He laughed, his chest rumbling under her back. “Yep.”
“You’re here.”
“Yep.”
“What happened to ‘Yes, ma’am’?”
“Happy to ‘Yes, ma’am’ you whenever you like.”
“Maybe just sometimes.” His forearm tensed under her hand. Yeah. That sounded like this thing would continue beyond the river. They both knew it wouldn’t.
“Come traveling with me,” he said, so quickly she might have imagined it.
“What?”
“I have three weeks until I fly out. You’re grounded anyway, so...”
Her turn to tense up. With mammoth effort, she pushed up and rolled over. This was a conversation that should happen face-to-face. He smiled but there was a seriousness in his eyes. A vulnerability. Like he was afraid she’d say no. She lay down facing him, her knees grazing his.
“I don’t even know you,” she said, pulling the dry bag back under her head.
“You could get to know me.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I’d like to get to know you.”
“What would we do for three weeks?” She could barely hear her own words over the pulse pounding in her ears.
His lips curled up. “Something slow. Something quiet.” He slid a hand onto her cheek, into her hair. It jammed in a knot. “What do you say?”
Her stomach plummeted—with nerves this time. Good nerves. In the last hour she’d almost died three times. And now...this? Just a fling but she’d take it. Oh hell, would she take it. “Okay,” she whispered.
“To be honest, I was looking for a little more enthusiasm.”
Laughing, she shuffled forward, cradled his jaw in both hands and touched her lips to his. He groaned and pulled her on top as they deepened the kiss. He tasted curiously salty. His hands pressed into her lower back. Bliss. Three weeks of bliss. Three weeks ofhim. That was enough to last a lifetime, right?
* * *
CODYCLUNGTOa safety railing as the bungee jump guide did final checks of the harness and the giant woven elastic wrapped around his legs. A hundred and fifty feet below, a thick turquoise river carved through a steep, silvery canyon.
“Last chance to join me,” he shouted behind him.
“Yeah, not feeling the urge right now,” Tia called, leaning on the handrail of the old bridge. “But you go ahead. Enjoy.”
With glossy curls blowing into her face, skin warmed by the sunset and a broad smile, she looked like the cover of a healthy living magazine. Right down to the fifty-three freckles across her cheeks. Yep, he’d counted. For three beautiful weeks he’d worshipped her.
Not that it’d been all sightseeing and sex. After getting Tia’s wounds stitched up, they’d given police statements, dodged the media, arranged the salvage of her chopper, filed her insurance claim, sent herkoro’s buddies in after the dogs. “Not their fault,” the Colonel had muttered. “I’ll give ’em a home on the farm. Put ’em right.”
They’d stood hand in hand in the old Wairoimata Hall at a memorial for the four tourists. They’d returned to the Awatapu with Koro and Tane for a spine-tingling Maori blessing. And tomorrow Cody would fly out. Three weeks had dissolved into hours. One more night of heaven, and then it was Queenstown to Christchurch and back to a life that suddenly felt hollow.
“She’s scared of heights,” he said to the bungee guy, loud enough for Tia to hear.
“I’m reluctant to plummet uncontrolled through thin air,” Tia shouted. “Perfectly logical.”
“You can’t control everything. Sometimes you have to dive in and trust that the cord will stop you.”
The man guided him to the edge of the platform, which wasn’t much different from a plank on a pirate ship. He inhaled the crisp air, waiting for the adrenaline to hit. He breathed again. It didn’t come. He felt...serene, happy.
