She shrugged. “I’m sure it’s no big deal.”
Zane’s frown deepened. “It’s a big deal all right. Remember one thing about Haan. Everything he does is calculated. Everything. Never forget he’s a dangerous man.”
How could she forget when Haan was responsible for her grandfather’s suffering? For her suffering? Each time she saw Haan a new fire for revenge built in her gut. It had taken everything inside her not to flinch away from him when he’d lifted her hand to his lips. Ugh. She couldn’t stand the man.
Before she could speak a knock came on the door. “It’s me. Ludwig.”
Speak of the devil. She glanced at Zane and he nodded. After she unlocked the door and allowed Haan inside, the man immediately brought a small box out of his front pants pocket.
He handed her the box with a smile and assuming Zane would approve of her wearing the ring. “Here, my dear. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
With reluctance and a smile painted on her face, she took the box and opened it. She half expected the ring to be ugly to match Ludwig Haan’s dank soul.
A huge, muddy stone, almost the color of smoky topaz, shouted from its white velvet prison. In a high setting, the oval, opaque stone seemed obscene. Thought it looked like white gold, it had the patina of something worn many, many years. An antique, perhaps. So what if she’d worn a fake diamond the size of a doorknocker. This ring looked cumbersome and uncomfortable. Down along the sides of the rink, intricate scrollwork formed an antique filigree pattern. She found it as intriguing and flattering as a gumball machine ring.
“It’s amazing,” she said, her voice coming out in a dry croak.
“I’ll say,” Zane said as he neared her. “Thank you.”
“I thought you would approve.” Haan looked small next to Zane’s powerful build, but the toughness in his eyes made up for some of that. “It’s six carats.”
“Son of a bitch.” Zane chuckled.
Haan laughed in return, his chortle sounding rusty with disuse. He nodded and then retreated out the door. “Wear it in good health until Zane can purchase another engagement ring.”
Real feelings powered up and asked for recognition. She held the box out to Haan. “No, I really can’t. I mean, it’s only one more day until we’re married. There’s no reason for me to walk around with your valuable piece of jewelry. I have my wedding ring.”
He pushed the box back toward her, a spark in his eyes warning her. “Not at all, my dear. You see, it is said the stone comes from deep in the jungle surrounding the San Cristobal plateau.” He shrugged. “I can’t vouch for that one hundred percent. In my journeys into the area I never saw anything like it. But who is to say?”
“Your family has been in Puerto Azul for generations?”
Zane’s gaze narrowed on her, as if he wanted her to back off but couldn’t come out and say it.
“No. We have visited over several decades with each generation, but until I built Rancho La Paz we have never lived here.” Haan took a deep breath, as if the subject made him emotional. “No matter. I will leave you to rest a little while I contact the doctor.”
After he left she locked the door and turned back to Zane. Afraid Haan could be listening at the door, she moved to the middle of the room. Zane followed, curiosity on his features.
She looked down at the open box. “This has got to be the most hideous ring I’ve ever seen.”
He laughed softly, reached for the box and put it on the dresser. “So don’t wear it until you go out and expect to meet Haan.”
“Yuck,” she said again as she gazed at the ring.
Zane’s irreverent smile said he enjoyed her discomfort. “Get over it.”
To her surprise he moved away a little, just far enough to stretch like a cat. He groaned and pulled the stained polo shirt over his head. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got to get a shower.”
“Shouldn’t you wait until the doctor examines you?”
He held the polo shirt and frowned. “Why?”
“What if you pass out in the shower? I mean, you could get dizzy and…”
She faded out as she saw his expression change to a stunning, gut-wrenchingly sexy grin. His expression went with that gorgeous chest. “I’m all right. I don’t have a concussion or believe me, I’d know. And I wouldn’t take any risks with it.” He chucked her under the chin gently with his index finger. “Thanks for worrying, though. It makes me…”
As his statement floated unfinished, his gaze darkened and she saw the danger, and could do nothing to stop it. He edged nearer and she drew in his masculine musk. He dropped the polo on the floor and gripped her shoulders. Her hands landed on that expanse of hair-roughened, muscled flesh. He felt so good, so delicious and sinful she couldn’t keep everything female within her responding to his maleness.
His eyes captured hers and she sank into an abyss of heat and need. He came closer, then nearer still, until his lips touched hers with tender reverence. She sighed as a sweet, gentle relief eased from his mouth to hers. He caressed, a gliding meeting that stirred down to her soul. He retreated and desperation raced through his eyes, then blinked out so quickly she couldn’t be sure she’d seen it.
He walked away like he didn’t have a care in the world, and she couldn’t help but watch his back muscles ripple. Her gaze fixated on his wide shoulders and the way his back tapered down to a slim waist and incredible backside. She blinked, wondering if the not-so-fabulous escapade they’d suffered destroyed every last common sense brain cell she possessed. A deep, warm heat penetrated her loins, a pleasant awareness she understood too well.
Arousal with a big capital letter A.
He disappeared into the bathroom and she heard the shower start. He left the door open, like a real lover might, unashamed. As she sank into a chair by the huge sliding glass doors, her imagination kicked in with a vengeance. Why did he keep doing this to her? She resolved to give him a little surprise of his own, to show Zane Spinella he couldn’t faze her any longer. She felt dirty and grubby, and at the very least she needed to use the facilities. She needed a hot shower, too, but she’d be damned if she’d step inside that steaming enclosure and join him.
She stripped off her espadrille sandals and walked across the sinfully thick carpet. When she reached the bathroom, she half expected him to be standing there naked and grinning at her in satisfaction over the shock value. She took a deep breath and entered the huge bathroom. The pink and white marbled extravaganza rivaled the bathroom at the hotel. Once she finished in the commode room, she stepped back into the main bathroom and observed the amenities. No expense had been spared in brushed pewter fixtures, a huge whirlpool tub, two sinks, and huge mirror. A vanity with another mirror and chair awaited a princess.
A deep voice issued from the shower. “Come to join me?”
A ripple of heat passed over her. “You wish.”
Good, Keira. That sounds lame. Like something from grade school.
He laughed and started singing, this time a Spanish tune with sexual tones. While she didn’t know the song, she recognized the intent. Sex simmered in the sultry words, brushed by generous love and devotion. For the first time she looked right at the large shower enclosure. Frosted glass covered her view, thank goodness, but it couldn’t disguise the telltale shape of a big, hard-muscled man lathering soap over his body in a shower big enough for four people. Twin shower heads spewed water over his tall figure.
To her mortification, a jolt of unadulterated lust jolted through her, a desire to connect with him on the most physical level possible. Then she stamped down the urge. The wild ride to Rancho La Paz and the resulting trauma did weird things to the libido.
She could testify to that fact.
“Ouch!” His guttural curse made her flinch and she stepped up to the shower, reaching for the latch before he said. “Damned sore spot on my head.”
Her hand hovered above the latch, then she snatched her fingers back before the damage could be done. “Are you
all right?”
Wonderful. Your voice sounds like a strangling chicken. Get a hold of yourself.
“I’m great.” His voice held confidence as he continued to sing.
As heat flushed her body, she turned away, her body defiant and needy. Pleading for her to take what she wanted for once without worrying about consequences. “Hurry up. Don’t take all the hot water.”
She left the bathroom started unpacking and hanging up clothes. She hadn’t gotten far when the shower went off. She stiffened as she realized all his clothes lay in his suitcase. Warm, soapy delicious scents floated out of the bathroom along with remaining steam.
For some reason sex seemed forever printed on her mind today, no matter what the situation. Her fingers slipped over satin and she picked up a red, lace-trimmed teddy nestled in her suitcase. She jammed the slinky lingerie into a drawer with a resentful movement and wondered what twisted person at the SIA gave provocative underwear to agents on assignment. She tried to rein in ridiculous emotions. Not the kind that belonged strictly to sex, but those related to a desire for Zane to be well, to regain the strength she remembered when she first saw him. The thought of him anything but potent and capable frightened her on a deep, undefined level. She didn’t want to think about it anymore.
Zane appeared wearing a purple towel around his waist. As before in the hotel, the water beaded on his chest and clung to his hair and face. He moved with confidence. Arrogance always pissed her off, but his attitude appeared drawn from pure self-confidence and not an overblown ego. At least he felt well enough he could project that cocky exterior. After retrieving his shaving kit, briefs, and a fresh polo shirt and jeans, he went back to the bathroom without taunting or smiling. Amazing.
Quicker than she expected he left the bathroom shaved and redressed except for shoes. A knock came on the door and Zane went to open it. Haan stood outside the door with a short, rotund Hispanic man with a cheerful smile.
“Zane, this is Dr. Ramirez from San Cristobal,” Haan said. “He was in the area and was able to make it here fast.”
Zane stepped back and allowed the men to enter. Both the doctor and Haan scanned the room, almost as if they looked for something. She thought it was damned odd response, but decided maybe she’d become paranoid after a trip like this. She brushed off apprehension, glad to see Zane would receive medical attention.
Haan gave that little formal bow. “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of the doctor. Come down to lunch when you’re ready. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
“That’ll be great,” Zane said his smile sincere.
Her stomach growled, not quite loud enough for anyone else to hear, but a signal to her that her American stomach on American time wanted lunch.
“Señor Spinella, would you please sit on the bed, and I’ll do my examination,” the man asked Zane.
Zane complied, but when the doctor stopped cold and gazed at her quizzically, she said, “Is there something wrong?”
The round man straightened to his full height, which couldn’t be more than five foot three inches, and gave her an imperial look. “I prefer to do examinations with no one else interfering.”
She started to object, but Zane spoke up. “It’s okay, darling. Why don’t you be a good girl and sit out on the balcony while he checks me over?”
Be a good girl? Annoyance turned to full-blown irritation. Oh yeah, there will be hell to pay for that chauvinistic statement, Mr. Spinella.
With a glare she turned on her heel. She unlocked and opened the balcony doors and they moved on smooth, well-oiled tracks. Sticky heat walloped her in the face, but she went outside anyway and closed the door. At first she couldn’t decide if she liked being on the balcony. Part of her wanted to explore. The vast majesty within a fingertip’s distance beckoned in a mysterious way she’d never encountered. While the jungle had given her the shivers earlier, she found a strange draw to it now as the tension eased from her body.
As she’d noted before, the balcony offered two dark wicker lounge chairs and a long table, and she sank onto one of the lounge chairs. She didn’t bother to look at the scenery, weariness making her close her eyes. She yawned. Her adventure with El Jaguar proved exhausting. Zane’s nonchalant attitude about what happened to him disturbed her on a fundamental level. How could any woman endure the thought of her man being in such danger all the time? Then again, how did a woman stop loving a man just because of danger?
Okay, Keira, what was that all about? You’re attracted to him and concerned for him as a human being. That’s all.
What seemed like eons passed before the balcony door slid open and Zane stepped outside to say, “I’m finished.”
She jerked, eyes flying open at the disruption. She felt as if she’d slept for hours, but she knew it couldn’t be more than a few minutes.
As she sat up straighter, she asked, “What’s the verdict?”
He shrugged. “I’ll live. The doctor doesn’t think I have a concussion, just as I said. Everything is okay. I might have a bit of a headache for awhile today, but he told me to take some painkillers.”
“And call him in the morning?” She stood and followed him into the room.
“That’s right.”
“I’m glad. I mean, that he says you’re all right. You don’t need any stitches?”
“Nope. In fact, it got a good washing when I took a shower. Stung like hell, but nixed the germs.”
“What’s our next move?” she asked as he closed the sliding door.
“Play things easy. Have lunch with Haan, then get married tomorrow afternoon. Should be interesting.”
The plush carpet felt decadent under her bare feet, yet it couldn’t make her feel secure about the wedding. “You said the wedding would be real.”
He nodded. “It will be. I’m sure we’ll hear more about it at lunch.”
She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know, Zane. I mean, we’re mucking around with sacred vows here for a mission. Doesn’t that seem a little…?”
She didn’t know how to say what she meant.
He frowned. “It’s a game you’ve got to be willing to play. We can’t afford to lose momentum here.” He lowered his voice. “Haan is a ruthless bastard and you know it. We’ve got to do whatever it takes to outwit him, get La Pasion, and get out of here alive.”
Defensiveness arose inside her. “There’s something about this mission you aren’t telling me. Mac said this was the only way to clear my name and my grandfather’s. But if I was in on Haan’s little plan and if my grandfather was truly the awful man the SIA thinks he is, how could me being here help things? Wouldn’t I thwart your plans at every turn? Make things difficult for you?”
He snorted. “Who says you aren’t?”
She marched up to him, determined to play his brand of intimidation. She glared up at him. “I see. I’m being a bitch now because I won’t agree with you?”
He heaved a sound of derision. “No, but you should know you can trust me by now. What have I done to break that trust?”
She didn’t know and didn’t want to admit it. Raging doubt continued. “And another thing, the little woman act you want me to play isn’t going to wash—”
“Whoa.” He put up one hand. “Now wait a minute. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
A headache started in her temples. “When that doctor came in here and said I should leave the room while he was examining you, you called me a good girl. I’m not any man’s good girl.”
Exasperation and humor mixed in his expression. “I don’t think it hurts anything if Haan and his cronies think you’re subservient. Probably make things easier all the way around.” He cupped her shoulders and the warmth of his hands on her arms felt protective and sensual. “Haan is a male chauvinist from the word go. He believes most women should be seen and not heard. He won’t dictate to another man’s wife what she should or shouldn’t do, but for himself…” He shrugged. “The man is
pretty ruthless with his women.” When she didn’t answer, he frowned. “Look, can’t you let go of this affront for the good of the cause?”
“I’m not anyone’s woman.” Keira said it softly, but she meant every word. “Just because Haan thinks he can push a woman around, that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you treat me like an imbecile.”
“Whatever.” He stalked toward the door. “I need some fresh air. Come down to lunch when you’re ready.”
The door slammed when he left the room. She rubbed a hand over her eyes and sighed. Immediate regret wormed into her. Okay, so maybe she overreacted a little, but she didn’t trust his motivations one hundred percent. Few people in her life could be trusted, except for her grandfather.
Frustrated, she grabbed a gauzy fern green dress from the closet that would float around her ankles and a pair of flats. When she dug around in the chest of drawers for fresh underwear she looked at the skimpy red items. She would wear the push-up demi-bra and the tiny bikini panties. Wearing something sexy under the dress felt right. With the heat she didn’t want to wear nylons, so it was easier to just slip into shoes.
She snatched her makeup bag and retreated to the bathroom. A half hour later she emerged from the bathroom refreshed. There was no sign of Zane. Her heart did a peculiar skip of fright and the room seemed excessively small for her. As her breath quickened she decided maybe a stroll would remove disconnected, free-floating fears.
The hell with staying in this room while Zane did whatever he pleased. What would it hurt to venture out to the pool for a few minutes before heading downstairs? On the way out her gaze caught on the velvet ring box. It wouldn’t do for Haan to catch her without the ring, so she slipped it on her finger. The jewelry felt cold and heavy and the stone must weigh a ton because the gargantuan fake diamond she’d worn earlier hadn’t felt this burdensome. She expected this ring to slide around on her hand, but it fit pretty well.
She left the room and paused at the doorway, expecting to hear signs of human habitation. Instead the wide hallways echoed with bizarre silence. Almost as if she’d been left alone in this cold place. A shiver coasted along her arms and suddenly she wanted out. Wanted into the sunshine and the relentless heat that baked her earlier.
Special Investigations Agency: Primordial Page 12