Jason crossed the clinic and veered Matt’s way, knocking knuckles with him in greeting. “You gotta do something, man,” Jason whispered vehemently. “Don’t let Hank win her back.”
No sir, that didn’t sound good at all.
With a sharp nod, he kept moving their direction and took a quick study of Mr. Perfectly Pressed. So this was the almost fiancé? He looked nothing like her type. Then again, what was her type? Surely, not the Mr. Clean variety, all stuffy and proper and…and… The guy didn’t even have a hangnail. Probably a luke-warm kisser and never got naked in broad daylight.
Miranda reached out and grabbed Matt’s hand, pulling him the final few steps her way. “Meet Hank Meadows, staff director at the San Diego Zoo in California. Hank, meet Matthew Bennett.”
The two men sized each other up. Hank seemed wary, a feeling Matt shared. Regardless of his instant dislike, Matt held out a work-callused hand and gave the guy a half-hearted shake. “What brings you all the way to Katanga? Checking up on the doc?”
“No need for that.” Hank smiled a little too warmly at Miranda. “She has our total trust.”
“So why are you here?” Matt persisted.
“Because Miranda and I have a little unfinished business, and I didn’t want to wait until she returned home. Plus, it seemed a good time to play tourist.” Hank stepped closer to Miranda and brushed her braid off her shoulder. An intentional intimate gesture, and Matt got the message.
Miranda frowned at Hank and stepped over to the counter where Letta handed her a chart to sign. “Hank wants to see some of Africa,” Miranda said as she scribbled her name. “I thought you could help by suggesting a reputable safari company.”
“Maybe,” he said. He knew one that could send Hank into the middle of the Kalahari, and if Matt were lucky, the guy would get himself lost. “I could probably get him in with a group, day after tomorrow.”
“Actually, that’s not what I had in mind,” Hank said and turned to Miranda. “I thought we could rent a Jeep and take a scenic drive around Gaborone. Maybe take in an adjoining town or two.”
Matt ground his teeth. Jason rolled his eyes. Letta just stood quietly by the counter, watching the play.
“Perhaps next week after my time is up at Katanga,” Miranda replied. “Since they paid for my services, it wouldn’t be right to request time off.”
The small frown marring Hank’s forehead concerned Matt. Competition for Miranda’s time didn’t fit into his plans. Why did everything have to be so bloody complicated?
“On that note,” Jason interrupted, “duty calls. Doc and I need to get out to the Oasis Pool. How about I get Kampo to drive Hank to the lodge, and we’ll meet him there in time for supper?”
Hank glanced at his expensive-looking wristwatch. “Dinner at seven?”
“We’ll be there,” Jason replied, and Hank shot him a sour look.
Matt had better ideas, but he let it go for now.
Chapter 27
Jason sat back from the table with a heartfelt sigh and a gleam of mischief. “So what do you think, Hank? Isn’t Tavi’s cooking the best you ever tasted?”
Miranda smiled at her assistant. He showed rare form tonight. Meddling, intrusive, and intentionally obtuse to every hint Hank made for him to leave. And she’d never appreciated him more.
“Dinner was superb,” Hank replied. “So tell me, Jason, how have you and Miranda spent your evenings these past weeks?”
“Working late most days. But we’ve managed to do a little sightseeing, taste some local brew. Miranda managed to take in an African tribal wedding.”
Hank’s eyes widened and his head swiveled her way, so she refrained from kicking Jason’s shin under the table.
“How’d you manage that?” he asked.
“Matt took her.”
She did kick Jason then.
“Matt? Do you mean the janitor I met earlier today?”
“He’s a very interesting man,” Miranda said. “American, but raised in these parts. Friends of his were getting married.”
“And he needed a date.” Jason, it seemed, was doing his level best to keep Hank from reentering her affections. He really needn’t worry.
She thought she’d made that clear late this afternoon when he and Letta had grilled her over the reappearance of her almost fiancé. Jason had been downright indignant after Hank showed up. “I can’t believe this!” Jason had said. “Just when I start to breathe a sigh of relief, he shows up to throw a wrench in the works.”
“This Hank,” Letta had said as she tapped a long finger against her chin, “I do not see you two together. There’s no spark.”
“There was a point when I thought spark was overrated.”
Letta had shaken her head. “My grandmother always said when two people are destined for each other, there are connecting lines of natural energy. They attract and spark internal fire. Like what happens when you and Matt are together.”
Miranda hardly knew what to think. Attraction she definitely had. Internal fire? That was entirely beside the point. She’d had one or two past boyfriends who had sparked fire. Nice for a time, but not enough for a solid relationship. There had to be more.
She glanced at Hank now with that conversation in mind. He sipped his after-dinner coffee and appeared relaxed. Men like Hank made excellent husband material. Dependable, solid, geared toward domestic life. He was the embodiment of a well-landscaped house in the suburbs, three kids, and a minivan.
So why was Matt the one she wanted? And why was Jason so determined to point out that fact?
“Jason was invited to the wedding, too, but he declined,” Miranda defended. “It’s his own fault he missed the event of the trip.”
Jason shrugged and lifted his bottled water for a quick sip. “Ask her about the colossal hangover she had the next morning.”
Hank’s eyes grew wider.
The glare she leveled at Jason clearly told him to knock it off. “Don’t listen to him, Hank. He’s just jealous because he missed out on tribal hooch, a feast fit for a king, and dancing to the rhythm of native drums.”
“Now I know why you like taking these trips so much.”
“When in Rome…” Jason sighed theatrically.
“Honestly,” Miranda said in denial, “that kind of thing isn’t the norm. This was special.”
“How special?” Hank looked at her with a clear question in his eyes.
This was not a conversation she wanted to have. Not right after dinner. Not with Jason sitting there wearing a sly smile. Not when she wished Matt sat here instead.
“Can we change the subject?” Miranda pushed away from the table. “How about we go sit in the lobby by the stone fireplace and enjoy a glass of wine?”
The three of them spent the next hour catching up on San Diego happenings. They shared a couple glasses of a South African chenin blanc and regaled Hank on their exploits with Estelle, the albino hippo.
Topics gradually changed, and when Jason and Hank began seriously discussing the different aspects of antique muscle cars, Miranda made her excuses and said goodnight. They waved her on absently, hardly breaking their conversation.
With a sigh of relief, she headed down the lodge hallway to the back door. She had to remember to thank Jason later. His supreme meddling had never been so timely. Stepping out into the gardens, she breathed deep the tangy aroma of night-blooming flowers and freshly worked soil. The cooler evening air wafted around her, and she relished the slow walk to her cabin.
Insects chirped and wind rustled the tree tops, soothing her jangled nerves. She stopped at a garden bench near her cabin just to prolong the peace.
“About time you finished entertaining.” Matt settled onto the bench beside her. “Been waiting out here forever.”
Miranda wasn’t even startled. She figured he’d show up sooner or later. “I guess this saves me the trouble of trying to find you. You realize I have no idea how to reach you?�
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His expression landed somewhere between surprise and worry. “I haven’t given you my cell phone number?”
“No.”
He scribbled it down on a small notepad, ripped off the page, and handed it to her. “So what’s with the visitor?”
“Completely unexpected, and his timing couldn’t be worse,” she said and stuffed the number into her shorts pocket. “Not to worry, though. Jason, the self-appointed guardian of my love life, isn’t happy about Hank’s arrival and will keep him distracted with tourist stuff. Now tell me about Panjami. What did you find?”
“A bare bones staff and a German Shepherd guard dog. What does Hank want from you?”
“I’ve avoided asking him that question. The possible answers scare me. So did you get inside and have a look around?”
“I did. And why does he scare you?”
She was more interested in Panjami than Hank’s intentions. “He doesn’t scare me. What he’s looking for does. Now, about Panjami?”
“From what I’ve seen you’re hardly afraid of anything,” Matt scoffed. “Why him?”
She sighed. Apparently she’d get nothing out of him until she satisfied his curiosity. “Because Hank wanted me to give up field work, settle down, and be a proper wife.” She shifted on the bench, sitting up straighter. “I couldn’t do it.”
Matt’s frown deepened into a scowl. “So, Mr. Clean Jeans is here to get you back, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She frowned right back. She couldn’t tell if Matt deliberately tried to distract her from the subject, or if he actually felt concern over Hank’s appearance.
“Forget about Hank,” she said. “The important thing right now is Panjami. Before you drive me crazy, will you please tell me what you found?”
He rubbed absently at his chin, as though debating her request. “I watched the grounds all day and eventually called Nik. He met me there last night, and we went in together. It’s a good-sized place, and in the mechanic’s garage we found a stack of cages with the phony bars. You know, this guy has to be pretty serious about you if he flew all the way here for unfinished business. And just what might that be, anyway?”
“Will you stop?”
“It’s a grand gesture he’s made. Doesn’t it impress you?”
“Sure it does. What it doesn’t do is change my mind. Now, what else did you see?”
The stubborn set of his jaw said he didn’t want to talk about it.
He underestimated her determination. “You aren’t giving me anything here. Now start talking, or I swear I’m going to hurt you.”
His brows lifted in interest. “Hurt me? How?”
“Matthew Bennett!”
“Okay, okay. But you shouldn’t make promises you won’t keep.”
She recognized an evasion tactic when she saw it. “You are stalling. Hand over the details, Mr. Bennett.”
He sat back on the bench and sighed. “A search of the main building turned up a diamond cutting lab and a floor safe chock full of semi-cut stones. Along with a sizeable amount of cash.”
“How did you open a floor safe?”
He lifted a brow with a look that said “don’t ask.”
“That’s what I thought. So I’ll add safecracking to your list of dubious skills.”
He offered a nonchalant shrug. “It pays to be well-rounded in my line of work.”
She let that one go and concentrated on the bigger issue. “A safe full of diamonds must mean a shipment is being prepared for transport.”
“It’s a strong possibility. Nik is placing a couple agents to watch the place.”
“What can we do to protect Katanga?”
“We will do nothing. I will be tracking the movement to fight the sale of weapons those diamonds will fund.”
That sounded impossibly dangerous to Miranda. “Why you? Can’t Nik set a couple of agents on that, too?”
“What’s the matter? Worried about me?”
He had that lopsided grin she both loved and hated. To her, it meant he wasn’t taking the matter serious enough.
“Me worried about a devil-may-care agent with a death wish? Of course not. I’d be better off spending my time ensuring Katanga stays out of the crossfire.” It was a blatant lie, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Now you’ve hurt my feelings.” He stared off into the night like some desolate and heartbroken poet. “You’ve a meager heart, Miranda Parrish. Maybe I should warn Hank about you.”
“Maybe you should consider taking up an acting career. It’s far less dangerous.”
“Does Hank know this mean side of your nature?”
“I’m a solid sweetheart,” she scoffed. “Blame yourself for my mean streak. You bring out the worst in me.”
“What are you going to do about him?”
“I suppose show him a little of Africa.” Her hands were on the edge of the bench, and she leaned forward, staring at her shoes. “He did come an awfully long way.”
“And just how are you going to play tour guide with him and protect Katanga at the same time?”
She glanced over then, looking for any sign of dependability. “I’d like to think I could count on you to help.”
“You mean play bodyguard while you date some other guy?” he asked incredulously.
“I’m not dating him,” she argued. “He’s a friend who took a big step out of his ordinary world to come here.”
“A friend that wants to walk you down the aisle.”
Angry and confused, Miranda stood up. “And this matters to you how?”
“It matters because he’s going to get in the way.” Matt also stood and faced her with matching anger. “It’s bad enough that you are involved in this damn diamond smuggling investigation. Now I’ve got to worry about a pencil pushing accountant who thinks he’s on some romantic journey!”
“He’s not an accountant. He’s the staff director.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said with rising heat, “he’s trouble.”
“Are you sure you aren’t feeling peevish because a rival male has arrived on the scene?”
“Peevish? Damn right I’m feeling peevish.” He grabbed her then and yanked her up against his body. “Are you sure you aren’t feeling peevish because I haven’t kissed you in what seems like years?”
“Don’t even think you can—”
He didn’t let her finish the sentence. His lips captured hers and made good on his threat.
* * * *
God, she tasted good. She fit his frame perfectly, everything touching exactly as it should, and the friction created as she shifted to better mold against his body teased him mercilessly. Never had he met a girl who so exasperated and ignited him as thoroughly as she did.
He wanted her. He shouldn’t have her. The right thing to do was back out of the picture right now. He came here tonight to do just that. Instead, he sent confusing signals, one minute determined to walk away, the next acting like a jealous lover. What the hell was wrong with him?
Trouble was, he liked her. He liked her nerve, her spirit, the easy way she adapted to any surrounding. And more than that, he liked the way she tasted and smelled, the way she fit in his arms. He wanted to fill every last evening she had in Africa with steamy molten passion. Make crazy hot love to her until she lay exhausted, then do it all again.
But guilt got in the way. She deserved better than a man locked on a vendetta. She deserved someone like Hank. Stable, dependable, house in the suburbs kind of Hank.
The very thought made him furious, and the pressure of his kiss increased. His arms wrapped around her, hugging her every curve, and with a sharp tug he eliminated the last inch of space between them. She never flinched, only turned soft and pliant in his arms, returning his kiss with a passion that consumed him.
The pressure of her breasts against his chest was agony. Something he sought to make worse by rubbing a forearm over her gently rounded b
ottom, pulling her closer against his fast-growing arousal.
A low growling moan surrounded them, but he didn’t know if it came from him or her. All he knew was that he had to have her, right now, before his mind gained any kind of control and reasoned him out of it.
He lifted her in his arms and carried her the last few feet to her cabin. She had the key in her hand, but he wouldn’t release her, just angled her enough that she could unlock the door. He carried her across the threshold, then kicked the door shut with his foot. She squirmed to get down, but he refused.
She belonged to him. It was irrational and foolish and inescapable. And before this night was through, she’d know it too. He entered the bedroom and tossed her on the bed, following her down with every intention of ravishing her until she lay spent and exhausted.
* * * *
She knew what was coming and couldn’t wait. Knew it was shameless, too, but she wanted him and didn’t care that her heart would be shattered when her time here ended. She had two weeks. Better than that, she had right now.
He claimed her heart with his kiss, kept her breathless with wanton anticipation as he explored every inch of her. His hands left nothing untouched as he rubbed, teased, and kneaded her skin.
Somehow during the process, he’d divested her of all clothing, his too, and they were gloriously naked with limbs intertwined, skin against skin, awash in erotic sensation.
There existed an unspoken challenge, a need that radiated from him, and she responded by giving herself over to his lovemaking. Every touch, every caress, linked her irrevocably to him. There was no turning around, no holding back. He demanded it all, and she willingly surrendered.
It was easy, so incredibly easy to do. She loved the way he touched her, the way his weight nestled her into the softness of the bed when he rolled on top and kissed her. She loved the feel of his skin, and ran her hands over his back, enjoying the play of hard muscle beneath her palms. This wasn’t like the night under the stars. That had been urgent, explosive, fiery. This was a slow burn, a possession, and when his head lowered to her breasts to nip and taste, his tongue swirling over her hardened nipples, she arched her back, offering herself fully, begging for more.
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