Carla Cassidy - Lost In His Arms

“I don’t think it’s a search helicopter,” he said. “I believe we’re in for a storm.”

As the first fat raindrops fell from the sky and splattered on her upturned face, Elizabeth glared at her companion. “I think I hate you, Talbot McCarthy,” she stated emphatically.

“Trust me, Elizabeth, before this is all over with, I believe the feeling just might become mutual.”

T albot had never felt so out of his element. The rain fell steadily for about an hour, effectively dousing any lingering embers that might have still been burning on the plane and getting them wet enough to be miserable.

Fortunately the storm moved on, leaving behind a profound darkness and a silence broken only by the sounds of their breathing.

“No search party will be coming tonight, will they.” Elizabeth’s soft voice broke the silence.

He considered lying to her to ease her mind, but realized honesty was smarter. “I doubt if anyone will begin a search tonight.” What he didn’t tell her was that he doubted anyone would begin a search tomorrow, either. No, he’d save all the gruesome details for later.

“So we’re stuck out here for the night.” Her voice held a strange tension. It didn’t seem to be anger, but rather something deeper, something darker.

“If a search party doesn’t show up first thing in the morning, we can probably walk someplace for help.” Talbot also didn’t mention the fact that he had no idea if he’d be able to walk by morning. His knee throbbed clear down to the bone, and he knew he’d aggravated the old football injury that had, at one time, given him major problems.

“So, all we can do now is sit here in the dark.” Again that same tone colored her voice.

Talbot wished for just a spark of light, a tiny illumination that would make her features visible. “I know it isn’t going to be the most comfortable night you’ve ever spent, but there don’t seem to be any alternatives.”

She didn’t speak for a long moment, but he felt the pressure of her shoulder against his. “I don’t like the dark,” she murmured.

Fear. That was what he heard in her voice, and it astonished him. The cool, always together, always competent Elizabeth McCarthy was scared of the dark. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said.

He felt her stiffen in protest. “I am not afraid. I just don’t like the dark.” Still, she didn’t inch away from him, but remained with her shoulder firmly touching his.

He didn’t believe her protest. She was afraid of the dark. Amazing. One of the things he’d told himself he disliked about her was that she was always in control, always seemed so incredibly strong and efficient.

Someplace deep inside, Talbot had always believed that maybe if she had been a little less strong, a little more needy, then perhaps Richard would have had to mature and accept more responsibility in their marriage.

He found himself wondering what other weaknesses she might possess, and that he entertained any kind of interest in her at all irritated him.

As far as he was concerned, she was the devil in lipstick, a forbidden temptation sent to test his will-power. And yet he couldn’t help but be a bit curious. “So how long have you had a phobia about the dark?” he asked.

“It isn’t a phobia,” she said, then sighed and raked a hand through her hair, causing it to tumble against his shoulder.

He stiffened, fighting the urge to reach up and touch a strand, to see if it was as soft, as silky as it looked. “I think the best thing we can do is get some sleep. I’m sure things will look brighter in the morning.”

“Somehow I’m not counting on it,” she said softly.

They were the last words they spoke to each other that night.

Talbot tried to make himself comfortable, but the adrenaline that had filled him from the moment he’d realized the plane was going down refused to dissipate enough to allow sleep to overtake him.

He could tell Elizabeth was also having trouble winding down. She squirmed and wriggled next to him, but never allowed her shoulder to stop touching his. As time passed, her wriggling slowed, and he knew she had fallen asleep when her head lolled to his shoulder and she slumped fully against him.

His first instinct was to shove her off him. He didn’t want to feel her provocative body warmth against him, didn’t want to smell the faint scent of sweet ripened strawberries that wafted from her hair. But he had to admit her body warmth felt good as the night grew chillier.

He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, knowing it was possible he would need all his wits, all his energy to face the morning.

If they were lucky, they would either be found by somebody who’d seen the plane go down or discover some small town nearby.

If they were incredibly unlucky, they would find themselves in the middle of a forest with nobody around for miles. And the way their luck seemed to be running, that was what worried him.

What if he couldn’t walk well enough to find help?

He smiled wryly. Of course, as competent as Elizabeth had always been, she could probably construct a litter from tree branches and pull him out of the forest. This was the last conscious thought he had before sleep finally claimed him.

He awoke with the dawn, for a moment completely disoriented. Before he even opened his eyes, his mind worked to orient him. A warm female form was curled up in his arms, and his nose was filled with the scent of strawberries.

As he drew a deep breath, he remembered. The crash…Elizabeth…the forest. His eyes snapped open and he saw that at some point during the night, their bodies had not only sought the soft, leaf-covered ground, but also each other’s.

Her face was turned toward his, and he took the opportunity to study her with the glow of dawn seeping through the trees.

He easily understood why Richard had been so enthralled with her. She was lovely, with sinfully thick lashes and a full, inviting mouth that urged a man to plunder its depths.

Her skin was the color of a barely browned biscuit, with natural peach in either cheek. As he stared at her, his finger itched to caress the skin on her cheek, lightly touch her slightly plump bottom lip. He wanted her. He’d wanted her for years, and in that desire had been his shame.

Richard’s wife. Richard’s woman.

With these disturbing thoughts in mind, he disentangled himself from her and sat up. In doing so, he woke her. She stirred and groaned, then sat up and shoved her lioness-colored hair away from her face.

“Ohmigosh. I feel like somebody beat me up all night,” she said as she stood and stretched, arms overhead.

Talbot frowned, his gaze drawn to her T-shirt, which had crept up to expose a flat, tanned abdomen. Relief flooded him as she put her hands down and the shirt fell back to where it belonged.

He followed her gaze as she looked around their surroundings and felt her horror as she saw the wreckage that now marred the serene forest floor. She crossed her arms and hugged her shoulders, and he guessed it wasn’t the coolness of the morning, but rather the evidence of their close call that caused her to visibly shiver.

“Hard to believe we both walked away, isn’t it?” he said.

She nodded, then turned back to look at him. “How’s your knee?”

“It’ll be all right,” he replied, oddly touched that she’d asked.

“Good, because if a search party doesn’t show up soon, we may have to hike out of here.”

He frowned irritably. He should have known she’d only asked about his knee because she wanted to make sure he didn’t hold her back. “We shouldn’t do anything too soon. It’s just a few minutes after dawn. We’ll stay here with the plane for a couple of hours at least.”

He could tell she didn’t like that idea, that she was ready for action now. And he could guess by the worried frown that marred the smooth skin of her forehead that she was probably thinking of Richard and Andrew.

“They’re probably back at your apartment by now,” he said as he struggled to his feet. “I’m sure Richard returned to Kansas City when you didn’t show up in Twin Oaks last night.” His knee screamed in protest as he attempted to put weight on it. He braced himself against a tree.

“You really think so?” The frown that had wrinkled her brow disappeared, and earnest hope shone from those big blue eyes.

Despite her face and clothes being dirty, her hair tangled and decorated with bits of leaves, she looked beautiful. For a brief moment Talbot wanted to take her in his arms, smell that sweet scent that emanated from her and ease away any of her worries by kissing those luscious lips.

The inexplicable tension in Talbot rose to a new level. “Richard might be a lot of things, but he’s always been a good father,” he said, his voice sounding harsh even to his own ears.

She stared at him, obviously surprised by his outburst. “You must be hungry,” she said. “Richard used to get surly when he was hungry.”

He’d expected her to answer his anger with some of her own. Her response momentarily left his speechless. When the ability to speak returned, he eyed her wryly. “I am hungry,” he agreed. “Maybe you could forage around in the forest and serve us up a nice breakfast of berries and roots.”

She ignored his sarcasm and, instead, eyed what was left of the plane. “If I could find my overnight case—and it survived the fire—I have a bag of corn chips and an apple in it. Surely that would hold us until the search party finds us.”

The anger he’d tried so hard to feel, the anger he needed to feel toward her abandoned him. Her gaze once again went to the wreckage wedged between the two trees. “Do you think my suitcase is still there somewhere?”

“I doubt it. If I was to guess, your case is someplace between here and the first place we hit the trees.” He shoved himself away from the tree. “We can take a look and see what we find.”

She nodded and set off walking at a brisk pace. He stumbled after her, trying to suck up the pain that ripped through his knee with each step. He’d rather suffer than allow her to see any weakness.

They hadn’t gone very far when she turned back to him. She stopped walking and placed her hands on her hips. “Sit down,” she commanded.

“I’m all right,” he protested.

“Yeah, sure. Walking always makes you break out in a sweat.” She strode purposefully to where he stood and placed herself under his arm. “I don’t want you to blame me when you’re permanently crippled because you went chasing after my suitcase,” she said as she led him to a tree.

Reluctantly he sat, knowing it was useless to pretend he wasn’t in pain. “Maybe if I stay off it a bit longer…” His voice trailed off in frustration.

“I’m perfectly capable of foraging on my own.” Once again she set off walking away from him.

Talbot watched her, reluctantly admiring the length of her shapely legs, the slight wiggle of her slender hips. He wasn’t surprised that she was handling the situation rather well.

She’d always had the kind of self-confidence that intimidated men. At least, most men. She certainly didn’t intimidate him.

He rubbed his knee, realizing that as long as he stayed off it, pain wasn’t an issue. Unfortunately there was no doubt in his mind that eventually he was going to have to get up and walk out of here.

As he continued to massage the sides of his kneecap, he frowned, listening to the silence that surrounded him. There was noise—birds called from the tops of trees, and here and there the leaves rustled as squirrels jumped from limb to limb. But these weren’t the sounds Talbot most wanted to hear.