Love's Dangerous Territory Read online

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  Love's Dangerous Territory

  by C. L. Scholey

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  Erotica/Romance

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  Whispers Publishing

  www.whispershome.com

  Copyright ©2010 by C. L. Scholey

  First published in 2010

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Love's Dangerous Territory

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  About the Author

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  Love's Dangerous Territory

  C. L. Scholey

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. This material is meant for mature audiences!

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  Love's Dangerous Territory

  A Whispers Publishing Publication

  August 2010

  Copyright (C)2010 C. L. Scholey

  Cover illustration copyright (C) 2010 Rene Walden of BG Designs

  ISBN Not Assigned

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  Published by: Whispers Publishing, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165.

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  Dedication

  For my sister Julie, who said I could. For Seani, who helped. For my husband Sean, and my daughter Cassie. And for my mother, Marilyn.

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  Prologue

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  “It's a good thing these cameras have zoom lenses. You wouldn't catch me that close to one of those great, hulking beasts,” the pretty young woman confided. She crouched amidst the brilliant colored foliage, well shielded. The forest was thick with vegetation even though they were well into autumn. Her voice carried barely above a whisper to escape detection.

  A man of fifty plus squatted closely to her and smiled indulgently, he then chuckled softly. She wasn't frightened of the massive animal, just voicing her opinion. Her long, feather-light, brown hair blew into her heart-shaped face and across her camera lens. She batted at it, annoyed, and repositioned her camera. A rapid succession of pictures was rifled off at lightning speed with quick efficiency.

  “They are beautiful though,” the man responded.

  The huge, lumbering Kodiak stood to his full height and scratched long vicious claws at a tree, shredding the bark, marking its territory. The camera was again in action.

  “Yes, very beautiful and very deadly,” the young woman replied softly. She then lowered her camera and gazed up at her boss. The Kodiak dropped down and rummaged through the forest floor, grunting softly.

  “There are more deadly and frightening things out there that walk the earth, Christy. Yet, I agree with you. I'm beyond glad we are way over here,” her boss said just as softly, with an air of teasing mystery.

  “Oh, Sam, you are always so melodramatic,” Christy said, rolling her eyes.

  Her boss chuckled lightly. “And you are way too innocent.”

  Christy and Sam backed away from the massive bear slowly, quietly, their soft-soled running shoes making no sound on the muffled carpet of wet leaves upon the dense forest floor. Christy placed her camera back into her backpack as they walked along a well-worn animal path.

  Surprisingly, they were not far from the large cabin they had rented, and soon enough were entering the front door, feeling the relief they always felt at returning safely. The area they were in was far north, hundreds of miles from the nearest civilization. Human population was almost nonexistent. The animals ruled here; it was their domain. It was not uncommon to wake to a moose at their front door, chattering raccoons scurrying across the roof, or a curious bear that ventured forth to gaze into a window. The eerie, yet beautiful song of wolves was sung nightly for their entertainment.

  Christy dumped her backpack onto the rustic, solid maple kitchen table and headed for the ancient refrigerator. She removed a bottle of spring water, cracked the lid, and took a long, satisfying swallow. Sam reached around her for an ice cold beer.

  “Looking forward to heading home?” Sam asked.

  “I'm looking forward to being clean.” Their cabin possessed a small, serviceable shower; however, Christy had been warned against using soap, perfume, or deodorant while shooting. They didn't want any of the wildlife attracted to them by curious odors. It would be too dangerous. “I'm dying to sink into a hot bubble bath and use shampoo and conditioner. My hair's all full of static, and I'm tired of cotton mouth. I want to use toothpaste again on my toothbrush.”

  “What is it with women and cleanliness?” Sam asked, and finished half of his beer in one swig.

  “Same as it is with men and beer,” Christy retorted, eyeing him intently. “We've just got to have it.”

  “All right, I give,” Sam relented, holding out his hands in supplication, smiling.

  Christy yawned tiredly. It had been a long week. If they were successful, this photo shoot would make a name for her. Her greatest joy was wildlife. Sam had been gracious enough to include her along this time. She knew he had more experienced photographers; offhandedly, he had casually mentioned he saw something in Christy that reminded him of himself. She had a real gift for her profession. Though not exactly fearless, as she was very cautious, her shots were indeed works of art. She brought life to her still pictures, as though capturing the animals’ spirit or their very soul in timelessness.

  “I guess we better get packed up,” Sam said. He stretched widely while groaning loudly.

  “I suppose,” Christy said, and emitted her own soft sigh. She glanced longingly around the spacious, though somewhat primitive old cabin. Even though she had been working, this still felt like the first vacation she'd had in months. Photography was her passion, her life. Work was sitting at a desk, doing the laundry or dishes, not taking pictures of beautiful animals. Her gloomy eyes flashed briefly towards Sam. She was already feeling a sense of nostalgia.


  “You're good, Chris, one of my best. I know that now.” Sam placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You've proven yourself. We'll be back, sweetheart, I promise.”

  Christy's eyes lit up gratefully. She had followed him around all week without hesitation. She had trudged after him through the engrossing woods, capturing pictures of bears, wolves, cougars and bobcats. The wildlife magazine that had contracted them would be more than impressed with their work, she felt certain.

  Christy's face glowed with unveiled gratitude. She headed off to her room to pack. There wasn't much to pack, just enough to fit into a duffel bag. It wasn't as if they needed clothes for socializing. Christy hadn't bothered with makeup, and most often, her long hair was held back by a single elastic in a serviceable ponytail.

  Sam headed to the fridge and once more cracked open a bottle of beer, the last.

  “Looking forward to being back in the big city?” Sam asked Christy.

  They traveled slowly along the rough terrain in their rented jeep, bursting occasionally through the wayward branches that stretched as though to keep them captive. The only indication of a road was a hint of wheel indentations within the ruts on either side of the vehicle.

  Christy hung on absently to the handle above her window to steady herself.

  “No,” she replied shortly. There was nothing to go home to. She was an only child, both parents deceased. Not even and aunt or uncle to call her own.

  Sam sat quietly beside her, though he cast a sad, sorry glance towards her that spoke volumes. She was already feeling her loneliness. For one brief week she'd had him all to herself. She was by no means attracted to him, and Sam knew that. It was his companionship she coveted, nothing more. At fifty-four he was more of a father figure, he had been for the last six months. Sam reached out and gently clasped her hand. She felt her cheeks flush when he laughed softly at her death grip on the armrest between them as the jeep jumped and rocked.

  “We will come back,” Sam once again promised.

  Christy knew the snow would soon be falling. Their return would not occur until the following year, months away. She would be alone again. She would once more be forced to return to her lonely apartment, her solitary existence. After her parents’ deaths, Christy felt there was nothing keeping her in her hometown. Her failed relationship with her boyfriend went sour and she had needed to get away quickly. Answering an ad for a photography studio, Christy had sold everything and moved, hoping to start fresh. She hadn't realized the damage her ex had caused, and she was afraid to make friends, afraid to repeat a disastrous relationship. Christy began to once again harden her heart against the impending loneliness. She gazed out the windshield to the road ahead, becoming lost in her thoughts.

  Christy's emotions closed down, her eyes shuttering over to keep out rays of self-doubt, filter aloneness. Sadly she knew one of the reasons Sam had been hesitant to include her was because of her distant attitude. He had commented she was a sweet, skilled young woman, but she couldn't blame him for being reluctant. After all, who wanted to spend an entire week in seclusion with someone you felt was emotionally constipated and withdrawn?

  She knew Sam had been pleasantly surprised as her joy at being included caused animated responses. With his help, she seemed to crash free from her concrete shell with each picture she took and shared with him. With each sentence they spoke, she showed her eagerness for acceptance, and she was so grateful to him for his patience and understanding. Her transformation from a world of emotionless zombies into a world of the emotion-filled living increased. A metamorphosis took place. Her conversations with him were witty and thoughtful, filled with intelligent insight. She was well versed, and though she knew he felt her to be young, at only twenty- three, was able to articulate on his own level.

  Sadly the concrete was reconstructed. She had no desire to return to the real world, a world of cruelty and hurtful people. Her enigmatic shield was again soundly in place as they approached the small landing strip which would take them to a larger airstrip in a single engine plane.

  Upon vacating their vehicle, Christy slung her duffel bag to her shoulder. The sky was blue, though a few clouds dotted the horizon; there was a crisp bite to the air. They approached their pilot, Howard. A small, charming man in his early sixties, Howard came forth and extended his hand to Sam.

  “Good trip?” Howard inquired.

  “You bet,” Sam responded, and eagerly shook the man's hand.

  “How about you, little lady? I see no dashing bear made off with you,” Howard said.

  Strands of tawny fine hair blew into Christy's eyes and she lifted a slender hand to brush her locks aside.

  The pilot was assessing her with a small smile; his look was appreciative, not predatory, and she wasn't offended. She was only about five foot two. Maybe one hundred and five pounds fully clothed and soaking wet. She was used to a man's open stare, it happened often enough, and had learned to differentiate long ago between lewd and admiring. Lewd she ignored, admiring she thought to be delightfully sweet.

  “I've got a slight change in flight plans; you know, a last minute thing. I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable, but it's only a two hour flight,” Howard mentioned as they walked towards the tight quarters of his six seat plane.

  “Oh, and what's that?” Sam questioned as they boarded.

  Christy stopped dead in her tracks. Already on board was a police officer. Dressed in plain rumpled clothes, unshaven, his expression somewhat haggard, she could still tell he was a cop, as his handgun was in plain sight, strapped to his large chest under his opened jacket. It wasn't the weapon that gave him away. It was the dangerous, dark-haired, dark-eyed, powerful, angry looking man in handcuffs beside him. A man whose eyes bore into Christy's, keeping her more captive than he was.

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  * * *

  Chapter One

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  “Ma'am.” With a tip of his head the officer respectfully acknowledged her.

  Christy felt herself impaled by the dark-haired man's intense stare.

  “Come on Christy, it will be fine,” Sam said gently.

  Sam took Christy's arm and propelled her to the two back seats. They buckled themselves in. Christy made a point of looking out the window, at the floor, into her sweat-dampened hands. She knew the man's gaze was following her every move, burning her image behind his cold, calculating eyes.

  “Sam?” Christy finally mumbled hesitantly, her eyes fleeing to his. The small, fine down hairs on the back of her delicate neck rose to stand tall with her apprehension. She would have liked nothing more than to crawl under her seat.

  “It's all right, ma'am,” the officer was quick to say. “You're in no danger.”

  The pilot gave a meaningful scowl at the officer. “Mr. Morrison is a regular and extremely well paying customer and a good friend. If he even so much as mentions he doesn't want your prisoner in the same plane as himself or young colleague, you will have to be removed immediately.

  “So it's your call, Sam,” Howard said. “But the next plane out won't be for at least three days and I'm told a storm is brewing, so it could be longer before I can make my way back.”

  “Sir, you have my word you are in no danger. It is detrimental I get my prisoner to our destination. I can't afford a delay,” the officer said.

  Christy could detect the slightest hint of urgency in the man's tone. His jaw clenched and unclenched. She felt goose bumps rise on her skin. She wondered what these men could be running from—or perhaps they were hiding. From the looks of the powerfully built dark-haired man and his unnerving glance, she was certain she didn't want to know. A cold feeling of foreboding ran ice cold fingers up her spine. She resisted the urge to run from the plane.

  “Just keep his eyes front,” Sam grumbled out with obvious annoyance.

  The officer gave a quick jab to his prisoner. “Cool it, Lando,” he commanded.

  After offering Christy a smug, lascivious smile that m
ade her cringe with apprehension, the dark-haired man turned slowly to face front, then settled back leisurely.

  “All right, everyone, seatbelts on and sit back. Remember to keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times,” Howard offered, though no one smiled at his lame attempt at a joke. “Whew, tough crowd,” he then commented, shaking his head.

  Christy closed her eyes and hung onto Sam's arm unconsciously. She hated takeoffs and landings. They seemed even worse in smaller planes, though she knew Howard was a competent pilot. On their trip there he had been witty and kind. Their flight had been uneventful, if mildly turbulent.

  Noisily, the engine revved. The somewhat uneven, grassy airstrip jolted them slightly as the plane gained momentum; the numerous coniferous trees at the sidelines whisked by. With Howard's practiced ease they were soon airborne. Christy gave a soft sigh once the aircraft evened itself out. When she opened her eyes the man, Lando, the officer had called him, was again staring at her intently. She also noticed Sam's dark glare as he locked his own angry eyes on the man, once again trying to divert his attention from Christy.

  “I said, cool it!” the officer snapped at his prisoner, and again gave him a good jab.

  Lando offered him a contemptuous look. “What the hell are they gonna do, open the door and ask me to leave?” He scoffed.

  “I got two parachutes,” Howard said with a wide grin, as if in warning.

  Christy watched as Lando narrowed his unnerving eyes, assessing the pilot. She could see his grudging respect for the scrappy little man. It was apparent Howard wouldn't take any of the man's nonsense. The feeling was a comfort. She could see Lando's annoyance as he settled himself back, and she gave a sigh of relief when he closed his eyes, apparently deciding to drop the issue.

  Christy woke with her head on Sam's shoulder. She sensed she hadn't been asleep very long. After Lando decided to leave her alone, she relaxed, then gave in to her well deserved weariness. Now fully awake, she yawned slowly, and then realized she felt a bit of discomfort.