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She explained as best she could in brief, disjointed phrases. “But it’s fine, really.”
“I’m not taking your word for it. Don’t worry about anything,” he told her. “I’ll handle everything from here. You’ll be brought to L.A. tonight and I’ll be at the airport to meet you. It’s a miracle that you survived.”
She glanced at Cooper, and said softly, “Yes, a miracle.”
Around noon they were taken across the street to a motel and assigned rooms in which to shower and change into clothes provided by the Canadian government.
At the door to her room, Rusty reluctantly let go of Cooper’s arm. She couldn’t bear to let him out of her sight. She felt alien, apart. None of this seemed real. Everything and everybody swam toward her like distorted faces out of a dream. She had difficulty matching words to concepts. Everything was strange—except Cooper. Cooper alone was her reality.
He seemed no more pleased with the arrangements than she, but it would hardly be suitable for them to share a motel room. He squeezed her hand and said, “I’ll be right next door.”
He watched her enter her room and safely close and lock the door before he went to his own. Once inside, he dropped into the only chair and covered his face with his hands.
“Now what?” he asked the four walls.
If only he had held off for one more night. If only she hadn’t asked that question of him yesterday morning after breakfast. If only she hadn’t been so desirable in the first place. If only they hadn’t been on the same airplane. If only it hadn’t crashed. If only some of the others had survived and they hadn’t been alone.
He could come up with thousands of “if onlys,” and the bottom line would still be that they’d made love all day yesterday and last night until the wee hours.
He didn’t regret it—not a single breathless second of it.
But he didn’t know how in the hell he was going to handle it from here. Rightfully, he should pretend that it hadn’t happened and ignore the shining recognition of mutual passion in her eyes. But that was just it: he couldn’t ignore her melting looks.
Nor could he callously disregard her dependency on him. The rules they’d laid down in the cabin were still in effect. She hadn’t acclimated yet. She was apprehensive. She had just survived a trauma. He couldn’t subject her to another one so soon. She wasn’t tough like him; she had to be treated with delicacy and tact. After the rough time he’d given her, he thought she deserved that much consideration.
Of course he was reconciled to having to turn his back on her. He wished she would turn hers on him first. That would relieve him of the responsibility of hurting her.
But dammit, she wouldn’t. And he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until it was absolutely necessary for them to part. Until then, even though he knew it was foolhardy, he’d go on being her Lancelot, her protector and lover.
God, he loved the role.
It was just too damn bad it was temporary.
The hot shower felt wonderful and worked to revive her physically and mentally. She scrubbed her hair with shampoo twice and rinsed it until it squeaked. When she stepped out of the tub, she felt almost normal.
But she wasn’t. Normally she wouldn’t have noticed how soft the motel towels were. She would have taken soft towels for granted. She was changed in other ways, too. When she propped her foot on the edge of the tub to dry, she noticed the unsightly, jagged scar running down her shin. She bore other scars. Deeper ones. They were indelibly engraved on her soul. Rusty Carlson would never be the same.
The clothes she’d been given were inexpensive and way oversize, but they made her feel human and feminine again. The shoes fit, but they felt odd and unusually light on her feet. It was the first time in weeks that she’d worn anything but hiking boots. Almost a week at the lodge and almost two since the crash.
Two weeks? Is that all it had been?
When she emerged from the motel room, Cooper was waiting outside her door. He had showered and shaved. His hair was still damp and well combed. The new clothes looked out of place on his rangy body.
They approached each other warily, shyly, almost apologetically. When their eyes met, the familiarity sparked. And something else, too.
“You’re different,” Rusty whispered.
He shook his head. “No, I’m not. I might look different, but I haven’t changed.”
He took her hand and drew her aside, giving the people who would have rushed to cluster around them a “back off” glance. They moved out of hearing distance. Cooper said, “In all this confusion, I haven’t had a chance to tell you something.”
Clean and smelling like soap and shaving cream, mouth giving off the fresh scent of peppermint, he was very handsome. Her eyes moved hungrily over him, unable to take in this new Cooper. “What?”
He leaned closer. “I love the way your tongue feels flicking over my navel
.”
Rusty sucked in a startled breath. Her eyes darted toward the group that was huddled a discreet distance away. They were all watching them curiously. “You’re outrageous.”
