He’d hardly moved when she cried “Oh no!” On her next attempt at shaking it loose, one of the many gannets sweeping through the channel on the updrafts hovered over the bush as if to land.
“Shoo, shoo. Get away!” Her shouts made no difference.
Wings flapping in slow motion, the bird sank lower. Lower. Yellow feathers lit the top of its head like a gleaming halo, but he saw nothing angelic in its intent. They could both die. Both fall in a tangle of wheeling limbs.
“For God’s sake, let go, the bush won’t take its weight. We might all end up on the rocks if you don’t let go.”
Though Ngaire was the one tugging at the bush, the gannet looked straight at him. He shook his head, refusing to give credence to the intelligence he saw in its golden eyes as twigs buckled under the extra pressure. Then the bird flapped its wings, lifting as leaves and branches whipped back, tossing the strap aside. Freeing it, and them.
Neither of them moved for a few seconds. In a daze they watched the gannet return to its nest and awe tinged Ngaire’s voice as it drifted upward. “How weird was that?”
“Too weird to get my head around. Let’s get the hell out of here before it tries a repeat performance.”
The remainder of the climb was anticlimactic. A few more seconds and they covered a distance equal to the one that had stopped his heart more than once while testing his humanity. But they were both still there, still alive. He and Ngaire were both thankful to take a helping hand as they stepped over the rail on legs that shook, from a ranger eager to regain his authority. Much good it did him. All his admonitions were drowned in a sea of applause by the team who’d pulled them to safety.
In a babble of languages louder than a flock of rosellas attacking a berry farm, the passengers bonded from the incident.
Meanwhile the source of all his problems flung her arms around him, her damned day pack landing a good one on his shin, not to mention the pain in his groin created by having her body plastered against his.
Damn his treacherous libido!
She felt too good, fit too well.
“What can I say?” she sighed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You saved my life.” Keeping a hold on his waist, she pushed back to looked up at him. The strain of the climb to safety showed on her face as if the pale bronze silk of her skin was lined with white linen.
Time spun out of control as they stared at each other for what seemed like forever, yet the moment the tip of her tongue slid between her lips to moisten them he knew he was about to break all the rules. All his rules.
Her mouth took on the dewy sheen of raspberries in a rainstorm as reason battled with hunger in his mind. One taste. Just one taste. Surely that would be enough to satisfy his appetite?
As he dipped his head toward her, she rose on her toes to meet him, and somewhere in the middle he discovered how wrong he’d been. Far from being satisfied he’d simply whetted the craving.
Thank God there was nothing he could do about it here.
He saw color return to her face as their lips parted. No embarrassment shaded the blue in her eyes, only a wash of emotion he prayed was only gratitude. And that she hadn’t realized how close she’d come to being ravished from a kiss intended to be a simple brush of mouths. And that she didn’t know the danger she represented.
“The Chinese say, saving a life means you now own it, but you’d be short-changed getting mine. Though if I can return the favor in any other way, name it, it’s yours,” she promised, pressing her cheek to his chest.
Hell, she had no idea what she was offering. At that very moment, the only way she could save his life was by spreading her legs to let him in.
The coarseness of his thought didn’t succeed, didn’t turn him off or make the feeling go away. She felt tiny, like a small bird, its body quivering around his. And those huge eyes reminded him of drenched violets. Hell, he was really in trouble when he started getting poetic.
Duty had just taken another blow.
His gut drew in sharply as he felt her nipples pierce the soft cotton that had actually been a decent shirt until their escapade. Of course his shakiness was magnified by the rush of adrenaline in his veins.
So, he was making excuses to himself? Hanging over a hundred-foot cliff will do it every time.
If he didn’t get back on track soon, the rest of the passengers would think they’d crashed a voyeur’s convention. “I won’t keep you to that promise. Heat-of-the-moment stuff.”
Her chin tilted and rested above his sternum. Could she feel the damage it was doing to his heart?
“I do mean it,” she vowed. “Every last word.”
“Okay, if you insist. You can undo some of these buckles and let me return the belts to their owners.”
“No problem, but that isn’t nearly enough for a life.”
Her smile was almost too knowing for his comfort as she moved away, but when he turned, he saw most of their owners had helped themselves. He gave them a wave and a slight bow in reply. “Thanks, guys, you were great.”
The guide translated by his elbow, but from their smiles, he could tell a translation hadn’t been necessary.
Before she’d finished, one guy came up, saying, “I am Jimmy Chen. Please?” Indicating his camera, he took their photo before Kel could protest, or recall he’d been the one to barge into Ngaire, while she, sublimely unaware, simply grimaced. “I looked a mess.”
“Me, too. But never mind, I doubt if it will make the local papers.” Or any newspapers, he hoped. Giving the media a copy of his face wasn’t conducive to remaining anonymous.
When the others had finished patting Ngaire as if to make sure she was still with them, especially the one who’d bowled her over, she began dusting herself off, picking bits of greenery from the front of her T-shirt. He watched, tempted to help clean up the curve of breasts he could still feel imprinted on his chest, driven nearly mad by the urge to kiss the scratches marking the skin above her waist.
The shadow of her navel was just visible above the button fastening. How easy it would be to reach out and flick it open.
As an antidote for lust, he began brushing himself down, but the dirt and squashed plant life decorating his front had taken up permanent residence. The shirt would have to go. He wanted no reminder of what they’d just gone through, no memory of how close his baser instincts had come to ending her life.
Swallowing the gritty lump in his throat, he forced himself to ask, “Are you always this much trouble? First in Tahiti and now in New Zealand. Please tell me this isn’t the story of your life.”
Her answer came flashing back at him. “Believe me, you don’t want to know. As for me being trouble…in paradise?” Her eyes sparkled. “It has a ring to it, though, don’t you think so?”
“Sounds like you’ve read too many tourist guide books with all this paradise nonsense. This is just plain old New Zealand. It doesn’t change much. C’mon, let’s move on out. The others are way ahead. Forget about the mess on our shirts, we can buy new ones at the next souvenir shop they take us to.”
“That sounds like a plan. We could buy a matching pair, like a team. McKay and Johnman.”
He pretended shock. “A matching what? I said you were trouble, not that I was asking for it.”
Grabbing his jacket from the rail where he’d left it, he slung it over his shoulder and curved an arm round hers, supporting her. A few yards down the track he was struck by the thought that his actions were a complete contradiction to his words.
Chapter 5
K el disappeared inside his room before Ngaire managed to unlock her door. The keycard being awkward as usual, it took three or four attempts before deigning to give her the green light.
She wondered why she’d been so hasty when she viewed the mess inside her room, which had been completely ransacked. Acid rose in her throat and stole her breath. Damn you, Savage, why can’t you leave me alone? Cautiously, she checked behind the closet and ensuite doors in case the culprit was still ar
ound.
Thank heavens she’d taken the mere with her. The same thought had teased her mind on the trip to the Hilton as well as the tour of the vineyard where they’d lunched.
It was more than residual fuzziness from the wine tasting. No way would she belittle Kel’s efforts, yet she was certain Te Ruahiki’s spirit had been the driving force behind her escape from the bush. As they left Muriwai, she’d remembered the inside of her pack felt hot brief seconds before she fell. Had it been a warning to take care? If it had, the old guy might have let her in on the secret before she started her flying lesson.
It hadn’t stopped her muttering “Show off” as she hugged her pack. But there’d been no warning of this, her trashed room. Thank goodness she was traveling light. Carefully leaving everything untouched, she did a quick scan of the room, but nothing jumped out to say it was missing. Should she report the incident, or simply shrug it off as part of a learning curve to make sure she never let the mere out of her sight?
Kel would know.
She dragged open the adjoining door, slapping the flat of her palm on the one on his side. “Kel, are you there? I need help.”
Within seconds, the door swung back into a room identical to hers but in reverse. Her brain acknowledged the similarity subconsciously. Most of her synapses being too taken up by the vision of Kel, the shirt in his hand no longer hiding the supple strength or width of his shoulders or the hair-rough wedge tapering into a narrow strip at his waistband. She’d realized Kel was buff when she’d thrown her arms round him in an excess of gratitude, but reality exceeded imagination.
Regrettably, no good reason for running her fingers through the fine scroll of dark hair came to mind, and she took a deep calming breath as the muscles in his arms bunched when his grip tightened on his shirt. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing. Absolutely nothing! “Someone’s been in my room.”
“Maid service. They tidied my room, too.” He took a step back, gripping the edge of the door as if to close it and walk away.
“No! My room, someone’s searched my room,” she stuttered, almost brought to her knees by crisp male body hair scraping the top of her arm as he eased past. The feeling intensified as he halted, tossing his balled shirt onto his bed.
His fingers closed around the tops of her arms, tightening briefly as his eyelids creased in a frown. “Show me.”
It took all her willpower to resist, to squelch the urge to lean into him. She closed her eyes and held her breath.
Heaven.
How would he smell after a night of lovemaking? If she succumbed to desire, would the results be something to remember, or to regret, knowing it could never be matched?
“Hell, doll, you’re trembling. Let’s see what’s got you upset.”
The note of genuine concern in his voice brought her down to earth. Not a moment too soon. Saved from the urge to wind herself round him like a lovesick cat. “Take a look-see.”
He stepped over her best nightdress’s abandoned sprawl on the carpet and stopped to survey the silky-gray cover of the bed strewn with no-nonsense daywear. “So, I’m guessing you didn’t leave it this way?”
Her chest swelled with indignation. “Of course I didn’t. I left it tidy.” His eyebrows rose a fraction.
“And I didn’t throw my clothes around as an excuse to get you into my room.”
But she might have, if she’d known it would work. She looked down to hide the truth in her eyes and realized he was barefoot.
She must have interrupted his march to the shower. His feet were long and narrow and he balanced on the balls of them, like a dancer or a fighter. Yes a fighter, like herself. She should have known. It was there in his body language, and read, Walk softly, carrying a big stick. She felt her skin color up.
Heavens, that mind of hers!
“I never suggested you did this to trick me into your room. Believe me, this would be overkill. But at first glance…” He gestured toward her clothes. “My sister used to pile clothes on every flat surface including the floor.”
“Give me a break, I only moved in last night.”
“Have you checked to see what’s missing?”
“Not minutely. I called you almost straight away.”
If anything had been taken, it was small and of no importance. “Looks like everything’s still here.” She shrugged. “I can’t see what the thief hoped to gain. Anything of value, like my passport and travelers checks, I carry with me.”
“Could be a spur of the moment job. The maid may have forgotten to lock up after she did your room.”
“Should I report it to the police or just the hotel?”
“Not if you want to be on that tour bus tomorrow. If you inform the hotel, they’ll report it to the police, then you’ll be holed up answering questions when you could be eating dinner with me. Besides, you said nothing was missing.”
Yet there might have been. Thanks to the attempt to snatch her suitcase in Tahiti, she’d decided to carry the carved chunk of jade in her day pack. The extra weight on her shoulder had been worth it. And might just have saved her life.
If she lost the mere, her hopes of seeing life beyond her thirtieth birthday didn’t stand a chance. Today’s events had confirmed that. All she had to do was reach Christchurch, with both herself and Te Ruahiki in one piece, and the rest of her life would stretch a lot further than the five-plus weeks, which was all she could count on for now.
Chaly said he should have let her die…. The words jibed at Kel’s conscience as she ate dinner.
There had been a light tinge, a very light tinge of humor in the voice over the cell phone when Kel called him, though not enough to disguise his boss’s contempt for the target. Personally, Kel didn’t feel like laughing. The joke was so close to being true it made him cringe inside.
No, because of what he occasionally referred to as Kel’s holier-than-thou attitude, Chaly had said it to annoy. “At least you’ll be able to go to mass with a clear conscience on Sunday.”
Hell, the last time he darkened his church’s door was at his father’s funeral.
Although, the news of someone other than himself breaking and entering Ngaire’s room, had cheered Chaly up mightily. “It goes to confirm Ms. Two Feathers McKay is key to the whole deal. Stick with her day and night.”
The order had immediately reminded him of kissing Ngaire, which led to thoughts of the photograph taken while his head still wasn’t on straight. It bugged him no end. Bugged him enough to consider breaking into Chen’s room to let light into the undeveloped film. Hell, now he was acting phobic about having his image locked inside the camera, as if, as some cultures believed, it had stolen his soul. There were those who thought his soul was long gone. They could be right, which meant all he had left to give was his life.
He looked up from his meal as he felt Ngaire’s gaze stroking him. “I’m glad we decided to eat here,” she told him. “The food’s delicious. This fish is so fresh the chef must have a line off the end of the wharf.”
For all her attempt at normality, she sounded as tightly strung as a bow. He gave her eight out of ten for effort as he looked down at what was left of the rare tenderloin he’d chosen. “My steak’s not too bad, either, but I don’t suspect the chef of hiding a herd of cows somewhere.”
“I don’t see why not.” She gave a small shudder and a thready laugh. “Are you sure that thing’s dead and doesn’t simply have a bad case of sunburn?”
“I’ll let you know if it moos at me.”
It had been easy, almost too easy to persuade Ngaire to join him for dinner. He’d thought she might be too shaky after her brush with death and then discovering her room had been searched. The second time that day had she but known.
That’s why he’d suggested dining onboard. At least, it felt like being on a cruise ship. Watching the view up the harbor from White’s restaurant on the second floor, they could be at sea.
Then again, he could’ve been wrong about Ngaire earlier. Her shaki
ness might have been relief that she’d had the formula with her. Because, if she was a mule for the cartel he had in mind, they accepted no excuses for failure. To them, Ngaire would be no more than a flicker in the brilliance of their scheme, one they’d snuff out as easily as a candle.
She was staring again. And it wasn’t with a worshipful expression for the man who’d saved her. Quite the opposite, she’d shuttered her thoughts behind her lashes, making them impossible to read. Worse, in its own way, than if she’d treated him to the type of liquid gushing most heroes endured. He almost laughed out loud at the irony. Sure, the heartbreak hero, that was him.
Berating himself for being a bigheaded ass, he realized her focus had shifted and was aimed over his shoulder. Turning, he caught sight of Jimmy Chen being seated a few tables away, and a scowl put paid to his self-deprecating humor.
The way the guy flashed his damn camera around, he swore his scowl would become a permanent fixture. There were only so many ways to sneeze or cough at the precise moment to ruin a picture before people became suspicious.
Catching her glance, he said, “Forget him.”
“You’re right, I should. What sticks in my craw is, he never even apologized. Just kept snapping our photos all day, like we were part of a goddamn freak show.”
“Maybe he did but our guide didn’t translate correctly.”
“No, he never did apologize. I know enough Chinese to be sure of that. I live on the fringes of Chinatown.”
“That explains the suitcase.”
“Obnoxious, isn’t it? Sort of right out in your face. Silly me, I thought that meant no one would take it by mistake, but I was wrong. They tried to steal it.”
“Your vacation has gotten off on the wrong foot, but there’re still a few days left. Let’s turn it around and really have fun. Forget what happened, today’s disaster especially. It’s over and done, with no damage to speak of.”
“Apart from a few bruises, you mean?”
“We can take care of that tomorrow. Rotorua’s our next overnight stop. The hotel’s bound to have hot mineral pools. Good for what ails you, they say. You can soak all your pains away. I’ve a few aches myself that need taking care of,” he added, leaving himself wide open for Ngaire’s comeback. But then, she’d still to experience the sensual qualities of a hot mineral pool.
Heartbreak Hero Page 8
