Page 15 of Heart of Fire


  Maybe she’d aim at his head, she thought with pleasure. Granted, his head was probably the hardest part of him, but if the rock was big enough it might make a dent and get his attention. Aloud she said sweetly, “What a good idea! Now I won’t worry so much about finding it the first time.”

  He had learned that the saccharine tone in her voice meant she was thinking up something particularly nasty to say or do to him, and he threw a wary glance over his shoulder. Her expression definitely was not sweet. She looked as if she was contemplating dismemberment—his—and reveling in anticipation. Damn it, he’d never met a woman like her before. She was strong and confident and levelheaded, certainly not qualities he’d ever been particularly attracted to; he’d always looked more for a good sense of humor, a lack of inhibitions, and big hooters. Jillian definitely didn’t qualify for the last two, though she did have a subtle, slightly warped sense of humor that kept him on his toes. He couldn’t intimidate her, couldn’t embarrass her, couldn’t seduce her. He was beginning to wonder if there was anything he could do to her.

  For over two weeks he had seldom allowed her to get more than ten feet away from him, and she had been out of his sight only during calls of nature and when she had zipped herself into her tent the past three nights. Even during the calls of nature, he had made a point of being close by, and keeping a lookout for Dutra at the same time. Such enforced close contact with any other woman would have driven him crazy with boredom by now; Jillian was driving him crazy, all right, but not with boredom.

  The truth was, he felt alarmed and annoyed that she wasn’t right beside him during the nights so he could keep an eye on her. What if Dutra tried to get into her tent? Sure, Kates had evidently gotten it through the bastard’s head that he had to be on his best behavior on the trip inland, but that didn’t mean Ben trusted him for a minute. Jillian had her little trick with the tape to jam the zipper on the tent flap, and she had her pistol, but what if Dutra simply sliced his way into the tent? Would Jillian hear him and wake up in time? She had shown herself to be more than capable; in fact, she had been one step ahead of him most of the time, and that was aggravating as hell. But he still worried and fretted, because if he didn’t have her soon he was going to either explode or turn into a babbling idiot.

  When he had her safely back in Manaus, he was going to lock himself in a hotel room with her and not come out until he had another guide job, which might be a month or more. A whole month of making love . . . He indulged in some very graphic fantasies for a moment; then his eyes narrowed as he realized that another job would mean leaving her behind, and she probably wouldn’t be there when he got back. No, independent Ms. Sherwood would hop a flight back to the States, or she’d be haring off to dig up some old bones somewhere.

  He halted in his tracks and turned around to glare at her. Behind her, the entire column lurched to a halt, but he didn’t spare them a look. “You’ll damn well stay where I put you,” he snapped, and turned back around to slash viciously at a vine.

  “You’ve lost it, Lewis,” she muttered as she started after him again. “The heat has gotten to you.”

  “It’s not the heat,” came his return mutter. “It’s a critical buildup of sperm.”

  She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “Oh, I see. Your brain has become clogged.”

  “Something’s clogged, all right, but it isn’t my brain.”

  He sounded so irritable that she wanted to pat him on the head and say, “There, there,” but she didn’t think he would appreciate the gesture. Instead she asked, “If celibacy is so difficult, how did you manage on your other expeditions?”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder again, the intense blue of his eyes flashing in the green-tinted dimness. “Usually it isn’t.”

  “Isn’t what?”

  “Difficult.”

  “So what’s different about this trip?”

  “You.”

  “Keeping you reminded, huh?”

  “Something like that.” He was muttering again.

  She fell silent, but she was smiling. So he was feeling frustrated, was he? Good. It was no less than he deserved.

  He stopped again, suddenly motionless, and she skidded to a halt to keep from knocking into him. Behind her, everyone else also stopped, and something about his alert stillness made them abruptly wary. Slowly Ben unslung the shotgun.

  He whispered something to Pepe in the Tukano language, and the wiry little Indian whispered a reply.

  “Back up,” Ben murmured to her. “Very carefully. Don’t make a sound.”

  Easier said than done, but under the silent urging of Pepe and Eulogio they were all retracing their steps, carefully placing their feet to avoid twigs, using their hands to keep limbs from swishing, inching backward with far more caution than they had used while advancing.

  Ben stopped again. Jillian tried to see past him, but his broad back blocked most of the view. He made a slight motion with his hand that told her to freeze.

  Then she saw it, her eyes suddenly picking out the details from the forest surrounding it. Fierce eyes, golden and predatory, locked on Ben who was at the head of the column. A magnificent golden coat, dotted with black rosettes and blending almost perfectly with the dappled foliage. A thick tail with the tip twitching as if with a life of its own.

  The jaguar crouched in wait, powerful muscles bunched. Jillian’s muscles were so tight that she could barely breathe. She wanted to look away from the big cat, feeling as if it were mesmerizing her, but she didn’t dare break eye contact in case it charged.

  The humidity seemed to increase now that they weren’t moving, and the intense smells of the jungle crowded in on them, with another scent added: the acrid smell of a big cat. Sweat trickled down her temples and stung her eyes. They stood motionless for so long that the birds in the area, which had initially taken alarm, began to sing again. Tiny brilliant hummingbirds darted close by, and a giant butterfly with six-inch iridescent blue wings fluttered over the barrel of the shotgun, even briefly alighting before continuing its leisurely flight through the jungle. Monkeys high overhead were barking at one another as they normally did. Lizards went about their business of snaring ants and termites, tongues flicking out with hypnotic regularity.

  And they stood there, pinned by the big cat’s unblinking yellow gaze.

  If the jaguar charged, Ben would have to kill it. If anyone behind her made a reckless movement, that might trigger an attack. She began praying that, for once, Rick would control his impatience.

  Then suddenly the monkeys began screaming in alarm, making her glance upward, and there was a great scramble aloft; unseen tree limbs high above began swaying with the commotion, making the dangling lianas dance and tremble. Ben still didn’t move. She heard a deep, rough cough, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck lifted in primal warning. When she looked back, the jaguar was gone.

  They stood there for what seemed like an hour, and probably was. Behind her, either Rick or Kates made an impatient sound that was quickly silenced by a warning gesture from Eulogio. Finally Ben motioned for Pepe to move up beside him; the litter was carefully set down, and Pepe edged around Jillian. He and Ben slipped forward and returned ten minutes later walking normally, though their eyes were still warily searching every bush and tree. “Jaguar,” Ben said succinctly.

  “Oh, hell.” It was Rick, his disgust plain in his voice. “You mean we stood here for an hour because you saw a damn cat? Why didn’t you just shoot it?”

  “I would have if it had attacked. It didn’t. No point in killing it.” Not to mention there were strict laws against killing the big predators. He didn’t figure that would matter to Sherwood, so he continued, “I don’t want to fire any shots if we don’t have to; not only are there tribes in here who sort of worship the jaguar and wouldn’t take kindly to us killing one of them, but I don’t want to pinpoint our location for anyone.”

  Those two reasons apparently made sense to Rick, and he dropped the subje
ct. Without any more fuss they started forward again, but for the next several miles everyone was jumpy, staring hard at the foliage in an effort to see if it hid a big spotted cat.

  Jillian didn’t see a flat-topped mountain. She told herself not to panic, that they hadn’t had a full day’s walk from the time the terrain had started rising. Probably she wouldn’t find the mountain until tomorrow. But there weren’t any breaks in the triple canopy, and she couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction. She began to fret that if they were even a little off course the mountain would be blocked from view. Also, the ground was becoming increasingly uneven so she had to devote more time to watching her feet. If they’d had to do this kind of walking on the first day, she wouldn’t have made it half so far. They were all more accustomed to the exertion now, though it was only the third day, but she could feel her breathing becoming more and more ragged, and her legs were aching.

  Perhaps he could hear her breathing, for Ben slowed the pace. She knew now how he had developed that rock-hard body. If there had been an ounce of fat anywhere on him, he would have burned it off during the first hour. The machete was never still, effortlessly hacking out a clear path for those who followed him. His stride never faltered, his alertness never diminished.

  Ben and the two Tukanos hadn’t lost any weight since they started walking, having already been down to pure muscle, but the rest of them had. Jillian suspected she had lost at least five pounds; her pants were looser around the waist and hips. She might not lose much more weight, for her muscle mass would increase from the exercise and make up the difference, but she would lose even more inches, and she began to wonder how she would hold up her pants. Her web belt was in the last notch now; she would have to resort to braiding vines to tie around her waist.

  Thunder began to rumble overhead, and they could hear the first raindrops pattering in the canopy overhead. The umbrella of trees was so thick that little rain actually fell directly to the ground; instead, it eventually dripped from the leaves or ran in rivulets down tree trunks and lianas. There was no way to avoid getting wet without losing a couple of hours waiting for the forest to stop dripping, but they halted during the worst of it and took shelter under the tarps they had brought along. She dreaded the first hour after the rain, for that was when the humidity was at its absolute worst, the jungle literally steaming under the intense equatorial sun.

  The storm was brief that day, and they were on their way again within half an hour, struggling to breathe the heavy air. The humidity was so irritating that conversation was always at a minimum during this part of the day, and the added effort of having to scramble over rougher ground made it worse.

  She didn’t realize how high they had climbed until suddenly the vegetation thinned and the sun broke through, almost dazzling her with its brightness. They were on the side of a ravine, with a sparkling, shallow stream at the bottom of it. Mountains loomed overhead, silent and primitive, undisturbed since their creation millions of years before. And right in front of her, smaller than the others, was a mountain with a broad, flat top, an understatement in a land of superlatives. A rather insignificant mountain, drowsy and peaceful, no challenge at all in its existence. “Ben,” she said. “There it is.”

  He stopped and looked, his eyes automatically going to the highest elevations, which were rolling and uneven. Then he let his gaze slide downward and focus on the table mountain before him. “All right,” he said. “We’ll go a little farther and camp for the night while you figure out the coordinates for the next leg. Unless my ears are going bad, there should be a small waterfall ahead. If Pepe says it’s okay, we’ll be able to clean up tonight.”

  There was a waterfall, not very big, not very forceful, just a ten-foot spill of water onto a rock ledge that had been hollowed out over the centuries by the constant battering, before the stream flowed on its way to join with the Rio Negro and then the Amazon itself. Pepe and Eulogio pronounced the water safe. Only Dutra was unenthusiastic about the idea of a bath, but he sullenly went along. Jillian remained at the camp, content to wait her turn, but Ben stayed behind also. She gave him a cool look.

  “If you’re thinking about taking a bath with me, you can forget it.”

  “Do you want to strip naked and take a bath without a guard?” he returned calmly. “I’ll stand watch while you bathe, and you can do the same for me. I would have gone on with them, but I didn’t like the idea of leaving you here alone. Of course, if you don’t mind Dutra watching . . .”

  “You’ve made your point.” She didn’t like his plan, but accepted the necessity of it. She wasn’t modest so much as private; it wouldn’t be comfortable to be naked in front of Ben, nor would it be very safe, come to that, but the alternative was to remain dirty and she could barely stand herself as it was. She would keep her back turned to him and get it over with as fast as possible. He was serious about guarding her, and wouldn’t abandon that responsibility to make an attempt at seduction. For the seduction attempt he would probably wait until she finished her bath.

  While they were waiting for the others to return, she bundled her soap, shampoo, and clean clothes into a towel, and Ben whistled as he did the same. “Are you going to leave your pack here? You know Kates will go through it.”

  She gave him a thoughtful look, then took the pistol out of the pack and slid it into her bundle.

  “What about the map?”

  “He can’t read it.” She grinned. “Want to see it?”

  “I’d be a fool to say no.”

  She took out her notebook and unfolded a thick sheet of paper. There were a few rudimentary drawings on it, but nothing that would pinpoint location. The instructions were the damnedest bunch of gibberish he’d ever seen.

  “You can read this?” he asked doubtfully.

  “No. I can deciper it, though.”

  He chuckled. “Where are we now?”

  She pointed to a sentence about halfway down the page. “Right here.”

  “Great. That tells me so much. You don’t have the code written down anywhere?”

  She sniffed. “Do I look like a fool?”

  “You haven’t written it down when you’ve been decoding this mess?”

  “Remember, I decoded and memorized the entire thing before I ever came to Brazil; this is just so I can recheck. Anyway, the code changes with each word. Unless you know the key, which I also have memorized, none of it is going to make sense.”

  “This is really going to piss Kates off,” Ben said with satisfaction. “He’s probably twitching with anticipation, knowing that we’ll both be away from the camp for at least half an hour.”

  “Longer than that,” Jillian corrected. “I’m going to wash my clothes while I have the chance.”

  “Good idea. You can wash mine while you’re at it.”

  “You can wash your own.”

  Wearing a pained expression, he placed his hand over his heart. “You’re an unnatural woman. Don’t you know you’re supposed to want to do things for your man?”

  “I don’t remember ever claiming you as mine, so the issue doesn’t arise. But I can’t think of a reason why any woman would want a man who was too lazy to do his own laundry.”

  His expression became mournful. “No wonder you aren’t married.”

  “And no wonder you aren’t.”

  “I’ve never wanted to be.”

  “Neither have I.”

  He watched her for a moment, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the exchange. Then he lightly flicked the tip of her nose. “Ever been engaged? Had a serious relationship?”

  She thought about it, then shrugged. “Nope. A guy once asked me to marry him, when I was in college, but I wasn’t interested.”

  “No one since then?”

  “I’ve dated,” she said. “But not steadily with any one man.”

  “So what do you do for fun?”

  “Work.”

  She had to laugh at his disbelieving look. “Working is more fun than da
ting,” she said. “I’m not interested in getting married, so I don’t see the point in dating much. If I like someone’s company, that’s fine, but it would be silly to tie up a lot of time in a relationship that won’t go anywhere.”

  He got to his feet and glared down at her. “So you were screwing on the balcony with some guy you barely know?” he demanded wrathfully.

  She felt completely at sea for a moment, without any idea what he was talking about. Then she remembered the hammock and began to laugh. “I’ve never had sex on a balcony with a stranger.” Or with anyone else, for that matter.

  She had that sweet tone in her voice again, Ben noticed. He felt like shaking her. “Great. At least you’d been introduced.”

  “What are you getting so sarcastic about? Haven’t you ever had a one-night stand?”

  “Plenty, back when I was young and stupid, but I’m a lot more careful now.”

  She shrugged, as if she couldn’t understand his problem. “So am I.”

  He stalked away, muttering to himself. A minute later he stalked back, and stopped so close that his boots were nudging hers. “So why won’t you have sex with me?” he demanded, his jaw set.

  He was in an absolute fury, she saw. The urge to laugh again was almost uncontrollable, and she bit the inside of her cheek to hold it back. “I don’t want to have children right now,” she said with perfectly feigned bewilderment, “so what would be the point in having sex?”

  His jaw dropped, and he stared at her in disbelief. “Holy shit,” he finally said, as if to himself. A strange look entered his eyes. “You’ve never had a climax, have you?”

  Too late, Jillian saw what she had done. Appalled, she jumped to her feet. “You stay away from me,” she warned, backing away. To Ben, the thought that no other man had been able to give her pleasure would be an irresistible challenge. He was so sure of his own masculine sexuality that now he would be doubly determined to have her, to show her the pleasure of it. She had just meant to tease him, but instead she had all but issued a direct challenge to his ego.

  Sure enough, he moved closer, unconsciously stalking her. “So that’s what it is,” he murmured. “Sweetcakes, don’t you know I’ll take care of you? I’m not one of those men who jump on and jump off again five minutes later. I like to take my time, stretch it out for an hour or so.”