Safari Moon (8 page)

She nodded to him, hoping she’d think of
something to say. The redhead, realizing an intruder had entered
the room, looked up from her intimate position. Her dark eyes were
shadowed then turned belligerent.

Good, Nyssa thought, she could handle
belligerent. She was, after all, Solo’s damsel come to his rescue.
This lady should be vanquished in a manner of minutes if she could
think of something to say.

Seconds felt like hours while she let her
gaze sweep around the room. The door to the bedroom was open. The
sheets tossed and tangled as if something playful had toyed with
them.

It didn’t take much to envision him,
half-naked, sleepy, in bed, and wrapped in the redhead’s arms.

“Nyssa?” His sexy voice brought her out of
the spell she’d almost smothered herself in.

“Get your hands off my husband!” Nyssa’s
voice blurted out but her few crisp words had the desired effect.
The lady’s hands dropped to her sides and her lips moved in a pert
little moue.

At least Solo had the presence of mind to
take advantage of her verbal warning. Standing, he neatly dumped
the woman on her rounded derriere onto the couch.

If Nyssa hadn’t felt such outrage, the scene
could have been construed as comical. But she did feel intense
indignation and a possessiveness she wouldn’t analyze at the
moment.

“Your husband?” The female cooed
unbelievingly. “Now why do I find that hard to believe?”

“What a surprise darling.” She turned to
Solo. “Is this one willing, eager, or able? Or perhaps a
combination of all three?” She did try to push the anger from her
voice. But then she thought it was a nice touch and if anger got
rid of the female it was worth the embarrassment.

“Of all the nerve!”

“Yes, my wife does have--nerve. Among other
things.” Solo still stood, open-mouthed, as Nyssa made her way
across the room.

Nyssa ran her hand up Solo’s arm and
endeavored for sultry instead of anger in her tone. “Sorry the
plane took so long. Just like you asked, I bought a silky little
black thing for bed.”

There were a number of things that could go
wrong. For starters, Solo could deny the relationship, and then of
course the redhead could figure out she lied. Somehow she didn’t
expect either scenario.

“Pumpkin,” Solo said with a husky little
growl in the timbre of his voice.

Pumpkin?

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

Before she had a chance to answer, he had
maneuvered around discarded clothes and tumbled furniture to make
his way to the kitchen and back with a glass, and was now pouring.
He grinned from ear-to-ear and she felt a real sense of
accomplishment.

“I tried to tell her I was spoken for, but
until you showed up she didn’t believe me.”

“The Colonel will hear about this. You can
count on it. And he’ll pay, too.” The redhead flashed them both a
look of disapproval and fury. “The Colonel set this all up. And now
what am I supposed to do?”

“Go home,” they answered in unison.

The redhead stood and adjusted her clothing
while she managed a suspended glare at them. “The Colonel said you
were looking for a soul mate, not that you already had one. So why
did he send me all the way out here to be humiliated? I think the
papers back home would be delighted in this little affair and I’ll
just bet you’re not married. Now that will put a nice touch on the
headlines of the society pages.”

Only the rigid set to Solo’s jaw clued Nyssa
into the tension radiating from his powerful frame. He kept looking
at her, a strange expression molded onto his face. She’d never seen
him look at her quite that way before.

“Bet all you want.” His voice was a sexy
whisper close to Nyssa’s ear. He smoothed her hair from her face,
his finger making strange forays down her neck, even as the redhead
stared at them with open disbelief.

“You must be cold.” His deep blue eyes
flickered over her, licking her with fire.

Almost as if the suggestion triggered the
reaction, she felt her body shudder. Yet it wasn’t the coolness of
the night air that made her shiver but the warmth from his body,
the heat he made sweep through her with the barest suggestion of
intimacy.

The woman still didn’t believe they could be
married. The look the redhead centered on her bore a distinct
resemblance to loathing. As Nyssa tuned into the direction of the
woman’s gaze, she realized her clothing had been torn during her
treck from the airstrip to the cabin.

Fool, she berated herself. No wonder he
thought she was cold. But when she looked back to meet Solo’s gaze,
she saw concern and desire.

Nyssa wasn’t sure where to go from here. She
felt her earlier confidence slip under Solo’s intense scrutiny. All
of a sudden she understood this was still an act, nothing more. She
was his buddy--nothing more. She got hold of her emotions, knowing
full-well that all would change after they persuaded the woman to
leave.

Their relationship would
return to its usual hum-drum normalcy.
Buddies.

“I know you’re not married.” This time the
female punctuated each word with a little stamp of her foot.

Nyssa had never been a good liar and now
faced with the truth of the situation, she wilted with
embarrassment. She caught hold of Solo’s arm, and braced herself
for the next barrage of accusations.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Solo moved a
little so she could lean more firmly against him. His body hot and
warm against the length of her represented security and safety when
all she wanted to do was hide. “You should leave.”

Solo’s warm blue eyes danced with tenderness
as he murmured. “Now,” and pulled Nyssa closer.

“Well, I’ll tell the world.” The woman
huffed as she slammed the front door behind her.

“Be my guest,” Solo said.

***

“There will be repercussions,” Nyssa
said.

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

Mesmerized, Nyssa found she couldn’t move
away from him or the intensity of his gaze. Lost in expectations
and images she’d fantasized, Nyssa let herself be pulled toward him
because today might be the one opportunity to learn the texture,
the feel of his lips against hers.

His mouth did capture hers. Heaven, the kiss
was pure delight, all she’d ever imagined, hot and hard, demanding
a response. He kissed her as if he cared for her. Her hands slipped
up his arms and around his neck, pulling him closer.

She fleetingly thought to push him away but
chose not to when he slanted his mouth across hers. Her lips
parted, letting him deepen the kiss, reveling in the swift rise of
passion.

When he bent her backward, his hands
caressed and tantalized. Nyssa forgot her plans for the future. She
gave in to the precious moments she’d never have again, and allowed
Solo St. John to kiss her senseless.

His muscles tensed and flexed beneath her
fingertips, and she wanted to know more of him, needed to unbutton
the soft flannel shirt he wore then run her finger across his
chest. If this went on any longer, she’d have him down on the rug
in front of the fireplace, and there would be nothing between them,
not even air.

He dipped his tongue deeper, slid his hands
down to her hips, and pulled her closer, fitting her against him.
He groaned, a low husky sound that sent her mind spinning with the
incredible power she realized she held over him.

The door creaked open. “The photographers
will be here by tomorrow, count on it.” The redhead snapped a
picture of them with her tiny digital camera. “I’m not about to
lose out on everything.”

The sound of the door
banging closed again penetrated Nyssa’s foggy mind, and she pushed
on Solo’s chest.
A picture.
Robert.

No.
Had she forgotten who she was with? Who she wasn’t with?
Impending doom swept through her yet no feelings of guilt followed.
Embarrassment yes, because she was attacking Solo--the man who
claimed ardently they were buddies.

But his reaction toward her had changed too.
Perhaps he responded to every woman who threw herself at him.

No. When she first saw him through the
window on the door, he’d been trying to untangle himself from the
redhead.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

Solo released her slowly, looking at her in
a different light. He wondered why he was so suddenly and so hotly
attracted to Nyssa Harrington. Then he set his hands on her
shoulders further distancing himself, yet unwilling to break all
physical contact. Forcing a smile, he reminded himself this was
Nyssa, his friend and confidant, not a plaything. He told himself
he was a louse for taking advantage of her good nature. She
deserved better. With great effort, he willed his breathing back to
a slower cadence.

“This won’t happen again,” he said.

The sound of spinning tires in loose dirt
pressed home the point they needn’t continue the charade. Nyssa
stepped back visibly shaken by the encounter, and he wondered which
bothered her the most, the kiss or the words the redhead threw at
them. He squeezed her hand and let go. It wasn’t right, she was
engaged and here he was like a lovesick school boy kissing her.
What the hell was he thinking?

Oh, he knew why he kissed her. For the first
time in their long history together, he saw her as a woman, not a
pal, and he wanted to find out how she felt in his arms. But why
had she kissed him back? Kissed him, like she wanted nothing more
than to melt into him, give her whole heart to him.

The redhead’s photographs would be spread
all over the latest tabloid as well as the internet within
twenty-four hours. For Nyssa’s sake he hoped old Robert didn’t pay
attention to the paparazzi. If he did, he was in for an eyeful.

Her reaction to all this was bound to set in
soon, if it hadn’t already. Nyssa’s eyes were huge, slightly
unfocused, and they began to shimmer with moisture.

“Photographs?” She looked unsteady,
appearing as if she’d crumble at any moment.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“How?”

Oh, hell
. He didn’t have any idea. All he had in working order was
his cell and he was sure his grandfather would take delight in this
new development. The Colonel was not above a little, even a lot of
scandal if it meant he’d get his way.

And, Solo admitted, albeit reluctantly, he’d
never forget that kiss. Not in a million years.

“The Colonel--he’ll stop the pictures.”

Nyssa gave a desperate laugh. “Robert will
have a fit when he sees this. The tabloids won’t be fair to him. It
will be all over the internet.”

“He won’t see the picture.”

“You can’t know that.”

Her lashes were lowered in a feeble attempt
to hide her expression. He wanted to know what she felt, what hurt
so he could heal the wound. So he could protect her from the
onslaught of the media. He didn’t want to admit he was lying, that
there was no way in hell he could stop the pictures.

“I should apologize. I didn’t think.”

He could see how awful she felt, and the
need to reassure her was instantaneous. A soft half-smile formed on
his lips. “I bet you never kissed old Robert like that.”

“Sure. Make fun of me.” Looking
self-conscious, she fiddled with a tear on her shirt. Suddenly she
seemed to snap out of the depression she’d been in since the
redhead left. “That’s playing dirty, Solo. What makes you think
Robert can’t kiss as well as you? And you know what? You had a lot
of nerve dragging me all the way out here to help you with
research. Seems to me that lady knows her way around the bedroom
and cameras and by this time tomorrow you’ll have a whole crew at
your disposal. So why did you need me?”

He shrugged and tried to stifle the helpless
expression he knew he couldn’t hide from her. “I could hardly use
force. I tried every way I knew how to persuade them to leave.”

“The redhead wasn’t the first?”

“God, no. There’s been so many I’ve lost
count. Every one said either the article or grandfather sent
them.”

“Well, they all fit the description, didn’t
they? Eager to jump into your bed.”

Nyssa blushed again. Solo grinned, liking
that particular shade. He wondered what else would make her
blush.

Then he caught himself, berating his body
and his mind for their treacherous reactions to one kiss and his
own eagerness to get her into his bed. Nyssa deserved better from
him.

Meanwhile, Nyssa walked out the door and he
knew he had to stop her. Just because the redhead was gone didn’t
mean he could carry on without Nyssa. He heaved a relieved sigh
when she came back with her shoulder bag and plopped it on the
floor.

“Where is my bedroom?” she asked then
realized the implications of the small cabin and colored again.

He might as well give up any ideas of
controlling his body. Every time she spoke she blushed and that
started his brain waves working overtime. Bedroom conjured all
kinds of images he’d rather ignore.