As he glanced up from the dock, Javier caught sight of a tall, very attractive woman waiting up at street level. Snug jeans hugged an ass he could wrap his big hands around, and as she turned in his direction, searching the street for something, his mouth watered at the way her T-shirt embraced her generous breasts. He drew in an appreciative breath as he caught sight of the intriguing face framed by thick, chestnut-colored, shoulder-length hair.
Unfortunately, the approach of an older, heavyset American woman with a camera slung around her neck and a knapsack across one shoulder precluded further observation.
“Senhora Morales, I presume?” he asked the woman, dipping his head in greeting as she paused before him, her thick fingers wrapped around a carefully folded map.
“If you’re her guide, I might say yes,” the woman teased with a smile that brightened her heat-flushed face.
“You’re not Senhora Morales.”
“Unfortunately, no. I’m looking for the ponte pensil to the ecological preserve,” she explained.
Javier efficiently told her the quickest way back upriver and toward the small footbridge to the city’s reserve. Then he turned his attention back to the task at hand and scanned the area again for the American scientist. He resumed pacing but nearly knocked over a woman who had snuck up behind him—the beautiful one from up on the street.
As he met her determined green-eyed gaze, it occurred to him that major trouble had just landed at his door.
“Senhora Morales?” he asked tentatively, praying all the while that she would say no.
“I’m not married,” she replied coolly.
“Senhorita Morales?”
She smiled sexily, lips full and teeth perfectly white and straight. He swiped at a trail of sweat as it slipped down the back of his neck.
“Actually, I haven’t been a senhorita in quite some time. Doutora Morales will do or, maybe better yet, Jessica.”
Warily, he said, “Fala portuguese?”
“I don’t speak Portuguese, but with my Spanish, I can understand a great deal. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Senhor Dias.”
She stuck out her hand in a no-nonsense gesture, and he reluctantly shook it. It wasn’t soft as he’d expect from a scientist, especially a female scientist who was built to be pampered like this one. Shaking off that thought and eager to put distance between them, he said, “Doutora Morales. I was hoping I could get you to reconsider—”
“Guess again, Senhor Dias.”
“Javier, por favor.”
“Javier, I intend to finish what Victor started,” Jessica said firmly. She glanced over Javier’s shoulder and noted a small group headed their way. In the lead was a man she had spotted hanging out in the hotel bar the night before when she had gone to get a drink. With the trip upriver taking six or seven hours, it had been impossible to head to the reservation the day before, as she had landed in the late afternoon, and night travel on the river could be dangerous.
Javier had offered to meet her at her hotel that morning. She had suspected his offer had more to do with persuading her to go back to the States rather than making her trip more comfortable, so she had opted instead to meet him at the docks from which his company ran its tours, thinking it would make it harder for him to refuse once she got her things near his boat.
“Who’s that?” She gestured toward the approaching group, and Javier turned. He muttered a colorful curse beneath his breath.
“Trouble?” she asked.
“O diabo ele mesmo,” he muttered.
Jessica could believe his comment. The devil approaching had a good half a foot on Javier’s six and almost that much more across the width of his shoulders. In contrast to Javier’s rather pleasing golden color, this man was dark everywhere. His hair, skin, and eyes were all as deep a brown as one could imagine before becoming black. A glower furrowed the sweat-shiny planes of his forehead as he stalked their way.
“Comecando o problema outra vez,” the man called out, fists the size of large hamhocks clenched at his side.
“No problems at all, Senhor.” She held out her hand, but the man ignored her.
“Didn’t you understand the last time, Dias?” he said in Portuguese, and jabbed Javier in the chest, rocking him back with the poke.
Javier shot her a glance, clearly controlling his response on her account. The brute was about to touch Javier again, but Jessica snagged his wrist in midair. The dark man laughed and jerked his hand out of her grasp, seemingly as interested in her as he might be in a small gnat. Angered, she took a step toward the bully, but Javier eased his arm across her body to keep her back.
“Armando, we don’t want any problems, compreenda? Senhorita Morales is just a friend of a friend I’m taking for a day trip,” he said. Armando finally looked at Jessica. His gaze turned to a leer as he took in her womanly figure and snug jeans.
“Senhorita? Well, I can help take care of that,” he said, and groped himself, eliciting a series of catcalls and jibes from the trio of men behind him.
“Basta. We’ll be on our way now,” Javier said, and held his hand out to indicate Jessica should head to the end of the wooden dock, where a small river boat was moored.
She hadn’t taken more than a step toward the dock when Armando snagged her arm and jerked her back. She stumbled for a moment before righting herself.
“Don’t touch me again,” she warned, but Armando merely threw back his head and laughed. His trio of hyenas joined him loudly enough to attract the attention of passersby along the wharf and the nearby street.
Javier tried to place himself between her and Armando, but Armando lunged at her once again. She neatly sidestepped him, and with a quick grab of her own, she bent Armando’s arm back and up, applying hard pressure to drive him to his knees.
“I told you not to touch me agian,” she pointed out calmly.
Armando fought to jerk free of her grasp, and when he couldn’t, his three minions came at her.
“Filho da puta,” Javier cursed beneath his breath, and threw himself at the trio, fighting them off while she struggled to keep her hold on the brute she had pinned on his knees. If he got free, there was no way she and Javier could fight off the group of violent men.
The sounds of fists striking flesh and the sickening crunch of bone suddenly gave way to a shrill whistle and thudding footsteps. The police were coming to break up the fight.
All three of Armando’s men lay on the ground, groaning while Javier stood above them, slightly winded but apparently unscathed. As he met her gaze, he shot her a vicious look and commanded, “Diexe-o ir!”
She released Armando as he had instructed, looking up at the approaching policeman. Armando glared at her, then shouted curses at his men and ordered them to get back to work. They scrambled to their feet and rushed away in the direction of a large tugboat at the far end of the wharf. In front of it was an immense load of timber.
When the officer was satisfied that the dispute was over, he left the dock.
“Let’s go,” Javier said, and snagged her arm. She dug in her heels, forcing him to stop.
He faced her then, and she noticed the raw-looking scrape along one high cheekbone. It would be bruised by morning, and she winced, feeling guilty that she’d put him in the position to get hurt. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Doutora Morales, you’ll know the real meaning of sorry if you get in Armando’s way again.”
Pulling back her shoulders and raising her head at a defiant angle, Jessica snapped, “I can take care of myself.”
Javier snorted and crossed his arms. “Really? Then I guess you can manage those bags all by yourself,” he said, motioning to her two heavy suitcases sitting on the dock nearby. “Let’s go,” he added, and walked away.
Jessica glared at his retreating back. She readjusted her knapsack and slipped it over both shoulders before picking up her bags and following him.
“Come mierda,” she muttered in Spanish beneath her breath as the weight of th
e bags dragged on her arms, but it wasn’t enough to keep her from noticing that the jerk had quite a nice ass.
Chapter 2
J avier didn’t address Jessica directly once she was onboard, except to advise her that they would arrive at the reservation by late afternoon. Perfect by her. It let her turn her attention to the many sights to be seen and captured with her camera along their lazy ride upriver.
The boat was wide and flat-bottomed, with a thick canvas canopy to diffuse the strong rays of the sun. The craft was clearly intended for short river cruises and not the prolonged overnight stays that Javier’s company offered on the larger passenger ships docked back in town. A trio of benches filled the center of the boat, but toward the stern was an open space. Two hammocks swung there lazily, probably for a mid-afternoon siesta.
The boat chugged lazily through the nearly black water of the Rio Galvardo, which moved more briskly than that of the Amazon. The dark coffee color was a byproduct of the tannins leaching from the bark of nearby trees. It had a rather beneficial effect: the tannins killed bacteria and mosquito larvae.
So far, Jessica hadn’t been bitten even once, and as she saw natives drinking and collecting water from the edges of the river, she assumed the tannins made the water potable as well.
The natives moved in and around huts that rose from the river on stilts to keep their floors above water during flood season. Some of the natives waved to the boat. A canoe or two ventured out into the deeper waters, intent on fishing.
A couple of hours later, Jessica noticed a large tugboat lumbering downriver and pushing a large barge loaded with cut timber. She recognized the emblem on the tug as the same one that belonged to Armando, which she had seen earlier at the dock. As it passed, she called out to Javier, “Why are they still cutting?”
Javier stood at the wheel of the boat, his too-broad shoulders stiff beneath the sweat-stained khaki shirt he wore. “The logging crews are far removed from the courts and their orders.”
She thought of the comments in Victor’s field journal about the fights with the loggers and his concerns that they would soon be at the location of the miraculous healing plant to which the shaman had guided him. If the loggers cut down those trees around the plant’s delicate habitat, a valuable and unique resource might be lost. She thought of her sister and others like her who would suffer for it.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Walking to the front of the boat, she stood beside Javier. Her lightweight cotton shirt was sticking to her from the heat of the day, and she stripped it off, revealing the tank top beneath.
He shot an appreciative glance at her body from the corner of his eye but didn’t face her. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
She’d been so busy taking in the scenery that she hadn’t noticed, but now her body awakened, and her stomach issued a noisy growl.
He smirked, and with a quick jerk of his head toward a cooler at his feet, he said, “There’s some sandwiches there. Soda as well. Help yourself.”
She bent and removed two of the paper-rolled sandwiches, offering one up to him. He lashed the wheel of the boat in place with a rope and grabbed the sandwich. He laid it carefully on the wood of the cockpit and peeled off his shirt. Like her, he wore a tank top beneath, exposing the powerful muscles of his chest and arms. She dragged her gaze away from all that enticing masculinity.
Leaning on the edge of the captain’s cockpit, Jessica unwrapped her sandwich and opened a bottle of soda. The sandwich was simple: spicy chourico sausage on crusty Portuguese rolls. She took a bite and murmured, “Delicious. Obrigado.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a smirk at her use of Portuguese.
Anger rose up swiftly at his condescending attitude. “You’ve obviously got a problem with me, so what is it? Have I done something to offend you?”
Javier ripped off a large chunk from his sandwich and chewed slowly, thoughtfully, before swallowing and turning his green-gold gaze on her. “You think that because you can say a few of our words, you understand us. That you have the right to barge in where you’re not wanted.”
“Where I’m not wanted? The shaman said—”
“The shaman thinks your pharmaceutical company will help him stop Armando from continuing his logging, but he forgets the risk that outsiders bring to our tribe.” He bent over and pulled a bottle of soda from the cooler.
Outsiders like me, Jessica thought sadly. It wasn’t an unusual attitude. She had faced it more than once during her travels. Locals who feared her research would change their way of life were always suspicious. She just wished she could learn to stop taking it so personally. “I won’t interfere in your ways.”
Javier snorted and took a long chug of soda before facing her. “But that’s exactly what they want you to do—to interfere, to get FUNAI and the courts to stop Armando, only…”
He shook his head and shrugged his broad shoulders. He eyed her up and down, the look mixed with annoyance and possibly attraction. “Get your samples, and then get out.”
She jerked back as if he had hit her. She fought to keep from slapping the arrogance off his handsome face. “You can’t order me around, Mr. Dias. I’ve got a job to do, and I’ll go when I’m ready to go.”
Grabbing what remained of her sandwich and soda, she stormed to the back of the boat. Whenever Javier glanced back at her over the next few hours, she glared at him. He cursed under his breath and focused on steering the boat down the dark river.
At close to four in the afternoon, Javier cut across the wide breadth of the river toward the shore. She saw a modest dock sticking out into the water. Well beyond it, nestled into the canopy of the rain forest, was an assortment of thatched huts and buildings. She realized this was the main settlement of the tribal reservation.
The boat bumped against the wooden dock, which creaked and groaned as Javier reversed the engines to force the craft closer. Natives from shore rushed forward to help secure the boat in place. Jessica stood at the back of the boat, feeling uncertain, while the natives showered attention on Javier.
He smiled and hugged some of them, jovially speaking with others. Both men and women were bare-chested and sported an assortment of tattoos and markings on their bodies. The bright red designs on their faces and bodies and on the palm headbands the men wore were probably achiote, Jessica realized. The men also wore strips of palm around their chests, waists, and foreheads.
At odds with the tattoos and palm adornments were the contemporary designs in the fabrics of the women’s skirts and shorts and the modern pants most of the men wore. The modern world had already touched them even in this most simple of ways, Jessica realized. No wonder Javier has concerns about outside visitors, she thought.
The natives eyed her just as curiously, pointing at her khaki shorts and tank top. They whispered among themselves as she tentatively smiled at them. A moment later, they quieted, as a group of older men approached from the village. No doubt, the tribal elders.
The man in the lead immediately went to Javier, embraced him, and clapped him on the back. When Javier realized she was watching his warm welcome, the engaging smile he had worn until then faded, and his full lips became a tight slash of disapproval. A muscle ticked along the fine, strong line of his jaw.
His continued resentment stung Jessica, although she hid it, pasting on her best smile as Javier formally introduced her to the man who had embraced him. “Doutora Morales. Meu tio, Antonio.”
Javier’s uncle was well into his sixties, with white hair, a bright smile, and an inquisitive gaze. He glanced from her to Javier, as if he sensed the undercurrents of dislike between.
“Boa vinda,” he said, and took her outstretched hand, clasping it warmly between his work-roughened hands.
“I am sorry about your friend,” he said carefully in English, surprising her. She had expected the tribe would speak only Portuguese, not English.
As if understanding her surprise, he added, “Javier’s mother, my sister, marr
ied a Brazilian scientist from outside the tribe who brought many American friends to our home.”
Jessica shot a quick look at Javier. His Brazilian father explained his larger height and build, as well as his caramel-colored skin, prominent facial bone structure, and dark hair color. At that moment, she realized her mami was probably right about her obsession with work. One of the most gorgeous men she had ever seen stood a few feet away, and she was looking at him as if he were a science project. She wondered if it bothered him that his mother had married an outsider.
Returning her gaze to the older man, Jessica lowered her head deferentially to his uncle, who she had been told was the tribal shaman. “Thank you for having me here. It’s nice to have someone make me feel welcome.”
Her pointed comment was not lost on the shaman, whose gaze once again flitted between her and Javier before he introduced the five men behind him. She shook the hand of each elder and maintained a respectful posture until Antonio slipped his arm through hers and led her off the boat. He waved at his nephew over his shoulder.
“Bring her bags to the hut, Javier. She will need some rest so she can enjoy the feast tonight.”
A small smile flickered across Jessica’s face as she realized Javier must be scowling behind her. Now whose turn is it to carry the bags? she thought.
Antonio took her through the heart of the village, pointing out various landmarks and showing her a thatched hut near the edge of the jungle. She wondered as they approached if it had been Victor’s hut.
“No, my dear. We have torn that hut down to release the spirits within,” he said, as if reading her mind. He motioned to a bare area a few yards behind the hut.
At the door, he patted her hand. “Rest. The trip on the river can be tiring. We’ve planned a special feast for tonight before I take you into the rain forest tomorrow.”
She hadn’t expected him to take her into the jungle so soon.
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