Page 53 of Cutter’s Lady

“I mean, I’m not someone who has casual sex. I haven’t been with anyone since my divorce.”

“I didn’t say I was looking for experience, did I?”

“Well, a night of fun in a sleeping bag is not an experience I want.” Leslie did her best to sound cold even though she felt the exact opposite.

“No? Then why did you insist on coming with me?”

Leslie’s eyes widened. “You are so egotistical—you know why I came with you. I don’t want to just sit back where it’s safe and worry and wring my hands.”

“So you’re saying you’d be worried about me?” Leslie could hear the smile in Cutter’s voice and even though she would have been worried about him, there was no way she was admitting it now.

“Of course not. I’d—I’d be worried about Blake. Obviously you won’t allow yourself to get killed—you’re too fond of your favorite person to let that happen.” This elicited a laugh from him, which Leslie also found irritating. “Plus I need to be here. To help negotiate.”

“When you don’t know Spanish? I’m the one who’ll be doing the talking. You could have told me how much you’d pay back at the mission and saved yourself the trouble.”

“I need to make sure you really go to the guerrillas and find out whether Blake’s alive.”

“I told you I would. You could have asked Mary; I don’t go back on my word.”

Leslie was thrown. She didn’t need to ask Mary to know what she would say—especially after what Mary had told her about Cutter’s work for the mission. Leslie couldn’t really continue to entertain the idea that he was dishonest. Which meant Cutter was right. Why had she insisted on coming? He was an adventurer, true, but it was obvious that he wasn’t after money. What he did might be illegal, but it wasn’t dishonorable. And Leslie knew she wasn’t needed on the trip; in fact, she was probably a hindrance to Cutter. “I—I guess I didn’t want to be left out. I wanted to see for myself if Blake was alive. I wanted to be there.”

“Uh-huh.” His tone was unconvinced. “You’re scared to admit it, even to yourself. The fact is, lady, you wanted to be with me. Alone. You were hoping I’d seduce you.”

“That’s not true!”

“Like hell. I make you feel a way you never have with anyone else—not with that ex-husband or even the moronic friend of yours that was too dumb to want you. I make you hungry and reckless, and that terrifies you. You don’t want to accept that about yourself, so you don’t want to accept me. You fight me every step of the way. But no matter how you deny it, you can’t keep from feeling it. It’s why you came with me to San Cristóbal. It’s why you wouldn’t stay at the mission.”

Leslie was frozen in her sleeping bag. It wasn’t true. She hadn’t come because she was attracted to Cutter. “No,” she whispered. “No.”

Cutter watched her. He was as taut and sizzling inside as a wire of high-voltage electricity. He felt that if Leslie touched his skin, he might throw off sparks.

But there was something more important than his immediate hunger for her at stake now. What he had said to Leslie had simply popped into his head, surprising him almost as much as it did her, but as soon as he uttered the words, he had known they were the truth. He was certain of it. Leslie wanted him but fought against it. If he did manage to seduce her tonight, he would satisfy his immediate desires, but she would still be able to excuse what had happened and deny her feelings. Leslie would just call it a lapse in judgement.

He didn’t want that. He didn’t want her only now. He wanted her now and tomorrow and the day after that. He wanted her in his bed for a long, long time. He wanted her mouth and tongue and her soft breasts. He wanted her slender legs wrapping around him. He wanted her laughter, her smile, the tart, funny comments she’d make, her hand in his as they walked along. He wanted to hear her secrets and her ambitions. He wanted to sit beside her in a movie theater or lie with her on a blanket in a park and watch fat ducks waddle beside a pond. Mary had been right; what he felt for Leslie was perilously close to love. He wanted all of her, body and mind and spirit.

She had to realize on her own that she wanted him. They needed to be on equal footing; they needed to meet in raw need, without coaxing or artifice or seduction. He had to give her time to think about what he had said. He had to let her admit her desires. It was the only way he could hope to have Leslie as he really wanted her.

He released a long breath. “You can relax. I’ll leave you alone. Go to sleep.” His voice was harsh with self-restraint, and his mouth twisted. Leslie might go safely to sleep, but it sure as hell would be a long time before he would be able to.

***

They continued their journey the next morning with no mention of what had happened the night before. Leslie did her best not to think about what Cutter had said to her or the way her body had responded to the husky sexual suggestion of his words. However, it was hard to keep her mind off it. The ride, though an agony to her strained muscles, was frankly boring, giving her plenty of time to think.

Cutter couldn’t be right. She refused to believe that she had accompanied him to San Cristóbal because she had been attracted to him. Back when she had decided to accompany Cutter, she had still totally disliked him. She had come because back then she had been afraid he would double cross her. She was used to being the one at the wheel; she couldn’t have stood to wait in the States hoping to hear from a man she didn’t know, much less trust.

But things had changed since then and that explanation no longer held the weight it had before. When she thought about the trip and analyzed her feelings, she realized that she had actually enjoyed the time they’d spent in San Cristóbal. It seemed absurd. She had endured dirt, heat, and poor food. She had slept on the ground and the deck of a boat. She had been chased and spied on and had ridden across the most horrible roads in the world in the middle of the night, her heart in her throat for fear they would be stopped and questioned. She’d even gone across that river, rigid with terror that the ancient, narrow bridge might collapse at any minute beneath the weight of their truck. It seemed impossible that she could have enjoyed even a moment of it. Yet that was the main feeling in her heart. Despite the fear, despite the hardship, despite the grimness of their purpose, when she thought of what they had gone through, she wanted to smile. She was warm inside, even amused. What could possibly have made her enjoy the journey except being in Cutter’s company?”

She thought of Cutter’s passionate kisses. She thought of his smile and the sight of his strong hands gripping the steering wheel of the truck. She thought of his kindness on the boat as he tried to negate the effects of her hangover. Even his attempt to make her remain behind at the mission brought a warmth to her chest; he had been concerned about her safety.

He stirred her. He was tempting. She knew sex with him would be a million times more exciting than it had been with Blake. But he was also rootless, she reminded herself. When this trip was over she would never see him again. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had tagged along because she wanted to be with him and had hoped he would seduce her. Even so, she ought to be more aware and in control of her baser instincts. She knew better than to get involved with him. For her there couldn’t be casual sex with no strings attached, like Cutter would want.

If she slept with him, she knew she would fall in love with him. Even the fact that she was considering it probably meant she was far too close to falling in love with him as it was. She would wind up broken-hearted. She’d been disappointed when Michael had told her he had no feelings for her. But she’d never felt the overwhelming passion with him she felt with Cutter. It hadn’t even been that hard waiting until after her divorce to divulge her own feelings. Leslie couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to sleep with Cutter and then be rejected by him. She couldn’t let that happen.

They said little as they rode along. Cutter didn’t want to break into Leslie’s reverie. When they did speak, it was about practical things. The day followed the pattern of the one before. They rode and rode, stopping every now and then to stretch their legs. As dusk fell, they halted to set up the tent and eat dinner. Cutter was down to the last cigarette in his pack and he saved it for after they finished. He knew the smoke bothered Leslie when she was eating. After Cutter doused the fire, they retired to the tent. They each crawled inside their sleeping bags and lay tensely, pretending they were asleep and listening for the other’s breathing. Both awoke the next morning with heavy eyes from lack of sleep.

Cutter was short-tempered throughout breakfast, and Leslie wisely decided not to speak to him. He packed up their supplies and loaded them onto the donkeys, and they set out once more. Leslie felt sweaty and grimy, even though she had changed into fresh clothes that morning. What she really needed was a bath, but there was no possibility of that. Even if she had been willing to wash in a chilly mountain stream, their campsite last night had not had one.

The trail grew so overgrown that it disappeared entirely. They dismounted from the donkeys and led the animals. Finally, Cutter had to take out his machete and hack his way through the undergrowth. Leslie followed dispiritedly. She was weary of the noises, heat and damp of the jungle. She was also tired of the mosquitoes and gnats that buzzed around her, not to mention Cutter’s bad temper and the soreness of her muscles. Even if she was still awed by the beauty of the jungle, her phone had died and she’d used up her back-up battery, so she had no way to take pictures of it. She wished she were sitting on a nice wide porch with a fan turning overhead and a tall, cool drink in her hand. She wished—

Cutter stopped abruptly, and Leslie bumped into the back of his donkey, setting it to dance skittishly. Her head snapped up, and irritated comments sprang to her lips, only to die there without being uttered. A man stood across their path, holding a machine gun pointed straight at them.