Rub It In (7 page)

Her laughter eased, but even as her gaze connected with his again her body continued to quiver with fettered mirth. “No, I don’t think I do.”

Pushing herself up from the ground, she grasped the blanket that he still knelt on and yanked against it. It barely budged, but that didn’t stop her from trying again.

Simon rose and watched as she folded it, making sure each corner matched and the final product was perfectly square. Stuffing the blanket in, she zipped her pack and moved to fling it over her shoulder. Reaching out, he snagged it from the air. Her body jerked against the unexpected weight as the pack fell suspended between them.

Using it to reel her closer, Simon stepped into her space. His eyes snagged on her mouth and he did nothing to hide his fascination. He watched as her lips jerked, almost parting, before she clamped them into a tight line.

Slowly he let his gaze travel up to her eyes. He stared at her, watching as emotions flitted through the bright blue centers. She was fighting a war that she couldn’t win. But he knew she was damn well going to try.

And that was going to be part of the fun.

While he’d never been one to look a gift horse—or willing woman—in the mouth, there was something about Marcy that stirred more than just his libido. This push-and-pull thing that they had going excited him in a way nothing else had in a very long time.

Not even his work. And that cost him a lot to admit.

“You want me, Marcy. Why don’t you save us both a lot of misery and just admit it?”

He didn’t touch her. He didn’t try to influence her. He wanted this to be her decision, her capitulation.

Licking her lips, she said, “What woman wouldn’t? You’re sexy as hell and you know it. You use your charm and those laid-back bedroom eyes like weapons. But you’ve never used them on me. Why now?”

She would ask that. She would want to understand all the angles, to analyze and inspect and pick apart the options and reasons before making a decision.

“We’re here. You don’t work for me anymore… .”

Her decision flashed through her eyes long before it left her lips, but that was all the encouragement Simon needed. He reached for her, jerking her full-length against his body.

In his arms she felt small and delicate. There was a disconnect between his perception of her and the reality. She wasn’t fragile, but it was easy to forget just how tiny she really was.

He dived in and devoured her. Their mouths met and melted together. He’d expected their first real kiss would have an edge of aggression, as their words usually did. He was wrong.

There was heat and urgency. Need. His tongue scraped against hers, shooting sparks through his entire body. Her gasp of surprise blasted against his open mouth. She tasted like oranges, chocolate and lavender all mixed together.

His hand fisted at the nape of her neck, dragging her head back so he could get more. With the other, he grasped her waist and pulled her up his body. She wrapped her legs firmly around his waist, anchoring them together and, more important, telling him she wanted this just as much as he did.

Her palms pressed against his chest, curling in and urging him closer. She ripped her head out of his hold, squeezing her thighs to push herself higher up his body. She was looming over him, and for the first time since he’d met her, he had to tip his head back to keep up with her.

She pushed in and took what she wanted. Her fingers grasped the side of his head and held him as she matched him thrust for thrust, the heat of her mouth over his as devastating as anything he’d ever experienced before.

He should have expected her to be as much of an aggressor with sex as she was with everything else. Although it actually surprised him. He was used to women taking a backseat and letting him lead. It was sort of exhilarating and liberating to have her fight him for control.

But he wasn’t about to give in. Taking several steps, he set her back against the closest tree. Shade, a cool breeze and anticipation had a shudder quaking through him.

She made a tiny sound in the back of her throat that he swallowed, the first piece of her he planned to claim. With the weight of her body resting against the trunk, his hands were free to explore. Pushing against the hem of her shirt, they scraped up the soft skin of her belly.

Her muscles jumped beneath his touch.

She writhed against him, the apex of her open thighs pressing tight to his aching erection. Denim had never seemed so thick and annoying in his life. He leaned into her, pinning her hips hard against the tree, looking for relief.

“Simon.”

The radio he’d been forced to bring with him, since he was apparently in charge, squawked at his hip. He ignored it. Or tried to.

Dragging his hands higher, he wanted to cup her breasts, to fill his palms with her soft round curves. He never made it. She stopped him, slamming her own hands over his with the thin layer of her shirt between them.

Pulling back, she looked at him. “Are you going to get that?” Her words were breathy. Her lungs worked hard beneath his palms, her ribs expanding and contracting in a tantalizing way that made his hand slip against her skin.

“No.” Was she crazy? Whatever catastrophe Xavier wanted to tell him about could wait. For an hour. Or maybe until tomorrow if he had his way.

“Simon!”

The screech was louder, and somewhere behind them it echoed.

With her legs still wrapped tight around his waist, the tempting center of her sex pressed against his throbbing cock, she raised a single eyebrow. Her blond hair, in complete disarray thanks to his desperate fingers, clouded around her disapproving face.

With a sigh he extricated a hand—but only one—and reached for the radio at his hip. Pressing the button, he growled, “This better be important.”

Marcy’s eyes flashed. He rocked his hips against her and relished her soft gasp and the way the azure depths clouded with passion once again.

But they didn’t stay that way. Not when Xavier’s voice floated between them.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“I hope so, or you’re about to get fired.”

Marcy’s lips twisted.

“Apparently the construction crew managed to get water on the main electrical panel.”

“Holy crap,” he muttered. “Are they completely incompetent?”

He realized it was the wrong thing to say, because Marcy began to squirm against him—and not in a good way. She was no longer overcome by passion. She wanted down. Now.

She pushed against his shoulders and dropped her legs from around his waist. Her body hung suspended between him and the tree, her toes dangling at least half a foot off the ground.

Damn it. With a frown of his own, he wrapped an arm around her waist and lowered her gently to the ground. So much for picking up where they’d left off. Although he wasn’t about to just let her walk away.

Keeping her tight against his body, he asked, “What’s the damage?”

“One of the crew was shocked, but he seems to be okay. Dazed.”

That didn’t seem so bad. Not that he wanted anyone injured, but if the man was conscious, it couldn’t be life-threatening. Unfortunately, their on-staff doctor had left with most of the employees.

Xavier’s voice crackled again through the connection. “And somehow a small electrical fire started. I’ve implemented fire protocol, but most of the staff is gone.”

Before Xavier could even finish, Marcy was jerking out of Simon’s hold. Grabbing her abandoned pack, she flung it over her shoulder and started down the path at a fast clip. Simon was right on her heels.

From out of nowhere another radio appeared in her hand. It was a nice trick, although Simon assumed it had been in her pack and was probably the source of the echo he’d heard. Not the cavern of the falls as he’d assumed.

“Xavier, how big is the fire? What buildings are in danger? Is someone getting the pumper truck?”

“Not big. Luckily, the panel is at the back of the main building and so far the only thing on fire is a small shed. I’ve called for the truck…but it won’t do us much good. The water’s out, remember.”

Simon let out a long line of expletives. Could this get any worse?

“Oh, and the power’s out all over the resort.”

Why had he asked?

7

S
HE
’
D
NEVER
SEEN
S
IMON
move so quickly. His long legs ate up ground and he quickly passed her on the trail back to the resort. A hike that had taken her almost thirty minutes took ten at the fastest sprint she’d ever done. And still she arrived in the middle of the chaos minutes after Simon had.

Along the way, she’d heard him instruct Xavier to hook up the truck to the reservoir system that was still functioning. Unfortunately, that meant the truck was limited in how far the hose could reach. And by the time they’d gotten everything hooked up, the shed was completely engulfed.

It held discarded furniture, decorations and pieces that weren’t used but were still in decent shape and worth keeping. No one would be devastated by the loss. The biggest concern was the proximity of the flames to the main hotel building. If that caught fire…it would be bad. Their normal emergency response team was severely limited.

The few employees left on the island crowded around, trying to pitch in and help as best they could. Xavier stood at the end of the powerful hose, his legs spread wide and his weight grounded as he fought to keep the water trained where they needed it most.

Soot and sparks shot into the air, forming a dangerous dark cloud above them. Red-orange flames licked relentlessly up all four sides of the shed, devouring the worn wood with a crackle and hiss.

And Simon was in the thick of it.

Marcy watched as he issued instructions to the people standing around. With a few terse words he had order evolving out of the chaos. Another team hooked up a second hose to the truck and began spraying the side of the main building.

Two more men jumped in line behind Xavier, making it easier to control the powerful stream of water blasting the building.

Her heart thumped erratically against her chest when Simon rushed toward the fire. “What are you doing?” she shouted just as he slipped around the far side of the shed, way too close to the fingers of the fire for her comfort.

Idiot! She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but she didn’t. He wouldn’t hear her anyway above the noise of the truck and the sizzle of the flames. What the hell was he doing? There was nothing important enough in that shed to risk his life for.

Her feet followed him anyway. She wasn’t even conscious of deciding to do it—she just moved steadily closer to the shed. Heat blasted her body as a breeze gusted through the narrow passageway between the two buildings. It was functioning as a wind tunnel, funneling oxygen to the greedy fire.

Shouting to Xavier, she told him to concentrate the water on the wall closest to the main building. The shed was a complete loss, but hopefully they could contain the damage.

Ashes and tiny pieces of charred wood rained over her head and shoulders. Squinting her eyes against the heat and blazing light, Marcy tried to find Simon.

“Simon!”

He yelled at her. She thought he told her to get back, but she ignored him. Walking farther into the passageway between the buildings, she finally saw him through the haze of smoke. He was crouched close to the ground. She couldn’t see what he was next to, but it was definitely a dark shape.

She almost yelled at him then. Until she saw the shape move and realized it was someone, not just something. Two someones. From the construction crew. One was stretched out on the ground, the other crouching behind Simon next to him.

The electrical box was only a few feet away. The man on the ground must have been the one shocked.

How had Simon known they were back here? By the time she’d arrived, the smoke had been too thick to see them.

Simon threw her a dark glance when she fell down beside him. She ignored it. He could be angry with her later when the fire was out and they knew the man would be fine.

She was relieved to see that his eyes were open and his chest was rising and falling steadily. Turning to her, Simon ordered her, “Go. We’re right behind you.” Scooping the man up into his arms, Simon waited until she and the other man were dashing ahead of him before following.

Marcy glanced back over her shoulder several times, just to make sure he was there. Even in a crouch, staying low to the ground where the smoke wasn’t as thick and carrying a two-hundred-pound man, Simon could haul ass. Their little knot burst through the end of the passageway and the small group of people around them cheered.

The panic that had been almost palpable when they’d arrived eased. The flames licking at the shed had diminished. Three sides were now only smoldering, thick curls of smoke rolling up from the jagged edges of the damp wood. The fourth side would be joining them shortly if Xavier had anything to say about it.

Marcy was impressed with how he’d handled the crisis, and if she’d still been in charge would have offered him a raise on the spot. But she wasn’t.

From his position on the hose, he hollered over to Simon, “MedFlight should be here shortly. How’s he doing?”

Simon grunted and laid the man gently on the soft grass away from the smoke and flames. “Okay, but I’m not taking any chances.”

Frowning, Simon looked up into the sky. As if he’d conjured them, the steady
thwap, thwap, thwap
of rotor blades joined the noise around them. Leaning over to one of the restaurant staff, he shouted something in her ear. With a nod, she burst out across the resort, directing the helicopter to the closest patch of open ground big enough for it to land.

Xavier kept the stream of water directed at the still-smoking building as the force of the downdraft pushed another burst of oxygen-rich air across the fire zone. Whether because of that or the daring glare that Xavier directed at the structure, the flames stayed down.

One man stooped low beneath the spinning blades and dashed across the resort toward the cluster of people. A couple of bags were slung over his shoulders. The equipment looked as if it weighed a ton, but his body barely reacted to the stress of it.

Two more men followed behind, a stretcher between them. They crouched and worked, assessing and preparing the man for transport to the hospital. As they were getting ready to leave, one of them came over to Simon.

“We didn’t get the call that there was a fire here, just the electrical shock. Do you need me to radio in for reinforcements from St. Lucia?”

Looking across at Xavier, Simon waited for a shake of his head before declining the offer. “I think we have it handled, but thanks.”

With a nod, the man rushed after the rest of the crew. Once the stretcher was strapped in, the chopper lifted off. Marcy turned her face away from the tiny pieces of debris that lashed her.

Simon wrapped his arms around her and turned her so that her face was buried against his chest. Ducking his own head, he rested his cheek on her hair.

He smelled of soot and man. His shirt was damp, but she burrowed closer to him anyway. Her body started to shake. She knew it was just a delayed reaction to everything that had happened, her muscles revolting against the stress and the flood of adrenaline that was quickly receding.

But she couldn’t stop it.

She wasn’t cold. Not really. But her teeth began to chatter anyway.

Simon must have felt it, because he pulled away, holding her at arm’s length as he looked at her. His eyes, intent and focused, studied her face. Without looking away he shouted, “Xavier, you got everything under control?”

“Yep, we’re all good. Fire’s out. I’ll keep someone on watch through the night for hot spots, but I don’t expect any.”

“Great” was Simon’s only response. With a sweep of his arms, he picked her up and cradled her against his body.

Marcy sputtered, but the protest she wanted to make died on her lips.

This was a side of Simon she’d never seen. One that intrigued and—if she was honest with herself—aroused her. Where was the laid-back surf god she’d been butting heads with for the past two years? Had he been kidnapped by tree sprites and held hostage in the jungle?

The man holding her in his arms was commanding, no-nonsense and completely capable. Not that that last one really surprised her. She’d always known a capable businessman lurked beneath that jovial, joking facade. That’s what had frustrated her so much.

He could give a damn—he just chose not to. As far as she was concerned, that was a complete waste of his potential. And nothing bothered her more than to watch something useful go unused.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, finally breaking the charged silence that had settled between them.

“Where do you think?” He bit out the words through stiff jaws.

He was upset. She thought she knew why but decided, in light of this new side to Simon, she wasn’t going to act on the assumption. Probably better to wait for solid ground.

Turning sharply, he headed for the main entrance to the hotel. “To get cleaned up?” she said hopefully.

A humorless chuckle rumbled through his body. She could feel the vibrations of it roll through her like the reverberations from a plucked guitar string. They rekindled the burning need that the crisis had dampened.

Better than the teeth chattering.

Pushing through the front door, he let it slam behind them. The cool interior of the building was dark and a few steps inside only the weakest light remained. Outside, she realized, it was late afternoon, but inside it felt closer to dusk.

“No water, remember. And by the time we can stop pouring water over that building, chances are the reservoir will be dry.”

Marcy cursed, but there wasn’t any heat behind her words. Sure, a shower would be nice, but that would mean he’d have to put her down. She didn’t want to examine too closely why that idea didn’t appeal to her right now.

He strode through the building, heading for the stairs. Taking them two at a time, he began the climb up four flights. She could feel the powerful surge of his muscles as they bunched and moved beneath her.

Looking down at her arms tangled tightly around Simon’s neck, she realized they were dirty. Dark patches of soot covered her upper arms. Trails of naked skin peeked through where stray drops of water had fallen and rolled down.

She was nasty.

Looking up into his face, she realized she wasn’t the only one covered in soot. Streaks of it ran down over his forehead and cheeks. The sharp tang of burning wood clung to their skin.

He was filthy.

She didn’t care.

The vision of him running beside that burning building burst through her mind. Another surge of adrenaline accompanied it.

Letting go with one hand, she used it to smack his shoulder.

Stopping midstride, his eyebrows crashing together, he said, “Ow! What was that for?”

They were halfway up, perched on the landing for the third floor. His voice echoed through the confined space, bouncing all around them.

“That was for being stupid and heading into the fire.”

His expression cleared and a knowing grin twitched at the corners of his lips.

Continuing their climb, he argued, “I didn’t head into the fire.”

“Semantics. You were close enough to be burned. Or overcome by smoke inhalation. How did you know they were back there, anyway?”

“One of the crew told me when I arrived. At first they thought it was safer to leave him there until the helicopter came. But then the fire spread and the smoke shifted, cutting off the passageway. They were about to go in after them and I told them to wait.”

“So that you could play hero yourself.”

“Because I already had one man down, possibly two, that I was responsible for. I wasn’t about to let two more follow.”

Damn. She had seriously underestimated this man.

Something in the center of her chest swelled, but before she could analyze it, Simon was kicking open the stairway door to the top floor.

Anticipation, desire and apprehension swirled through her, a dangerous combination that was uncomfortable and energizing at the same time. She had no illusions as to why Simon was carrying her into his apartments. They’d started something in the jungle, and despite the interruption, he had every intention of following through and finishing it.

And if she wasn’t sure about that she needed to decide now. Before he overwhelmed her senses again and logical thought became impossible.

She opened her mouth to say something, although she honestly wasn’t sure what, but he cut her off.

“And while we’re on the subject, what kind of incompetent work crew did you hire? First they break the main waterline. Then they get one of their men injured and start an electrical fire. Really, Marcy, is that what you call doing a good job?”

He stared down at her. Despite the fact that his eyes were hard and direct, she could still see the glimmer of passion lurking in the back.

“Excuse me? I’m damn good at my job.”

Simon opened his door, then pushed it closed with the heel of his shoe behind them. Instead of moving straight to the bedroom as she’d expected, he stopped in the middle of his living room. Still holding her in his arms, he stood there.