himself for a fool. He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so undone by a woman.
Actually, he could. He just didn’t want to.
Living in Vegas had caused him to tire of hedonism early, and the seedy atmosphere had definitely affected his dealings with the opposite sex. In a town full of scantily clad women looking for a wild time, it was wise to exercise caution. Luke had been too staid, perhaps, but he’d never been a saint. The moment he laid eyes on Leticia Nunez, he’d wanted her.
It was lust at first sight.
She’d been sitting at an outdoor cafe, sipping iced coffee and reading a book, her black hair in a sleek knot at the nape of her neck, a pair of square-framed glasses on her adorable nose. Her legs were crossed prettily, showcased by a slim pencil skirt, the fullness of her breasts apparent beneath a prim white blouse. The fantasy was carefully crafted, a sexy librarian no man could resist, and he’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.
God, she’d been beautiful. And he’d been criminally naive.
Another image flashed into his mind, one far less pleasing to the eye. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been lying cold and dead on an examination table, her face almost as gray as the stainless steel beneath her, all of those curves he’d worshipped a distant memory, her body as sunken as her hollowed cheeks.
Would things have turned out differently if their relationship had been fueled by something less volatile than passion? He’d always thought so. And he’d never dated a woman based solely on sexual attraction again.
Until now. Although what he’d just done with Shay could hardly be called a date.
Stifling a groan, he sat down at the edge of the cave and watched the dawn creep over the horizon, as raw and pink as a fresh-knit scar. Using protection was his responsibility, and despite the miscommunication, he was angrier with himself than with her. He shouldn’t have started touching her in the first place. He hadn’t intended to take it so far.
Upon further deliberation, he’d taken advantage of her. She was in shock. She was injured. She was vulnerable. The post-coital interrogation hadn’t been well done, either. Safe sex was a topic to be discussed before the deed, not after.
Luke was a man who was always accountable for his actions. He seldom acted on impulse and entertained very few regrets. But he’d done Shay a great disservice, from that inexplicable kiss in the camouflaged shelter to his startling lapse of judgment at the, ah, culmination of their encounter, and he owed her an apology.
Feeling nauseous at the prospect, he hazarded a glance at her. Unlike him, she appeared to be resting comfortably, unmolested by second thoughts. In the hazy dawn light, he could see the outline of her body beneath the blanket, the sweet curve of her waist and the enticing swell of her hip. Her hair was a mass of rumpled blond silk; the cat’s paw on the back of her neck visible through the tangled strands.
Incredibly, he still wanted her.
He wanted to brush aside that soft hair and press his lips to her neck, to peel away the wool blanket and bury himself in her warmth. He’d made a mistake in sleeping with her, but Christ, what he would give to do it again. Really, he hadn’t done a thorough job the first time. He’d barely whetted his appetite.
He forced his gaze away from her, focusing instead on the wall carvings above her head. Now the artwork mocked him with its blatancy, the lips of a woman’s sex so obvious he felt like a damned fool.
Plagued by self-loathing, he lurched to his feet. What a place to slip up. The only time he’d failed to use protection in his entire life, and he was in a fucking fertility shrine.
With jerky, frustrated movements, he pulled on his shirt, which was no longer wet but reeked of smoke. His shorts and socks were also dry, so he put them back on, along with his damp boots. When he opened the pop-top on a small can of peaches, Shay stirred.
He shoved the can at her. “Here,” he said, more gruffly than he’d intended.
She rubbed her puffy eyes but took the can and started eating peach slices with her bare hands, as raw and sensual and unaffected as ever.
“How’s your knee?”
She swallowed a mouthful. “Better.”
“Can you hike?”
Under the blanket, she stretched her legs. “I think so.”
He rummaged through the pack, looking for his cell phone. It was still dead.
“Don’t you want any?” she asked, clutching a piece of golden fruit between slippery fingers.
He thought about all the ways he’d wanted to touch her last night but hadn’t. “No.”
With a shrug, she finished the contents of the can, upending it and drinking the juice. “What about that last power bar?”
He tossed it at her. “It’s yours.”
Instead of eating it, she held the bar in her hand, a crease forming between her brows. He supposed she was planning to save it for later, which was a good idea. They were miles from civilization, and he didn’t want her getting weak or falling down on him again.
After a moment, he realized she was waiting for him to avert his eyes so she could get out from underneath the blanket. Was this the same woman who’d walked around buck naked in the moonlight? “Let me see your knee,” he said.
Wearing a defiant expression, she stuck out her injured knee, keeping her torso demurely covered. He knelt down beside her and unwrapped the bandage, trying to ignore the way her skin felt and looked, like cream-colored silk against his dark hand.
She had a nasty purple bruise but the swelling was down. During his years at UNLV, Luke had ruptured his ACL, so he knew what a more serious injury looked like. “Good,” he said, winding the bandage back up tight.
“Thanks, Doc,” she said lightly. Her eyes burned into his, communicating something far less congenial than gratitude.
Jaw tightening, he stood and gave her his back, allowing her some privacy to get dressed. Feeling a pang that had nothing to do with hunger, he released a slow breath, knowing what he had to do. Putting it off would only prolong the inevitable.
“About last night…” he began, wincing at the tired old cliche.
“Don’t
He looked over his shoulder. She was buttoning her pants. “Don’t even what?”
“You know what,” she said, wrestling her tank top over her head. “I don’t want to hear your lame excuses.”
“I was going to apologize.”
“For what?”
“You were… hurt, and I shouldn’t have… taken it so far.”
Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
Luke forged ahead, wanting to get it over with. “I also don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. I’m not planning to stay on, in Tenaja Falls, so…”
She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and put her hands on her hips, daring him to feel lucky enough to say more.
He knew he was screwing this up royally, but he didn’t have any experience with letting a woman down easy after a one night stand. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re…” Beautiful, sexy, dynamite in bed. “Sweet,” he said. “And it was…” He stared at the blanket on the floor, searching for a word to describe the most mind-blowing sex of his life. “Nice.”
She gaped at him incredulously.
He suppressed the urge to duck and run for cover.
To his surprise, she didn’t start throwing sharp objects at his head. She merely crossed her arms over her chest and arched a dark blond brow. “Honey, if you think what we did on that blanket was ‘nice,’ you must not have been paying very close attention.” Stepping forward, she fingered the buttons on the front of his shirt. “And if you believe, even for a second, that I’m ‘sweet,’ you are so far out of touch with reality it’s no wonder you can’t tell the difference between a rock carving of a vagina and the real thing.”
Luke felt heat creep up his neck. Although he hadn’t heard any complaints from her last night, he wasn’t so deluded that he thought he’d knocked her socks off.
