Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (43 page)

“Nervous?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Anxious to get back,” she said
evasively. Just being around Dallas was difficult; she felt she was always walking an emotional tightrope.

“Already she wants to get rid of me,” he mocked.

Chandra laughed a little. “It's the baby. I wonder how he's doing,” she replied, though the infant was only part of the reason. She needed to find her equilibrium again, something that proved impossible when she was with Dallas.

“I'll bet he's screaming for breakfast, or—” he made a big show of checking his watch “—or lunch. Demanding food seems to be what he does best.”

Chandra glanced at the doctor, caught the sparkle in his eyes and was forced to smile. She relaxed a little, her spirits lifting with the morning sun as it rose higher in the sky.

Once they'd parked near the river, they checked the equipment one last time, shoved the raft into the frigid water and hopped in. The current was lazy near the shore, but as the craft drifted to the middle of the river, the stream picked up speed, narrowing as the current turned upon itself and the surge of white water filled the canyon.

The raft plunged into the first set of rapids, and the river became a torrent that curled around rocks and the shore. Chandra, jaw set, narrowed her eyes on the familiar stretch of water, shifting her weight and using her paddles against the primal force of the river.

Over the deafening roar of the water, Chandra shouted orders to Dallas, who responded quickly, expertly, his shoulders bunched, his eyes glued to the frothy water and rocks stretching before them.

He moved as they approached a rock, and they skidded past the slick, dark surface. Chandra bit her lower lip. Downstream, Ridgeback Ripples foamed in furious waves, and Chandra braced herself for the pitch and roll
that would occur as they rounded the dead tree that had fallen into the river.

She managed to steer clear of the fallen pine, avoiding the part of the stream that swirled near the blackened, dead branches. The water was clear, the rocks below shimmering gold and black. She shoved in her paddle, intending to move into deeper water.

“Watch out!” Dallas yelled.

Too late! The raft hit a snag in the water and responded by spinning, faster and faster, out of control. Water thrashed over the side. Chandra paddled more firmly.

The raft plunged deep, then bobbed up again, bucking wildly, out of control.

Hang in there,
she told herself, refusing to lose her calm. They rammed a large rock and pitched forward. Chandra fell against the inflated side. Before she could get up on her knees again, the raft, still spinning, hit a shoal and buckled, flipping over.

“Hold on!” Chandra screamed as she was pitched overboard. Roaring ice-cold water poured over her in a deluge, forcing its way down her throat. Sputtering, she couldn't see, but reached out instinctively, grabbing hold of the capsized raft.

Dallas! Where was he? Oh, God! She surfaced, pulled by the drag of the current as it whisked the overturned raft downriver. Water rushed everywhere. “Dallas!” she yelled, coughing and looking around her as she tried vainly to tread water. Trees along the bank flashed by, and the sun, still bright, spangled the water, the light harsh against her eyes.

She didn't see him.

Come on, Dallas, come on. Show yourself.
She looked upriver and down, searching for some sign of him as she was carried along with the current. “Dallas!” she screamed. Oh, Lord, was he trapped beneath the raft?
Trying to grab on to a rock with her free hand, she scraped her arm. If she could only stop and look for him! Her heart pumped. She gasped in lungfuls of air and water. Adrenaline surged through her blood, bringing with it fear for the man she'd only recently met.
Where was he?

If she'd inadvertently hurt him…

“Dallas!” she screamed again, just as the rapids rounded a bend and dumped into a relatively calm pool. She flipped the raft over, half expecting him to be caught beneath the yellow rubber.

Nothing.

Oh, God. Please don't let him drown! She couldn't lose someone in her care again…someone who had trusted her with his life…someone she'd begun to care about. “Dallas!” she screamed, her voice growing hoarse as she shouted over the roar of the river. “Oh, God, Dallas!” Her heart dived, and she struggled until she found a toehold where she could stand and scan the river as it roared by in fierce torrents. Coughing, her teeth chattering, she prayed she'd see him, his lifejacket keeping him afloat, his helmet preventing a head injury. “Come on, Dallas…please!” The river flowed past in swift retribution. “Dallas!” she yelled again, her voice catching in fear.
Think, Chandra, think! You know what to do!
She wouldn't just stand here. She'd had survival training, and she'd find him. He had to be alive—he had to! But fear kept her rooted to the spot, drew her eyes to the dark and suddenly evil-looking river.

She forced her legs to move with the current, knowing that he would have been swept downstream—

“Hey! Chandra!”

His voice boomed, and she turned to find him waving his arms on the shore at a bend in the river. He was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. Wet, bedraggled but grinning, he shouted her name again. Relief brought tears to her eyes, and she nearly fell on her knees and wept
openly. Instead, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks. To think that he might have drowned…oh, God.

Still dragging the raft, she sloshed through the shallow water near the shore, wading toward him, and he, grinning sheepishly, slogged upstream. They met in waist-deep water, their lips blue, water running from the helmets and down their necks. Without thinking, Chandra flung her arms around him, wanting to feel his heartbeat, the strength of his body.

His arms, as sturdy as steel, surrounded her, drawing her close, and for a second in the frigid water, they forgot all propriety. She wanted to laugh and cry, scream in frustration and kiss him, all at the same time. Relief poured through her. Her senses, already charged by the fear that had stolen into her heart, filled with him. He smelled of the river, but his touch was warm and electric. He smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek, as if he, too, were savoring this moment when they were both alive. Her heart wrenched and her throat clogged. She pounded a fist against his chest. “You scared me half to death,” she said, drawing her head back to stare up at him.

“It was my fault.”

“Yours?” Shaking her head, she wouldn't let him take the blame. “No way. I was in charge. I shouldn't have let her capsize.”

“But I steered the raft into the snag—”

“The current did that. It was my job to avoid the situation.” Suddenly weak, she sighed and, ripping off her helmet, tossed the hair from her eyes, spraying his chest with icy pellets of water. “I'm just glad you're in one piece.” His arms tightened a little, and when she glanced up at him again, her breath caught in her throat. His gaze, blue and intense, drilled deeply into hers. He, too, removed his helmet and cast it beside hers on the rocks of the shore.

“I'm glad you're in one piece, too,” he said, his breath warm against her chilled skin. He lowered his head and kissed her, his cold lips molding to hers, his hands drawing her so close, she could scarcely breathe.

His tongue pressed lightly against her teeth and she responded, her heart soaring that they'd both survived the accident. Her mind, usually calm and rational, was now fuzzy with emotions she didn't want to dissect. She lost herself in his touch and the smell of his clean, wet skin. Clinging to him, her breasts flattened against the hard wall of his chest, she thought of nothing save his touch and the tingling of her skin whenever their bodies pressed close against each other.

He slid his hands across her back, and through her wet shirt she felt the warmth of him. He scaled her ribs with gentle fingers and slowly eased a palm over her breast.

She gasped, and he kissed her harder, his tongue plunging deep as his fingers moved insistently beneath the top of her swim suit, to her nipple, stroking the already hard peak until her entire breast ached.

The cold seeped away. The water rushing past their knees and slapping their thighs didn't exist. Chandra was only aware of Dallas, his kiss and the expert touch of his hands on her flesh.

She shivered deep inside as desire crept through her blood. Moaning, she wound her arms around his neck, her own tongue searching and tasting, delving and flicking.

He groaned in response and slid downward, moving his hands slowly to her buttocks, kissing the column of her throat.

Chandra sucked in her breath and he pressed his warm face against her abdomen before he pulled down her vest and suit and then rimmed her nipple with his tongue.

“Oooh,” she whispered over the rush of wild water. Her fingers twisted in his hair as he suckled. Between the cold
air and the warmth of his body, Chandra was suspended in tingling emotions that wouldn't lie still. She knew she should stop this madness, but couldn't. His body, hard and anxious, demanded exactly what hers wanted so desperately.

When he drew his mouth from hers, he gazed up at her and shook his head. “What're we going to do about this?” he wondered aloud, obviously as perplexed with the situation as she was.

“I don't know.”

He slowly covered her breasts and stood, his arms still surrounding her. “Overused phrases like ‘take it slow' or ‘one step at a time' seem the appropriate thing to say, but I'm not sure slow is possible with you. And I'm sure it isn't with me.” He sighed loudly in frustration. “You turn me inside out, Ms. Hill,” he admitted, “and I don't think this is the time in my life for that kind of imbalance.”

“Imbalance?” she repeated, shivering. “I'm causing you an imbalance?” Shaking her head, she turned back to the raft. “Well, we certainly wouldn't want to mess around with your well-ordered life, Dr. O'Rourke,” she said, her anger rising. “It's not like I planned this, either, you know. It just happened!”

She was suddenly angry, and wondered if her fury was aimed mostly at herself. “Let's just forget this happened and get on with the trip.”

“I don't know if I can.”

She'd been reaching for the rope when his voice arrested her. Turning, she found him still standing in the river, his features thoughtful, almost disbelieving, as if something were happening to him that he couldn't control.

She cleared her throat. “We only have about a mile of river left, then we can pack up. You can go your way and I can go mine. And trust me, I won't try to imbalance your
life again. Just make sure your brother doesn't buy you another expedition, okay?”

She grabbed his helmet off the beach and tossed it to him, then strapped hers on. “Let's get this over with.”

“You're the boss.”

“Right. So get in and we'll shove off!”

They both climbed into the raft, and Chandra, determined to be professional, guided them downstream. They didn't say another word, though a few blistering phrases leapt to Chandra's mind. She'd love to tell Dr. O'Rourke what she really thought of his attitude.

She didn't like being played with, and yet, every time he kissed her, she hadn't stopped him—hadn't been able to. Her traitorous body seemed to tingle with anticipation at his touch, and that thought alone disgusted her.

He was just a man! How many times did she have to remind herself of that one simple fact? She hazarded a glance in his direction and took comfort in the fact that he seemed as irritated and out of sorts as she was. And she consoled herself that he wasn't immune to her.

The raft glided around the final bend in the river. Chandra, feeling a mixture of relief and sadness, spied her truck parked beneath the tree. Soon, this wretched, lovely trip would be over.

Dallas saw the play of emotions on Chandra's face. She barked orders at him as he helped her drag the raft out of the water and lash it across the top of her rig. Silently, still wondering what the hell he was going to do with her, he admired how quickly and efficiently she worked, her arms tanned and strong, her fingers sure as she tied square knots and half hitches, and stored the gear in the back of her Suburban.

She moved with the natural grace and assuredness of an athlete, and yet her femininity was impossible to ignore. Her legs were supple and tanned, her buttocks round and
firm, and her breasts, hidden beneath several layers, were soft, fleshy mounds that fit so perfectly in his palms.

But more intriguingly feminine than her obvious physical attributes was the sparkle of green in her gray eyes, the lift of her lips when she smiled, the arrogant toss of her hair over her shoulders. Chandra Hill was used to dealing out authority, probably from her year or two in medical school. He wondered how she could have ever given up medicine. Maybe she hadn't been able to afford the schooling. She claimed that she'd found out once she'd enrolled that she wasn't cut out to be a doctor, but he doubted that story. Chandra Hill seemed to be a woman who set goals for herself and then went about attaining them, no matter what the odds.

Somehow, guiding the idle rich down a dangerous stretch of water paled when compared with the ecstasy of saving a life. There were downsides to being a doctor, and tragedies that were impossible to ignore, but he'd learned to live with those, and he couldn't imagine giving up his livelihood as a physician. He'd rather cut off his right arm.

“That's it,” she said, opening the driver's side of her truck. Dallas slid into the sunbaked interior and rolled down his window. He propped his elbow on the window frame as she started the truck and headed up the mountain road in a plume of dust. Reaching into the compartment between the two bucket seats, Chandra found a pair of sunglasses—ostensibly to replace those she lost during the rafting excursion—and set the shaded lenses across her nose. “Well, what d'ya think? Ready to go out again?”