A Quest Of Dreams by Debra Dier

Author:Debra Dier
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Leisure Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Kate turned and stretched, her cheek sliding against something cool and smooth, a sweet fragrance filling her awakening senses. "Devlin," she whispered, sliding her hand across the smooth mattress beneath her, reaching for him, finding herself alone.

She had only been dreaming, she thought, opening her eyes. Dreaming of his strong arms holding her.

She sat up, blinking the sleep from her eyes, trying to gain her bearings. She was in a small hut, and there was light coming from outside, the flickering light of a fire shimmering through the small entrance, close enough to warm her, golden light pulsing against her bare breasts.

"Oh, my heavens!" she whispered, crossing her arms over her breasts.

Through the entrance she saw Devlin McCain. Light radiated from the fire, forming a circle of gold, a circle of warmth in the chilly jungle night. Devlin was sitting cross-legged near the center of that circle, dressed only in his trousers.

Firelight stroked his face, his shoulders, his chest, his bare skin glowing with light and vitality.

He held a stick over the fire, the flames lapping at a plump fish. Across from him, beside the fire, two sticks had been driven into the sandy soil. A vine was stretched between the two sticks, and tossed across that vine, beside his shirt, were her trousers, her shirt, camisole, and lace-trimmed drawers.

"Hungry?" he asked, without glancing in her direction.

Scattered around her were big banana leaves. She clutched one to her breasts, held another across her belly, and peeked out of the hut. "Mr. McCain, my clothes."

He glanced in her direction, a smile curving his lips when he saw her. "I once knew a woman who did a dance with fans in San Francisco. She sure knew how to tease a man. Every night she'd have the whole place shouting for her to drop 'em."

Heat seared her cheeks. "Mr. McCain, will you please bring me my clothes?"

"No thoughts of going native?" Amusement colored the deep, gravelly tones of his voice.

"None at all."

"All right."

He dropped the fish on a palm frond before taking her clothes off the line and tossing each garment over his arm. When he came to her drawers, he glanced back at her, a wide, mischievous grin on his lips. "Now, Professor, I'd never have guessed you were hiding lace and rosebuds under your breeches."

She watched as he slid his thumb over a pink rosebud adorning the band of lace on the cuff of one leg, a slow caress, as if the rosebud were a living thing. Something happened inside her, a sudden tightening in the tips of her breasts.

"Wearing trousers makes me no less a woman, Mr. McCain." Kate took a step back into the shadows as he approached, but there was nowhere to hide. He glanced down at her, his gaze dipping to where she held the banana leaf flush against her breasts, the pressure of her hand causing her flesh to swell above the dark green strip.

"I can see you're every inch a woman, Miss Whitmore."

"Oh," she whispered.

He

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