An hour. Dear God. She began to tremble at the thought of it. Not only was he sexy, he was slow.
“I don’t want you to take care of me,” she cried, holding up her hand to ward him off. “I just want to be left alone. Ben Lewis, don’t come another step closer!”
He did, stalking her as surely as any jaguar.
“All right,” she said desperately. “I lied.”
He stopped. “Lied about what?”
“I was just teasing you.”
“Teasing me.” It wasn’t a question. “You sure as hell have been doing that.”
“No, not like that.”
“That’s what you think.”
“Ummm.” She tried to gather her thoughts. “It’s just . . . your attitude gets on my nerves.”
“My attitude?”
“Don’t sound so bewildered. Your attitude. You know, the attitude that you’re God’s gift to women and can have who you want, whenever you want.”
He crossed his arms. “I pretty much can.”
She crossed her arms. “Except for me.”
“So that’s it,” he said slowly. “You’re doing it just for spite.”
“Is that any worse than what you’re doing? You’re trying to seduce me just to up your score.”
“I am not.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, oh.”
“Do tell.” She waited patiently.
He leaned so close that she could see the bright striations in those devilish blue eyes. “I’ve been trying,” he said, emphasizing the word just the way she had, “because you turn me on so much I’ve had a hard-on since the day we met.”
She didn’t want to hear that. It was almost impossible to keep from looking down. What if he did? She took refuge in sarcasm. “You would be trying just as hard with any other woman under these circumstances, so am I supposed to be flattered?”
“Now, there you’re wrong. I don’t mess around with married women.”
“Well, I don’t want to be messed around with, period.”
“Sure you do,” he said, a cheerful grin breaking across his face. “You just want to be talked into it so you’ll feel more appreciated.”
The sound of voices as the men returned from their baths was probably all that kept her from knocking him in the head. She turned away and snatched up her bundle, and he did the same. They didn’t speak as the men filed into the camp. Ben slung the shotgun over his shoulder. “Anyone who tries to sneak a peek will get his head blown off,” he said casually.
It was easy for Jillian to follow the path the men had made. It angled down the ravine for perhaps a hundred yards, which in the thickness of the jungle was well out of sight. The path ended just beside the narrow waterfall.
Ben studied the situation. “We’ll cross over to the other side,” he said. “That way I can see the path better. There’s room behind the waterfall to get past.”
There was, and they picked their way over the rocks to the other side. Ben took the shotgun off his shoulder and gave it to her. “I’ll go first.”
She didn’t protest, because she was rather relieved. She was especially nervous about undressing in front of him after the conversation they’d just had. Somehow, if he bathed first, it wouldn’t be so hard when she did it, and she was grateful that he’d suggested it. Sometimes, such as when he’d massaged her sore back, he could actually be considerate.
11
Considerate, my foot, Jillian thought five minutes later. Diabolical was more like it. She couldn’t take her eyes off him and he knew it.
He had stripped down to the skin with an utter lack of modesty that told her he was accustomed to being naked with a woman. Why would any woman in her right mind want him to wear clothes anyway? He was tall and lean and superbly muscled, and his buttocks were so round and taut that her hands instinctively curled into fists in an effort to resist patting them. He had the shoulders of a stevedore and the legs of an athlete, long and powerful. She had never enjoyed looking at a man more.
He stepped under the waterfall and let the water splash over him while he tilted his head back and shook his hair. Sunlight dappled on the flexing muscles of that marvelously strong body, and the water droplets spraying through the air glittered like diamonds. His genitals hung heavily between his thighs, and he was so perfectly, utterly male that her chest constricted, making it difficult for her to breathe.
Then he looked straight at her, the blue of his eyes so intense that she could see it even across the forty feet that separated them. He stepped forward a little, so that the main force of the water was hitting his back; he was right on the edge of the rock shelf above the pool of water. He was totally exposed to her, without the stream of water to blur the powerful lines of his body. As he stared at her, his shaft began to stir, to grow thick and long, to rise fiercely toward his belly.
Damn him, she thought feverishly. A more graphic demonstration of desire wasn’t possible. Nothing was so seductive as knowing that you were wanted, and he knew that. The potent reaction of his body to simply looking at her did ten times more damage to her resistance than any of his slick, playfully profane cajoling, or even those bone-melting kisses.
Her gaze went irresistibly to his erection and she felt herself literally grow weak. Her mouth began to water, and she swallowed convulsively. That thing was impressive, the shaft thicker than the bulbous head. She almost moaned aloud.
She dragged her gaze back up and met his, bright and expectant. Oh, yes, he knew exactly what he was doing to her. The man was so diabolical that she had another almost irresistible urge to throw rocks at him.
Humming, he finished his bath and even scrubbed his clothes, taking his time about it. Jillian’s hands tightened on the shotgun that lay across her lap, and she forced herself to scan the path that led back up to the camp, to see if any interlopers had dared test the strength of Ben’s casual threat. Birds sang and flitted from tree to tree without concern, the iridescent hues of their feathers glittering whenever they winged their way through a shaft of sunlight. It was peaceful and wildly beautiful, and the naked man standing under the waterfall was as much at home here as any of the jungle creatures.
What would it be like to live out here with him, she wondered, just the two of them, no one else around for hundreds of square miles?
No sooner had the thought formed than she scoffed at herself because of the ridiculousness of it. This wasn’t Paradise, and he wasn’t Adam. This was Ben Lewis, ruffian and adventurer. A woman would have to be crazy to even dream of any sort of permanence with him. All he wanted was a woman for the moment, someone to satisfy his immediate desires. Any woman would do. And afterward he would disappear on another of his treks. She supposed he would reappear occasionally, expecting to be fed and bedded, and he would seldom have any trouble finding a woman willing to do that for him. But that woman wouldn’t be Jillian.
Finding the Anzar city would be the making of her career. She would be able to pick her position, though she hadn’t decided yet what her inclinations were. She had no ties with the foundation, not after the way they had treated her concerning both Ouosalla and the Anzar. She had taken an extended leave of absence to make this trip, but she wasn’t certain she ever wanted to return. She definitely wouldn’t return to her same position.
She had decisions to make, decisions that didn’t concern Ben Lewis, no matter how magnificent he looked standing naked under a waterfall.
He had finished bathing and left the water to stand on the bank while he dried himself. He made no effort to turn his back, so she made no effort to look away. Instead she accepted his unspoken invitation and appraised him brazenly.
“You aren’t a very good guard,” he charged, a smile lurking around his mouth. “You spent more time looking at me than at the surroundings.”
“Well, you were doing everything but waving a flag at me to attract my attention,” she replied. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“A flag wasn’t what I was
waving,” he pointed out. “Now, if you said flagploe I’d have to agree, but—”
She snatched up a rock and threw it at him before he could finish the sentence. She had played on softball teams in high school and college, so she had a good arm and good aim. The missile struck him on the thigh, disconcertingly close to the flagpole.
“Ouch!” He gave her a horrified look. “Good God Almighty!” he bellowed. “Watch what the hell you’re doing.”
“I was watching. I’m very good at hitting what I aim at.” She picked up another rock. “Want me to show you?”
Hastily he turned his back, not wanting to take any chances with a wild pitch, or even one that was carefully placed. She’d had that dangerously sweet tone in her voice again, and he didn’t trust her for a New York minute. He pulled on his clothes before she could think of anything else, but soon found himself smiling again. All in all, he was pleased. He’d seen her reaction to his nakedness, and his arousal. She wanted him, all right. She didn’t have a prayer of holding him off much longer. He couldn’t believe her reasoning in holding him off this long, just to show him that he couldn’t have her. What in hell did that accomplish, except causing them both a lot of frustration?
But he had to admit it had been interesting. Jillian might drive him mad, but he’d certainly never die of boredom around her. He had to keep his wits about him whenever he was dealing with her in any capacity; he was used to being able to seduce women to his will, to effortlessly charm them, but Jillian refused to be either seduced or charmed.
He finished dressing and approached her, lifting the shotgun from her grasp. He gave the area a thorough survey before leaning down to kiss her. “Okay, it’s your turn.”
Her mouth throbbed from even that light touch. “Do you swear you’ll stay here and keep guard?”
His blue eyes turned cool. “This is something I take seriously, sweetcakes.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said contritely. He had protected her from the moment the trip started, with dedication and determination. He wouldn’t relax his guard or move from his post while she was bathing. Afterward, he might jump her himself, but he’d make damn certain no one else did. She had to be losing her senses, because the realization made her feel oddly secure.
Ben settled back and got comfortable, ready to enjoy the show, though he gave the area another intense survey before returning his attention to Jillian. His heart began pounding heavily at the prospect of seeing her naked.
Jillian stepped down to the edge of the water and took a deep breath. There was no getting around it: she had to take her clothes off in order to bathe, and she was not going to deny herself a bath. But if Ben Lewis thought she was going to put on a show for him, he was going to be disappointed.
She sat down and removed her boots and socks, then turned her back to him as she took off the rest of her clothes. She accepted that there was only a certain amount of modesty she could preserve, but she did what she could. Before removing her shirt, she took the towel and wrapped it around her hips. Then she slipped out of the shirt and undershirt, and adjusted the position of the towel so it covered her breasts. She didn’t dare glance up at him; she knew the scowl on his face would be as dark as a thunderstorm.
Then she slipped behind the waterfall and undid the towel, snagging it on a high rock to keep it dry. Naked, she stepped under the force of the water and had to hold back a startled cry at the power of it. It was cooler than she had expected, and it battered down on her head and shoulders. It was almost painful at first, but then her tight muscles responded to it and began to relax with pleasure. Taking care to stay near the back of the waterfall, and keeping her back turned, she grasped the bar of soap and happily began to scrub.
Ben watched the blur of her body in an agony of anticipation. Turn, he kept thinking, as if he could bend her to his will with his thoughts. Turn. He wanted to see her; he needed to see her. Not that he didn’t enjoy looking at her ass, what he could see of it through the water, but he wanted more. He wanted to see her breasts, to have an image of reality to replace his fevered imagination. He wanted to know exactly how the plane of her belly curved down to her mound, if her hair was straight or curly, thick and lush or a neat little covering.
His hands were sweating, and he wiped them off on his pants. His chest was heaving with the harshness of his breathing. Damn the perverse little witch, she wasn’t showing him anything. Didn’t she know how much he needed to see her?
A tiny movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he jumped to his feet, the shotgun ready as he searched the far bank with narrowed eyes. The movement came again, and he relaxed as he made out the spots and stripes of a paca, a rodent somewhat bigger than a rabbit. The Indians hunted them for food. Ben had eaten them more than once, liking their porklike taste. Pacas liked to make their homes on riverbanks, so it wasn’t unusual for it to be there. He wouldn’t have seen it at all if it hadn’t moved. The meat would make a welcome change in their diet, but he didn’t shoot. They still had food; he would hunt only when it ran out.
Just to be certain, he took the time to look over the area again, but the birds were flitting about undisturbed, so he returned his attention to Jillian.
She had her head tilted back, rinsing her hair. He watched every move she made, intently focusing on the lines of her body, the graceful economy of her movements. After a few minutes his eyes actually began to ache from the effort of trying to pierce the blurring veil of water, but he didn’t look away. He’d never felt so damn hungry in his life, desperate for any small glimpse of her, the way a starving man pined for the tiniest scrap of food. He couldn’t help resenting it, because no woman had ever had that much power over him before. If one turned him down, there were always others who were willing. But now there were no others, and he had the sinking feeling that it wouldn’t do him any good if there were. He wanted Jillian, and no one else would do. He hadn’t even gone back to Théresa’s bed the night he’d first met Jillian; he hadn’t thought much about it then, because he’d just spent the afternoon screwing, but looking back, he decided it was a bad sign. Normally he would have returned to Theresa’s apartment and crawled on top of her again. Instead, he had gone to his own place and brooded over the possibilities of what he’d just gotten himself into.
Up until now he’d been enjoying the game, absolutely sure that he’d have her eventually. The chase was part of the fun, and Jillian was so elusive she challenged every male instinct in him. He wasn’t feeling so lighthearted now. His determination had a grim edge to it, and that was what he didn’t like. If for some reason—God, even the idea was unthinkable—he didn’t eventually have her naked beneath him, he would feel seriously deprived. That deprivation would change him somehow, make his life less complete. For the first time, he felt no other woman could make up for the loss of this one.
No, he didn’t like that possibility worth a damn. Thinking about it made him feel helpless, something he wasn’t familiar with and tried to thrust away.
She had finished bathing and emerged from behind the waterfall with that damn towel wrapped around her again, her heavy dark hair sleeked back like an otter’s coat, her bare shoulders gleaming wetly in the reddish glow of the setting sun. She didn’t even look at him as she picked up her dirty clothes and disappeared back behind the waterfall.
She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He knew it, he’d seen it in her eyes when she watched him bathing. So how could she just shrug her desire away like that? She hadn’t even glanced at him to get his reaction to her maddening maneuvers. She was one cool customer, so cool that he just might have met his match. The thought gave him a panicky feeling, because that meant his chances of having her were only fifty-fifty, and he wasn’t comfortable with that. Ninety-ten would be better; no, hell, why give her any chance at all? He wanted to be one hundred percent certain that she’d be his. Anything less was unacceptable.
Laundry done, Jillian emerged again from behind the waterfall and
walked to her pile of clean clothes. He wondered if she could manage to dress with the same now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t technique she had used undressing. Watching her, he discovered that she could. How did women learn to do that? It was aggravating, that was for sure.
Feeling smugly satisfied with herself, Jillian sat down to put on her boots, and only then did she look over her shoulder at him. “I’m finished. Are you ready to go?”
He wasn’t, but the light was fading fast and they had to get back to the camp. He moved lithely down the bank and across the rocks until he reached her side. “You’re a little smart ass, you know that?”
“Oh?” Her green eyes were wide and innocent. “Why is that?”
“Don’t give me that wide-eyed look.” His own eyes were curiously grim as he put his hand on the small of her back.
“C’mon, we have to get back; it’s almost dark. I hope Pepe’s saved us something to eat.”
They gathered up their bundles of wet clothes, and Jillian made certain that her pistol was tucked out of sight. She was a little puzzled. Something about Ben had changed, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He just seemed . . . different.
They climbed out of the ravine and made their way back to the camp. When they walked into the circle of light, Jillian was struck by the rather exaggerated nonchalance of Kates and Rick, while Dutra was even more sullen than usual. Probably Dutra had wanted to spy on her but Kates wouldn’t let him, not wanting to bring Ben down on them while they were trying to decipher the coded instructions. None of the others seemed to have noticed anything, but Kates was slick enough to have grabbed the map without drawing attention to himself.
From the sly glances that everyone gave her and Ben, she knew what they thought, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Ben had gone out of his way to make certain everyone believed they were having an affair; it would have been a waste of time to deny it, even had she been so inclined. She wasn’t so silly that she would throw away the bit of protection he had given her.