Landers pulled back a palm frond and nodded silently
toward the clearing beyond. Kayli eased forward to peer over
his shoulder. His unique scent of male, sunscreen, and
cologne assailed her senses and left her light-headed.
She blinked and caught a blur of white. A wood stork
stood near the trunk of a small live oak and rocked slightly
in place. Landers turned his head, his face inches from
hers. She concentrated on the bird; she could feel him
wanting her to notice something.
"Oh my gosh," she whispered. The bird stirred at the
sound. "He's got a hook stuck in his beak."
She could feel Landers nod. His scent seduced at this
close range, and she wanted to scream at the sudden desire
to wrap it around her like a cloak. One day out in the sun
and she had completely lost her mind. She shook her head hard.
"What?" he whispered softly.
"Nothing. Can you help him, Landers?"
A smile twitched at one corner of his mouth. "How do you
know it's a him?"
She fought the continuing flush at his nearness and gave
a devilish grin. "No self-respecting female wood stork would
eat something with a fish hook in it," she whispered back.
"She'd check her food first."
His jaw dropped, and she wanted to scream in exultation
until she saw the grin start and his eyes darken.
Apprehension sapped her mirth. Her mouth went bone-dry.
Twelve inches separated his lips from hers. Not far in the
grand scheme of things.
He shifted. Ten inches separated them.
She hazarded a brief glance at his eyes. All dark, no color.
"When are you going to call me Skye?" His voice sounded
husky.
The blur of white snagged their simultaneous attentions.
The stork hopped, and closer inspection showed monofilament
line dangled from the hook and twisted around the bird's
legs, leaving him nothing but an awkward hop for locomotion.
Kayli stifled a gasp.
"He hasn't been like that long," Landers said, watching
her expression.
She couldn't say whether the sudden twist in her stomach
came from fear for the wounded stork or fear of falling for
Landers. This man could read her mind, and that alone should
scare the devil out of her.
"How do you know?" she managed to ask and kept her eyes
focused hard on the bird. She felt him turn.
"Because he'd have starved by now. Wading birds that
can't walk and stir up the bottom sediments for food soon
starve." His face was close enough she could feel the change
in temperature against her cheek. Her insides felt like
jelly, and she imagined the press of her lips against the
sultry mouth waiting only inches from hers.
You don't really have a boyfriend, her heart reasoned.
Her better judgment prodded her with the argument she
had, in fact, convinced this gorgeous man she did have a
boyfriend. Would he think her a loose woman if she kissed
him now? She knew deep down Landers waited for her to turn
and face him, but at this close range she didn't dare. She
was unprepared to cross the invisible line. Even the bird
had shifted to stare in their direction, and his tiny dark
eyes begged for help.
"Please help him." Her eyes stayed on the distressed bird.
"Skye," he whispered in her ear. "Please help him, Skye."
She wanted to jerk away from the warm breath against her
ear, and at the same time wanted to press her ear against
his lips. She couldn't focus enough to draw air into her
lungs. Her whole being focused on the warm breath against
her ear, and she felt faint. She swallowed a lump that had
eased into her throat and managed a small breath of air.
"Please help him, Skye."