LIKE A SPARK to dry tinder, heat crackled through her, searing her nerve endings.
This kiss was as out of control as the first one.
She couldn’t stop. Just couldn’t stop putting her arms around his neck and drawing him closer. Couldn’t stop pressing her lips against his. Tasting him. Feeling the solid weight of him—real, hard, honest. Here.
His throaty groan as her tongue slid against his stoked any remaining embers inside her that hadn’t already caught fire.
She pressed against him, fitting herself against his hard body, running her palms over strong shoulders and across his back. She wanted to touch him everywhere.
He laid her back on the blanket and propped himself up on his elbow, his other hand stroking her cheek. ‘Carly, we shouldn’t be doing this. We agreed.’
She closed her eyes, not ready for a conversation. ‘If we dissect it, we’ll stop, and I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to talk. I want to kiss you. I want to touch you. I want to feel. God, I want to just feel, Owen. I want you inside me. So badly.’
His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, the expression in his eyes telling her he didn’t want this to stop either. ‘I want that more than anything, but are you sure?’
She’d been broken before. Completely. Utterly. Wretchedly torn apart. The death of her husband had had her numb one day and then awash with cruel, painful, roiling emotions the next. Rinse and repeat for two whole years. Another year on and she was starting to recover now, a welcome relief from such intense grief.
She’d vowed never to give her heart again, but this...? Surely, this was safe? There was an expiry date. She simply couldn’t get emotionally involved, because she was leaving. It would end. They both knew it. So why not enjoy it while it lasted?
‘Yes, Owen. I’m sure. We both know the score, right?’
‘We do.’ His tone was pained but he bent to kiss her again and she closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensations she’d been denying herself from the first moment she’d seen him.
His fingers stroked across her ribs, below her breasts, and she was almost driven crazy with the need for him to slide his hands over her nipples.
She pressed against him, stifling her own groans as her thigh connected with his erection. One slight shift in position and her core pressed against the hard ridge in his shorts. She wanted to rock against him, desperate to feel his hard length inside her.
He kissed a trail from her breasts back to her mouth. ‘Carly, you have no idea how much I want this.’
‘I think I do.’ She moved against his erection teasingly, and giggled.
He inhaled sharply, eyes widening, and groaned. ‘You’re amazing. I want to see you. All of you.’
He slowly, almost reverently, removed her top. Then he slid the straps of her bra down, kissing trails along each arm. Undid the clasp and dropped her bra to the ground. Then he dipped his head and sucked a nipple in. As she watched the slow, deep suck, she wanted to scream with pleasure but controlled herself so much, her body shook. Or was it trembling out of pure sexual need?
His mouth was hot and his kisses greedy. She felt alive, reckless, wild.
Free.
Yes. Free to be herself. To follow her desires. To take what she wanted. To put away her past...all the good and the bad. To revel in the now. In this man. Every touch was more fuel to the fire burning inside her. She wanted to beg him to hurry, but also tell him to slow down, so she could revel in every second.
He worked his way up her body, back to her mouth, and she melted into another of his searing kisses until her thoughts were nothing except his taste, his touch, his scent.
Owen Cooper—a surprise and a gift. Her going-away present.
A loud bleeping sound had her pulling away.
What the hell?
Damn. It had been so long since she’d done anything like this. Couldn’t she just have had one precious moment with this hot man? Okay...a few precious moments. ‘Shoot. What now?’
She peered down at the neon message.
Bush fire. North Bay.
And her heart rattled. ‘Oh, hell. Owen, I’m so sorry. I need to go.’
His breathing was rapid, eyes suddenly alert. ‘What is it?’
‘Bush fire. North Bay. No other details.’ Suddenly cold, she sat up, slid her bra straps up her arms, pulled on her top and settled her clothes back in place. Her need for him did not wane. Would she ever stop wanting him? Would ten minutes, ten hours, ten months, ten years away from him douse this burning?
Would a thousand miles? Ten thousand?
He jumped up and ran his palms down his shorts. ‘We need to go. It’s a fire...there could be casualties.’
‘Okay. Yes. We need to get there ASAP. Everything’s so dry, the whole island could go up. What about Mason?’ Her heart stalled at the thought of the little boy fast asleep in the tent. A few moments ago, he could have caught them behaving like teenagers. But she was aware he was like most other youngsters and slept heavily.
They’d been safe.
And she felt bereft to have to stop, to peel her hands away from Owen. To have his kisses abruptly terminated.
‘I’ll see if Mia can have him. I’ll call her on the way.’ He gave her a sharp nod, all business. ‘I’ll just go wake him up. What about more help?’
‘We’ve got it covered...unless it gets too big. Then we radio for help from the mainland. The coastguard brings the other volunteer firefighters round from other parts of the island, and I have my gear and the jet-ski, so I’ll head straight over now. There’s a depot down at the yacht club with emergency equipment. Wiremu’s son, Nikau, will bring over the smoke chaser. I’ll meet you there. North Bay.’
‘And then?’ His hand snaked around her waist, drawing her closer to that toned chest.
She inhaled his scent, pressed a kiss to his throat then stepped away. ‘I think the universe is telling us this is not going to happen.’
He nodded again and she couldn’t read him. Was he relieved they’d been interrupted or as frustrated as she was? Every time they moved forward, they took more than a few steps back.
And he was all closed down again, seemingly in agreement that it wasn’t going to happen again.
No matter how much she ached for it.
Having quickly dropped Mason off at Mia’s, Owen steered into the bay and secured his own boat up against the jetty, then ran towards the smoke and flames. Judging by the number of boats anchored in North Bay, the whole island had come to fight the fire. Two locals had fire hoses attached to their jet-skis, pointing plumes of water towards the bushes on the west side of the bay. A helicopter hovered overhead, dumping a huge bucket of water over the trees towards the east.
His heart had barely recovered from the intensity of their passion, then the dousing of it. Now, trying to find Carly in the chaos of the scene, he wondered at the wisdom of snatching kisses like that when she was not going to be around in a couple of weeks.
He shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind.
We both know the score.
He did. They hadn’t committed to anything serious, just a few kisses. He could walk away any time and still keep his heart intact.
Smoke filled the air, flames flickered high in the bush and the smell of burning tinged every inhale. But the sounds surprised him more than anything. He hadn’t expected fire crackle to be so loud.
He dashed over to a familiar face who was pulling out a hose reel attached to a high-pressure pump on a quad bike. The Rāwhiti Island smoke chaser. ‘Nikau, are you okay?’
The young man nodded. ‘Sure.’
‘Any injured?’
‘Not so far.’
‘Thank God.’ But Owen knew that it was probably only a matter of time before his skills would be needed. He didn’t want to think about the kind of injuries people could sustain in a bush fire, but was as prepared as he could be. He dropped his doctor’s bag and helped unroll the hose reel. ‘Have you seen Carly?’
‘She was over there, last time I looked.’ Nikau pointed towards a group of firefighters in helmets and mustard-yellow gear heaving a pulsing water hose in the direction of the thickest smoke. ‘Thanks for the help, Doc. I’m good to go.’
Owen ran to the huddle of firefighters and there...in the middle of the line of these valiant, volunteer first responders...was the woman he’d had so much respect for. And now it skyrocketed.
‘Carly!’
She turned at the sound of her name, her eyes seeking him out, her posture softening as she found him. She gave him a small smile. ‘You made it.’
‘Yes. Any one hurt? What’s on fire? Just bush or houses too?’
‘It’s closing in on Anahera’s home. If we can get this water closer, we can hopefully stop it before it spreads further.’
‘On three,’ one of the firefighters at the front of the line called out. ‘One. Two. Three!’
As they started to run towards the fire, Owen’s heart lurched. ‘Be careful.’
Please, be careful.
Carly turned back to look at him. For one tiny second their eyes locked and he tried to convey to her, in that briefest of looks, all the jumble of things in his chest. He wished her to be safe. He wished... Hell, he just wished she’d come back to him.
Then she was gone, disappearing into the trees, the darkness and the swirl of smoke that felt as if it had curled into his chest and wrapped tightly around his heart.
‘Help! Help us, please!’ Over on his left, two people staggered out of the smoking bush, their faces covered in black streaks, hands covering their mouths as they coughed and struggled for air.
Pushing his fears for Carly’s safety away, he ran to help the casualties—Anahera and her husband—and hooked them up to the portable oxygen, assessing for smoke inhalation, burns and shock. When they were able to answer, he asked, ‘How close is the fire to your home?’
Anahera shook her head and sighed. ‘It was closing in on the barn when we left. We hosed everything down and, luckily, we’d just finished pruning and thinning the bigger trees. We just have to hope they can stop it in time.’
Owen Cooper wasn’t a praying man but right then and there he sent up a message to whoever would listen that Anahera’s house would be saved, and that Carly would come out of this unhurt.
His receptionist put a warm hand over his. ‘Are you thinking twice about having moved here, Doc?’
‘Well, there’s certainly never a dull moment on Rāwhiti, is there?’ He peered towards the bush, looking for Carly.
Anahera gave a sad, throaty huff as she followed his gaze. ‘That’s why we love it.’
Two firefighters staggered out of the bush and he ran to assist them, dressing their minor burns and giving them water.
No Carly.
Where was she?
How was she?
Two more people were brought to him, people with smoke inhalation, cuts and grazes. Then more—a potentially torn retina from a falling branch, a panic attack, more burns...
And through it all he kept half an eye out for Carly. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding against his ribcage, as his attention was continually being pulled back to that little path into the dense trees, desperately searching for her to walk out.
And he realised the agony she must have endured, waiting for her husband to come home. The torment and pain she’d lived through, the slow realisation he wasn’t coming back. The final acceptance that he was dead. How had she lived through that to become the amazing woman she was now? How had she not let that taint everything?
And why had she chosen him, Owen Cooper, to be the one she now bestowed with sexy-sweet kisses? The one to bring her back to life after her years in grief?
He didn’t have any answers, just a heart full of panic, pain and hope.
It was two hours before she returned, covered in soot and sweating from the heat and the restricting uniform. She bent forward to catch her breath and he stroked her back as she coughed and cleared her throat. He was beyond glad to see her and yet...he couldn’t name the emotion that sat heavily in his chest. Frustration? Helplessness? Anger? He wanted to shake her for scaring him so much. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her. He wanted to hold her and not let her go.
Then, finally, yes...he admitted to himself that he wanted her to stay. But that was a futile dream.
The other firefighters were close, a team working and resting together. Even if he knew what he was feeling, he wasn’t going to express it in front of these people.
He handed her a water bottle. ‘Drink.’
She took it and gulped down half its contents. Then she hauled in a deep breath, a frown forming as she looked at him, searching his face. ‘You okay?’
He chose not to answer, not trusting himself to be able to hold every emotion in. ‘How’s Anahera’s house?’
‘We got to it just in time. It’s okay. The barn’s gone. The trees around her property are badly singed. It was a very close call.’
‘You could have been killed in there.’
It was only now that he recognised the emotion: desperation. The same root as the frantic need to kiss her, and now, the panic about her safety. He’d never felt this—not when his mother had left, not when Miranda had filed for divorce—a desperate ache for another person.
But it was a two-sided coin. An insatiable need and an absolute threat to his equilibrium.
She glanced at him, still frowning. ‘But I wasn’t killed, Owen. I’m fine. I know my limitations. I know when to go in and when to stand down. I stick to all the health and safety rules.’
‘I... I...’ He paced back and forth, trying to douse the other emotions rushing through him—fear, anger, want, need—and failing. When it came to Carly, it was all or nothing.
All.
He lowered his voice. ‘I thought I was going to lose you.’
‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ She grinned and winked. The wink was for fun, for the observers and volunteers all watching this interaction. But the smile was for him. ‘But thank you for caring.’
‘Carly?’ Nikau called over, giving her the thumbs-up. ‘Just had confirmation from the helicopter that it’s all out. They’ll do some regular flyovers overnight to check and the Blue Team will stay on and keep watch. You get off home.’
‘Thank God.’ She sighed and smiled, exhaustion bruising below her eyes. Then she turned back to Owen. ‘You go get some sleep too.’
‘Sure.’ He nodded, fighting the urge to pick her up and take her back to his place.
Thank you for caring?
His heart had almost hammered its way out of his chest, which should have been a warning that he was getting too involved, but he didn’t want to listen. He knew he was getting involved...but he was on a collision course he couldn’t stop. The rush was addictive. The utter desperation of their kisses, the frantic energy, made him feel the most alive he’d ever been. He couldn’t walk away. He had a matter of weeks to sink into it. The rest of his life to remember it.
He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to sear her image on his brain. Her beautiful face streaked with soot, her eyes alive with adrenalin. And her kisses. Her taste.
Why would a man sleep when he could relive that over and over?