Mackenzie's Magic Read online

  Her bewilderment was plain, and his fingers tightened on her hip. "A different part of your brain is affected, I guess. And parts of your memory are already coming back, so by tomorrow you’ll probably remember everything."

  She hoped so; these blank holes in her life were unsettling. It was just a matter of a few hours now, as she regained partial memory of things that had happened both before and after she was hit, but she didn’t like not knowing everything that had happened. She remembered driving with MacNeil, but why couldn’t she remember arriving at the motel?

  Only one way to find out what she wanted to know. "Did I undress myself?"

  Glancing up, she saw him smile at the abrupt change of subject. His voice deepened, evidence of the way the memory affected him. "It was a joint effort."

  Maybe she would have been embarrassed an hour ago, but not now. Instead she felt a sort of aroused contentment fill her at the thought of him pulling off his T-shirt and putting it on her, the soft cotton still warm from his body.

  "Did you touch me?" The whispered words were like heated honey, flowing over him, telling him how much she liked the idea.

  "No, you were too out of it." But he’d wanted to, he thought. God, how he’d wanted to. He helped her over a fallen tree, supporting her so that she wouldn’t stumble, but he was remembering how she’d looked sitting on the side of the bed, wearing nothing but her panties, her eyes closing, her pale hair floating around her delicate, satiny shoulders. Her breasts were high, firm, small but deliciously round, her nipples like dark pink little crowns. His right hand clenched on the reins; his palm was actually aching to touch her now, to fill his hand with that cool, richly resilient flesh and warm it with his loving.

  "Well, darn," she said sedately, and in the glow of the flashlight he saw the welcome in her night-dark eyes.

  He inhaled deeply, reaching for control. They had no time for any delay, much less one that would last an hour. An hour? He gave a mental snort. Who was he kidding? He was so worked up that five minutes was more like it, and that was only if his self-control turned out to be a lot stronger than it felt right now.

  "Later," he promised, his voice a rough growl of need. Later, when this was settled and his job done. Later, when he could take the time with her that he wanted to take, behind a locked door and with the telephone off the hook. Later, when she felt better, damn it, and wasn’t dealing with a concussion. He figured it would be two days, at least, before her headache was gone—two long, hellish days.

  He stopped and looked back. They had gone far enough that he could no longer see the headlights through the trees. A small hollow dipped just ahead, and he led Sole Pleasure into it. The hollow blocked the wind, and tall trees leaning overhead protected him from the light snow. "You’ll be okay here for a couple of hours," he told the horse as he tied the reins to a low, sturdy branch. Pleasure would be able to move around some, and if there were any edible leaves or stray blades of grass, he would be able to graze within a small area.

  "Be good," Maris admonished the horse, stroking his forehead. "We won’t be gone long. Then we’ll take you back to your big, comfortable stall, and you can have your favorite feed, and an apple for dessert." He blew softly, then bobbed his head up and down in agreement. She didn’t know how many actual words he understood, but he definitely understood the love in her voice, and he knew she was telling him good stuff.

  MacNeil took the flashlight from her hand and settled his arm around her again as they walked back to the truck. Pleasure neighed his disapproval of being left alone, but soon the trees blotted out the sound and there was only the rustle of their feet in the leaves.

  "You know what to do," he said. "They won’t follow you too closely on the highway, because they won’t want to make you suspicious. Let them see where you leave the road, but then drive as fast as you can, to give yourself as much time as possible. They’ll be able to follow the tracks. Pull up to the trailer, get out of the truck and get into the trees. Don’t waste time, don’t look back to see what I’m doing. Get into a protected place and stay there until either Dean or I come for you. If anyone else shows up, use that pistol."

  "You need the vest more than I do." Worry gnawed at her. He was sending her out of harm’s way, while he would be right in the middle of it, without protection.

  "They might pull in before you’re completely out of sight and get a shot off at you. The only way I’ll let you do this is if you’re wearing the vest."

  There that stubborn streak was again, she thought. Streak? Ha! He was permeated with it. She was beginning to think that if she scratched his skin, stubbornness would ooze out instead of blood. Living with him was going to be interesting; as he’d noted, she was used to being the boss, and so was he. She looked forward to the fights—and to the making up.

  Pearsall was waiting for them when they got back. "Everything’s ready," he said. "There’s a six-hour tape in the camera, and the battery pack is fully charged. Now, if we can just get back into position before the bad guys show up, we’re set."

  MacNeil nodded. "You leave first. We’ll let you get out of sight before we follow. Radio if you see anything suspicious."

  "Give me an extra minute so I can swing through the motel parking lot to make sure there aren’t any new arrivals. Then I’ll pull back and take up position." Pearsall got into the car and backed out, his headlights bobbing through the trees.

  Darkness settled around them as they listened to the sound of the car fading in the distance. MacNeil opened the passenger door of the truck and put his hands on Maris’s waist, lifting her onto the seat. In the darkness, his face was only a pale blur. "Whatever happens, make sure you stay safe," he growled, and bent his head to her.

  His lips were cold, and firm. Maris wound her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to him as he deepened the kiss, slanting his head for better contact. His tongue wasn’t cold at all, but hot and strong, and her entire body tightened with excitement as she leaned closer to him. It wasn’t enough; with the pleasure came frustration. She swiveled on the seat to face him, parting her legs so that he stood between them, pressed hard against her as the kiss changed yet again, into something fierce with need.

  It was their first kiss, but there was no tentativeness, no searching. They already knew each other, had already made the inner adjustment to the hot ache of physical desire, and accepted the hunger. They were already lovers, though their bodies hadn’t yet been joined. The pact had been made. Invisible strands of attraction had been pulling them together from the first, and the web was almost complete.

  He tore his mouth away from hers, breathing hard, his breath fogging in the cold air. "No more," he said, the words strained. "Not now. I’m as hard as a rock already, and if we—" He broke off. "We have to go. Now."

  "Have we given Dean enough time?"

  "Hell, I don’t know! All I know is that I’m about ten seconds away from pulling your jeans off, and if we don’t go now, the whole plan is blown."

  She didn’t want to let him go. Her arms didn’t want to release their hold on him, her thighs didn’t want to loosen from around his hips. But she did it, forced herself to open her embrace, because she could feel the truth pushing against her.

  In silence he stepped back, and she turned in the seat so that she faced forward. He closed the door, then walked stiffly around the truck to climb in under the steering wheel, a look of acute discomfort on his face.

  She wasn’t good for his sanity, he thought as he started the truck and put it in gear. She made him forget about the job and think only about sex. Not sex in general, but sex in particular. Sex with her. Again and again, holding that slim body beneath him until he was satisfied.

  He tried to imagine being sated with her, and he couldn’t. Alarm tingled through him. He tried to think of some of the other women he’d slept with over the years, but their names wouldn’t come to mind, their faces eluded him, and there was no concrete memory of how any of them had felt. There was only her mouth