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She nodded in agreement.
Just as he’d predicted, at midmorning they came abruptly to the end of the jungle. They stood high on a steep cliff, and stretched out below them was a valley with cultivated fields, a small network of roads, and a cozy village situated at the southern end. Jane blinked at the suddenly brilliant sunlight. It was like stepping out of one century into another. The valley looked neat and prosperous, reminding her that Costa Rica was the most highly developed country in Central America, despite the thick tangle of virgin rain forest at her back.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Wouldn’t it be nice to sleep in a bed again?”
He grunted an absent reply, his narrowed eyes sweeping the valley for any sign of abnormal activity. Jane stood beside him, waiting for him to make his decision.
It was made for them. Abruptly he grabbed her arm and jerked her back into the sheltering foliage, dragging her to the ground behind a huge bush just as a helicopter suddenly roared over their heads. It was flying close to the ground, following the tree line; she had only a glimpse of it before it was gone, hidden by the trees. It was a gunship, and had camouflage paint.
“Did you see any markings?” she asked sharply, her nails digging into his skin.
“No. There weren’t any.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw. “There’s no way of telling who it belonged to, but we can’t take any chances. Now we know that we can’t just walk across the valley. We’ll work our way down, and try to find more cover.”
If anything, the terrain was even more difficult now. They were at the edge of a volcanic mountain range, and the land had been carved with a violent hand. It seemed to be either straight up, or straight down. Their pace was agonizingly slow as they worked their way down rocky bluffs and up steep gorges. When they stopped to eat, they had covered less than one-fourth the length of the valley, and Jane’s legs ached as they hadn’t since the wild run through the jungle the first day.
Right on schedule, just as they finished eating, they heard the boom of thunder. Grant looked around for shelter, considering every outcropping of rock. Then he pointed. “I think that’s a cave up there. If it is we’ll be in high cotton.”
“What?” Jane asked, frowning.
“Sitting pretty,” he explained. “Luxurious accommodations, in comparison to what we’ve had.”
“Unless it’s already occupied.”
“That’s why you’re going to wait down here while I check it out.” He moved up the fern-covered wall of the gorge, using bushes and vines and any other toehold he could find. The gorge itself was narrow and steep, enclosing them on all four sides. Its shape gave a curious clarity to the calls of the innumerable birds that flitted among the trees like living Christmas decorations, all decked out in their iridescent plumage. Directly overhead was a streak of sky, but it consisted of rolling black clouds instead of the clear blue that she’d seen only moments before.
Grant reached the cave, then immediately turned and waved to her. “Come on up; it’s clear! Can you make it?”
“Have I failed yet?” she quipped, starting the climb, but she’d had to force the humo
r. The desolation had been growing in her since they’d seen the valley. Knowing that they were so close to civilization made her realize that their time together was limited. While they had been in the forest, the only two people locked in a more primitive time, she’d had no sense of time running out. Now she couldn’t ignore the fact that soon, in a few days or less, their time together would end. She felt as if she’d already wasted so much time, as if the golden sand had been trickling through her fingers and she’d only just realized what she held. She felt panic-stricken at the thought of discovering love only to lose it, because there wasn’t enough time to let it grow.
He reached his hand down and caught hers, effortlessly lifting her the last few feet. “Make yourself comfortable; we could be here a while. This looks like the granddaddy of all storms.”
Jane surveyed their shelter. It wasn’t really a cave; it was little more than an indentation in the face of the rock, about eight feet deep. It had a steeply slanting ceiling that soared to ten or eleven feet at the opening of the cave, but was only about five feet high at the back. The floor was rocky, and one big rock, as large as a love seat and shaped like a peanut, lay close to the mouth of the cave. But it was dry, and because of its shallowness it wasn’t dark, so Jane wasn’t inclined to find fault with it.
Given Grant’s eerie sense of timing, she wasn’t surprised to hear the first enormous raindrops begin filtering through the trees just as he spread out the tarp at the back of the cave. He placed it behind the big rock, using its bulk to shelter them. She sat down on the tarp and drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees, listening to the sound of the rain as it increased in volume.
Soon it was a din and the solid sheets of water that obscured their vision heightened the impression that they were under a waterfall. She could hear the crack of lightning, feel the earth beneath her shake from the enormous claps of thunder. It was dark now, as the rain blotted out what light came through the thick canopy. She could barely see Grant, who was standing just inside the mouth of the cave with his shoulder propped against the wall, occasionally puffing on a cigarette.
Chills raced over her body as the rain cooled the air. Hugging her legs even tighter for warmth, Jane stared through the dimness at the broad, powerful shoulders outlined against the gray curtain of rain. He wasn’t an easy man to get to know. His personality was as shadowy as the jungle, yet just the sight of that muscular back made her feel safe and protected. She knew that he stood between her and any danger. He had already risked his life for her on more than one occasion, and was as matter-of-fact about it as if being shot at were an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it was for him, but Jane didn’t take it so lightly.
He finished his cigarette and field-stripped it. Jane doubted that anyone would track them here through the rain, but it was second nature to him to be cautious. He went back to his calm perusal of the storm, standing guard while she rested.
Something shifted inside her and coiled painfully in her chest. He was so alone. He was a hard, lonely man, but everything about him drew her like a magnet, pulling at her heart and body.
Her eyes clouded as she watched him. When this was over he’d walk away from her as if these days in the jungle had never existed. This was all routine for him. What she could have of him, all that she could ever have of him, was the present, too few days before this was over. And that just wasn’t enough.
She was cold now, chilled to her bones. The unceasing, impenetrable curtain of rain carried a damp coldness with it, and her own spirits chilled her from the inside. Instinctively, like a sinuous cat seeking heat, she uncoiled from the tarp and went up to him, gravitating to his certain warmth and comfort. Silently she slid her arms around his taut waist and pressed her face into the marvelous heat of his chest. Glancing down at her, he lifted an eyebrow in mild inquiry. “I’m cold,” she muttered, leaning her head on him and staring pensively at the rain.
He looped his arm around her shoulder, holding her closer to him and sharing his warmth with her. A shiver ran over her; he rubbed his free hand up her bare arm, feeling the coolness of her skin. Of its own accord his hand continued upward, stroking her satiny jaw, smoothing the dark tangle of hair away from her face. She was in a melancholy mood, this funny little cat, staring at the rain as if it would never stop, her eyes shadowed and that full, passionate mouth sad.
Cupping her chin in his hand, he tilted her face up so he could study her quiet expression. A small smile curved the corners of his hard mouth. “What’s wrong, honey? Rain making you feel blue?” Before she could answer, he bent his head and kissed her, using his own cure.
Jane’s hands went to his shoulders, clinging to him for support. His mouth was hard and demanding and oh so sweet. The taste of him, the feel of him, was just what she wanted. Her teeth parted, allowing the slow probing of his tongue. Deep inside her, fire began to curl, and she curled too, twining against him in an unconscious movement that he read immediately.
Lifting his mouth from hers just a little, he muttered, “Honey, this feels like an offer to me.”
Her dark eyes were a little dazed as she looked up at him. “I think it is,” she whispered.
