Maggie leaned against the door for a long time. She had been crazy to come here to this far-off place with danger at every turn. Her heart was racing and her blood rushed madly through her body. Yet a small smile touched her mouth in spite of the adrenaline pumping through her. She couldn't remember feeling so alive before. She wasn't even certain she had been afraid, she was so excited. It was as if she had been walking through life asleep to all the possibilities. Now, here, in the primitive jungle, every sense was enhanced and on fire.
She stepped away from the door, looked up at the ceiling with its fans and wide beams. This house suited her with its wide-open spaces and interesting carvings. She began to walk through it, confident that there were no animals in her home. It was exhilarating to feel as if she had closed out all danger and left it on the other side of the door. She picked up her packs and began an inspection of the downstairs. The rooms were large and each had the same high ceiling and sparse furniture, all made with a hard, dark wood. Curiously, in two of the bedrooms she discovered claw marks, as if some very large cat had marked the wall up near the ceiling. Maggie stared at the marks, puzzled by how they had been put there.
In the large kitchen she found a note on the small refrigerator penned in a masculine scrawl explaining how the lights worked and where to find everything she might need for the first night in her family home. There was a bowl of fresh fruit left for her and she gratefully ate a juicy mango, her parched throat savoring the sweetness. She touched the large, looping letters of the note in a silent thanks with a caressing fingertip, strangely drawn to the handwriting. She turned the note over and over, brought it to her nose, inhaling the scent. She could actually smell him. Brandt Talbot, the man who had written the note, had lived in the house.
He was everywhere. His scent. He seemed to envelop her with his presence. Once she was aware of him, she realized his touch was everywhere. He lived in the house. The polished wood and gleaming tiles had to have been his doing. The artwork, which appealed to her, had to be his.
The stairs were wide and curved in a sweeping circle up to the next level. Incredible photos of every wild creature imaginable hung on the walls going up the stairs. The photographs were rare treasures. The photographer had captured the very essence of wildlife, unusual action shots and beautiful pictures of plants, close-ups that depicted the dewy petals. She leaned closer, already knowing who had taken the photographs. In the corner of each picture was a four-line poem. Reading the words made her feel as if she had accidentally connected intimately with the poet. Each poem had been written in a looping masculine scrawl. The sentiments were thoughtful, beautiful, romantic even. It couldn't have been written by anyone else. Brandt Talbot had the soul of a poet. He was an unusual man and she was already intrigued.
She inhaled again as she climbed the stairs, drawing the scent of him deep into her lungs. He seemed to belong. Here in the house. Deep inside of her where she breathed. The mysterious Brandt Talbot with his incredible photography skills and his love of wood and wildlife and beautiful words. He seemed familiar, a man who shared her favorite things.
Weariness was making her droop. Maggie became aware of how uncomfortable her skin was, wet and sticky, as she made her way up to the second story. She found a bedroom at the end of the hallway that was to her liking. The bed was made up invitingly, the fans were already circulating air, and there was a spacious private bath off the room.
She put her packs on the dresser, silently claiming the room as her own. Above the bed, up in the corner, she saw the claw marks etched deeply into the wood and she shivered. Her gaze remained there as she tossed the khaki shirt aside and peeled off the wet T-shirt. It was a relief to have the soaked material away from her tender skin.
Maggie stood in the center of the room wearing only her low-riding jeans, and she sighed with relief. Wet clothes clinging to her skin called up a strange sensation, almost as if something lying dormant beneath her skin stirred for a moment, tried to break through her pores, then subsided, leaving her itchy and tender and very irritable. She stretched her sore muscles, lifted her hands to take down her hair, shaking it loose so she could wash the heavy mass in the shower.
Her boots came off next, then her socks. It was heaven to be barefoot, her soles cool on the floorboards. Much more comfortable, she took the time to look around the large room. The second-story bedroom was spacious with wide beams and little furniture. The bed was huge with four intricately carved posters rising halfway to the ceiling. Several fans whirled above her head, providing a welcome breeze in the room. Her gaze touched once more on the strange claw marks, slid away, then returned as if drawn by some unseen force.
She crossed the room to stare up at them, finally climbed up on the bed and stretched to touch them with her fingertips. She traced each mark. The wood was shredded; the claws had dug in deep. Was it from a long-ago pet kept in the house? Something wild that had marked its territory?
The moment the unbidden thought came to her, she shivered, the marks taking on life, burning her fingertips so that she pulled her hand quickly away from the wall. Surprised, she glanced at her seared fingers but found them without a blemish. Maggie put her fingers in her mouth, soothing the sensitive nerve endings with her tongue.
She wandered across the room to the windows. The panes in the room seemed overlarge, big enough to climb through should she need to do so. Each room had similar size windows with the inevitable balcony around them. A grid of bars shielded each window, making her very aware she was in a wild setting.
Maggie stood at the window, staring out into the night. Into the rain and the forest. She could see the leaves waving and dancing in the trees as the wind increased in strength. Bone tired, she began to slowly peel away her jeans, wet from the tropical rain and sticking to her. She wanted a shower and then to lie down and sleep as long as possible. She didn't want to think about how wild her surroundings were, how she seemed so different here in this exotic setting. She didn't want to be aware of her body, every nerve ending heightened by the sultry air and danger surrounding her. She stood naked, staring out the window into the darkness, unable to look away.
The glass reflected back her image as a mirror might. The strange heaviness was on her again, a burning that pooled low and wicked in her body, throbbing and demanding relief. It was even stronger than the last time, as if a wave of sexual hunger gripped her, settled in her, demanded satisfaction. Maggie leaned closer to peer into the glass, inspecting her body. Her skin was unmarred, smooth and inviting.
Separated only by a thin pane of glass, Brandt's breath stilled in his body. She was so enticing with her innocent eyes and sultry mouth. Her body was made to be touched, to be enjoyed. Made for him. His heart thundered out a savage beat and his body shuddered with anticipation.
He could almost feel the texture of her skin, soft and inviting. He knew the way their bodies would come together in frantic heat, in a firestorm of passion and hunger. When she moved, her body was a seductive invitation, her full breasts drawing his heated gaze. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her skin so that she glistened like the petals of a flower after a rain. He locked his muscles to keep from leaping through the window and lapping at every inch of exposed skin. He wanted to suckle her lush breasts, feel her fiery heat surround him. He wanted to be buried deep inside of her. He had so many plans, each more erotic than the last, and looking at her, he vowed to have her in every way possible. Drawn by the sight of her body unveiled to him, he pressed closer, his eyes gleaming gold in the dark.
Strangely, Maggie felt eyes on her, watching her. The impression was so strong she stepped even closer to the window. She doubted if any human would be out standing on the balcony in the deluge, especially with a panther near. Yet the feeling persisted that her lover had arrived and he waited for her. Wanted her. Was desperate for her. The feeling was strong, overwhelming, as if she could feel his savage hunger beating at her in her mind. His eyes were caressing every inch of her body.
Her hands moved up
her narrow rib cage on the path she wanted him to take. She cupped the weight of her breasts in her hands, an offering, a blatant temptation. She needed to feel him touching her, his thumbs teasing her nipples into hard peaks. Maggie's skin was hot and flushed, her body aching for release. When she moved, it was a sensual flow of muscles and curves, her hands following the lines of her body, drawing attention to the fiery triangle of curls at the junction of her legs.
Her thighs felt smooth, her hips rounded. She ached for her lover to find her, to come to her, to touch her skin and find every secret place on her body. Her long hair fell around her like a silken cloak, strands sliding over her breasts and back as she moved, caressing her breasts and buttocks. The sensation caused her body to clench tightly in reaction, her blood to thicken and her breath to grow labored.
Maggie placed her hands on the glass pane. She wanted. She hungered. For whom she didn't know, but the feeling was strong in her. And it wasn't sweet or pleasant. The erotic images dancing in her head were rough and consuming, not of a gentle, considerate lover, but one taking her in a wild frenzy of lust, of elemental, savage desire.
The pictures in her head bewildered her and she turned away from the window. Maggie padded barefoot to the shower, hoping to wash away the strange ideas in her head. The strange sensations in her body. She wasn't at all prepared for the way the tropical forest affected her, and she just wanted it to go away.
The water was cool on her skin. Maggie closed her eyes and savored the feel of it, the way it seemed to absorb into her tissues and pores. She was exhausted, wanting only to sleep, yet the fever in her blood was strong. A force of nature. She leaned against the wall of the shower and allowed the water to cascade over her breasts, massaging the terrible ache. If she belonged in this wild, primitive setting, did it mean the reaction of her body would never go away? Maggie patted her body dry, leaving some of the cooling water to dry beneath the fans.
She lay on the bed in the dark, listening to the rain. Outside her window the wind blew, and unfamiliar sounds of the jungle penetrated the walls of the house. She lay still with her heart beating in tune to the rain. She could feel the sheet beneath her skin. She found herself rubbing her body along the material, wanting to feel every inch of her skin touching it. She rolled seductively, stretched, came up on her hands and knees to push her bottom up in the air. All the while she throbbed and burned and nothing she did gave her relief.
Brandt watched as she was caught in the throes of the sexual heat of their race. She was the most sensuous creature he had ever seen. His body was on fire, painful, as she moved against the sheets. He watched her fingers move over skin that belonged to him. Touch places that were made for him. A snarl escaped, a low moan of hunger. The lust, the need was so strong he no longer cared about honor, about the future. He would have her tonight. Now. There would be no waiting.
And then she buried her face in the pillow and wept as if her heart were breaking. The sound stopped him cold. He stared at her, seeing her easily in the dark, and felt her fears, her loneliness. Felt her confusion and humiliation for things she couldn't hope to control or understand. He hadn't thought what changing her life so drastically would do to her, only what it would do for him. He crouched on the balcony and listened while she cried herself to sleep. Unexpectedly, his heart nearly shattered.
3
Maggie dreamt of a man's soothing voice. Of comforting arms. Of fur sliding sensuously next to her skin. Over her skin. Of padding through the darkened forest on four legs, not two. Of behaving outrageously, seductively, rolling and crouching to entice a male to her. She dreamt of torches flashing and the sound of gunshots. She dreamt of a man with a scent that filled her with longing.
She woke in late afternoon, her body sprawled naked, tangled in the sheet, with the memories of strange, disjointed dreams etched clearly in her mind. She became aware of sensation first, then sound. The raucous calls of birds. The hum of insects. The chattering of monkeys. The rain.
It was already humid and the fans were whirling to provide a semblance of relief from the sultry air. She turned her head toward the window and was surprised to find mosquito netting surrounding her bed. She reached out idly, not quite all the way awake, and pulled the netting to one side. She found herself blinking up at the most compelling, mesmerizing eyes she'd ever seen. Molten gold. Liquid. Hypnotic.
Her heart jumped and then began to pound out a rhythm of joy. Her small teeth bit into her lower lip. "What are you doing here?" Her voice came in a rush. He was the most physically intimidating man she had ever seen. She lay paralyzed, unable to move. She could only stare at him helplessly, shock mixing with a strange excitement.
Brandt pushed the netting into the corner, his gaze sliding possessively over her body. The sheet was tangled around her, revealing more than it hid. Her silken hair spilled around the pillow, a spun reddish-gold that matched the thatched curls peeking at him from the shadow between her legs. He swallowed the sudden dryness in his mouth. "I wanted to make certain you were all right. It occurred to me it wasn't safe leaving you alone in an unfamiliar house in the middle of a rain forest, so I stayed to protect you. I'm Brandt Talbot." One rounded breast was tantalizing him, drawing his heated gaze no matter how much he tried to impose discipline on himself.
Maggie felt the brush of flames from the burning intensity of his eyes as he looked at her body. With a small gasp of alarm, she sat up, dragging the sheet over her. "Good heavens, I don't have any clothes on!"
His perfectly sculpted mouth curved gently into a small smile. "I noticed."
"Well, don't notice." Holding the sheet up to her neck with one hand, she imperiously pointed toward the door with the other. He was the most alluring man she had ever seen. His hair was long and thick, jet-black, shiny enough to make her want to run her hands through it. Given the way she had been feeling the night before, she wasn't altogether certain it was safe for him to be in her bedroom. Especially when she was naked. "I'll get dressed and meet you downstairs in the kitchen."
His smile widened into a melting grin. "I brought you up food." He pulled a silver tray from atop the dresser and placed it on the bed. "I don't mind your state of . . . er . . . undress. It livens up the place."
She blushed, color creeping up her neck. There was fruit on the tray, a glass of cold juice, a mug of hot tea, and a colorful orchid. The flower was fresh. Exquisite. What kind of man would think to bring her something so beautiful on her first awakening in the rain forest? She stared from the tray to his masculine good looks. The man was all muscle, rippling biceps and wide shoulders. His eyes were mesmerizing, a burning intensity Maggie was lost in the moment their gazes met. She had never seen eyes like his before on a man. His eyes belonged on a creature of the jungle, a hunter, focused and intent on prey. Yet he had thought to bring her a flower on a silver tray of food.
Maggie looked hastily away from his eyes before she was lost forever in their mysterious depths. Lost forever in the contrast between predator and poet.
"I don't think this place needs livening up," she murmured, trying not to gape at him. There was no way she was going to try to eat fruit stark naked in bed with him staring at her with his sinful eyes. He was robbing her of speech. Of breath. Of good sense. Her entire body came alive with him in the room. It wasn't safe. That was all there was to it. "Really, you just wait downstairs and I'll be right down."
His gaze moved over her. Hot. Possessive. She held her breath. His look alone could send her body into meltdown.
His white teeth flashed briefly, leaving her with the impression of a predator as his smile faded. "I'll be waiting, Maggie," he said quietly as he left the room. His voice was low, compelling. A tone that seemed to seep through her pores to heat her blood. He had a voice, a body, eyes, and a mouth that were too sensually sinful, and she was afraid of succumbing to his blatant sex appeal in her present state. Fortunately, he had sounded a bit too aggressive. Too arrogant. There was something proprietary in his tone that set her t
eeth on edge. It was almost as if he had rubbed her fur the wrong way.
Maggie laughed aloud at the analogy. She was in the forest a day, but already she was embracing the wildlife. She tossed back the sheet and hurried to the bathroom. Brandt Talbot had the keys to every door in her house. The bar on the front door hadn't even slowed him down. She should be grateful to the man for being so concerned about her. He had slept in the house with her.
Had he come to her room in the middle of the night? Had he crept into her dreams with his amazing voice? She tried to reach for the elusive memories but all she could really think about was the way she had been on fire, the way she had needed to be touched, to be stroked. Had he seen her like that? The idea made her burn inside and out.
She stared at herself in the mirror, wanting to see if she looked as different as she felt. For the first time she noticed how incredibly large her green eyes were. Her pupils were tiny pinpricks in the light of day, protecting her eyes from the bright glare of daylight, although there was little sun. She stared, wondering at the illumination of her vivid green eyes as she spread toothpaste onto her brush. Her heart stopped, slamming hard in her chest, as she exposed her small white teeth. Sharpened canines gleamed at her, a wicked addition to her delicate looks.
Maggie covered her mouth, frightened, of the strange illusion. It had to be an illusion. Very slowly she took her hand away and stared at her exposed teeth. They were perfectly straight. Perfectly normal. She was losing her mind. Maybe Jayne had been right and she didn't belong in such a primitive setting. She had loved the thought of it for so long, maybe she was just too susceptible. On the other hand, it was the only time in her life she would be able to learn about her parents. She had never been a timid woman, or a nervous one. She had no fear of traveling on her own. She was well versed in martial arts and had confidence in herself in a tight situation, although here, in the wild forest, she felt so different, so unlike Maggie Odessa. Yet it wasn't in her to run.