JUNGLE LOVER
Sally Heywood
There was more than one type of jungle predator
Chrissy had expected danger. After all, collecting rare botanical specimens in the steamy Amazon rain forest almost guaranteed it.
She hadn't prepared herself, however, for Rodrigo Garcia Montada--the arrogant, autocratic owner of more hectares of lush green vegetation than Chrissy could fathom. Somehow he seemed to feel this gave him the right to take control of her work--and her heart.
Even more infuriating were the very definite ideas Rodrigo had about separating love from marriage... and into which of those compartments he intended to fit Chrissy!
CHAPTER ONE
They seemed to have been tramping through the rain forest forever, thought Chrissy, as she stumbled along the narrow path behind the porters. The atmosphere was like a steam bath, making her long blonde hair stick in damp tendrils around her heart-shaped face. On all sides the endlessly tall trees blocked out any hint of sky, drowning them in a sepulchral gloom that hour by hour began to arouse all kinds of primitive fears in her.
Stop it! she scolded herself as a liana coiled snakelike over her shoulders, making her jump. It's your own fault you're here, she admonished. There's no one to blame but yourself! But the relentless, echoing shrieks of parrots and monkeys and the multitude of unnameable and possibly dangerous creatures fifty metres above their heads in the canopy played on her nerves. It wasn't only the liana hanging from the branches of the giant evergreens, long and sinuous in browns and acidic greens, and threatening in its similarity to the cobras and pythons of her imagination. It was the sheer vastness of the place, its ominous, watchful presence that seemed to set the little group of travellers at nought.
When her guide, Pedro, announced a stop not more than five minutes further on, she couldn't help quickening her pace. He turned with a smile as they came suddenly into a grove of sunlit grass. Chrissy blinked green eyes in the strong light and shook out the damp blonde hair, running sticky fingers up through the roots and longing for a long, cool shower.
Pedro got the men to spread out a tarpaulin for her. 'We siesta here for one hour, then it is but one hour more to the river-bank.'
'The last leg! Thank heavens for that! So we should definitely be there by nightfall!'
The guide came to stand beside her. He only came up to her shoulder, but what he lacked in height he made up for in bulk. 'Beautiful, isn't it?' he observed, following her glance around the grove.
Chrissy nodded. Despite her fears of imaginary pythons and the more real dangers from insects, spiders, bats and the species of poisonous plant that Gavin had warned her about, she couldn't help agreeing that there was a savage grandeur about the place. It was still wild and untamed—and threatening for that very reason. She gave a tremulous smile. 'To tell you the truth I feel a little bit dazed. Gavin briefed me very thoroughly before I came out, but it hasn't prepared me for the real thing!'
'Maybe you should have stayed in the city longer to get used to the climate,' he sympathised.
Chrissy thought longingly of the cafe-lined streets and squares she had left the previous day.
'You're probably jet-lagged as well,' Pedro went on, regarding her tired face. 'It is a long flight from London, no?'
She nodded, then lay down on the tarpaulin, too exhausted to talk. She would try to snatch a nap as best she could in the sticky heat, as Pedro advised.
She tossed and turned uncomfortably. Her cotton shirt was clinging to her skin and she loosened the top three buttons when she realised Pedro and the three porters had already closed their eyes. It allowed a brief cooling draught of air to finger inside before quickly turning to sticky heat again. It was the air itself that pressed its clammy hands over her, and even when she wafted her soft-brimmed bush hat over her heated skin it made little difference to the way she felt. Even wearing the absolute minimum, no bra, just a shirt and cotton trousers over the briefest of cotton panties, she felt as if she were melting in the heat.
If only I could get rid of these trousers, she thought. They were long, heavy-duty cotton, and seemed to cling to every curve of her thighs, but a glance at Pedro and the three bronzed young men carrying all the equipment showed her the folly of that idea. It would look provocative to say the least! She shuddered. Despite Pedro's protection she didn't feel safe at all.
At least she could loosen the laces on her jungle boots and wriggle her toes. She didn't dare take them off in case something attacked her while she slept. If she slept.
Defiantly shutting her mind to the dangers all around, she forced her eyes closed. But her mind was buzzing with the newness of everything. She was lucky to have got this assignment. The man she was taking over from, Gavin, had warned her it would be tough. But she had wanted the challenge. She had wanted to show them that even if she had accidentally won that ridiculous beauty contest she was a career girl first and foremost, a serious person, not just an empty-headed doll. She was somebody who was going to make her mark.
Even so she couldn't help opening her eyes now and then to give a quick, frightened glance around the grove. The porters seemed to be asleep, sprawled like three puppies under a tree. Pedro lay beside her, eyes shut, breath verging on a gentle snore.
To think I was in rainy old England three days ago, she thought. It was overwhelming. It was as if she'd landed in paradise. Ever since they had left the city, scene after scene of astonishing beauty had unfolded before her and now they were in a setting fit for the first day of creation.
Through half-closed lids she watched the sunlight shaft through the velvety shadows beneath the noisy green canopy overhead. Despite her fears and a mind filled with new sights and sounds she must at last have dozed off, for eventually she felt herself struggling from out of a deep slumber broken only by random dreams.
The air was still steaming, heavy with the pungent odour of tropical blooms, and as her eyelids flickered she saw Pedro, still sleeping on the tarpaulin beside her. But the second thing she saw was a pair of unfamiliar jungle boots on the other side of him.
Her green eyes narrowed sleepily, trying to make sense of what they saw, for attached to the boots was an endless pair of khaki-clad trousers.
As her sleep-bleared eyes shifted upwards they alighted next on a thick leather belt. It was buckled over unfamiliar slouching hips. Moving up inch by slow inch, her now startled glance encountered a khaki army shirt, straining to sheath the muscles of a broad, masculine chest. The shirt gaped at the neck, revealing a deeply tanned throat. Then her head tilted as she emerged from sleep, befuddled senses registering a strong jaw, jutting cheekbones, a smudge of shadow beneath two piercing eyes. They were now smiling sardonically down into her own.
She gave an exclamation of mingled surprise and fear. The muscles in her stomach clenched and she managed to raise herself on to one elbow.
But for the eyes, she would have guessed she was looking into the face of a South American, but they were a pair of eyes of the coolest, iciest shade of cobalt she had ever seen.
A violent fear invaded her. She became shudderingly aware of the fact that she was virtually alone, lying unprotected on the tarpaulin in a remote part of the rain forest—at the mercy of a complete stranger.
Just looking at him reawakened all the fears she had been trying to repress. He towered over her, giving an exaggerated sense of height and authority. She could see he was taller than average and formidable in a very physical way that sent shivers of warning up and down her spine. The moment in which he went on gazing down at her seemed endless... and, now the initial shock had worn off, all she could do was stare dumbly up at him like a cornered animal.
In that moment, she felt she learned every last thing about him.
She
raised herself again, resting on one hand. The way his blue-eyed glance lasered over her defenceless body, coming back again and again to her face, told her he felt the same thing—he had stripped her. She lay naked before him. She saw him give a predatory half-smile. There was no humour in it. Only triumph. Arrogance. Certainty. But certainty of what?
She shook her head to clear it. It must be the heat pounding her with such wild fantasies!
But the man standing over her was no fantasy—he was all flesh and blood and naked aggression.
She brushed a hand over her face in confusion, then sat up properly, wishing Pedro would wake up and save her—but even as the thought flew into her mind she knew a man like this could annihilate the little man with the flick of a wrist if he felt like it!
Her glance dropped to the stranger's wrists. Strong, tanned, sprinkled with black hair, they rested casually on his leather belt, fingers looped in the top of it. He was a man very much at ease with himself, though something about the angle of his head told her he was always on the alert. He must be a warden of some sort, she hazarded, taking in the tough, no-nonsense jungle boots, the rifle slung over one shoulder, the air of being in the place where he belonged.
But his silent and entirely insulting regard had gone on long enough. 'Who are you?' she croaked, unsurprised to find her voice out of control. She sat up, drawing in her legs. 'What are you doing here?' she asked more strongly, failing to disguise a note of accusation. Her glance automatically skidded to the scientific equipment the bearers had been portering—supplies for the research post. He didn't look like a thief, but what did she know? He could be one of the cut-throat bandits that were said to roam the area. In fact, it was more than likely!
He must have read her thoughts. In return he gave a humourless chuckle. 'So, angel, how long are you going to last out?'
His voice was a rough drawl that made Chrissy's toes curl. Resenting the ease with which he seemed to be asserting his dominance over the situation, she scrambled on to her knees, but the temperature defeated her and she faltered for a moment, swaying in the oppressive heat.
Now she was kneeling at his feet—it seemed to emphasise her subjugation, but, fight it as she would, the humidity was lapping round her, making her limbs tremble and the stranger's shape swim before her eyes. For a helpless moment all she could do was crouch at his feet, looking up at him, unable to gather the strength to bring herself to stand face to face with him. The heat was simply overwhelming, like being trapped in a steam bath.
When he saw her momentarily beaten he made a gesture with one hand as if to assist her to her feet, but as she automatically raised her hand in response he abruptly withdrew his own and stepped back, narrowing his eyes. 'What's the matter?'
'It's so hot,' she muttered, longing for a cool shower and a drink of something chiming with ice cubes.
'You shouldn't be out here if you can't take it,' he retorted roughly. 'It's no place for tourists. This isn't a pleasure ground.'
'I can take it.' She wanted to deny that she was a tourist—how dared he?—but the effort was too much and all she could manage was to draw herself up as best she could while crouching there at his feet. She dared not risk making a fool of herself any more by trying to get up but she could show by her expression that she wasn't beaten yet.
'Get everybody on the move,' he ordered, ignoring her efforts. 'It's time you left. It'll be nightfall before you know what's hit you.'
With that he began to make his way across the clearing. She saw him heft the rifle more comfortably over his shoulder. His broad back clearly told her he expected to be obeyed on the instant. It whipped up her antagonism as much as the curt order that had issued from his lips. He reached the edge of the clearing. Multi-coloured parrots flew shrieking from the undergrowth at his approach.
She made a final effort and got to her feet, then drew in a breath. 'What the hell's it got to do with you when we move off?' she shouted across the grove after his retreating back.
She hadn't expected much reaction, but her words acted as if he'd been roped. He stopped dead then turned slowly to face her. His expression plainly said he wasn't used to having his orders questioned.
He gave her a slow, insolent scrutiny, cold blue eyes tearing her fragile confidence to shreds. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle alarmingly but she braced herself for a whiplash reiteration of what he'd just said. Instead, he merely raised two sharply drawn brows in an expression of mock amusement. It plainly showed he regarded her comment as beneath contempt.
His lips, she noticed hazily in the second in which they outfaced each other, were full and sensual, but now, together with the raised eyebrows, they expressed nothing so much as the surprised contempt he obviously felt— as if amazed she could actually speak, let alone contradict him.
She felt herself bristle but controlled any outward signs of anger. She wasn't going to let him know he was getting under her skin. She knew the type. It would only make him worse! 'Well?' she demanded, raising her own arched blonde brows in a mirroring of his own response. Her chin rose too and her cupid's bow lips visibly tightened.
'It's cause and effect, my sweet angel.' His drawl was scathing. 'You won't reach the river until nightfall if you lounge around here all day. I don't know who's supposed to be in charge --' he glanced at the still recumbent Pedro, and then across at the sleeping porters before peering towards the forest as if genuinely expecting someone else to appear—Chrissy knew it was a pantomime designed to put her in her place, '—but,' he went on after he'd drawn out the pause as long as possible, 'they sure as hell like waiting for trouble.'
Despite his manner, his words gave her a jolt and she realised that she was supposed to be in charge of the group—at least, it was up to her to tell Pedro when and where she wanted to go. Maybe this annoying stranger was right to offer advice. Even so his manner irked her. He had no right to saunter around reprimanding complete strangers without even bothering to find out who they were!
'Do you always barge in handing out advice right, left and centre?' she demanded with a lift of her chin. Before he could answer she went on, 'It so happens I was about to get everyone on the move again when you came up.'
His amused smile told her he didn't believe a word of it. 'Just do it, then. You've been well out of things for the last ninety minutes, catching up on your beauty sleep no doubt. One of you at least should have stayed awake. I take it,' he went on smoothly, 'you've had this jaunt of yours cleared by the appropriate authorities?'
'What?'
'Well?' He knew she'd heard him and his reply showed he thought himself above having to repeat anything.
Chrissy bit her lip. Nobody had mentioned any clearing authorities to her. It was obvious he must be a ranger. One of that officious breed of people who liked everything docketed before they allowed anybody to make a move.
She curled her lip. 'I'm sure you're only doing your job. Congratulations. If I ever bump into your boss I'll let him know how efficient you are.' She half turned with the intention of nudging the still sleeping Pedro awake with the toe of her boot, but the ranger was coming back.
'I don't like gawping tourists,' he told her. 'Where are you supposed to be heading?'
Chrissy drew back. Although a good two yards separated them his nearness was like a physical assault. 'I don't know why you should imagine I'm a tourist,' she clipped. 'I'm here on important scientific work, actually.'
He gave a deep-throated chuckle. 'Really?' Plainly he didn't believe her.
'I'm a botanist,' she said, 'though why I should have to explain anything to you --' She broke off.
His eyes were lasering over her face with a hardness that his apparent amusement did nothing to hide. It made the words freeze in her throat. He broke the silence when he rasped, 'If I want explanations, honey, I'll get them.' There was a pause. 'You understand me?'
Hackles up, she tried to match his glance but faltered at the last minute. 'Mind your own business,' she muttered, c
lenching and unclenching her fists.
'But it is my business.' Unconsciously he shifted the rifle resting on his shoulder. Chrissy didn't know whether it was meant to be a subtle warning. Suddenly she was trembling again. He moved closer. 'Now I'll ask you again. What the hell are you doing here?' His voice was so low she had to strain to catch his words, but there was no mistaking the hint of menace in his tone.
It forced a reluctant answer from between her lips. 'I've told you,' she croaked, 'I'm a botanist. I have a perfect right to be here. If there's some bureaucratic arrangement whereby you're supposed to be informed about the movements of people through the forest --' that's reasonable, she registered '—then it looks as if there's been a cock-up. It's not my fault. The foundation is supposed to see to all the details.'
She risked a glance into his eyes and was astonished at their sudden concentrated glare. 'You mean you're supposed to be taking over from the chap who went sick?'
She nodded. At least he seemed to know something.
'You?' he asked again, not trying to disguise the note of incredulity in his voice.
'Why not me?' she flared quickly. He had unwittingly touched a raw nerve and she knew exactly what was going through his mind. It was the old story. 'I suppose you imagine only men can be botanists? Just because I'm a girl you think I'm too stupid or something --'
'Not at all,' he came back. 'It's just that --' he paused, sifting his words carefully '—I'd unconsciously built up a different picture in my head... You look nothing like the sort of bearded scientist I was expecting!'
He gave a small smile, tightening the skin over his cheekbones in a way that was suddenly breath-stoppingly attractive. Chrissy's lips opened. 'I must say,' he went on before she could speak, 'it makes a vast improvement to the landscape.' He gave a smile obviously meant to charm.
It roused her hackles again. 'You're all the same,' she clipped back. 'You never get beyond the surface. I'm here to do some serious work. My job means more to me than anything.' Even here, she was thinking furiously, even though this man didn't know she'd won that infernal contest, even here they assumed because she was a reasonably attractive blonde she was some sort of dumbo.
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