‘No, I mean it. Jumpy.’ He seemed to be closer still. ‘Skittish. Takes fright.’
‘I don’t take fright.’ She inched back further against the hard railing of the Jeep.
‘Yes, you do,’ he said softly. ‘That’s OK. I’m patient enough to stalk my prey.’
She refused to be his prey. ‘Elephants are vegetarians.’
‘Well, then, I guess I must really be a lion.’
Ana lifted her chin. ‘Actually more often it’s the lioness who hunts.’
‘Really? Go on, then,’ he murmured. ‘Show me your claws.’
She pulled the last millimetre she could away.
‘See. I was right first time.’ Somehow he took up even more of the cramped space. ‘A little, jumpy gazelle.’
She sucked her tummy in and spun on the spot, turned her back to him to lean forward over the rail, determinedly focused on the view. No more verbal sparring—he always seemed to win.
She breathed in the sights: the flamingos in the distance on the lake, the hippos hanging out in the water, the hyenas creepily stalking around. And he seemed to let it lie. Pointed out shots for her, took pictures of her. Grinned with her when they found the lion, stretched in the shade, who didn’t seem to care about the humans standing up in the open-topped Jeep with their cameras clicking like crazed paparazzi. She couldn’t believe she was so close to it, and her heart stopped completely when a cub came into view with its mother.
‘Look, Seb!’ she whispered, turning to make sure he’d seen.
He wasn’t looking at the animals. He was looking at her with the fierce stillness and concentration of a hunter. But it wasn’t the animals in danger.
‘Are you taking anti-malaria pills?’ she asked curtly. ‘I’m thinking you might be running a fever or something. You have this glazed look.’
He reached out and put the back of his hand against her brow. ‘But you’re the one looking hot.’
She ducked back out of the way. ‘There’s no cure for you, is there?’
He grimaced. ‘Apparently not.’
Seb sat squashed up to her for all the horrendous drive past the campsite of the previous night, and all the way back to the snake park where the truck was waiting. Hours of driving and having his length pressed to her. The frustration was going to be the death of him. Hard up against his body he could feel each ragged inhalation as she tried to regulate her breathing. She strained back from him. Looking down, he could see the outline of her nipples pointing up at him through the thin stretchy bikini top. He could see every little indentation of what he knew were deliciously large areolae, and the tight hard nubs that he ached to nibble on.
Desire surged through him, it had been so damn long. And he knew she felt it too—they were dancing around it, moving ever closer with words and looks.
But they weren’t suited. He’d never forget the hurt in her face when she’d asked him if he’d only married her to get his partnership. What had she thought? That it was true love? OK, yeah, she had thought that. But while they’d been having a wild and fabulous fling, that was all it was. He’d been blinded by lust—both for her and for his promotion—and the marriage had just been an opportunity to secure them—for a while at least. But as if he really believed in it? He spent his life finalising the end for so many marriages she couldn’t have thought he’d meant it—it had been for
his work. And his own parents had taught him time and time again how easily such vows were broken and forgotten. But she hadn’t known about that, had she? He hadn’t told her a thing about himself.
And the one thing he couldn’t forget now was the feel of her. He tumbled out of the Jeep and walked to the truck to get a drink. Cool himself down from the inside out before he tried to burn more of the bloody frustration with some football. But there was no way in hell football could burn off the energy in his body.
Ana assembled the tent in record time, desperate to build herself a hidey-hole even if for only a few minutes. Quickly she crawled inside and then zipped up the flap. She breathed hard, sweating. A day jammed up hard next to Sebastian without actually having him was enough to exhaust any woman. Her insides were all shook up and it wasn’t from the bumpy road. She stared at the faded green tent fabric. Despite the tiredness, sleep felt miles away. Memories and words, both said and unsaid, spun round and round in her brain like a mad merry-go-round.
She ached to shut it down; even more she ached to be able to switch off the ‘on’ button that Seb’s mere presence had fired. As if Africa weren’t hot enough? Why did he have to come along and up the mercury another thirty degrees or so with his soft touches and all-seeing eyes? Every tiny touch made her skin spark and now she
ached
.
Sweat that had gathered at the base of her hairline trickled in an irritatingly slow way down her neck, eventually pooling between her breasts—breasts that felt big and heavy and tender. She longed for a shower—
for cool water endlessly gushing from a gleaming chrome head. The fantasy was almost as good as the other one playing in the back of her mind—the one where she wasn’t getting cooler but hotter and the source of the spike wasn’t a shower or a spa but one potent man.
Neither were achievable options right now. OK, so she could go have a shower, but that would mean walking out in public—past the footballers—and she was too wobbly. But she did have one luxury. Wet wipes. The best thing she’d brought with her to Africa. She’d use a few—give herself a sponge bath with the delicately scented, blessedly cool wipes.
She undid her bikini top and peeled it from her sticky body. Popped the plastic lid and pulled some of the small white squares from the container. She sat cross-legged on the groundsheet and closed her eyes, simple relief sweeping her as she slid the damp tissues over her too hot, too sensitive skin.
The buzzing sound was loud and fast. She froze mid-swipe. Suddenly moved to pick up her top but he moved faster—his hand grasping hers, holding it out away from her bared body. With his other hand he quickly slid the zip down behind him, sealing them in the tent.
‘I thought you were going to play football,’ she said quickly.
‘I…needed…to get…’ He took his time answering.
Eventually she prompted, ‘Get what?’
‘I don’t know.’His eyes were wide and filled with fire.
‘Sebastian.’ She tried to shake her head but the heat washed over her, melting her ability to move.
He didn’t look as if he’d heard anyway. The hunger in his gaze fired an equal hunger deep within her. Her nipples budded—practically screamed for his touch—tight and hard. Her breasts were heavy and full. Despite everything she wanted him to reach out to her, to cup them, to kiss them. To relieve the agonising torment that was this desire.
The muscles in his jaw worked as he clenched his teeth. Slowly his eyes lifted to meet hers. The fever burned between them. She heard the low growl as he turned and got out of the tent faster than a striking snake.
Ana tipped right over where she was, planting her face in the soft, suffocating sleeping bag. What the hell was she doing? She pulled on a new sloppy tee and went out. He was far away from the others viciously kicking a ball at a tree, hitting it with unerring precision. Time and time again. She walked over to him.
He glanced at her and immediately away. ‘Don’t come near me now.’
She halted. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I want to kiss you. I want to do more than kiss you.’
Thwack. The ball hit the tree again. And her legs could hardly hold her up.
‘You have no idea what I want to do to you,’ he muttered. Fists clenched, muscles bulging, his bare torso shone with sweat. He was primed.
Heat flooded in her most secret places. And she was the one panting like the one doing the crazy workout in the heat of the afternoon.
He stopped, stood with his hands on his hips and
glared at her. ‘We started something back then, Ana. And for me it isn’t over. I thought it was. But it isn’t.’ He gave the ball a mighty kick. ‘But I don’t want to mess either of us around again. So don’t come near me.’
E
VERY
time Ana looked up Seb was looking at her. The odd moments he was talking to someone else she watched him. Invariably he caught her at it, as she did him. Their eyes simply wouldn’t stray from each other for too long. It wasn’t a thread between them, it was a big, thick rope winding tighter and tighter.
Sexual attraction was blind to the faults of each individual, didn’t care how mismatched the two were. It was pure chemistry that couldn’t be denied. But hopefully it could be ignored.
She tried to put distance between them—sat up on the exposed frame of the truck, ostensibly to get a better view of the landscape. But the metal crossbars got too hard for her butt and she had no choice but to sit on the seat in the truck again.
And in the end she obeyed her body’s demand and took the seat next to his.
He might have told her to stay away but she found it impossible. They were in such close confines and she found herself in orbit circling closer and closer to his heat.
And all the while her mind searched to rationalise
it. They were on the long drive through to Dar Es Saleem, on a truck with twelve other people. Nothing could happen, and so the closeness was safe.
He spoke almost as soon as she sat. ‘Tell me about this business of yours.’
She nodded. Good idea. They could talk personal, but not intimate. ‘It’s a rental business.’
‘Renting what—washing machines? Driers? DVDs?’
‘Accessories.’
‘Computer accessories? What?’
‘Fashion accessories.’ She wasn’t surprised at his look and tried to explain it further. ‘What does the fairy godmother say in
Cinderella
?’
‘Be back by midnight?’
‘Bibbity Bobbity Bo. That’s what she says and,
voilà
, Cinderella is transformed. Well, my idea is Bibbity-Bobbity-
Bling
. I’m the godmother you come to when you need glitz and glam, or stylish and label but you can’t afford to buy it yourself.’ She started to laugh. ‘Do you know, I have so many trinkets, millions of high-heeled sparkly shoes and bags like you wouldn’t believe.’
Seb twisted in his seat and angled his head at her. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Ana, but you don’t strike me as a fashionista.’
‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘I’m a total wannabe. Or I was. Do you know I spent every cent of my student loan and ran up a hu-u-uge credit-card debt buying shoes and bags and
stuff
? But do you want to know the really stupid thing?’ She laughed again at her ridiculousness. ‘I never had the guts to wear it. It’s all pristine in bags and yet I still can’t bear to part with it.’
She shook her head. She’d wanted to be feminine
and gorgeous but she’d been so stuck in her ‘black, melt into the shadows’ phase she hadn’t been able to break free of it and she’d been mad. It had been like a kind of addiction. She hadn’t comfort eaten, she’d comfort shopped.
‘It took so long to pay off the debt and I screwed my credit rating.’ She had cleared the debt—a couple of years of working two or three jobs—and she had no intention of getting into debt ever again. ‘And instead of having all these quirky, stylish pieces sitting gathering dust, I need to turn them around and make them work for me. So I’m going to add a bit to my stock and make them for hire. I’ve got the website planned and half built. I’m looking for premises but still deciding quite where.’ She stopped for breath, realised she’d been gabbling. ‘Do you think it’s stupid?’
‘No.’ He looked a little dazed. ‘I think it could work. It really could.’
She knew it could. Because she was sure there were women out there like her who wanted but couldn’t afford, and wasn’t it better to hire than buy something you weren’t going to be using daily—these were not things anyone really
needed
. But it was about being able to have some fun. She wanted the fun.
‘The shoes you were wearing in the crater—’
‘Yeah. They’re some.’
He laughed.
She laughed too. ‘I know it’s mad.’
‘What made you wear them yesterday?’
She shrugged. Not wanting to admit it had been because of him.
‘You should wear them more.’
She couldn’t stop her smile then. ‘I’ve got some with even higher heels.’
‘No way.’
She nodded and told him of some of her other insane purchases. Loved his grin, loved his questions and his belief in the idea. They talked for hours, halfway through the night. Until everyone around them was asleep except poor Bundy driving in the cab in the front.
And then they didn’t talk any more. There was just that slow burning awareness as the truck drove on, the noise of the engine rough and loud in the wide, still night. Eventually she moved—forced herself to get away. Lay on the bagged tents that had been stacked in the aisle and stretched out—the most comfortable spot on the truck. The tarpaulin roof was still pulled back and she had the most incredible view of the stars, watching the lights that were moving—satellites or space junk or something. It was so dark she could barely make out the shadow of the other passengers. But of one thing she was certain. He was watching her.
Man, it was hot—since the second the sun had started to rise its power had been extreme. It didn’t help that Seb was now sitting in the seat next to the aisle and Ana’s long tanned legs were swinging down beside him from where she was perched back up on the crossbars that supported the tarpaulin covering. The drive through the night had nearly been the death of him. While he’d enjoyed how they’d talked, he wished like hell they’d been alone—or were alone now. Then he’d tug on that delectably fine-boned ankle and pull her down, kiss her as he’d been dreaming of kissing her
for days. Watching her rest on the bagged tents in the wee small hours, he’d fantasised about the kind of mattress they’d make if only they were alone. If only she’d say yes. If only they weren’t bloody married and had enough mess between them already.
The frustration was driving him crazy. There had been no one since her. And now he realised he wanted no one but her. But it would be beyond stupid. They’d muddied their lives enough with what they’d done the last time they’d given into temptation. They wanted different things—she wanted the whole happy-ever-after commitment bit and he just wanted fun and carefree. Problem was he only wanted to do fun with her.
Dar es Salaam came into view. Finally. Big and busy and when would the damn boat arrive to take them to Zanzibar? Seb was over the whole budget tourist thing. Of course he could stop here—ditch the truck and its passengers and go on his own road. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Not now the fire had been lit in him once more. He’d remain a slave to temptation—bitten by the bug. He was enjoying her company too much to walk away just yet. And there was that hint of hope, wasn’t there? He could see that look in her eye. So he couldn’t leave.
It felt like for ever but finally Ana got off the boat and onto the island of Zanzibar. She needed to rest. The lack of sleep she’d had last night was messing with her reason and she was thinking things she really shouldn’t.
Tempting things. Wicked things.
Ever since he’d told her to stay away she’d felt the desire to do the exact opposite. So she climbed into
the waiting Jeep, moved along so he could sit beside her and they were taken away from the bustling Stone Town to one of the beaches on the far side of Zanzibar.
There were four bandas—huts—in a row and then another four behind those. The rest of the budget resort consisted of a large open-air bar/restaurant and an open-top toilet and shower facility. Basic at best. But so incredibly beautiful.
She walked into the banda that had been assigned to her and Seb. An A-frame made of wood and palm, its only furniture four built-in cot-like beds—bare wooden frames with canvas stretching over them—hard and only a fraction wider than single beds. There was no floor, just soft sand underfoot. And a door made of the same mass of woven-together leaves.
She turned and found he was standing in the doorway behind her. The weather gods had smiled upon her and he’d been in the mosquito net under the stars outside her tent every night since that first. But their tents and nets were back on the truck in Dar es Salaam and now there was just this dim, spacious hut.
‘I don’t think we should share,’ he said, arms folded across his chest. ‘I’ll see if there’s room in anoth—’
‘It’s OK.’ She avoided looking at him. They were adults. They could handle it.
Besides, there was no way they could both squash up on those cots. Not without being on top of each other. But, oh, didn’t she want just that?
No.
She stepped back at the same time as he and they avoided each other all afternoon as if by tacit agreement. As the evening progressed they sat on opposite sides of the bar and joined in the conversation with the
others. Ana didn’t drink. Nor, she noted, did he. Too dangerous. Any hint of intoxication would see her will sliding from her. Temptation would be impossible to resist.
So she played it safer still, loitering in the bar until it was late, changed into her sleepwear in the bathroom facility. Left it long enough to be sure he’d be already tucked safely away.
She didn’t look at him as she slid inside her thin silk sleeping bag.
‘Goodnight, Ana.’ He flicked the torch off.
‘Night, Seb.’
The narrow cot creaked as she wriggled on it, bunching up her fleece jumper again, trying to push it into more of a comfy pillow. Seb muttered about the length of the hard little beds. Then silence.
Minutes that felt like hours later she knew he was still awake. Could feel the awareness swirling between them in the room. She counted sheep, thought happy thoughts, closed her eyes and consciously tried to relax all her muscles.
Failed.
There was nothing else for it. They were just going to have to do more of what they’d been too busy to do before.
Talk.
‘Seb?’
‘Mmm-hmm.’
‘Are you awake?’
‘Obviously.’
She grinned in the darkness and rolled onto her side to face him. ‘Did you tell your parents you got married?’
‘Hell, no,’ he laughed.
‘Why not?’
‘Well, for one thing you walked out before I had the chance. And for another they have enough failed marriages between them not to need me adding to the tally.’
‘Your parents are divorced?’
‘Three times each. Mum is on her fourth marriage now. Dad’ll no doubt play catch-up soon.’
Ana wished like hell she could see his face right now. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘Would I make that up?’ Wow.
What an experience. ‘When did they divorce each other?’ He sighed. ‘Do you really want to know this?’
‘Yes.’ ‘They separated when I was twelve. Mum got married again that year. Dad the year after that. They both divorced again the year after that. To be honest, then I start to lose track.’
‘What happened to you?’
‘What do you mean what happened to me?’ Defensive as ever there was.
‘Who did you live with?’
‘I split my time between them.’
Ana winced. She hadn’t had the greatest home life—but at least it had been stable. One house, one lot of guardians. ‘What were the step-parents like?’
‘They varied.’ ‘Did you have stepbrothers or sisters?’
‘Occasionally. For a while.’ His answer was supposed to be a conversation closer.
But she ignored it, because that must have been
hard, because it explained just a little about him. ‘But you don’t have other siblings.’
‘No.’
Utterly closed now and, as if to reinforce it, he pushed the questions onto her. ‘What about you? How did your aunt and uncle take it?’
‘I’ve never told them,’ she said baldly, still thinking over his revelations.
‘Really?’ He grunted. ‘When did you last see them?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Over a year ago.’
‘Over a year ago? As in before it happened?’
‘Yeah.’ She shrugged off his incredulity in the darkness. ‘We’re not close.’
‘Obviously.’ She could hear his frown. ‘Things really were bad for you, weren’t they?’
Oh, so he was thinking she had it worse than him now? Her heart lifted a notch. ‘Not that bad, Seb. I was fed, clothed. But I just didn’t fit in.’ She hadn’t been physically neglected, but she had been emotionally abandoned—and hurt. ‘I wasn’t what they wanted and I couldn’t figure out how to be what they wanted.’ She’d tried so hard for so long but it had never been enough. They hadn’t wanted her, or loved her. ‘We send the odd email.’ She sighed. ‘It wasn’t their fault—they didn’t ask to be landed with me. They did their best in a bad situation.’
‘You’re too generous. They should have loved to have you. They should have loved you.’ There was a long pause. ‘You were too generous with me, too.’
Why, because she’d wanted to give him her heart? Because she’d believed in the happy ever after? At least now his attitude towards it made more sense. He must have thought she was so naïve.
‘I’m sorry I hurt you,’ he said quietly.
She could actually smile and shake her head. ‘It wasn’t all your fault.’ And it wasn’t—some of what had happened could never have been predicted. ‘I said yes, didn’t I? If I hadn’t been so foolish it wouldn’t have happened at all.’ She’d wanted to believe so badly that someone could love her—that someone could fall completely in love with her like that. Oh, yes, totally fairy tale. Totally naïve. But she looked back on it with less of the total cringe factor now. Because while it hadn’t been love, there had been no denying the lust—there was still no denying the lust. ‘You were like this pirate—swooping in and taking what you wanted.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve learned my lesson.’
And maybe he had. He certainly wasn’t pushing for what he wanted now. Even though a tiny part of her wanted him to, the rest of her actually respected him for it.
She pondered what he’d told her, couldn’t stop another question going into the personal. ‘Is that why you do divorce cases? Because of your parents?’
‘Partly. I’d always wanted to go into law, and dispute resolution seemed the natural specialty, seeing I had a lot of practice with it.’
Practice in dispute resolution? It must have been ugly with his folks.