Heart of Fire (18 page)

As she drifted into sleep, the events of the day played through her mind like scenes flashing across a movie screen. A jumbled image of the downpour battering them, then the shock on Martim's face just before he disappeared from view, brought her jerking back into wakefulness.

She dozed again, but her mind picked up where it had left off, reliving again those horrible, molasses-slow moments when she had seen Rick begin to fall and had thrown herself wildly at him, clawing at him to find a grip. For a split second of sheer terror she had thought they were both going to die, then those steel vises had clamped around her ankles and halted their downward progress. Ben. He had been right beside her, the only one who could have gotten there that fast.

Ben… something was different. She didn't know what it was. And why had she stopped being "sweetcakes" and become "sweetheart"?

The sound of the zipper on the tent flap woke her, and she tried to sit up, only to immediately freeze as her shoulder protested. "Bad idea," she muttered.

Ben's head poked in; then the rest of him followed. A steaming cup of coffee was in his hand; he carefully set it down, rezipped the flap for privacy, then turned back to her. Blue eyes sharply examined her face, looking for the telltale signs of pain and fatigue. As deeply as she had slept, she figured she looked dazed, but certainly not fatigued. He must have thought the same, for his face relaxed. "How do you feel, sweetheart?" She yawned. "If I don't move, I feel fine." He hesitated. "I think we should rest here for a day." "That's your decision; we'll do whatever you tell us to do. But you know I'm perfectly capable of walking, even if I can't carry a pack right now." She looked at the coffee. "Is that yours, or did you bring it to me?"

"Both." He slid a brawny arm behind her back and lifted her to a sitting position as easily as if she were a child. She grabbed the sheet and tucked it under her arms, covering her breasts, and a grin teased his mouth. "You didn't worry about that last night," he said as he placed the tin cup in her right hand.

Cautiously she sipped the steaming hot brew. "Of course I did. There just wasn't anything I could do about it."

He rubbed her bare back, his strong fingers digging in and testing for both stiffness and soreness. She closed her eyes in ecstasy, and a low purring sound came from her throat. "Umm, right there," she murmured.

"You're better than I thought you'd be," he commented. "Probably because you're in such good shape in general." He took the cup from her hand and drank, then returned it to her. "Now let's see how that shoulder looks."

It looked much the same as it had the night before, swollen and bruised, but she could move her arm a bit more before the pain kicked in. "I think I'll be okay with it bound," she said. "Give me some more aspirin for the inflammation, though. I never thought a dislocated shoulder would be so much trouble; I thought you just popped it back in, and that was that."

"Not quite," he said dryly.

"So I've discovered. Help me get dressed, and we'll get this show on the road."

"I have a distinct memory of you saying that it was my decision whether or not we moved on today."

"You must be hallucinating."

"I must be. You've never been that agreeable."

As he was talking he firmly tugged the sheet away from her body. A triumphant grin was on his face as he looked down at her, but it slowly faded and an absorbed expression took its place. Very gently he began stroking her breasts, finding them delightfully cool in the morning air, but they rapidly warmed under his touch.

"Don't you ever think of anything else?" she asked grouchily, to hide the response she couldn't suppress. She wanted to sink back and let those hot hands touch her all over.

"Sure." His tone was absent, his gaze locked on her breasts. Slowly he began to lower his head. "I think of how you'll taste."

"Ben!" Her protesting cry was thin, and trailed into silence. She shivered, all of the strength leaching out of her as his hot mouth closed firmly over a painfully sensitive nipple. She sagged against his supporting arm, her eyes closing as electric prickles spread from her nipple throughout her breast, then darted down to her loins. His heat surrounded her; the musky male scent of his body enticed her to bury her face against his neck and let him wrap his strength around her. His tongue roughly pressed her nipple against the roof of his mouth in a strong suckling motion, and the coffee cup dropped from her hand. She dug her fingers into his back, whimpering with pleasure.

"Shit." He lifted his head, his eyes slightly glazed, his mouth wet and sensual. "I didn't mean to do this." But then he bent to her other breast, cupping and lifting it to his hungry mouth, unable to resist giving it the same treatment.

When he raised his head again, there was an expression of acute discomfort in his eyes. Very carefully he stretched out his right leg and adjusted himself.

Shaking, Jillian drew back. "Serves you right," she said weakly.

"I know." He wasn't quite in control of himself yet, and he sucked in a deep breath. "Like I said, I didn't mean for that to happen. It wasn't fair to either of us."

She knew him well enough to realize he thought all resistance was in the past, that she was his for the taking as soon as her shoulder healed enough to allow lovemaking. Being Ben, in his estimation that would be tomorrow night. Dazedly she stared at the coffee she had spilled, a brown puddle on the nylon floor of the tent, and wondered why she didn't just go ahead and give in to him. She wanted to; she wanted
him
, damn it. But she didn't want casual sex, and she doubted that Ben could offer anything else. He wasn't the type of man with whom a woman could plan a future; he offered hot sex, a good time, but after he got up and put his pants on, he'd be gone. So, despite his self-confident air, the battle was still enjoined. She couldn't afford to lay down arms.

"Help me into an undershirt," she said shakily.

"You can do without one today. No one will know, and it'll be easier to undress tonight."

"I sleep in my underwear, so it won't be a problem. Just wrap my shoulder once I have the undershirt on, then put my regular shirt on over the bandage. If you think my arm still needs immobilizing, you can strap it to my side the way you did yesterday, over my shirt. That way my shoulder won't have to be unwrapped tonight in order for me to undress, and I should be able to dress myself tomorrow."

He didn't move, but the expression on his face was suddenly dangerous as he got the meaning behind her words. She had the impression of a male animal on the verge of violence, rigidly holding himself in check; only the instinctive knowledge that Ben wouldn't hurt her kept her from cringing in fear.

"You can't hold me off much longer." His voice was low and steely. "What's between us won't just go away."

She faced him, seeing the force of his arousal in the hard, taut planes of his face. "I don't have to hold you off forever," she said, a little sadly. "Just until we get back to Manaus. Then I'll be out of your life and it won't matter anymore."

He gave a short bark of laughter, a sound totally without humor. "Getting back to Manaus won't keep you safe from me, sweetheart. You're mine, and you're going to admit it no matter how long I have to keep after you."

"That's ego talking. Once we get back, some other woman will catch your eye, someone who won't mind being easy-come, easy-go."

"There's sure as hell nothing easy about you," he muttered. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but abruptly changed his mind and dug a clean undershirt out of her pack. His hands were as gentle as before when he helped her into it, then tightly wrapped her shoulder and finished dressing her as efficiently as if she were a child. Afterward, to her surprise, he knelt behind her and brushed out her hair, then caught it up in her usual ponytail. He ended by kissing the nape of her neck. "There. Are you ready for breakfast?"

She was, though he'd knocked her a bit off-balance with the sweetness of his care. She didn't want him to be sweet; she wanted him to be the Ben Lewis she was accustomed to: shameless, raunchy, and reckless. Brave, too, she mentally added, to give the devil his due. Intimidatingly capable. Dangerous. Ruthless.

For the first time, she wondered if she had a prayer of resisting him, if it wasn't a question of "when" rather than "if." She was doing something so stupid she could barely believe it of herself. She was falling in love with the man.

He called for frequent breaks that day to allow her to rest, and she did much better than she had expected. Though her wrists and shoulder were sore, she wasn't in any pain from them unless she bumped her bruises. The tight binding prevented movement in the shoulder joint, letting the strained ligaments heal. Since she wasn't carrying a pack, the trek was actually easier on her than it had been before her injury.

That night, when Ben unwrapped the bandage that had kept her left arm bound to her side, she found that she could move it without much discomfort, since the bandage on her shoulder still supported the joint. She managed to undress herself, though with slow care, and, after taking two aspirin, slept well.

The next day she felt well enough to do without restraining her arm and strode briskly along in Ben's wake. They were so high in the mountains that the altitude had eased the suffocating heat somewhat, and though they were still scrambling up and down steep grades she managed without undue difficulty.

They had been walking only a few hours that morning when abruptly they found themselves in what appeared to be a tropical version of a box canyon. The mountains rose vertically around them, and though the coded instructions clearly indicated they should go due north at this point, due north would have been possible only if they'd had wings. They all stopped, watching her expectantly. She looked up at the mountains soaring overhead, bare rock showing through in some places, but for the most part trees and bushes sprouted from every crack, turning the face of the cliffs into walls of green. Lianas thicker than her arm trailed to the ground, and wild orchids bloomed more profusely than anyplace she'd seen them before.

Ben walked over to her, carrying her pack. "Maybe you'd better recheck the instructions," he suggested.

She did, taking out her notebook and reworking the code, but the instructions still read the same. "We're in the right place," she said, puzzled.

"We can't be, unless we're supposed to shinny up the vines like monkeys."

"It says due north." She gestured helplessly. "That's due north."

"Shit." He took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "We must have strayed off course somewhere."

"Impossible. The landmark yesterday afternoon was right where it was supposed to be. We're in the right place, I know it."

He tilted his head back and looked upward. "Then you'd better come up with something else, because from my point of view, we're at a dead end. Not that this isn't what I expected, but if you don't change my mind quick, we'll be turning around and going back."

"What do you mean, going back?" Kates had approached close enough to overhear, and his demand was furious.

Ben gave him a sardonic look. "Don't you know that most expeditions like this turn up nothing? It's like drilling for oil. You pay your money and take your chances."

"But—but this was supposed to be a sure thing." Kates's expression had abruptly turned sickly.

Ben snorted. The rude noise adequately expressed his opinion of "sure things."

"We can't go back," Kates insisted. "We have to find it."

Jillian walked away to look more closely at the vertical wall of stone, advancing until the way was blocked by huge tumbled boulders and thick undergrowth. She tried to push away the welling disappointment and
think
. The professor had taught her to always think a situation through, to realistically assess the pros and cons. It was a discipline that had always stood her in good stead. She considered the facts. The way was blocked. They couldn't go up, and according to the instructions, that was exactly how they needed to go. She stared upward, studying each crevice in the rock, each tree, looking for anything unusual that might give her a clue.

Due north. No matter what, they had to go due north. And that was… She stared hard at the enormous boulder in front of her. Due north was straight ahead, not straight up.

Jorge was lingering close by. She turned to him and asked courteously, "Would you cut a strong stick for me, please?"

"Of course." He used his machete to hack off a sturdy limb for her. Another few whacks removed the smaller branches, and he handed it to her with the same grave courtesy.

She used the stick to probe the underbrush, making certain there weren't any snakes or other dangerous creatures hiding in there.

Ben came striding forward. "Jillian, wait. What're you doing?"

"Just looking," she said, slipping from view behind an enormous fern.

"Damn it, wait. We'll clear this out if you want."

After being in the bright sunlight, it took her a minute to adjust to the dimness again. The foliage was thick, forming a natural ceiling over her head. A butterfly lit on a leaf next to her hand and folded its quivering wings.

These boulders were huge and covered with vines. She reached out and placed her hand on the cool side of one that had to be at least two stories high. There was no telling how old these monoliths were; if they had tumbled from the top of the mountain, then probably even more of their bulk was buried beneath the soil.

"Jillian, I told you to wait." Ben appeared at her side, swatting away a vine. They were completely hidden from the others, who couldn't have been more than ten feet away. The vegetation was so thick that even the sound of their voices was muted.

She poked with the stick, swiping the ground, and took another step forward when nothing either leaped or struck at her.

"What is it?" he asked, closely watching her.

"Let's work our way behind this boulder."

"Why?"

"Because the instructions didn't say anything about going
up
," she replied.

His brows lifted. "I see what you mean. Okay. But I'll go first."