Blooming in the Wild (6 page)

The camera reached his face, framed with the straps of a snug helmet and a pair of colored safety glasses. Joel Girand looked into the camera and smiled, his cheeks creasing. His teeth weren’t perfectly straight—his eyeteeth overlapped the next teeth slightly. Along with the bump on his nose, it gave him the look of a roguish vagabond. Of course, maybe that was partly the glint in those eyes, as if he couldn’t wait to lead her—that was, the viewer—straight into trouble with him.

“Hello,” his deep voice said in her ears. “I’m Joel Girand. As you can see, I’m standing on top of a cliff.” The camera angle dropped down his body to his feet, encased in black boots and nearly protruding over the edge of a rock ledge. Bella’s stomach plummeted as the camera moved out over the edge. Far below, white surf licked at a sandy beach.

The camera flicked back to Joel’s face. “I’ve got to get down to that beach. Now I
could
go around by the path. That would get me there in a couple of hours, give or take. But you’re in
The Wild Zone
, so we’re going down…the fast way.”

He smiled, and then he stepped out over the edge.

Bella nearly dropped the tablet. She gasped and pressed her hand to her bare chest over her skimpy tank. Her heart was beating like the wings of a trapped bird. His move mirrored her own in the dream—that was all. It wasn’t that she’d been worried about him. Why should she be?

But not until he stood safe on the beach, unhooking the ropes that had supported his plummeting descent, did her gaze leave the screen.

Joel jerked awake, his eyes flying open. Something had awakened him. He was comfortable, sprawled on a new mattress and sleeping bag with a cool breeze playing over him and the slow surge of the surf playing a lullaby, so that wasn’t it.

He squinted. Yes, there it was again: a flicker of red light. That didn’t make sense until he remembered Bella Moran’s red tent next to his.

He stared at her tent, yawning deeply and stretching. She shouldn’t be awake at—he peered at his phone, set handily on top of his bag—after midnight. And a beautiful night it was. The stars were out, diamonds twinkling in the black velvet of the tropical sky. As he sat up, he could see the faint silver foam line of the surf, surging rhythmically against the shore.

He wasn’t sure why he was awake, other than that he was surrounded by strangers, not his usual crew. Despite their photographer’s lurid imaginings, this wasn’t a dangerous location—no unfriendly natives or large predators lurking in the brush. Although there was some undercurrent he didn’t like. He frowned thoughtfully, trying to pinpoint the feeling, and then shrugged it off. Probably nothing more than the nerves Cassie, Tanah and Matt had exhibited, and anyway, he wasn’t in charge of everyone being happy, just getting his job done. Which he would do, no matter what.

The light flickered again, a familiar pattern. Sitting up, he leaned to one side and peered around Bella Moran’s silhouette. Even through her tent flap, he could tell she was watching a video on her computer.

Impelled by irritation and curiosity, he jackknifed silently out of his bag and crouched on all fours to cross the still-warm shelf of lava rock between their tents, wincing as he knelt on a rough pebble.

He peered around the side of her tent. She sat cross-legged, her head bent to the small computer in her hands. His breath froze in his throat. Damn, she was naked, the light from the screen gleaming off bare, smooth arms and legs. Then she moved, her tumbled hair sliding aside to reveal a white tank, molded to her small, lovely breasts. And there, little boxers that rode up into the crease of her hips. Well, hell, that settled his heart rate a little.

She caught her breath, her eyes wide, and then relaxed, one hand pressed in the valley between her breasts.

Stretching a little farther, he angled his head. Surprise and then amused satisfaction warmed his insides in a heady mix. He grinned to himself.

She was watching
Zone
—the episode filmed on Panadama Island. The small group of islands off the southern coast of Australia was famous for its wild beauty and inaccessibility. The combination attracted wealthy Aussie yacht owners and tourists willing to spend the night on a boat to visit, swim, soak up the sun and take pictures to prove they’d been there. A few packed their climbing gear for the difficult and dangerous trip to the top and back.

His mother had phoned him after the episode aired to protest that he might have warned her he was going to jump off that cliff. She’d nearly had a heart attack, she accused. She now lived with her sister in Spokane, and they never missed an episode of
The Wild Zone.
They never missed reaming him out over his latest stunt either. Joel suspected his Aunt Vicky loved the show but that his mother watched it only because he was in it and because she was half afraid if she didn’t, something would happen to him. His only worry was that his stunts weren’t enough to hold viewers’ attention.

He snuck another look to see how Ms. Hawaii was enjoying his leap. She was ignoring his on-screen chat about the descent, staring out into the night, her full lower lip caught between her teeth, her face bathed in the eerie light of the film.

“Boring you?” he asked.

She started violently, her eyes wide as black pools as she whirled to stare at him. She let out her breath with a whoosh, then seemed to recall what she’d been doing and clutched the tablet to her breasts, the light extinguished.

“What are you doing awake?” She reached up and yanked the light headphones off, tilting her head as they tangled in her long hair. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

He shifted to a more comfortable position, which brought him farther around the side of her tent. In the starlight, she was a shadowed figure under the red awning, still shaking her head to dislodge the light headphones.

“So are you,” he pointed out, grinning to himself. She was clearly embarrassed to have been caught watching him.

“I was just…just researching to see if your show has any…any, signature shots that we can use tomorrow,” she said stiffly. She finally got the headphones loose and dropped them into her lap, still clutching the little computer.

He didn’t believe her. “Want some photos of me hanging off these cliffs?” he offered.

“Actually, I was thinking we could photograph you jumping off of one— without a rope.”

He made a low “mr-rrow” sound in his throat, imitating an angry cat. “That was just mean, Ms. Moran. But I’ll do it, if you’ll hold my hand and jump with me. That way, one of us would have a nice, soft landing.”

Palm fronds clattered in a sudden swirl of breeze. Awareness arced through the warm, humid night between him and the dark-haired wahine seated so gracefully in her bed.

Her eyes were pools of shadow, her mouth a soft curve. Only a few feet separated them. In one swift move, he could be in that bed, her tantalizing scent—warm woman and flowers—wrapped around him, mingling with the scent of sex as he laid her back and got his hands and mouth on her—and more.

“Only in your dreams, big shot,” she retorted. “Better get back to them—and back to your own tent.”

Her tart words were just the tonic he needed to jolt him out of the invisible net of heat and longing that had enmeshed him. Didn’t matter if she watched his show all night. She was still the same uptight little manager.

He levered himself to his feet, wincing as his partial erection snagged on his shorts.

The tablet tipped down across her lap, its light shining into her face. She gazed up at him, wary and lovely. He shook his head at his own imaginings. She was about as vulnerable as a reef fish with a razor-sharp tail spur.

With a slither of fabric, Bella popped out of her tent, startling him as she emerged to stand before him, a lithe shadow. “Did you hear that?” she asked, still in a hushed voice.

He listened. “What?”

Then, over the surge of the surf, he heard a sharp smack and a moan. Adrenaline surged as he fumbled hastily for his sandals and stepped into them. He couldn’t help anyone if he was tiptoeing on lava rubble. He wondered briefly if he should grab his knife but decided against it because Bella was already in motion, gliding up into the shadows of the trees.

Joel had excellent night vision, but hers must be even better, for by the time he reached the trail worn in the lava flow and followed past where the lava wall met fig-tree roots in a tangle, she was already there, hovering in the path like a pale wraith.

Joel peered past her into the glow of a small lantern. He stared for a moment, struggling to take in what he saw. Several feet away, between the roots of the clustered figs, Li knelt nude before Camille, his lean body gilded by the lantern light. She stood over him, also nude, her back three-quarters turned to them.

She had a tight ass, Joel noted absently. Must be a runner. The Asian’s eyes were fastened on her face, and as Joel watched, his hands slid slowly up the backs of Camille’s bare legs. Joel winced as Camille slapped the guy again, but Li took it, clearly willing to be treated this way.

Bella flinched at the blow, backing into Joel, her warm, lush ass against his thigh, her back moving against his abdomen with her quick breaths. He eased back, steadying her with a hand on her arm, ready to move, wondering how long it would take her to break and run.

Didn’t matter to him if the photog and her boy toy were into a little kink, but damned if he got the attraction. Himself, he’d definitely drop to his knees for a pretty woman, but not for a smack upside the head.

Camille spoke sharply, and Li leaned forward to press his face between her thighs. As he did so, Camille lifted one of his hands. She turned her head toward Joel and Bella, and sank her teeth into the base of Li’s thumb. He moaned, a muffled sound.

Okay, enough. Joel stepped back, intending to pull Bella with him. But she was already moving with him, her head turning aside.

“Get out of my way,” she whispered desperately, shoving at him.

“Shh.” He drew her with him back around the lava wall, then kept her at his side by the simple expedient of sliding his arm around her. “It’s okay, Princess. Just forget about it.”

“Oh, right.” Her fingers dug into his forearm, her nails sharp little pricks of pain. “That’ll be easy.”

He snickered even as he peeled her hand from his arm. Taking her hand in his, he held it as they made their way back down the lava shelves toward camp. “Didn’t know about that particular kink, huh?”

“Of course I did, but—but, only in the abstract. Ugh! How will I look either of them in the eye after this?”

Joel shrugged. “Well, if you get mad at either one of them, you know what to say. ‘Bite me’
.”

She snickered and then clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it. He grinned to himself.

“Or how about ‘slap my ass and call me Sally’?” he added.

She shook her head, her hair brushing his bare shoulder. “That one’s just dumb.”

He shrugged, encouraged by the smile in her voice. “How about, you’re really pretty when you smile?”

She stopped in her tracks, and looked up at him, wary as a doe. “Mahalo. If you behave yourself, I might do it more often.”

“Aw, now what fun would that be?” He shook his head in mock regret. “Guess I’ll have to do without the smile.”

They were standing very close. He tugged slightly on her hand, and she moved one foot to keep her balance, stepping even closer. Her arm brushed his, her skin like satin. He could feel the heat of her body, and she smelled like temptation.

Something about witnessing the raw sexuality of Camille and Li’s encounter had him feeling reckless. And, what the hell, he’d wanted this wahine since the first moment he saw her. Had that only been a few hours before?

Even more since she’d brought him that guava. She’d watched him eat with a covert intensity that had been as arousing as it was surprising. She was a study in contrasts, from prim executive director to alluring, feisty Hawaiian wahine.

He bent his head very slowly, watching to see what she’d do. She stood very still, but her arm trembled a little against his, her fingers tightening on his.

“A night like this sort of calls for a kiss, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Maybe.” Her whisper was a breathy tease. In the moonlight, her lips parted, soft and luscious.

Damn. So luscious he’d never be content with just a kiss. He already wanted to haul her against him, feel those little breasts pressed against his bare chest and grind his erection into the vee of her thighs, get his hands on that ass of hers. If he kissed her, he wouldn’t be able to resist doing the rest. And then she’d probably raise all kinds of hell, slap him with her capable little hand and a lawsuit.

He let her wait, drawing the moment out while the surf shushed against the shore and a night bird called softly from the trees overhead. “Nah, better not.”

Straightening, acting as if he’d never intended to kiss her, was one of the hardest things he’d done in…a long time. Taking a fortifying breath of the warm night air, Joel pulled her after him, toward the camp.

“Too bad,” she murmured. “I was gonna use my trademark move.”

His pulse leapt, his hand tightening on hers. “Is that a twisted, kinky move like we just saw, or a friendly kind of move?” he asked, as if he could’ve cared less.

She wriggled her hand from his grip. “Guess you’ll never know.”

Joel adjusted himself surreptitiously in his shorts, groaning silently. He’d known she was trouble from those first few moments. Now, instead of going peacefully to sleep, he was going to lie in his sleeping bag and imagine her offering him not guava but passion fruit.

As they reached the camp, another shadow moved out to meet them. It was Frank.

“What’s up?” he asked. He might be a lot smaller than Joel, but there was an edge in his voice. The older man had obviously caught on that he was attracted to Bella and was feeling protective.

“Bella heard something and wanted to make sure everyone’s all right,” Joel said quietly. “I heard her and followed.”

“It was, um, just Camille and Li,” Bella muttered. “Being…private.”