"Maybe it's your brother," she offered.

"Not his headlights," Jack called back.

Then she heard him groan.

"What?" she whispered. "Do you recognize the car?"

Jack turned back to her. "Nope. But I sure recognize the tall gentleman who got out of it. Robert Neal. Seems my compet.i.tion has arrived a bit early."

At least the man was nice, Marilyn thought. At least he wasn't some ogre with an att.i.tude. Quite the contrary. Robert Neal was a handsome, polite older man in his sixties with brilliant silver hair, ice-blue eyes and a killer smile.

Chuck, thankfully, had diffused the situation by the time Jack and Marilyn made it up the embankment. He and Colette had welcomed the author and by the sound of their voices were offering to take him to his cabin.

"You're on the west side of the river near me," Marilyn heard Chuck say.

She placed a hand on one of Jack's arms and shook her head, hoping he could see her well enough and take the hint to stay low.

Once the three people in front of Jack's cabin left, Jack and Marilyn continued their climb until they reached Jack's front porch.

"Well, that's a fine howdy-do," Jack mumbled. "Man shows up at my cabin to the smell of burnt food and smoke. Probably laughing himself silly about now."

"I didn't hear anyone laughing," Marilyn said. "I just heard Chuck and Colette offer to take him to his cabin. So you're safe."

Jack surveyed his surroundings and walked back inside the cabin. "I have a sleeping bag in my loft."

"I have a bed in my bedroom."

He turned to catch her smiling. "You makin' fun of me, chere?"

"Just trying to get you to lighten up a bit."

She held out her hands and pulled him toward her. "You know," she said coyly, "some day maybe you and I will even fix breakfast for one another."

"What do you mean?"

"As in stay long enough to enjoy breakfast. Not have to leave immediately after." She paused. "Well, you know."

"n.o.body lit a fire under you and made you get up and leave last night," he said, chucking her chin.

"As I recall, n.o.body gave me a good reason to stay either," she retorted.

"Ah. So that's what this is. Getting the fighting over with early. Maybe I should just walk over to your cabin, turn around and leave and get it over with so we can start to make up sooner."

Marilyn linked her arm through his and said, "You already have clothes over there. I 'll bet money that Colette and Chuck are already preparing dinner at his place. You want to join them or see if we can rustle up something to eat over at my cabin? I'm still hungry."

Jack grinned broadly. "You trust me to prepare an after-dinner snack after what just happened here?"

"No. But I know somebody who still has some ice cream left in his freezer, unless Chuck and Colette dared take it all. And maraschino cherries in the refrigerator." She winked. "If you have chocolate syrup and whipped cream we can have our own private orgy tonight."

She bent to retrieve the items from his refrigerator.

Jack laughed. "You're incorrigible."

"But?" she asked, rising and fondling the jar of cherries. "I sense a 'but' in there somewhere."

He c.o.c.ked his head, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Just one b.u.t.t-yours in my palms."

"Jack?"

"I totally suck at cherries jubilee," Jack said, walking toward her menacingly. "Ah, but you have no idea what I can do with the stem of a single maraschino cherry and my tongue!"

Marilyn c.o.c.ked her head. "I've heard of that little trick-tying it into a knot?"

"Yep. Care to put me to the test?"

"Only if you do to me in my bedroom what you did to me in your kitchen earlier."

He helped her carry the refrigerated and frozen items to her cabin, but when they set them on her table, he surprised her by taking her into his arms and holding her without kissing her at first...just gazing into her eyes.

When he brushed back the hair from her eyes and bent to kiss her, Marilyn's heart fluttered. She'd expected sa.s.sy, bold, funny, charming. She didn't expect a slow burn, a fire that started somewhere in her belly and soon raced through the rest of her body.

He kissed her cheeks then her eyelids, slowly, seductively, yet pa.s.sionately. This time when he made love to her, it was as if he'd had a revelation, like he'd discovered a treasure he hadn't known existed. "My G.o.d, you're beautiful!" He paused and studied her lips, running a forefinger over them gently.

She was self-conscious, and her first thought was to make some self-effacing remark that would keep the mood light, but then she realized that she was just afraid. Of what, you dolt? She trembled beneath his touch, shivering as if chilled by a white hot pa.s.sion she'd never known.

It was hardly like this with Ben! She'd had o.r.g.a.s.ms, but never with this much tension, excitement or fear of the unknown. She'd made love, been made love to, and she 'd done all the mechanical moves that generally accompanied the act, but this was different. This time, she knew she'd be not only making love but mating.

He scooped her into his arms with one smooth, easy move and walked towards her bed. Marilyn almost swooned when he bent and rolled them side-by-side, one arm cradling her head, the other against her lower back.

The warmth of his hands on her back and head, his eyes peering soulfully into hers as if he could read her mind, the intensity with which he held himself back ever so slightly as if he was seeing her for the first time and viewing her as some priceless work of art... All combined to shatter her as nothing else ever had.

Words escaped her. For the first time since they'd met, neither seemed willing to talk, to break the spell.

The self-conscious worry about how she looked or smelled vanished when he pulled down her panties and gently laid his head on her stomach and stayed there for a moment. His hands felt deliciously dangerous as they floated over her hips and thighs and between her legs.

So this is how it feels. Marilyn watched Jackson's head as he turned his face fully into her stomach and kissed her then slowly laved her navel with his tongue. Darts of electricity jolted her from p.u.s.s.y to pedicure and back up. This is what I should have felt with Ben and didn't.

Marilyn closed her eyes for a moment. Even the fleeting thought of her former fiance 's name couldn't stay with her long enough to bring her out of the ma.s.sive, magical spell Jackson was weaving. No one existed for her but Jackson. A small cry caught in her throat as she realized that no one else ever would after tonight.

Jackson's back muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as she dared touch him.

Everything from his warm male scent to the power beneath her fingers energized her, depleted her, both weakened and strengthened her. She writhed uncontrollably as his tongue continued flicking out to taste her. Marilyn had never felt so cherished.

She was torn between anguish when he lifted himself to finish undressing them and antic.i.p.ation of what would follow when he finally came to her and gave them both what they desperately needed and wanted.

His c.o.c.k brushed against her thighs and it was hard and hot, seeking entrance to her p.u.s.s.y. Marilyn would have helped guide him, but he caught her hands and pulled them slowly above her head. His eyes held both secrets of the d.a.m.ned and the promise of pa.s.sions to come. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything was as it should be, that no matter what else happened, she'd cherish this night for the rest of her life.

Then he kissed her fully on the lips as he slid inside her, and Marilyn couldn't tell where she ended and he began. They were one for the time, a synchronized, serendipitous union of bodies and souls, both stretching for expression, not release. It was as if he could read her mind and knew that she wanted him to prolong their coupling because he took his time, seeming to savor each fluid movement for their journey's sake.

It was so easy to give herself to him, to relax with no thoughts of tomorrow. Painfully easy, for the beauty of their time together tore at her heart.

She wound her arms around his neck, drawing him as close as possible. His body heated hers, and soon neither of them could hold back and they were no longer gently giving and taking but greedily f.u.c.king one another, as if they would never be satisfied. A longing so deep made her cry his name, and when she did his c.o.c.k became a rigid rod of steel within.

"Jackson!"

"Oh, chere, baby...I-I...!"

His voice tapered as he burst inside her.

Marilyn shuddered. Had he just said he loved her? Or was that her own imagination comforting her with what she longed to hear?

Chapter Fifteen.

Easy French Chocolate Fondue Ingredients: 10 ounces milk chocolate (the more expensive, the better) 1/2 cup heavy cream 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon 1/4 teaspoon cloves Dash of nutmeg Break chocolate into small pieces, add other ingredients, stir on low heat until melted. Dip fruit and

enjoy! Marilyn was in ecstasy. Chocolate syrup, a second helping of dessert, a hunky Cajun and...visitors?

After their lovemaking, they'd showered then examined their melting dessert while wearing nothing but towels.

"Anyone ever made a sundae out of you?" He took a spoonful of the still softened ice cream and dribbled it onto her cleavage.

When she screamed, he ripped off her towel and began licking, catching the creamy mixture as it trickled between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and onto her abdomen.

"How about you?" She yanked off Jackson's towel, grabbed the chocolate syrup and drizzled it across his c.o.c.k then dropped to her knees to suckle him, letting her tongue capture every drop until she could taste the slight salty texture of his skin as well as the sugary sauce.

"This ole floor's a mite hard." He c.o.c.ked his head toward the bed.

"And get the sheets sticky? Eww!" She giggled and squealed.

He took the syrup from her hands and set it beside the ice cream he'd held. "f.u.c.k the food. I'm hungry for you again."

Marilyn grabbed the syrup just the same as he scooped her into his arms and headed into the other room. "But I want chocolate. Don't worry-I'll make sure you're licked clean before the bed gets too messy."

She and Jackson had no sooner started nibbling on one another in earnest than they heard a rustling outside Marilyn's cabin.

"Burglar?" she whispered anxiously.

"Doubt it. Most likely a squirrel."

Marilyn pointed toward the shadow of a human falling against her bedroom curtains. "Big squirrel."

"What the h.e.l.l?" Jack rose from his position on the bed and crept toward the window.

"Come back here! What are you doing?" Marilyn whispered.

"Protecting you."

"With what? Your Jockey shorts?"

Jack peered through the window, his eyes darting left then right, trying to catch whoever was outside Marilyn's cabin. Soon a woman's voice pierced the air.

"Jack? Are you in there?"

Jack shrank back, stumbled and sat on the bed, only to have Marilyn kick him in the b.u.t.t.

"Another of your admirers?" she asked, sn.i.g.g.e.ring.

"How should I know?" he whispered irritably.

Soon they heard a tapping at the cabin door. Jack grabbed his jeans and jerked them on as Marilyn leapt off the bed in her t-shirt and panties.

"You can't go to the door like that!" he cautioned.

She reached for the bathrobe draped across the foot of her bed. "We can't just leave whoever is out there wondering why we don't answer them."

"No!" Jack insisted. "Don't open the door! What if it's my brother with her?"

"What if it's my father?"

"At this time of night?" they both whispered then burst into m.u.f.fled laughter.

Marilyn turned on the bedside light and motioned for him to go into the bathroom.

"Are you here if she asks for you?" Marilyn asked.

"No!"

"What if it's one of your relatives?"

"I have no idea who she is."

"Well, she obviously thinks you're in here," Marilyn said. "So what do I tell her?"

"Tell her I'm fishing or something."

Marilyn rolled her eyes and headed for the door. A small brunette in her mid-fifties greeted her, holding a strange-looking plant in a plastic bucket.

"Marilyn?" the tiny woman squeaked, setting the plant on the picnic table. "It's Marie!"