the air was right, hear the sounds of dogs or cattle. Voices didn’t carry. Distance and fatigue gave Whitney a sense of unreality. Perhaps the huts and fields were only part of a stage.
Once, through Doug’s field glasses, she watched workers bending over the swamplike paddies, many of the women with babies strapped in lambas papoose-style on their backs. She could see the moist ground shiver and give under the movement of feet.
In all her experience, her treks through Europe, Whitney had never seen anything quite like it. But then Paris, London, and Madrid offered the glitter and cosmopolitan touches she was accustomed to. She’d never strapped a pack on her back and hiked over the countryside before. As she shifted the weight yet again, she told herself there was always a first time—and a last. While she might enjoy the color, the terrain, and the openness, she’d enjoy it a hell of a lot more off her feet.
If she wanted to perspire, she wanted to do it in a sauna. If she wanted to exhaust herself, she wanted to do it trouncing someone in a few fast games of tennis.
Aching and sticky with sweat, she put one foot in front of the other. She wouldn’t come in second place to Doug Lord or anyone else.
Doug watched the angle of the sun and knew they’d have to find a place to camp. Shadows were lengthening. To the west, the sky was already taking on streaks of red. Normally he did his best maneuvering at night but he didn’t think the highlands of Madagascar was a good place to try his luck in the dark.
He’d traveled the Rockies at night once and had nearly broken his leg in the process. It didn’t take much effort to remember his slide over the rocks. The unplanned trip down the cliff had masked his trail, but he’d had to limp his way into Boulder. When the sun set, they’d park and wait for dawn.
He kept waiting for Whitney to complain, to wail, to demand—to act in general as he considered a woman would act under the circumstances. Then again, Whitney hadn’t acted the way he’d expected from the first moment they had set eyes on one another. The truth was, he wanted her to grumble. It would make it easier to justify dumping her at the first opportunity. After he’d skimmed her of most of her cash. If she complained, he could do both without a qualm. As it was, she wasn’t slowing him down, and she was carrying her share of the load. It was only the first day, he reminded himself. Give her time. Hothouse flowers wilted quickly when they were exposed to real air.
“Let’s take a look at that cave.”
“Cave?” Shielding her eyes, Whitney followed his gaze. She saw a very small arch and a very dark hole. “That cave?”
“Yeah. If it isn’t occupied by one of our four-legged friends, it’ll make a nice hotel for the night.”
Inside? “The Beverly Wilshire’s a nice hotel.”
He didn’t even spare her a glance. “First we’d better see if there’s a vacancy.”
Swallowing, Whitney watched him go over, strip off his pack, and crawl in. Just barely, she resisted the urge to call him out.
Everyone’s entitled to a phobia, she reminded herself as she walked a bit closer. Hers was a terror of small, closed-in spaces. As tired as she was, she’d have walked another ten miles rather than crawl into that tiny arch of darkness.
“It ain’t the Wilshire,” Doug said as he crawled back out. “But it’ll do. They have our reservations.”
Whitney sat down on a rock and took a long look around. There was nothing but more rock, a few scrubby pines, and pitted dirt. “I seem to remember paying an exorbitant amount of money for that tent that folds up like a handkerchief. The one you insisted we had to have,” she reminded him. “Haven’t you ever heard of the pleasure of sleeping under the stars?”
“When someone’s after my hide—and they’ve come close to peeling it a number of times—I like having a wall to keep my back to.” Still kneeling, he picked up his pack. “I figure Dimitri’s looking for us east of here, but I’m not taking any chances. It cools down in the highlands at night,” he added. “In there we can risk a small fire.”
“A campfire.” Whitney examined her nails. If she didn’t have a manicure soon, they’d look very tacky. “Charming. In a little place like that, the