And then suddenly she was talking, words tumbling out of her mouth—feverish, pleading, impassioned words, love words, sex words, begging him, praising him, moaning against him. Until his mouth silenced hers, his tongue driving deep into her mouth as his body drove into her warmth. And there was nothing she could do but cling to him as explosion after explosion wracked her body. She was distantly aware of him stiffening in her arms, the sudden exhalation of breath against her sweat-streaked face, and then he collapsed against her, cradling her head against him as he lay there, his pounding heartbeat a twin to hers, slowing in tandem, as they sank back to a semblance of reality.
His strong back was slippery with sweat. It felt good to her, strong and real and hot, and she moved her head to place her mouth against his slightly bony shoulder, opening it to taste the dampness their lovemaking had brought forth. Then his head moved down, catching her mouth, kissing her with a sweet passion that had only begun to be sated. And the slow coils of desire began to burn again, and she was wide awake once more.
There was no way she could deny it. Her body was already reacting to the renewed proof of his desire, tightening around him in reminiscent, anticipatory spasms of longing. “We’re going to be sorry,” she said, trailing hot, hungry little kisses down his chest.
“Maybe,” Mack said. “Maybe not.” And he flipped over, bringing her with him, and smiled up at her, a devilish, sexy grin that wrung her heart. “Okay, kid. Your turn to do all the work.”
She looked down at him, considering for a long moment. “Pulaski,” she said, shifting slightly and watching with pleasure as his eyes glazed, “you’re going to be my downfall.”
He looked up. “God, I hope so, Maggie May. I surely hope so.”
twelve
It had been a strange, uncomfortable morning. Maggie woke up first, crawled from beneath the tangle of limbs, and made it to the shower before Mack could pull her back. She killed as much time as she could, then went directly down to the small, clean lobby to find out about flights to Tegucigalpa. By the time she came back to the room, Mack was up and dressed.
She didn’t want to look at Mack and see that warm, tender look in his eyes that completely demoralized her. He seemed suddenly much larger, filling the small hotel room with his presence, and yet she knew it was an illusion. He wasn’t much taller than her almost six feet. She felt nervous, unsure of herself and her reactions to the almost shocking events of the night before. The feelings he stirred in her left her disoriented, quiet, and in desperate need of time to think and reflect.
But right now time was their most precious commodity. So she entered the room, avoiding his gaze, moving straight to the window and looking out over the courtyard. The soft trade breezes blew her damp hair against her forehead, soothing her. “We’re taking the first flight out of here—I’ve arranged for a taxi to take us to the airport. Was there anything you needed to buy before we go?” Her voice was cool, distant, friendly, and she allowed herself a brief look at him before her eyes skittered away.
Hurt and anger clouded his hazel eyes, but his rough, drawling voice sounded just as unmoved as hers. “I think I’ve got everything I need. Tegucigalpa’s the biggest city in the country, according to Fodor’s. I’m sure if we need anything else, we can find it there.”
“Yes, I’m sure we can,” she said, staring out at the leaves gently moving in the soft wind. She forced herself to turn, smiling brightly at him. “Let’s go.”
He waited. Watching her. He was going to say something, she just knew it. He was going to open that sexy mouth of his that had done such shocking things to her last night and say, “About last night …”
Without a word, he stuffed their damp clothes in the knapsack, fastened it, and hoisted it over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” was all he said.
They slept the short flight from La Ceiba to Tegucigalpa, careful not to touch each other. There’d been an uncomfortable moment when they’d taken their seats in the small commuter plane, and Maggie couldn’t keep her eyes from meeting his as she fastened the seat belt.
“You’re not the slightest bit nervous?” he asked her, his voice nothing more than politely curious. They might never have clung together on the shattered wing of a downed plane, might never have kept each other alive and alert during those endless hours.
“Not the slightest,” she said, and it was only a little bit of a lie. “What about you?”
“Scared shitless,” he said. “But then, I’ve never made any claim to being perfect. I have real emotions. I get angry, I get scared, I get hurt. What about you?” There was no mistaking the pulsing anger in his voice.
Maggie knew that sooner or later she was going to have to face what happened, sooner or later they were going to have to talk about it. But not right now, when she was trying to hide the fact that her palms were sweating, not right here when they were surrounded by tourists and businessmen and flight attendants.
“You should know by now that I do my absolute best not to let things faze me,” she said in her coolest voice. “Life is a great deal more comfortable that way.”
“I’m sure it is,” he snapped, and he didn’t say another word the entire trip.
If his nagging, impertinent questions made her edgy, his silence was even worse. As they made their way through Tegucigalpa, Mack followed her with a leashed docility that she had little doubt would explode sooner or later. She found she was looking forward to it.
Tegucigalpa was a bustling, growing city, nestled in one of Honduras’s many valleys, with new construction abounding on the outskirts and in the center of the capital. The pastel houses, the red-tiled roofs, the twisting little neighborhoods and charming, colonial ambience made Maggie think twice about settling for the anonymous comfort of the Holiday Inn Plaza. But not three times. That anonymity was just what they needed while she made contact with the head of the rebels.
The government of Honduras had cracked down recently, ordering the various bickering groups of rebels to maintain a lower profile in the country’s capital. It might prove more difficult finding them than she supposed. She also had to figure out what she was going to do with Mack while she made contact. While it was unlikely that word of his involvement with the New York drug deal could have filtered all the way down here, Maggie didn’t dare rule it out.
Mack waited in the spacious lobby
of the new Holiday Inn Plaza while she checked in, followed her as she led the way to their room on the third floor overlooking the charming city and the mountains that ringed it.
Finally he spoke. “Where am I sleeping?”
There were two double beds in the spacious, American-style hotel. “Like a five-hundred-pound gorilla, Pulaski, you can sleep anywhere you damn please.”
He didn’t smile. “Which bed do you want?”
So it was going to be like that, was it, she thought dishearteningly. She had no one to blame but herself. She’d known it was a mistake from the start, she’d been deliberately cool all morning, and it was no wonder he was setting his own distances between them.