Nodding her head briefly, Sophie followed him to the truck. She didn’t trust herself to speak right now—not with Xavier’s ultimatum still ringing in her ears.
By the time they got back the yard was full of people again, but not patients. There was a fiercely competitive football match going on between members of the medical staff and some of the boys from the village. The dusty space in front of the clinic had been transformed, and a blaze of excitement rose from the local supporters.
As Xavier drove in slowly through the gates he had to steer cautiously through the crowds of people milling about. ‘Looks like fun,’ he commented, resting his arms on the steering wheel to peer through the windscreen.
It was the first time he had spoken since mentioning something worth progressing! Sophie had tried to put it out of her mind and found she couldn’t. But Xavier had probably been embarking on something worth progressing since the day he first had to shave. ‘Will you drop me off here?’ she demanded edgily.
‘Let me park up first,’ he said, ‘and then I’ll join you.’
Sophie flung her brightly coloured shawl around her shoulders in defiance. She felt like telling him not to bother. But the shiver of anticipation, the ice between her shoulder blades, told her he was behind her the moment she climbed out of the truck.
The first person she saw amongst the crowd was Anna Groes. It must be a day for self-flagellation, Sophie mused, as she hurried towards the Danish doctor.
‘Hey, Xavier, come and help us—we’re being destroyed here.’
The voice of the man jogging backwards alongside her told Sophie Xavier was close. She didn’t need telling. She was caught up in his powerful aura; she could feel it spinning a silken web all around her—electrifying, stimulating—it quite literally took her breath away.
‘Will you be OK if I leave you?’
She turned. Xavier’s expression was sardonic. He was all male. He loved the chase. ‘I’ll be fine.’ Sophie’s heart thundered a warning. Her pulse hammered a tattoo. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the family who had given her the beautiful shawl. She was so relieved she exclaimed out loud and stood on tiptoe to wave to them. But a curl of apprehension wormed its way down Sophie’s spine as she made her break for freedom and, when she turned around, she found Anna Groes watching her.
Banishing Anna from her thoughts, and doing the best she could to do the same for Xavier, Sophie concentrated on getting to know the family. She completely lost track of time until the game ended and Xavier led his team to victory.
‘I’d better go,’ she said and, as the family waved her off, she hurried back through the crowd, using Anna’s sleek blonde head as a guide.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you on your own.’
‘I was OK,’ Anna said impatiently. ‘And I imagine you were glad of the break. Don’t you find Xavier exhausting?’
‘Exhausting?’ Sophie said, then she remembered the climb to the ledge and the swimming. ‘He is very fit.’
‘Very fit,’ Anna agreed sardonically. ‘There aren’t many women who can keep up with him. I congratulate you.’
This was not a pat on the back, Sophie sensed, finding it troubling. As they entered the clinic Xavier emerged from the shower.
Whatever their differences, it didn’t stop Sophie’s whole being ache at the sight of him. There was a towel slung around his bronzed neck, and his low-slung jeans moulded his powerful thighs, while the black fitted top clung to his imposing frame—he hadn’t even dried himself properly, she noted wryly, seeing some drops of water tracking down his neck. He was certainly in a hurry to get somewhere…he was certainly irresistible too, she mused, pinning a casual expression to her face.
‘Xavier! You were wonderful!’ Anna effused, throwing her arms around his neck. She would have kissed him square on the lips, had he not turned round to look at Sophie as she struck.
‘Sorry to disillusion you, but I’m not the hero of the hour,’ Xavier said coolly. ‘I didn’t arrange the match.’
‘But you saved the day by scoring the winning goal,’ Anna pointed out with a pout.
Raking the towel back and forth across his neck, Xavier made a dismissive sound.
‘Why don’t I make us something to eat?’ Anna purred, still gazing at him.
He looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps we should give each other a little space. After all, we work together all day.’
His glance embraced Sophie, and it hurt. ‘I was hoping to discuss work schedules with you over supper, Xavier,’ she pointed out. ‘I don’t mind helping you to prepare the meal, Anna—’
‘That’s very good of you, Sophie,’ Xavier said dryly, ‘but I’ve got something else in mind.’
Sophie felt let down and furious. Xavier couldn’t just cut her out of the working loop because he was too busy. Or was he punishing her because of his suspicions about Henry?
‘I’ve got a prior invitation,’ he said with a shrug when she threw him a look.
‘Fine,’ Sophie countered. ‘I take it you’ll be posting a roster on the board so that I can see what’s expected of me?’
‘I’ll let you know what’s expected of you.’
‘I can tell Sophie,’ Anna offered, suddenly helpful, ‘over supper.’
‘I’m sorry, Anna,’ Xavier said, turning to look at her, ‘but Sophie’s coming with me.’
‘With you?’
The two women’s voices chimed as one as they gazed at Xavier in surprise.
‘Where?’ Sophie demanded, as her heart began to race.
‘To make a visit.’
‘A medical visit?’
‘It is connected with my medical interests,’ Xavier volunteered.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about this before?’
‘It must have slipped my mind.’
His shrug was mildly apologetic, but he didn’t look a bit sorry, Sophie decided. She jumped as the sound of Anna’s door slamming reached them.
‘Well, are you ready?’ Xavier said, tossing the towel which had been slung around his neck on to a chair. ‘Grab a jacket; it gets cold quickly.’
And, before she could ask any more questions, he strode past her out of the door.
Xavier could feel his senses simmering as he settled himself behind the wheel. He had never had to wait for anything in his life before—and what was the truth about Henry Whitland? A fierce sound shot from his throat as he remembered. He would not share her.
He made a low sound of satisfaction, remembering Sophie’s arousal when he held her in his arms. He had developed a taste for her sweetness, and had begun the cure—but, if she wanted the full treatment, she had some urgent decisions to make.
CHAPTER SIX
‘SO WHERE are we really going?’ Sophie said.
‘I want you to see the type of direction our work must take for this project to be successful in the long term,’ Xavier told her. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get something to eat.’
‘I’m not worried about food,’ Sophie said honestly. She was more concerned in the shift in his mood, because for once she couldn’t read it. ‘Can we talk about the rota?’ she said innocently, searching his face for clues.
‘If we must.’
She tried another tack. ‘You said we had an invitation?’
‘Why don’t you just wait and see?’ Xavier said, spinning the wheel as he drove out of the compound.
‘Xavier, I—’
‘What?’
‘I need to get something straight with you.’ When he remained silent she went straight on. ‘Henry—’
His snort of derision cut her off.
‘I’m going to tell you about Henry,’ Sophie insisted. ‘Whether or not you want to hear, you’re going to hear this.’
Xavier’s jaw was ground tight as he leaned over to turn the radio on.
‘This is important, Xavier,’ Sophie warned, turning it off again.
‘OK, so I’m listening,’ he said tersely.
Taking a
deep, steadying breath, Sophie said bluntly, ‘I’m not engaged to Henry. I never have been engaged to Henry. We’ve known each other for years. The ring was a token of the friendship between us. That’s it.’ She waited for him to say something but, apart from a slight movement of his head, accompanied by a similar acknowledgement from his lips, he had no comment to make.
Well, she’d done it, Sophie reflected. What else could she say?
Xavier had difficulty keeping his mouth shut—had difficulty stopping himself from ramming the brakes on and seducing her in the truck. It wasn’t quite what he’d hoped for, but what the hell? The gear lever might get in the way, but he could kneel on the floor and there was a ledge under the windscreen to rest her feet on… Was he going completely loco? Probably, Xavier answered himself dryly. Sophie had told him exactly what he had wanted to hear—he just hadn’t anticipated hearing it quite so soon.
‘Are we coming to another village?’ Sophie said, breaking into his thoughts.
‘That’s right,’ Xavier said, pulling himself round with difficulty. ‘You must be hungry.’
His consideration was a straw suggesting they could remain civil with each other and Sophie grabbed at it. ‘I am,’ she agreed with a smile in her voice.
Xavier drew up in front of one of the many rough stone dwellings, and Sophie saw that the wooden entrance door was pushed a small way open. A soft glow of light came from the inside. ‘A café?’ she guessed.
‘My friend’s home,’ Xavier explained, as he reached over the seat into the space behind.
Sophie hadn’t noticed the bulging bag before, and Xavier offered no explanation as he threw the strap over his shoulder and climbed down from the truck.
As they went into the modest home together the warmth of the family’s welcome enveloped Sophie immediately. Escorting her to a comfortably padded bench at one side of the fire blazing brightly in the tiled hearth, they clustered around her like brightly plumaged birds concerned for their long-lost chick. The air was filled with the tang of wood smoke, overlaid with the aroma of something good cooking, and everywhere Sophie looked there were colourful examples of the local pottery, as well as the fabulous woven textiles everyone took for granted in Peru.
Xavier introduced her to Agustin and Francisca. Their six children ranged in age from a babe in arms to a serious-faced boy called Marcos, who Sophie judged to be around seventeen. The whole family was openly delighted by their visit, but Marcos especially seemed thrilled to see Xavier.
One of the older girls poured Sophie a drink from the pitcher standing on the wooden table, whilst another brought over a platter of fruit and cheese for her to pick at. Smiling her thanks, Sophie wondered if their distinctive dress was unique to that village. Rather than the usual jaunty fedoras, their heads were covered with a warm, heat-retaining fabric, similar to felt, with a heavy fringe around the edges, so that it resembled a soft and rather flattering lampshade. The girl with the cheekiest grin had decorated hers with a splash of vivid embroidery—personalised it, like teenagers everywhere, Sophie thought, smiling up at her. All the female members of the family wore colourful shawls similar to her own over red cardigans or jumpers, and their skirts were full, in dark grey edged with bands of red.
‘There’s soup,’ the father, Agustin, said with a kindly smile, ‘with vegetables I grew myself. I hope you will join us.’
‘I’d love to,’ Sophie said. ‘Your English is very good. I’m afraid I only speak the little Spanish I picked up on holiday in my childhood.’
‘But you are a doctor,’ he said gently, as if this was a place where no one fell short in any way. ‘And I work in the tourist industry,’ he went on to explain, as if his command of a second language was nothing special. ‘I work at—’
‘Rancho del Condor?’ Sophie guessed.
‘That’s right,’ he answered with obvious pleasure.
Sophie could feel Xavier watching her. Glancing up, she found she was right. He was pleased by her interest; she could see it in his eyes. She dragged her gaze away from him to listen as Agustin continued. ‘My wife, Francisca, speaks English too, and the children will learn,’ he stated firmly, as if that was a direct instruction to all of them.
Smiling back at Agustin and looking around at his family, Sophie felt the same tug in her heart she guessed Xavier felt whenever he came here.
She glanced over to where Xavier was sitting with the older boy, and was surprised when he looked up. There was something raw in his stare that commanded her attention, but then he too turned back to listen to whatever Marcos was saying to him. They were seated together in an area arranged for privacy. A colourful swag of the typical, mostly red Peruvian cloth was strung between two poles in one corner of the room, and their stools were pulled so close together that their heads were almost touching. And now she knew the secret of the bulging bag—medical books.
‘Well, I don’t need them,’ Xavier said with a dismissive gesture, when she asked him about it later on the way home.
‘So, Marcos—’
‘Wants to be a doctor,’ Xavier said, anticipating her question.
‘But how—?’
‘There’s a scholarship.’ He left it at that.
‘The Armando Martinez Bordiu Scholarship?’ Sophie said gently.
‘That’s right,’ he said.
When the lights of the clinic came into sight Xavier slowed the truck before they got there and, finding a clearing at one side of the road, he pulled in and cut the engine.
‘Where are we now?’ Sophie asked curiously.
‘Somewhere,’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘Does it matter?’
Sophie’s heart had picked up pace until she could hardly breathe. ‘Of course not, I just wondered.’
Leaning across the seat, Xavier began toying with the soft fringe that, as usual, had tumbled into her eyes.
Automatically reaching up to push it away, Sophie’s fingers encountered his. Moving of their own accord, or so it seemed to her, they twined through his and rested there for a while. Just having their hands locked together was enough to make her breathing ragged. It sounded loud in the silence of the darkened cab. Raising the game, Xavier began caressing her palm with a sensitive, compelling touch, and then he moved on to stroke the blue-white veins showing her raised pulse clearly beneath her fine, sun-blushed skin.
‘So, why are we here?’ Sophie managed in a voice that sounded faint against the heartbeat thundering in her ears.
‘Because I’m not ready to go back yet,’ Xavier said, steering a glance at her.
‘But why—?’
‘Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?’
‘Yes,’ Sophie admitted softly, ‘you.’
‘Well, you haven’t changed a bit since the day I first met you, Sophie Ford. You still ask far too many questions.’
His voice was low, little more than a whisper. Sophie felt her level of awareness soar to match his.
‘Are you seriously telling me you have never done this before?’ Xavier demanded softly.
‘Done what?’
His answer was a kiss. His mouth barely touched hers. He held himself back deliberately, knowing the moment he stopped kissing her she would want more.
‘Kissed in the back of a car,’ Xavier continued, teasing her mercilessly with the lightest brush of his lips on her face, her neck, her eyelids, ‘or the front of a truck, in this case,’ he murmured, his quiet laughter mingling with her sighs as Sophie swayed towards him, groaning in need. ‘What is it, querida? Do you want this?’ he murmured, returning to tease the seam of her lips with his tongue.
Sophie could only shudder out a sigh, but she was trembling with sensation when he moved away again, this time to drop kisses along the line of her jaw.
‘Or this?’ he suggested softly. Having reached the lobe of her ear, he took it delicately between his lips to suckle, the heat of his breath causing every fine hair on her neck to stand erect. His kisses on the nape of her neck
made her move languorously on the seat. She seemed to have lost all semblance of control over her body, and could only writhe in anticipation when his searing glance challenged her to deny the extent of her arousal.
‘Or this—’
She cried out as his powerful hand enclosed the soft swell of her breast, and in the next moment she was pressing against him, not caring what he might think of her, linking her hands behind his neck, dragging him to her, seeking his mouth and kissing him hard, opening her lips beneath his, inviting his possession, relishing the erotic clash of his tongue against her own. She didn’t want any more talk, any more teasing… She wanted the touch of his hand nursing her breast to last for ever. She loved the fact that he found her nipple unhesitatingly through her clothes and that he knew just how to touch her, how to make her find extremes of pleasure she had never known existed. She was greedy, she had been starved of physical love too long and, ripping her shirt open, she seized his other hand and made him claim her neglected breast, folding her own hand around his to increase the pressure and leave him in no doubt that this was what she needed.
‘Or is this what you really want?’ he murmured, easing her thighs apart.
Sophie gasped. Even through the fabric of her summer-weight jeans she was sure they could both feel the heat and, in the slanting shafts of moonshine streaming into the cab, see the swollen signs of her arousal. But, as her hands rushed to the top button above the zip, Xavier stopped her, and firmly moved them away.
‘Not yet,’ he warned softly. ‘We’ve a long way to go before we get that far.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sophie groaned breathlessly, writhing a little beneath his firm touch. ‘I want… I need—’
‘I know,’ Xavier said soothingly. ‘I know exactly what you need.’ And then one of his hands was between her legs, and his long, lean fingers began stroking—lightly, rhythmically so that Sophie could only issue little surprised cries of pleasure and relief.
He brought her to the edge with unhurried ease, and when he tipped her over the small cab echoed with her cries and then with her whimpers of exhaustion and delight as the violent waves of pleasure subsided gradually into eddies of contentment.
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