because I can’t have you. So suppose you put on the bathing suit and I’ll go have that damned cold shower and we’ll swim.”
He got up and she lay there, watching him as he discarded his clothing. Her lips parted as the last of the clothing came off, and she saw the urgency of his desire.
His body trembled as he looked at her, and she wanted to cry because of the torment she saw in his face.
“You said once…that there are…other ways,” she ventured to ask. “Are there?”
His face hardened; his eyes glittered wildly. “Yes.”
She held out her arms, her body throbbing, her blood running like a river in flood as she sensed that violence of his hunger. He hesitated only for a second before he came down beside her.
* * *
The days passed with miserable speed. They did everything together. They swam and talked, although always about general things rather than personal ones; they danced and sampled new delicacies at the dinner table. And at night he loved her. Sometimes in the early morning. Once on the bathroom floor because the strength of their desire hadn’t left them time to get to bed. Sometimes he remembered precautions, but mostly he didn’t, because his desire matched her own. She walked around in a sensual haze that blinded her to the future. But eventually, the day came when they had to look past Veracruz. It came suddenly, and too soon.
The last day of their stay dawned unwelcomed, and Dani packed with a long face. She’d changed her plans so she could be with Dutch for his whole vacation, but at the end of the week he told her that he had a job waiting and couldn’t spare any more time. She stared at him across the room as he got his own clothing together, wondering how dangerous his line of work was. A soldier, he’d said. Did that mean he was in the reserves? Probably, she told herself. That was why he wouldn’t mind moving to Greenville.
She’d thought about that a lot, about picking up stakes and moving to Chicago. It wouldn’t matter, although she’d miss Harriett and her friends from the bookstore. She’d have followed him anywhere. When she realized how little time they’d had together, she could hardly believe that so much had happened so quickly. It seemed like a lifetime ago that the taciturn blond giant had dropped down beside her on the airplane. And now he was her husband. Her husband, about whom she knew so little.
He seemed to feel her puzzled frown, and turned. Then he smiled at her. “Ready?” he asked as he picked up his duffel bag.
“Ready,” she agreed. She drew her two bags up to where his were sitting by the door.
He glared at the smaller one and sighed. “You and your books.” He chuckled softly down at her. “Well, at least now you know what they’re all about, don’t you?” he added.
She cleared her throat, reddening as she recalled the long, sweet nights. “Oh, yes, indeed I do, Mr. van Meer,” she agreed fervently.
“No regrets, Dani?” he asked softly.
She shook her head. “Not if this were the last day of my life,” she said. “And you?”
“I’m only sorry we met so late in life,” he replied, searching her face. “I’m glad we found each other.” He checked his watch. It was an expensive one, with dials and numbers that meant nothing to Dani. “We’d better rush or we’ll miss our flight.”
Dutch had made the reservation for the two of them and they had adjoining seats. She sat beside him with her heart in her throat, smiling at him with hopeless hero worship. He was so handsome. And hers. Harriett really wasn’t going to believe this.
He glanced down at her, still amazed that he had a wife. J.D. and Gabby would be shocked, he thought. And Apollo and First Shirt, Semson and Drago and Laremos would never let him hear the end of it. Dutch, married. It was incredible, even to him. But it felt nice.
It was Gabby’s influence, probably, he admitted to himself. He’d heard so much about her from J.D. even before he’d met her that some of his old prejudices against women had slackened. Not much, but a little. Gabby had trekked through a commando-infested jungle for J.D. and even risked her own life to save him from a bullet. He glanced again at his companion with narrowed dark eyes. Would she do that for him? Did she really possess the fiery spirit he sensed beneath her timid manners? And how was she going to react when she learned the truth about him? That hadn’t bothered him for the past few days, but it bothered him now. A lot. His gaze went to the bag of romance novels tucked under her pretty feet. Fluff, he thought contemptuously, and a smile touched his firm mouth as he thought how nearly like fiction some of his exploits might seem to the woman beside him.
Dani saw him starting at her books and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Well, we can’t all conquer the Amazon,” she muttered.
His eyebrows shot up. “What?” He laughed.
“You were giving my books contemptuous glares,” she said. “And if you’re thinking it’s all mushy nonsense, you might be surprised.” She fished down and held up a book with a cover that featured a man armed with an automatic weapon. There was a jungle setting behind him and woman beside him.
Dutch blinked. Automatically, his hand reached for the book and he scowled as he flipped through it and glanced over the blurb on the back of the book jacket. The novel was about two photojournalists, trapped together in a Central American country during a revolution.
“Not what you expected?” she asked.
He lifted his eyes and studied her. “No.”
She took the book from his hand СКАЧАТЬ