Midnight Rainbow (18 page)

           
 
"I am nervous. Are we going on to Limon
tonight?"

           
 
"Depends on what we find when we get into
town." She glared down at him in sudden irritation. He was a master at
avoiding straight answers. It was so dark that she couldn't make out his
features; he was only a black form on the ground, but she was certain that he
was aware of her anger, and that the corner of his mouth was turning up in that
almost-smile of his. She was too tired to find much humor in it, though, so she
walked away from him a few paces and sat down, leaning her head on her drawn-up
knees and closing her eyes.

           
 
There wasn't even a whisper of sound to warn
her, but suddenly he was behind her, his strong hands massaging the tight
muscles of her shoulders and neck. "Would you like to sleep in a real bed
tonight?" he murmured in her ear.

           
 
"And take a real bath. And eat real food.
Yes, I'd like that," she said, unaware of how wistful her tone was.

           
 
"A town this size probably has a hotel of
some sort, but we can't risk going there, not looking the way we do. I'll try
to find someone who takes in boarders and won't ask many questions."
Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet and draped his arm over her
shoulder. "Let's go, then. A bed sounds good to me, too."

           
 
Walking across the field, ever closer to the
beckoning lights, Jane became more conscious of how she looked, and she pushed
her fingers through her tangled hair. She knew that her clothes were filthy,
and that her face was probably dirty. "No one is going to let us in,"
she predicted.

           
 
"Money has a way of making people look
past the dirt."

           
 
She glanced up at him in surprise. "You
have money?"

           
 
"A good Boy Scout is always
prepared."

           
 
In the distance, the peculiarly mournful wail
of a train whistle floated into the air, reinforcing the fact that they'd left
the isolation of the rain forest behind. Oddly, Jane felt almost nakedly
vulnerable, and she moved closer to Grant. "This is stupid, but I'm
scared," she whispered.

           
 
"It's just a mild form of culture shock.
You'll feel better when you're in a tub of hot water." They kept to the
fringes of the town, in the shadows. It appeared to be a bustling little
community. Some of the streets were paved, and the main thoroughfare was lined
with prosperous looking stores. People walked and laughed and chatted, and from
somewhere came the unmistakable sound of a jukebox, another element of
civilization that jarred her nerves. The universally-known red and white sign
of a soft drink swung over a sidewalk, making her feel as if she had emerged
from a time warp. This was definitely culture shock.

           
 
Keeping her pushed behind him, Grant stopped
and carried on a quiet conversation with a rheumy-eyed old man who seemed
reluctant to be bothered. Finally Grant thanked him and walked away, still
keeping a firm grip on Jane's arm. "His sister-in-law's first cousin's
daughter takes in boarders," he told her, and Jane swallowed a gasp of
laughter.

           
 
"Do you know where his sister-in-law's
first cousin's daughter lives?"

           
 
"Sure. Down this street, turn left, then
right, follow the alley until it dead ends in a courtyard."

           
 
"If you say so."

           
 
Of course he found the boarding house easily,
and Jane leaned against the white adobe wall that surrounded the courtyard
while he rang the bell and talked with the small, plump woman who answered the
door. She seemed reluctant to admit such exceedingly grimy guests. Grant passed
her a wad of bills and explained that he and his wife had been doing field research
for an American pharmaceutical company, but their vehicle had broken down,
forcing them to walk in from their camp. Whether it was the money or the tale
of woe that swayed
Señora
Trejos
,
her face softened and she opened the grill, letting them in.

           
 
Seeing the tautness of Jane's face,
Señora
Trejos
softened even more.
"Poor lamb," she cooed, ignoring Jane's dirty state and putting her
plump arm around the young woman's sagging shoulders. "You are exhausted,
no? I have a nice cool bedroom with a soft bed for you and the
senor
,
 
and
I will bring you something good to eat. You will feel better then?"

           
 
Jane couldn't help smiling into the woman's
kind dark eyes. "That sounds wonderful, all of it," she managed in
her less-than-fluent Spanish. "But most of all, I need a bath. Would that
be possible?"

           
 
"But of course!"
Señora
Trejos
beamed with pride. "
Santos
and I, we have the water heated by the
tank. He brings the fuel for the heating from
San Jose
."

           
 
Chatting away, she led them inside her
comfortable house, with cool tiles on the floors and soothing white walls.
"The upstairs rooms are taken," she said apologetically. "I have
only the one room below the stairs, but it is nice and cool, and closer to the
conveniences."

           
 
"Thank you,
Señora
Trejos
," Grant said. "The downstairs room
will more than make us happy." It did. It was small, with bare floors and
plain white walls, and there was no furniture except for the wood framed double
bed, a cane chair by the lone, gracefully arched window, and a small wooden
washstand that held a pitcher and bowl. Jane gazed at the bed with undisguised
longing. It looked so cool and comfortable, with fat fluffy pillows.

           
 
Grant thanked
Señora
Trejos
again; then she went off to prepare them
something to eat, and they were alone. Jane glanced at him and found that he
was watching her steadily.
Somehow, being alone with him in a
bedroom felt different from being alone with him in a jungle.
There,
their seclusion had been accepted. Here there was the sensation of closing out the
world, of coming together in greater intimacy.

           
 
"You take the first turn at the
bath," he finally said. "Just don't go to sleep in the tub."
Jane didn't waste time protesting. She searched the lower floor, following her
nose, until she found
Señora
Trejos
happily puttering about the kitchen. "Pardon,
señora
,
"
 
she
said haltingly. She
didn't know all the words needed to explain her shortage of a robe or anything
to wear after taking a bath, but
Señora
Trejos
caught on immediately. A few minutes later Jane had
a plain white nightgown thrust into her hands and was shown to the
senora's
prized bathroom.

           
 
The bathroom had cracked tile and a deep,
old-fashioned tub with curved claw feet, but when she turned on the water it
gushed out in a hot flood. Sighing in satisfaction, Jane quickly unbuckled the
backpack from her belt and set it out of the way, then stripped off her clothes
and got into the tub, unwilling to wait until it was full. The heat seeped into
her sore muscles and a moan of pleasure escaped her. She would have liked to
soak in the tub for hours, but Grant was waiting for his own bath, so she
didn't allow herself to lean against the high back and relax. Quickly she
washed away the layers of grime, unable to believe how good it felt to be clean
again. Then she washed her hair, sighing in relief as the strands came
unmatted
and once again slipped through her fingers like
wet silk. Hurrying, she wrapped her hair in a towel and got her safety razor
out of the backpack. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she shaved her legs and
under her arms, then smoothed moisturizer into her skin. A smile kept tugging
at her mouth as she thought of spending the night in Grant's arms again. She
was going to be clean and sweet-smelling, her skin silky. After all, it wasn't
going to be easy to win a warrior's love, and she was going to use all the
weapons at her disposal.

           
 
She brushed her teeth, then combed out her wet
hair and pulled the white nightgown over her head, hoping that she wouldn't
meet any of
Señora
Trejos's
other boarders on the short trip back to her room. The
señora
had told her to leave her
clothes on the bathroom floor, that she would see that they were washed, so
Jane got the backpack and hurried down the hall to the room where Grant waited.
He had closed the shutters over the arched window and was leaning with one
shoulder propped against the wall, declining to sit in the single chair. He
looked up at her entrance, and the inky pupils at the center of his golden
irises expanded until there was only a thin ring of amber circling the black.
Jane paused, dropping the pack beside the bed, feeling abruptly shy, despite
the tempestuous lovemaking she'd shared with this man. He looked at her as if
he were about to pounce on her, and she found herself crossing her arms over
her breasts, aware that her nakedness was fully apparent beneath the thin
nightgown. She cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly dry. "The bathroom
is all yours." He straightened slowly, not taking his eyes from her.
"Why don't you go on to bed?"

           
 
"I'd rather wait for you," she
whispered.

           
 
"I'll wake you up when I come to
bed." The intensity of his gaze promised her that she wasn't going to
sleep alone that night.

           
 
"My hair… I have to dry my hair."

           
 
He nodded and left the room, and Jane sat down
on the chair weakly, shaking inside from the way he'd looked at her. Bending
over, she rubbed her hair briskly,
then
began to brush
it dry. It was so thick and long that it was still damp when Grant came back
into the room and stood silently, watching her as she sat bent over, her
slender arms curving as she drew the brush through the dark mass. She sat up,
tossing her head to fling her hair back over her shoulders, and for a moment
they simply stared at each other. They had made love before, but now sensual
awareness was zinging between them like an electric current. Without even
touching each other, they were both becoming aroused, their heartbeats
quickening, their skin growing hot.

           
 
He had shaved, probably using the razor she'd
left in the bathroom. It was the first time she'd seen him without several
days' growth of beard, and the clean, hard lines of his scarred face made her
breath catch. He was naked except for a towel knotted around his lean waist,
and as she watched he pulled the towel free and dropped it to the floor.
Reaching behind him, he locked the door. "Are you ready for bed?"

           
 
"My hair… isn't quite dry."

           
 
"Leave it," he said, coming toward
her. The brush dropped to the floor as he caught her hand and pulled her up.
Instantly she was in his arms, lifted off her feet by his fierce embrace. Their
mouths met hungrily, and her fingers tangled in his water-darkened hair,
holding him to her. His mouth was fresh and hot, his tongue thrusting deep into
her mouth in a kiss that made her whimper as currents of desire sizzled her
nerves.

           
 
He was hard against her, his manhood pushing
against her softness, his hands kneading her hips and rubbing her over him. Jane
pulled her mouth free, gasping, and dropped her head to his broad shoulder. She
couldn't contain the wild pleasure he was evoking, as if her body were out of
control, already reaching for the peak that his arousal promised. She'd been
quite content to live celibately for years, the passion in her
unawakened
until she met Grant. He was as wild and
beautiful and free as the majestic jaguars that melted silently through the
tangled green jungle. The wildness in him demanded a response, and she was
helpless to restrain it. He didn't have to patiently build her passion; one
kiss and she trembled against him, empty and aching and ready for him, her
breasts swollen and painful,
her
body growing wet and
soft.

           
 
"Let's get this thing off you," he
whispered, pulling at the nightgown and easing it up. Reluctantly she released
him, and he pulled the gown over her head, dropping it over the chair; then she
was back in his arms, and he carried her to the bed.