Operation Willow Quest (16 page)

“I never said you were dumb. I’ve simply
pointed out that you’re not my type. I
realise
an ego
the size of yours must have a hard time handling that—but I’m sure you’ll get
over it.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I thought you were
apologising
.”

“I have nothing to
apologise
for! I was simply trying to…oh forget it, we’re only going to end up fighting,
and I’m not in the mood.” She sighed wearily.

Del
’s low chuckle had her
snapping her head around to glare at him suspiciously.

“Why don’t you just admit that you’re attracted
to me and that I make your knees go weak and we’ll leave it at that,” he
suggested with a shrug.

Willow
’s mouth gaped open in
disbelief, but he kept talking.

“Come on, Sheldon, we both know what’s
simmering under the surface here. Hell—I’ll admit it—you make me hotter than
hell. You get me so worked up most of the time I don’t know whether to strangle
you or kiss you,” he said, his voice losing its teasing note to become rougher
with each admission. “Do you know what I see whenever I look at you?”

Mesmerised
by the force of his
gaze, she could only move her head a fraction side to side.

“I picture you sprawled across my bed—moaning
my name over and over—”

“I get the picture,” she snapped quickly after
gaping at him in astonishment for a few seconds.
What the hell does he think he’s doing?
 
She shook off the images that flashed before
her own eyes.
Did I ever get the picture…
“I can’t even begin to
imagine
any
girl finding that line a turn on,” she lied. “You have to be the most,
egotistical, arrogant, obnoxious bloody man I’ve ever laid eyes on,” she whispered
furiously, gathering her scattered thoughts and turning on him with a
narrow-eyed gaze.

“Hey! I’m going to look up all those words when
I get home, you know,” he warned.

He’s
yanking my chain again.
Gritting her teeth and counting to ten slowly, Willow forced herself to
continue, ignoring his interruption. “And if you think for one moment I would
actually even consider sleeping with you—”

“Uh-ah,” he said, leaning towards her
threateningly, “make no mistake—when we go to bed together,
darlin
’
, for real
,” he
emphasised
,
acknowledging their previous sleeping arrangement, “I can assure you, we won’t
be doing any sleeping.”

He said the words in a low voice that made her
eyes widen at the unmistakable image he’d drawn for her.

“You’re not my type,” she repeated, captivated
by the blue of his eyes as he leaned across, his gaze holding hers securely.

“Why?”

“Because you’re…” Her words trailed off faintly
as she caught the musky male scent he wore and saw his eyes deepen. He was
moving—or maybe she was—but somehow she was getting closer and her heart began
thudding painfully against her chest, making her feel off balance and out of
control.

“Excuse me; would either of you like another
drink before we land?” The hostess’s polite voice had the same effect as a
bucket of cold water being thrown over them.

Del
looked away from Willow and nodded
faintly. “Give me another scotch…straight.”

Willow
sank back against her
seat and let out a long slow breath. “Make mine a double.”

She heard Del’s uneasy chuckle as he ran a hand
through his short hair restlessly and gave a small nod of satisfaction.
Good.
She wasn’t the only one shaken by
the encounter…now if they could pretend they didn’t feel the lingering hum of
desire for the remainder of the flight, everything would be fine.

Chapter 11

It was easier than she’d expected to deliver
Terry’s proof. He’d apparently had a little forewarning contact with the
government official they met with and Willow
was relieved to discover that he seemed to take the information very seriously.

As they stood up to shake hands with the
government agent, Del
asked her to go outside while he talked to the agent alone. There hadn’t been
time to protest—he practically frog-marched her to the door, closing it firmly
behind her. She’d fumed outside in the corridor, pacing back and forth for a
full twenty minutes before it opened and Del
strode past, taking her hand without breaking stride and towing her toward the
front of the building.

“
What
was
all that about?” she demanded, as they pushed through the front door out into
the bright sunshine.

“Just filling them in on a few background
details. Nothing that concerns you,” he said dismissively, waving down a taxi
and hustling her inside.

“
Nothing
that concerns me
? Are you out of your
freakin
’
mind? Tell me one thing relating to
Trèago
in the
last two years that
hasn’t
concerned
me!” she demanded angrily.

“Not
everything
is about you Sheldon,” he retorted, and smirked.

Gritting her teeth, she turned her gaze toward
the window and tried to count to ten.
God,
this man is so annoying!
He seemed to bring out the foot-stamping-tantrum
in her every time he opened his damn mouth.

* * * *

By the time they arrived the airport after the
embassy meeting and were ready to check in their luggage, they’d reached an
uneasy truce…of sorts. It lasted until the loudspeaker announcement informing
them their flight to Hawaii
would be delayed. Forty-five minutes and a few polite enquiries later they
learned the flight had been rescheduled for eleven-forty the next morning.

“I can’t believe this,” Willow
muttered, following Del
as he led the way through the busy terminal. “When is this journey from hell
going to end?” she asked no one in general.

He shrugged casually. “We’ll just stay
overnight at a hotel, no big deal.”

“Do you have to be so damn logical all the
time?” she asked irritably. “Doesn’t anything
ever
 
faze you?”

“What’s the point in complaining about it? We
can’t change anything; we may as well go and get something to eat and a good
night’s sleep.”

“Why don’t
you
 
go and book in to a motel and have a
good night’s rest? I’ll stay here and maybe another flight will have a vacant
seat and I’ll get on that.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head.

“No?” she replied slowly, her temper increasing
ten-fold.

“No,” he repeated bluntly, “we’re not staying
at the airport all night.” He spoke without slowing down.

“Look, you’ve done your thing. You can stop
this macho claptrap,” she said, trying to catch her breath and speak at the
same time as she hurried to keep up with him.

“My
thing
 
isn’t done until I say so,” he told her.

Seeing that Del had her backpack and equipment and
unless she wanted to cause a scene, there wasn’t much she could do but follow
him to a shuttle bus that took them to a hotel a few
kilometres
down the road.

Once inside, she wasted little time, ignoring Del’s assurance he could
handle the booking and heading straight for the front desk. This time she was
prepared to step in and make her own arrangements. “We need two rooms please,”
she said quickly.

“I’m not sure what we have available,” the
woman in her mid-thirties said with a flurry of red-
taloned
fingernails across her computer keyboard. Willow
took one look at the woman’s face and groaned.

“I’m sorry, we only have one room left.”

Del
stepped in. “We’ll
take it.”

Flashing him a furious glare, she whispered
angrily, “There’s a hotel next door, we can try there.”

“It’s real busy this time of year; you’ll be
lucky to get another room this close to the airport tonight,” the woman added
helpfully.

Willow
rolled her eyes in
disgust and dejectedly walked away from the desk to sit down in the reception
area.

Del
followed, dangling a
key in front of her nose playfully. “Come on, Sheldon, it won’t be so bad,” he
urged with a small grin. “I’ll be on my best
behaviour
.”
He crossed his heart, then sighed when she sent him an unimpressed look. “I bet
there’s coffee in the room,” he threw in.

“This really must be an all-time low for you, Delaware…having to
resort to blackmail in order to get a woman to go back to your hotel room.”

Watching her uncross her long legs and get to
her feet, he shrugged with a charming smile. “Whatever it takes.”

* * * *

Willow
moved towards the
warmth, seeking the comfort it offered. She felt the solid strength beneath her
cheek and smiled. Arching against the delicious sensation of something moving
up and down her spine, she sighed.

Beneath her cheek the solid form tensed and the
remaining fragment of her dream ebbed away to be replaced with a very different
set of feelings. As she opened her eyes she found herself pressed from chest to
thigh against Del—her
slender figure
moulding
to his larger one like the
proverbial glove.

She froze as a multitude of sensations swarmed
her at once, the strongest, being desire, which out-weighed mortification by
quite an advantage.

His smooth flesh felt warm against hers and she
could smell the clean, fresh scent of the hotel soap on his skin, and the
faintest trace of woody scotch on his breath. His hands continued their
leisurely path up and down her back, lightly tracing the notches in her spine
and scattering goose bumps along her arms.

She knew he realized she was now awake by the
tense muscle of his chest straining beneath her cheek. Slowly she lifted her
head, placing it on the pillow beside his to look up into his eyes.

He stared back at her without releasing his
hold, waiting for a sign, something to indicate which way he should go.

Willow
knew she should put a
stop to this now. Before things got out of hand, before things got complicated—but
she
realised
it was too late. Things had been heading
along this track for a long time. With every encounter, every barb, every
heated argument they’d exchanged from their very first meeting, it had been
building toward this exact moment in time.

There was no going back now; it was far too
late for that. Willow
moved her hands across his chest, snaking them up to trace the rugged jaw line
that had always fascinated her…it was time to deal with this once and for all.

Del
shuddered, closing his
eyes as a mixture of relief and desire coursed through his veins at her soft
touch. He’d woken to find her curled against him and hardly dared to breathe in
case she woke and the moment was lost. But as she dreamed, she began to melt
against him and he’d lost the battle to keep his hands off her. Resigning
himself to the possibility that he’d end up at best with a slap across the
face, he gave in to the urge to touch her soft skin, biting down on the urge to
groan in frustration when she stretched against him in delight.

Now with her arms winding around his neck and
her persuasive mouth locked on his, he needed no further encouragement; he met
her hungry lips with a craving brought on by long lonely nights dreaming of
this moment. She tasted like smooth, ten-year-old scotch and something uniquely
Willow. It
drove him insane, this need to possess her. It throbbed through his veins but
he roped in his wayward urge, content to
savour
the
moment.

Willow
’s skin felt like it
was on fire. Her head floated dreamily some place far above, while her body
simmered in a consuming fire of lust and urgent need. She knew now why she’d
fought so hard against this attraction she felt for Del—it was intoxicating.
Stronger by far than any drink
I’ve ever had
, she thought with a
detached sense of
humour
.
But
definitely something that
should be bottled.
She tugged at the thin barrier of his shirt depriving
her of greater contact with his warm skin and within moments Del had stripped off all his clothes. Willow fumbled with the
buttons on her borrowed shirt before, with a growl of frustration, she tugged
it over her head and tossed it to join the small pile of clothing they’d
created on the floor.

Bitting
her lip against the
groan of ecstasy the sudden contact of hot, sleek flesh on flesh created, she
rubbed one leg in a slow deliberate move along the solid unyielding muscle of
his thigh. The action produced yet another shudder of delight and a renewed
assault on the tender column of her neck, as Del nipped and kissed his way down further,
past her collarbone and lower, showing such a talent she almost felt a need to
leap to her feet and applaud.