Moonflower (12 page)

Sophie’s
heart melted like morning dew on the savannah.

She said
nothing; shook her head.

'I've
missed you,' he said, cupping her face in his hands so she had no
choice but to breathe in the scent of him—unique masculinity,
expensive earthy aftershave.

He dipped
his head, touched his lips to hers. Played tenderly with her top
lip, then the fullness of her bottom lip. Sophie was breathing hard
by the time he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and she was
desperate for the taste of him; intoxicated, making her head
spin.

Sophie
shuddered as he pressed his hips to her centre. She tried to recall
Clarice’s words. Remember who she was before Reuben Manning had
taken over her body and now, it seemed, her mind. She knew there
was a bigger picture to her life. Long-term plans. She was Sophie
Kyle: conservationist, daughter, sister, friend. And what did she
really know about Reuben Manning, a man who seemed to present to
the world two faces?

Sophie
pulled her mouth from his; brought her hands up to his chest and
began to push away from him.

Reuben
stilled her hands, frowning down at her. 'Sophie?’

She said
nothing. Looked to her feet, because if she had to see his face,
the navy blue eyes and sensuous lips, she would come undone and
give in to him.

He
slipped a finger beneath her chin and gently lifted her face.
‘What's all this about, now?'

Sophie
tried to see him as if for the first time, without any of the
emotions she’d begun to feel intruding on her assessment. He
returned her gaze, openly, but there was a storm brewing in the
deep blue eyes.

She took
a deep breath and stepped away. 'I’ve just realised I'm not such a
big girl after all,' she said, and quickly left the
room.

If Reuben
had allowed himself such weaknesses, he would have spent what time
he had brooding about Sophie's reaction to him this morning. He had
to admit he hadn’t seen it coming. Not long ago she had left his
bed a contented woman. He couldn’t believe she was still upset
about the question of hunting when he’d ruled there would be none
on his farm. So what was Sophie’s game?

Was it a
childish reaction to her exclusion from dinner last night? It
couldn’t be. She knew the deal, and he'd only ever been honest with
her. They would spend time together when it suited them both; there
was no other place for her in his life.

But as he
thought about these things, something niggled at the back of his
mind. What he liked so much about Sophie was not only her
fresh-faced beauty, but her integrity and lack of artifice. He had
become tired of the games sophisticated women played. Sophie was
practical, young but strong, with an extraordinary career ahead of
her. He had assumed that she was in no more of a hurry to entangle
her life with his, than he was to alter his path for her. It was
the reason the arrangement suited them so well. Could he have been
wrong about her?

He felt
so damned guilty. Why had the fact that she was upset thrown him to
the extent that he spent moments of his scarce time trying to
figure out the cause of her unhappiness?

And now
that he thought about it, if he were playing by his own rules—that
they were to be together only when circumstances were ideal—why
couldn't he walk past her without pulling her into his arms? He
certainly did not want his friends and business associates to know
that he had a sexual arrangement with his very young
conservationist.

So why
did he risk looking at her in a way he was sure would tell anyone
seeing them that all he could think about was devouring her lips,
losing himself in her eyes, burying himself deep inside her until
he couldn't tell where he ended and she began?

Reuben
sighed as the phone began to ring on his desk. Well at least
tonight she was invited to dinner. With that, he dismissed Sophie
Kyle from his mind.

Sophie
made her way to the main house to let guests know that the
canopy-covered game viewing vehicles were ready to take them for a
bush drive.

This
time, when Mr Solomon popped up from behind a rose bush, Sophie
barely started at all. She stopped on the path to greet the old
man. 'How are you, Mr Solomon?'

'All
these people traipsing around.' He waved his arm in the direction
of the house and made a sour face.

'Hmm,'
Sophie said. 'I know how you feel. Kind of affects the atmosphere,
doesn’t it?'

'Here
then,' he said, and pulled a pink rose from behind his
back.

'You
spoil me, Mr Solomon,' Sophie said, reaching for the bloom. She
brought it to her nose, closed her eyes for a moment, and breathed
in its delicate fragrance. Studying the petals closely, she said,
‘Such a gentle pink. Like a baby's skin. So fragile.'

'Now you
remember, my girl,' Mr Solomon said, with some vehemence. 'She
never asked the sun why it shone, or demanded from the rain why it
came in its own time. She found her feet in fertile soil and
bloomed because it was her nature to do so.'

Sophie
bent her head and kissed Mr Solomon’s weathered cheek.

'Pffa,'
he said, screwing up his face. 'Off you go now.'

As Sophie
turned back to the house, she realised the grumpy old man had
lifted her spirits. She smiled, held the bloom to her nose, and set
off down the path again.

With pink
rose pinned in her buttonhole, Sophie drove one of the heavy
vehicles; Isaac and Sipho the other two. She was relieved that
Reuben had chosen not to ride with her. At least this way she could
be one hundred per cent focused. An absolute must on a drive like
this, over uneven terrain.

She
eventually brought the trundling convoy to a halt and asked
everyone to climb out. Right after a brief talk about the
importance of being careful where you put your feet and remaining
as silent as possible, she led the party along a dirt path, rifle
in hand.

Guided by her keen eyes and knowledge of the
bushveld
, the party were
able to spot porcupines, a bat-eared fox and small herd of
springbok that sprang away as soon as they picked up their scent,
jumping high into the air in graceful arcs. Now and then Sophie
would stop to point out a beetle, or plants and birds that were
found nowhere else in the world. She would tell these travellers
the stories of their struggles and their delicately balanced place
in the ecosystem.

They
hadn't been walking ten minutes when Gerry McTavish began to feel
the effects of his latest act of stupidity. He'd left his hat in
one of the vehicles and his freckled skin was turning an angry red.
Sophie had warned earlier that even though it was evening, the
sun’s rays were still able to do some damage.

But
McTavish was arrogant. He’d spoken under his breath all the way
through her precautionary talk and she was now tempted to leave him
to his own stupidity. But Sophie took pride in looking after her
charges, particularly those out of their depth in the bush. So she
went to Sipho and Isaac. ‘Take over while I go back for Mr
McTavish's hat.'

Setting a
brisk pace, she was soon back at the vehicles. She propped her
rifle against the front tyre of the second vehicle and climbed in,
but the hat was nowhere to be seen. She knew he had travelled in
that vehicle and distinctly remembered seeing him twirl the hat on
the end of his finger.

She went
to the last vehicle in line. As she got to the front bumper, she
realised that something was amiss—a sixth sense she'd developed
during years of field work. Then a water bottle came flying over
the back seat and sailed very close to Sophie’s head. A second
later, a furry head popped up. A baboon. Sophie thought it looked
like the young male who had stolen her tyre iron then pelted her
with a guava.

Her rifle
was out of reach. She took a step back. Stopped suddenly as the
baboon began to scream. The noise was deafening. Definitely a young
male, full of bravado and long, sharp teeth.

Sophie
froze, and after a moment he quietened down. Still keeping an eye
on her, he began to feel around the back seat. It was then Sophie
heard someone call her name. Reuben.

‘
Keep your voice down and don’t make any sudden moves,’ she
told him in a low voice, not taking her eyes off the hairy
visitor.

'You all
right, Sophie?'

There was
tension in his voice; she saw him out of the corner of her eye take
a step towards her.

‘
Don’t come any closer,’ she cautioned in a calm voice. 'Very
slowly, pass me the rifle. It's against the front wheel of the
second vehicle. No sudden moves. Very slow.'

The
baboon screamed as Reuben moved back, but he was distracted, now
having two threats to deal with. Reuben made as few movements as
possible, reached for the rifle and started back to
Sophie.

He came
up slowly behind her, his chest touching her back, and handed her
the rifle. In one swift motion, she put the firearm to her
shoulder, stepped away from Reuben and fired into soft sand about a
metre from where they stood.

This time the baboon did not make a sound. He shot up in the
air, landed back on the seat, gave her a filthy look and leapt out
of the vehicle, heading across the
veld
; McTavish's hat and a bottle of
mineral water clutched under his arm, an apple in his
hand.

'Just a
baboon,' Sophie said, resetting the safety on her rifle.

'Just a…
an animal like that can do serious damage, Sophie.'

‘
All in a day’s work,’ she said, shrugging.

Reuben
shook his head, fists pressed against powerful thighs. ‘That isn’t
the baboon that stole your tyre iron, is it?’

Sophie
burst out laughing and nodded.

‘
I don’t know how you can laugh about it,’ he said, coming
towards her. ‘You sure you’re okay? I can drive the other vehicle
if you’d like.’

Sophie
smiled at him and shook her head. ‘I’ve been doing this since I was
a teenager and I’ve had many encounters like this. I’m absolutely
fine.’

He had
put his arms around her. But not content to stop there, he pressed
her chest to his so she could feel his heart thundering in her ear.
He kissed the top of her head. Sophie raised her face and his lips
grazed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and when she sighed
deeply, he captured her lips with his.

Sophie’s
last rational thought was to lean the rifle against the nearest
tyre. Then her mind was filled with Reuben as she ran her hands
over the sinews of his bare forearms, felt the bristle of hair
beneath her palms, the heat and muscle; so strong, so masculine.
She melted against him, opened her mouth wider, hungry for the
taste of him, clutching his shirt, fingers winding into the hair
that curled at the nape of his neck. Then her hands found their way
to his chest, down over his belly with an urgency fuelled by the
adrenaline still coursing through her body. She began to pull the
shirt from his waistband.

With a
groan he broke away, took a shuddering breath and ran a hand over
his face. 'The others will come looking for us if we don't get
back.’

Sophie
looked around, amazed that she’d been more than ready to make love
to him in the middle of the bush while guests waited for their
return. Right there in the long golden grass, in the shade of the
vehicles. She frowned, shook her head to clear it and reached for
her rifle. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘
This part I understand, Sophie,’ he said, taking her arm so
she couldn’t walk away from him. ‘Just promise me you’ll never
confront a dangerous creature like that again.’

Sophie
couldn’t help it; she had to smile. 'I managed the situation as
I’ve been trained to do. This is my office, Reuben.’ She gestured
to the bush around her with not a little pride. ‘It isn’t my first
encounter with wildlife and definitely won’t be my
last.'

'Damn
it,' Reuben said, looking tormented.

‘
I think you should be the one to explain to McTavish that he
isn’t getting his hat back,’ Sophie said, striding off through the
bush with a grin.

Tables with the finest linen, crystal and china had been set
out in the circular
boma
; its dirt floor swept, fire blazing, and shielded from the
bush by a tall reed screen.

Sophie
ignored another suggestive remark from McTavish. The man was being
a pest. Truth was, it was Reuben who was her biggest problem.
Between McTavish’s unwelcome advances and her chats about wildlife
conservation with other members of the group, she was finding it
almost impossible to keep her eyes off their host.

So often Reuben just happened to be standing close to her and
it seemed he did not have to actually touch her to set her thoughts
jangling and her nerves tingling. She saw his eyes, intent on her
face, as she related a fact or answered a question while the group
milled around the
boma
with pre-dinner drinks.