Authors: Monica McCabe
“I told you already. It’s a need-to-know basis.”
“Then put me on that list.” She held her ground, not giving an inch. “Because I expect an answer.”
“What is it with you?” He stood with feet braced apart, hands on his hips. “Why are you so determined to get involved?”
“Why is it every time I ask a question you clam up or change the subject? Hiding in that shell won’t get you any relief, you know.”
For a split second, he looked thunderstruck, ready to argue. Then a devious look crossed his face and he leaned forward, close enough that she nearly took a step backward. “Why don’t you admit you’re attracted to me?”
He was being intentionally impossible. “Quit trying to distract me.”
He refused to listen. Instead, his tawny eyes glittered with purpose. “You want to kiss me.”
“You think much too highly of yourself.”
“And you talk too much.” He closed the gap between them by pulling her up next to his muscled body, fully, without an inch of space between them.
The shock of contact rippled through her, and she was afraid to move, afraid of her own reaction. The battle was already lost. He was right yet again. She did want to kiss him.
He wasn’t moving. What was he waiting for? Did he change his mind? She reached up and lightly ran a fingertip across his lower lip.
That was all it took to spur him on, and with a low growl, he lifted her to her toes, fitting her intimately against him. She gasped at the fierceness of his advance. He took advantage of her open lips, claiming her in a kiss so hungry it left her dizzy. It was demanding, full of irresistible friction, and she responded with instant and equal passion.
His lips never left hers as he backed her up to a table and set her down. When she wrapped her legs around his hips, he slid his hands up her ribcage, coming to rest just beneath her breasts. His thumbs danced over the fabric of her shirt, across her nipples. A strong rush of desire had her arching against him, her pulse going haywire and her head falling back, inviting him to nibble his way up her throat.
He did, following the line of her chin to capture her lips again. Only this time it was a slow quest, the tip of his tongue gliding lightly across her lips, tasting, teasing, nibbling. When she moaned with the pleasure, he plunged inside and ignited a fire of longing deep within her.
Roz chose that moment to shove an entire shelf of cleaning solvents, aerosol cans, and spray bottles crashing to the floor.
Miranda jumped, biting Matt’s tongue in the process and causing him to yell in pain. Roz screeched in fear at the noise and threw a bottle of window cleaner against his knee.
“Ow! You monsters!” Matt hobbled away from Miranda and reached down to rub his knee. “Are you two trying to kill me?”
Passion fizzled and Miranda started laughing, hard enough to fall off the table.
“I’m glad you find this so funny.”
At Roz’s distressed chatter, Miranda did her best to curb her laughter and reached for the chimp. She pulled Roz her into her arms, soothing her with soft crooning sounds and light chuckles.
She checked her over for injury and found none, so she pointed Roz’s attention to Matt and signed that his knee was hurt, his tongue, too.
“Are you kidding me?” Matt stared, incredulous. “She knows sign language?”
In answer to his question, Miranda set Roz on the floor and the monkey ambled over and hugged his knee as though saying she was sorry.
Matt stared in open-jawed silence for a span of seconds before reaching down and lifting her to his waist. Roz gave him her best grin, and he laughed, patting her back in a reassuring manner.
“I suppose you learned this little tidbit your first day here as well,” he said.
“What can I say?” Miranda began picking up the fallen supplies and stacking them back on the shelf. Her hands were shaking, the impact of his kiss leaving her open to possibilities she was in no way ready to contemplate. It was time to flee, to escape before he realized exactly how vulnerable she was to him. She put the last can in place and stood to face him. “I’ve got to get back to painting, people are waiting. I’ve one question, though.”
“And that is?”
“Have you considered that tomorrow’s festival will be perfect cover for smuggling diamonds?”
“No matter what, you aren’t going to quit, are you?”
“You might as well get used to it,” she said and grabbed the art boards she’d come for.
He sighed. “Yes, I’ve considered it, and I’ll be watching. But with so many potential witnesses and high-profile dignitaries attending, it’s doubtful anything will happen. You, on the other hand, need to behave yourself and stay out of trouble.”
She didn’t blame him for trying. Still, she stuck her tongue out at him, and when he growled, she sprinted for the door. In the empty hallway, she turned back to see Roz hugging his neck and patting his head the way he’d done hers moments before. Then she pressed her big monkey lips against his cheek and Matt grimaced.
Miranda couldn’t hold back her laughter as the scene etched itself into her memory. If she remembered nothing else from her trip to Africa, this was it. Well, this, and a man whose kiss could melt stone.
“See you tomorrow, 007.” With that she was out the door and hurrying back to the conference room.
“Mazey! Blessed miserable goat of a camel! Whoa, I say!” A robed Beja Bedouin tried to control the animal without success.
Miranda surrendered her attempt to listen to the camel’s heartbeat and jumped aside as Mazey’s owner struggled with her harness. Agitated from being under countless yards of tent canvas, the Arabian camel bellowed with a sound perilously close to panic. And no matter how the Bedouin cajoled, Mazey refused to listen.
The irritated camel began backing up, her path taking her deeper into the tent. No amount of begging, sweet-talking, or yanking on her reins changed her mind.
They had a mutiny on their hands.
“Ah, Jason—” Miranda began.
“I’m on it!” He scrambled into action, yanking obstacles from the animal’s path. A couple of chairs, an aluminum display easel, a potted palm.
Mazey abruptly changed course and down went the easel. A square card table covered with literature went over next. Parents yelled in alarm and pulled their laughing children outside the tent to safety.
During the pandemonium, Miranda tried to gauge Mazey’s next target and sprinted for the lovely exhibition table piled high with medicines, equipment, and promotional freebies.
“No, Mazey!” wailed her owner. “
Moush kedah!
Not that way!”
The camel blithely ignored the command. Preventing collateral damage appeared hopeless, and Miranda swiped an expensive piece of equipment clear just as Mazey backed up to the table’s edge.
With queenly aplomb, Mazey sat.
An ominous groan of plastic and stressed metal sounded through the tent and the table collapsed. Mazey went down with it, unconcerned with the noise and flying debris. With the deed done, the camel sat smugly amidst the ruin, wholly satisfied at the level of destruction around her.
“Ah, no!” The little Bedouin slapped his forehead with his palm, keening over the demolition. “Forgive Mazey, Lady Doctor.”
“Please don’t worry,” Miranda consoled. “She’s just agitated by the crowd.”
Unconvinced, the distraught man bobbed with anxiety. “Most humble of pardons.”
She offered her best reassuring smile. “Honestly, the table can be replaced.”
If any were available, that was, and she highly doubted it. There was a bright side, however. The tent remained standing. If Mazey had traveled another foot to the right, she could’ve taken out the center support post.
Still, the poor Bedouin looked mortified, his dark complexion suffused with an embarrassed flush. When he began tugging on the camel’s ropes, Miranda placed a restraining hand on his arm.
“Please,” she said, “let me try again. She’s sitting quietly now.”
Clearly apprehensive, he hung his head with a resigned sigh and handed over the reins.
Using her foot to shove aside several crushed boxes and loose paper, Miranda stepped closer. “Hello there, girl.” She stroked the camel’s head with a light soothing touch. Long furry eyelashes brushed her palm. Miranda enjoyed the sensation before traveling around to rub Mazey’s lower jaw. “Having a rough day, sweetie?”
Mazey’s soulful brown eyes glowed with a distinct lack of forgiveness, and she opened her mouth wide to let loose a baleful groan.
It was the opportunity Miranda needed. Risking her fingers, she lifted the camel’s upper lip for a quick peek at her gums. Healthy, soft black tissue surrounded a mouthful of grain-worn molars and canines, all perfectly normal.
“Need any help?” Matt’s worried voice sounded behind her.
“Another table would be nice,” Miranda said without turning from her patient. “This one likely won’t recover.”
“Is that a professional prognosis or a general observation?”
“Real funny.” She patted Mazey’s head and grabbed a carrot treat from her lab coat pocket, allowing the camel to lip it from her palm.
Then she turned around. And nearly stopped breathing.
Gone were the usual coveralls. Matt wore a ribbed collar polo shirt that strained across his shoulders, snug-fitting khaki slacks, outfitter boots, and his normal unruly mane of hair was brushed neatly into place. Her heart tripped wildly and very nearly fell in love.
How could she expect to withstand his attraction when he came armed with weapons like that?
Tired of being ignored, Mazey let loose another howl and lumbered up from the wreckage with an indignant snort, snapping Miranda out of Matt’s spell.
“If you really want to help,” she said, “hold Mazey while I find my stethoscope.”
She held out the reins, but Matt didn’t move. In fact, his expression turned downright uneasy.
“How about I find your scope instead?” he offered.
Mazey snorted and Miranda blinked in surprise. “You’re afraid of camels?”
He frowned, but still didn’t move to take the reins. “You see this scar?” He held out his forearm for her inspection. “A camel bit off a chunk of skin on my thirteenth birthday.”
She looked at the dime-sized scar and huffed. “I’ve got bigger.”
“You what?” His frown deepened.
“Look at this.” She lifted the hem of her shorts to reveal a two-inch slanted line running from the top of her leg toward her inner thigh. “That’s from a close encounter with a half-sedated lynx.”
She glanced up and caught him staring at her thigh with an expression that clearly wasn’t sympathy. She dropped her pant leg and grabbed his hand, slapping Mazey’s reins into his palm. “Hold her.”
He accepted his charge with uncomfortable resignation, and she turned her attention to finding her scope.
Jason was one step ahead of her. “Looking for this?” He’d pulled the scope out of a pile of scattered vaccines and handed it over.
With Matt standing as far away as Mazey’s leather reins would allow, and the Bedouin hovering underfoot crooning in Arabic, Miranda managed to finish the examination and proclaim the patient healthy.
Spying a jumble of alfalfa boosters on the ground, she grabbed a crushed box and pulled a treat out, using it to coax the camel to the edge of the tent.
It worked like a charm. Once underneath clear, powder-blue skies, Mazey stood calmly in the busy walkway, contentedly chewing her prize and ignoring the people steering around her.
“Here, take these.” Miranda handed the box of treats to Mazey’s owner. “One or two a week will keep her happy.”
“Eternal gratefulness, Lady Doctor.” The Bedouin bowed his appreciation.
What was the appropriate response? She had no idea, so she bowed back.
Which only set him in motion again, so she responded the same. When he bowed for the third time, Matt made a noise of impatience and gripped her shirt at the small of her back, holding her upright. “The good doctor accepts your gracious thanks and wishes you Godspeed.”
Despite aggravation with his method, Miranda accepted Matt’s silent command. She merely nodded this time. “Live long and prosper.” She quoted Spock’s famous saying.
The Bedouin touched his forehead with a deep nod and a swirl of fingers. “May Allah send you many abundant blessings.” He backed away with a firm hold on Mazey’s reins, and they ambled down the pathway.
“Now that was interesting.” Miranda held her hand above her eyes to shield the sun and watched the camel stroll away.
“More like crazy,” Matt said. “I can’t believe the kind of risks you take in your job.”
“Really?” Miranda lowered her voice, “All in all, I’d say yours is the riskier profession.”
He shot a quick glance around. “I’d rather stare down a bullet than something that looks at me like a meal.”
“Don’t worry, she’d probably have spit you back out.” He glared and she grinned. “It’s all what you get used to, isn’t it?”
She headed back inside the tent to assess the damage. It was a mess to be sure, but nothing that couldn’t be cleaned up in short order.
“Okay, here’s the plan.” She lifted up her display easel and set it back in place. “I’ll begin setting things back in order here. Jason, please fetch a supply of fresh vaccines, vitamins, and care pamphlets from the clinic. Matt, I’m fairly certain tables are scarce, but I trust you can rustle one up.”
When both men stood staring at her, Matt in surprise and Jason with a grin, she shooed them away with her hands. “Hop to it, boys. There’s plenty of work to do.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Jason saluted.
They turned around as one and headed off to do her bidding.
“Is she always this bossy?” She heard Matt ask as they stepped into the warm sunshine.
“One gets used to it, eventually,” Jason replied. “I remember the first time I met her at the zoo. There was this orangutan with a major need of a root canal.…”
Miranda scowled as they zigzagged toward the main building, their conversation much too animated for her liking.
Letta joined her under the tent, and her eyes were huge as she took in the damage. “I want it on record that I was nowhere near here! What happened? A herd of crazed hyena rampage through?”