In Too Deep (8 page)

It took him less than five minutes to throw Cara's few belongings into her overnight case and backpack. When he went outside, she was gone. So was the map.

“Dammit all to hell!” he bellowed. Then he began to chuckle. He decided he could allow himself to indulge in the brief moment of levity. He knew exactly where Cara was heading, and unless she'd taken along a machete to deal with the undergrowth it would be slow going.

She was quite a woman, he admitted. Anyone who dared to take her on in a fair fight would be in for the surprise of a lifetime. That wicked, proud defiance of hers was a worthy opponent. It was also going to get her in a hell of a fix one of these days, unless someone was around to keep an eye on her. Immediately and infuriatingly recalling her reprimand about his language, he conscientiously deleted the expletive.

It was going to get her into a fix one of these days.

He shook his head in disgust. It didn't sound the same. He'd explain that—and a few other things—to her when he caught up with her.

He didn't have to go far. She'd left a trail a blind man could have tracked. He heard her before he saw her. She was cussing a blue streak as she struggled to free herself from a vine in which she'd somehow gotten entangled.

“Anything I can do?” he offered, smiling broadly.

“Yes, dammit. You can unhook me.”

“Tut, tut. Such language.”

“Oh, go to—” She caught herself in the nick of time and bit her lip.

“That's better,” he said approvingly.

She glowered at him. “Just cut me loose.”

“Well, now, I'm not so sure I should do that.”

“Rod!” Her furious shout was every bit as loud and commanding as Scottie's. He laughed. Indignation brought spots of color to her cheeks. “Don't you dare laugh at me.”

“What are you going to do to stop me?”

“I'll fire you, that's what I'll do. I'll tell my father you were insubordinate. God knows, that's true enough.”

He shook his head and watched her wriggle furiously, which only worsened her entanglement. “It won't work. Besides, you can't do that until you get back to New York. I'd go for a more immediate solution, if I were you.”

“Such as?”

“You could kiss me.” He watched her carefully as a deeper shade of pink crept up to stain her cheeks. Unconsciously, she ran her tongue over her lips. He swallowed hard.

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully, “I'd say a kiss most definitely would stop me from laughing.”

She grew very, very still, waiting. His blood roared through him. His deliberate provocation had apparently hit the wrong target. He was suddenly the one who couldn't breathe, who was anticipating that kiss with heart-stopping excitement.

“I wouldn't kiss you if you were the last man on earth,” she said with an air of desperation as he moved closer.

“Oh, really,” he said softly, freeing a strand of her hair that was caught on a branch. His fingers lingered on her cheek. Sweet, sweet breath whispered past his ear in ragged bursts. He reached around her to cut away the vine that had gotten hooked on her jacket. The firm swell of her breasts brushed across his chest with tantalizing familiarity. His hand came to rest on her hip. He watched the pulse at her throat throb, saw her swallow hard.

“You're free now,” he said in a husky, choked voice.

Free, Cara thought frantically. Despite what she'd said, what she'd felt duty-bound to say, she didn't want to be free. She wanted his mouth on hers. She wanted his fingers to graze her aching breasts. She wanted things from this man she'd only dreamed about. Passion—lust, she corrected—raged inside her, heating her blood, sending her heartbeat into a frenzied rhythm.

She raised her face, meeting hazel eyes that seemed to have captured all the brilliant green of the jungle around them. She lifted her hand, tentatively running her knuckles along the curve of his jaw. She moistened her dry, suddenly sensitive lips with the tip of her tongue. Rod's groan made her aware of the sensuality of the gesture. Flames seemed to dance in his eyes as he dragged her into a crushing embrace.

He took her mouth with a savage claim of possession. There was no gentleness in the kiss, only demand and urgency and hunger. His heat seared her, branding her his. A riot of intense, shattering sensations soared inside her. This was it, the wild passion she'd craved, the unthinking roar of excitement through her blood. Now that she knew it existed, she could never settle for less.

But it was wrong. Rod was wrong. He was not the man she'd dreamed of, not the one who'd cherish her and keep her safe. Just look at the mess they were in now because of his life-style. He'd be exactly like Scottie, always roaming, always saying goodbye, and she wouldn't be able to bear it. Even now, with her head spinning from the scent of him, the feel of him, she felt the pain of goodbye.

“No!” It was a quiet, desperate plea as she struggled to free herself from the embrace and the emotions.

“Yes.” He looked into her eyes, his fingers gentle as they touched her swollen, sensitive lips. “Oh, yes.”

Unable to resist, she melted into his kiss, told herself she deserved to experience the exquisite touch just this once. Her arms crept around his shoulders. Her fingers tangled in silken hair as she opened her mouth to the sweet invasion of his tongue. The kiss left her breathless and, God help her, wanting more.

This time, though, it was Rod who ended the embrace, literally lifting her and setting her down a few inches away. Still the heat and hunger leaped between them. He kept his hands at her waist, and his eyes never wavered from hers.

“I want you,” he said with unexpected candor. Three words with the power to set off fireworks. A declaration that could change her life forever. His eyes filled with regret.

“But not here and not now.”

Cara drew in a ragged breath and fought for composure. Years of practice playing the cool, unflappable businesswoman helped her now. “Not ever,” she said without even a hint of a tremor in her voice.

“Not even you are stubborn enough to keep us apart,” he said with a touch of arrogance that set her pulse to racing. “Our time will come.”

“It can't. Be sensible.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “Oh, my dear, I am being incredibly sensible. It's the only thing keeping me from taking you into that tent and making love to you until we're both too tired to even think, though that's exactly what I want to do.”

The bold, heartfelt words set her aflame, but they didn't consume the doubts. “But we're all wrong for each other.”

“Probably.”

His easy acknowledgement of that brought a lump to her throat. A denial, even a halfhearted one, would have been nice. It would have given her hope.

False hope, she reminded herself sternly. “Nothing will ever happen between us,” she said with every ounce of conviction she could manage. Her heart actually ached as she said it.

Looking him directly in the eye, she added, “I won't be one of your quick and easy conquests.”

The remark struck home. His expression turned hard with a swiftness that startled her. Even so, she almost welcomed this new burst of anger. It was safer by far than the fierce longing that had darkened his eyes only moments ago.

“Don't start judging me.”

“If we'd stuck to business, your morals wouldn't be an issue.”

“I'm not the only one to blame for the kiss, princess. You enjoyed it every bit as much as I did. That's why I felt I had to warn you before this went any further. I made a decision about my way of life a long time ago. No encumbrances. No responsibilities. You won't change that.”

The words were like blows, bringing her back to reality with a crash, but all she said was, “Sounds lonely.”

He met her gaze levelly. “If I want company, I can find it easily enough.”

He was baiting her with the cruel remark. She knew it, but she rose to it anyway. “And that's the kind of
company
you want? No strings attached. No commitments. Do you even remember their names? Would you remember mine?”

“How could I forget? It's on my paycheck.”

Cara drew back her hand to hit him, but he caught her arm in midswing. “Don't even think about it, princess.”

“I'm thinking much worse.”

“Then it's a good thing I'm stronger than you are, isn't it?”

“Let me go, damn you.”

To her surprise, he released his painful grip on her arm. But before she could run or scream—or get in one good punch—he'd grabbed her around the middle like a sack of meal and tossed her over his shoulder. Indignation and humiliation swept through her. She pounded her fists uselessly against his back.

“Put me down, you miserable, macho ogre!”

“Not until you're safely on that plane.”

She drew back her foot and tried to angle a well-placed kick, but it missed its mark and drew only a mild grunt.

“Try that again, short stuff, and you'll have a hell of a time sitting down on that plane ride.”

Cara froze. “You wouldn't dare.”

“Don't tempt me.”

There was an undertone in his voice that warned her he wasn't kidding. She sagged against him, letting herself become deadweight. If he was going to behave like an arrogant jerk, she'd make him pay for the right. It was a hot, tiring walk to the airstrip. She was going to make sure he knew just how long that walk was.

The plan, of course, went wildly awry. Apparently, Rod never tired. He was whistling cheerfully the whole way. She wanted to strangle him. And with every step he took she grew increasingly aware of him—his heat, his scent, his strength. She was torn between indignation and the desire to slide down his body until she could feel the brand of every inch of it.

They reached the clearing in far less time than it had taken her to make the same trip coming in. Still, it was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon. She'd told Carlos she would meet him at noon. If Rod was right about the pilot, he wouldn't be waiting. For that matter, according to him, Carlos would never have shown up in the first place.

As they stepped out into the open, where Cara had a clear view of the airstrip, it brought her enormous satisfaction to see that the plane was sitting there, exactly as she'd said it would be. Not that she had any intention of leaving on it, of course.

Before she could even indulge in a few gloating remarks, Rod said, “Well, princess, it looks as though you were right about your pal Carlos.”

It took the wind right out of her sails. She couldn't very well lord her superior understanding of human nature over a man who'd already conceded it.

“Do you suppose you could put me down now?” she inquired with great dignity.

“Embarrassed?”

“Let's just say I prefer more conventional modes of transportation.”

“In that case, you should be ecstatic to be getting on that plane.”

There was no point in explaining to him yet again that she had no intention of being on that plane when it took off. Especially since she heard the engines revving up. Carlos, it appeared, had grown tired of waiting.

Rod heard the same cough and sputter she heard. He took off at a run. Unfortunately—from his point of view—they were behind the plane. Carlos apparently never even saw Rod's frantic race down the airstrip with Cara bouncing over his shoulder. When the plane was in the air and out of sight, the only sounds besides the shriek of birds were Rod's muttered oaths. His range was even more colorful than she'd realized. She tried very hard to suppress a smile.

“I don't suppose you gave him any instructions about what to do if you weren't here today,” he said, plunking her unceremoniously on her feet. She wobbled unsteadily and had to grab his arm for support. The already tensed muscle quivered at her touch.

“Afraid not,” she said without the slightest display of regret. “I guess you're stuck with me.”

“You seem to find this amusing.”

“I wouldn't go that far.”

“Good, because with Diablo dead there's not a damn thing funny about it. That plane was our only way out of here.”

Something in the quiet, ominous tone of his voice frightened her even more effectively than finding the dead donkey had. Her heart lurched. “You mean we really are stuck here?”

“Bingo, princess.”

“Not forever,” she said, but her bluster was beginning to fail her. Her voice shook. Rod might bear a resemblance to Tarzan, but she was no Jane. This jungle was not her natural habitat and she had no intention of spending the rest of her days in it.

Rod shrugged, showing no mercy. “Who knows? At the moment, I don't have another suitable method of transportation in mind. Do you?”

Something clicked in her brain. Her expression brightened. “Canoe. We could go by canoe.”

“Then you'd better get busy carving one out of a tree trunk. I don't have one.”

“The Lacandones do. You said so.”

“That's nice for them. It doesn't help us.”

“You can buy one.”

“For a lady who was determined to stay, suddenly you seem awfully anxious to leave.”

Something in his voice nagged at her. She looked into his eyes and caught the glint of amusement before he could hide it. Her own gaze narrowed. “We're not in as much trouble as you want me to believe, are we?”

“Oh, we are definitely in danger. Diablo is proof enough of that.”

“But we're not stranded?”

He appeared ever-so-slightly guilty. “Not exactly.”

“What exactly?”

“I've chartered a plane to come back for me.”

She refused to admit to the tiniest smidgen of relief. “What makes you think
your
pilot will come?” she taunted airily.

“He'd better come, or I'll see to it that he's fired. He works for WHS.”

She took the announcement in stride. “Then we don't have a problem, do we?”