Water From the Moon by Terese Ramin Read Free Book Online Page B

back on his head before he stepped from the stall. It had been a long and completely unexpected day, and he wanted sleep, love, rest, calm, love….
    He stopped. Hell, he just wanted.
    He picked up the fluffy yellow towel from the rack where he’d left it. It had no business being in this misbegotten Third World niche. Acasia, not Fred, would have supplied it, he was sure. She had never been opposed to roughing it, but she had liked her little luxuries. He found it oddly comforting that here, amid the tangle of past and present, something so small hadn’t changed.
    Unhurriedly he blotted himself dry. The shower had revitalized him just enough so he’d be able to sleep—except that sleep seemed like such a waste of precious time. He’d made contact with the one person from his past who had done more to mold and shape him into who and what he was than everyone else combined. He wanted to explore her, to absorb her. She bewildered him. She’d been there today when he’d needed her, but then she’d backed away from him even when her eyes had told him that she wanted desperately to stay. He was intrigued; he felt compelled to know why. There were so many questions in need of answers. Hours of them, years of them.
    If he went and found her again now he might get what he sought, might find more of her than she’d let him see in the forest. A million years ago they’d shared a hundred stolen midnights, talking, laughing, dreaming. The late hour had made it easier to reveal the truth, share their hopes.
    He twisted the towel around his waist and stepped to the door. It was time for some answers.
    * * *
    Heat blazed and took on unaccustomed proportions as it slid down her throat to her belly. The glass holding the liquid flame clunked to the counter, and Acasia shut her eyes, coughing fire with the first swallow of whiskey. The fresh T–shirt she’d pulled from her pack clung to her already, trapping moist air against her body.
    All she’d wanted was to be with Cameron a while, to relieve the ache of all the missed yesterdays and then move on. This morning she’d honestly thought a moment, a day, would be enough, but she’d been wrong. Bits and pieces of Cameron would never be enough. She wanted all of him.
    She combed her fingers through her hair in confusion. After years of carefully cultivated numbness, Cameron had made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. He’d made her remember what it was like to be close to someone, and what it was like to trust. And he’d made her remember what it was like to dream about tomorrow.
    Dangerous business, dreaming.
    Her hand clenched spasmodically around the glass of whiskey, and her thoughts blended into a dull roar. Damn memory, anyway!
    She let her head drop back loosely, rolling it from side to side to ease the tensions the alcohol had missed.
    Cameron was so much more in real life than memory had made him: stronger, infinitely more obstinate and—Acasia’s stomach tightened suddenly—sexier. She thought about her unbridled response to him in the forest.
    Dispassion, she told herself, draining her glass, then reaching for the bottle to splash in more. She couldn’t allow herself to care. It was a self–imposed rule of her profession. She’d been a security consultant and retrieval expert just under ten years. She was completely self–reliant, expertly trained and perfectly qualified. Her father and the army had unwittingly seen to that. Simon Jones, jewel thief turned writer, lecturer and recovery agent, had instilled in his only daughter a passion for speed and the same unequaled burglary skills his own father had passed on to him. The army had provided her with the discipline and knowledge to hone those skills for this purpose. Between them they’d made her formidable, hard when she had to be. A woman professional men took seriously. She had what every woman wanted, right? Independence, respect, a career she’d fought for—had designed for—herself. So why did