Fever (3 page)

Her clarification seemed to take Sara off guard. The pink flush of her cheeks vanished and she heaved a deep sigh. Her appealingly proportioned body visibly shifted from fight mode to cordial hostess.

“Great. Would you like to change clothes first? You can’t be very comfortable in that wet outfit. I’ll start a pot of coffee.”

“As you wish, Ms. Ambrosini.” Zak finally retrieved her bag and disappeared into the restroom.

“And the name is Sara, please,” she called after her.

Just as the pilot issued takeoff instructions, Zak returned to the cabin dressed in an outfit identical to the wet one she’d discarded. Sara was securely fastened into her preferred position by the window. Zak took the aisle seat, across from her client and the seat she’d initially intended to occupy, avoiding Sara’s inquisitive look.
And I will not explain myself. Not that I could anyway. For some reason, I just can’t be near this woman.
Her internal alarms continued but Zak was too tired to evaluate their meaning further. She rested her head against the seat back, enjoying the steady hum of jet engines as they climbed. Sara Ambrosini would engage her soon enough.

“Ms. Chambers?”

“Yes.” Zak spoke without opening her eyes. She hadn’t slept for days and hoped for a quick nap. That’s all it would take, just a few seconds and she would be as good as new.

“May I call you Zak?”

“Yes.”

“Can we talk now?”

The voice was tentative, quite a change from the earlier outburst. Zak reluctantly opened her eyes and turned toward her. “Yes.”

“You don’t say much, do you?”

“Only what’s necessary.” Sara studied her with a warm, encompassing stare that made Zak shift uncomfortably. The lack of rest was obviously affecting her senses, underscoring the fact that she needed a few minutes of shut-eye before they arrived or she’d be useless. “What do you want to know?”

Sara stretched across the aisle toward her, and the scent of vanilla perfume mixed with recent sex drifted past Zak. “First, I want to apologize for Rikki.”

Zak shook her head to dislodge an image of Sara and her blond paramour engaged in a hot, sweaty coupling. “No need. A woman shouldn’t have to apologize for her lover’s behavior.” Zak stopped because she really wanted to say that any woman who behaved the way Rikki did in front of Sara didn’t deserve her. It was disrespectful and demeaning to both of them and to their relationship. But Zak was in no position to offer such an opinion.

Sara seemed to consider Zak’s statement before she continued. “That may be true, but I seem to spend quite a bit of time doing exactly that. And while I’m groveling, I’m sorry for jumping down your throat earlier. It was unnecessary and unprofessional. I’d like to explain.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I need to.” Sara pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as tears welled in her brown eyes. She stroked the French braid that hung down her back, seeming to draw enough distraction from her feelings to continue. “My mother died a year ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Zak knew that pain. She’d lost her father three years earlier, and the memory was still raw. It stabbed at her heart, deep and poisoned with guilt.

“Thank you. We were very close. When she died, she left several conditions in her will that I had to adhere to before the estate was settled. This school in the African bush is the final one. It’s not that I mind honoring my mother’s wishes, but I don’t understand them. They seem like a series of mini tests that I’m failing miserably, like she’s pushing me toward something. When this school is finally built, I have to remain in Africa to help enroll and start educating the first class. I have a business to run. Doesn’t she know that?”

Zak was glad that Sara’s last question was a rhetorical one because she had no idea how to answer it or how to deal with all the emotion radiating from this distressed woman. Fortunately, Sara seemed to draw on some internal strength and switched from grief back to low-grade anger.

“So I’m dealing with all this uncertainty about what my mother really wants, what she’s trying to tell me from the grave, whether or not I can trust my girl—well, never mind about that, and
then
my corporate attorney tells me I’ll have a babysitter on this trip.” She eyed Zak contritely. “Sorry, but can you see how I might’ve been just a little keyed up when I came on board? Of course that’s no excuse for going off on you.”

Zak really hoped that question was also rhetorical, because in her opinion Sara was still more than a little keyed up. She prayed that when Sara settled down, some of the excessive talking would wind down as well. She was pretty certain she couldn’t take eight more hours of nonstop chatter.

“Don’t answer that question, but will you at least accept my apology?”

“Of course.” Sometimes Zak truly disliked the fact that her job had converted her into an introvert by necessity. When another person was being totally honest and vulnerable, she wanted to say something comforting and meaningful. But the words hung in her throat, trapped by too much emotion and too great a risk of exposure. So she fell back on the strong, silent persona that the job afforded her.

“And I’m sorry about the whole not-wanting-to-hire-you thingy.” Sara’s gaze faltered and her cheeks blushed with color.

“Is it true?”

“Technically, yes.”

Sara reached toward Zak, arms outstretched in a gesture indicative of an emotionally expressive person. Everything about this woman screamed honesty, openness, and sensitivity. Everything inside Zak screamed, “Caution.”

“As I said, I’ve been to Africa many times. I don’t need a bodyguard. The company insisted because of insurance liability. But I have to be able to contact people, to talk freely about their issues, and to appear at least that I understand and share their concerns. How will it look if I show up flanked by GI Jane commandos? No disrespect intended.”

“But you’ve—”

“I’ve never been in the bush or around the wild animals. That’s true, but how uncivilized can it be?”

“Very. You need to consider those wild animals, insects, snakes, weather, food and water issues, clothing, accommodations, security, and the political climate.” Zak ticked the items off on her fingers. Sara’s look was one of inquisitive amusement.

“You mean you can protect me from all those things? Perhaps I was mistaken about your services being necessary.” She grinned at Zak and mischief sparked in her eyes.

Zak processed what she’d just said and found it only mildly amusing. She had to relay the seriousness and immediacy of life in Africa and prepare Sara for what could happen. “Well, perhaps most of those things are your own responsibility, but you need to be briefed and prepped. Even an inadvertent mistake could be expensive or dangerous.”

Sara unbuckled her seat belt and moved to the seat beside Zak. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you, but I don’t communicate well long distance. I’m from a large Italian family and we talk about everything up close and personal. Distance is a barrier I don’t tolerate easily.”

“I see.” Having Sara so near was distracting. Her voice was like a rich liqueur flowing through Zak’s system, numbing all resistance. And the perfume that wafted from her as she moved hinted of warm vanilla and sugar.

The fact that she was likening her new client to an alcoholic elixir and delicious treats was testament to Zak that she was more tired than she realized. Her internal sensors were obviously malfunctioning on the most basic levels, which was risky. She had to stay focused and remember the rules. The mission was to keep Sara safe in spite of herself, to remain objective and detached. However, like all rich people, Sara Ambrosini seemed to think the only rules that applied to her were the ones she made. “We’re off track.”
And you’re entirely too close.

“Are we? Feel free to brief and prep me for the next eight hours, if you’d like. But don’t be offended if I nod off. Boring details are not my forte. However, if you’d like to exchange life stories, I’m all ears.”

“No.” The word came out with more force than she intended before she realized that Sara was only partially kidding. “Have you ever been to the Narok District of Kenya?”

“I’m not so easily distracted, but I’ll play along for now. Where’s that?”

Zak made note of her passenger’s skills of observation. “It’s where we’re going. Talek Gate, to be exact, just outside the Masai Mara Game Reserve. That’s the site of your school, or so I’ve been told. Am I mistaken?”

“No, no, you’re right. I just hadn’t heard it called the Nanook or whatever you said.” She gave Zak an apologetic shrug. “Listen, Zak, I—”

A sharp ringing sounded from the jet’s sat phone and Sara bent forward to retrieve it from the wall holder. Zak couldn’t help but notice her perfectly rounded ass precariously perched on the edge of the seat. It was her job to see that this perfectly shaped ass, those luscious breasts, and that long mane of tawny red hair made it safely to her destination still attached to this highly emotional, independent woman. She had a feeling this wouldn’t be the cushy assignment Stewart had described.

“Oh, hi, Rikki. It’s only been an hour. Do you miss me already?” Sara raised her index finger at Zak and walked to the back of the plane.

Zak reclined the seat, closed her eyes, and within seconds dozed off with the soothing cadence of Sara’s low whispers echoing through the cabin.

Mark 235 stared at her through disbelieving eyes filled with huge tears. “Why? I need you so much. Please tell me why?”

“It’s just over, Gwen.”

*

Sara ended her conversation with Rikki and tiptoed back to her seat. During her hour-long conversation, she heard incoherent mumblings from Zak, which probably resulted from her high-strung guide’s attempt to sleep. She’d never seen anyone rest so poorly. Her head thrashed from side to side as she muttered constantly under her breath. Sara tilted sideways to eavesdrop but couldn’t decipher anything from the mishmash of mostly foreign phrases. A woman this wickedly gorgeous was bound to have secrets that kept her up at night. But she was entirely too guarded to reveal them while awake or during her restless sleep.

Intrigued, Sara scrutinized her new employee without the need for pretense or explanation. Even in repose Zak’s well-honed frame appeared spring-loaded, ready to bolt into action. Her lanky legs stretched out in front of her like those of a newborn filly. Tapered hips and almost prepubescent breasts were all muscle, with nothing extraneous to encumber movement. The slender fingers of her hands coiled into fists in her lap, clenching periodically against some invisible foe. What could be so threatening that it haunted Zak as she slept?

Was it something from her past, her job? And what exactly was Zak’s job? Surely she didn’t spend her life escorting wealthy people around the world. That type of work didn’t require any special training or skills, and obviously Zak had been part of a disciplined program for years. She had a military presence and sense of dedication. Maybe she was a mercenary on leave doing a quick favor for a friend. Sara had so many questions about this woman to whom her safety had been entrusted.

After all, the only things she knew for sure weren’t very helpful. She’d been hired by the firm without Sara’s input and was outrageously expensive. She supposedly had a spotless reputation and had spent considerable time in Africa. Sara had learned these facts from her attorney, Randall Burke. But Sara had surmised a few things on her own. Zak Chambers was, either by nature or design, a very private person. She exhibited tremendous powers of self-control, even down to her bodily responses, as evidenced by Rikki’s failed seduction attempt. Her new escort either lived a dangerous life or was troubled by an unresolved past. Zak also seemed to have particular disdain for the rich, or perhaps it was just Sara personally. Why else would she purposely avoid a simple handshake when they met while allowing Rikki to feel her up? Though it was difficult, Sara had accepted the fact that strong, interesting women weren’t often attracted to her. If they were, it was usually for her money.

But if Sara was completely honest, she had to admit she had an intellectual curiosity about Zak Chambers. People who didn’t like to talk, especially about themselves, intrigued her. Such a woman surely had a lover, or perhaps several, tucked away in various parts of the world. And she had Rikki. It never hurt to look and admire a totally unattainable specimen like her new escort. Rikki would probably even approve.

Sara let her gaze travel up Zak’s torso to her thick, kissable lips. They were slightly parted, revealing a tiny gap between sparkling white front teeth. Her closely trimmed ebony hair curled tightly to her scalp. If it were long, Sara imagined, it would fall to her shoulders in wavy ringlets. The drawn features of Zak’s face were more relaxed than earlier, and dark fatigue circles marred the skin under her eyes. Sara wanted to brush away the signs of stress and weariness that clung to Zak’s body but quickly squelched her caretaking impulse. This woman neither wanted nor needed anything she had to offer.
Remember that and you’ll be fine.

Why did the reserved and inaccessible types who had no interest in her always intrigue Sara? And how did she end up with women more pretentious than grounded, clingier than independent, and more unfaithful than loyal? A slight quiver coursed through her body and settled in her groin as she stared at Zak.

“Have you finished?” Zak asked, without opening her eyes.