Hot ice - By Nora Roberts Page 0,38

from civilization, the better. The settlement would be a Merina tribe, if his memory of the guidebook was accurate. Just beyond was a narrow winding river. Part of the Betsiboka.

Eyes narrowed, Doug followed its trail while an idea formed. True, the river flowed northwest, but the notion of traveling by boat had some appeal. Crocodiles or not, it was bound to be faster than going on foot, even for a short distance. Traveling by river was something he’d have to decide on when the time came. He’d take an evening or two to read up on it—what rivers would suit his purpose best and how the Malagasy traveled by them. He remembered skimming over something that had reminded him of the flatbed canoes the Cajuns used. Doug had traveled through the bayous on one himself after nearly bungling a job in a stately old house outside of Lafayette.

How much had he gotten for those antique pearl-handled dueling pistols? He couldn’t remember. But the chase through the swamp where he’d had to pole his way across cypress trees and under dripping moss—that had been something. No, he wouldn’t mind traveling by river again.

In any case, he’d keep his eye out for more settlements. Sooner or later, they’d need more food and have to bargain for it. Remembering the woman beside him, he decided that Whitney might just come in handy there.

Disgusted, and aching from bruises, Whitney sat on the ground. She wasn’t going another step until she’d rested and eaten. Her legs felt entirely too much like they had the one and only time she’d tried the electric jogging track at the gym. Without giving Doug a glance she dug into her pack. The first thing she was going to do was change her shoes.

Replacing the glasses, Doug turned to her. The sun was straight up. They could make miles before dusk. “Let’s go.”

Cooly silent, Whitney found a banana and began to peel it in long, slow strips. Just let him tell her to move her ass this time. With her eyes on Doug’s she bit into the fruit and chewed.

Her skirt was hiked up past her knees as she sat cross-legged on the ground. Damp with perspiration, her blouse clung to her. The neat braid she’d fashioned while he’d watched that morning had loosened so that pale, silky hair escaped to tease her cheekbones. Her face was as cool and elegant as marble.

“Let’s move.” Desire made him edgy. She wasn’t going to get to him, he promised himself. No way. Every time he let a woman get under his skin, he ended up losing. Maybe, just maybe, he’d get to her before they were finished, but there was no way this cool-eyed, skinny lady was going to shake his priorities. Money, the good life.

He wondered what it would be like to have her under him, naked, hot, and completely vulnerable.

Whitney leaned back against a rock and took another bite of fruit. A rare breeze moved hot air over her. Idly, she scratched the back of her knee. “Up yours, Lord,” she suggested in perfectly rounded tones.

God, he’d like to make love with her until she was limp and slick and malleable. He’d like to murder her. “Listen, sugar, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover today. Since we’re on foot—”

“Your doing,” she reminded him.

He crouched down until they were at eye level. “It was my doing that kept your empty head on your sexy shoulders.” Full of fury and frustration, of unwanted needs, he gripped her chin in his hand. “Dimitri would just love to get his pudgy little hands on a classy number like you. Believe me, he’s got a unique imagination.”

A quick thrill of fear went through her, but she kept her eyes level. “Dimitri’s your boogeyman, Doug, not mine.”

“He won’t be selective.”

“I won’t be intimidated.”

“You’ll be dead,” he tossed back. “If you don’t do what you’re told.”

Firmly, she pushed his hand away. Gracefully, she rose. Though the skirt was smudged with red dust and rent with a hole at the hip, it billowed around her like a cloak. The rough Malagasy shoes might have been glass slippers. He had to admire the way she pulled it off. It was innate, he was sure. No one could have taught her. If she’d been the peasant she looked like at that moment, she’d still have moved like a duchess.

One brow rose as she dropped the banana peel into his hand. “I never do what I’m told. In fact,

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024