“We’ll stay here until it’s completely dark, then go into town,” Grant decided, dropping to the ground and stretching out flat on his back. Jane stared at the twinkling lights of the town, torn between a vague uneasiness and an eagerness to take advantage of the comforts a town offered. She wanted a bath, and to sleep in a bed, but after so much time spent alone with Grant, the thought of once more being surrounded by other people made her wary. She couldn’t relax the way Grant did, so she remained on her feet, her face tense and her hands clenched.
“You might as well rest, instead of twitching like a nervous cat.”
“I am nervous. Are we going on to Limon tonight?”
“Depends on what we find when we get into town.”
She glared down at him in sudden irritation. He was a master at avoiding straight answers. It was so dark that she couldn’t make out his features; he was only a black form on the ground, but she was certain that he was aware of her anger, and that the corner of his mouth was turning up in that almost-smile of his. She was too tired to find much humor in it, though, so she walked away from him a few paces and sat down, leaning her head on her drawn-up knees and closing her eyes.
There wasn’t even a whisper of sound to warn her, but suddenly he was behind her, his strong hands massaging the tight muscles of her shoulders and neck. “Would you like to sleep in a real bed tonight?” he murmured in her ear.
“And take a real bath. And eat real food. Yes, I’d like that,” she said, unaware of how wistful her tone was.
“A town this size probably has a hotel of some sort, but we can’t risk going there, not looking the way we do. I’ll try to find someone who takes in boarders and won’t ask many questions.”
Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet and draped his arm over her shoulder. “Let’s go, then. A bed sounds good to me, too.”
Walking across the field, ever closer to the beckoning lights, Jane became more conscious of how she looked, and she pushed her fingers through her tangled hair. She knew that her clothes were filthy, and that her face was probably dirty. “No one is going to let us in,” she predicted.
“Money has a way of making people look past the dirt.”
She glanced up at him in surprise. “You have money?”
“A good Boy Scout is always prepared.”
In the distance, the peculiarly mournful wail of a train whistle floated into the air, reinforcing the fact that they’d left the isolation of the rain forest behind. Oddly, Jane felt almost nakedly vulnerable, and she moved closer to Grant. “This is stupid, but I’m scared,” she whispered.
“It’s just a mild form of culture shock. You’ll feel better when you’re in a tub of hot water.”
They kept to the fringes of the town, in the shadows. It appeared to be a bustling little community. Some of the streets were paved, and the main thoroughfare was lined with prosperous-looking stores. People walked and laughed and chatted, and from somewhere came the unmistakable sound of a jukebox, another element of civilization that jarred her nerves. The universally known red and white sign of a soft drink swung over a sidewalk, making her feel as if she had emerged from a time warp. This was definitely culture shock.
Keeping her pushed behind him, Grant stopped and carried on a quiet conversation with a rheumy-eyed old man who seemed reluctant to be bothered. Finally Grant thanked him and walked away, still keeping a firm grip on Jane’s arm. “His sister-in-law’s first cousin’s daughter takes in boarders,” he told her, and Jane swallowed a gasp of laughter.
“Do you know where his sister-in-law’s first cousin’s daughter lives?”
“Sure. Down this street, turn left, then right, follow the alley until it dead ends in a courtyard.”
“If you say so.”
Of course he found the boarding house easily, and Jane leaned against the white adobe wall that surrounded the courtyard while he rang the bell and talked with the small, plump woman who answered the door. She seemed reluctant to admit such exceedingly grimy guests. Grant passed her a wad of bills and explained that he and his wife had been doing field research for an American pharmaceutical company, but their vehicle had broken down, forcing them to walk in from their camp. Whether it was the money or the tale of woe that swayed Señora Trejos, her face softened and she opened the grill, letting them in.
Seeing the tautness of Jane’s face, Señora Trejos softened even more. “Poor lamb,” she cooed, ignoring Jane’s dirty state and putting her plump arm around the young woman’s sagging shoulders. “You are exhausted, no? I have a nice cool bedroom with a soft bed for you and the señor, and I will bring you something good to eat. You will feel better then?”
Jane couldn’t help smiling into the woman’s kind dark eyes. “That sounds wonderful, all of it,” she managed in her less-than-fluent Spanish. “But most of all, I need a bath. Would that be possible?”
“But of course!” Señora Trejos beamed with pride. “Santos and I, we have the water heated by the tank. He brings the fuel for the heating from San Jose.”
Chatting away, she led them inside her comfortable house, with cool tiles on the floors and soothing white walls. “The upstairs rooms are taken,” she said apologetically. “I have only the one room below the stairs, but it is nice and cool, and closer to the conveniences.”
“Thank you, Señora Trejos,” Grant said. “The downstairs room will more than make us happy.”
It did. It was small, with bare floors and plain white walls, and there was no furniture except for the wood-framed double bed, a cane chair by the lone, gracefully arched window, and a small wooden washstand that held a pitcher and bowl. Jane gazed at the bed with undisguised longing. It looked so cool and comfortable, with fat fluffy pillows.
Grant thanked Señora Trejos again; then she went off to prepare them something to eat, and they were alone. Jane glanced at him and found that he was watching her steadily. Somehow, being alone with him in a bedroom felt different from being alone with him in a jungle. There, their seclusion had been accepted. Here there was the sensation of closing out the world, of coming together in greater intimacy.
“You take the first turn at the bath,” he finally said. “Just don’t go to sleep in the tub.”
Jane didn’t waste time protesting. She searched the lower floor, following her nose, until she found Señora Trejos happily puttering about the kitchen. “Pardon, señora,” she said haltingly. She didn’t know all the words needed to explain her shortage of a robe or anything to wear after taking a bath, but Señora Trejos caught on immediately. A few minutes later Jane had a plain white nightgown thrust into her hands and was shown to the señora’s prized bathroom.
The bathroom had cracked tile and a deep, old-fashioned tub with curved claw feet, but when she turned on the water it gushed out in a hot flood. Sighing in satisfaction, Jane quickly unbuckled the backpack from her belt and set it out of the way, then stripped off her clothes and got into the tub, unwilling to wait until it was full. The heat seeped into her sore muscles and a moan of pleasure escaped her. She would have liked to soak in the tub for hours, but Grant was waiting for his own bath, so she didn’t allow herself to lean against the high back and relax. Quickly she washed away the layers of grime, unable to believe how good it felt to be clean again. Then she washed her hair, sighing in relief as the strands came unmatted and once again slipped through her fingers like wet silk.
Hurrying, she wrapped her hair in a towel and got her safety razor out of the backpack. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she shaved her legs and under her arms, then smoothed moisturizer into her skin. A smile kept tugging at her mouth as she thought of spending the night in Grant’s arms again. She was going to be clean and sweet-smelling, her skin silky. After all, it wasn’t going to be easy to win a warrior’s love, and she was going to use all the weapons at her disposal.
She brushed her teeth, then combed out her wet hair and pulled the white nightgown over her head, hoping that she wouldn’t meet any of Señora Trejos’s
other boarders on the short trip back to her room. The señora had told her to leave her clothes on the bathroom floor, that she would see that they were washed, so Jane got the backpack and hurried down the hall to the room where Grant waited.
He had closed the shutters over the arched window and was leaning with one shoulder propped against the wall, declining to sit in the single chair. He looked up at her entrance, and the inky pupils at the center of his golden irises expanded until there was only a thin ring of amber circling the black. Jane paused, dropping the pack beside the bed, feeling abruptly shy, despite the tempestuous lovemaking she’d shared with this man. He looked at her as if he were about to pounce on her, and she found herself crossing her arms over her breasts, aware that her nakedness was fully apparent beneath the thin nightgown. She cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly dry. “The bathroom is all yours.”
He straightened slowly, not taking his eyes from her. “Why don’t you go on to bed?”
“I’d rather wait for you,” she whispered.
“I’ll wake you up when I come to bed.” The intensity of his gaze promised her that she wasn’t going to sleep alone that night.
“My hair…I have to dry my hair.”
He nodded and left the room, and Jane sat down on the chair weakly, shaking inside from the way he’d looked at her. Bending over, she rubbed her hair briskly, then began to brush it dry. It was so thick and long that it was still damp when Grant came back into the room and stood silently, watching her as she sat bent over, her slender arms curving as she drew the brush through the dark mass. She sat up, tossing her head to fling her hair back over her shoulders, and for a moment they simply stared at each other.
They had made love before, but now sensual awareness was zinging between them like an electric current. Without even touching each other, they were both becoming aroused, their heartbeats quickening, their skin growing hot.
He had shaved, probably using the razor she’d left in the bathroom. It was the first time she’d seen him without several days’ growth of beard, and the clean, hard lines of his scarred face made her breath catch. He was naked except for a towel knotted around his lean waist, and as she watched he pulled the towel free and dropped it to the floor. Reaching behind him, he locked the door. “Are you ready for bed?”
“My hair…isn’t quite dry.”
“Leave it,” he said, coming toward her.
The brush dropped to the floor as he caught her hand and pulled her up. Instantly she was in his arms, lifted off her feet by his fierce embrace. Their mouths met hungrily, and her fingers tangled in his water-darkened hair, holding him to her. His mouth was fresh and hot, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth in a kiss that made her whimper as currents of desire sizzled her nerves.
He was hard against her, his manhood pushing against her softness, his hands kneading her hips and rubbing her over him. Jane pulled her mouth free, gasping, and dropped her head to his broad shoulder. She couldn’t contain the wild pleasure he was evoking, as if her body were out of control, already reaching for the peak that his arousal promised. She’d been quite content to live celibately for years, the passion in her unawakened until she met Grant. He was as wild and beautiful and free as the majestic jaguars that melted silently through the tangled green jungle. The wildness in him demanded a response, and she was helpless to restrain it. He didn’t have to patiently build her passion; one kiss and she trembled against him, empty and aching and ready for him, her breasts swollen and painful, her body growing wet and soft.
“Let’s get this thing off you,” he whispered, pulling at the nightgown and easing it up. Reluctantly she released him, and he pulled the gown over her head, dropping it over the chair; then she was back in his arms, and he carried her to the bed.
Their naked bodies moved together, and there was no more waiting. He surged into her, and she cried out a little from the delicious shock of it. Catching the small cry with his mouth, he lifted her legs and placed them around his waist, then began to move more deeply into her.
It was like the night before. She gave no thought to anything but the man with shoulders so broad that they blocked out the light. The bed was soft beneath them, the sheets cool and smooth, and the rhythmic creak of the springs in time with his movements was accompanied by the singing of insects outside the window. Time meant nothing. There was only his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, the slow thrusts that went deep inside her and touched off a wildfire of sensation, until they strained together in frenzied pleasure and the sheets were no longer cool, but warm from their damp, heated flesh.
Then it was quiet again, and he lay heavily on her, drawing in deep breaths while her hands moved over his powerful back. Her lips trembled with the words of love that she wanted to give him, but she held them back. All her instincts told her that he wouldn’t want to know, and she didn’t want to do anything to spoil their time together.
Perhaps he had given her something anyway, if not his love, something at least as infinitely precious. As her sensitive fingertips explored the deep valley of his spine, she wondered if he had given her his baby. A tremor of pleasure rippled down her body, and she held him closer, hoping that her body would be receptive to his seed.
He stirred, reaching out to turn off the lamp, and in the darkness he moved to lie beside her. She curled against his side, her head on his shoulder, and after a moment he gave a low chuckle.
“Why don’t you just save time and get on top of me now?” he suggested, scooping her up and settling her on his chest.
Jane gave a sigh of deep satisfaction, stretching out on him and looping her arm around his neck. With her face pressed against his throat she was comfortable and safe, as if she’d found a sheltering harbor. “I love you,” she said silently, moving her lips without sound against his throat.
* * *
THEY WOKE WITH THE bright early morning sun coming through the slats of the shutters. Leaving Jane stretching and grousing on the bed, Grant got up and opened the shutters, letting the rosy light pour into the room. When he turned, he saw the way the light glowed on her warm-toned skin, turning her nipples to apricot, catching the glossy lights in her dark hair. Her face was flushed, her eyes still heavy with sleep.
Suddenly his body throbbed, and he couldn’t bear to be separated from her by even the width of the small room. He went back to the bed and pulled her under him, then watched the way her face changed as he slowly eased into her, watched the radiance that lit her. Something swelled in his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe, and as he lost himself in the soft depths of her body he had one last, glaringly clear thought: she’d gotten too close to him, and letting her go was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done.
* * *
HE DRESSED, PULLING ON the freshly washed clothes that one of Señora Trejos’s daughters had brought, along with a tray of fruit, bread and cheese. Jane flushed wildly when she realized that Señora Trejos must have brought a tray to them the night before, then discreetly left when she heard the sounds they had been making. A quick glance at Grant told her that he’d had the same thought, because the corner of his mouth was twitching in amusement.
The señora had also sent along a soft white off-the-shoulder blouse, and Jane donned it with pleasure, more than glad to discard her tattered black shirt. After selecting a piece of orange from the tray, she bit into the juicy fruit as she watched him pull his dark green undershirt over his head.
“You’re going to be pretty noticeable in those camouflage fatigues,” she said, poking a bit of the orange into his mouth.
“I know.” He quickly kissed her orange-sticky lips. “Put the shirt in your pack and be ready to go when I get back.”
“Get back? Where are you going?”
“I’m going to try to get some sort of transport. It won’t be as easy this time.”
“We could take the train,” she pointed out.
“The rifle would be a mite conspicuous, honey.”
“
Why can’t I go with you?”
“Because you’re safer here.”
“The last time you left me, I got into trouble,” she felt obliged to remind him.
He didn’t appreciate the reminder. He scowled down at her as he reached for a spear of melon. “If you’ll just keep your little butt where I tell you to, you’ll be fine.”
“I’m fine when I’m with you.”
“Damn it, stop arguing with me!”
“I’m not arguing. I’m pointing out some obvious facts! You’re the one who’s arguing!”
His eyes were yellow fire. He bent down until they were almost nose to nose, his control under severe stress. His teeth were clenched together as he said, evenly spacing the words out, “If you make it home without having the worst spanking of your life, it’ll be a miracle.”
“I’ve never had a spanking in my life,” she protested.
“It shows!”
She flounced into the chair and pouted. Grant’s hands clenched; then he reached for her and pulled her out of the chair, hauling her up to him for a deep, hard kiss. “Be good, for a change,” he said, aware that he was almost pleading with her. “I’ll be back in an hour—”
“Or so!” she finished in unison with him. “All right, I’ll wait! But I don’t like it!”
He left before he completely lost his temper with her, and Jane munched on more of the fruit, terribly grateful for something fresh to eat. Deciding that he’d meant only for her to stay in the house, not in the room, she first got everything ready for them to leave, as he’d instructed, then sought out the señora and had a pleasant chat with her. The woman was bustling around the kitchen preparing food for her boarders, while two of her daughters diligently cleaned the house and did a mountain of laundry. Jane had her arms deep in a bowl of dough when Grant returned.