by JoAnn Ross
“Were you watching me all that time?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I like looking at you, Kate. And, after all this time apart, any man would enjoy the appealing sight of his wife back in his bed.”
“We really need to talk about that, Alec.” Since her head was clearer, K.J. decided to just come straight to the point.
“We can talk about all that later,” he said, brushing her carefully spoken words away with a flick of a dark hand, as if they were a pesky fly he didn’t want to bother with. “I imagine, after your travels, you might like to take a shower before dinner.”
“A shower?” It sounded like heaven. Even better than the nap. Although the idea of taking off her clothes anywhere around Alec was a little disconcerting.
“While it’s not exactly the Las Vegas Whitfield Palace, your Chez Mackenzie jungle accommodations also come with a shower. Of sorts.”
“A shower,” she repeated. She’d begun to fear that that little plumbing feature she so took for granted back home didn’t exist anywhere in the jungle. Not even his mention of the hotel where they’d spent their one-night honeymoon could dampen her enthusiasm. “I think I love you.” The words slipped out before she could censor them or call them back.
“Love’s always a plus,” he said, “in a marriage.” From his mild tone he seemed suspiciously oblivious to the instant look of regret on her face about her verbal slip. “And in the interest of full disclosure, I suppose this is where I admit that the shower room isn’t exactly attached to the hut. Actually, it’s next to the privy.”
“The privy.” K.J. swore that when she returned to the States, she’d never take a flush toilet for granted again.
“You can’t miss it. It’s a six-holer, which makes it bigger than the average campsite one you’re probably used to.”
K.J. decided this was not the time to tell him that she hadn’t been camping since she was nine years old and had gone to live with her grandmother, who considered sleeping on the ground and cooking meals over a campfire uncivilized. And Helen Campbell was nothing if not civilized.
Well, there had been that horse camp in Newport she’d talked her grandmother into letting her attend the summer she turned twelve. But K.J. doubted that really counted as camping, since all the little equestrians had slept on cotton sheets as smooth as silk, and meals had been catered from a local resort.
His description belatedly sunk in. “A six-holer? Are you saying the privy’s communal?”
“Sure.”
She closed her eyes, praying for patience. “Please tell me it’s not unisex.”
“Actually, it is.” He waited a beat, feeling a faint prick of guilt at her weak moan of distress. “Usually. But because everyone understands that being from the outside world, you’re not quite used to such familiarity, they’re willing to make that one ladies only.”
- Well, at least that was something, K.J. thought, reminding herself that it was still better than hiding behind a tree the way she’d had to do during the trip downriver.
“And the ladies have also agreed, for now, to keep it to one visitor at a time.”
“Thank you.” This time it was K.J. who instigated a brief kiss. It was little more than a brush of lips against lips, but still packed one helluva punch. “For the privacy. And the shower. After the past few days, I think I’d surrender my soul for a chance to wash my hair.”
“I doubt if you’ll have to go that far,” he said easily, as he linked their fingers together and led her back out the door. “I′m willing to settle for your heart.”
Her heart. As she felt it turn flips at the light touch of his hand on her shoulder, K.J. feared that she’d never really gotten it back when she’d left Las Vegas last year.
After demonstrating how to operate the shower, which, he explained, was attached to an oil drum filled with rainwater, Alec left K.J. alone with her guilt.
“It’s not as if I haven’t been straight with him,” she muttered as she lathered herbal shampoo through her hair for the first time in days. “I told him that I wanted a divorce.”
Sure, you tell him that, her internal scold agreed scornfully. Then you turn to jelly whenever he so much as looks at you. And in case you didn’t think I saw it, it was you who initiated that last kiss.
“It was a spontaneous gesture of gratitude.”
You didn’t kiss the plumber who fixed your stopped-up sink last month, the nagging little voice reminded her. Or the waiter at that Greek restaurant who flirted with you, then gave you the complimentary order of rice pudding to take home. Or the bus driver who waited for you to run to the stop—
“The bus driver was a woman.”
That’s a moot point. And don’t try to sidetrack me, because it won’t work, Katherine Jeanne Campbell. Don’t forget, I’ve known you since before you were born. In fact, I was already well established in your genetic makeup while you were still splitting cells.
“Then how come you kept quiet for so many years?”
In the beginning, your foolish parents’ voices spoke louder than mine, so you couldn’t hear me. Later, you had your grandmother to keep you in line Now, like it or not, I’m all you’ve got. And I can tell when you’re lying to yourself.
“I’m not lying.” Not really, she assured herself.
You’re not being entirely honest, either. You want the man, the same way you wanted him that night I warned you about what happens to women who let themselves get picked up by men in bars.
“It wasn’t a bar. Lancelot’s Lounge was a very respectable cocktail lounge in one of the finest hotels in the country,” she argued.
Whatever. The point is that wine he plied you with obviously made you weak. And vulnerable.
“No.” K.J. stood beneath the stream of water and rinsed the fragrant suds from her hair. “Alec was the one who made me weak. The wine didn’t have anything to do with it. Besides, I only had a single glass of merlot.” She hadn’t needed alcohol to make her feel as high as a kite.
And now, after only a few hours together, he’s having the same effect on you.
“Unfortunately, that seems to be true.” K.J. tilted her head back, enjoying the sensual feel of the water sluicing over her body. When she imagined it was Alec’s hands creating such physical bliss, she was shaken by the surge of what could only be described as primal lust.
“But would that be so bad?” she asked rhetorically. “Having a fling with him? After all, we are married. Technically.”
Women don’t have flings with their husbands. The voice was as stern as her grandmother’s had been that first summer, when K.J. had tried to gain favor by weeding the estate’s garden and had pulled out the newly sprouted perennials instead.
“If that’s true, then it may explain the divorce rate.”
Although she could have let the needles of water pound out the tension in her body for the rest of the night, K.J. turned off the faucet, concerned about using up all his water, then took down a towel from a nearby bamboo shelf and wrapped it around her.
“We’re both adults.” She continued the rhetorical argument, wondering who she was trying harder to convince—that nagging little scold in the back of her mind, or herself. “And, as Alec keeps insisting on pointing out, we are married—”
Technically, the voice piped up, throwing her own word back at her. You haven’t lived a single full day as husband and wife.
“True.” And K.J. knew that years from now, when she was an old woman looking back at her life, that would be one of her biggest regrets.
But although she might not have a working model of marriage to emulate, she did know that it took two people to make a home. And by taking off the day after their wedding, he’d shown himself to have scant interest in either a home or family.
Not wanting to dilute her argument with emotion, K.J. refused to admit exactly how much like her father Alec was. Although in her parents’ case, her mother hadn’t hesitated to leave the security of h
er job and follow her husband around the world.
And look how that turned out.
“I really hate it when you read my mind,” K.J grumbled.
I am your mind, the voice countered.
Belatedly realizing that she hadn’t brought any fresh clothing out to the shower hut with her, K.J. dressed again in the rumpled T-shirt and slacks, forgoing her sweaty underwear. For the first time since her fourteenth birthday, she was grateful that Mother Nature hadn’t been all that generous when gifting her with breasts. Hopefully, Alec wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Perhaps we could give it a second try,” she considered, returning to the subject of her and Alec’s marriage. After all, they’d both lost their tempers that morning. And they were both hardheaded, strongwilled individuals, each unwilling to concede defeat. Perhaps, if they could at least try to put that horrid argument behind them . . .
Are you actually saying that you’re willing to give up all the creature comforts of the city and move into a little grass shack with that man?
“No. I’m saying that I’m willing to spend a few days—and nights—with him.” Very sexy nights.
Surely you’re not considering stooping to using sex to seduce him into giving in to you?
“Of course I’m not,” K.J. said. “That would be too much like prostitution. Even though we have a marriage license.” Signed by a man dressed in royal blue velvet robes with silver lamé stars sewn all over it. “Besides, I wouldn’t know how to seduce a man.”
Indeed, that night, although she hadn’t been a virgin, K.J. had worried that she wouldn’t be able to sexually satisfy Alec. But if his body hadn’t lied—and she certainly didn’t see how it could have faked such response—she′d amazed herself by living up to the sensual challenge.
“I won’t push things,” she decided. “I’ll just let nature take its course. Then, after we get rid of all this sexual tension, Alec will undoubtedly be more amenable to the idea of returning to New York for the auction.”
Although I hate to give him credit for anything, I honestly can’t see Alec Mackenzie displaying himself in front of a roomful of man-hungry women.
“It won’t last long. And it’s for a good cause.”
Well, good luck, the scold said sarcastically. Because believe me, Katherine Jeanne, you’re definitely going to need all you can get.
Although she feared the annoying little nag was right, as she left the shower hut, K.J. wished that one of them felt just a bit more optimistic.
9
THE FIRST THING K.J. noticed when she returned to the hut was that Alec was still there, sitting at the table, his attention on the screen of the laptop computer, which he’d hooked up to a car battery. The second thing was the enticing aroma that filled the compact room.
“Is that dinner I smell?”
“Yeah.” He glanced up. “I figured you might not be up to eating with everyone in the communal dining lodge after your long trip, so I rounded up a light meal for you.”
“It doesn’t include termites, does it?”
“Damn.” He slapped his forehead. “Did you want a side of termites?” He pushed back from the table and stood up. “If you’ll just wait a minute, I’ll go out to that mound at the edge of the village and—”
“No!” She caught his arm as he was about to pass her on the way to the door. “I don’t really want any termites.”
“Okay. How about some beetles? They’re a little crunchy, but there’s nothing tastier than a deep-fried borer beetle dipped in hot sauce.”
He was kidding, K.J. assured herself. Surely he didn’t actually expect her to eat insects? She couldn’t help wondering if her mother had ever been forced to such extremes on similar excursions.
“They sound delicious,” she said with a false smile. Just in case this was a test, K.J. was determined to pass. “However, I’m really not all that hungry, and fried food is so filling. And fattening.”
“Whatever you say. Though a few more pounds wouldn’t hurt.”
Even as she reminded herself that continuing to spar with a man was not exactly the way to win him over, K.J. splayed her hands on her hips. “Are you calling me skinny?”
He cocked his head and studied her, his piercing, cool eyes treating her to an unnervingly long, slow appraisal that began at her freshly washed hair, which she could feel curling into unruly springs, down to her feet, which were clad in a very unsexy pair of hiking boots that the man in the outfitters store had assured her she’d need to protect her feet from all sorts of unsavory-sounding things animal, vegetable and mineral.
Seconds ticked by as those cool gray eyes returned to her face. “Well, you may have gotten a little scrawny—”
“Scrawny?”
“But you definitely still have curves in all the right places,” he said encouragingly.
“I’m so pleased you approve.” K.J. knew that compared to Sonia, the voluptuous, sloe-eyed barmaid, she’d definitely come out on the short end of the stick. Even worse. There was no comparison.
“Still, a little more meat on your bones wouldn’t hurt all that much.” When his eyes drifted back to her breasts, K.J. had to fight the ridiculous impulse to arch her spine to give them a bit more thrust. “You’ve lost weight, Kate.”
“I have not.” What on earth was the matter with her? How was she going to get him to agree to a divorce if she kept arguing with everything he said?
Alec ignored her crisp denial. He just kept looking straight at her unfettered breasts and, although there wasn’t a sign of lust in the judicious study, that didn’t stop her traitorous nipples from hardening.
Refusing to cover herself with her arms, she stood there, still as a fence post, letting him look all he wanted, appearing as cool as the sensible adult woman she was, all the while wondering desperately if he could see the way those tingling nipples were pushing against the cotton of her T-shirt.
Alec could. And as his fingers itched to touch, he felt a similar tightening in his loins. “I’d say ten, maybe even fifteen pounds,” he guessed, using those itchy fingers to rub his stubbled chin to prevent them from doing something rash.
“Obviously your memory’s faulty.” She lifted her chin in a way that would have put them eye-to-eye if his hadn’t been moving with aching slowness back down her body.
“Nah. I have an eidetic memory. I remember everything.” He paused a significant heartbeat. “Absolutely everything.”
That wicked warrior’s gaze lingered significantly at the juncture of her thighs in a way that had her vividly recalling well how much time he’d spent down there. Apparently, K.J. thought, biting back a moan with fierce determination, he wasn’t the only one with a photographic memory. The way Alec was looking at her, along with the raw huskiness in his voice, caused moisture to pool thickly in that secret place.
She struggled gamely for control. “I may have lost a couple pounds.” More like twelve, but she certainly wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how close he’d come. “But women’s weights fluctuate all the time—we all have closets filled with different clothes for our fat and skinny days—so it doesn’t really mean anything.”
No way was she going to admit that she’d been miserable ever since that horrid morning. Wanting to drive him out of her mind, she’d thrown herself into her work, stopping only when absolutely necessary for food or sleep.
Sleep tormented with vivid, hot, sexual dreams that left her sheets tangled and her body aching with unsatisfied hungers that had nothing to do with food. Needless to say, Alec had starred in every one of those dreams.
Her insistence that her obvious weight loss was nothing more than normal female monthly changes had Alec wondering what would have happened if he’d gotten her pregnant that night. Although they’d used protection—well, almost every time, he amended, thinking of that last time in the shower, when they’d not only risked parenthood, but drowning as well—no birth-control method was onehundred-percent effective.
At the time, he’d had no desire to father a child. But strangely now, picturing Kate ripe and round with his baby was proving eminently appealing.
“That’s probably it,” he agreed finally, deciding to let her off the hook. For now. After all, he didn’t want to push her so far she’d feel the need to run away. “And you don’t have to worry. As I said, the dinner’s substantial enough to fill you up, but light enough not to keep you from sleeping.”
It was also delicious, she discovered as she devoured the steamed corn tortillas, tender chicken and what she’d already learned was the staple of the Amazonian diet, manioc, a tuberous root that when cooked tasted a lot like sweetened tapioca.
“I can’t believe I ate all that,” she said, staring’ in wonder at her empty plate. She’d polished it off like some long-haul trucker.
“Well, at least now I don’t have to worry that you’ve become anorexic in the past eleven-and-a-half months.”
She didn’t like discussing her body with Alec. Not that she really cared what he thought of her.
Liar.
“Shut up,” she muttered back at her scold. “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
K.J. hadn’t even realized that she’d spoken out loud until Alec arched one dark brow.
“Oh, damn.” She covered her face with her hands and waited for some smart-ass reply. When none was forthcoming, when the silence stretched so tightly between them she thought her nerves were going to snap, she spread her fingers and peeked up at him. “I suppose you’re going to want an explanation.”
A corner of his mouth twitched, making K.J. think that if he dared laugh at her, she’d have to slug him. Or cry. Or perhaps she might do both.
“Only if that less-than-cordial statement was directed at me,” he said mildly.
“It wasn’t.” She lowered her arms to the table with a long weary sigh. “You’re going to think I’m crazy—”
“I already know you are.”
“But...” Embarrassed as she was, it took a moment for his quiet words to sink in. When they did, she stopped and stared at him. “What did you say?”
