“And that’s why you’re giving my chest hairs a bath?” he bantered as one tear after another ran down her face.
She nodded, then shivered. “What’s going to happen to us?”
He walked her over to the fire and wrapped one of the blankets around her toga-style. “We’ll work it out somehow, I promise. Didn’t I tell you I was going to be your hero?”
“Please, you’re not going to sing again?”
“No, first I’m going to feed you. To build up your strength,” he said as he arranged several logs on the fire. “Then…” He flashed a mischievous grin at her.
“Then?” she prompted.
“Then we’re gonna play Marco Polo.” He winked.
She giggled and burst out laughing.
“I get to go first, of course.”
“Of course,” she said dryly. “Will I need a compass?”
He chuckled. “Nah, just follow my anchor.”
“Hmmm,” she said, swiping the last of the dampness off her cheeks. “Maybe I could be the figurehead on the prow of the ship. You know, one of those waist-high buxom babe things.”
“That’s the spirit, darlin’. And I could swab your decks.”
“Well, I don’t know. Would that occur before or after I raise your flag?”
“You’ve played this game before,” he accused boyishly.
They exchanged a warm smile across the fire. He was pulling food items from one of the saddlebags.
She knew Rafe had changed the subject in an effort to make her feel better. He was probably as confused and scared as she was.
Maybe things would work out, after all.
Chapter Sixteen
“Time for the last dance, sweetheart.”
Helen felt so warm and sleepy. She cuddled closer under the furry blanket and refused to open her eyes.
“Wake up, little Suzy,” the furry blanket said. “One more for the road.”
Helen chuckled in her sleep. What a dream! There she was on a Hollywood set, waltzing around with Fred Astaire, whose fuzzy sweater rubbed sensuously against her chest. No, it was Patrick Swayze, and they were dirty dancing in the Catskills. Maybe he wasn’t wearing a sweater, at all, and he was calling her Suzy, like that old song title.
But why did Patrick have dark hair and blue, blue eyes? And, boy, could he dip!
She slept some more, drifting from dream place to dream place. Now she was a little girl and her daddy was giving her a puppy. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“I’m not your Daddy,” her daddy said.
Poor man! It had always pained her father to refuse her a pet throughout her childhood, but they moved constantly from base to base.
“What a cute puppy! How affectionate!” she giggled. The darling, frisky pet was licking her belly.
She thought the darling, frisky pet grumbled, “I am not a dog,” as she yawned widely. Or maybe it was, “I’ll show you cute.”
Before she gave up her dreams for deep sleep again, she thought, That’s the nice thing about dreams. Blankets can dance and puppies talk.
Moments later, she entered a new dream. This time, she was holding a baby in her arms. “Oh, sweet baby!” she cooed.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” the baby growled in a deep voice. It must be a boy baby.
Helen looked down at the black-haired infant, and tears filled her eyes. A child to love! She would never be lonely again. Her dream come true. She ran her fingers through its surprisingly thick hair and cradled it closer. The infant’s mouth clamped over her breast, rooting.
Whoa! This baby has some suction power. And teeth.
Teeth?
Her eyes shot open. “Oh, baby!” she exclaimed.
“You called?” Rafe grinned and slid himself up her body. Lying on top of her, with elbows braced on either side of her head, he began to lower his mouth to hers.
She realized that her breasts were full and taut, pressed against his chest. Her legs parted and rubbed sensuously against his furry thighs. The fire had died down to embers, and dawn light filtered through the cave opening. Obviously, this “dream” had been going on for some time.
“What have you been up to, Rafe?” she chided with mock seriousness.
“Exploring.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “You wouldn’t wake up. So, I started without you.”