Guide My Heart
(The Stirring Book 1)
by
Caroline Swart
Guide My Heart
Copyright © 2017 by Caroline Swart
Edited and Formatted by
Pam Berehulke, Bulletproof Editing
Cover design by
COMPRSA
Kindle Edition
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Coming Soon
Also by Caroline Swart
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
“Holy hotness.” Meghan pinched my thigh. “Would you look at that?”
“Ouch!” Smacking her fingers away, I looked in the direction she was pointing and sucked in a breath. “No way.”
Our jaws slack, both Meghan and I watched the sexiest male to ever draw breath sling a muscular thigh over the running board and hoist himself into the safari game-drive Jeep.
“Oh. My. God,” my best friend whispered in awe. Pressing a hand to her chest, she let out a tiny whimper of lust as he glanced at our group.
His green eyes tracked over my head but then almost immediately returned to focus on mine. The smile he gave me paralyzed me, and yet my lips curled up into a goofy grin, which would have stayed in place if Meghan didn’t pinch my thigh again.
“Brit. Brit, he’s looking at you.”
“Cut that out,” I snapped.
“But it’s true. Oh, sweet mother of—” She bit off her words as I kicked her under the seat.
“Calm down. You’re making a scene. He’s just a travel guide, and he’s got a job to do. He won’t start the tour until you stop gawking at him.”
Meghan bit her lip and continued to stare unabashedly.
We were in the third row of a Jeep that had been modified for game drives. An elderly couple dressed in khaki tops with matching leopard-print neck scarves sat next to us. Thankfully, they weren’t hogging all the room and were too small to elbow me in the confined space. I shifted restlessly on the hot seat, waiting for the tour to begin.
The four teenagers in the row in front of us were female, and it was obvious they’d noticed the guide. They used their European accents and flicked their hair, trying to attract his attention. As if they had a chance.
“He looks like Thor.”
Rolling my eyes, I noticed the glazed look on Meghan’s face and sighed. “Get a grip, Meggy. You’re worse than the pubescents in front of us.”
One of the girls turned and glared at me.
The vehicle roared to life with a lurch, forcing us to grab the handrail on top of the seat in front of us. I accidentally trapped that same girl’s hair, and she yelped as the big truck pulled away from the game lodge. As soon as I could, I released her curls and shrugged an insincere apology when she glared at me again. Talking was pointless over the roar of the engine.
Meghan seemed to break out of her lust-filled trance. “Here we go,” she mouthed with an enthusiastic smile. Her fair chin-length hair bounced as she twisted around to search for wildlife before we’d even left the enclosed area.
We hadn’t driven more than thirty yards when the driver stopped the noisy vehicle. An electrified double gate blocked our path with diamond-shaped danger signs clearly visible. A rush of chatter started between the tourists as we waited at the entrance.
Thor stood and faced us. He had to be the most amazing sight I’d seen since landing in South Africa yesterday for our two-week safari vacation.
After giving us a blinding smile, he greeted us in a velvety, powerful voice. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Chris.”
“It is the actor.” Meghan gasped, widening her eyes.
I frowned at her. “Don’t be stupid.” Obviously, our guide wasn’t really Chris Hemsworth, but he did bear a close resemblance.
“Welcome to the Lion’s Pride Game Lodge.” Resting his hip against the open window, he pointed at the driver. “This is David, and we’ll be introducing you to the inhabitants of our reserve.”
In a hushed voice, Meghan said, “Do you hear that accent? So yummy. I could listen to him all day long.”
I smiled and stole another glance, taking a quick inventory. Mid-twenties, tall, broad forehead, high cheekbones, tanned skin, and golden hair pulled back into a short ponytail. Everything about him screamed delicious.
“Before we leave the enclosure, please remember to stay inside the vehicle. The animals see the truck as a nonthreatening unit and won’t attack, but your safety isn’t guaranteed unless you remain seated.”
This caused another murmur of voices, and everyone discreetly shifted away from the sides.
As soon as the first gate opened, David stepped on the accelerator and drove inside the fenced area. The first gate slid closed behind us, and the one in front opened. Leaving the safe area, we entered the reserve.
A dirt road led the way into a yellowed grassy plain dotted with small green bushes, a rugged array of sloping hills in the distance. Here and there, thorny trees stretched their branches toward the wispy clouds above.
“Oh, this is so beautiful.” Meghan had finally stopped gawking at the tour guide and stared at the scenery around us.
A few antelope grazed nervously at the side of the road, and we stopped for a closer look. The bucks were no taller than knee-height with light brown hides and white underbellies. One of them sported an impressive set of horns, while the rest were smaller and hornless.
“These are impala. The babies are affectionately known as bokkies,” Chris said. “You’ll notice the male has the horns, and he has a harem of females.”
“I’ll be a part of Thor’s harem any day.” Meghan had resumed her starry-eyed expression, and I lowered my camera with a small laugh.
He glanced at me then and tilted his head slightly. My cheeks burning, I focused my gaze on the small buck.
“See the black streaks that run from their white buttocks to the upper hind legs?” He pointed at their tails and everyone nodded. “They form the letter M, like the M in McDonald’s.”
We gave him blank stares, waiting for him to explain.
“These antelope are the preferred choice of food for predators. They’re like McDonald burgers for lions and cheetahs. If you see the M running in the distance, you can bet that a leopard or another pred
ator is following behind.”
The tourists finally chuckled, and cameras flashed and clicked as he continued to educate us about the four-legged Happy Meals.
Chris’s knowledge was impressive, and he kept us entertained as the tour progressed. We stopped to see kudus, giraffe, and wildebeest. His voice was smooth, and I soon picked up the different nuances in his accent.
The temperature rose as the sun climbed, and an annoying line of sweat trickled down my back. Even though I wore a thin tank top with a pair of cotton shorts, the heat was still oppressive.
When we reached a large group of thorn trees, Chris gestured for David to stop. “Don’t make any loud noises,” he whispered as he pointed to a sandy spot on the far side of the last tree.
My eyes focused and I gasped. Five lionesses sprawled on the ground, panting in the heat. One lifted her head and seemed to single me out. She was enormous, and the way she fixed her amber eyes on mine caused tingles to erupt in my stomach. It was the weirdest feeling, like climbing into a hot bath with icy feet. Very creepy.
“This is part of the Khumba pride,” Chris said fondly. “The cubs are just out of sight. If we wait for a few minutes, they might make an appearance.”
Cameras clicked again, but everyone kept quiet. Even Meghan was subdued.
The lions were huge—no wildlife documentary could accurately depict their size. Their paws were gigantic, about ten inches wide from the first pad to the last. What would their claws feel like fully extracted and ripping into one’s flesh? Just the thought made me shiver.
Inside the vehicle, the atmosphere was electric. Everyone was excited, most likely too scared to speak.
As the lionesses relaxed in the sparse shade of the thorn bushes, flies buzzed around their heads and crawled over their bodies. They too were sweltering in the hot weather.
I could sympathize with them. At least when our vehicle moved, we had a slight breeze, but now that we’d stopped the temperature was hellish, and I was cooking.
“The females guard the cubs, and hunt for food at dusk. They generally lay low during the heat of the day.”
While Chris spoke, I blew out a breath, unable to bear the sticky heat any longer. Raising my hand, I swiped at my forehead with the back of it.
A low growling sound came from the front of the vehicle, drawing my gaze to Chris. Was it my imagination, or had his eye color switched to honey gold? For a moment, he stopped speaking and stared at me strangely, much like the lioness panting in the shade.
“That’s odd,” Meghan whispered. “Thor looks like he’s starving and you’re the main course.”
Chapter Two
Dropping my arm, I squirmed in my seat. Meghan had a point. The man looked ravenous.
I’m not exactly prom-queen material, but I’m not ugly. My stomach is flat, my hips flare just enough, and my chest fills out a T-shirt nicely—or so I’ve been told. But my eye teeth aren’t exactly in line with my front teeth, and my hair is the color of dark coffee. I may be pretty enough, but I’m not a blond bombshell.
That’s why I couldn’t fathom Chris’s sudden attraction. The gleam in his eyes was so hot, my stomach flip-flopped. Everyone in the Jeep turned to look at what he’d seen, and I glanced back too, hoping they wouldn’t realize where his attention lay.
David started the engine and we were jolted away from the pride. Some of the tourists complained about not seeing the cubs, but the driver grabbed Chris’s hand, tugging him down roughly to exchange a few low words. How strange.
“Oh wow, Brit. Did you see how he stared at you? Did you flash your bra at him?”
I scoffed. “Must be the marks on my arm.”
Lifting my hand, I studied the small blotches. I’d had them as long as I could remember, and although they resembled tattoos, they were actually birthmarks. Starting at the knob of my wrist bone, four tiny paw prints trailed toward my elbow. The females in my family shared the same marks, but a doctor had assured us they were harmless. Just a concentration of melanin, he’d said.
Still, I didn’t think a tattoo would cause Chris to look at me like that.
David spoke to him, wagging a finger as he drove. I caught one or two phrases over the loud noise, but they weren’t speaking in English.
With a closed expression, Chris continued the tour but didn’t look at me at all. Not even once. As soon as we reached the lodge, he said an abrupt good-bye to the group and hopped out to stride inside.
Meghan grumbled. “I wanted to meet him. He should have waited for us.”
Peeved, I had to agree. “Guess he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
Climbing over the seats, I exited the vehicle. David had remained and he nodded at me, his white shirt a stark contrast against his dark skin. I said good-bye and hurried away from the Jeep, but his gaze followed me as we entered the lobby of the game lodge.
Once inside, Meghan exclaimed, “This is more like it,” as she accepted an ice-cold glass of fruit juice from a waitress. Giving the woman a grateful smile, I took a glass from the same tray.
An employee with vivid auburn hair and an amazing tan stepped out from behind the lobby counter. Wearing a light summer dress, she looked cool and elegant. Her rubber heels squeaked on the floor as she headed toward us.
“Hi, my name is Sarie. Are you girls enjoying yourselves?”
At the sight of her bright smile, my moodiness lifted. We were on vacation, and I’d traveled too far to let a tour guide’s surliness spoil my African vacation. My mom had paid a lot of money for this trip, and I was determined to enjoy every second of it.
It was the week before Christmas, but instead of being bundled up and freezing in New York, I was walking around in shorts. The Southern Hemisphere was in the throes of summer, much to our delight, but the only hint of Christmas I’d seen were some sparkly lights and the occasional strand of tinsel strung here or there. Here, the Christmas trees consisted of painted white branches nailed together in triangular shapes. In such a sunny place, there was no need to add lights and glitter—the weather created the holiday spirit with no effort at all.
Meghan fell into conversation with Sarie while I sipped my drink. Still hoping to catch a glimpse of Chris, I allowed my gaze to wander the lobby.
The lodge’s entrance was large and blessedly cool. Two African employees stood behind the reception desk that ran the length of the wall. The counter was built of dark sheets of wood that were smoothly polished, and intricate tree lattices decorated the front panels. Indigenous plants rested in vases along the shiny surface, together with woven baskets filled with pamphlets.
A life-sized elephant carving stood to the left, complete with twinkle lights draped around its neck for the holiday, and a gathering of sandstone statues were arranged to the side of the slate floor. Reeds filled an assembly of brass buckets near the reception desk, and wooden beams crisscrossed under a high thatched roof. The faint smell of tar and dried grass sweetened the air.
When Sarie mentioned there was going to be a party later tonight, I turned to face her. “Sounds like fun. What time?”
“At six. You’re scheduled for a massage at our spa, and after that, we’ll have a spit braai for dinner.”
Meghan’s brow pinched in confusion. “What’s a spit braai?”
“Oops.” Sarie laughed. “Spit braai is a South African word. We’ll be roasting meat on a rotisserie outside. A light lunch is being served in the restaurant now, but do keep space for tonight’s meal,” she said with a wink.
As she spoke, my stomach growled. “Must be all the fresh air. I’m ravenous.” Placing my empty glass on the counter, I tugged on Meghan’s arm. “Come on, let’s freshen up for lunch.”
We left the lobby and walked into the sunshine outside, headed for our quarters. Each of us had our own luxurious thatched-roof cottage close to the lobby and restaurant. Thirty other stone-walled cottages on stilts surrounded the lodge. Some were family sized, and others, like ours, shared a small deck and splash pool.
My mother had picked the best game lodge she could find, saying she wanted us to have the vacation of a lifetime. As far as we could tell, she’d been adopted from this region of South Africa, but couldn’t trace her roots accurately. Her practice in New York was busy in December, and she’d asked me to bring photos and stories about the place until she could visit. So far, the vacation had exceeded my expectations.
“Don’t you just love the view?” Meghan sighed as she walked into my room.
Through the glass door, I could see Kaneba Lake framed by majestic hills in the distance. The cottages were elevated, and a series of wooden walkways led to the lake where direct access was blocked by high thorn bushes.
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