Hard to Hold (True Romance) (20 page)

For her normal duties, she mostly had to listen to the police scanner and pick up information about breaking stories. She fed facts to reporters in the field or went out herself to interview neighbors outside a fresh crime scene or wait for the fire chief to give an initial report about a three-alarm blaze.

But in the quiet hours after the late edition had been put to bed, she worked on human interest stories. Talking about them, even when they were usually fraught with tragedy, seemed to lighten her mood.

“It’s so sad,” she said. “This class at the high school was working on a production of
Little Shop of Horrors
and their lead died in a car crash. They’re devastated. I saw the kid on YouTube. What an amazing talent. They’re trying to work out how to put on the show and do something in his honor. I’m going to see their rehearsal tomorrow night. Keeping myself objective during this one is going to be tough.”

“Want me to go with you?”

She jumped up from the bench with more energy than he’d seen in her for a while. “Really?”

“Of course, really.”

“I’ll be working,” she warned him.

He nodded. They’d had this conversation before, too. “I’ll meet you at the rehearsal and then you can go right back to the paper. I won’t even entice you to stop on the way back for a cup of coffee.”

He untied Sirus and took Anne’s hand, loving how she suddenly had a skip in her step.

“Well,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder again. “I don’t think a cup of coffee will stop the cogs of the
Daily
Journal
.”

He bit back a comment about how those cogs were crushing her hopes and dreams and instead kissed her. He missed her like crazy, but if he didn’t let her work this out on her own, they wouldn’t survive. He could only hope that by the time they reached Peru, the misery at her job would be long behind them— with only their glowing future on the horizon.

Seventeen

F
ROM THE MOMENT THEIR PLANE LIFTED OFF
from Kennedy airport, Michael watched Anne for any sign that would indicate she’d left her troubles behind her. He had a very long wait. A seasoned traveler, Anne was impervious to the stress of flying and yet, for most of the nine hour flight, she’d glanced out of the tiny round window more times than generally necessary— not to make sure they were still in the air, but according to her, to reassure herself that they really were leaving the United States.

She read through her guidebooks and chitchatted with him about restaurants she wanted to go to and sights she wanted to make sure they didn’t miss, was friendly to the flight crew, and even struck up a conversation with the woman across the aisle from them, but he hadn’t been fooled. Her anxiety remained at peak levels until they completed their connecting flight from Lima to Cusco and she set her bags down inside the hotel.

Compared to the bed-and-breakfast where they’d stayed in the Catskills, this place was a hovel. And yet, as she leaned halfway out the open window and inhaled the mountain-scented air, he watched the miasma of her work frustrations sizzle off her body. Her shoulders dropped. Her neck curved and even her hands, as she reached out toward the plaza outside, possessed a peaceful grace.

“We made it,” she said, twisting her arms until she was hugging herself. She threw a glance over her shoulder that was part coy invitation and part surprise.

“You doubted we would?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, turning back toward the window and giving the breeze one last, long inhale. “The turbulence on the flight here was kind of scary.”

Michael sidled up behind her and layered his arms over hers. She molded her body to his and he tightened his squeeze, just in case her sudden onset of bliss made her unsteady.

“I’m not talking about the plane,” he clarified. “You didn’t think
we
’d make it. As in, you and me.”

She leaned back so that he caught the doubtful look in her soulful brown eyes. “Like you were confident the whole time?”

“Good point.”

He didn’t want to rehash the past six months or relive the moments when he’d been alone in his bed, sending her instant messages from his laptop and wondering how much longer he could stand having a woman in his life whom he never actually saw in person. Needing Anne hadn’t come as a complete surprise to him—the week after she’d returned from her vacation in Egypt had taught him how deeply they were connected. What had shocked him was how irritable he could become when the woman he adored was dangled in front of him through voice mails, short phone conversations, and notes left on each other’s doors. His inner selfish bastard had made his presence known on more than one occasion, and in truth, he suspected she might dump him long before they boarded the plane for Lima.

But now they were here. For the next two weeks, they’d be together twenty-four/seven, with no interruptions from work or family or even a dog that needed walking. Traveling to a cradle of civilization put them into a world that could easily have existed in an alternate universe. He intended to make sure they milked every single minute of joy from every flavor, every terrain, every sight, sound and smell of Peru.

But first, he intended to find that same bliss exploring the spot just beneath Anne’s ear with his tongue. He slipped his hands beneath her T-shirt and worked the top button of her jeans so that he could slide his palms over her hips and imprint her curves back into his memory.

She chuckled throatily, but then twisted around to face him.

“We don’t have that much time in Cusco,” she said, stretching her arms behind her so she could run her fingers through his hair. “We should use our time to explore.”

“I am exploring,” he assured her, divesting her of her jeans.

“I meant the sights,” she clarified.

He leaned forward, pulled the window in at an angle that blocked any view of them from the street, but still allowed the fresh breeze to flutter the gauzy curtains. He then went to work on the buttons and ties on her blouse. “I like what I’m seeing right now.”

He peeled away the material, revealing that one lacy white bra of hers he loved. The one with the tiny red heart in the center between her amazingly lush breasts. He turned her around and backed them up to the bed.

“But we don’t have a lot of time here,” she said, tugging his shirt over his head.

“Sex doesn’t always have to be a leisurely activity,” he reminded her.

He hadn’t realized how hot he was for her until they were naked and kissing and rediscovering each other after so many months apart. The casting off of their mundane worries tore open a heavy curtain that had hung between them for months. For the first time in forever, they saw each other—and felt each other—with searing clarity.

Making love with Anne, unencumbered and on the spur of the moment, heightened his senses so that the colors around him seemed extra vibrant and the smells stronger and more enticing. The muscles in his neck and shoulder that so often succumbed to the whims of his disorder obeyed his every command. For a whimsical moment, he imagined taking Anne’s hand and floating to Machu Picchu. Instead, he simply made sure they both climaxed in a wild spin of color, texture, and taste.

Once dressed, they strolled through the city like the tourists they were. Cusco was the ancient capital of Peru, a main site for the Incas and the center of their sun worship. He and Anne wandered through amazing markets, explored several colonial Spanish churches, and shared dinner in the central square while the locals tried to sell them finger puppets or entertained the crowds with native dance and music.

By the time they returned to the hotel, their only comfortable stop on what would be a rustic vacation in the mountains, they were bone weary and feeling the effects of the altitude. Mike was glad he’d seduced Anne when they first arrived because by the time they’d both crawled into bed, they were too tired to do much more than exchange a quick kiss good night.

By morning, Anne hadn’t recovered her physical strength, but her emotional well-being soared. She downed two bottles of water, which revived her well enough to meet with the tour guides and embark on a rafting tour on the Urubamba River. They napped upon their return, then took advantage of the Cusco nightlife and danced until midnight.

In the morning, Michael rolled over to find Anne curled into a ball, her face pale.

“Hey, babe. What’s wrong?”

She shut her eyes tight, which emphasized a slightly pale line around her lips. “Too much
chicha
last night, I guess.”

Mike smirked. They’d both had a small glass of the fermented corn drink, but neither had drunk enough to cause anything resembling a hangover. “Let me get you some water.”

He threw on his pants and a shirt and jogged to the lobby for cold bottled waters. When he got back, she hadn’t moved. He helped her sit up, then smoothed his hand up and down her back while he supervised her sipping. After a little while, her color returned and she perked up.

“Dehydration?” she asked, recognizing the signs.

“Probably on account of the altitude,” he said. “We need to make sure to pack extra water today. Unless you want to cancel?”

From her scandalized expression, Mike knew that waylaying the hike to Machu Picchu was out of the question. Anne took a little longer getting herself together, but he took charge of packing so that by the time they checked out of the hotel, they weren’t behind schedule. They met the guides at the prearranged location, met the other people on the tour, checked their packs to ensure they had everything they needed, and then headed off.

Mike kept a close eye on Anne. She wasn’t one-hundred percent, but if he attempted to coddle her, the results wouldn’t be pretty. While the tour had porters who carried the heavy items such as the food and tents, their packs were laden with water, snacks, changes of clothes, and basic toiletries—enough to put a strain on someone who wasn’t feeling well. Luckily, the tour guides didn’t seem to be in any hurry, allowed for a lot of breaks, and even carried oxygen tanks for anyone who started losing the battle with the lower atmosphere.

In the meantime, the porters sprinted ahead of them so that by the time they reached the halfway point of the day’s hike, they’d set up tents and campfires and had prepared lunch. Anne nibbled at cheese and fruit, but drank deeply enough from her canteen for Mike to keep his opinions about her food intake to himself.

Still, as she repacked her rucksack so she could reach the extra batteries she’d tucked in the bottom for her camera, he sat beside her on the rock and brushed her hair away from her face.

“Feeling okay?”

She shrugged. “I’ll live.”

When she stood and stretched, he took the opportunity to grab her bag and sling it over his shoulder. Surprisingly, she didn’t object, but instead pressed her head against his shoulder and laced her hand in his. The spring-powered walking sticks they’d purchased in Cusco came in very handy during the climb, but by the time they reached their last stop for the night, Anne tumbled into their tent and did not emerge during the entire dinner.

Mike took her a plate and a canteen filled with creek water fed by the melting snow on the nearest mountain peak.

“You’re babying me,” she said, her tone only half accusatory.

“Is that a capital offense? Under the circumstances?”

She forced a grin. “No, but I’m not very good at being taken care of.”

Mike laughed. “I noticed, but I’ve also noticed that the sky is blue, the mountains are tall, and the plants in the rain forest are very green.”

“Always the comedian,” she said, then groaned and collapsed onto her sleeping bag.

Since Mike knew she was being dramatic to enhance his worry more than actually fainting, he grabbed her plate and decided to feed her like he had all those months ago—right after the first time they’d made love. Moments like these filled him with wonder. How had he found such a perfect woman? Who had decided he deserved to be the luckiest man on earth?

When he first held a forkful of roasted meat toward her, she eyed him skeptically, but without a word, he convinced her that he wasn’t going to give up until she’d filled her belly with some fortifying protein. Every time she took an obedient bite, he skewered another until the plate was clean. She finished off the water, took a trip out to the latrine, and when she returned, closed her eyes and relaxed against her rucksack.

“I’m stuffed,” she said.

“You’re going to need the energy.”

She opened one eye. “Why? The mountain air isn’t making you feel randy, is it?”

“As a matter of fact,” he said, sliding down beside her.

The tents in the encampment were very close together, so while Mike had no intention of making love with Anne while so many people were in earshot and she was still feeling so weak, he did enjoy the feel of her body pressed against his. Despite the occasional arm twitch or neck spasm, he held her, smoothing his hand across her shoulder or across her waist. The Tourette’s had not stolen this pleasure from him. He wouldn’t let it.

And neither would Anne. She scooted closer so that their bodies touched in all the places that mattered. Her kiss was long and deep and full of desire. Surprised, he pulled back to stare into her eyes, which sparked with what he recognized as undeniable lust.