She watched them move, scatter, and regroup. The sight of something lovely helped her forget the hours of walking. “I’d settle for some of that mystery meat and a banana.”
Though he knew he should have been immune to her quick smile and her sweep of lashes by this time, Doug felt himself softening. “We’ll have a picnic.”
“Wonderful!”
“In another mile.”
Taking her hand in his, he continued through the forest. It smelled soft, he thought. Like a woman. And like a woman, it had shadows and cool corners. It paid to stay on your feet and keep your eyes open. No one traveled here. From the looks of the undergrowth, no one had traveled here in some time. He had the compass to guide him and that was all.
“I don’t understand why you have this obsession about covering miles.”
“Because every one takes me that much closer to the pot of gold, sugar. We’re both going to have penthouses when we get home.”
“Douglas.” Shaking her head, she reached down and scooped up a flower. It was pale, watery pink, delicate as a young girl. Its stem was thick and tough. Whitney smiled and tucked it into her hair. “Things shouldn’t be that important.”
“Not nearly so much when you’ve got them all.”
Shrugging, she plucked another flower to twirl under her nose. “You worry too much about money.”
“What?” He stopped and gaped at her. “I worry? I worry? Just who keeps marking down every solitary penny in her little book? Just who sleeps with her wallet under her pillow?”
“That’s business,” Whitney said easily. She touched the flower in her hair. Pretty petals and a tough stem. “Business is entirely different.”
“Bullshit. I’ve never seen anyone so bent on counting their change, tallying every cent. If I were bleeding, you’d charge me a goddamn dime for a Band-Aid.”
“No more than a nickel,” she corrected. “And there’s absolutely no need to shout.”
“I have to shout to be heard over all that racket.”
They both stopped, brows drawing together. The sound they’d just begun to notice was like an engine. No, Doug decided even as he tensed to run, it was too steady and deep for an engine. Thunder? No. He took her hand again.
“Come on. Let’s go see what the hell that is.”
It grew louder as they walked east. Louder, it lost all resemblance to the sound of a motor. “Water against rock,” Whitney murmured. When they stepped into the clearing, she saw she’d nearly been right. Water against water.
The falls plunged down twenty feet into a clear, gurgling lagoon. The white agitated water was struck by the sun on its journey down, then turned to a deep crystal blue. The falls made a sound of rushing, of power and speed, and yet it was a picture of serenity. Yes, the forest was like a woman, Doug thought again. Intensely beautiful, powerful, and full of surprises. Without realizing it, Whitney rested her head against Doug’s shoulder.
“It’s lovely,” she murmured. “Absolutely lovely. Just as though it were waiting for us.”
He gave in and slipped an arm around her. “Nice spot for a picnic. Aren’t you glad we waited?”
She had to match his grin. “A picnic,” she agreed with her eyes dancing. “And a bath.”
“Bath?”
“A wonderful, cool, wet bath.” Catching him by surprise, she gave him a quick, smacking kiss, then dashed to the side of the lagoon. “I’m not passing this up, Douglas.” She dropped her pack and began to dig inside. “Just the thought of getting my body into water and washing off the dirt of the past couple of days makes me crazy.” She brought out a cake of French milled soap and a small bottle of shampoo.
Doug took the soap and held it under his nose. It smelled like her—feminine, fresh. Expensive. “Gonna share?”
“All right. And in this case, because I’m feeling generous, no charge.”
His grin tilted as he tossed the soap back to her. “Can’t take a bath with your clothes on.”
She met the challenge in his eyes and undid her top button. “I’ve no intention of keeping them on.” Slowly, she undid the range of buttons, waiting while his gaze followed the trail. A light breeze ruffled the edges and tickled the line of bare skin. “All you have to do,” she said softly, “is turn around.” When he lifted his gaze to hers and smiled, she gestured with the cake in her hand. “Or no soap.”
“Talk about spoilsports,” he mumbled, but turned his