Fire and Desire (Arabesque) (13 page)

“H
old up, Corinthians. We’ll stop here for the night.”

Feeling a sense of relief, Corinthians stopped walking. It seemed they had been moving through the jungle for hours. Other than the two times they’d stopped when she had requested potty breaks, they had kept moving at a pretty steady pace. Now more so than ever, she was aware of her sore, aching feet, as well as the aches and pains of her tired body.

The night air was warm enough to make her glad that because her jeans and shirt were still wet, she’d been forced to keep on Trevor’s T-shirt. The cotton material was lighter and cooler, and it provided more freedom of movement than her jeans and shirt would have. However, she felt uncomfortably exposed romping through the jungle wearing an oversize T-shirt with just the bare necessities underneath. But her major complaint was occasionally fighting off the few pestering mosquitoes from attacking her arms, legs and thighs.

It was full dark and had been for quite some time. Their only light was from the pale glow of the moon. She wondered how Trevor had been able to lead them through the cluster of large trees, overgrown brushes and overhanging vines. At times, the foliage was so thick and dark, they had barely had enough light to see their way.

Corinthians turned around and almost stumbled. Not surprisingly, Trevor’s strong arms reached out and tightened around her as they had done a couple of other times that night.

“Come on,” he said, drawing her closer to his side. “Let’s get you settled in before you take a nasty fall.”

Too exhausted to argue, she let him guide her to an area surrounded by huge sheltering trees. She stood and watched while he knelt and spread a blanket on the ground over a bed of leaves. He held another blanket under his arm.

“Where did you get those blankets?”

He turned to her and smiled. “I borrowed them.”

Corinthians then remembered him mentioning that he had come across the terrorist’s backpack not far from where the man had found them. Trevor had apparently helped himself to whatever supplies he felt they would need.

“The only thing that’s left is for me to give you a rubdown.”

When he saw that she was about to protest, he said, “Without one, you’ll be too sore to move in the morning. And we have to cover as much ground as we can tomorrow before it gets too hot out here.”

He stood. “Just stand right there for a second. I’ll be right back.” He then disappeared into the darkness.

Trevor returned in no time. Corinthians hadn’t been given a chance to think twice about the mistake she would be making by letting him put his hands on her.

He knelt down before her with a variety of plants she’d noticed him gathering earlier that day. She watched as he snapped the stem off each plant and let the milky substance from them flow into the palm of his hand.

He stood. “Hold out your arms. This contains a healing balm and will ease the soreness in your muscles, as well as soothe your skin that’s been irritated by the shrubs and vines that came into contact with it. It will also work as a repellent to help fight off the mosquitoes.”

Corinthians did as he instructed. After pushing the short sleeves of the T-shirt up out of his way, he began rubbing the milky substance over her arms.

Her breath caught in her throat. Despite her tiredness, her body automatically responded to him. His touch was warm, gentle and soothing. As if in a trance, she watched his hands move slowly and methodically down her arms. With every stroke, her pulse intensified and her breathing became labored.

She closed her eyes when he knelt before her and began working on her legs. His fingers were tender as he massaged the soothing substance on her knees and downward to her ankles. She became so absorbed in the tranquilized pleasure he was making her feel that when she noticed him lifting the hem of the T-shirt to rub some of the substance onto her thighs and stomach, she couldn’t move. She couldn’t even think. All she could do was stand there while his fingers worked their magic over her body. She could feel the slow warmth spreading through her with unabashed intensity. The muscles of her thighs and belly flexed with his touch.

“I’m finished, Corinthians. Go ahead and get some sleep,” Trevor said in a deep, husky voice.

Corinthians slowly opened her eyes and noticed he was standing directly in front of her. His dark gaze held hers. The look in his eyes was starkly sexual. It stirred her body, making her feel hot, and making firebolts of desire take off within her.

He didn’t say a word. Neither did she. All she could do was stand there and gaze up into those incredible dark eyes of his while silently acknowledging the sexual electricity that sparkled between them. He took a step forward. And when she saw his lips part and felt her own doing likewise, she was tempted to lean up and join his mouth to hers. But then she remembered what happened the last time they’d kissed, and how the terrorist had caught them off guard. Reluctantly, she took a step back, forcing the pulsing intensity in her body to subside.

“What about you?” she asked, taking a deep breath and lowering her body onto the bed he’d made for her. “Aren’t you going to sleep, too?” She began removing her shoes and socks to busy her trembling fingers. They were aching to reach out and touch him.

“Later. There are a few things I have to do first.”

Corinthians nodded and tried to ignore the deep huskiness in his voice, but her body wouldn’t let her. A quiver surged through her veins. “Good night, Trevor.”

“Good night.”

Trevor watched as she curled her body up in the blanket and fought to control his swirling emotions. He felt his sanity under attack. He’d been about to do the very thing he’d said he would not do again, and that was to lose control. And he was very uncomfortable with that thought.

When he turned and walked away, he struggled with the realization that their closeness out here alone in the jungle was proving to be incredibly tempting, too incredibly tempting. And because of it, he was finding himself ill-equipped to deal with Corinthians Avery. The woman was proving to be too much for him to handle, and she was getting deeper and deeper under his skin.

He would have to rethink his strategy.

Corinthians released a deep sigh, feeling an odd sense of wariness when Trevor finally walked away. Her gaze followed him as he moved across the clumps of shaggy grass, his form barely visible in the darkness.

It seemed that everything was beginning to happen to her all at once, and she didn’t know how she was going to deal with it. First, there was this feeling of fear that had taken its hold on her. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined anything like this happening to her. Here she was in the deep jungles of South America on the run from terrorists. Something like this is what you saw in movies with Harrison Ford or Sterling Hamilton in the starring role. If nothing else, coming face-to-face with that man at gunpoint had made her realize just how serious her situation was. It also made her aware of just what a competent man Trevor was.

Trevor.

He was the cause of her other fear…the physical emotions he was making her feel. Never in her life had she acted so wanton, so loosely and so out of control with a man. Even when she thought herself in love with Dex, she’d never felt this way. Her planned seduction of him had been conceived as a way to make Dex finally notice her. The idea had not been the result of any out-of-control emotions that had overpowered her.

Corinthians looked up at the stars, feeling oddly displaced. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew that Trevor Grant was getting next to her. He was getting next to her in a way that no man had ever gotten next to her before.

The sound of him returning shattered Corinthians’s reverie, and she closed her eyes to pretend sleep. She watched through lowered lashes as he knelt to make his bed a few feet from hers. She should have felt relief, but instead she felt disappointment that he was putting any distance between them. That was her very last thought before sleep finally overtook her.

Ashton Sinclair looked up from the report he was reading when he heard the commotion outside his office door. Tossing the papers aside, he walked over to the door and snatched it open. He frowned when he saw Major Snow and Sergeant Porter trying to subdue a young South American boy.

“Major Snow, Sergeant Porter, what’s going on out here?”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but this kid wanted to see you. When I told him you were busy, he tried forcing his way into your office,” Major Snow said in way of an explanation.

Ashton frowned as he looked at the boy. “Are you sure he wants to see me?”

“Yes, sir. He came here yesterday asking for you. He claims he has a message that he can only give to you.”

Ashton walked over to them. “Let him go.” And with that order the two men released their hold on the boy. He saw the scared look on the kid’s face. Evidently Snow and Porter had frightened him out of his wits.

“I’m Colonel Sinclair, and I understand you want to see me.”

At first, he thought the boy was not going to say anything. Then he spoke. “The American told me to give this to you.” He reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and handed it to Ashton.

Ashton took the ring from the boy, recognizing it immediately. He held it up to the light and read the initials engraved inside. He frowned. “Where did you get this?”

Giovano took a step back at the sharp tone of Ashton’s voice. When Ashton saw that he had scared the boy, he asked the question again in a less demanding voice.

“The American man gave it to me. He said to give it only to you and to tell you he went into the Rio jungle.”

Ashton’s frown deepened. “Where was he when he gave this to you?”

“At the hotel.”

“The one that was attacked by terrorists?”

“Sim, senhor.”

Ashton turned his attention to Major Snow. “Find Captain Richards. Tell him that I need to take a look at that list containing the names of the people who were registered at the hotel at the time the terrorists attacked.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then he looked over at Sergeant Porter. “This youngster has come a long way to bring this message to me. How about bringing him something cold to drink and something filling to eat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ashton looked back down at the boy. “When you saw this American was he alone?”

“
Sim, senhor,
he was alone, but he has the American woman with him.”

Ashton lifted a dark brow. “What American woman?”

“The one the terrorists want.”

“Go ahead, Stella, and drink this. It will help you to relax.”

Stella Grant shook her head. “I don’t want to relax, Maurice. I want news about Trevor.”

Maurice Grant sighed deeply. “I know, Stel. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”

“But we should have heard something long ago. The wait is killing me.”

Maurice studied his wife’s features. He, too, was worried and concerned with the length of time the government was taking in letting them know something. The only thing they’d confirmed was that Trevor had been registered at the hotel at the time of the terrorist attack. However, the Brazilian government could not verify or deny if he’d been one of the Americans taken as a hostage. After he had broken the news to Stella at her shop, he had driven her home and together the two of them had been waiting patiently by the telephone ever since.

Their daughter, Regina, was out of town on a business trip. Luckily, he’d been able to catch her at the hotel. Like everyone else, she had heard about the terrorist attack in Brazil, but had not connected it to Trevor. After being told about her brother, she had cancelled the rest of her trip and was now on her way home.

“Go ahead, Stella, and drink the tea.”

Stella frowned and looked up at him. “You don’t have to get so bossy, Maurice. If it’s going to make you happy, I’ll drink the stuff.” She took a sip then settled back on the couch, tucking her feet under her.

Maurice shook his head. He wasn’t the least fooled by Stella’s gruffness. He knew her well enough to know, bossy or not, she did just what she wanted to do. He also knew that when it came to her children, she was one protective woman. That was only one of the many things he’d always admired about her. She had been, and still was, a wonderful mother to his son and daughter.

“I wonder what’s taking Gina so long. She should have been here by now,” Stella said, sipping more of her tea.

Maurice rammed his hands in his pockets, and took a deep, silent breath while doing so. “That’s something I need to tell you.”

Stella lifted a brow. “What?” she asked as she leaned forward and placed her half-full cup of tea on the table beside the couch. “What do you need to tell me?”

“Gina called from the airport. Her flight out has been delayed. It will be morning before she gets here.”

Stella looked confused. “Gina called? But I didn’t hear the phone ring.”

“She didn’t want to disturb you, so she called me on my mobile phone. It was on vibrate. I called her back while you were in the kitchen making the tea.”

Stella nodded and tried to take a deep, calming breath. With Trevor missing, the mother in her needed to see her daughter to make sure she was safe.

She met Maurice’s gaze and knew he comprehended what she was feeling and somehow he understood that need within her.

“Gina told me to tell you not to worry. She’s fine and will be here in the morning. We also have to believe that wherever he is, Trevor is fine, too.”

Stella blinked back her tears. “Oh, Maurice, I want to believe that.”

He reached out his hand to her. “We both have to believe that, Stella.”

She squeezed the hand he’d given her, taking some of his physical strength. But a part of her could not forget the danger their son could be in.

Maurice looked down at their joined hands and remembered other times they’d done this—held hands to feed off each other’s strength. There was the time at the funeral of the grandmother he had loved so much, the one who had raised him when his own mother had refused to do so; then there was the time at Stella’s parents’ funerals. They had died within a year of each other. Then more painstakingly, he remembered the time at the funeral of their baby son, the one who’d been born with a large hole in his heart. He’d been their first child, the one they never brought home from the hospital.