Page 28 of Cutter’s Lady

“No. It seems quite bitter to me.” Leslie looked down at Cutter’s hand on the table between them. Why had she never noticed before how appealing his hands were? Long, slender fingers, tanned and strong. She bet his fingers were callused. Idly she reached out and ran her forefinger across the back of his hand, tracing the lines of his bones beneath the skin.

The movement of her finger over his skin sent delicious shivers all through her. Leslie didn’t know why she was talking to Cutter this way and she understood the need to touch him even less. Hadn’t this been just the thing she’d wanted to avoid earlier? But right now, she didn’t really care. This was too pleasant. No, not pleasant. Nothing about Cutter was pleasant. He was…exciting.

She studied him. The sharp planes of his face had softened, the pale eyes grown warmer. She noticed the shape of his mouth, the clear-cut upper lip and the fuller bottom lip; tiny lines ran out from the corners of his mouth, and to one side was a slight indentation that became a deep dimple when he smiled. His hair was soft and shiny, falling carelessly around his face. It really was a sin for a man to look this good all scruffy and disheveled.

Leslie thought that she would like very much to touch his hair; she wondered what it would feel like under her hands. She reached across the table and brushed her fingertips along the edge of his hair. His eyes widened and turned suddenly darker.

“I thought you’d ordered me to stop my macho sexual behavior…” Cutter said, but he didn’t pull away from her touch. “Not sure you really know what you’re doing—we should head back to the hotel so you can sleep it off.”

“They might have been slightly strong, but I only had two drinks. I know exactly what I’m doing. And maybe I don’t want to sleep.” Leslie smiled provocatively.

Cutter caught her hand and pulled it down to rest against his cheek. His skin was warm and faintly roughened with a day’s growth of beard. Leslie moved her thumb gently across his lips, learning the different texture of them, tracing the shape. Cutter caught the ball of her thumb lightly between his teeth, pressing without hurting while his tongue darted like wildfire across the sensitive pad.

Leslie barely restrained a gasp, but she didn’t move. Then his mouth released her, and she brought her hand back reluctantly.

“Let’s go.” Cutter’s voice sounded hoarse. He tossed a bunch of brightly colored bills onto the table and came around to pull back Leslie’s chair. As soon as Leslie stood and started walking, she realized she really wasn’t very tipsy. It was almost scarier to realize these urges had been inside her and she hadn’t even needed to be drunk to act on them. She’d just needed the very flimsiest excuse to do what she’d been craving ever since Cutter had kissed her.

Cutter followed Leslie out the door and came up to walk beside her on the sidewalk. His arm curled around Leslie so that his hand rested flat on her stomach, and its presence there set up a tingling inside. His breath ruffled her hair.

Leslie gave a small sigh of contentment and snuggled into him. She hadn’t felt this good since…well, not since she could remember. She wasn’t drunk, even though it had been sweet of Cutter to try to give her an out earlier. She knew what she was doing. Where this was going.

They were both adults. And this was Cutter. He wouldn’t want any entanglements. He wouldn’t worry because she was being impulsive. It wouldn’t lower his opinion of her—that was already at rock bottom. And his kiss could melt a glacier.

Wasn’t this the sort of thing people did in exotic places—what happens in San Cristóbal stays in San Cristóbal? Put aside their normal behavior and their reasonable lives and just break free for a little while? It wasn’t in character for her, of course. But surely she could be out of character for just one night. She could forget about Blake and guilt and responsibility. She could just have fun.

Cutter opened her door and settled her inside the car, then went around to get in the other side. Leslie was lounging and faintly humming some pop song. She was definitely off-key. Cutter smiled and started the car. This was turning into one hell of an interesting day.

***

The hotel wasn’t far away, and they reached it quickly. Cutter parked the car in an empty lot beside the building and went around to open up the back. As he got out the luggage, Leslie opened her door and floated back to where Cutter stood.

“This is where we’re staying? I don’t know why you were so disparaging of it earlier—it’s a lovely hotel!” she exclaimed, looking up at the building next to them.

When Leslie had looked up Chempua in the restaurant earlier, she’d made sure to read about the hotels in the area—there was nothing to say she wouldn’t find a great investment opportunity while she was here—and this one in particular had caught her eye. It was a rather old hotel but with an air of grandeur, built of massive white limestone and ornately carved above the doors and at the corners. The doors themselves were of heavy, dark mahogany, over ten feet tall. A doorman dressed in red and gold opened the door for them as they approached.

Inside, the lobby was small and a little faded and tired in places but still had an air of elegance. According to what she’d read earlier, at the turn of the century Chempua had almost rivaled La Luz in commerce, being nearer to the plantations where the products were grown. This hotel had been built then, before the increase of production in the southern part of the country and the modernization of the roads had pulled much of the business away from the city and to La Luz. Time had eaten away at the gracious old place, but it was still lovely. She let go of Cutter and spun slowly around, taking it all in.

Cutter crossed to the desk to check in and pay for their rooms for the night and Leslie followed him. He handed a folded bill to a bellman and sent him up to their rooms with their bags. He wanted to drag Leslie up there too—immediately—but he held back. What if she was less sober than she now seemed and she regretted her earlier flirtation tomorrow morning? He took a deep breath and steeled himself, then turned to Leslie, who was obviously enamored with the charm of the place.

“Would you care for a walk?” he asked. “Take in the sights?”

“I would love that!” Her smile was dazzling. Cutter put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him again.

They stepped out of the front doors, and Cutter quickly spotted the white car parked across the street. Cutter angled Leslie so they were walking to the left, away from the white car. He’d been so caught up with the change in Leslie and what it all meant and if it was genuine that he’d momentarily forgotten the reasons behind what they were doing. His plan seemed as far off as that first mistaken impression of the woman who was currently leaning seductively into him.

They walked down the sidewalk like a couple out for an evening stroll. But even though he hadn’t alerted Leslie to the car’s presence, Cutter was painfully aware of other considerations now. Considerations beyond the soft warmth of Leslie’s body against his side and the lingering traces of her perfume wafting up to tease his senses. He was alert for signs of trouble and avenues of escape. Without seeming to, he checked out the side street as they crossed it, noting the location of the hotel’s side door and the fact that it could not be seen from the white car.

“Look at those flowers,” he told Leslie, turning to face the grassy central median of the boulevard and pointing out a profusion of huge red flowers bursting from the long, curving stems of a bush. From this position he was able to turn his eyes and glance back down the street in the direction of the white car. It was still parked where it had been, but there was a man in a blue shirt now walking along the other side of the street, headed in the same direction Cutter and Leslie were going. Cutter was positive the passenger of the white car had worn a blue shirt. One of the men was following on foot to see what they did while the other remained in the car, no doubt to bring it up quickly if it was needed.

“What are they?” Leslie gazed at the flowers. “They’re gorgeous.”

“Poinsettias.”

“What? Seriously? Growing in clusters on those big bushes like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go across the street and look at them close up.”