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that he was loud and brash and had a corner on the market for conceit "
"Hey!" A muffled shout from without broke into his harangue. "What's
going on over there!"
It was joined by a second, aimed snidely at the first "What do you think's
going on?"
And a third, more indulgently. "They're talking football. Let them be."
"But I'm trying to sleep," complained the first.
"Could've fooled me," grumbled his tent mate. "You've been thrashing all
over the "
"Damn tent's too small!"
"Shut up, all of you," came the fourth, last but not least. "You're making
more noise than the lovers!"
Jordanna could contain herself no longer. "Lovers?" she cried indignantly.
"Lovers? Are you all mad?"
Patrick's fingers sealed her lips as he raised his head to address the shrouded
night. "You guys better get some sleep. Jordanna and I just had a minor
disagreement. We'll keep it down."
There were several vague grunts, followed by silence. Jordanna held her
breath, abundantly aware of Patrick's hard length pressing her to the ground.
Even the padding of her sleeping bag seemed insignificant against his
commanding form. She had mixed feelings when he rolled onto his back
atop his own sleeping bag.
The silence was thick, the tent suddenly minuscule. Jordanna listened to the
sound of Patrick's breathing and wondered what had happened to those
other sounds of the night. There seemed no breeze, no stirring of woodland
creatures across the carpet of dried leaves, no distant trickle of the stream.
Only Patrick. Breathing far more steadily, she cursed silently, than was she.
Unable to stand the kind of suspense that hung in the air, she turned her head
in his direction. "Pat?" she whispered.
When at last he gave a quiet, "Mmm?", she breathed a sigh of relief. She
knew he wasn't asleep, but she wasn't sure whether he'd admit it.
"Pat, I'm sorry." The simplest part of what she had to say came fast Now she
began to struggle for the right words. "I... well... I didn't mean to compare
you with Peter. It... it kind of came out all by itself." She looked toward the
roof of the tent, then threw an arm across her eyes. When Patrick remained
silent, she realized he wasn't going to help her. She stumbled on. "I really...
I really haven t been with that many men. I mean, I don't sleep around and I
guess you make me...feel vulnerable..." She swore softly and turned onto
her side away from him. Scowling into the darkness, she wondered how
she'd managed to make such a mess of something so small. What had he
said that he loved messing with the clientele? Of course he'd been teasing
her. Of course?
"I was only teasing," he whispered as if on cue. With a sudden movement,
he reached out and slid an arm beneath her to roll her back toward him.
Jordanna's initial resistance owed more to the strangeness of the intimacy
than to genuine reluctance; after several seconds, she relaxed against his
supine form letting her cheek rest in the crook of his shoulder while his arm
held her fast. "Not all men bed-hop, Jordanna. There are those of us who are
somewhat fastidious. It's as intimate, as private, as special an act for me as it
is for you, you know."
She hadn't thought about it that way and now that she did, particularly
hearing the words on Patrick's lips, she felt a shimmer of electricity sear her
in passing. In part to fight that unbidden awareness, she resorted to gentle
mockery. "Are you trying to tell me you're a virgin?"
His chuckle was priceless and worth the risk she'd taken that his good humor
had returned. "Not quite. But I don't sleep around either. I may never have
married, but I've been lucky enough to have had some truly fine
relationships with women. I've learned from them I've learned a lot." He
slanted his head down; his lips brushed her brow as he spoke. "Among other
things, I've learned that respect is critical to any meaningful relationship.
Self- respect, as well as respect for one's partner. No, Jordanna, I don't mess
around with the clientele." His already low voice dropped to a nearly
inaudible level. "At least, I never have before "
"I heard that," Jordanna whispered through a gentle smile. "And thank you
for saying it. It's a relief to know that I'm not the only one acting out of
character."
Again came the chuckle that tickled her pink. "Not by a long shot, angel."
His arm tightened momentarily around her. "Must be something about this
backwoods air that plays havoc with the hormones."
"Guess so," she murmured softly, then moved her hand along his chest.
Above the waist, he wore nothing more than a thermal shirt like hers, but
she was further bundled in her sleeping bag. "You must be freezing!" she
exclaimed, moving her hand in a larger arc. "Don't you want to get into your
sleeping bag?"
"Not... particularly."
"Why not?"
Again his breath played against her brow. "Because that'll be one more layer
between us. Your sleeping bag's bad enough." Shifting deftly onto his side,
he brought his face opposite hers. 'Let's zip them together. Come on. What
do you say?"
Jordanna's shiver was not from the cold. "I say that we'd be crazy to do that."
"We'd be warm."
"Too warm."
"Listen," he began, reaching out through the darkness to stroke her hair with
an ease that belied the urgency in his voice, "I know you're not loose. And I
know I'm not either. But, damn it, something's happening here. I take one
look at you and bam I forget who we are, where we are, and the only
thing I want to do is to take you in my arms and "
"And?"
"Make love to you."
Jordanna's insides quivered. She couldn't deny anything Patrick said, for her
body clamored likewise. Unable to help herself, she placed her fingers
against his lips, ostensibly stilling him while in reality very slowly exploring
his lips in the way of the blind. "You shouldn't say things like that, Pat.
They're nearly irresistible."
"They're meant to be," he whispered without remorse. "So, how about it?
Should we warm each other?"
"No."
"Mmm." With a soulful sigh, he released her. "Dumb."
"Uh-huh."
For long moments they lay in silence. Finally, Patrick raised himself enough
to slide into his sleeping bag. It seemed forever until he made himself
comfortable and lay still. "Damn tent," he muttered, squirming again.
"Whose brilliant idea was it to sleep here?"
' "Yours."
He cleared his throat. "Right."
Again they said nothing for a stretch. Jordanna was so acutely aware of the
body next to hers that she had to concentrate on breathing steadily. Patrick
turned away onto his side, lay there for several minutes, then flipped back.
"I can't sleep," he announced, sounding so much like a little boy that
Jordanna couldn't help but laugh.
"Of course you can't. You must be running plays over and over in your
mind."
"I am not running plays."
"Then why don't you try lying still?"
"I'm trying. I'm trying. It's all your fault, you know."
"My fault?"
"I can't sleep with you lying so close."
"What would you like me to do? Move outside."
"No. Move over."
"There's no room!"
"That's the point." Suddenly he was up on an elbow. Though Jordanna
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