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As Tom and Alice Stewart, owners of the Kafue Lodge, came out to greet Wolf, they spotted their Zambian driver, a man who over the years had become a great friend. As everyone talked and caught up on news, Alexandra walked along the wooden deck toward the river to stretch her legs and get her bearings.
Africa.
Africa. Zambia. Kafue. Silently she repeated the exotic names as she faced the river, basking in the sun as the late, long rays of light painted the opposite riverbank copper and jade.
“Sorry you came?” Wolf asked, standing a little ways behind her.
She wasn’t entirely surprised to hear his voice. She’d felt him near, watching her, protecting her.
“No.” She turned, smiled at him over her shoulder. “This is amazing. We’re honeymooning in Africa.”
He walked toward her, hands in his pockets, his handsome jaw shadowed with a day’s growth of beard. “I’ve always loved Africa. It’s why I wanted to do this movie. It was a chance to bring the country I love to the screen.”
He was gazing out across the river, eyes narrowed, dense black lashes fanning his high cheekbones, and Alexandra flashed to their wedding night and the wonderful and wicked things they’d done together.
Biting her lip, she fought to suppress the flush already creeping up her cheeks.
Wolf caught the blush anyway. “You’re not thinking about Africa.”
Her blush deepened, her cheeks now scarlet. “No.”
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Oh, no.”
He reached out, caught her by the back of her neck, pulled her against him. “That’s okay,” he murmured mockingly, dark eyes drinking her in. “I know what you’re thinking and I want it, too.”
And then he was kissing her, turning her world upside down with that dizzying, maddening, knee-melting kiss of his. Her hands crept up to clasp his shirt and then she wound one arm higher, to wrap around his neck. She felt desperate—starved and parched, as though she couldn’t get enough.
She couldn’t get enough.
It was Wolf who finally ended the kiss, and lifting his head, his black eyebrows rose. “I don’t think you’re as sweet as your brothers think.”
Her lips parted to protest indignantly, but instead she laughed, a great big belly laugh that had tears smarting her eyes. “I think you’re finally starting to get to know me.”
Wolf was being hailed by one of the film crew standing at the lodge, but he didn’t immediately go. Instead he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “There’s a lot more I’d like to know, too. And that discovery, love, will continue tonight.”
Wolf didn’t forget his promise either. That evening after a rowdy dinner with the crew that had assembled—Joy, Alexandra noticed, hadn’t yet arrived—she found herself relaxing with the predominantly male crew. Having grown up in an all-male household, she was comfortable with men, knew how they talked, understood that they didn’t share feelings.
During dinner she good-naturedly endured the teasing, taunts and challenges thrown Wolf’s way. As a brand-new husband, the cast and crew were lamenting the end of Wolf’s freedom along with his bachelor days.
Wolf was the one who grew weary of the jests. As the moon rose higher in the sky and the crew started in on yet another round of beer and wine, Wolf told Alexandra that they were leaving and calling it a night. “Bring your glass,” he said, indicating her empty wine goblet.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Back to our room. I’ve had enough of these blokes. I’d rather be alone with you.”
He picked up a bottle of wine and a glass, and with her hand tucked into his they walked away from the lodge and down the flattened grass path to their rondavel.
Inside, he set the wine on the nightstand, taking her glass from her and placing it beside the bottle. But once Wolf took Alexandra into his arms, his mouth covering hers and turning her into a slave of her own senses, the wine was forgotten.
Joy didn’t arrive the next day either, causing considerable consternation in camp. Alexandra noticed the director and key staff engaging in several serious conversations at the open-air boma that overlooked the bend in the river. It was early spring and the tropical climate was temperate, with mornings and evenings decidedly cool while midday was sunny and extremely pleasant. However, the rainy season was just six weeks away and every day on location was precious. They couldn’t afford wasted days and yet there was little they could do without Joy, as she was in virtually every scene in the movie.
Late afternoon Daniel called for a read-through of the script and asked Alexandra if she’d mind reading Joy’s lines to allow the rest of the cast a chance to go through the script together.
She was embarrassed at first, but Daniel insisted, and as Alexandra took a seat at the long table in the lodge, Wolf gave her an encouraging nod. After a while she was so engrossed in the plot and story she lost her self-consciousness and enjoyed the read-through.
It was nearly dinner by the time they finished. Alice appeared as they were ending the read-through to invite everyone to the river boma for appetizers and cocktails.
“We’ve a bartender pouring drinks,” she said. “And if you’re lucky, you’ll see some of our famous wildlife—and no, I’m not just talking about my husband Tom.”
Wolf waited for Alexandra while she returned Joy’s script to Daniel and together they headed for the river bar. The sun was setting on the horizon, and as the deep lavender shadows stretched along the river, game began to appear.
Standing on the elevated rosewood deck, Wolf drew her in front of him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He felt so good, so warm and strong and solid. She reached up, covered his forearm with her hands, held him to her. She felt so safe standing together like this, absolutely secure. If only she could always feel this way.
Folding chairs covered in zebra and gemsbok dotted the deck and gradually they filled with the cast and crew. In the distance a lion roared, and Alexandra jumped, still not used to having real lions so close. Last night she’d woken to use the en suite bathroom and a deep huffing sound outside their rondavel had scared her—enough to wake Wolf as she’d scampered back into bed. Turned out the huffing had been a lioness walking through camp, trying to attract the attention of her mate.
Alexandra ended up getting the attention of her mate, too.
Wolf must have remembered last night’s middle-of-the-night seduction because he suddenly bent his head and nipped at the side of her neck, hardening her nipples and sending goose bumps up and down her arms.
“Not here,” she whispered, voice husky.
“Then let’s have a drink and excuse ourselves,” he said even as he slipped a hand between them to caress her backside.
It was getting hotter and harder to breathe, and as much as Alexandra liked the film crew, she didn’t think making love in front of them was such a good idea. Taking a quick step, she broke out of his arms. “Wait there. I’ll get the drinks.”
“You have two minutes or I’m dragging you back to the bungalow minus refreshments.”
She laughed, wagged her finger reprovingly at him. “We can’t go to our bungalow yet. Everyone will talk. We should at least wait until after dinner.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Yes you can.”
His dark eyes flashed a warning. “Fine. I’ll just make you pay later.”
She laughed again because when Wolf was like this he made her feel good, reminding her of the days at home when she used to challenge her brothers. She didn’t used to be afraid of anything.
As Alexandra waited her turn in line, she looked out at the river, now growing murky as dusk gave way to night. She liked it here in the “bush,” as their hosts Tom and Alice called it. She liked the smell, the feel, the pattern of the days.
Life was very communal, with everyone coming together at the lodge for meals, but then once the sun went down, the fire pit became the hub of social activity.
In the evenings th
e fireplace was surrounded by folding canvas chairs where the guests—in this case the crew and cast—relaxed, sipping cold vodkas, drinking beer and exchanging stories late into the night.
Being in camp at Kafue was almost like being in Montana on the ranch.
Just then a lion growled, louder, closer, and Alexandra shivered and grinned. Well, almost like Montana. Not quite.
During dinner Daniel deVoors drew Wolf into a discussion with the lighting director about setting up the cameras for the first scene they wanted to shoot. The lighting director had been watching the way the sun moved through the sky the past few days and the quality of light.
Alexandra leaned back in her chair and listened without really paying attention. The truth was she only had eyes for Wolf.
Spanish-Irish Wolf Kerrick with his savage beauty. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, with soul and sin carved into his features.
He knew the effect he had on women, she thought, knew how he could lay waste to an entire continent with a lift of a brow, the curve of his lip.
He’d possessed her imagination the very same way. She hadn’t wanted to want him, had been sure this time she could, she would, resist him.
She’d been wrong.
As if he could feel her long scrutiny, Wolf turned his head, looked at her, meeting her gaze. Their eyes locked, held.
Desire flared, hot and tangible.
Abruptly Wolf pushed back his chair, murmured something unintelligible to the others, but before he could completely break away, a laughing female voice called to them in the darkness.
“Now did you all really think I wasn’t coming?”
Alexandra froze, heart still thumping even though the blood began to chill in her veins.
Joy Hughes had just arrived.
