Harlequin Heartwarming May 2016 Box Set (7 page)

“Dr. Anna Bekker isn't just any woman, though,” Mac said defensively.

A twinge of jealously she had no right to feel pinched Tessa's chest. More of an insecurity, really. Mac had no respect for her or her lifestyle, but this rugged, elephant-rescuing Dr. Bekker
wasn't just any woman
.

“He's right,” Kesi added, turning to Tessa. “There's nothing ordinary about Anna. Around here, her orphaned elephant rescue camp is becoming legendary. Mac should take you two to visit Busara. I'm sure she and her wonderful husband and adorable children would love to meet one of Mac's relatives.”

Tessa had no rights over Mac—neither did she want any—but she couldn't help but feel a little relieved that Anna was married. Nonetheless, a part of her wished Mac could see her as “not just any woman,” too. Then another part of her wondered if any of those baby elephants had been orphaned because of Brice. If they had been, then she was living off his blood money. Markets were all about supply and demand. That made her part of the pain and injustice Mac devoted his time to fighting. She rearranged the food on her plate, suddenly losing her appetite and unable to meet his eyes.

She needed to find evidence and stop what was happening...or she was as good as an accomplice to murder. Murder of the very lives Mac was so intent on helping to save.

* * *

T
ESSA
SCRUBBED
A
dish in the soapy water, rinsed it and passed it to Kesi to dry and put away. She'd insisted on helping clean up while the guys went outside to do some maintenance on one of the guest tents. Kesi explained that they did whatever they could to conserve water. Although they had a well, they also used a cistern to catch rainwater. The couple also had some solar panels in place to take advantage of the plentiful sunlight. Tessa admired the gorgeous mosaic backsplash behind the sink and the unique strands of wooden beads that hung to the sides of the kitchen window instead of curtains.

“Your kitchen is beautiful and so...” She fumbled for the right word, realizing belatedly that anything she said might be taken the wrong way.

“Unexpected?” Kesi offered.

“Well, yes, but I don't mean it in a bad way. You have incredible taste in design and decorating. It's just that I expected anything out this far to be more basic, only because I'd imagine getting some building items and finishing touches out here would be difficult.” She hoped Kesi understood. She never intended to sound rude or snotty. After all, she'd grown up in a house no bigger than this cottage. Maybe that's why she liked the atmosphere here. “Your home has so much character. There's a welcoming comfort about it.”

Tessa meant it. There was a spirit to the place that, despite all the luxuries that had become hers when she'd married Brice, she'd never felt in her own home. Mac was right. Their place was a little on the sterile side. Like her and Brice's modern, minimalist style, there was no clutter here, yet the wood and stone, with splashes of color from woven pillows and practical accents like the herbs Kesi had hung to dry along one of the kitchen walls, gave the cottage an earthy warmth. She pointed to a stunning painting on the far wall. She'd seen a couple of others in the living room that looked like they'd been done by the same artist. The lighting in the kitchen made it easier to see Kesi's name at the bottom. “You painted that?”

“Yes. I like to dabble in water colors. It's relaxing,” she said.

“You have a gift. It's beautiful. I should have known you had an artist's eye from how nicely you designed the entire place.”

“Thank you,” Kesi said. “Some of the touches were indeed special ordered, and some we brought out here ourselves. Most of the wooden furniture was handmade and carved locally, but a few pieces were from before we lived here. I'm a retired architect. In fact, when Mac's friends, Anna and Jack, decided to upgrade from the tent Anna had raised their first child in on her own at Busara, I helped them out.”

A dish slipped from Tessa's grip but she saved it from breaking.

“You're an architect?” She needed to work harder at keeping the surprise out of her tone. Kesi didn't seem fazed.

“Yes, and Mugi is retired from law. I met him in England, where he went to school. I wanted to see the castles, and he happened to be on the same tour. The rest is history. No pun intended.”

That explained the hint of something different in his accent.

“Why would you decide to retire here?”

Tessa handed her the last dish and dried her hands.

“Why not?” Kesi said, ushering Tessa out to the front porch where they could enjoy some tea. “I take in this scenery and it reminds me of what home is all about. All the rush, demands and pressures of careers and city life fade away out here. We lived that life. Had our fill of it, and yet, left it feeling empty. I never had children—though we did try—a fact that took my parents forever to get over. Our lives had been about our careers, but neither of us felt settled. We never felt like we were making a difference or that we'd achieved our purpose, despite some of the pro bono cases Mugi used to take on. This place seemed like it had been waiting for us. It started as nothing but a couple of tents, but we wanted to build an environmentally conscious experience. A family-friendly camp where, if children came along, they could learn about water conservation, wildlife habitats, endangered species, solar energy...you understand the idea.”

“Ecotourism,” Tessa said, recalling an article she'd read not long ago in the very paper she worked for. The one Brice practically owned. Ironic.

“Exactly. Kenya is our home. Our ancestors walked this land. We figured if our purpose wasn't to raise our own children, then maybe it was to help educate others. To save the land left to us by past generations. Then, out of the blue, Mac landed in our lives and it was as if all the pieces had fallen into place. He's like a son to us.”

The pieces of a puzzle.

Tessa nodded and looked over at the men patching a hole on one of the tents. Kesi had wanted children but couldn't have them, and now she saw Mac as a son. And Tessa never wanted kids for fear of the risks involved—the worry, the potential failure to give them what they needed—and now she had Nick. Kesi followed her gaze.

“Those look like mere tents, but they're quite nice inside. Each is raised on a platform because of the rainy season, so there are carpets and beds with linens and even water. It makes it easier with children. I suppose we're kind of like a Serengeti bed-and-breakfast. Our next guests aren't booked for a few weeks, so Mugi has been wanting to take care of repairs before they arrive.”

No guests for that long? So much for Mac telling her they couldn't use the camp's jeep to get back.
Liar.
She had to admit, she was kind of glad about it. She'd needed to slow down. Catch her breath. Plan. The past few hours had indeed given her a breather. But she was also anxious to find out what was on those computer drives.

“So this place isn't as rustic as it seems at first. It's like the best of everything.” Tessa chuckled. “Does that mean you have electricity?”

“A generator we only use as needed.”

“A television?” Tessa asked, wondering if Mac and Mugi had been telling Nick the truth or if they had been messing with him, too.

“No. No television. It just wasn't a priority for us and we want guests taking in their surroundings. Getting lost in the experience.”

“Ah, then no computer.”

“Of course we have a computer and basic internet, for safety reasons if anything, and so we can keep up with news as well as letting the world know we're here. Mugi, being a lawyer, insisted.”

So Mac knew all along that they could lie low and still check out the flash drives she'd taken. When was he planning to let her in on it? She was starting to wonder if she could trust him at all.

“Is it safe here? I mean, with all the wild animals...and I've heard that poachers aren't really as under control as some think,” Tessa ventured, not wanting to give her real concerns away.

“Wild animals? We have to use common sense. We take precautions similar to most safari groups. Poachers? We haven't had a problem near us, though it's true—unfortunately, they're out there. Busara and some other reserves deal with the orphans left by poachers all the time. All the more reason to provide places where the public can get educated and in touch with nature. The more memories they make here, the more likely they'll be to care, even after they return home. One person can make a difference.”

One person. Was Tessa one person making a difference?

“Life's funny, isn't it?” she said in a near-whisper.

“What do you mean?” Kesi asked.

“Just that you've been so generous and kind. We crashed your day and took it over unexpectedly. If you need us out of the way, just say the word.”

“Nonsense. Stay as long as you like.” She motioned to Mac, who was involving Nick in the repair. “It'll be good for them. See? Male bonding. You were hoping they'd get along. Weren't you?”

“How did you know?”

“I'm good at reading people.”

A moment of silent understanding passed between them.

“Everything happens for a reason. Even airsickness,” Kesi said.

She was right. Everything did happen for a reason.

It was the reasons that always eluded Tessa.

CHAPTER FIVE

M
AC
STOKED
THE
logs in the fire pit until the flames danced like Masai tribesmen dressed in their bright red and orange colors. The pit, encircled with local lava rocks, was set up in a clearing not far from the guest tents. A mix of wooden stumps and folding chairs surrounded it. He'd helped arrange those rocks and seats so that guests would have a nice place to congregate for after-dinner drinks and stories. Mugi always did love telling stories with dramatic flare.

Nick was already sleeping in the tent he was sharing with Mac, and Mugi and Kesi had gone to bed. Tessa stared at the flames with her knees tucked against her chest and her chin resting on them. Her hair glistened in the firelight like the river's surface on a full moon. He looked back into the fire. He had no business noticing those sorts of things. At least not in a way that stirred unwelcome feelings of nostalgia and longing. As a teen there'd been something about her that drew him in, but she'd always kept her guard up good and strong.

It didn't matter. Mac was a loner. He lived for the present and future. Not the past. Tessa wasn't his type, anyway. The only thing they had in common was custody of their nephew. She was another man's wife—a fact that, ever since she'd shown up in his office the night before, he had to keep reminding himself of...and that bothered him to no end. The sense of loss...the fact that she'd never really cared for him and his attraction had never been reciprocated...he could handle all of it when she was in her own country, but he'd made Kenya his and she'd crossed his boundaries. Tessa crossing any boundary and pulling a stunt like this had thrown him off-kilter. The Tessa he knew would never have done that. The woman sharing the campfire with him was a whole lot more appealing, way more interesting...and very taken. The smoke and flames had to be playing hypnotic tricks on him. He rubbed his eyes, remembering that he hadn't really slept the night before.

“What are we going to do about all this?” she asked.

Obviously she was talking about her situation with her husband, but for a split second, he thought maybe she'd heard his thoughts.

Perhaps mind-reading came with raising a kid together.

A log popped with a long hiss and crackle and he pushed it toward the center of the pit. He'd never forget the time she'd taken Maria and Allan's side about his first trip to the Serengeti. She'd told him he should listen to his dad and brother and stay put. It was only a week before he was scheduled to leave to do volunteer work for the experience and flight hours...and because he'd needed a break from his father and brother breathing down his neck about what he was going to do with his life. Real men made a lot of money, they said. Enough to support their families. According to them, working for free made as much sense as a hare curling up with a cheetah at night for warmth.

History had a way of repeating itself, didn't it? Tessa had sided against him before. She'd never agreed with his choices. Why should she care about his opinion now?

He eyed her carefully across the flickering tips of the fire. Burned once, twice shy. For all he knew, Brice had sent her. How convenient would it be if they couldn't see the files on those drives and there was no proof but her word? Or if the drives were fake? Maybe this was all a ploy because her husband didn't want an ornery teenager in his house. Did Nick clash with their uppity lifestyle? Or were her intentions even darker? What if Brice
was
involved in ivory smuggling and Tessa was embroiled in her husband's business right alongside him, like a good, loyal wife...but was having second thoughts? Maybe she was getting scared and trying to save face by making herself seem innocent. Was she playing the victim? She'd never been the type to stand up to anyone or risk losing the people in her life. If Brice had asked her to do something that went against her values, would she have been strong enough to say no?

She used to express strong opinions on animal welfare in their school paper, but after she got married, she'd settled on a fashion column. Maybe she'd given up her integrity and dreams for money. She could be here to use their shared custody of Nick to draw him into their sick game. Or she could be here as a spy, trying to get him to reveal inside information about the wildlife reservations, rescue and conservation groups in the area and the Kenyan Wildlife Service's plans against poacher activities. Or maybe her marriage had simply gone south and she was looking for excuses to come running to him for help and support because she didn't want to be alone. Tessa had always hated being alone.

He took the last swig of his beer and set the bottle in the dirt next to him.

“Let's see. What
are
we going to do about all this?” he said. “I'd say the safest thing would be to give me the drives you have. I'll check them out while you and Nick stay here. If there is indeed incriminating information on them, in what's bound to be a phenomenally dramatic and dangerous operation, I'll turn it in and help catch Brice red-handed...then kill him. In self-defense, of course, because something tells me he's used to getting what he wants and won't give himself up peacefully.”

Tessa had dropped her feet to the ground and sat there gaping at him.

“Are you crazy?”

Mac shrugged and leaned forward.

“Guilty of being stupid once or twice in my life and a bit stubborn, but no, not crazy.”

“Then don't make fun of the situation and don't go painting Brice out to be some superruthless alpha villain just because he's rich and powerful. He was always kind and good to me. I'm not sure why he's involved in all this or to what extent, but I know when I married him he was a smart, stable and talented man.”

Touché.

The air tasted bitter and even the insects, whose rhythmic humming had been loud enough to mask their whispers, hushed. Mac wanted to walk away, but doing so would add power to her words. What Brice was, Mac wasn't. His father would have liked Brice. She knew it, too.

She covered her face and shook her head. “I'm so sorry. I realize how that sounded. It was uncalled for. I've just been so stressed and confused.”

He forced the corners of his mouth into a smile that fought against the weight in his chest.

“No worries, Tessa. I'm quite confident with my God-given gifts. I don't need riches to prove anything or to compensate for anything else.” Now he was really smiling. “As for you marrying rich—kudos to you, baby. But running away from home tells me that you've questioned marrying him. So how about a game of ‘Get Tess to Confess'? Are you really here because you suspect Brice? Or because you're having marital issues and deep down, all these years, you've found me irresistible?”

* * *

O
F
ALL
THE
egotistical—Tessa scowled as Mac got up and came around the fire, then reached into his pocket and tossed a coin on the ground between them before sitting on a log next to her. She was so not playing
that
game. The one he'd made up senior year.

When his brother and her sister, who'd gone off to the same college, had announced that they were getting married, she didn't take it well. She'd known they'd get hitched sooner or later, but Allan was a daredevil like all of the Walker men, and she didn't want to have to worry about Maria. She also knew marriage would mean her sister would visit home even less, and with their parents gone most of the time, Tessa would be alone more. They had asked her and Mac to help plan wedding stuff back home. She was so unenthusiastic about it that Mac had taken to teasing her, as if he needed an excuse. He'd started this habit of tossing a coin and telling her if it landed on heads and she answered a question from him honestly, he'd take care of whatever wedding arrangement she didn't want to deal with. If it was tails, she'd have to go for a swim with him—in the ocean. He knew full well she only swam in pools. The beach was where waves pushed you under and the currents pulled you out. She feared dying in the same manner she feared her parents would. Mac would take his shirt off anyway and egg her on. A shirtless Mac always left her flustered. He probably knew it, too.

It was a lose-lose scenario as far as she was concerned. At one point, when the coin had landed on heads, he'd asked her if she was glum because she had a secret crush on his brother. Gross. Or if she was jealous because no guy had even asked her to date. And every time it landed on tails, he'd rip his shirt off and make her skin heat up in a way she'd have never admitted to. He'd actually called her a wimp a time or two, when she refused to go swimming.

He tossed the coin.

“Let's see. No wedding planning responsibilities to take off your shoulders, so what do we bet on?”

“I'm not playing, Mac. Nor am I lying to you, so there's no point.”

“Come on. Afraid of the truth or that I'll take my shirt off and drag you down to the river?”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“Ouch.”

“You know the rugged, risk-your-life adventurer was never my type.” No doubt he still sported rock hard abs. The mental image made her cheeks burn.

“Right. I'm just the guy everyone runs to when they need help that involves risk. The one who's expendable.”

“I never, ever wanted you putting your life at risk. That was the point.” Man, he ticked her off. She got up but his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist.

“Shrug it off, Tess. I was just trying to get you to let your guard down. Come on. I've always given you a hard time, haven't I? It's how we are.”

She turned around and studied his face. The creases the sun had left around his eyes made him look wiser and those around his lips, more jaded. He rubbed her upper arms, and there was nothing but a calming reassurance in the gesture. Nothing inappropriate. So why was she feeling his touch all the way down to her toes? This was
Mac
, for crying out loud. Maybe she just missed having someone around who knew her sister the way she did.

“Sit. Tell me what happened,” he said, nudging her back down. She sat and took a deep breath, the smell of smoke and grassy plains reminding her that Brice couldn't hear her. She was safe here. She'd succeeded in getting here in the first place, and that had to mean she was stronger than anyone had ever given her credit for. Didn't it? Stronger than she gave her
self
credit for. She scratched the bridge of her nose.

“Everything was okay at first. He's always treated me well, Mac. He has always been there and taken care of everything. He's smart and has never been anything but kind to me. I mean, yes, he liked throwing private cocktail parties and obligatory business dinners, none of which I enjoyed. I played along because it was the least I could do. He provided. If he wanted me to throw a dinner, how could I say no? Especially when some were for the staff at the paper. The one he encouraged me to write the fashion column for.”

Truth be told, she had asked if she could do an environment and animal welfare-related column. Had even told him about the work she'd done in high school for the paper and for shelters and the fact that she was currently involved in fund-raising efforts for them, but he'd said the paper's readership was more fashion-oriented.

“Don't you hire caterers and maids, anyway?”

“No, actually. Cooking is something I've always been good at. I had to do a lot of it growing up. And Brice hates the idea of anyone poking around his possessions to clean. It's his one pet peeve.”

“So you keep the house.”

He made it sound like she was Brice's maid. There was nothing wrong with cleaning your own house. Brice had never wanted children—not even cats—and with only the two of them in that massive house, she needed to tend to something other than him or herself. No amount of coffee dates with other wives or shoe shopping, nor her once-a-week column, could fill her time. Deep down, she wanted to do something meaningful, something she really cared about. But instead, she cleaned.

“I do my own thing, too,” she said defensively. “My work at the paper and organizing fund-raisers for various charities. Brice thinks that's good publicity for his companies, but I do it because I enjoy it. Plus, I've been handling Nick's needs.”

“Are you still rescuing cats? Taking in strays?”

“No. Brice doesn't want pets destroying the house or putting off guests with allergies. My role as Mrs. Henning is to wine and dine potential clients of his. When no one's around, I sit at this table we have overlooking the ocean and—never mind.”

She couldn't believe she was about to embarrass herself and tell him that she'd stand at that massive window and pray for her parents to be okay out there at sea and to return home safely. Same wish she'd always had growing up. Mac was so like her parents. Their rush...their raison d'être...was the sea. Mac's was the wild expanse of earth and sky out here. And hers...she'd never been able to pin down her purpose, passion or place in life. Even her love of journalism had stalled at her fashion column. Katia had always rejected any other pitches she'd made. And her contract with the paper prevented her from submitting articles anywhere else. Her parents and Mac had callings that made a difference. All because of some contractual covenant not to compete, hers never would. Unless she went up against Brice, which she'd never dared to do before. She ran her finger against her dry lips. Mac stretched his long legs in front of him and crossed his ankles.

“I saw your column once. Online,” Mac said.

Tessa closed her eyes and felt heat creep up the back of her neck. She held her breath and waited for the criticism she knew would follow.

“What of it?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “It's just that you used to write opinionated stuff in the school paper. You created quite a storm with the one report on how the cafeteria's vegetarian menu wasn't so vegetarian, after all. Shocked the heck out of me. Didn't think you had guts. I was pretty sure it would get you suspended.”