by Ava Miles
“I’ll ignore the ‘older woman’ comment since it’s been such an incredible day.”
He raised their arms as the song ended, and before she could protest, he dipped her.
She clutched his forearms but didn’t panic. “The first time I dipped Michaela, she freaked out and took us both down. I don’t know who laughed harder.”
“Did you dance growing up?” Clara asked him as the first strains of “A Kiss To Build A Dream On” spread through the camp.
He caught Simon swaying as he broke more twigs for the fire. Joseph was staring off into the horizon, likely watching for Sironka. The lanterns cast a soft glow now that sunset was giving way to darker shades of blue and inky black. Looking around, at Simon and Arthur and Michaela, listening to the laughter floating on the wind from the mess tent, he realized everyone seemed happy. The harmony was as tangible as the gentle wind blowing across the savannah. The change was refreshing, and he decided to enjoy the journey, not only Michaela’s presence and the thought of their ultimate prize.
“I grew up around a lot of break dancing and hip-hop,” Boyd said. “I suppose I’ve always liked music and dancing for what it told me about people and their culture. It’s something I love to learn about when I’m traveling. Perhaps we can have Jaali play us something later. He likes singing Benga, a popular music from the late 1940s to 60s.”
“What’s it sound like?” Clara asked.
“Benga is pretty cool, actually. It incorporates traditional dance rhythms from the local tribes with traditional stringed instruments like the nyatiti, a type of lyre, and the orutu, their version of a fiddle.”
“I can’t wait to hear it,” she said, and he believed her.
When he’d first met her, he hadn’t quite known what to make of her. She was elegant and privileged, certainly, but she had some strange quirks—the eighty-year-old butler and her easy way with Marvin.
After today, he was sure she had the heart of an adventurer, something she likely hadn’t had much opportunity to indulge in given she’d been born at a time when few paths were open to women save nursing, secretarial work, and being a wife and mother. It sounded like the wife part hadn’t gone particularly well the first time around, from what she’d said about buying a boa constrictor to keep her husband out. That comment had surprised him so much, he’d hesitated before announcing his presence on the plane.
“You know,” he decided to add, “we have something in common, Clara. Besides your lovely niece.”
“We do?” She swayed in time with him, her long hair trailing around her shoulders in the breeze.
“I used to keep snakes when I was a kid.”
“The nonpoisonous kind, I imagine.”
“Yeah, although I always wondered about raising the poisonous kind.” He paused, thinking for a moment, then added, “We didn’t live in a great neighborhood. Someone broke into our house one day while my mom was at work and I was at school, and the next day my class went on a field trip to Redwood Regional Park. A kid came across a Pacific Gopher snake. Not the least bit dangerous and yet everyone lost their…”
“Shit? I’m familiar with crass phrases, Boyd. Continue.”
Again, she surprised him. He nodded. “Indeed. I caught that snake and brought it to my teacher, begging to do a school project on it. She agreed. When I was studying it on the front stoop of my house the next day, I noticed the people passing by seemed totally creeped out.”
“I imagine seeing a young boy holding a snake might do that,” she said.
“Exactly! I figured a snake might be as good as a dog for protecting our house, so I caught a few more for our backyard and house over the next month. My prize was a California king snake. It had white stripes on a black body and topped out at four feet. Everyone was scared of him.”
He led her into a turn, which she executed flawlessly. “Why didn’t you get a dog?”
He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze when she turned to face him again. Usually, people were so weirded out by the story, they didn’t ask follow-up questions, or they did, and the questions were all about the snakes themselves. No one had ever asked him this. “We couldn’t afford the dog food. I found a stray when I was eight, but my mom got upset about the money it would cost to feed him, so she brought him to a shelter.” He’d cried like a baby after she’d taken the dog away.
Clara put her hand on his arm. “That must have been very hard on you and your mother.”
He’d never imagined it being rough on his mother. She’d worked so hard to keep everything going, he couldn’t imagine she’d allow sentiment over a stray dog to drag her down.
“What did you name your king snake?” she asked.
“Conan,” he said, “after Conan the Barbarian. I figured he’d have a snake like that.”
“A good name,” she said. “Although I’ve never seen the movie. Arthur! Come here and dance with me. Jaali is about to bring dinner out.”
“As you wish, my love,” Arthur called.
She took Boyd’s arm and hauled him over to the other dancers. With as much subtlety as a stampede, she nudged Michaela into Boyd’s arms. “Niece, dance with Boyd. I’m growing to like him more and more.” She stepped into Arthur’s embrace, pressing her cheek to his.
Michaela stood gaping at him, her body warm and soft in all the right places. At five ten, she was tall for a woman, and he’d always loved how perfectly she fit against him. “Stardust” was playing, and he put his hand on her back and held out his other hand. “Shall we?”
She put some space between them before taking his hand. “Appropriate physical contact only.”
He snorted. “What in the hell is that, exactly?”
“Well, my mom tells a story about one of her school dances… A nun, Sister Margaret Richard, I think, came up to her best friend and her date and thrust a ruler between their pelvises after dragging them apart, saying, ‘Come now, you two miscreants—leave room for the Holy Spirit.’”
“You’re kidding me!”
“Could I make that up?” she countered as he led her into a turn as the song came to an end. She resisted for a moment, and he had to urge her into the circle with his other hand.
The next song started, and he felt his lips twitch. “Any objection to dancing to ‘Makin’ Whoopie’?”
“It’s not like the song inspires lustful thoughts,” she said as she matched his slow and easy rhythm.
Maybe not. But being close to her did inspire lustful thoughts. “In other times, we would have bumped and grinded to this one pretty good,” he said in an undertone.
“Those days are behind us, Boyd,” she said softly.
“Sadly.” Dare he hope there was a strain of regret in her voice? He tipped her chin up so their gazes met. “Michaela, I’ll do anything to get you back. Missing you every day was… I never want to be without you again. When I woke up this morning, knowing I was going to see you, I felt…hopeful. You’re my baby elephant.”
Her gaze flew to his, and he saw the war between longing and fear in her eyes.
He dropped her hands, sensing she needed a moment. Sometimes it was best to step away and let things simmer.
“Thanks for the dance, Mickey.” He put his hand over his heart. “Maybe you’ll consider a walk with me after we eat. I’d like to share more about our trip upriver. Jaali! Are you ready with dinner?”
He strode off to the mess tent, contented by the shocked look he’d seen on her face.
Right now he’d bet she’d join him on that walk.
Chapter 9
Dinner couldn’t end soon enough.
No one was in a bad mood, per se, but there was an unsettled feeling in the air. Her uncle kept squirming in his chair, his backside clearly bruised after a day of rough riding; her aunt seemed lost in thought, whether from fatigue or something else; Hargreaves mentioned the murder mystery he was reading was a real nail-biter; Joseph seemed to be scanning the horizon even though darkness had fallen; and in the soft lanter
n light, Boyd looked like a lion hungry for his prey.
Her.
She was doing her best not to stare back. When he got primal like this, it was hard to ignore the answering flutters in her belly, and even harder not to think of all the places they could have sex—in her tent, against the Rover, pretty much anywhere. She’d gone braless tonight because her breasts felt too sensitive to encase. He’d noticed, of course, and the force of his heated gaze had tightened her nipples.
Ugh! She was supposed to be Dr. Michaela on this trip, not Mickey. She should be pushing him to tell her more about the game plan.
Except she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d said she was his baby elephant or his invitation for a walk after dinner.
A walk with him sounded exciting.
And dangerous.
Finally, Jaali brought out the fruit for dessert. Although it was passion fruit, of all things, and Michaela’s mind kept conjuring images of Boyd feeding it to her, drizzling juice over her lips and licking them clean. Oh, my God, she was boiling inside and fanning herself would only make it obvious.
He seemed to know it too by that wicked little quirk of his mouth. She had the urge to stick her tongue out to be contrary, but he’d find that arousing probably. He had a weird sense of humor.
“Well, I’m off to bed,” Joseph said, rising from his seat. “I’ll bid everyone good night.”
The entire table murmured, “Good night,” and moments later, Hargreaves stood. “Madam, do you require anything else?”
Aunt Clara shook herself. “No, please be excused, Hargreaves. Enjoy your book.”
“Thank you, Madam. Good night to everyone.”
Again, the rest of the group, Michaela included, bid him good night. Her uncle pushed a hand to the table to steady himself as he rose from the chair. His muffled groan made her frown. “Can I walk you to your tent, Uncle?”
“Gads, no,” he said, slashing his hand through the air, “leave a man a little dignity. Clara, love, you’ve been somewhere else all night. Let’s get you off to bed.”
“I’ve been thinking about the baby elephant and the incredible story Boyd told me earlier,” her aunt said, coming to her feet and putting her arm around her husband. “I didn’t have the chance to ask you, Boyd. Do you still have Conan and the others?”
Michaela couldn’t help but stare at Boyd, shocked by her aunt’s allusion to Conan. Boyd rarely shared that story with people he’d just met. “Afraid not, Clara. Marvin’s my only pet these days.”
He glanced at her and gave a slight shake of the head, as if warning her not to give the real reason for why he no longer had the snakes. Some thieves had broken into their house one day and shot all the guard snakes so they could take the TV.
“Well, Marvin seems a good soul,” Clara said. “I’d like to make friends with him before we depart and head our separate ways. I’ve never held a gecko before. I’ll have to learn more about them.”
Michaela admired her aunt’s adventurous spirit. She never balked from a new experience. “Tokay geckos aren’t the easiest to befriend, Aunt.”
“Didn’t a baby elephant come up to me today?” Gesturing to Boyd, she added, “How did you come by Marvin?”
“I found him in Indonesia. A truck full of reptiles had been smashed into a tree and abandoned. Poachers on the run, I’m guessing. He was the only survivor. I heard something croaking softly, sounding half-dead, and I looked in the back and found Marvin. He wasn’t more than a baby. I couldn’t leave him there, so I took him along and hoped he’d live.”
“Once Boyd got the proper approvals, he kept Marvin with him nonstop for the next week and took care of him,” she said, thinking of his determination to see the animal make it. “The vet later said Marvin wouldn’t be alive if not for Boyd.”
Boyd rolled his eyes. “I did what anyone would. It took a while for Marvin to trust me after that trauma, but I won him over.”
You always do, she thought.
“But sure, I’d be happy to introduce you two again, Clara. Only, if he doesn’t take to you at first, it’s not personal.”
“I did well enough with Peanut before his unceremonious removal,” Aunt Clara said. “We should be fine. Tell Jaali that dinner was delicious. I need to get Arthur to our tent while he can still walk.”
“I’m good enough to walk,” her uncle blustered. “Only stiff as hell. Usually that’s not something a man complains about. Right, Boyd?”
“Depends on the location of the stiffness,” Boyd said. He laughed, and Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur both did the same. Michaela didn’t join them. “Good night, you two.”
“Good night,” Michaela said, rising and kissing them both on the cheek.
Her aunt and uncle moved slowly to the tent, and Michaela winced. “I forgot about the body’s reaction to a full day of rough riding.”
His lips twitched, and she threw her paper napkin at him.
“I didn’t mean that. Jeez, Boyd.” Of course, her traitorous brain reminded her of what it was like to ride him, his muscular chest under her hands. She broke into an all-over sweat.
His shoulders were shaking as he rose. “Let’s give Jaali room to clean up. He won’t start unless everyone is gone.” He met and held her gaze. “So, Mickey, are we to have a walk tonight?”
So he wasn’t going to pressure her to be alone with him. Somehow that made it harder to resist. And she did want to know more about their trip.
She glanced at the sea of black surrounding their camp. “Will it be safe?” Even with the half moon and the blaze of stars in the sky, everything was cast in darkness. But darkness didn’t affect all species equally. Lions, leopards, porcupines, civet cats, white-tailed mongoose, aardvarks, and cape hares would all be able to see just fine.
“We’re not walking too far out of the camp,” Boyd said. “You know I’d never put you in jeopardy. We’ll bring Marvin.”
“All right, but I want details, Boyd.”
“As you wish.” He grinned, and then he was striding off, so quickly she wondered if he was worried she’d change her mind. She waved at Jaali, who lingered in the open flap of the mess tent, and he lifted his hand in response.
“Dinner was wonderful, Jaali. Everyone wanted me to tell you so. Your butter chicken made me so happy.”
“Thank you, Dr. Michaela. Your uncle seems less pleased with Indian food, something Mr. Hargreaves told me not to worry about. But I plan to make matoke with beef to please him.” He gave a short bow before heading to the table. “I will clean up now and then find my bed.”
Michaela studied Boyd as he reappeared with Marvin resting on his chest. “He’ll probably want to transfer to you. Just giving you a heads-up since he moves—”
Marvin scurried down Boyd’s arm toward Michaela. She extended her arm, letting Marvin begin his climb to his favorite position, nestled between her breasts. “If you make one rude comment—”
“My lips are zipped,” Boyd said, grabbing a lantern off the table. “Thanks for dinner, Jaali. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“You watch out for the lion out there, Dr. Boyd. I heard him calling earlier. He’s hungry.”
Her stomach flipped a little. Usually lions avoided firelight, but they’d be on the periphery of camp. “Do you think we should still go?”
“Marvin will sound if the cat is close. Even from his relaxed position.”
“If Marvin weren’t so comfortable, I’d sock you for that.” The gecko gave a soft croak. And nestled closer. “Still, let’s not take the chance.”
“Fine. My tent or yours?”
Had that been his plan all along? No, he couldn’t order up a lion, nor would he.
“I have maps in my room,” he added, gesturing to his tent. “I imagine I could scare up a cup of tea for you too. You like a cup before bed. Always said it helped you sleep.”
They were wasting time. “Your tent then, but if you try anything…”
He held up his hands. “I know, I know. C
ome on, Mickey. I promise I won’t initiate anything…”
She didn’t miss his meaning, but it didn’t stop her from following him into the tent. She could control herself, right? He was so close behind her, she could feel his body heat. Not a good start.
The flap closed, and he set the lantern on the floor by his bed. Like usual, his mosquito netting looked like a tornado had hit it. Boyd thrashed around a bit when he slept, and his big body often got tangled in the netting.
To banish herself of that image, she said, “A twin? How is it you haven’t fallen onto the floor with the way you thrash around?” Plus, he was six four, but she wasn’t going to mention that. He’d turn his “size” into something suggestive, and they didn’t need any more sexual tension rising between them. It was bad enough she was in his tent after dark. What were Jaali and the others going to think? Oh, she should have stayed at the table with him, but then Jaali would have had to wait longer.
“Maybe we should go back out—”
“It’s a bit tight, but I don’t…” Boyd paused, stopping short of the double entendre, then said, “Before I tell you about the next leg of our trip, I’m going to ask you to do your best to let me finish and not overreact.”
She snapped to attention, and Marvin croaked. “Sorry, buddy. What did you do, Boyd?”
“Sit down and I’ll tell you, Doc.”
“You first.”
He sat, a small smile playing on his lips—oh, he knew her game—and she pushed the netting aside and sat a few feet away from him.
The lantern light in the tent was a little too like mood lighting to serve her purposes. “Don’t you have another lantern in here?”
He rose and lit it. “Better? Do you want to put on a nighttime puppet show like in old times? Remember how we used to joke about the things people had to do for entertainment before TV?”
“I remember,” she said, cutting him off. “Time to confess, Boyd. Marvin, if he doesn’t tell the truth, I’m throwing him to the lion outside.” She glanced up in victory. “See, he croaked, which means he agrees with me.”
Boyd laughed. “First up, I didn’t like concealing things from you, but when Connor proposed his terms and included Iggie in the mix, I didn’t like it. Then he added your relatives—who are nice people, I’m discovering—but I didn’t know them or see why we needed a journalist to write a story. I felt like this whole trip and everything I wanted out of it was slipping through my fingers.”
