by Cherry Adair
She had to keep her focus when she went back. She wanted every moment of the doctors’ struggle documented for the articles she’d write about what a helluva guy the president of Mallaruza was. This was important work. Not to mention she had a lot to prove to her peers back home. She might be on the other side of the world, but since she’d been fired from Wexler, Cross, and Dawson a year ago, she had the feeling that people in the small PR community were watching her every move. And just waiting to see her fall flat on her face. Again.
She didn’t doubt that she was good at what she did, but she had an unfortunate history, and people had long memories.
Kess took this presidential campaign seriously. Abioyne Bongani was a great man, doing incredible things for his country and his people. But this was Africa, where the good stuff went completely unnoticed by the rest of the world. Her well-placed articles and photographs would change all that. By the time she was finished, she’d make sure the world noticed.
“Downstairs? Three?” the president’s friend said, verbally snapping his fingers under her nose to bring back her attention.
As if she were a toddler with the memory span of a newt. Considering what tangent she’d just been on, it wasn’t exactly unjustified, she admitted. “Bring sunblock, it’s hotter than the hobs of hell out there and not a lot of shade.”
Kess turned on her heel and strode off down the corridor, not looking back. She kept her footsteps at a reasonable walking speed, and her back straight. But she could feel Simon’s eyes on her every step of the way.
The only plus side was that she couldn’t imagine a guy like him being attracted to a woman like her. Which, while an excellent deterrent to any inappropriate lusting on her part, was quite disappointing. She wondered if she could change his mind.
Kess grinned as she got into the antiquated elevator that joltingly carried her, and several other people, to the lobby. The president’s friend might be just the antidote she needed to forget Atlanta for a few weeks.
The next few days would be interesting. Her heart took up a little Snoopy dance in anticipation as she crossed the enormous marble lobby, put on her sunglasses, and exited into the brilliant African sun.
Two
February on the plains of Western Africa was the season of “short rains.” So while the dirt roads crisscrossing the vast savanna kicked up a plume of red dust behind Kess’s Range Rover, the short grasses on either side were lush and green. Beyond the horizon on her left was the narrow, low-lying coastal area, to her right, and several hundred miles away, the start of the Huren rain forest.
The African prairie was dangerously beautiful. Teeming with wildlife, gently rolling hills made a bumpy green carpet as far as the eye could see. In the distance a herd of several hundred wildebeest ran parallel as the vehicle got closer. Kess almost stopped to dig out her camera when she passed a lone elephant. Its large ears flapped lazily at flies as it stood beneath the thorny branches of an acacia. While an elephant could run about twenty-five miles an hour, and was considered dangerous, this one-tusked old boy looked content to laze away the afternoon right where he was. Thank God.
Out-of-sight lions, cheetahs, and other dangerous predators stayed somewhere shady until it was time to come out and hunt at dusk. By then, Kess knew, she’d be in camp. Still, her gun was conveniently placed on the passenger seat beside her. Just in case.
She’d never even held a gun before she’d arrived here a couple of months ago. She’d gladly accepted the bulky handgun the president’s aide, Chizobi, had given her on arrival. She’d been practicing shooting the thing ever since, getting lessons from anyone who volunteered as she traveled from village to village with the doctors. Carrying a gun was the norm here, and being able to shoot accurately made sense. Especially when she was close to the Huren border, and the Hureni were scary, to say the least.
Kess enjoyed adding to her skill sets. But here in Africa being able to shoot accurately was a necessity, rather than just a cool new hobby. Traveling alone wasn’t optimal for safety. And while she was a pretty good shot, and it was broad daylight, she wanted to get to the safety of camp long before dusk. It was probably a stupid move on her part to leave without the president’s friend. Two people traveling was always safer. But she had no idea if he knew how to use a gun, and frankly she hadn’t wanted to spend four hours in the close confines of a car with a man who made her hormone level, not to mention her blood pressure, rise. It was hot enough.
He’d get to the camp eventually, and by then she’d be too busy to be bothered by him.
If she opted for speed, which she did, then she had to lose comfort, since the old Range Rover couldn’t support speed and the air conditioner. Despite the swirling dust, she had the windows open. Hot wind stung her cheeks, and the dry air made her dig one-handed into the cooler. She grabbed a cold bottle of water, drinking as she drove. God, it was beautiful here. Stark, dangerous, and thrilling. Animals she knew from the zoo or National Geographic roamed freely all around her. Amazing.
How long had Simon waited for her outside the city building? Not long, she bet. He didn’t look like the kind of guy to wait for anyone. On any level. Fine with her. He’d have his say in—she glanced at the inexpensive, utilitarian Timex on her wrist, trying to figure out from what time she’d left to his estimated time of arrival. “At dinnertime. Good thing the docs have antacid tablets,” she said out loud, amused. “One of us is probably going to need them.”
After meeting with the president she’d returned to the small residential hotel where she was living for the year she was contracted to spend here. She’d showered at warp speed. A change of clothes had made her feel female again. After repacking her duffel with fresh clothing and toiletries, she’d grabbed a twelve-pack of water from the small fridge on the rickety table crammed into a corner. She was ready and out the door in record time.
Simon-what’s-his-face could hitch a ride to camp with the relief team. Really, Kess thought, pressing her foot on the accelerator a little harder, a four-hour drive with that man would be unendurable. It would be hard to maintain a cool, professional façade when all she wanted to do was jump his—“Never mind!”
He might be mildly irritated that he had to hang around for another few hours, but so what? She bit her lip. “Telling him I was leaving earlier would have been common courtesy, I suppose. Well, sure. But it’s not as if I left the man at the alta—Oh, shit. What’s that?” The vehicle was gasping like an asthmatic.
“No. No. No.” Kess patted the dash. “Come on, baby. You can do it. Don’t strand me out here in the middle of nowhere. Look. We’ll go slower, all right? See? Foot off the accelerator.” The car slowed to a painful, jerky crawl.
“Damn. Damn. Damn.”
The supply trucks hadn’t even left the capital yet. She was going to be stuck here, in the middle of nothing but sky and grass, for at least three more hours.
“No bad deed goes unpunished,” she said wryly, babying the car along at barely a creep, her knuckles white on the plastic steering wheel as she willed the Rover to keep moving forward.
Her heart skipped a few nervous beats. She was out here in the worst heat of the day, and while most of the truly dangerous animals were smart enough to be somewhere relatively cool, that didn’t mean her presence wouldn’t annoy any of the ones lurking about.
“Good car. Good, good car. I knew you could go a little farther.” She stroked the dash again. “No need to panic,” she told herself firmly. “I’m in a car. Animals can’t chew through steel. I have a cooler. Water. Snacks. Three hours isn’t a lifetime.” Putting both hands back on the wheel, she concentrated on willing the car to keep moving.
There was only this one road leading north. The supply trucks would have to pass her. Eventually.
There was a dark blob on the road in the heat haze in the distance. An elephant? A wildebeest? Kess didn’t want to risk going off into the grass to go around it.
“Move, little beastie.” It was quite a way in fron
t of her crawling, coughing vehicle. The Rover was making so much racket that any intelligent animal would be long gone before she was anywhere near it. She hoped.
Even traveling this slowly, a collision with an elephant was going to be extremely unpleasant. For both the animal and herself. Loath as she was to do it, Kess let her foot hover over the brake.
But as she crept closer she saw it wasn’t an animal, but another bulky Range Rover. She breathed a huge sigh of relief. Fortunately, going at the speed of an amoeba there was no dust, just the blistering hot air on her sweaty face. Squinting against the bright sunlight reflecting off the grille, she realized there was a man leaning insouciantly against the back of the vehicle, ankles crossed, fingertips stuck in the front pocket of his jeans.
“Impossible,” Kess muttered under her breath. “No way! No freaking way.” The lone man was Simon What’shisname. He did not look happy as his dark hair ruffled in the breeze and the sun beat down on his unprotected head. Kess could almost see steam coming out of his ears. The thought cheered her no end. At least then there’d be some humidity in the parched air. She pressed down on the brake and the car sputtered to a stop three feet from his knees.
She was a rebel without a pause.
“Hey,” she said cheerfully, getting out of the car, but keeping the door between them. “Fancy meeting you here.”
The sun struck his eyes, making the pupils aneerie translucent green. He smiled at her. Kess noticed his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Forget we had a date, Katherine?”
She blew out an aggravated breath. “My name,” she told him coolly, “is Kess, and it wasn’t a date per se. I knew the supply guys would give you a lift.” Said supply guys being nowhere in sight.
“Clearly that isn’t the case.” He took his elegant hand out of his pocket. “I imagine they’re several hours thataway.” He indicated the way she’d come. “And how does one get ‘Kess’ from Katherine? I thought it was a pet name Abi had for you.”
“Katie Scarlett. Middle school. Bloodied noses until I was called K.S. Eventually K.S. morphed into Kess.” She shrugged. “How’d you get here so fast?” He hadn’t passed her, and for the last hundred miles this dirt was the only road north. She scanned the side of his car. The right side was dinged, and recently. The grassy dirt embedded in the crushed metal looked fresh.
His look burned her with jade fire as his gaze slid slowly over her, as if calculating the texture of her hair, the taste of her skin, and measuring her breasts for the way they’d fit his hands. Whoa! A flush that had nothing to do with embarrassment rode her cheeks as his lashes dropped and he ran his eyes like a physical touch up her legs. Wondering what they’d feel like wrapped around his hips in the throes of pleasure?
Or: Simon was staring at her hair and thinking it a too-bright mess, or admiring her cool new Asolo Stynger GTX bright orange hiking boots.
Amused at her own unlikely tangent, Kess jerked her chin toward his vehicle. “What happened? Run into an angry female buffalo?”
“A wily redheaded fox.”
“No, really. Were you in an accident? What happened?”
“It fell.” His expression gave nothing away. He’d make a good poker player.
Kess, who knew she’d make a shitty poker player because everything she thought was right there on her face like a freaking movie screen, frowned. “Fell?” As far as the eye could see were gently rolling hills. “Off what?”
“Never mind. Ready to go?”
“Go where exactly?”
“The village? Wasn’t that your destination?”
“Does your car run?” Wouldn’t that just be the straw on Kess’s back having both of them break down in exactly the same freaking spot in the middle of freaking nowhere?
“My Rover is in perfect shape. Except for the dent.” He paused long enough for his eyes to leisurely traverse each one of her less than stellar curves. Again. And it was not her imagination that his eyes flared. “Need help with your bags?” he asked conversationally.
Kess lowered her head, making a production out of adjusting her cap to block the sun’s rays. She felt flushed and was fairly certain she was blushing for the first time since Trevor Mulligan had tried tongue kissing her in front of the whole third-grade class. “I’ll get it, thanks.”
“Fine, I’ll get the air cranked up. You look hot.”
Not hot like “So hot I’d like to strip you nekked and have my wicked way with you right here in this cool-looking green grass.” No. The “You’re so sweaty—keep away from me!” kind of hot. She opened her mouth to make a pithy comment, then snapped it shut.
Three days tops, Kess told herself, hauling out her backpack and the cooler. She stuffed the gun into the pack and zipped it closed. “Should I lock the car?” she shouted. His laugh made something inside her twinkle. “Oh, shut up,” she told herself firmly, trudging to his car. Putting down the cooler, she jerked open the back door and tossed in her pack, picked up the cooler, and shoved that onto the floor after it.
“Why are you laughing?” she asked, getting into the car and slamming the door. The cold air felt so good on her hot skin she almost purred.
“We’re close enough to the border for the Hureni to walk down the road and steal everything off that car until not even a spark plug is left. Think locking it will slow them down any?” He accelerated and they pulled away from her vehicle, leaving it there on the side of the road. He was right. The second the Hureni discovered the car it would be stripped down to an oil slick. But how did he know that? Hadn’t he just arrived here?
Sharply aware of him, Kess turned the vent so icy air hit her face. “Probably not.” She shivered. God, it felt great to be cool for a change. Being in such close proximity to the president’s friend made her almost unbearably aware of him, which in turn made her hot. Not cold.
Squinting, she moved the sun visor to the side to block the sun from her face and give her hands something better to do than lean over and grab him. Lord, he smelled good. Clean sweat and a hint of something oceany. She changed her depth perception to make him hazy and the background clear. That worked. Sort of. “How long have you known Mr. Bongani?”
“College. Off and on since.”
She found herself staring at his hands on the steering wheel. He had very elegant hands. Big. Strong. His long, tanned fingers crisscrossed by dozens of small, white scars. She imagined those large hands cupping her breasts, and her nipples ached. Redirecting the blast of cold air to mask the obvious peak of her nipples, Kess said casually, “Just here for a visit?”
Simon slanted his gaze over at her. “Why? Do you have to vet all Abi’s friends?”
“No. But he’s an important man, and the elections are in a few days. I don’t want anything to upset him right now.”
“And you think I’ll ‘upset’ him?”
You upset me. Fighting for composure, Kess said briskly, “Of course not. I was just curious as to why you’re here.” This was ridiculous, she told herself firmly, trying to ignore her very female reaction to his maleness. He drove with a relaxed ease, one-handed, even though they were going almost ninety.
“I’m a friend. Someone the president knows and trusts. He invited me. Is that enough intel for you?”
Intel? Alarm bells went off in Kess’s head. Oh, shit! “Are you in the army? Oh, my God. Is he going to declare war on Huren? Is that why you’re here? Are you one of those guys the US sends in to plan attack strategies?” Shitshitshit. Why now, so close to the election?
“Jesus, woman. Do you even need an audience or can you conduct this wild-hair monologue without stopping for a breath so I can comment?”
Well, yeah. Her mind did have a tendency to race forward, running possible scenarios before she had all the facts. It was a good and bad trait in a publicist. Expect the best but plan for the worst. But still…“Just answer me honestly. Because if that is why you’re here I have to go back and talk to the president about how we’re going to handle the press.” She hauled
her backpack from the floor in back onto her lap, unzipped it, pushed aside the Browning, and started rummaging through the cavernous depths for a notepad and pen.
“Write this down, it’s important.”
Kess chewed the corner of her lip, and placed the tip of the pen on the first line, then cast him a quick glance. “Ready.”
“Simon Blackthorne—That’s BLACKTHORNE with an e—is in Mallaruza visiting his friend Abioyne Bongani, President of Mallaruza, for a little R and R, beach time, reading time, and a little sightseeing thrown in to keep the mix interesting. You’re not writing.”
“Funny.” She stuffed the pad and pen back into the bag, then tossed it with a thunk onto the floor behind his seat. “Fine. You’re on vacation. Here. Where there could be a bloodbath with Mr. Bongani’s detractors any minute, where some weird but virulent virus slash disease that scares the crap out of me is killing thousands of people a day. Where the temperature is a hundred in the shade, and the beach is littered with jellyfish. Yeah. I see why a man like you would pick Mallaruza as a prime vacation spot.”
“You talk a lot, don’t you?”
“Well, you have to admit—”
He shoved a CD into the player and Maroon Five belted out “Highway to Hell.” Rude, but appropriate, Kess thought, sliding her spine down into the comfortable leather seat and readjusting the cold air vent. She closed her eyes.
“Don’t go to sleep. I need directions.”
She snorted. What’s the bet he’d Mapquested the route, got a GPS satellite reading, and called freaking OnStar before he’d set out. “Straight on until morning.”
“I’m no Peter Pan, believe me.”
“Hmm.” The sun was baking her cheek. Without opening her eyes, Kess reached up to adjust the visor. Her hand encountered Simon’s on the same mission.
Simon told himself not to touch her a nanosecond too late. Their fingers brushed, then seemed to fuse and remain still. Her skin was smooth, warm, and vibrantly female.
