Deep Waters

a long time and then, with another smothered groan, he covered her mouth once more.
    He did what Charity would have sworn was impossible: He deepened the kiss. His arms tightened around her in an urgent move that settled her hips more snugly against his fierce erection. He slid one hand to her ribs and moved it slowly upward until his thumb rested just beneath the weight of one breast.
    It was Charity's turn to shudder.
    Somewhere in the distance, she heard the chanting resume down on the beach, but she paid no attention. The only thing that mattered in that moment was Elias. His palm moved again, closing over her breast. She could feel the heat of his hand through the fabric of her shirt.
    The first muffled shouts barely registered on her awareness. She tuned them out without realizing it until Elias suddenly broke off the drugging kiss.
    "What the hell?" He raised his head, listening.
    Charity blinked, trying to clear her mind. She felt the sexual tension in Elias transmute into another, equally primitive kind of readiness.
    Disoriented, she started to step back.
    Another cry sounded.
    This time Charity heard it clearly. A woman's voice, half angry, half fearful. "Get your hands off me. I'll tell her. I swear, I will!"
    "It came from back there," Elias said. "On the far side of the rest rooms, I think."
    He released Charity and spun around in a single, lithe movement. He moved off with an easy, ground-eating stride that took him between a row of aging campers.
    Charity saw that he was heading toward a maroon and white motor home parked toward the rear of the campground.
    "Let me go, damn you! I'll tell Gwendolyn."
    Charity broke into a run and flew after Elias.
    By the time she caught up with him, he was vaulting up the steps of the maroon and white motor home. She watched as he yanked open the metal door and exploded through it into the interior.
    She heard a startled scream from inside the big vehicle. It was followed by an angry, masculine shout.
    "What the hell are you doing?" a man squawked. "Take your goddamned hands off me or I'll have you arrested."
    Charity came to an abrupt halt as a figure stumbled wildly through the open door of the motor home. She recognized Rick Swinton immediately.
    He wasn't nearly as handsome as usual, she reflected with a sense of satisfaction. In fact, he looked quite silly standing there, flailing about on the top step.
    Rick missed his footing and fell. He landed on the ground with an audible grunt.
    Elias appeared in the doorway. He was as serene and unruffled as the eye of a hurricane.
    Charity surveyed him anxiously. "Are you all right?".
    Elias glanced at her as if surprised by the question. "Yes. This jerk was manhandling a woman inside."
    "Shit." Rick spit dirt out of his mouth and heaved himself to a sitting position. He shoved curling brown hair out of his eyes and glowered furiously at Elias. "I'm going to have you arrested, you bastard. You hear me, you sonofabitch? I'm gonna sue you for this."
    "Going to be a little tough to file a lawsuit and get a judgment before the spaceships arrive on Monday." Elias came slowly down the steps. "But you're welcome to try."
    A young, attractive woman came to stand in the doorway. She clutched the lapels of her Voyager robe.
    "Arlene." Charity stared, astonished. "Good grief. Are you okay?"
    "Yeah, I'm okay." In the dim glow of a weak camp ground light Arlene appeared flushed and angry. Her sandy brown hair had come free of her headband and stood out in wild disarray around her shoulders. She glared at Rick as she straightened the folds of her long hooded, white robe. "Don't you touch me again, Rick Swinton. Do you hear me? Not ever again."
    "Did he hurt you?" Charity hurried toward the motor home steps.
    "He's a nasty little liar, but he didn't hurt me." Arlene blinked. "What are you doing here, Charity?"
    "Elias and I were just out for an evening stroll, and we heard you shouting."
    Rick heaved himself to his feet and brushed the seat of his black designer chinos. His Voyager blue silk shirt, which he wore open down to the navel, was also covered with dust. The multitude of gold chains that he wore around his neck glinted in the dim light. He gave Charity a sullen glare. "Should have minded your own damn business. Not everyone has your problem with sex. Some of us are normal."
    Elias glanced at Charity as he went down the steps. "You two know each other?"
    "Meet Rick Swinton," Charity said. "Gwen Pitt's assistant."
    Elias