Blazing Bedtime Anthology Page 3

“Sorry. That was rude. It’s not a name you often hear.”

  “My mother was a book-inhaling romantic.”

  That was putting it mildly. Her father had walked out on them both before Scarlett was even born. And her mother had retreated into a complete fantasy world, believing he would someday come riding back on a white steed, after fulfilling whatever glorious quest must have drawn him away.

  Personally, if she were her mother and the man ever did come back, Scarlett would greet him with a closed fist, not open arms.

  “Ah. I half wondered if you were on the run or somethin’.”

  “On the run?”

  “Well, you were out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “So were you.”

  “I was camping.”

  “In a swamp?” she asked.

  “Forget it,” he said. “Just be glad I was there.”

  She nodded, conceding the point. “This doesn’t seem like a hospital, Hunter.” She liked the way his name tasted on her lips. It was sexy. A little dangerous.

  Which pretty well described her current situation, didn’t it? Nearly naked, vulnerable, with a complete stranger. And still overwhelmingly aroused.

  Dangerous. Sexy. Oh, yeah, it fit.

  “No. Like I said, I was camping and my truck was miles away. It would have taken too long to get you out.”

  “You sure know how to pick your camping sites,” she said, unable to resist. That need to get the last word in had always driven her mother nuts. And her exes.

  He ignored her. “You were unconscious. It was easier to bring you here and take care of you than try to carry you through the bayou in the middle of the night.”

  Here. Where was here? She glanced around, moving slowly since her head hurt. Though, honestly, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as she would expect after being knocked unconscious in a car crash. And her confusion merely grew.

  The low lighting didn’t allow for a thorough inspection, but she did realize at once that she was in a spacious, one-room cabin. The rough-hewn log walls and unfinished pine floor made that clear. It was obviously a very rustic one judging by the hanging lantern providing the only illumination. No electricity.

  But as she’d already noted, the bed was incredibly comfortable, the coverings on it as soft as any 500-thread count sheets she’d ever owned. Interesting accommodations: luxurious sheets, no power.

  Then she noticed the single door that must lead out, meaning there was probably no indoor plumbing. An outhouse? Oh, wonderful.

  “What is this place?”

  “Just a hunting cabin in the woods,” he said. “I knew there were first aid supplies here…”

  “Not to mention aphrodisiac tea.” Which still had her in its grip, given the way the muscles of her legs kept clenching and releasing, and her body still thrummed beneath the sheets.

  He said nothing, watching her from the shadows a few feet away. Her eyes had adjusted, so she could now roughly make out the shape of his face and the gleam of his eyes.

  Not enough, though.

  “That’s an occasional side effect,” he admitted. “But it’s also a very good pain reliever. I only gave you a few spoonfuls. Are you feelin’ better?”

  She did a little shoulder roll and carefully turned her head from side to side. To her surprise, the pain was diminishing and her arm didn’t fall entirely out of its socket as it had felt on the verge of doing only minutes ago. And the fuzziness in her brain was completely gone. In fact, she felt more wide awake now than she usually did after a full night’s sleep.

  “Yes, I am.” She glanced toward the wall again, wondering what time it was, but a heavy cloth covered what appeared to be the only window. “How long have I been unconscious?”

  “About an hour. It’s around midnight.”

  Midnight. She had finished buying Granny’s guilty pleasures and left town at seven. The drive to her grandmother’s place usually took no more than two hours. The math didn’t work. “That can’t be.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, I’m missing a good couple of hours.”

  He said something under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Driving through the woods can make time seem…flexible.”

  She grunted in disbelief.

  “I’m not lying. See?” He stepped closer and extended his arm, showing her the face of the plain watch on his left wrist. She noted the time, but was more interested in the visible strength of his hand and forearm.

  Then she looked up at the rest of him. And was way more interested in that.

  She’d sensed he was sexy and dangerous. She just hadn’t expected that he’d be so damned handsome he’d nearly make her heart stop beating in her chest.

  His shaggy, shoulder-length hair was light brown, maybe dark blond, shot with streaks of gold that glittered in the soft light thrown from the lantern. His deep-set eyes were green, a vivid, deep jungle green. His hollowed cheeks were lightly whiskered, as was his strong, jutting chin. The mouth was the only soft-looking thing about the man, and she suddenly wondered how much more devastating he’d be when he smiled.

  Right now, there was no smile on hint of a those lips. Nor did any humor linger in his eyes. He was intense, on alert, his whole body held stiff, as if he was ready to leap into action at the slightest provocation.

  She could definitely think of some action she’d like this man to leap into. And if she hadn’t been beaten up so badly by a vicious beast disguised as an airbag, she’d consider provoking him.

  “See? Midnight.”

  He must not have noticed the dumb, glazed way she’d been staring at his gorgeous face. That was good. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the drool, either.

  Even though her mind grew more sharp and clear by the second, physically she felt pretty banged up. Yet it didn’t matter. She didn’t know if it was that tea or his big, hard body, or the fact that she hadn’t been touched intimately by a man in months, or that she was a woman who really liked sex—or all of the above…she was ready to pull him down on top of her.

  Thinking about it, she realized her chest and collarbones probably wouldn’t appreciate his weight. So maybe she’d pull him down and roll on top of him.

  You’re crazy. She was lusting over a complete stranger, who’d taken her to a remote cabin in the middle of nowhere, stripped her and admitted he’d had his hands all over her.

  Mmm. Those big hands all over her.

  As if finally noticing that she was staring at him as if he was an ice cream sundae and she a diet-deprived housewife, he stepped back. The shadows wrapped around him once more, though now that she’d laid eyes on him her mind filled in all the spaces she couldn’t see. And all the ones she hadn’t yet seen. Especially because, from here, his body looked just as delicious as the rest of him.

  “It’s the tea,” he said flatly.

  Damn. The man was a mind reader.

  “It’ll keep you awake and pretty much pain-free all night. And that, uh, side effect will wear off soon.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “For a writer, you’re not a good liar, Ms. Templeton.”

  Double damn. He had recognized her. “You know who I am?”

  He nodded. “It took me a few minutes. The name sounded familiar. I saw your picture on a poster at a bookstore once. You write books for kids, right?”

  Probably not the kind he imagined. “For the most part.”

  “Are people going to be looking for you?”

  In a normal situation, if she felt in any way threatened, she would have snapped, “Hell, yes, the National Guard will be out searching for me by now, buster.”

  But she didn’t.

  “No.”

  “Okay.” He stepped across the room, lifted the heavy curtain and peered out into the night. “Look, I have to go out for a little while.”

  Her jaw dropped. “At midnight?”

  “You’ll be fine,” he insisted. “There’
s more tea on the table beside you if you start hurting again, but try not to drink too much.”

  “I’ll pass, thanks. I’ve had quite enough of the side effects. Don’t you have a bottle of aspirin lying around?” She always did. Of course, hers was in her purse, which was in her car, which was now resting at the bottom of a swamp.

  Wow. Her insurance agent was not going to be happy.

  “No, I don’t.” He dropped the curtain and walked over to the bed, staring down at her. Frowning, he murmured, “I know you could have a concussion, and I’d stay if it wasn’t so important. The tea will keep you awake, so just lie here and try to relax, okay?”

  She did feel incredibly jazzed up, nowhere near ready to fall asleep. Almost the way she had felt when that strange, Rumpelstiltskin-like man had touched her earlier.

  “That man,” she mumbled, suddenly realizing he was the one she’d been hearing as she drove blindly through the woods. Stray from the path. His words. And his voice.

  “What man?” Hunter asked, his tone sharp. “Did you see someone in the woods?”

  “Someone crazier than you?”

  His eyes narrowed. “The tea can make you a little jumpy, but that mouth, it’s all you, isn’t it?”

  Scarlett couldn’t contain a cocky grin. “’Fraid so.”

  His lips might have quirked the tiniest bit. But whether he was going to smile or sneer, she honestly didn’t know.

  She wasn’t going to find out, either.

  Because without another word, Hunter swung around and crossed the room, grabbing a long duster coat off a hook. He tugged it on, then put a tattered fedora on top of his head.

  The Indiana Jones look so worked on this guy.

  He reached for the doorknob. “I’ve gotta go.” Before he slipped out into the night, however, he added a warning. “Stay inside until I get back. You don’t want to be wandering around in the dark. There are…things out there. And do not open the door to anyone.”

  He mumbled something else under his breath.

  “What?”

  He grudgingly explained. “Strange people live around here. If a grumpy-looking dwarf shows up, just stay quiet and pretend you’re not here.”

  Scarlett couldn’t contain a snort and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and, uh, I have to beware of old crones bearing apples, right?”

  “That’s ancient history,” he muttered.

  Then he was gone, leaving her to wonder just what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

  And why she didn’t seem to care.

  CHAPTER 4

  HUNTER HEADED BACK to the cottage at dawn. The night had proved fruitless, as he had thought it would. Morning came earlier here—the days were shorter all around—and he’d had just a few hours to track. The only good thing was the daylight hours would pass quickly, too. He’d be back out to start all over again the moment the sun went down.

  Lucas wouldn’t be able to stay in after dark. It didn’t matter where he was holed up, he’d be drawn outside into the moonlight as surely as a salmon was drawn upriver to spawn every year.

  Hunter glanced at his watch. It was 3:00 a.m. But streaks of pink and orange sliced the sky, preparing it for the arrival of the sun. The woman in his cabin would almost certainly notice.

  “Of course she will,” he mumbled, shaking his head. Half frustrated, half ruefully amused, he changed his watch to a time she’d find more realistic.

  The sharp-tongued blonde he’d rescued seemed to notice a lot. While the tea he’d spooned between her lips had probably worn off, he didn’t think the ten-cups-of-coffee high it had given her had been the reason for her sharpness. Huh-uh. He suspected that was all Scarlett Templeton.

  “Scarlett,” he said, rolling his eyes. She was about as far from a Southern belle as he was from Rhett Butler. No, she was fast-talking, quick-witted, aggressive and strong.

  Not to mention beautiful enough to fry every brain cell in his head and leave him breathless.

  He hadn’t been prepared for that, for her to clean up like something straight out of every man’s fantasy.

  His fantasy, truth be told.

  Not that he allowed himself such luxuries anymore. His last relationship had ended two years ago. That had been just before his mother had died. After she’d told him the truth about the world he thought he knew. And the life his mother had lived in another place entirely—with Lucas Wolf’s father. He’d sort of soured on relationships after that.

  He’d since had offers of just about anything, just about any way it could be had—after all, he lived in the Big Easy. But he hadn’t been interested. Not while his life was focused on one thing: tracking down the criminals who slipped back and forth between the worlds, using each realm to hide from their crimes in the other. He’d worked as a cop for ten years back then, seeing people evade prosecution for their crimes. Finding out how some of them had disappeared so completely had been a personal gauntlet thrown at his feet.

  But, in times gone by, when he had enjoyed normal pleasures like an active sex life—ancient history—Scarlett had been exactly the kind of female who’d driven him crazy with lust.

  He’d seen the blond hair when he’d rescued her, of course. But out in the bayou, he hadn’t realized how silky it was, or how the soft waves would feel in his hands. Since her eyes had been closed, he hadn’t known they were a deep blue the color of the sky on a starry night. He’d been too concerned about picking bits of glass off her cheeks to realize how creamy and smooth her skin was. Or to judge the beautiful shape of her face, the softness of her full lips or the gracefulness of her slim neck.

  It wasn’t until he’d gotten her to the cabin, laid her on his bed and carefully started removing her clothes that he’d realized any of those things. Cleaning her up, gently washing off her tiny cuts, had been like revealing a masterpiece beneath a painted-over canvas.

  He’d begun the task with resolve and impersonal concern.

  By the time he was done, he’d been shaking with desire and unable to think straight.

  Thank God she’d awakened when she did. Because he’d done as much as he could while still retaining his sanity. Moments before she’d come to, he’d noticed a drop of blood on the snow-white lace barely covering her full breasts. But it would have taken a much stronger man to go that far. No way could he remove the last bits of her clothing. Not without being instantly overwhelmed with the need to touch her for reasons other than to tend to her wounds.

  Seeing her reach to touch herself in her sleep had almost put him over the edge. He’d known what she was dreaming. The gentle thrust of her hips, the restless quiver of her legs, the visible tautness of her dusky nipples beneath the lace had made it clear.

  “Damned tea.”

  That was it. She was under the influence. The tea might have dulled her pain, but it also heightened all her other senses. No decent man would ever take advantage of that.

  Some perps might argue it, given the brutal tactics Hunter had occasionally needed to use on the job—both his former one, with the NOPD, and his current one—but he was still a decent man. Even if he’d been entertaining a lot of indecent thoughts in the hours since he’d left Scarlett.

  Not gonna go there, he reminded himself. She was a woman, just like any other woman. He was a professional and had a job to do. From this moment on, his sex drive was going to pretend Scarlett Templeton was a ninety-year-old nun.

  He knocked before opening the heavy oak door. Ninety-year-old nun or not, God help him if he walked in on the woman naked.

  Getting no response, he knocked again. “Scarlett?”

  Nothing.

  Hoping she was just asleep, he pushed the door in, his gaze shifting toward the bed where he’d left her.

  It was empty. A quick glance confirmed that the rest of the shadowy cabin was as well.

  “Damn it, woman, I’m not rescuing you again!”

  Then a scream split the dawn air, piercing and terrified.

  And he realized he might have spok
en too soon.

  * * *

  SHE HADN’T seen that.

  She had not seen that.

  It was the same thing she had not seen right before she’d crashed.

  “A man,” she whispered as she raced through the woods, in the direction she hoped would lead back to the cabin. “It was a man,” she repeated, the words becoming a mantra.

  Not an animal. Not a beast. A dark, swarthy man. One who had scared the bejesus out of her. She didn’t have one bit of bejesus left. Whatever bejesus was.

  Damn it, where was the cabin? She should never have left it. Why didn’t you listen to him?

  Because she’d been bored and jittery and stubborn. And because there hadn’t been a damned bathroom.

  She would have sworn she hadn’t gone more than a few dozen steps from the door. She’d picked her way carefully, using the lantern he’d left to light her way so she wouldn’t accidentally tumble into the mouth of a hungry alligator. Or worse…a big-ass snake. God, she hated snakes.

  But even with the lantern and the sun on the verge of rising, the woods seemed to close in around her, growing darker rather than lighter. Nothing appeared familiar. She couldn’t even see the outline of the cabin’s roof through the thick forest.

  Running was still better than stopping, though. Better than once again seeing what she so hadn’t seen before the crash, or just now, in the woods.

  Damn that tea. It had made her a little crazy. And a little wild. Crazy and wild and horny. Not a good combination.

  Only she hadn’t had any tea before the crash.

  Screw that. You imagined it. Now run!

  She kept going, her legs pumping even though her feet hurt like hell as she ran across jagged earth, dead brush and rocks. Her soles would be a bloody mangled mess if—when—she got back to safety. She’d found her clothes without any problem, but had only been able to locate one of her shoes when she’d gotten up a little while ago. So she had ventured out barefoot.

  It wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done. But all she could think about was answering nature’s call and getting back before he could return. Because having to ask him to take her to “use the facilities” seemed infinitely worse than risking stepping on a sharp stick.