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Authors: Elizabeth Lowell

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BOOK: Chain Lightning
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Mandy’s words were as quiet, flat and blank as her eyes. She still had the eerie feeling of being divided in two – half of her screaming soundlessly in pain and anger, the other half watching with unnatural calm.

“Fine,“ Andrew said curtly. “So we’ll have hamburger.“

“Like hell.“

He rubbed his forehead in sudden pain. “Mandy, I’ve got a real splitter. Could we put this on hold?“

“You can put it where the sun don’t shine,“ she shot back. “I’m going home right now if I have to swim.“

“If I break camp and take the gear, there will be too much weight in the plane.“

“Who said anything about breaking camp?“

“Mandy – “

“If we hurry,“ she interrupted, her voice brittle, “in a few hours you can be back here grunting and sweating on top of little miss loose thighs.“

“Why don’t you stay and watch? Maybe you’d learn something about how to make a man feel like a man!“

Mandy spun around and left the tent, heading for the airplane.

It wasn’t that easy, of course. Andrew couldn’t believe that his young wife wouldn’t change her mind once she had cooled off. Mandy endured the arguments and pleas and insults because there was no other choice, no place to go, nothing she could do but wait for Andrew to give in or for tomorrow’s early ferry to leave the island, whichever came first.

It was Andrew who finally gave in, sometime in the lost hours before dawn. Grim-faced, unnaturally pale, he strapped himself into the little plane. The tiny strip was unmanned and not set up for night takeoffs, but Andrew had flown in and out of Catalina so many times that he didn’t even hesitate. The small plane leaped into the air, climbed, executed a crisp turn and headed for the mainland.

For once Mandy wasn’t nervous about being in the little plane. She was more afraid of what her husband’s next cutting justifications for adultery might be than she was afraid of the plane itself. A swath of city lights glittered on the mainland horizon, a beacon of life and color beyond the blank darkness of the sea. Next to her Andrew piloted the plane in silence, his hands too tight on the controls. Several times she thought he was going to speak, but beyond kneading his neck and left shoulder from time to time, he concentrated exclusively on flying.

Gradually Mandy became aware that Andrew’s breathing had changed. Simultaneously she realized that the altitude of the plane had changed, as well. Instead of flying level, they were descending. The plane had lost so much altitude that the mainland’s glittering lights were barely a tiny thread across the darkness. It was as though Andrew were going for a landing, yet there were no lights below, no airport, nothing but the black sea.

“Andrew? What are you doing?“ She turned and saw him. “Oh, God! Andrew!“

His face was bathed in sweat and his mouth was flattened in a grim line of pain. He was flying one-handed. Before her horrified eyes he groaned and went limp. Instants later the plane ripped off the top of one wave and bounced onto the peak of another and then another, skimming the surface of the sea like a flat rock thrown by skillful hand.

But unlike a rock, the plane could float. For a time. Long enough for a dazed, battered Mandy to realize what had happened. Long enough for her to claw off her harness and her husband’s. Long enough for her to pull futilely at his slack body, wrenching with all her strength and calling incoherent prayers, trying and trying to pull him out the buckled passenger door, kicking at the door with her feet and screaming and yanking at Andrew’s dead weight.

Suddenly cold water surged upward, engulfing the white wreckage, pulling the fuselage down and down, taking her and her immovable burden with it…

* * *

Sutter lifted his attention from the fascinating patterns of indigo and glittering silver reflections that gave the sea around the Great Barrier Reef so much visual variety. Each difference in color represented a change in the depth of the sea, a change caused by the presence of the tiny animals that were in the process of further enlarging the greatest mass of material ever assembled by any life-form anywhere on the face of the earth. From orbital distance, even the most dense metropolitan sprawls of humanity didn’t register on the human eye; the Barrier Reef did. More than twelve hundred miles long and sixty stories from bottom to wave-combed top, the reef formed a 100,000-square-mile fringe to Australia’s northeastern edge.

And just off the nose of the plane, only a few minutes away, lay tiny Lady Elliot Island, a scuba diver’s paradise. Elation surged within Sutter, making him smile. He had wanted to go to Lady Elliot since the first time he had heard of the island twenty years before. Now it was finally within reach, the southernmost coral island of the immense Great Barrier Reef complex, an island that was no more than a tiny mote decorated with white breakers, lime green lagoons and an ocean so clear that he could count more shades of blue than he had words to describe.

The plane banked, shutting off Sutter’s view of Lady Elliot Island. Eagerly he leaned to his left, over Mandy’s lap, peering out her window. The plane straightened, shifting his weight unexpectedly. He bumped into Mandy.

“Excuse me,“ he said loudly over the engine noise, “I…“

Sutter’s words trailed off as he realized that Mandy hadn’t noticed him. She was rigid in her seat, her hands clenched together, her face gleaming with sweat. It occurred to him that he couldn’t remember her moving at all during the flight. She hadn’t even crossed and recrossed her ankles or shifted her purse or rummaged inside it for a comb or a piece of gum. It was as though she were a statue.

“Mandy?“

There was no answer. Sutter touched Mandy’s hands. The chill of her skin shocked him; the plane was too small to be air-conditioned, which meant that the interior temperature was well into the eighties. There was no reason for her to be so cold.

If Mandy felt Sutter’s touch she didn’t show it. Nor did she appear to notice the plane’s descent. She was unnaturally still, as white as the coral beaches and landing strip below, her skin icy to the touch.

Abruptly Sutter understood that Mandy hadn’t been joking at the Bundaberg airport; she really was terrified. Even as he reached out automatically to comfort her, he overrode the impulse, forcing his hands back to his sides. So far she had somehow managed to control her terror. Anything he did might snap that fragile restraint and send her into a bout of hysterical screaming. The pilot didn’t need that kind of distraction at the moment – there was a hard crosswind blowing and the coral landing strip was little more than a white line gnawed through the sturdy she-oaks that had colonized the island.

The pilot crabbed in, compensated for the relatively calm air between the she-oaks and dropped down onto the crushed coral runway, dumping speed as fast as he could. Sutter’s eyes widened when he saw why the pilot was in such a hurry to stop – a colony of terns was nesting on the far half of the strip.

The pilot knew precisely what he was doing. He stopped short of the birds with room to spare. He shut down the engine, popped open the side window for ventilation and stretched. The passenger sitting next to him hopped out, followed by the pilot himself. In order for the four people seated behind Sutter to exit, he had to get out first, for until his seat was folded down, there would be no way for anyone in back to scramble out of the plane. He looked over at Mandy. She hadn’t moved.

Sutter got out quickly, helped the remaining passengers out and then climbed back in. Mandy neither moved nor acknowledged her surroundings in any way.

“Mandy, it’s all right. We’ve landed.“

Sutter’s voice was low, soothing. She didn’t seem to hear him. Slowly he removed her black, oversized sunglasses. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, dilated, and what he had thought was sweat was actually a slow rain of tears. Gently he stroked her white, cold cheek.

“Mandy, you can come back now. It’s all over. You’re safe.“

He repeated the words many times, touching her very carefully, telling her that she was safe. After a few moments she shuddered once, violently, like a swimmer struggling up from the black depths to the surface of the sea. Slowly her eyes focused on Sutter.

“That’s it, golden eyes. Look around. You’re safe,“ he murmured, smoothing the back of his fingers down her cold cheek once again. “Ready to get out now?“

Mandy fumbled at the fastening of her seat belt, but her hands were shaking too hard to accomplish anything. Sutter took care of the buckle with a swift motion, then eased her from the seat, taking most of her weight when her legs proved to be as uncertain as her hands had been.

“Lean against the frame while I get out, okay?“

Before Mandy managed to nod, Sutter had slipped out and was turning to lift her onto the blindingly white coral runway. Carefully he set her on her feet.

“Can you walk?“ he asked.

He watched her lips form the word
yes,
but before she could speak she crumpled. He caught her, lifted her into his arms and began to walk toward a small building that was all but hidden by she-oak trees.

Ray, who had been unloading the plane’s small baggage compartment, saw Mandy faint. He sprinted forward.

“What happened?“ he demanded.

“Jet lag,“ Sutter said laconically. “Which tent is ours?“

“This way. Need a hand?“

The idea of turning Mandy’s limp form over to anyone else was frankly distasteful. Sutter shook his head in curt refusal. Then, realizing how rude the gesture had been, Sutter added in his best Australian accent, “No worries, mate. She’s not that big.“

Ray hesitated, smiled slightly and led Sutter at a brisk pace along a crushed coral pathway. As he walked, Sutter shifted Mandy until her head was supported by his chest. He kept her tucked in close, dividing his attention between the path and her white face. The slow, even movement of her breast against his left hand told him that she was breathing well, despite her pallor. He hurried between tents and a few spartan cabins, barely noting the dive gear propped everywhere. There were curious glances from a few well-bronzed, husky young men lounging in front of one tent, cans of Fosters Lager firmly in hand. A wave-off from Ray told the men that things were under control.

“In you go,“ Ray said, pulling aside a ragged tent flap.

Two single mattresses rested on the tent floor, one to each side. The clean white sheets, neatly folded white blankets and oversize white towels looked rather incongruous against the worn canvas.

“Usually there are double bunks,“ Ray explained hastily, “but they’re all taken. This tent wasn’t rented because it was a spare that needed mending. Wind can blow bloody hard here. We got the worst rips repaired, but – “

“It’s fine,“ Sutter interrupted, laying Mandy on one of the mattresses and propping her feet instead of her head on the pillow. “I’m still surprised you fit us in on such short notice. Anthea must have moved heaven and earth.“

Ray grinned. “Don’t know about heaven, but there was a hell of a to-do here until we found a place to put you.“

He knelt beside Sutter and looked at Mandy’s pale, delicate face. “You sure she’s all right?“

Sutter held his fingers against the pulse in Mandy’s throat. The flow of blood was steady, even and reassuring. There was nothing to suggest that anything more than exhaustion and fear was at work on her body. Color began coming back into her face even as he watched.

“She’s coming around right now.“

“Water is in the thermos by your bed. I’ll go out and tell the blokes what’s what – unless you need me?“

Sutter shook his head, never lifting his intent green gaze from Mandy as he stroked her smooth cheek. Long, dense black eyelashes fluttered. She murmured and turned toward the source of the slow, gentle caresses that were warming her cheek. Her lips brushed the back of his knuckles and her breath sighed warmly across the sensitive skin between his fingers.

Desire coiled suddenly, heavily, in Sutter. He told himself it was only that Mandy had aroused his protective instincts – and then the memory of her elegant, naked back and the satin gleam of her skin beneath the stage’s spotlight came to him. A hot shaft of desire pulsed through him, pushing his shorts into a new shape. It was a response that had occurred more than once when he had looked at Mandy.

/
need this like I need the bends. Damn Anthea! How did she know that Mandy turns me on? Did I somehow give it away during the few days I was in the office? I spoke less than twenty words to Mandy, and all of them were strictly business.

There was no answer to Sutter’s silent question except the hard thrust of desire lying heavily between his legs, tightening his body until he ached.

Too bad Mandy isn‘t like whatsherfanny, the glamour girl Anthea shipped off to New York. But Mandy isn’t the type for fast affairs and faster goodbyes, and that’s all I want from a woman. So stand down, John Thomas. There’s nothing doing with this woman.

Mandy nuzzled against Sutter’s hand. He yanked it back as though she had bitten him. Even so, the sensory impact of her lips burned on his skin, making a mockery of his attempts to control his unruly sex. Sudden anger rushed through Sutter, anger at himself for not understanding that Mandy truly had been afraid, anger at Anthea for meddling by throwing matches and gasoline together on a remote coral island, anger at his pulsing body for demanding something it wasn’t going to get and pure masculine rage at Mandy that she could arouse him simply by being alive.

Three weeks. In a tent. Listening to her breathe. God, I’ll go crazy.

But first I’ll throttle my damned meddling aunt!

Mandy made a low sound as she swam up from the depths of her nightmare. Her eyes opened, focused, and her breath came in sharply. Sutter’s green eyes were very close to hers, watching her with something that looked like anger.

“What…?“ Mandy asked, wondering what she had done wrong now.

“You fainted,“ Sutter said in a clipped voice. “How do you feel?“

Slowly Mandy looked around. She was in a tent and a wind was gusting, alternately belling out the canvas sides and collapsing them again. The screened flap of the tent’s front opening was in shreds that fluttered with each movement of the air. Beneath the wind came the sound of distant surf. The unmistakable smell of the sea was rich in the humid air.

“We didn’t crash,“ Mandy said.

“You seem surprised.“

She looked at him blankly. “Crashes happen.“

“Not very damned often or people wouldn’t fly.“ Sutter came to his feet in a powerful, impatient movement, not wanting to stay any closer to Mandy than he absolutely had to. “Feel like sitting up?“

Slowly Mandy brought herself into a sitting position. Sutter clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. He wanted to help her, sure, but not half as much as he wanted to feel her in his arms again. The knowledge only fed his anger. He should have let the handsome, solicitous Ray haul Mandy to the tent and nurse her to consciousness.

Sutter’s instant, savage rejection of that idea did nothing to take the sharp edge off his temper. The rational part of his mind calmly pointed out that jet lag, fatigue and lack of sleep were taking their toll of him as surely as they had of Mandy. The irrational part of his mind told the other part to get stuffed – his long-awaited vacation had been ruined and he was in no mood to be gracious about it.

“Dizzy?“ he asked curtly.

Mandy shook her head. All she felt was utterly drained.

“Good. Why don’t you get in your suit while I get Ray to walk you down to the lagoon. You can take a ride in the reef boat or go for a lazy swim in some of the most beautiful water in the world. You’ll feel much better and – “

“No,“ Mandy said, shuddering. “The only thing that scares me more than small planes is the ocean.“

“Then the reef boat – “

“No. I can’t take anything smaller than the
Queen Mary.“

Sutter’s last hope of a decent vacation evaporated, and with it went his temper.

“Let me get this straight,“ he said coolly. “I’ve spent a lifetime trying to get to the Great Barrier Reef, and my sainted aunt has fixed it so that I’ll be locked up in a tent for three weeks with an amateur comedian who’s afraid of her own shadow!“

“I’m not so hot on the idea myself,“ Mandy retorted, feeling strength return on a rush of anger. “I’d rather spend the time in a cage with a hungry tiger than trapped here with you!“

“I sense an area of agreement emerging,“ he said sardonically. “If you get your butt in gear, we can stuff some tranquilizers down your throat and get you back to the airfield before Earl takes off for the run back to the mainland. We’ll give you some for the road, too. With luck, you’ll be safe in your little burrow at home before the last of the pills wear off.“

“Never,“ Mandy said, her voice climbing. “I will never get on that little white plane again!“

“Fine. I’ll charter a boat.“

“No. It won’t be big enough.“

“Then I’ll blindfold you so you won’t know the difference,“ he shot back. “Or are you afraid of the dark, too?“

“Go to hell, Sutter.“

“You’re the one who would like it there – it’s dry and there’s not a pair of wings in sight!“

BOOK: Chain Lightning
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