Moonflower (2 page)

Rolf was
of similar height to his wife, and just as weathered. ‘You must be
Sophie Kyle,’ he said, coming towards her. ‘Good to meet the person
behind the résumé.’

Sophie
stood to shake his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Bosman. I’m
really looking forward to the next three months. This is an amazing
opportunity for me.’

‘
Enthusiastic I see. Good. That’s what all your references
said, and your academic record speaks for itself.’

‘
Even better, it doesn’t put its foot in its mouth,’ Sophie
ventured.

After
they’d finished coffee, Sara took Sophie on a tour of the house.
She met the indoor staff, Patience and Beauty, who cleaned the
house and staff cottages under the watchful eye of June September,
the stern-looking cook and housekeeper.

Outside,
she was introduced to the two men who would be her partners in
crime: Isaac and Sipho, the Xhosa rangers who would help Sophie
with her daily duties. Part of her job description was their
supervision and training. Sophie was relieved to discover that both
men were brimming with good humour and enthusiasm. She wasn’t
feeling altogether comfortable yet in her new leadership
role.

That
afternoon, Frank Steyn, the farm’s vet, paid them a visit. He eyed
Sophie from the tips of her hiking boots to the now-untidy bun,
fresh face and sparkling eyes. He looked dubious. ‘This might be a
small farm, Sophie, but it still presents a challenge. I hope
you’re up to it.’

Sophie
tried not to take offence. It was an enormous challenge, but she
knew she could do it. ‘I don’t think Sara and Rolf would have
employed me if they hadn’t been sure I was the right person for the
job. But I realise it’s going to be a steep learning curve and I’d
welcome any help or advice you’d be willing to give me.’

Frank
nodded his approval. ‘A good start,’ he said, hopping into the
four-wheel-drive. ‘Let’s introduce you to your charges.’

They
headed for the bush.

Sophie was done for by the time she’d had supper at the house
and gone back to her cottage. Her cottage. She loved the idea.
Although she’d miss Sandy, there’d be no mess, she wouldn’t have to
chase down the soap before a shower, and she’d get to have a decent
breakfast every morning.
Heaven
, in other words.

The
thatched cottage was tiny: sitting room/kitchenette, bedroom and
bathroom. But they’d gone to some trouble to furnish it in keeping
with the game farm theme.

Sophie
went to bed early that night. She wanted to be fresh in the morning
and ready to make a knock-out impression.

Chapter
Two

Sophie
liked to wake as the sun rose, which is why 5:30 a.m. saw her
humming in the shower. She loved the crispness in the air before
the heat set in. Even better, the quietness of the morning gave her
the feeling that she had the world all to herself, and she revelled
in the anticipation right at the beginning of the day; as if
absolutely anything could happen.

By six
she was behind the wheel of a Land Rover, heading east along a dirt
road towards the sun rising over the mountains.

It was
soon after spotting a small herd of duiker buck in the distance
that Sophie felt a lack of buoyancy on the left side of the
vehicle. She stopped and got out to inspect.

‘
Damn! Twenty minutes out and a puncture,’ she told the morning
air.

She went
to the back of the vehicle and took out the jack and tyre iron,
laying them on the ground beside the damaged tyre. Hauling the
spare down, she placed it beside the tools, and climbed back inside
to fish out a pair of gloves from the glove compartment.

As Sophie
rounded the vehicle, she saw a baboon on the ground beside the
spare tyre. Hands gripping the treads, the animal had its head
close to the tyre’s centre, its backside sticking up in the
air.

Cape
baboons were not to be trifled with. There was absolutely nothing
Disney-like about these creatures. From the size and the greyish
brown of his coat, Sophie could tell he was a young male, which
meant he was likely to be full of mischief and bravado, not to
mention the owner of some pretty vicious teeth. Luckily he hadn’t
figured out he had company yet.

Sophie
quickly retrieved her .375 rifle.

This
time, when she arrived at the rear of the vehicle, her furry
visitor looked up, did a double-take when he saw her, took a step
back and let out a loud scream.

Sophie
almost did the same. She raised the rifle, though she had no
intention of using it unless she was attacked. It was simply a
precaution. She stayed utterly still.

Seconds
ticked by, then the animal leapt forward, grabbed the tyre iron,
turned tail and headed across the grass towards a copse of trees.
Sophie hoped he’d drop the tyre iron en-route, but it seemed he had
no intention of giving up his booty. He reached a large guava tree,
scooted up the trunk, along a branch, and squatted above her with
the tyre iron placed across his knees.

Sophie
scanned the area for the rest of the troop. Nothing. That was
good.

Standing
at the base of the tree she called up, ‘Come on, Mike the Mechanic,
give me a break. It’s my first day on the job.’

Nothing.

‘
Please don’t make me have to call the guys out to rescue
me.’

The
baboon pulled his lips back, showing off a large pair of sparkling
teeth.

‘
It’s not funny, you little savage!’

Clutching
at the tyre iron, the baboon screamed defiance at her. A moment
later, he scooted along the branch and was lost in the foliage. He
reappeared suddenly and before Sophie could blink, something
exploded against her chest—a large, over-ripe guava. Juice, pips
and flesh soaked into her shirt and dripped down her
front.

With a
shout of triumph, the baboon disappeared along the branch, still
clutching the tyre iron. Sophie decided to give up. She’d go back
to the truck and radio for help, after she’d changed her shirt. She
had a spare in her vehicle.

She took
the shirt off to avoid the sticky mess seeping through to her bra
and stomped off across the grass. She was several metres from the
vehicle when she noticed a man standing beside it. He was in
tailored chinos that sported perfectly pressed seams. His shirt was
pale blue and the shoes were probably Italian leather.

Sophie tried with as much finesse as possible to unfurl the
shirt scrunched into a ball in her hands as the
veld
began to run out between herself
and the vehicle. She pressed the material to her chest, ignoring
the squelch of guava flesh against her skin.

A more pragmatic part of Sophie’s brain said:
not your fault, can’t be helped
. She strode towards the man, doing her best to carry off her
approach with as much dignity as her white, lacy bra would
allow.

When she
got within a couple of feet of him, her heart began to jump up and
down like that crazy baboon. The man waiting at the vehicle was
Reuben Manning. Sophie groaned.

She
recognised him from the photos she’d seen on the internet. If he’d
been handsome in photographs, in person he was devastating. For one
thing, those pictures hadn’t given the full effect of his broad
shoulders and height of at least six foot three. And it wasn’t his
height alone that was impressive: it was also the high forehead,
sculpted cheekbones, square jaw, thick dark hair; the early morning
sun glinting off an undulating wave. No wonder he’d done so well in
business. She didn’t think there was a man or woman alive who could
possibly say no to him.

But it was the eyes that started a pounding in her chest: they
were the closest to navy blue she had ever seen. There was an
unusual intensity to them as they slid towards her chest, narrowed
and lingered there.
Her chest!

Sophie
pressed the shirt to her sternum, trying to control the
breathlessness that made her full breasts even more noticeable as
they moved up and down, up and down.

Neither spoke. His eyes met hers and Sophie quickly looked
away from the energy that flashed from them.
Not a man to be trifled with
. The
thought flitted through her mind as she watched the breeze ruffle
his hair. She glanced at the sensuous mouth, now drawn into a hard
line, the strong jaw. Everything about this man exuded power and
success. She hoped he wasn’t cruel.

You’re a professional
, Sophie told
herself.
You’ve worked hard for this, so
show him who you really are
.

‘
Hello, Mr Manning. My name’s Sophie Kyle. I’m your new
conservationist.’

Reuben
Manning stared at the woman in front of him. He wasn’t sure what
he’d expected his new conservationist to be like; but a beauty, all
long golden limbs and bronze hair, stomping through the bush with
rifle in hand, wearing sturdy hiking boots, shorts and a lacy white
bra, definitely wasn’t it.

He took
the hand held out to him. Her grip was strong, confident, and a
little sticky. The heat of her skin tingled in his fingers. He
withdrew quickly, wiped his palm against his trouser leg and
inclined his head towards her chest. ‘Do you usually walk around
like that out here? That standard conservation
practice?’

He’d
expected her to drop her eyes, look mortified. Instead she searched
his face. For what, Reuben wondered? Surely she didn’t think he was
joking. This was the person to whom he would entrust the safety of
his friends and business associates.

‘
No, of course not,’ Sophie said. ‘I got a
puncture.’

She
hesitated, moved the shirt against her chest. Reuben realised he’d
been staring at the tops of her breasts. Two perfect golden
orbs.

‘
So you took your shirt off to fix a puncture.’

‘
No, of course not.’ Sophie shook her head; a thick copper
ponytail had escaped the sedate bun, and swished
side-to-side.

‘
Well then, let’s hear it, Ms Kyle. Because what I’m seeing is
a far cry from the sort of professionalism I’d expect from an
experienced conservationist.’

Reuben
somehow wasn’t surprised at the fire that burned in her green eyes,
a luminosity like bright sunlight on a green garden.

‘
Let me assure you, Mr Manning, I
am
a professional. But the bush is
unpredictable. Unlike a corporation, it does not run on well-oiled
wheels. It is a world apart, with its own unique sense of time and
place. And so are its creatures.

‘
The reason I’m shirtless is because while fixing a puncture,
my tyre iron was stolen by a baboon. I followed the creature but he
threw a guava at me, and since I was alone in the bush I saw no
reason to be overly prudish about keeping a shirt on that was
dripping with guava pulp.

‘
But since I
am
a professional, I always carry a fresh change of clothing with
me, so if you’ll step away from the door, I’ll put that clean shirt
on.’

‘
A baboon…’ Reuben tried to picture the scene. Felt laughter
bubble in his chest. Decided against giving in to it. Instead, he
stared at her for long moments. She had a point, of course. In
light of a baboon stealing her tyre iron—again the laughter
threatened—her actions had been perfectly reasonable.

What a
creature! He couldn’t take his eyes off her. And speaking of fruit;
her lips were naturally deep pink, moist, bursting with youth.
Reuben’s mouth watered. His gaze slipped past her lips, over her
dainty chin and along a long, slender neck.

Damn it! He stepped aside, irritated with himself. Just
moments ago he’d accused
her
of being unprofessional, and here he was behaving
like a sixteen-year-old. With a muttered curse, he strode away from
the vehicle and stood with his back to her.

Sophie
scrambled into a clean shirt. As she did up the buttons she noticed
her hands trembling. Why was she going to pieces like this? Why did
she feel utterly devastated by his words, by the sight of him?
She’d never been a volatile type. And it took a lot to really annoy
her. She was usually the peacemaker. The one to defuse arguments
and confrontations. But just a couple of sentences and he’d made
her so angry.

It has nothing to do with his physique and sculptured
face
, Sophie thought, as she went to his
vehicle to borrow the tyre iron. She had always felt a little
disdainful of women who went obviously ga-ga over a man. Was Sophie
Kyle losing her head? No, she was sure it wasn’t that. It had been
his arrogance and the officiousness he’d brought to a situation
he’d had no understanding of. That’s what had got to
her.

‘
Leave that.’

Sophie
almost dropped the tyre iron at his command. ‘I can change a tyre,
Mr Manning. As long as I’m not bothered by another baboon, that
is.’

As soon
as the words were out of her mouth, Sophie could have bitten off
her tongue and fed it to a passing crow. This man was her boss,
after all. She turned slowly to see what affect her words had had
on him, but he didn’t seem the least bit perturbed. Sophie let out
the breath she’d been holding.