Chapter 40
“Welcome to my humble home,” Tevio said and lifted a hand toward a clearing in the jungle. Eddy followed Durrand who paused momentarily to hold back a banana leaf for her to pass.
The house was a simple, rectangular design. A deck of sorts encircled the top floor. The exterior was made of cool, pale stucco. The roof was red tile, the doors blue. Not fifty feet away, a fence contained hump-backed cattle and a smattering of horses.
“Oh,” Eddy exhaled at the homey beauty of the place.
Tevio shrugged. “I am certain it is as nothing compared to what you have in the United States of America, but it is where I first brought my young bride.”
“You’re married?” Eddy asked. They were making their way toward the house. Natural wood railing twisted its way about the long upper deck.
“For most of four decades,” he said. “But I fear she passed some eighteen months ago.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He sighed. “Dalia and I had many happy years together. She gave me seven wonderful children.”
“Seven!” Eddy said and noticed that Durrand was studying the farmyard with narrowed eyes, as if expecting commandos to jump out from behind every frond. But she could feel only serenity here. The sun was just setting, turning every droplet to diamonds on a million serrated leaves.
“Five sons and two fine daughters. I am a blessed man,” he said. “But enough of me. Come in. We will get you dry and fed.
Opening the sky blue door, he motioned them inside. “Luisa, we have guests,” he called.
A plump woman hurried from the cool bowels of the house. She bobbed a greeting, and as Tevio spoke in rapid-fire Spanish, her weathered face turned grim. Then she turned briskly and hurried away.
The little man chuckled quietly.
“We don’t want to put you out,” Eddy said.
But their host shook his head. “Do not let Luisa fool you. She adores company. It is simply that she is vain.”
“Vain?” Eddy asked.
“My housekeeper, she is an exquisite cook. She but worries that her skills will not be shown in the best light since she was not expecting you.”
“We brought our own supplies. We’d be happy to make do with what we have,” Durrand said, but Tevio waved away his protests.
“Luisa would never forgive such an affront to Colombian hospitality. No. I will show you to your rooms. When you have rested, the meal will be served.”
They tried again to dissuade him from going out of his way for them, but he shushed them.
“Please allow me to share my humble home. And do not judge us simple Colombians too harshly.”
“What do you mean?” Eddy asked and glanced about. Crystal clear photographs graced the walls. Bright snakes and exotic birds watched them from a dozen wooden frames. “You have a beautiful house, and the pictures are amazing. Are these yours?”
“An old man’s silly hobby,” he said. “Dalia sometimes suggested that if I put my skills to something more useful we could have indoor plumbing. But as it is, I fear you will be forced to shower outside. So if you spy a stray gecko or anole do not be concerned. Most are perfectly harmless.”
For a moment, his gaze rested on Eddy’s and then he waved them into a dim room. “Please, make yourself at home. You will find towels in the drawers there and a wash basin through that doorway.” He motioned toward an open archway at the end of the room. “Luisa will call you when the meal is served.”
In a moment, they were alone. Eddy dropped her shoulders and sighed. The room was small and cool. An old armoire stood near the corner. A picture of the Madonna stared at them from beside the window. The bed lacked a headboard. The mattress was narrow, bowed in the center, and boasted a single blanket; she’d never seen anything more beautiful in her life. It begged her to tip onto it, to test its softness, to fall into its dreams. But she had no desire to dampen the coverlet and spoke before her will weakened. “Do you want to get cleaned up first or should—” she began, but in that second Durrand kissed her.
She gasped, then caught her breath as his fingers slid into her hair. Surprise torched through her, followed by something else, something warmer and heavier. His tongue touched her lips. She opened her mouth to the onslaught and in that moment, he pulled back a quarter of an inch, still cupping the back of her head with his strong fingers.
“We’re tourists,” he whispered. “And lovers.”
She stared at him in stunned silence, but the meaning of his words seeped slowly into her fatigued brain. “You don’t think—” she began, but he leaned in again. His kiss was slower this time, weightier.
“Grab a shower,” he ordered finally, voice louder now and husky with meaning. “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”
She would have argued…probably, but her lips seemed incapable of formulating any kind of articulate phrases. In fact, nodding was almost out of her range of possibility. Still, she tried to speak, cleared her throat and tried again. “Where did he say the shower was?”
He nodded his approval, then glanced around the room, eyes sharp as he peered into every corner. “Outside. Just around the corner, I think. But hurry. I miss you already.”
“All…all right.” She tried to think what she would say at that point if they truly were newly married, but it was out of her realm of expertise. “I’ll just…get cleaned up.” Sexy. Very sexy, she thought and found a towel with unsteady hands before turning away, but he stopped her.
“Undress in here,” he said.
Her mouth dropped open. He smiled. Good God, how had she forgotten what his smile did to her gut? How it grabbed her from the first moment? It wasn’t as if she attacked men in restrooms every day of the week…or ever…until he had come along. Until he had grinned, showing that spark of humor, that small, almost uncertain glimpse of hopefulness.
“Where I can watch,” he added.
“I just… Okay.”
She dropped the towel on the bed and reached for the buttons on her blouse. Her heart felt funny and her throat dry. Holy crap. Maybe she should find it amusing that his presence unnerved her more than the drug runners and carjackers and would-be rapists she’d encountered. Then again, she wasn’t throwing up…yet.
Her fingers felt cold against her skin as she slipped out of her shirt. Then, holding her breath, she pulled off her bra and managed to glance up. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized he wasn’t even watching her. She turned to the right, feeling an odd niggle of anger shoot through her. Holy shit. He wasn’t even in the room!
She shook her head and reminded herself it was all a ruse. A deadly game played in an attempt to keep them both alive. Which was a good thing. A valiant thing. So why the hell was she mad?
“You’re as beautiful as the day we met.”
She jerked her head to the left where he had just stepped out of the little wash area at the back of the room.
Their gazes met. He remained absolutely still, as if waiting.
She stared at him, face hot. It took her half an eternity to realize she was expected to play along. She swallowed hard and gave it a try.
“I could say the same for you.” She tightened her hands to fists. Holy smokes, what was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if she’d never had a lover. Well, maybe the word lover was kind of a presumptuous word. But she had had sex. And more than once. She raised her chin, already angry at the need to defend her sexual maturity and fighting for some clarity as to the kind of dialogue that normal couples might exchange. “…if you’d get out of those clothes.”
He raised his brows at her, eyes alight. “You know what happens when I get naked.”
Holy crap! “No,” she said and managed, though she would never know how, to put a little purr in her voice. “It’s been so long I think I’ve forgotten.”
The hint of a smile lifted his lips. A mesmerizing mix between mischievous boy and wounded warrior. “I guess I’ll have to refresh your memory then,” he said and pulled off his shirt.
Unlike him, she couldn’t help but stare as he peeled the garment from his chest. Couldn’t help the punch of desire that hit her solar plexus as he dropped it on the floor. She knew the sight shouldn’t affect her. They were just playing a game, after all. And it was just a chest. A male chest. A very male chest with muscles bunched in all the right places and small flat nipples set high on bulging pectorals. Then there were his abs, rolling moguls that…
But hold the phone…he was unbuckling his belt.
“You next,” he said and slowed his motions as he nodded toward her. For a moment, she was absolutely frozen, but finally she managed to blink and forced herself to sit on the edge of the bed. Unlacing her boots, she toed them off.
“Now you,” she breathed.
He chuckled. The sound was low and as sexy as hell. In less than fifteen seconds he was entirely naked.
And God Almighty, he was pretty, his chest hard, his belly flat, his legs long. Nestled between his powerful thighs, his balls were pulled tight against his upended cock.
She tried to think of something to say. Somewhere to look. Something to do. Absolutely nothing came to mind. Her brain had wilted.
“Your turn,” he said.
Her face felt hot. Her hands cold.
“Sarah?” he said.
She wrestled her mind into submission. Pushing herself to her feet, she put unsteady hands on the button of her khakis. With some effort, she was able to get it undone, managed to pull down the zipper and slide her pants, panties and all, to the floor.
When she tossed them aside, he was no longer smiling. They stared at each other. And then he stalked toward her. She felt her head fall back, felt her heart gather speed, like a deer about to bound away.
He touched her arms, smoothing slowly downward. His lips landed on hers again, softly now, as sensual as a dream.
“Be careful,” he mouthed.
She opened her eyes. His face was only inches from hers, his mouth a slant of desire so near she could feel his breath. His body so close his taut desire pressed against her belly.
She nodded and turned away on shaky legs.
“Sarah?” he said. She pivoted back, barely able to manage that much and watched as he raised his gaze back to her face. “Much as I enjoy the view, I don’t care to have others do the same.”
She blinked, entirely unable to guess if they were still playing the game. His eyes were dark, his lips tilted, his throaty tone as sexy as a forbidden dream.
“You might want this,” he suggested and raised the threadbare towel she’d dropped on the bed.
She reached for the terrycloth. Their fingers brushed. Sparks soared between them like skittish fireflies.
She jerked her gaze to the side then forced herself away, knowing he watched her as she turned, wishing her butt were rounder, her hair thicker, her…
“And sweetheart?”
She turned again, breath held.
“You might want to lose the socks.”
“Oh…” Her voice sounded hopelessly breathy, but she managed a nod and tugged them off under his perusal.
Entirely uncertain where to look, she jerked her gaze away, wrapped the towel around herself with the speed of light and all but sprinted toward the dubious safety offered outdoors.