Thirty Nights Read online

  He’d tried several prostheses early on in his rehabilitation, but hadn’t liked the way they felt like a dead plastic stone at the end of his arm. The hook, while admittedly as ugly as homemade sin, was at least functional. But less-than-conducive to romantic moods.

  When he would have pulled his arm away to hide the ruined stump from view, Gillian bent her head. Her cloud of fiery hair tumbled over his forearm as she touched her silken lips to the reddened flesh where his hand had once been. Hunter felt something elemental—as strong and world-shattering as an earthquake—rip through him.

  “I got over it.” He had to shove the words past the strange boulder suddenly lodged in his throat.

  “Physically, perhaps,” she allowed. She went on to press her mouth against each and every one of the white scars that pocked the left side of his chest, her soft butterfly kisses like a benediction.

  When she lifted her fingertips to his ruined cheek again and her glistening gaze to his, Hunter was relieved that the explosion had miraculously left both his eyes intact.

  “But psychologically? It must have left scars,” she insisted softly. “I can’t imagine ever getting over the idea someone wanted to kill me.”

  “Perhaps that’s because, despite what you said about your charity work, you still haven’t spent the past eight years of your life in war-torn places, hanging out with people who wake up one morning and decide to slaughter all their neighbors.”

  Those years of research into the dark side of human behavior had given Hunter a different take on good and evil than Gillian’s. He wasn’t nearly as optimistic. He’d often thought that if there was a God, there was a good chance the guy had given up on his brutal creations.

  “Taking a chance on getting killed comes with the territory,” he said.

  “Perhaps you should change your territory.”

  “I didn’t let your father drive me out of science, Gillian. I’m not going to allow some yahoos with a bit of plastique put a halt to my work.”

  Since it wasn’t germane to the argument, or their situation, he didn’t add that he was already looking forward to turning his sights to something less likely to get him blown to smithereens.

  “Will you tell me about it?” she asked quietly. “Exactly what it is you do that has people willing to kill—and die—to stop you?”

  “It’s classified.”

  “Just an overview, then,” she suggested. “I’m a scientist’s daughter,” she reminded him unnecessarily. “I understand the importance of keeping research confidential. I’m not asking you to share deep dark government secrets with me, Hunter.

  “I just want to know more about what you believe in so strongly that you’d put your own life on the line. But mostly I want to know about you. About your hopes and dreams. The same way you know all about mine.”

  He could have refused. Hell, he knew he should have refused. But as he found himself drowning in the liquid sea-green depths of her imploring gaze, Hunter feared he was rapidly reaching the point where he’d be unable to refuse this woman anything.

  “An overview,” he agreed. “After dinner.”

  She smiled. With her sweet lips and enchanting eyes. “After dinner.” She went over to the drawer and selected a scarlet-as-sin satin chemise that skimmed over her breasts like a lover’s caress. “Before you make love with me again.”

  “Again?” he asked with mock surprise as she pulled out a pair of matching panties so skimpy they only covered the essentials. She was a woman made for sexy lingerie, he thought, satisfied that he’d chosen well. “And here I’d thought I’d managed to satisfy you well enough.”

  “Oh, you have.” She tied the crimson ribbons at her hips. “Splendidly. So well, in fact, that I’m looking forward to you satisfying me again. And again.”

  Her tone was an enticing blend of honey and smoke, the look she tossed him was so saucy he was almost tempted to pull those scarlet bows loose and drag her back to bed. Hunter stood up, hoping she wouldn’t notice that he was gingerly favoring his wounded arm.

  “I believe the deal was that you’re supposed to be my sex slave.”

  “Now that you mention it, I do recall something about that game.” She went up on her toes and touched her mouth to his. “However, I was thinking that perhaps we might renegotiate the rules.”

  “Oh?” An electric current surged from her lips to his groin. Would he never get enough of this woman? “What, exactly, are you suggesting?”

  “That we take turns playing the subordinate role.” Her smile defined vixen.

  As humor mixed with lust, Hunter felt his own lips, so unaccustomed to smiling, curve. “For a woman who’s traveled the world, you’ve led a surprisingly sheltered sexual life up until now, Gillian. What makes you believe you’re up to the challenge of playing dominatrix?”

  She tossed her bright head as she slipped into a matching silk robe that hugged her slender curves and was short enough to make Hunter want to bite her thigh. “Why don’t you try me and see?”

  He laughed, feeling oddly lighthearted, considering the fact that someone had tried to kill him earlier. “I just may do that.”

  12

  “SO, WHAT YOU DO IS TAKE the political and economic history of a region, plug in sociological factors past and present, along with a genetic profile of the inhabitants, and when you run them through the computer, you can predict how any population is going to respond under any circumstances?”

  After nuking a dinner they’d found in the freezer, they’d moved to the library, where Hunter had shared the basics of his research with Gillian. He was not surprised when she immediately grasped his theory. He’d already determined that she was as intelligent as she was beautiful.

  “That’s it in a nutshell.”

  She considered it a bit more, sipped her wine, then nodded. “And both the State and Defense Departments are paying you for the study? Isn’t that a bit unusual?”

  “I suppose.” He shrugged. Having spent his life being called everything from a maverick to an eccentric to a madman, Hunter didn’t worry much about normalcy. “But they’re each taking a different twist on it.

  “Defense supposedly wants the data in order to predict wars and know how to best fight them. State, on the other hand, is looking to defuse problems before they blow up. They’re also interested in anything that’ll give them an edge in negotiating peaceful settlements to skirmishes they can’t prevent.”

  Hunter didn’t mention the feeling he’d been getting that the general, in particular, was seeking something a great deal deadlier from the project.

  “I like the State Department’s idea best,” she decided without hesitation. “Your work should prove a huge help diplomatically.”

  Her smile was absolutely breathtaking. It literally stole the air from his lungs and did strange, physiologically impossible things to his heart.

  “Just think, Hunter, you may actually have hit upon a way to stop wars.”

  “That’s an awfully lofty goal. Even for a man with my ego.” But he had admittedly thought of it.

  “Goals should be lofty,” she declared firmly, making him think of her own not so unreachable goal of playing on the Broadway stage. “Otherwise what would be the point in trying to reach for them?

  “Why, without goals, humanity would still be living in caves, and instead of eating Mrs. Adams’s excellent pot roast, we’d be forced to go out into the snow and throw sticks and stones at woolly mammoths.”

  “I believe humanity had moved on to rudimentary weapons at the point in history when people began hunting mammoths.”

  “Really, Hunter.” Her frustrated sigh ruffled her bright bangs. “Must you be so literal?”

  “I’m a scientist,” he reminded her. “We tend to get mired down in detail.”

  “You’re a social scientist,” she reminded him back. “Which means that you’re undoubtedly gifted with more imagination than most.”

  Since he rather liked her thinking he was special, Hunter decided not to point out that any scientist who’d achieved recognition would have the sort of mind that looked beyond the obvious.

  “Speaking of imagination,” he murmured as he slowly, deliberately put his wineglass down onto the low table in front of them. “What would you say to playing a little fantasy game?”

  “What kind of fantasy?”

  “I was thinking of something along the lines of an alien invader from outer space.”

  “I suppose that depends on who gets to play the part of the invader.”

  “The alien’s from a planet in another galaxy that’s a parallel universe to Amazonia. Unfortunately, there are no men on the planet, so the very sexually frustrated females have to travel to other planets to fulfill their rampant erotic desires.”

  Gillian nibbled on her thumbnail as she considered the scenario. “That sounds as if it has possibilities. Do I get to take hostages?”

  “Only one.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Then I suppose I’ll have to choose carefully.”

  “That would be my suggestion.”

  Her eyes sparkled in the flickering glow of the firelight. Her smile was mischievous and sexy as hell.

  “Then I choose you.”

  As she pressed him back against the dark red leather, Hunter willingly surrendered to the fantasy. To her.

  A WINTER SUN WAS STREAMING through the bedroom windows when Gillian awakened. Once again the bed was empty, but she didn’t suffer that same feeling of loss this morning because she knew that while Hunter might not yet be prepared to admit it, their relationship had entered a new phase.

  It was more than the sex, she considered as she stood beneath the sybaritic shower and luxuriated in the hot water streaming over her body. A body that ached pleasantly after a
long, dazzling night of shared fantasies. What was proving even more surprising than Hunter’s imagination was her own. She never, in a million years, could have pictured herself being so…well, brazen.

  Not that he’d minded. Indeed, for all those long hours, Hunter had willingly surrendered the reins of control to her, and by morning, Gillian had amazed herself with her inventiveness. Hunter, on the other hand, had professed to have no surprise, declaring that he’d known from the first that deep down inside, she was a remarkably passionate woman.

  “And he was right,” she murmured, feeling more than a little self-satisfied.

  But their relationship was more than just dynamite sex. Gillian suspected that Hunter didn’t share his work with just anyone, and while he certainly hadn’t given her the secret classified computer codes to take over the world, she also valued the idea that he trusted her enough to tell her as much as he had.

  He’d wanted her from that first night. By the time they’d made love, he’d let her know that he admired her. And now he trusted her.

  Gillian’s lips curved slightly as she ran the sponge over glowing skin that seemed extraordinarily sensitive since her arrival on Castle Mountain. Surely those were stepping-stones on the path to love?

  She was still smiling as she poured a cup of the coffee from the carafe already brewed in the kitchen. He’d also fed the cat, she realized as she viewed the empty plate and bowl of milk on the floor next to the box of sleeping kittens. That little evidence of domesticity caused a warm glow to radiate inside her.

  She debated tracking him down, worried he’d be irritated if she intruded on his work, then decided to take the risk.

  “After all,” she reasoned as she wound her way down the hallway toward his office, “Hunter is definitely not a man to do anything he doesn’t want to do. If you’re in his way, he’ll tell you.”

  She opened the door and belatedly realized that Hunter was not alone, which was a surprise, since she hadn’t heard anyone arrive and had been getting accustomed to only the two of them being in the house.

  “Good morning.” Hunter greeted her with a smile, but she could detect little seeds of worry in his eyes.

  “Good morning. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  She was also vastly grateful that she’d chosen to put a long black silk robe over a nightgown of midnight lace that revealed more than it covered. She wasn’t exactly dressed for company, but at least she was fairly decent.

  “Don’t worry about it. We were just finishing up.” He rose. “This is Dylan Prescott,” he said, introducing her to the man who’d also stood up. “He established the brain factory. Dylan, this is—”

  “Gillian Cassidy.” The man was handsome in a rakish, boyish way. His grin, which touched his intelligent eyes, was rich and warm, and although Gillian was certain that it had undoubtedly coaxed its share of women into sharing sexual favors, it didn’t move her nearly as much as a half smile from Hunter could. “I’m a huge fan.”

  “What a nice thing to say.”

  “It’s the truth,” he said easily. “My wife’s a fan, too. In fact, she keeps duplicates of all your CDs in her car.”

  “Oh, I do like to hear that.” Feeling more at ease than when she’d first opened the door and found the stranger with Hunter, Gillian smiled.

  “I also have instructions to invite you to dinner,” he revealed. “Perhaps Hunter would be willing to share you long enough for the four of us to attend Winterfest together this weekend. It’s the island’s annual festival.”

  “Gillian won’t be staying on the island that long,” Hunter said quickly, brusquely, before Gillian could respond.

  “I see.” Dylan glanced over at Hunter, then returned his attention to Gillian. “Perhaps next time you visit,” he suggested, changing gears smoothly.

  The tension in the room was palpable, like the precipitous drop of the barometer before a violent storm. Gillian sensed an unspoken message flash between the two men and suspected that somehow it involved her.

  “I’d like that,” she agreed faintly.

  “Didn’t you say something about needing to get back to your own work?” Hunter asked Dylan. Once again his attitude was brusque, bordering on rude.

  “That’s right, I did,” Dylan responded on cue.

  Gillian guessed that the founder of any research lab where Hunter would work would undoubtedly be brilliant. That didn’t make him a good actor. His tone and behavior were both decidedly forced.

  “Gillian, it’s been a pleasure meeting you.” That, at least, seemed genuine. Dylan took her hand in both of his. His eyes, as they met hers, seemed to be filled with sympathy.

  She murmured a similar statement as Hunter practically dragged the scientist away.

  HUNTER WAS NOT SURPRISED to find Gillian waiting for him when he returned from seeing Dylan out of the house.

  “You weren’t serious, were you?” she asked. “About me leaving?”

  “Actually, I was.” Because Hunter dreaded the wounded-puppy look he feared he’d see in her eyes, he began shuffling through some computer printouts on his desk. “You knew, when you first arrived, that I wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship, Gillian.”

  “You made that point perfectly clear.” Her tone was icy, but Hunter easily heard the heat lurking beneath it and once again considered that Gillian was definitely a woman of contrasts. “You brought me here to have sex with you for thirty nights. In case you’ve been too wrapped up in your work to look at a calendar, that time isn’t nearly up.”

  He shrugged, still keeping his attention on the pages of data. “Perhaps the game has worn a little thin.” Although it was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done, he made himself look her directly in the eyes. “Perhaps I’ve grown tired of you.”

  Hunter heard her sharp intake of breath and hated himself as he watched the color drain from her cheeks, leaving her looking as fragile and transparent as crystal. But then, as he watched with fascination and admiration, the wounded wraith turned into the female warrior she’d played last night with such stimulating perfection.

  “I don’t believe you.” Hectic red battle flags waved in her cheeks. Her eyes glistened. Hunter wondered whether the tears she was refusing to shed were born of pain or anger. “But it doesn’t matter, because a deal’s a deal, Hunter. In case you’ve overlooked the impetus for all this, I’m here because my father cheated you so horribly.”

  Determined to get her out of the house and off the island, where she’d be safe, Hunter wasn’t about to admit that they’d moved far beyond that.

  “You profess to be a man of honor,” she reminded him firmly. “Men of honor keep their word. And our deal was for thirty days.”

  “Nights,” he corrected her on a mild murmur.

  “Thirty nights,” she agreed with a toss of her fiery head, which, as important as this conversation was, had him recalling how it had felt like burning silk against his thighs last night. “So, like it or not, Hunter St. John, you’re stuck with me until the time’s up. If you’re truly bored, and you don’t want to make love—have sex,” she corrected quickly when his eyes narrowed, “fine.”

  She folded her arms across the front of the black silk robe. “Having spent twenty-five years sleeping alone, I won’t die of loneliness. However, wherever you spend those nights, or with whom, I’m not leaving.”

  If it wasn’t so serious, if he wasn’t so worried about her, if he didn’t want to get her off the island, Hunter would have almost been amused by the way she held her ground.

  He shook his head and tried to reassure himself that as long as no one could reach Castle Mountain due to the storm, she should be safe.

  “George was right. You’re not easily tamed.”

  She was also not one to hold a grudge. She smiled, a slow, siren’s smile that he feared would linger in his memory and still excite him when he was in his nineties and living in some retirement home for mad scientists.

  “Perhaps,” she suggested, with a bold-as-brass look as she untied the black silk sash at her waist, “you just need to work a little harder at it.”