Rainbow Fire Read online

  "On my side of the bed," she warned.

  "No worries. I'm too whacked to do anything, anyway."

  Despite herself, she felt a tug of sympathy. "You know, if you hadn't gone and tried to act like a hero, you wouldn't be so whacked."

  "I won't have your life in danger," he said, pulling her closer. "What would I do if anything happened to you?"

  Something gushed through her, a warm spring that washed away the barriers she had been trying to build against him. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked softly, lifting her face to his.

  "Sleep with me. Dream with me. Mine with me tomorrow."

  And though she looked for the resources to say no to the second, she found that they had washed away, too.

  * * *

  JUMBUCK LAY IN the warm cradle of Dillon's lap. He had opened his eyes when Kelsey and Dillon came into the bedroom, then closed them again after a good look. His only other response had been a faint purr when Dillon picked him up.

  "I'll wager he's got one splitting headache." Dillon carefully stroked the cat's fur.

  "And you know how that feels." Kelsey lifted one of Dillon's feet and slipped off his boot. The sock came off next, and then she massaged the bottom of his foot, paying special attention to each toe.

  He groaned with pleasure as she repeated her ministrations on the other foot.

  "Are you ever going to tell me what happened tonight?"

  He heard the nip of sarcasm behind her words. "I'm not keeping anything from you. I'm just not sure my brain's relaying messages to my mouth. It got pretty bashed up tonight."

  "Your brain or your mouth."

  "Both."

  "Someone should teach you some fighting skills," she said sweetly. "If I had time, I'd take you on."

  He laughed a little, and the effort made him pale. "I have a few skills. It was just that the other three men had a few, too."

  "Three?" She dropped his foot to the ground. "Three?"

  Even Jumbuck stirred at the question.

  "Three. Of course, one of them was out of commission almost immediately, so I suppose you could really say just two—"

  "Why didn't you take on the U.S. Marine Corps while you were at it?" She slapped her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  "They hadn't landed at that point."

  "Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

  Dillon stood, laying Jumbuck gently on the bed. "I had some trouble finding Serge. He must have known he'd been spotted racing away."

  "Then you knew it was Serge by the description of his truck?"

  "I was fairly certain, yes."

  "And you didn't tell me?"

  Dillon started to take off his shirt, but he paused at the first button. "Shall I go on? Or are you going to yabber at me some more?"

  Kelsey had learned how little good yabbering did. "Go on."

  He undid the buttons one by one. "He was at a mate's house. At least, the chap was his mate before I got there. He wasn't right fond of Serge by the time Serge finished talking."

  "Why not?"

  "Because he's Serge's mining partner. And Serge had neglected to tell him about the vein of opal he'd found."

  "That sounds like the Serge we've grown to love." Kelsey watched Dillon spread his shirt wide. The room was partially illuminated by the fading glow of a flashlight and the flickers of a fat red Christmas candle she'd found in a drawer, but even in the dim light, she could see his battle scars. "Look at you!"

  His chest was a rainbow of colors and guaranteed to turn black and blue. "Do you need ice packs?"

  "Just sleep." Dillon stripped off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. "The other chap was Serge's cousin, a fairly decent sort, actually, but attached to his family. He gave me a good apology, though, when he found out what Serge had been doing. Family or not."

  "Go on."

  "I got there, and Serge had been filling their ears with wild tales. They didn't give me time to explain my side. I had to make time," he said, the dimple deepening in his cheek.

  "Which you did at a certain expense to your own comfort."

  "Worth every blow."

  "And so all this—my father's accident, the attempt on your life, the dead kangaroo at the mine, and the shot fired at me— all this was because Serge thought that Rainbow Fire might have opal on the other side of the boundary?"

  "Don't forget the shots tonight and the destruction of the sun porch."

  By now Kelsey knew Dillon too well not to pick up on the fact that he hadn't really answered her question. "And you think all those things were Serge's fault?"

  There was the briefest hesitation before Dillon answered. "It makes sense. It's the only thing so far that does."

  "But you don't buy it?"

  "I'm too groggy to think straight right now."

  Kelsey instantly regretted the third degree she'd put him through. "We'll finish this tomorrow. Take off your pants while I get a washrag to clean you up."

  "Pardon me?"

  She tried not to smile. He seemed embarrassed. She liked the idea. "Your pants," she said in a no-nonsense voice. "Take them off. I'll be back." She took the flashlight and left the room, unleashing the smile as soon as she was in the hall.

  She returned minutes later with a basin of warm water, soap and washcloths. She had also found bandages and disinfectant. Dillon was seated in the chair nearest his bed, and his eyes were shut tight. She paused in the doorway, struck once again by what an appealing man he was. Even now, exhausted and aching.

  "You're not going to hurt me, are you?" Dillon asked, opening his eyes just a crack.

  "You big baby."

  "I thought I was a big bully."

  "That, too." Kelsey was strangely reluctant to cross the room and begin. She needed time to reflect on the night and everything that had occurred. She was afraid that if she began to touch him, there would be no time for reflection until morning.

  "I meant what I said about being too whacked to do anything," he said with a grin, his eyes wide open now. "You look like you're not sure I was serious."

  "Ridiculous." Kelsey crossed the room in record time. "Where do you hurt the most?"

  "Why? Are you going to make it worse?"

  She couldn't suppress a laugh. "I'll be gentle with you."

  "That was supposed to be my line tonight."

  "Funny how little things like explosions and rifle blasts can get in the way of a romantic evening." Kelsey smoothed the palm of her hand over his eyes so he would shut them. "I'm going to start with this cut over your forehead. I'll tell you when I'm finished."

  She worked slowly, and she could feel Dillon relax under her careful ministrations. He had some nasty cuts and bruises, but nothing seemed serious enough to warrant a doctor. He needed a good going-over and a soft body to warm his bed through the night, and she was ridiculously pleased to provide both.

  She was also ridiculously pleased to be running her hands over his body.

  "You can be gentle." Dillon sighed, as if he had been holding his breath waiting for her to hurt him.

  She marveled at the width of his shoulders. "Did you really doubt it?"

  "I wasn't certain you'd let yourself be."

  "I've been bruised after a fight myself."

  "Karate competitions?"

  "I don't like to compete. But I've had to, a time or two."

  "And you've won every time."

  He seemed so sure that she hated to disappoint him. "No, I'm afraid not. I don't have the killer instinct. I studied strictly so I could defend myself. There's this rule my sensei liked to repeat at every class. If you're attacked, run. Only fight if you have no choice. I took that to heart, and it ruined me for competition."

  He shook his head. "And you wanted to go tonight."

  "Somebody had to defend you."

  He laughed ruefully. "Are you almost finished?"

  "You've got a cut on this thigh." Kelsey tried not to concentrate on Dillon's briefs only inches from her hands.
<
br />   "Lord, Sunset. Let that one go."

  "I'm afraid not." Kelsey ran her fingertips around the cut, probing gently for further injury. Then she wrung out the washcloth and began to carefully wash it.

  "Ouch."

  "You're awfully tense all of a sudden."

  "Would you finish up down there so I can get some sleep?"

  Kelsey couldn't help but notice that a fair share of him didn't seem sleepy at all. She finished quickly. "Done."

  Dillon stood at the same moment that she straightened, brushing against her. He reached out to steady her. "Thank you."

  Kelsey noticed the constricted sound of his voice. She cleared her own throat. "You're welcome."

  He pushed her away. "I've got to get to bed."

  She suspected that what he had to do was pull the covers up to his chin. "I'm going to my room to get some clothes. Then I'll probably take a shower," she said.

  "I'll probably be asleep when you come back."

  Except that he wasn't, although he didn't say a word when she reentered the room dressed in a knee-length T-shirt. The candlelight still flickered, and in the semi-darkness she couldn't see clearly. But she could see enough to know that Dillon's tightly squeezed lids didn't belong to a sleeping man. And, as if the bed had been surveyed and divided, he lay absolutely still, not so much as a fingernail on her side.

  Kelsey set the flashlight beside the bed, then crossed the room to blow out the candle. She wondered what Dillon would say if she confronted him, but she immediately thought better of that. There was little she could say. Both of them knew now that aches and exhaustion couldn't extinguish the potent spark between them. Nothing could.

  And she knew something more. This day was ending, and with it a chance to become Dillon's woman was ending, too. A part of her was grateful. It was a step she needed to think more seriously about.

  But a part of her knew better.

  * * *

  KELSEY AWOKE SLOWLY the next morning. She hadn't slept so soundly, so comfortably, in all her memory. She had felt completely safe, despite the events of the previous day and evening. And as she awoke and became more aware of her surroundings, she understood why.

  Dillon's arms were encircling her, and her head was resting against his shoulder. Their legs were intertwined, and her T-shirt was twisted around her waist.

  She wasn't nearly as safe as she had thought.

  Kelsey wondered how to extricate herself without waking him. She could feel the warm, even brush of his breath against her forehead, and she knew that he was still sleeping. If she escaped now, he wouldn't know how intimately they had held each other through the night.

  She began with one leg, inching it slowly from its warm home between his. She tried to ignore the feeling of his flesh against hers. But ignoring it was impossible. The difference in textures fascinated her. She wanted to slide her leg back and forth, memorizing the feeling.

  Instead she continued to slip her leg from between his until finally she was free. In his sleep Dillon compensated by pulling her closer against his chest.

  Kelsey's other leg was anchored securely at the ankle by the weight of Dillon's. She flexed her foot, searching for an escape route. She found one and began the slow process of withdrawal. Dillon murmured something in his sleep and smoothed his hand along her side to rest on her bare thigh.

  Her legs were free, but the rest of her was far from it. And not the least of her problems was that she liked the way he was holding her. The motivation to continue separating herself from him was fast disappearing.

  Kelsey lay still against Dillon and thought about the events of the day before. She'd had lots of time to think as she had huddled between dust-besieged rocks, her continued existence no more certain than the whine of another bullet. She had wondered what she had accomplished in her twenty-four years and who would miss her if she died in the middle of an outback tempest.

  Her greatest regret had been that no one would. Her father didn't know her, and the rest of her family wished they didn't.

  There had been no time for friendships in her life, not at work, not at school, not even at the dojo.

  And then, as she had fought not to move, not to give away her presence, she had realized one stunning, incredible thing. She was wrong. Someone would miss her. Dillon would. Despite a relationship that could be described only as brief and rocky, Dillon would miss her.

  She had let Dillon know her in a way that no one else ever had. He was the only one in the world who had seen the whole Kelsey Donovan, the good, the bad, the proud, the stubborn parts and the vulnerable, emotional parts. He knew her, and he cared.

  And he would miss her.

  At that moment she had felt a stronger connection to him than anything she had ever felt before. And since that moment the connection had only grown stronger. But was she confusing gratitude for something else? And was she confusing their undeniable sexual attraction for something more important? If she succumbed to his lovemaking, would she leave Australia a happier woman? What had Melanie said the night before?

  The words came back with absolute clarity. "Take my advice, Kelsey, sleep with a man and enjoy him, but don't ever let him get to you. Because if you do, you'll find out that he owns you, body and soul, and you'll spend the rest of your life doing the craziest things just to make him love you."

  Kelsey realized she had already let Dillon get to her, and they hadn't even slept together—at least, not in the way Melanie had meant. She was only a step away from spending the rest of her life doing crazy things just to make him love her.

  Because she was almost in love herself.

  Dillon's hand drifted down her thigh to cup her bottom. She could feel each individual finger scorch her soft flesh. She hadn't believed a man could feel so good against her. She hadn't believed she could feel so good, period.

  Dillon stirred, pulling her even closer. "Are you awake, Sunset?"

  There was no use pretending otherwise. She forced herself to sound stern. "What are you doing on my side of the bed?"

  "I think the question needs reversing."

  "Well, if I'm on your side of the bed, it's because you pulled me over here."

  "A smart man, even in my sleep."

  "A smart aleck."

  "You're strong enough to get away if you want."

  Kelsey knew he was right. "I didn't want to wake you up. You needed your sleep."

  He chuckled against her curls.

  Kelsey slid her hands up to his chest and pushed, but she didn't move an inch, because his arms tightened. "Time for the fun and games to end," she warned.

  "Have they started?"

  "That's just an expression. American slang."

  "I don't understand it. Demonstrate."

  "You're not going to like what I demonstrate, Aussie."

  "Karate in bed?" He chuckled again, nuzzling his face into her curls. He kissed her head. "You always smell like lavender. My mother grew lavender, big glorious clumps of it in front of our house."

  "I've always wanted to smell like someone's mother."

  "You don't feel like someone's mother."

  Kelsey didn't point out that if she stayed in bed much longer, she might become someone's mother. "It's time to let go of me."

  Dillon didn't want to let go of her. "Yesterday," he said, "we almost made love. Was that gratitude because I found you in the storm? Did you need someone to cling to until you found your balance again?"

  "Yesterday was yesterday."

  "And today?"

  She couldn't lie, and she couldn't be honest. Instead she chose a path halfway in between. "Today I don't even know my own name. I just know this isn't right. Not now." Not until she understood her feelings. Not until she was absolutely sure she could control what was happening between them.

  Kelsey in his arms felt right to Dillon. More than right. Perfect. But as he forced himself to let her go, he knew how imperfect their relationship was. Kelsey would go back to the States. She would not remain in
Coober Pedy, because there was nothing for her here except dust and drought and unbearable heat. They could offer each other nothing lasting. And even if Kelsey didn't yet understand that part of herself, she was a woman who needed love, who needed permanence.

  He could give her one, but not the other. If he became someone else for her, a man tied to a desk chair in Sydney or New York, she would only be getting half of him, for the other part would be back in Coober Pedy, digging opals in his dreams.

  Kelsey slid to the far side of the bed, then sat, pulling her shirt over her hips. "I'm sure you want a shower, too. Would you like to go first?"

  "No, you go ahead."

  She wanted to leave; she wanted to stay. She wished for the time only days ago when she wouldn't have had a decision to make. But even as she made the wish, Kelsey knew she didn't want it to come true. Because then she wouldn't know Dillon, and, despite her struggles, knowing Dillon was worth it all.

  She forced herself to stand. "Shall I dress for the mine?"

  "Dress for a long, hard day."

  She risked a look at him. He was sitting up, and his head was in his hands. "Are you all right?" she asked softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

  He moved out of her range, subtly but unmistakably. "I'm fine. Go have that shower so we can get going."

  "Maybe you should take it easy today."

  He couldn't imagine sitting around with Kelsey waiting on him, touching him, questioning him in that worried tone. Whatever aches he had were nothing in comparison. "Go take that shower."

  Kelsey hesitated, but she knew her attention wasn't welcome. As she left the bedroom, she thought she heard Dillon sigh.

  Chapter 14

  KELSEY STARTED THE power winch that would bring Dillon up from the bowels of the earth. As she waited she removed her green slouch hat and waved the wide brim to stir a light breeze and scare away the small, persistent flies that were an outback fact of life. The breeze cooled her perspiration-slick forehead and cheeks, but did nothing about the flies. In fact, she suspected they were probably grateful to her for the breeze.

  "I'm nothing but a blasted resort for insects," she mumbled, bending to wipe her face on the hem of her khaki shirt.

  "Taken to talking to ourselves, have we?" Dillon peered over the top of the mine shaft that had taken them days of work to sink.