Page 67 of Cutter’s Lady

Chapter 13

Their third day at the mission, Cutter came to Leslie’s door and announced tersely that they would drive the truck back to La Luz the following morning. Leslie nodded, her heart beginning to pound, and her eyes skittered away from his. The next morning she rose early and put on a beautifully embroidered sundress that the women at the mission had made and Sister Mary Margaret had given to her. Then she gathered her belongings and went downstairs, feeling as if she were going to face her doom.

She said goodbye to Mary and the others and started toward the truck. She was surprised to find that one of the men, Miguel, climbed into the truck with them. She cast an inquiring glance at Cutter, and he explained, “Miguel’s coming with us so he can bring the truck back.”

“I see.” Of course, it made sense. They couldn’t simply abandon the truck, which was no doubt quite valuable to the mission. It brought her a deep sense of relief to know that she wouldn’t be alone with Cutter. There would be no intimacy between them, nor any questions.

Leslie rode between Cutter and Miguel, holding herself stiffly to keep from touching Cutter. Now and then she found Cutter looking at her, and she knew he was perplexed by the change in her attitude. She wanted to snuggle against him or hold his hand, to smile at him and feel the warmth of his return grin. She wanted him, and sitting beside him for hours in the close confines of the truck’s cab didn’t lessen that desire any. But she forced herself to be aloof, to avoid all contact that might fuel the passion between them. There was no future for her and Cutter, and she had to be realistic about it. It was better to get that hurt over with now.

The trip was uneventful. With the truck now empty of its illegal cargo, they were able to take the main road in the daylight. They moved much faster and with less jouncing, and Leslie was treated to the spectacular, verdant mountain views she had missed in their earlier nighttime trip. They were also able to traverse the high river gorge on the wide and more modern army-patrolled bridge. Leslie was thankful not to have to cross the shaky, ancient bridge again.

They spent the night in the back of the truck, for there were no inns in the small villages through which they passed. They ate fresh fruit, crackers and cheese. Leslie thought longingly of a juicy New York strip steak or a creamy dish of fettucine Alfredo. In fact, right now she thought a fast-food cheeseburger would taste like heaven. She’d be glad when they returned to La Luz and a wider range of foods.

They drove through Chempua late the next afternoon and continued to La Luz. Miguel left them there, taking the truck back to the mission, and Cutter took Leslie to a smaller, more modest hotel than the Palacio. “Why not go back to our rooms at the Palacio?” Leslie asked.

“Because the less the government knows about where we are, the better. If they took Blake, they’ll want us snooping around about his disappearance even less than they wanted us to visit the rebel camp. This way, hopefully they won’t guess we’re in La Luz. Go upstairs and take a nap on a real bed, for a change. I’m going to hire us another car and send someone for the one we left in Chempua.”

Leslie was glad to do as he said. She was exhausted and had been longing for a comfortable bed. Cutter booked only one room for them, but she was too drained to dispute the matter now. They’d discuss it later, after she’d rested.

Leslie woke up in the evening to find Cutter sitting in a chair across the room, watching her sleep. She sat up, pushing back her sleep-tangled hair, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. What time is it?”

“Almost eight o’clock.”

“I must have slept like the dead. When did you get back?”

He shrugged. “About thirty minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I enjoyed watching you sleep.”

Leslie glanced away quickly. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Not right now.”

She looked at him warily. “What do you mean?”

Cutter rose from the chair and walked over to the bed, towering over her. “I mean, we’ve been like brother and sister for four days. Now that we’re alone, I intend to take full advantage.”

He sat down beside her on the bed and slid his hands up her arms. His fingers edged under the ties at the neck of her dress and untied them slowly. The top slipped down onto her arms, revealing Leslie’s creamy shoulders and chest and exposing the soft tops of her breasts. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “This dress suits you.”

“Cutter, we need to talk…”

“Later.” He leaned over and kissed her shoulders, and the touch of his lips sent sparks flying through Leslie. His mouth moved across her shoulder, nipping at the tender flesh and tasting it with his tongue. “God, you smell good. You taste good.”

Leslie felt herself weakening, melting inside. Cutter was far too expert at this; she was no match for him. He knew exactly how to excite her. She closed her eyes, giving in for a moment to the pleasurable sensations. Then she forced herself to pull away, shoving her dress back up. “Cutter, stop. I mean it. We have to talk.”

He frowned. “What’s the matter with you? You’ve been jumpy and… I don’t know… cold since we left the jungle. You’ve held back from me every time I touched you or kissed you or even smiled at you. What is it?”

Leslie rose and walked away from the bed. “After we got back to the mission, I did some thinking.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“Cutter! I’m trying to be serious.”

“I know. That’s what worries me.” He slid back and sat with his back against the headboard of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing her warily. “Okay. Shoot.”

Leslie wet her lips and clasped her hands primly in front of her, feeling like a schoolchild about to start a report. “I think it’s better if we stop—I mean, I don’t think we should—” She halted, floundering for the right way to express their relationship.