Enemy Mine Page 6

  Under his skin. Damn her, she was under his skin, like a thorn buried too deeply to get at. What would it take to get at that maddening thorn, to get her out of his mind, what would exorcise memories of her that had haunted him since the first time her amber eyes had blazed at him in a wild temper?

  Always before, physical possession of a woman who attracted him had been enough. The first sexual excitement satisfied, boredom or restlessness had crept in. And it would again, he decided. If he took Tyler, she would no longer have the power to haunt his dreams. It was just desire, and the unusual circumstances of their past meetings had kept that desire simmering.

  Unfortunately he couldn’t believe that Tyler would make it easy for him. He was reasonably sure she felt an attraction to him, but there was something . . . stubborn in Tyler, something guarded and aloof.

  And she wouldn’t lie down with an enemy, except to reluctantly and warily sleep.

  Tyler became conscious of the silence then, and when her eyes met the heat of his something turned over inside her. The skin of his shoulder burned her hand suddenly, and she drew away, almost dropping the folded linen of his handkerchief. “If—if we had some ice or something . . .”

  “I’m fine,” he said in an oddly still voice. “Thank you for saving my life, Ty.”

  It seemed a strange thing for him to say, not because he didn’t owe her gratitude, but because there was little of that between them. Just acceptance or rejection, with few words about the matter. And his thanks bothered her, because his eyes were still hot.

  She cleared her throat. “Don’t mention it.” She looked away from him, and when her eyes fell on the pot of stew her stomach growled audibly. She laughed unsteadily. “Somebody just rang the dinner bell. Is that stuff ready?”

  “It’s ready.” He was casual again, digging into the backpack for tin plates and forks. He dished out the stew and handed her a plate, then began eating himself.

  They had avoided it. Tyler was dismayed and unsettled when that thought occurred to her, because she couldn’t avoid the realization that both of them were all too aware of the fact that there was a point of danger, a point of no return, and that they had retreated from it again with wary care. But what disturbed her more than anything else was that it was happening more often, this electric sensual awareness.

  Enemy, she reminded herself with a surge of bitterness she was hardly conscious of. He’ll trick me if he can. When this partnership no longer suits him. He’ll trick me again. Maybe he’s tricking me now.

  And she had to be on guard against that.

  Halfway through the meal, Tyler realized that she was exhausted. It came over her suddenly, in a wave, leaving her feeling decidedly shaky. Trailing Kane and his captors, and then waiting tensely for an opportunity to get him out of there, she’d felt no tiredness even though they had been on the move since dawn. And while they were putting distance between themselves and the bandits she’d been conscious of nothing but relief that the episode had ended in their triumph.

  But now she was utterly tired, her eyes heavy. Dawn had lightened the sky and a few birds greeted the day merrily, but thunder rumbled a soft warning in the distance. She thought about that muzzily, remembering how much she liked to sleep when it was raining. And she started when Kane reached to take her empty plate away from her.

  “Time for bed,” he told her, unusually gentle. “Let’s get the sleeping bag back under the lean-to.”

  Tyler moved off the cushioning softness, yawning uncontrollably, and the moment Kane had the bag positioned she was crawling into it. The lean-to provided a canopy of branches and leaves above her head, and she gazed upward sleepily while she listened to Kane moving about the camp. He was cleaning up, she realized, washing the pots and things, packing them away again.

  Ready to be on the move again, instantly, at the need.

  Tired as she was, she couldn’t fall asleep until he joined her, and she was too sleepy to think about that. She waited, yawning, listening to him. The first patter of raindrops came before he did, but then he was sliding into the bag beside her. Tyler felt the rough material of his jeans brushing against her bare legs, pleasurably scratchy, and wondered vaguely if the ruana had ridden up to her waist the way it felt as if it had. Probably. Not that she cared.

  “Will this thing leak?” she asked drowsily.

  “Let’s hope not. Get some sleep, Ty.”

  She fell asleep with the suddenness of a child, while Kane lay awake and stared at the branches overhead and listened to the rain. She had left her hair unbraided; he could feel strands of the silky stuff beneath his shoulder.

  And his mind taunted him with visions of what he would see if he were to throw back the top layer of the sleeping bag; he knew damned well her woolen garment had been pushed up to her waist when she’d slid into the bag.

  She hadn’t turned her back to him this time, and he could feel her warm curves pressed against his side. He wondered what she’d do if he began kissing her, touching her. Respond, probably, and there was no vanity in that thought. Tyler sleepy and tired was sweet and vague and vulnerable; he’d noticed that about her before. She never got cranky because of weariness, and all her prickly barriers came crashing down.

  He was tired himself, and inclined to be reckless with the throbbing need of his body to taunt him, but he couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability.

  He’d be just what she thought he was.

  And why did that bother him? Why did he care, as long as the end result was achieved; she’d be out of his system then, out of his head, and the tormenting desire would be sated. He could take her now, right now, drive her as crazy as she drove him and watch her face as passion made of it something elementally beautiful. He could feel her warmth sheathe him, push his body and his senses to the edge of madness and beyond. He could steal an interlude of pleasure from her, just as he’d stolen a golden figurine and a few other antiquities. With trickery and treachery.

  She’d hate him afterward. Hate him because it would be stealing, allowing her no chance to give. Hate him for a basic dishonesty that had nothing to do with their “anything goes” games. But she’d be out of his system then. Wouldn’t she? The partnership would be null and void, and there would be no Tyler to ever again fight at his side.

  Kane linked his hands together behind his neck, moving carefully so as not to disturb her. The rain was beating steadily against the branches of the lean-to and thunder rumbled, but Kane was listening to his own thoughts.

  He should have been thinking about the chalice and the hefty fee Joshua Phillips would pay him to bring it back to New York. That fee would make the last payment on the ranch, and the place was self-sustaining now; he could retire. Could he do that? Yes, he thought he could. He’d spent ten years roaming the world, and it was getting harder now to leave home.

  How did Tyler feel about ranches? Could she ride? She could ride a camel, he remembered, and smiled despite himself as he recalled that occasion. But his smile faded.

  What in God’s name was wrong with him? Thinking of Tyler on his ranch . . . that was absurd. And only moments before he had thought about stealing from her because it didn’t seem possible she would give to him . . . not that. Not Tyler.

  She moved then, murmuring in her sleep, turning to snuggle close to him, her cheek on his chest, one hand sliding upward to touch his neck, warm and boneless. Kane felt everything in him go still for an instant, and then he lowered his arm until it curved around her shoulders, and rested his chin in the fragrant silk of her hair.

  Something inside her trusted him, even if she didn’t know it consciously. And he couldn’t take advantage of that.

  The rain droned steadily on, and it was growing hotter and more humid, but Kane didn’t notice. Tension seeped from his muscles as he held her, felt her soft breath, and he fell asleep without even realizing he was going to.

  TYLER FELT VAGUELY bothered, and she realized only gradually that it was because of the rain. Or, more pr
ecisely, because the rain had stopped. The steady sounds, the pattering and the splashing, had helped to make her sleep deep and dreamless. But now the sounds were only faint and sporadic, an occasional splash, a minute thud, and she felt she should awake.

  She moved restlessly, and the faint, pleasant scratching of something against her cheek woke her fully. Bewildered, she opened her eyes to see a thick pelt of curling black hair. She stared for a moment, then jerked her head off Kane’s chest. She felt his arm around her then, and heat suffused her face as her eyes met his wide-awake gaze.

  “You sleep like a cat,” he murmured, his free hand lifting to smooth a strand of her hair back. “A trusting cat. Utterly boneless. Maybe you trust me more than you know.”

  She couldn’t read his face. What was he thinking? Why was he talking to her like this? She wanted to push away from him and quickly get out of the bag with what grace and dignity she could muster, but another part of her was conscious of a suspended waiting, a deep, churning uncertainty.

  The point of danger. Again, the point of danger. She could feel herself quivering like some wild thing scenting peril. But she couldn’t find the strength or the will to draw back.

  Kane’s free hand slipped over her back to her waist, rubbing lightly. “You weren’t bothered by the bra this time. You sleep in the buff when you’re alone, don’t you, Ty?”

  “That’s—none of your business.” But she was shaken because he’d guessed right.

  “I suppose not.” The hand at her shoulder moved, his fingers curling around her neck beneath the heavy weight of her hair and drawing her slowly downward. He took his time, giving her the opportunity to pull away if she wanted. But Tyler stared into his eyes, her own startled and wavering, and though the nape of her neck was tense, she didn’t resist him.

  He had kissed her twice before, once roughly and half in anger because she had expected him to try, once very briefly in relief and thanks because she had saved his life when she could have left him to shift for himself. This time, Kane intended to leave her with a memory. He might never be granted this opportunity again, and he meant to make certain that Tyler faced the fact that there was something between them, something more than rivalry and mistrust.

  He molded his lips to hers, guiding her head firmly, watching until her lids fluttered and then closed. Her mouth was cool and stiff beneath his for a long moment, but his tongue glided insistently between her lips and a helpless shiver went through her. He could feel her fingers curl against his chest suddenly, the oval nails digging into his skin, and then her mouth warmed, opened to him.

  The wet heat of her mouth sent shudders through Kane’s big body, but he concentrated only on the fusion of the kiss. His tongue touched hers silkily, demanding a response, receiving it instantly but tentatively. His hands roved to her waist, where he could feel the bunched material of the ruana, and the thought of the scant covering over her nakedness maddened him. The material had slid apart at her sides during the night, and his thumbs found the sensitive satin flesh, stroked it.

  Tyler felt that touch as if it were fire, and when dizziness swept over her she didn’t even try to fight it. He was taking her mouth, she realized dimly, possessing it and branding it his own, and she had never felt anything like that before. The roughness of his morning beard was a heady caress, and her skin tingled with the contact. He was seducing her, slowly and inexorably, kindling a fire where none had ever before blazed. She was hardly conscious that her hands had curled around his neck, barely aware that she had drawn one leg up over his, frustrated by denim when she wanted to feel his flesh against her own.

  Then he was moving her, lifting her with his easy strength until she lay fully on him, the close confines of the sleeping bag pressing her tightly against his big, hard body. Her legs parted instinctively to lie on either side of his, and her body responded wildly to the swelling response she could feel from him. The denim between them was a rough caress and a curse, and his every faint movement was a searing jolt to her senses.

  She felt no panic, no smothering sensation of helplessness and vulnerability. There was no hard shadow over her, blocking out the light and holding her down. There was only heat and a building tension that was restless and a strange, unfamiliar combination of pleasure and pain.

  Kane hadn’t meant for this to go so far; he hadn’t expected such a total response from her. But her response was total, and his hunger for her had burst out of control. She was soft and warm as she lay on him, her breasts pressed to his chest, and he was drunk with the feel of her, the taste of her, the heady feminine smell of her. His hands slipped down over her hips until the firm mounds of her buttocks filled them, and he moved beneath her, driven, feeling he’d explode if he didn’t take her, didn’t roll over and bury himself in the warmth of her body.

  But it was then that some ever-vigilant sense warned him of danger, and Kane forced his eyes to open and his lips to leave hers. Instantly, without thought, his hands jerked from beneath the quilted bag and shot upward, bracing the heavy branches of the lean-to a scant few seconds before the structure would have collapsed on them both.

  Tyler was unaware of it at first. She was trembling, her breathing shallow and her body aching with an emptiness she’d never felt before. His chest rose and fell raggedly beneath her breasts, and she felt a blind, mad urge to find his mouth again because she desperately needed that heated touch.

  But sanity penetrated the veils of her emotions, and her dazed eyes finally absorbed the rigid posture of his strong arms. Logic told her then that the rain had soaked an already marshy ground, causing the lean-to’s support posts to sink, and that the structure was heavy enough to have given them a nasty jolt.

  Tyler moved without thinking about it, her actions dictated by some rational corner of her bewildered mind. She twisted, reaching for the zipper of the sleeping bag, trying frantically to ignore the screamingly aware nerves of her body as well as the rough sound he made as she moved on top of him. She could feel her face flaming. Unzipping the bag, she managed to squirm off Kane and get out, yanking the ruana down as she scrambled to her feet.

  “Can you hold it a minute?” she asked him huskily.

  “I can hold it.” His voice was harsh, and his green eyes were blazing.

  Ten feet away, Tyler found a sturdy limb with a forked end. She brought it back and kneeled to jam it under the crosspiece of the lean-to, bracing the other end firmly against the ground. The structure wobbled a bit, but it held.

  Silently Kane crawled from the sleeping bag.

  Tyler was holding the limb with both hands, staring at her fingers with a baffled expression. Then she looked at him, and the perplexity in her amber eyes was almost pain. “Another trick, Kane?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Yanking his shirt from the line, he shrugged into it and growled, “You know damned well it wasn’t. And you could have stopped me with a word, Ty. Think about that.”

  She was still frowning, trying to fit the action to the man she thought she knew, unwilling to examine her own participation. “You must have had a reason,” she murmured almost to herself. “Something to gain by it.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, truly recognizing only then the gulf that lay between them. “Oh, I had a reason,” he told her bitterly. “I wanted you, Tyler, pure and simple. And you wanted me, whether you’ll admit it or not. But we’re just enemies under a flag of truce, aren’t we? I should have remembered that.” Turning abruptly, he strode off through the woods.

  Tyler stared blankly after him.

  chapter four

  SEDUCE AN ENEMY and earn his—her—trust?

  Had that thought occurred to Kane as well as to her? It was the only reason that made sense, and Tyler accepted it with a flash of pain that surprised her. She still refused to think about her own participation. Fiercely she reminded herself that he was adept at trickery, and ruthless. She didn’t doubt his desire, but told herself that he was an innately sexual man; other men ha
d found her attractive, and Kane apparently did, as well.

  Physically at least.

  She ignored the pain that she didn’t understand, concentrating instead on this situation. Partners. Fine, then. Partners for the duration. And she wouldn’t be seduced, wouldn’t allow this insane attraction she felt for him to lower her guard.

  By the time he returned to their camp nearly an hour later, Tyler was dressed, her hair braided, her control and her guard firmly in place. The sleeping bag had been rolled up and tied to his backpack. She had made coffee, and had unearthed, from that rather amazing pack of his, pancake mix and canned milk. A stack of golden cakes was piled on a tin plate, and she was paying strict attention to the task of fixing more when he approached.

  “If you had told me there was canned milk,” she said mildly without looking up, “I would have put some in my coffee last night.”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  His voice was calm and guarded, she reflected, like hers had been. It seemed they had both decided to ignore what had almost happened between them. It was safer that way, she reminded herself. Much safer. But she felt cheated somehow, and a part of her recognized that both she and Kane were fighters, that it was unnatural for them and totally out of character to ignore this particular battle.

  But this battle, she also recognized, was too dangerous to be fought. Not here. Not now. And not between the two of them. No matter who won or lost, the scars would mark them both for life.

  She stole glances at him as they both ate breakfast silently. He had shaved, and she couldn’t help but think of how sensual his morning beard had felt against her skin. Realizing where her thoughts had gone, she tried desperately to redirect them. But it was impossible.

  Was it only the situation that was different this time, the fact that they were too alone here, too intimate? Or had their relationship, sporadic though it was, always been heading toward this point? Was it possible, she suddenly asked herself, to feel so many strong emotions for a man, even though most of them were negative ones, without feeling also a primitive attraction?