Melt (8 page)

He nodded slowly. “You won’t even be able to lift a paintbrush.”

“Better not do it, then.” She lifted her shoulders. “Given the reason I’m here is to wield that paintbrush.”

“You’re such a chicken,” he taunted.

“Don’t start with the once-in-a-lifetime thing. The whole ‘it’ll be just for fun’ argument. I’m not going to sleep with you.” But she might manage a little something.

He didn’t miss a beat. “I didn’t say anything about
sleeping
.” He held up his hands, immediately surrendering, laughing at the instant-death look she gave him. “Yeah, that was lame.”

“It was.” But how could she resist—he looked so damn delicious when he laughed like that.

His amusement softened as he watched her as closely as she was him—as relentless…seeking out the signals, sending them. “Okay, so we’re not having sex.” His words whispered over her skin. “But what about another kiss?”

She couldn’t break the spell, couldn’t resist the temptation in his eyes.

“No harm in just a kiss, is there?” he murmured.

There’d been harm from that first already—there’d been sleepless nights and a merciless ache. “You’re such a guy,” she said, falling on her weakest argument. “Can’t think about anything else.”

“Yes, I am a guy and right now… Nope, can’t think of another thing. I’d prefer it if I could, but that’s why I’m trying to deal with it.”

“This is dealing with it?”

“No, this is preliminary negotiations.”

“I’m not negotiating.”

“I think I can get you to the table.”

Emma swallowed. “No to the table.” Despite the swallow, it still came out hoarse.

He chuckled. “You’re such a liar.”

“Am not.”

“You’re kidding yourself that you don’t feel this.”

“Of course I feel it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.”

“Not all the way, but why not another kiss? It might be really bad this time—we might bump noses or knock teeth. We might not feel anything.”

As if. She was feeling it already and this time the guy was half
naked
.

“If I kiss you, will you shut up and go away?” The fire was burning through her veins now. She wasn’t completely crazy—she had one night left. This might be her last chance to kiss him.

“There we are,” he whispered. “At the table already.”

“Will you shut up and go away?” she persisted.

“You shut up,” he breathed.

His hands were on her hips, drawing her closer. The laughter in his eyes made it impossible to resist. Oh, he was wicked.

“And
you’re
the one going away.” He threw the sucker punch.

“Tomorrow.” She tilted her head back so she could keep looking into his beautiful eyes.

“Which leaves one night.” He brought his mouth within a whisper of hers.

“One kiss.”

She closed her eyes as his lips softly skimmed hers. She opened to meet him—one, two soft brushes of lip to lip. But this was no kiss. This was enchantment. This was him hurtling her down a path from which she’d never return. Never want to return.

Different from easy lust, from an easy thrill—this was naked, endless passion.

Already, she couldn’t think. There was only the feel of him. She ran her hands from his shoulders down his arms. Strong arms, used to physical work. And then the hot, gloriously bare skin of his chest. Her fingertips sizzled as she explored the hard, fine strength of him.

She leaned forward, and he took her invitation. Tightening his arms, pulling her closer. He took a step, pinning her against the wall. The weight of him pressing into her was glorious.

Between kisses, she murmured, “This is you liberating me?”

“Hell yes.” He nipped down the side of her neck until she shivered. “Now be quiet.”

Being quiet wasn’t going to be easy. She wanted to moan. She wanted to call to him. But she was too breathless.

She got his attention back to her hungry mouth by pulling on his hair. Tugging hard.

His expression went wolfish. “Be careful what you ask for,” he growled.

“Just the kiss.”

He slid his hand to her breast, teasing her nipple with firm fingers. A low sound of amusement at the quiver in her voice. “Sure, just the kiss.”

She leaned forward and smothered his laughter with her lips. His clung and dominated in a second. Yes, he liked to lead a kiss.

But she was hungry. She sucked on his tongue as he explored her mouth. Primal need rippled powerfully within her. The drive to reach for release with him inside her became her only goal. She wanted his ultimate possession. She writhed against him, her instincts working to unleash his. To make it as necessary for him as it already was to her that they finish what had been started.

Any notion of stopping after just one kiss had long since left her.

She arched, pushing her hips toward his. In response, he pressed his whole length against her—moving with hard, forceful thrusts. She knew then that she’d get what she wanted, and she pulled back from the kiss and smiled at him.

She heard his sharp intake of breath, the mutter of something she didn’t catch. He was shaking his head back and forth, and her breath caught. He wouldn’t stop now, would he? She smacked her hand flat on his hot skin. Beneath his rapidly rising and falling chest, his heart slammed. His hips remained locked against hers. His gaze equally imprisoned. Both his and her pulses roared in her ears. Final resistance faded. As if he couldn’t fight it any more than she, he bent and kissed her again.

So much pleasure. She moaned as he teased her—with one hand at her breast, the other on her hip—sweeping over the curve of her butt. She rotated, frustrated because she couldn’t part her legs as wide as she wanted, because she was clothed, because he wasn’t there already. Damn it, she wanted to lie down and have him mount her like they were animals in a frenzy.

Oh yeah, it was all animal now.

She caught his grin and knew he understood her want and was amused. She grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing him utterly, carnally—doing to his mouth what she wanted his body to do to hers. Taking him hard and deep and relentlessly.

His hand moved between them, rubbing that little bit rougher, and she nearly lost it then and there, jeans and all. He pushed her harder against the wall, demanding, seeking the signs of her willingness.

She was more than willing. She pushed right back—using the wall as leverage to arch her breasts and pelvis into him, circling her hips against his hot erection.

His hand worked at the fastening of her jeans as she nipped at his lips. Yes, she wanted him to touch her there, bare. She wanted—

“Hunter, can we borrow you? Oh, sorry.”

Whoever it was who’d walked in coughed and said “um” a couple of times.

Emma froze in place, hoping Hunter mostly hid her. Their eyes met for a moment—his were wildly blue. She watched him draw a couple of controlled breaths and give her a little nod.

“Sure, that’s fine. Be there in a sec.” He slowly eased back, taking a deep, steadying breath, and grabbed his tee from the floor and yanked it back on. “What do you need?” he called over his shoulder, using the time to adjust his jeans. He pulled his shirt low enough to hide the proof that he’d wanted her as much as she him. With a final hard look at Emma, he turned and walked to the door where the other guy waited.

“Your engineering brain.” The guy was out in the corridor already. “There’s a problem in one of the pump stations.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Still using the wall to help her stand, Emma couldn’t move. At the doorway, Hunter turned and looked at her for a heart-stopping micro-moment.

“Catch you later,” he said.

Emma got his double meaning and nodded. Seemingly satisfied with her response, Hunter left.

She stood in that room for a good five minutes after they’d gone. It took that long for her breathing to stabilize—and for her to control the searing disappointment that threatened her equilibrium more.

So now she knew. One kiss had her begging for everything—for more than he or anyone else would ever want to give her.

Her pulse slowed, and intrinsic self-preservation instincts flared back into place right beneath her skin. This couldn’t go any further or she’d be crushed.

Anger filled the void as desire fled. She fixed her clothes and wondered what job it was he’d gone to with his
engineering
brain. She’d suspected he wasn’t a builder full-time—he’d all but admitted it when he’d said he was one of those who’d do whatever to get a trip to the ice and engineering made sense. But she’d had to learn that from a snatch of conversation? From a
stranger
?

Hunter might flirt like a professional, but he was more isolated than the Antarctic pole of inaccessibility—the most remote, most challenging place to reach on this continent. Yeah, that was Hunter. And she shouldn’t have nodded to him. Better for her to clean up and satisfy a completely different hunger. She was starving. She’d go comfort eat.

In the mess, she sat with Lily and focused on the pile of food in front of her.

“You know, Hunter didn’t mix with anyone when he was here last summer, and he was on the ice for four months,” Lily said.

“Really?” Emma tried not to sound too fascinated—and failed.

Lily shook her head. “Not his style. Not until
this
summer. Of course, a ton of women at the big base tried to persuade him…” She giggled but broke off and reached out to touch Emma’s sleeve. “Shame you’re leaving tomorrow. You’re going to miss the Christmas dinner.”

“I have family I need to get back to,” Emma explained. She badly wanted to get back to see Grandma Bea—and there was another reason she needed to get away from here now. That tall, blue-eyed, handsome man who made her smile so easily.

But now Lily’s observation circled around her head like a plane attempting to drop vital supplies. She pushed her plate away. Was he really not such a super stud? Actually, she could believe it. She’d seen him move closer to her when other women came near him in the mess or in the bar. He’d used her to deflect their attention. And he’d been the one to step back fully despite the flirt winks and tease talk.

So maybe he truly didn’t want to mess around down here? And yet there was no denying the way they’d combusted in the storeroom earlier. She shivered at the memory now branded in her brain. Yes, she wanted him—big time.

The aching need in her body and the fear in her soul threatened to tear her in two. She waivered with her decision again. And wanted to see him.

But Hunter didn’t reappear in the lounge at all that evening. Seconds, minutes, hours ticked by, until she was completely strung out.

She headed to her bunkroom. It was too late. He’d probably gone to bed, and she could hardly bang on his door and wake his bunkroom buddy. She couldn’t drag him to one of those lockable saunas, either. It was probably for the best. Of course it was.

That didn’t help the ache any.

She pushed back the curtain and lay in her bunk, looking out the window, so sorry her time here was at an end. Totally regretting not diving into bed with him from the first night. She knew she’d read the earlier question in his eyes right. But he, too, must have changed his mind.

What a fool she’d been.

CHAPTER FIVE

EMMA WOKE, disoriented and jaded. Bright light wasn’t shining through the window and for a second she thought she must have closed the curtain. But she hadn’t. She blinked as she looked through the glass, hoping that blinding glare would return. It didn’t. It was just a dim white out there—she couldn’t even see the building next door. And then there was the noise.

She sat up in a rush, suddenly realizing what that meant. She threw on her clothes and ran to find someone—knowing the mess would be the most likely place to find people at this hour.

And he was there. He put his toast down and came straight over to her. “I’m sorry.”

“That wind?”

“Really bad storm.” He nodded. “Apparently they weren’t expecting it so soon, but this is Antarctica, you know?”

Yeah. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“No flights today.” His face creased into a concerned look. “And there’re none tomorrow. The earliest you’re getting out is Boxing Day.”

She wasn’t going to be with Grandma Bea. “Oh no.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “You really wanted to be with her this Christmas.”

“She’s getting old.” And she was the only family Emma had. “I’m not like you; I don’t want to be isolated at Christmas. I don’t want
her
to be isolated.”

His arm dropped. “I’m really sorry.”

Any other time and she’d be thrilled to have an extra couple of days down here, but she owed that woman her life. Grandma Bea had saved her from hitting the skids so many times and now she was old and alone? At Christmas? The woman who’d devoted so much of her life to helping kids? That just wasn’t right.

“Can you call her?” Hunter asked when he came into the lounge at coffee time.

“I already have. She laughed about it and said not to worry.” Emma didn’t move from the chair she was curled up in. Typical Grandma Bea—hardy and independent—but Emma hated to let her down, hated to think of her alone. Bea had been a short-term foster parent—taking in kids for only a few days at times of emergency. Most of the kids she’d helped probably wouldn’t even remember the two or three nights they’d stayed with her.

It had only been because no one else would take her that Emma had gone to her in the first place. Once she got there, Emma had refused to leave. Bea had let her stay. She was the only person who’d shown Emma that kind of caring.

“Does she have someone else to check in on her?”

Emma nodded. “She said Ashe had been round.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess.”

She nodded halfheartedly.

“You know they have the big Christmas dinner tonight, instead of tomorrow?”

She nodded with even less enthusiasm. “I don’t want to go.” Stupid as it was, she didn’t want to celebrate Christmas with strangers. She’d had to do that in the past when she’d gone through her foster home phase before Grandma Bea’s. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“They have the craziest dress-up box here. Just borrow something. Lily will help you.”

“Maybe I could help her in the kitchen?” Emma suddenly sat up. “I could do the dishes or something, and Lily could have the night off?”

He studied her with a serious expression. “I’m on kitchen detail. I volunteered as soon as we got here. So you’d have to work some more with me. That okay with you?”

Emma’s blood drummed as she pretended to think about it. “I guess I can put up with it.” She couldn’t hold back a slight smile. “You really don’t like Christmas, do you?”

He just shook his head.

…

She ended up helping out in the kitchen most of the morning. Her path crossed Hunter’s a few times, but she sensed a guarded aura emanating from him. Surely he didn’t regret what had happened last night?

But at late coffee time, he found her and she took the chance to ask some of the questions she’d chosen to avoid until now. Because now she knew there was no point trying to fight her interest in him. That battle was totally lost.

“You’re not really a carpenter.” She took a sip of the steaming brew.

“I know my way around a tool box.”

“Yeah, but you’re something else.”

“Civil engineer,” he admitted with a nod.

“Whereabouts?”

“Wherever I’m needed.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I go from project to project. I go into disaster zones when they hit the reconstruction phase.”

Disaster zones?

“As in like earthquakes and floods and stuff,” he explained.

Emma blinked. That was hardcore. “Tell me more.”

He drew a breath. “The primary goal is to enable the local people to rebuild their homes and towns themselves. But every place is different. It’s always uncertain, and change is rapid.” He shrugged. “So we have to design and build to the unique environments and the requirements of the people and place. Re-establish some kind of normal.”

Emma mulled over what she knew to be the “spiel” he probably gave people all over the world. Why she was stunned she didn’t know—the guy was tough and strong, but he was also funny and
kind
. He’d helped her get in touch with Grandma Bea, and he’d been concerned for her welfare when she’d been sore from painting. It made total sense that he had a “save the world” type job.

It also made her fall even harder for him.

“So you have no permanent base?” Somehow that idea didn’t surprise her—but it sure made her heart ache.

“I guess New York would be it,” he said. “But I’m really only in and out for a few days. I keep most of my things in a storage facility.”

Yes, all his precious things were locked away—including his heart.

Everyone finished work an hour or so early on Christmas Eve to get ready for the evening. Emma had lied in her earlier grump to Hunter—she did have something to wear. So now she showered and dressed in the one skirt she’d brought with her—a cute black A-line number—topping it with a clean white fitted tee. It felt good to go feminine again; she’d missed her skirts after two weeks of overalls. She tied her hair back into a ponytail and wound a bit of tinsel around it—she’d pilfered the sparkle from the decorations in the lounge. Rubbing glossy balm on her lips, she got to thinking of the one thing she’d been trying very hard not to think of all day.

That one real benefit to her prolonged stay.

Another two nights near Hunter. The sensual memory of last night still sizzled along her nerves. She was a mess of frustration—aching to be back in his arms, aching to be beneath his body. She wanted the experience of a lifetime that she knew he’d give. And nothing else mattered.

There were no promises from him. He’d offered no false declarations of adoration. He’d just admitted his attraction to her and the simple desire to be with her. There was absolutely no prospect of any future. There was only the present.

Her Christmas present.

…

Hunter was in the kitchen already when she got there. He glanced up and froze, his gaze locking on her lips. She waited for his focus to lift and his eyes to meet hers. Blue irises shone brilliantly but his pupils were huge, black, and bottomless. And as she watched, she saw the faintest color surge across his cheekbones—was the guy blushing?

She would have put on a little war paint before if she’d known it would affect him this much.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked him directly.

His lips twisted in a tormented kind of smile. “Dessert.”

There were no fresh berries to top the Pavlova—they’d been coming on that last flight in, the one she was supposed to have gone out on.

“Use grated chocolate instead. And we have some kiwifruit somewhere.” The cook was flying around the galley.

“No problem.” Emma washed her hands.

Hunter stood beside her, humming as he chopped the chocolate for her.

Emma turned and stared, stunned. “Are you humming ‘White Christmas’?”

“I’m thinking it’s one of the pros about you being stuck here. You’re guaranteed a White Christmas. Being a New Zealander, you’ve probably never had one before.”

“No, I haven’t.” Christmas had always been a warm summer’s day.

“And I bet you’ve never had real eggnog before, either.”

“No, that’s not one of our things.”

He flashed a killer smile at her. “Get ready for an American-style Christmas, then.”

And so it was that in between food prep and decoration, serving up and then clearing what seemed like a million dishes, Hunter Wilson put on an American Christmas for her. Well, he put on an American Christmas soundtrack to their kitchen duty.

Emma had never laughed so much in all her life as he invented new lyrics to old Christmas tunes, hung a popcorn lei around her neck, and danced her around the bench.

At one point he kept glancing upward.

“What are you looking for?”

“The mistletoe.” He winked. “Can’t believe none of the stuff grows down here!”

“You’re crazy.” She giggled, not shifting his hand from where it was comfortably curved around her hip.

After dinner, they were called through to the lounge.

“There’s something we all have to do.” The base boss was up at the front. “Everyone follow me, please.”

All fifty of the people on the base followed single file to the new laboratory. Emma broke into a sweat when she saw they’d hung a cloth over her painting.

“We didn’t get to do this earlier because of the problems with the conditions, but it means we can do it now.” He smiled at Emma. “Want to unveil it?”

No, she didn’t, but in front of all these people she had no choice. She stepped forward and took down the fabric hiding her mural.

As soon as she did, the gasps and the applause burst out behind her. She closed her eyes for a second before turning back to face them. People were already swarming forward to shake her hand and congratulate her. Her heart soared as she saw their smiles and genuine enthusiasm for her work. She’d given them pleasure and earned their admiration. She was so thrilled they liked it.

She walked back to the mess sandwiched in a throng of people, but there was a bonus to how tall Hunter was. She met his gaze over all their heads and bathed in the warmth of his smile.

But back in the mess, her emotions seesawed again when she realized there was a Secret Santa thing going on. Of course, she wasn’t supposed to be there, so she had nothing to give anyone. She felt terrible, especially when there was a package with her name on it. The guy dressed as Santa gave it to her, but it was to Hunter that she instinctively glanced again.

“I think one of Santa’s elves got busy for you,” he murmured.

Emma stared at the small wrapped parcel and willed her silly emotions to get back under her control.

“You’re supposed to open it,” Hunter nudged.

Yes, but she didn’t often get presents. Now she couldn’t decide whether to rip it open or go slowly. In the end she went for slow, carefully removing the tape so as not to ruin the bright colored paper and to draw out the sweetness of the moment. Finally, she lifted back the paper and gazed at the tiny gift. He’d carved a solid Hägglund out of wood and painted it. It was no bigger than the palm of her hand.

“I know you were disappointed you didn’t get to drive one here.” He looked a little embarrassed.

She didn’t know what to say.

He smiled, his brows lifting in one of his roguish, irresistible moves.

And at that moment, any lingering defense was shattered. She stepped closer to him. “I have a present for you, too.”

“You do?” he asked quickly, a faint note of surprise lifting his tone.

“You need to come to my room to collect it, though.”

“Really?” His gaze sharpened and he stepped closer. “You can’t give it to me here?” he asked, dropping to a low, almost breathless, whisper.

She glanced around at the crowd now singing “Jingle Bells” with gusto. “No.” She smiled slowly. “You’re going to have to come with me.”

“I am?” The corner of his mouth quirked. “Should I come quickly, then?”

“No,” she admonished with a laugh. “You can take your sweet time, but I promise you’ll get there.”

His cheeks were flushed again and he drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to have to get out of here now.”

“I’ll meet you at my bunkroom in five.”

Emma was so glad Bridget was having Christmas out at her field camp—it meant she still had the bunkroom to herself.

She stopped in at the bathroom, smothering her laughter as she scooped up a handful of those free condoms that Hunter had shown her were supplied there. But she had no pockets with this skirt. Damn. Still, it was Kiwi ingenuity that had seen a New Zealander be first to the South Pole. She giggled as she put the packets down the front of her knickers. This was crazy, she knew, but it was so
right
.

When she got back to her room, he was leaning against her door. Silent, watchful, serious. She wanted the super flirt back.