by JoAnn Ross
“I said, I already know you’re nuts. Only a crazy woman would leave a comfortable world of trendy restaurants, theaters and art galleries to ride down the Amazon during the rainy season, fight off clouds of mosquitoes and biting flies and eat roots and caiman.self
“I didn’t have all that much of a choice, if I wanted... Eat what?”
“Caiman. It’s a local species of alligator.”
“Alligator?” Her eyes dropped to her empty plate. “I thought it was chicken.”
He shrugged. “You know what they say—”
“That’s frog legs that supposedly taste like chicken,” she said, finishing his expected comment.
“Well then, if it helps, just think of your dinner as having been frog legs.”
“I’ve never liked frog legs.”
“But you liked the caiman. So, see, you’re undoubtedly more adventurous than you thought.”
Because his smiling eyes held genuine affection, K.J. smiled back. Just a little. “And crazy.” Like her mother, she thought. And her father.
Seeing her father’s photographs again after all these years had K.J. remembering, albeit sketchily, those adventurous days when she’d been home-schooled and the entire world had served as both home and school. When she’d arrived at the Campbell estate, Helen Campbell had locked her granddaughter’s spirit away into a box, shut the lid and sealed it down tight.
Emotions were dangerous, her grandmother had constantly told her. They weakened propriety, undermined common sense; they made people do foolish things, like risking their lives on glaciated mountaintops and orphaning their child. K.J. had done her best to believe all that. She’d truly tried to keep her feelings stuffed inside that tightly sealed box.
But then she’d met Alec, who’d instantly broken that seal, and once the lid was open, her spirit, and all her emotions, including passions K.J. had never suspected she possessed, had burst free. And now she was beginning to understand the lesson Pandora had learned. That once freed, there could be no locking them away again.
“I suppose it’s lucky for both of us that crazy people are my favorite kind,” Alec said with a smile that warmed all the cockles of her heart.
This time the silence that settled over them wasn’t at all unnerving. In fact, it was actually comfortable, causing K.J. to wonder, yet again, perhaps, if she and Alec both were willing to take the time to get to know one another...
You don’t have that much time. Not if you’re going to get the man on the auction block.
K.J. hated it when her scold was right.
She studied her hands for a long, silent moment, trying to choose her words carefully, which was difficult when her brain was flooded with so many hormones it was all she could do not to leap on the man.
Finally, she lifted her gaze to his patiently waiting one. “I have this...uh, voice,” she began slowly, tentatively. She’d never told anyone about the nag. It was too personal. She’d also feared that if she had admitted to hearing voices, she’d end up in a padded room. “In my head.”
“Only one?”
His casual tone had her staring at him. “Isn’t that enough? I mean, I don’t really have any desire to play the starring role in an Amazonian little theater production of All About Eve.“
“Sounds normal enough to me.”
She looked at him harder, seeking the joke at her expense. When she couldn’t see it, she decided to go for broke. “That’s not all. I talk back to this voice. Sometimes out loud.”
Great tactic. Talk about running the guy off. Of course, it could work to your benefit. Now that he knows about us, he’ll rush to sign the divorce papers.
Shut up, she said again, this time managing to keep her response in her head.
“Hey, makes sense to me,” Alec said. “Sometimes hearing your thoughts out loud helps clarify things. Especially when you need a sounding board.”
“You’re not listening, Alec.” For some reason she wasn’t about to try to figure out, it was imperative that he understand exactly what type of crazy woman he was dealing with. “I don’t use the voice as some sort of sounding board. Just the opposite. It’s a horribly negative, pessimistic scold who’s constantly nagging at me. I don’t like it, I don’t like its stupidly rigid advice, and most of the time I end up arguing with it.”
“What about the other times?”
“What other times?”
“You said most of the time you argue with it. What about those other times?”
“Oh. Then I just shut it off and refuse to listen.”
“Again, that sounds perfectly reasonable to me.” He studied her silently for a moment. “So, what did it say that night? About me?”
“That I’d be crazy to run off with you.”
“But you ignored it.”
It was not a question, but K.J. answered it anyway. “Yes. I did.”
Again, he didn’t answer immediately. Just looked at her with those shrewd gray eyes she suspected never missed a thing.
“I’m glad. Because whatever happens between us, I wouldn’t trade that night for anything.”
Her eyes stung with traitorous tears, but she was too stubborn to allow a single one to fall. “About that...”
Remember, you can’t afford to antagonize him.
Once again, she and the scold were in perfect agreement. K.J. swallowed past the lump in her throat, but the words wouldn’t come.
All she could do was stare at him, at his shaggy black hair her fingers yearned to comb their way through, at the hard-planed warrior’s face she wanted to frame between her palms, at his body—all hard muscle and sinewy strength that she wanted to feel against hers. On top of hers. Inside her.
Hell. The way she was looking at him, the gilded invitation her remarkable eyes were handing him, was all it took to make Alec hard. The steamy air had suddenly turned hot enough to set it boiling around them.
Didn’t she realize how vulnerable she was? Alec thought furiously. Didn’t she understand that she could stubbornly claim that their marriage was a mistake until doomsday, but if he wanted to drag her out of that chair, throw her onto the hammock—or the dirt floor, for that matter—and take her hard and fast and rough, there wouldn’t be a single thing she could do about it?
The civilized world might be coming to the realization that a man could, indeed, be guilty of raping his wife. But they were a very long way from civilization and, with the exception of Rafael, Alec suspected that there wasn’t a man in the village, or very many women, who’d hold it against him if he just claimed his husbandly rights and took what he wanted from Kate. What he’d been aching for all these months.
Disgusted with himself when he was actually tempted to do exactly that—because she wouldn’t really fight him, he knew—Alec forced down the hunger and reluctantly concentrated on the plan.
“I spent the time while you were asleep thinking about what you said.”
As his heated gaze had set her skin to sizzling with sexual awareness, K.J. literally held her breath, waiting for his next move. The one thing she hadn’t expected was for the flames in his eyes to be banked and his rough, sexy voice to turn almost remote.
“About what?” Her own voice, thin and needy, was that of a stranger.
“About our marriage being a sham.”
He picked up her left hand from the table, seeming entranced with the bare fourth finger. The one he’d slipped that gold ring on. The very same ring she’d left behind in the hotel room, along, with her heart, she’d belatedly discovered.
“Oh?” It was part whisper, part croak.
“I was thinking that you may be right.”
“I see.” Unfortunately, she did. All too dearly. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the surprising pain that felt like a dagger through her heart. “Well, then, I suppose it’s time for me to tell you the entire story about why I’ve come here.”
Alec didn’t say a single word as she explained all about the bachelor auction, how his name had une
xpectedly come up, how she’d felt pushed into a corner. And, most importantly, how the auction was for such a worthwhile cause. Once she’d started, the words poured out, like water over a dam.
“All right,” Alec said when she’d finally run down.
K.J. stared at him, looking for the catch. “Then you’ll do it?”
“If it’ll help you out.”
“Oh, it will.” Why didn’t she feel relief? she wondered. “And literacy is so important—”
“I already contribute to literacy, Kate. The only reason I’m agreeing is because you seem to believe your career depends on me making a fool of myself.”
“You could never look foolish, Alec,” she said earnestly. “And you’ll see, it might even be fun, having a roomful of women fighting over you.”
There was only one woman Alec wanted. And she was sitting right here, close enough that he could smell the herbal shampoo that reminded him of an alpine meadow.
“I’m not certain what the procedures are for getting a divorce in this country,” he continued, seemingly unaware of what remained of her heart lying in tatters all around them on the hard-packed earthen floor. “But we can ask Rafael in the morning. He might know. Since he also has several friends in the government, he should be able to grease a few wheels to arrange a divorce, or annulment, or whatever is faster to obtain.”
Although she’d always thought herself a courageous woman, K.J. found she could not meet Alec’s gaze. Not when she feared that the hot moist sheen filling her eyes would give away her tumultuous thoughts. “If that’s what you want,” she said quietly.
“I didn’t when you first arrived this afternoon. But it’s what you want. Isn’t it?”
Here was her out, K.J. told herself. She should just tell him the truth before she got into this ridiculous lie too deeply. She should admit that what she really wanted to do was rip his shirt off his body and press her face against his chest. She longed to taste the tangy flavor of his flesh, drink in his musky male scent, feel the ridges of rippling muscle beneath her fingertips.
But that wouldn’t be nearly enough. Then she wanted to tear open those faded jeans and release his thick, heavy sex, and cup it in her hands, stroke it with her fingernails and tongue, take it deep into her mouth....
No! K.J. had to remind herself that she’d come all this way on a mission, not to jump into bed with the most perfect specimen of a male she’d ever met, a man who’d make any romance cover model look like a wimp and any fictional romantic hero seem like a piker. As thrilling as it would be, a sexual encounter with Alec would only complicate matters because, unfortunately, there was no future in it.
Her life was not here in the godforsaken jungle. She’d plotted her future carefully, since her grandmother had first insisted that if K.J. was determined to become a photographer, she should at least have the good sense to have a career to fall back on.
Somehow, when she hadn’t been paying enough attention, her editing had taken precedence over her photography. But that would surely change once she earned her promotion and had more time, more breathing room.
Her path was laid out before her, and while it might not exactly be a yellow brick road, and it certainly wasn’t leading to anything as magical as Oz, K.J. realized, even on the bad days, that it was a lot better than most people’s.
- And although Alec had, admittedly, been a stimulating detour on that previously straight and narrow path, it was now time to continue on.
She briefly closed her eyes against the pain caused by that decision, then resolutely opened them and forced her gaze back up to his.
“Yes,” she finally answered him. The ragged whisper was barely audible even in the close confines of the hut. It was also less than convincing. She cleared her throat, then tried again. “A divorce is what I want.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Kate? Not about a thing as important as this?”
“Not,” she lied through her teeth.
K.J. thought she saw a flicker of disappointment in his slate gray eyes, but it came and went so quickly, she couldn’t be certain.
“Fine.” The single word was clipped and as final as the deadly thud of an executioner’s ax. “Now that we’ve gotten that settled, I guess I’ll be going, since I have to leave the village early tomorrow morning and—”
“You’re leaving?”
Alec viewed the panic in her eyes, watched the color drain from her sunburned face. He wondered whether his wife was actually distraught at the idea of being separated again, or if she was merely afraid his departure would interfere with her divorce.
“I’ll only be gone for the day. I’m going a couple of miles upriver, but I’ll be back in plenty of time to escort you to the festival.”
Eloping with Alec had been a rash act, and chasing him down here to the Amazon had definitely been reckless, but feeling the way she did—like a hot, seething, tempestuous Vesuvius about to blow—K.J. decided that attending a fertility pageant with this man would be, hands down, the most dangerous thing she’d ever done.
“I’m still not certain that’s a very good idea.”
“You don’t want to miss the opportunity for some once-in-a-lifetime shots,” he said again. “Shots you’d never get back home in the city. Besides, I don’t see how we can avoid it. Since everyone in the village knows we’re married—”
“They do?”
“Word travels faster than you’d think down here,” he said. “And since divorce isn’t really a concept in their tribal social structure, now that you’ve finally arrived, it would seem strange—and rude—if I showed up in public without you.”
Since it appeared she was going to be stuck here for at least the next couple of days, K.J. definitely didn’t want to insult her hosts. Or cause Alec any unnecessary embarrassment.
“All right. Since you put it that way.” Another thought occurred to her. “If they know we’re married—technically—won’t they think it strange that you’re spending the night with Rafael?”
This time she knew she didn’t imagine the flames that sparked in his silver-gray eyes. “Are you inviting me to stay here? With you?”
“Not in any . . . uh, intimate way . . . but I suppose we could work out some arrangement. I certainly wouldn’t want to damage your reputation with the tribe.”
“You needn’t concern yourself with that. To tell the truth, it’s your reputation you should be worrying about.”
“Mine?”
“In this culture, a woman who can’t keep a husband in her bed is looked upon as pretty much a failure.”
He’s challenging you, trying to bring the subject back to sex. Whatever you do, don’t fall into his trap and remind him that you certainly didn’t have any problem keeping him in bed the night of your honeymoon.
Feminine pride flared as K.J. ignored the harpy and lifted her chin in a challenge of her own. “I could have you on your knees.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed instantly. “Willingly. Gladly. In fact, now that you bring it up, remember how—”
“I remember,” she snapped, cutting him off before he reminded her of how he’d slowly rolled down her stockings, one at a time, then licked his wicked way back up her legs, tormenting with his teeth and tongue until she’d come to pieces standing there beside the bed, before they’d even gotten around to taking off the rest of their clothes.
Once again, she managed, just barely, to force her raging hormones back into their steel cage. “What about the husband?” she asked, “Isn’t he expected to keep up his part? So to speak?”
“Sure. In fact, the survival of the tribe depends on his ability to perform. Since this is a matriarchal society, the women pretty much call the shots, which is why it’s considered normal courting behavior to have a sexual rehearsal the week before the wedding.”
“Rehearsal?”
“Yeah. The couple disappear into the bridal hut and don’t come out until the morning of the ceremony. Foods believed to be aphrodisiacs are pla
ced in front of the door, to increase libido and keep their strength up. And each night the rest of the tribe chants to the gods for the union to be a success. I’ve always thought it wasn’t such a bad way for the woman to try out a prospective groom before the wedding. Just to make certain everything’s in working order.”
His grin was quick and wickedly seductive in a way that caused K.J.’s blood to spike. It also reminded her that everything about Alec had been in splendid working order.
“But after marriage, things even out a bit and it’s up to both of them to keep things interesting,” he continued. “I hear some of the techniques are very innovative. In fact, if even half of the stories I’ve heard are remotely true, Masters and Johnson would probably have a field day studying these people’s sexual behavior.”
Just talking about sex with this man had K.J. feeling on the verge of meltdown. Although the afternoon thunderstorm had passed, enough electricity was sparking between them to supply power to this village for at least a year.
“Speaking of bed,” she murmured, stifling a fake yawn as she tried to ignore the throbbing between her legs. “I think perhaps it’s time I went to sleep. Despite my nap, I’m still tired, and since you said you have to leave early in the morning...”
“Good point.” He pushed himself up from the table and stood over her. “I put a pitcher of fresh water, a cup and a bowl on the chest, just in case you didn’t want to go back outside in the dark.”
He pointed at the piece of bamboo furniture on a far wall. Pitcher, bowl and cup were obviously handmade from clay and, taking in the intricate designs of local animals and plant life, K.J. knew that more than one New York gallery would love to represent the artisan.
“There’s also some cream for your face. To ease the sunburn. So—” he shrugged “—I guess that’s about it. Unless you need anything else?”
“No.” Other than desperately wanting you to make mad, passionate love to me all night long, I’m just dandy, she thought. “I’ll be fine.”
Another lie. Beads of perspiration glistened on that dark triangle of tanned male flesh framed by the open collar of his shirt; K.J. found herself nearly overcome with the desire to lick them off.
