Death is Forever

lithe walk with an unconscious intensity. It was the same way she listened to his words, looked at his eyes, breathed the air that had touched him….
    Last night she’d fallen asleep in his lap with the hard proof of his arousal against her hip. This morning she’d awakened fully dressed and alone in the bed. The intense sexuality that was as much a part of Cole as his intelligence was fully controlled.
    The realization still rippled through Erin’s mind at odd moments, rearranging everything in its wake, leaving a feeling that was both peaceful and shimmering with anticipation.
    Yet even as the feeling radiated through her, she knew she was reading too much into Cole’s restraint. He wanted her, and he was smart enough to know that pushing her sexually would guarantee that he didn’t get her.
    She was edging toward wanting him, and she was smart enough to know the emotional risks involved.
    Cole Blackburn didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would let himself be vulnerable to love. She wasn’t the kind to give herself to a man without loving him.
    “Ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.
    She stood and slid her hand into his. “Did you get them?”
    “They’re strapped to my waist. I got a room at a different hotel and left our stuff in it.”
    “My camera bag?” she asked.
    He smiled slightly. “It’s safe in the room. And no, you can’t take pictures yet. No one watching you with a camera would mistake you for a tourist.”
    She sighed.
    He squeezed her hand. “We’ll rent a car using the new passports and leave tomorrow morning. Once we’re out of the city you can take all the pictures you want.”
    “That’s a rash promise. I’m going to hold you to it.”
    Laughing, they walked out of the restaurant hand in hand, looking like a couple having a relaxed night on the town. Outside it was warm, humid, and smelled like a city built in a greenhouse.
    As they strolled beyond the circle of illumination thrown by a streetlight, they all but disappeared. He was wearing lightweight cotton slacks, shirt, and shoes. All black. Erin was wearing the same. Cole had insisted on dark colors at night and khaki during the day. Since he’d bought everything—including the nylon duffels they were using as luggage—she hadn’t complained. All she had of her former baggage was a single camera bag and the diamonds belted around her waist beneath her clothes.
    A breeze stirred vaguely, bringing the scent of the sea.
    “Now will you let me go see the Indian Ocean?” she asked.
    “Timor Sea, actually.”
    “Sold.”
    He laughed softly and looked down at the woman who walked so gracefully by his side. She’d been different since she’d fallen asleep in his lap. Her relaxation with him and her gentle verbal teasing only increased his desire. So did the frank approval in her eyes when she watched him.
    “Come on,” he said. “There’s a way down to the sea over here.”
    He led her to an unlighted, zigzagging walkway that tunneled down through lush growth to the nearby water. They were only a few feet from the coarse sand beach when he stopped short, muscled her against the trunk of a tree, and pinned her in place with his body as though they were lovers too impatient to wait for privacy.
    After a reflexive instant of fear at being manhandled, Erin relaxed. Cole’s predatory attention wasn’t on her. It was on the path behind them that led back up to Darwin’s sidewalks.
    “I thought I heard somebody behind us,” he said very softly against her ear.
    With each breath Erin took, the strength and weight of his body broke over her, sending her heart racing. Only a small part of her response was the residue of old terror. Most of it was new desire.
    There was just enough light from the waxing moon for her to see the strong tendons in his neck, the black beard stubble that was a shadow beneath his skin, and the deep, steady beat of life in his throat. The pressure of his body was impersonal rather than sexual, protective rather than seductive. She told herself it was better that way.
    She lied.
    “Come on,” he said in a voice that was barely a thread of sound. “Farther down the beach there’s another way back up to the sidewalk.”
    Their shoes made a thick, gritty sound in the coarse sand. To their right the sea lapped, rather than broke, over the beach. Clouds with blurred edges ran like buttermilk over the sky, soaking up moon and stars until nothing remained but a vague haze and a