His was the only car in sight.
Thrusting his door open, Luke got out. Earth and rocks had been heaped to make an artificial barrier from the lake, barring his view. He ran down the last of the slope, rounded the corner and saw in front of him a dark stretch of water, pebbled with raindrops, and a small wooden jetty.
A daysailer was moored at the jetty. Katrin was kneeling on the wet boards, searching for something in her duffel bag. Her back was toward him.
She was safe.
For a moment Luke stood still, all his pent-up breath whooshing from his lungs. She wasn’t out on the lake. She hadn’t drowned. She was right here in front of him. Safe.
She was also quite alone, and without any visible means of transportation.
Slowly he walked toward her, his hair already plastered to his skull, his T-shirt clinging to his chest. Another spectacular jag of lightning lit up the whole scene; her shirt was pink, her cap a fluorescent green. Like a drumroll, thunder ushered him onto the wharf.
Enter the hero, Luke thought. Although Katrin would more likely categorize him as the villain; and she had clearly no need of rescue, which is what heroes were supposed to do. As he stepped across the first couple of planks, the vibrations of his steps must have alerted her. She lifted her head sharply, gazing right at him; for a moment he saw the exhilaration still on her face, her wide smile and dancing eyes.
The terror that had kept his foot hard on the accelerator all the way across the island fled, replaced by a tumultuous rage. He grated, “Why are you looking so damned pleased with yourself?”
The laughter vanished from her face. She pushed herself upright, swinging her bag in one hand. “If you really want to know,” she said coldly, “I was congratulating myself on how well I handled the boat once the wind came up.”
“You were a fool to be out in this weather!”
“Thank you for that resounding vote of confidence.”
He stepped closer, water gurgling beneath the boards. “A south wind and a lightning storm—are you crazy? Or just plain suicidal?”
“Neither one,” she flared. “Why don’t you go back to the resort where you belong, Luke MacRae? Where, in theory at least, you know what you’re talking about.”
He took her by the arm, rain sluicing his face. “It so happens that right now I do know what I’m talking about—if you’d gotten in trouble out there, someone would have had to rescue you. You’d have been risking the lives of other people just so you could get some cheap thrills. I used the wrong word—that’s not crazy. It’s totally irresponsible.”
She tried to pull free, her blue eyes blazing. “You seem to be forgetting something—I got back ahead of the storm and I didn’t risk anyone’s life. Including my own. Anyway, what the hell are you doing here? I can’t tell you how much I dislike you following me around like this.”
Luke’s answer was to grab her by the shoulders, pull her toward him and kiss her hard on the mouth.
Her response was instant and unmistakable. She flung her arms around his waist and kissed him back. Passionately. Generously. Recklessly.
As the contact ripped through him, another stroke of lightning lit the wharf with an eerie blue light. Thunder rattled through the trees, where the wind moaned like a creature in distress. But Luke scarcely noticed.
Katrin was soaked to the skin; he circled her waist, drawing her closer, trying to shelter her. One hand moved up her spine until her long ponytail hung like wet rope over his forearm. Then her lips opened to the urgent probing of his tongue. She pressed herself against him, her fingertips digging into his back, kneading his muscles. In a dizzying surge of pure lust, Luke felt her tongue dance with his.
She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He’d been right all along. Fiercely and wondrously grateful, he grasped her by the hips and pulled them toward him, so that she could be in no doubt of his response. The wet fabric of her jeans was clammy and cold beneath his palms; yet inwardly Luke was on fire.
She was moving against him with a kind of coltish awkwardness that was eager, yet somehow untutored. She couldn’t be a virgin, he thought distantly. Of course not. Anna had said Katrin was choosy…but surely not to that extent? He muttered against her mouth, “Let’s run for the car—you’re soaked.”
“So are you,” she whispered, cupping his face in her palms, her eyes brilliant as stars, as eerily blue as the lightning.
She’d bewitched him, he thought. She could have been a spirit from the depths of the lake; yet simultaneously she was flesh and blood, wholly and utterly desirable.
With a muffled groan Luke kissed her again, moving his lips over hers in a voyage of discovery that he wanted never to end. Her cheekbones, the sweep of her forehead, the firm line of her jaw…he wanted to know them all, to put his mark on them so that they were his alone. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely, “so incredibly responsive…you taste of raindrops.”
She gave him another of those passionate kisses, her fingers running through his wet hair and down his nape. She couldn’t have missed his shudder of response. Again he felt the thrust of her hips against his groin. Overwhelmed by a hunger as primitive as the thunder that was shaking the sky, Luke said, “Let’s go to the car.”
Katrin suddenly pulled her head back, her breasts rising and falling against the hard wall of his chest; as the rattle of thunder died away, he watched her struggle back to a different reality. “My bag,” she muttered, “I’ve got dry clothes in it.”
“Then we’ll take it,” Luke said, grinning at her with something of her own recklessness. “Although I like that shirt just the way it is.”
She glanced down. Her nipples were tight, the thin cotton outlining them as though she were naked. She bit her lip. “Luke, I—”
He leaned down, grabbed her bag, put his arms around her and lifted her from the ground. Luxuriating in her weight, he growled, “Enough talk,” and kissed her again, his blood thrumming through his veins.
“I can feel your heartbeat,” she said, twisting in his arms as she rested her hand against his chest, her face rapt.
Had he ever wanted a woman the way he wanted Katrin? It was as though that first kiss had opened floodgates too long closed, loosing a torrent of desire Luke was helpless to resist. He took the slope in long strides, the runoff saturating his sneakers, rain lashing his face. With his chin he tried to tuck Katrin’s head into his chest, craving to protect her; a far part of his brain noted that protectiveness. Noticed also that it was new to him. Completely new. Inexplicable. But very much there.
He shoved his thoughts away. This wasn’t the time for analysis. Reaching the car, he fumbled with the passenger door, and eased her onto the seat. Then he hurried around to his side, searching for the keys in his wet pocket. He’d get some heat in the car first.
He got in and slammed his door. In the sudden silence, shielded from the onslaught of the storm, Luke looked at the woman in the seat beside him.
In the few moments it had taken him to walk from one side of the car to the other, Katrin had retreated from him. Her bag was on her lap; she was hugging it to her chest as though to ward him off, her eyes wideheld in the gloom.
