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She looked up sharply, the eyes that had been ice-clear now silvery and impossible to read. ‘Only rumours?’
‘Almost certainly. Rumours—most of them false—run hot through Sant’Rosa. The people are barely coping with the aftermath of a bloody ten years of civil war, and in spite of the peace treaty they still don’t trust the Republic over the border.’ He paused. ‘The receptionist comes from the village you want to visit, and she’s just told me that the preacher has disappeared.’
‘And that’s bad?’
‘Almost certainly not,’ he said, hoping he was right.
Because it was too easy to watch her face, he switched his gaze to a family, parents shepherding two small children. Armed with beach toys and a couple of inflatable rings, the children dashed into the improbably turquoise lagoon, yelling and laughing as they splashed each other and their parents.
That itch at the back of his neck sharpened his senses to primitive alertness, a fierce, feral reaction to stimuli his rational brain couldn’t process.
Which was why he was resisting the compulsion to bundle up these helpless family groups—and the woman opposite with her cool touch-me-not air—and get them out of here on the next plane.
He didn’t dare follow his impulse because the local tribe had sunk every bit of cash they had into the resort; a false alarm, with the resultant bad publicity, could see them lose it all.
The woman opposite was watching the group too, her mouth curving as one of the children shrieked with delight. Grimly, he cursed his unruly loins for responding to that smile with piercing hunger.
Lauren Porter frowned. ‘So are this preacher’s followers likely to turn violent when no saviour turns up with all the blessings of western civilisation free for the taking?’
‘I doubt it. They’ve seen what fighting does, so they’ll almost certainly drift off through the bush to their native villages.’
But they were edgy and frustrated. Peace hadn’t brought the people the benefits they’d longed for, and many were ripe for unscrupulous manipulation. When the promised saviour didn’t eventuate the preacher might try to salvage his slipping authority by suggesting they collect the material benefits from the nearest place that had them.
They wouldn’t go to the mine, which had its own private security force; they’d choose easy pickings. In other words, the resort.
All ifs and buts, with absolutely nothing to base it on. Guy shrugged, trying to banish that needling premonition.
‘But they might not,’ she said shrewdly, and echoed his thoughts with uncanny accuracy. ‘Perhaps they might decide to come and get the goodies for themselves.’
‘It’s unlikely, and even if they did, the police are watching the situation very closely. The resort would be notified in time to get you out.’
‘And everyone else too, I hope.’
‘Trust me,’ he said with a smile he hoped was reassuring.
The arrival of the bartender with their drinks silenced her; Guy eyed her from beneath his lashes, controlling the sharp appetite her presence roused. The combination of thoroughbred lines and the gentle curves of her breasts and hips packed an explosive impact. Mix all that with silky black hair and eyes of cool, translucent grey, and you had trouble.
He wasn’t even going to think about her mouth; it did serious damage to his objectivity.
Lifting his beer in silent salute, he said, ‘At the moment it wouldn’t be sensible to go into the mountains.’
‘What about you?’ she asked abruptly.
‘What about me?’
‘Would you go there?’
‘If I had to,’ he said warily, watching her.
‘So you could take me with you to the village?’
Even softened by femininity, her jaw was combative. God save him from stubborn women, and this one in particular. ‘I’m not taking you there,’ he said curtly.
‘Of course I’d pay you.’
‘Lady,’ he said, angry in a way he’d never experienced before, ‘I am not going, and neither are you. If you want to see how the third world lives, the resort will organise a tour to the local village.’ His voice was scathing.
Colour swept along those high cheekbones and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip.
Guy resisted the urge to lean forward and put a hand over her mouth to stop the ravaging of that ripe bow. He’d take much better care of it than she did…
It was no better when she drank some of her juice; how the hell did she make a simple act like that signal a prelude to sex?
Get over it! he ordered savagely.
Putting the glass down, she fixed him with a determined gaze. ‘I want to visit that particular village and tribe because a—a friend of mine has helped them set up an oil industry from sali nuts. I’m on my way to New Zealand on holiday, and I promised my friend I’d see how things were going.’
Marc Corbett, of course. Guy nodded, watching her from beneath drooping lashes. ‘Then you’ll have to tell your friend that I wouldn’t let you go.’
He wasn’t disappointed by her reaction to this deliberate provocation. Her smile froze, but she let it linger as she reached for her glass and lifted it once more to her mouth, keeping her gaze on his face while she drank the juice slowly and delicately.
Although he knew exactly what she was doing—using her female appeal as a weapon—his pulses jumped, and a carnal urgency heated his blood. When lust hit inconveniently he could usually kill it without too much effort, but this time he had to wrestle it back into its lair.
‘Well, that’s a moot point,’ she said sweetly, putting the glass back down. ‘I don’t know that you have any authority to stop me.’
She didn’t lick the juice from her lips; she wasn’t so obvious. Guy counted to ten before saying bluntly, ‘I’ll stop you if I have to handcuff you to my side until I can put you on a plane out. Going into the mountains might well be dangerous; if you pay enough you’ll probably get someone to take you, but you’ll be putting them in danger too.’
Her eyes were translucent, the grey soft as a dove’s breast, but intelligent and searching. She scrutinised him for several long seconds before nodding. ‘Yes, you really do mean it. All right, I won’t go.’
Surprised by relief, Guy picked up his beer and took another long swallow, welcoming the cool bitterness before realising that she hadn’t actually said she wouldn’t try to go. ‘Give me your promise that you won’t leave the resort.’
She looked at him with stony dignity. ‘You have no right to demand any promise from me, but I’m not stupid; I don’t want to put anyone in jeopardy and neither would my friend. I wish I could get in touch with the headman, though, just to ask how the scheme is going.’
That he could give her. ‘As far as I’m aware, it’s doing very well, but if you want to contact him, I have a mobile phone in my office,’ he offered.
She sent him a glance, cold as moonlight, from beneath her lashes. ‘Thank you, but I’ll ring from here,’ she said politely.
‘You can’t.’
When her brows shot up he explained, ‘After the civil war each village chief in this area was supplied with a mobile phone. Their link isn’t connected to the ordinary telephone system, which doesn’t extend much beyond the towns.’
After a moment’s pause she said, ‘I see.’ And added on a sigh, ‘It’s so beautiful here, like paradise. Why can’t it be peaceful too?’
‘There’s always a serpent,’ he told her laconically, getting to his feet. ‘And usually what it wants is power and money.’
‘Do you think this has anything to do with the fact that there’s a huge copper mine in this part of Sant’Rosa—and that the area has been under claim by the Republic for fifty years or so?’
‘You’ve done some research.’
‘I always research,’ she said calmly, thick lashes hiding her thoughts.
When they flicked up again she gazed at him with a limpid innocence that sent suspicion bristling through him.
He jibed, ‘And now you know its limitations.’
She ignored that. ‘It seems interesting that the preacher started destabilising the border area just after the international peacekeeping force left. If I were cynical, I might wonder whether the Republic hopes that perhaps they can use the cargo cult to foment trouble, then invade under the excuse of preventing yet another civil war.’
He nodded. ‘I’d call that realistic rather than cynical. Especially as the Sant’Rosan army is very small, and made up of units that still don’t trust each other after fighting on opposite sides in the war. How they’d fare in battle no one is prepared to say.’
‘Do you expect war?’
‘No.’ He drained his beer and set the bottle down on the table with a sharp clink. ‘Come on, we’ll go into town.’
‘Town?’ Lauren asked foolishly.
His brows lifted. ‘You wanted to use the telephone, didn’t you? It’s in my office in town.’
When she didn’t immediately answer he added with mocking amusement, ‘You’ll be perfectly safe with me. I have a reputation to uphold.’
And because she didn’t suspect him of anything more than an overdose of testosterone, she shrugged slightly and got up to go with him—although not before stopping at the reception desk to tell the woman where she was going.
That done, she hitched her bag over her shoulder. ‘I’d better go and get some money,’ she said brightly. And after she’d extracted her money from the safe that held her papers, she’d sling a shirt over her shoulders.
With an amused glance he opened the door for her. ‘Why? I don’t expect payment, and the shops aren’t open so late in the day. Even if they were, I doubt very much whether you would find anything to buy in them.’
Bother. She summoned her most dazzling smile, recklessly glad when she saw his eyes darken. ‘You’d be surprised,’ she said sweetly, going through the door ahead of him.
CHAPTER TWO (#u88f76df3-e888-5052-864b-e224043d63bd)
GUY’S vehicle could probably take the terrain on Mars in its stride. An elderly Land Rover, it possessed only the most basic conveniences and had never had air-conditioning, but that was all right; it didn’t have any windows either.
‘At least it doesn’t have bullet holes,’ Lauren observed with a kind smile that might have been overdone.
‘Only because I had them taken out,’ he said blandly, opening the passenger door for her. ‘It probably has cockroaches, though.’
She gave him a repeat of her smile, and forced herself not to search for insects while she waited for him to get in. Because her father, a motoring enthusiast, had taught her to recognise a well-tuned engine, she was surprised when he switched on the key; the battered, dusty vehicle ran like a dream.
Guy Whoever—or Whoever Guy, she reminded herself scrupulously—was familiar to the locals; most waved cheerfully at him, flashing smiles as he tooted in return.
She turned around to gaze at two small boys, hand in hand on the side of the road. ‘Are they born with machetes over their shoulders? They look far too young to be carrying such dangerous implements around with them.’
‘They call them bush knives here, and yes, they learn to use them almost as soon as they can walk.’
Rebuffed by his indifferent tone, she concentrated on admiring the jungle and the range of mountains ahead, purple-blue in the distant haze that indicated the approach of dusk. When they arrived at the little town, some miles along the road to the mine and the airport, the empty streets gave it a disturbing, almost sinister atmosphere.
‘Dinner time,’ Guy said laconically, stopping outside the only block of shops in the scruffy main street. He cast her an enigmatic glance. ‘The women prepare the food while the men wind down.’
Refusing to rise to the bait, she shrugged and opened the door to get out.
‘My office is on the first floor.’ Guy indicated a flight of stark concrete steps rising from the street.
Noting the casually efficient way he examined the street and the stairs, Lauren decided that he’d know how to deal with any threat. His seamless air of confidence placated fears she hadn’t allowed herself to recognise.
A large, anonymous room, his office was at least clean and tidy, with everything locked away in steel cabinets.
‘To keep the insects and vermin out,’ Guy said when he saw her looking around.
When eventually they got in touch with the headman of the village, Lauren spoke to him for some minutes, straining to follow his heavily accented English. The sali nut scheme was coming along well; the chief told her proudly of the oil-extraction process, and the amount sent to be turned into soap and other toiletries in New Zealand, and the teacher who had come to live in the village once they’d built the school.
‘I’ll tell the person who sent me,’ she said. ‘I’ve been told it might not be a good idea to travel to the village just now.’
‘Not good, ma’am,’ he said somberly. ‘There are too many rascals around now. Come back next year, when it is quiet again.’
‘If I can,’ she promised.
From beside her Guy said, ‘I’d like to speak to him, please.’
Lauren handed over the receiver and walked to the window to peer down at the dirt road, still eerily vacant except for two small dogs glowering and posturing in a show of dominance. The buildings and trees were rapidly losing substance in the swift tropical dusk. Deep and thick and velvety, it softened the raw intrusion of the buildings on the timeless tropical landscape.
Covertly eyeing Guy as he rattled off what sounded like a set of questions, she learned nothing from his face. He was, she thought warily, big in every way—tall and lithe and powerfully muscled, his wide shoulders and long legs backed up by an overpowering air of strength, both mental and physical.
Conversation concluded, he put the phone in his pocket and said in his almost perfectly accented English, ‘Everything seems quiet there. The headman says the preacher is with his family high in the mountains—there has been a death.’
‘So we can breathe again,’ she said frivolously, shocked to realise how tense she’d been.
‘I hadn’t stopped,’ he returned on a dry note, and opened the door.
Unclenching her teeth, Lauren preceded Guy out into the darkness, tossing words over her shoulder like hand grenades.
‘I’m glad I can tell my friend that the nut-oil scheme seems to be working. It’s great that the villagers get a reliable income from their land without having to fell the forests for lumber.’ A little more steadily she added, ‘I wish I could have seen what they’re doing, though.’
Locking the door behind them, Guy responded with brutal frankness, ‘They’ve got enough to worry about without trying to keep you safe. What are your plans now?’
Lauren looked at the single naked bulb that lit the stairwell. Fighting back a highly suspect—and dangerous—temptation to linger a few days at the resort, she said too promptly, ‘I’ll leave for New Zealand as soon as I can. Tomorrow, if I can get a seat on an outgoing plane.’
Guy startled her by unlocking the door again. ‘You might, but don’t bank on it. There are only two a day, not counting the twice-a-week flight to Valanu.’
‘Where’s Valanu? I’ve never heard of it. Is it another town on Sant’Rosa?’
‘No.’ Back in the office he picked up a telephone and punched in a few numbers. ‘It’s a scatter of islands to the south, part of another small Pacific nation.’
‘The back of beyond, in other words.’
‘Or paradise, depending on your outlook. It’s a fair way off the beaten track,’ he conceded, a disconcerting thread of mockery running through each word as he surveyed her with unreadable eyes and a tilted smile. ‘But incredibly beautiful.’ His voice lingered half a beat too long on the final word.
Colour tinged the skin along her cheekbones and an odd sensation twisted fiercely in the pit of her stomach. Swallowing, she switched her mind to her half-brother’s holiday home in New Zealand, remote and lovely and utterly peaceful. Until she’d seen—until a short time ago, she amended swiftly, she’d been aching to get there.
And she still was. Jet lag had clouded her mind. As soon as she had some sleep she’d be her usual self. ‘Who are you ringing?’
