Читать книгу Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart of the Jaguar - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 11

By the time their jet touched down at Lima’s international airport, it was 0600. Pink touched the rim of the horizon, and ordinarily, Mike would have enjoyed the spectacle of color set against the darkness of the Andes mountains, where Lima sat loftily overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Disgruntled, unable to sleep and generally grouchy because of his head-on clash with Ann, he strode off the plane. His heart ached with grief over the loss of the trust he’d forged with her on the ranch. How could he have fallen so helplessly and hopelessly in need of her in two short months? Maybe he was more lonely than he realized. But it was more than loneliness, he realized. He knew now that he wasn’t the kind of man who could go through life without a good woman at his side. The tragedy and loss he had endured in his past had told him he had no right to ever try and reach out and love again. Mike never expected to find love again—nor did he want to. He’d always thought of himself as a doomed man. Because of his dangerous lifestyle, he’d always known it was just a matter of time until his body became meat for buzzards. And then Ann Parsons had walked into his life and he’d begun to dream once more of happiness. What a fool he was.

The dark smudges under Ann’s glorious eyes told him she didn’t feel much better than he did. Dammit, he wanted to apologize for some of the things he’d said to her in anger earlier. Somehow, she got to him, and he lost his normal ability to hold on to his temper. Great. Just great. More than anything, Mike didn’t want to leave her with hurtful feelings between them. Ann deserved better than that. He owed it to her to make amends and try to heal the bad blood between them.

Slowing his gait, he waited for her to catch up. One nice thing about first class was that they were off the plane first. He slung the black canvas knapsack he always carried with him over his left shoulder. As Ann approached, he saw that her dark hair was in mild disarray, and he had the maddening urge to reach over and comb his fingers through the thick, gleaming strands, which shimmered with highlights of gold and red. Better not, he warned himself. She’ll take my hand off at the elbow. And then he grinned carelessly. He knew it would be worth it, because she’d once allowed him the privilege of sliding his fingers through her silky hair in one of their stolen moments—in the heat of a hungry, searching kiss.

Once Ann was beside him, he continued toward the terminal. Even at this time of morning, Lima airport was busy. Mike wasn’t surprised. Peru’s capital was a twenty-four-hours-a-day city. It was cosmopolitan, upscale and surging ahead because of the influence of Japanese investors and the huge population of Japanese people who had left their island home to settle here. They brought money into the economy, and over the years Lima had become the third largest enclave of Japanese in the world. Only São Paulo, Brazil, had a larger population outside Japan.

As he stepped into the terminal, he saw a huge crowd of people waiting for folks to disembark from their flight. Too bad he didn’t have a special somebody waiting for him. Someone like Ann. Hell, he had too much of the romantic left in him. Or maybe being with a woman he was so drawn to had stirred up that vat of loneliness he’d stuffed deep down inside of him. No, the army was his only wife, and this was one time he was regretting that dictate. Well, it didn’t matter anyway, because Ann didn’t want him. And if she hadn’t before, she sure as hell didn’t now after his stupid, stupid remarks to her in the heat of their argument on board the aircraft.

At customs Mike dropped easily into Spanish, Lima’s main language. Japanese was a close second and one that he’d mastered with a lot of difficulty over the years because of his position with the Peruvian government. He remained on guard, always looking around. Now that he was back on Peruvian soil, he had to be alert or he could be killed. The young lady behind the desk, obviously Castilian Spanish with her golden skin, thin proud features, black eyes and shining black hair, smiled at him. Mike felt a little better just seeing a pleasant expression on someone’s face for a change.

At the check-in desk, he launched into conversation with the ticketing agent about a van that was due to bring the medical supplies, to be carried in on the next flight. In the meantime, he saw Ann halt a few feet away and observe the busy, crowded terminal. She didn’t look like a doctor in that moment. No, just a very thin, tired woman. His conscience ate at him big-time. Thanking the agent, Mike turned and sauntered over to where she stood just outside of the streams of people coming and going in the terminal.

“I’ve never been to Lima,” Ann confessed without looking up at him. “This airport reminds me of the Chicago terminal—huge, bustling and busy twenty-four hours a day. I just never imagined it.” Mike’s presence, especially in the fog of her exhaustion, was overwhelming to her. Ann felt herself seesawing between going with him to the clinic and remaining at the terminal to catch the next flight back to the States. She saw the anguish in his dark eyes, the fatigue clearly marked on his own hard features, and felt a wonderful blanket of protection and care settle around her. She knew that feeling came from being with him. She tried to tell herself that his care didn’t mean anything. However, she was too tired to fight the truth of what she felt emanating from him. And she knew the rawness she felt in her chest was her own longing for him.

She’d had a long time on their flight to feel her way through her jangled feelings, her confusion, her fear and her needs. Although she lay in her chair, her eyes closed, Ann hadn’t slept because she’d been too upset. How had she come to feel so much for Mike while at the ranch? How? No matter what she did, the answer didn’t seem forthcoming. Ann had sworn never to fall for a man again…not with her bad track record. How had Mike eased himself into her life? Was it that boyish smile he flashed at her in unexpected moments, always catching her off guard? Was it his obvious passion for living life fully and for the moment? That dancing glint in his eyes that broadcast such warmth and tenderness toward her every time he looked at her? His hot, searching kisses? The way he touched her, fanning coals of passion into wildly flaring flames? It was more than sexual, Ann admitted darkly. She liked Mike. His integrity. His continued efforts to help the poor and defend them. She approved of his morals and values. There was nothing, really, not to like about Mike Houston, she sourly admitted. Absolutely nothing. Except for the mystery she felt around him—that mystical quality she couldn’t pinpoint with her razor-honed intellect. Not all the academic degrees in the world could outfit her to deal with someone like Houston.

“Maybe,” Mike growled, despite his attempt to take the sting out of his tone, “if you give Peru half a chance, she’ll seduce you like she did me when I came here more than a decade ago.” He heaved an inner sigh of relief. At least Ann was talking civilly to him once again. But then, she hadn’t slept, either, so he knew she was probably feeling more like a walking zombie right now and the blame game was low on her list of priorities.

Pointing toward where they had to walk to get to the baggage claim area, he added, “They call Lima the Jewel of the Pacific. The city sits up on the slopes of the lower Andes and looks out over the dark blue Pacific Ocean. The first time I came here, I didn’t know what to expect. My mother had told me many, many stories of Lima, and how beautiful it was—the apartments that had flower boxes on their balconies and the trees that made the city look more like a park than a maze of steel-and-glass sentinels. She loved this city.” Mike risked a glance down at Ann. Even though she was a good five feet nine inches tall, she was still short in comparison to him.

She refused to look up at him. The way her full lips were pursed told him that he’d hurt her earlier with his nasty, spiteful comments. Ruthlessly, Houston absorbed her aristocratic profile. She had high cheekbones, like his Indian ancestors did. With another sigh, he dropped his gaze to her pursed lips once more. To hell with it. Somehow, he had to change things so that they parted on good terms at least. He took a deep breath, reached out and gripped her arm gently, forcing her to look at him.

“Listen,” he muttered darkly as her expression changed to one of shock as he touched her, “I’m sorry for what I said to you on the plane. It wasn’t right and—”

A cry for help halfway down the terminal ripped through the early morning air. People began to slow down or hurry a little faster.

Scowling, Mike dropped his hand from Ann’s arm, instantly alert. “Now what?” he growled.

Ann looked in direction of the sound. She could hear a woman sobbing and screaming for help. She saw Mike Houston peering above the heads of the crowd. “You’re taller than I am,” she exclaimed. “What do you see? What’s going on?”

Grimacing, he glanced down at her. “Someone’s in trouble. Medical trouble. Come on….” He took off in long, loping strides.

“Mike! Wait!” Ann hurried to catch up. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man and he cut a swathe through the crowds in the airport terminal. She wasn’t so lucky and was stopped repeatedly. As she hurried along in his wake, she found herself admiring the way he ran, with a boneless, swift grace that reminded her of a large cat. Perhaps a cougar loping along silently, yet with remarkable power. Other people seemed to sense it, too, for Houston was never elbowed, stopped, nor did he have to change direction. No, the masses parted for him like the Red Sea had for Moses. Ann realized she was witnessing that impenetrable mystery about him in action now. No wonder they called him the jaguar god.

Mike’s eyes widened as he made his way through the large circle of people that had formed. In the middle was a woman crying hysterically. A young woman, very pretty, well-heeled and dressed in a purple business suit. He knew her well. It was Elena Valdez, wife of Antonio Valdez, one of the most prominent and powerful businessmen in Lima. What the hell was happening?

“Step aside,” Mike growled, opening a path to where Elena stood sobbing, her fists against her mouth. She was from one of the old aristocratic families of Peru, of pure Castilian blood. Normally aloof and serene, her mascaraed eyes were running dark streaks like war paint down her cheeks, her red lips contorted as she stared down at the floor. Mike followed her wild, shocked gaze.

“Antonio!” he rasped. Houston suddenly spun on his heel and roared at the crowd, “Give us room!”

Miraculously, everyone took a number of steps back widening the circle. There on the floor, ashen and unmoving, was Antonio Valdez. The thousand-dollar, dark blue pinstripe suit he wore went with the short, sleek black hair combed back on his narrow skull. His red silk tie looked garish next to his pasty flesh as Mike sank to his knees.

“Antonio—Tony!” He gripped the businessman’s shoulder. The man did not respond. Sensing Ann’s presence, Mike snapped his head up as he placed two fingers against the man’s neck.

“Cardiac arrest,” he stated shortly. “No pulse…” He leaned down, his ear close to the man’s nose. “No breath.” He jabbed at his backpack, which he’d dropped nearby. “There’s a bag-valve mask in there. Get it. An OPA, too.” He ripped at the man’s tie, the silk of his shirt giving way under the power of Mike’s efforts. Then he tipped the man’s head back to create an airway. He heard Elena sobbing wildly.

“Oh, Mike! Mike! Antonio was just walking with me. Everything was fine. Fine! And suddenly…suddenly he grew very pale and groaned. He collapsed, mi amigo. Oh, Mike! Help him! Help him!”

Jerking the tie from Tony’s neck, Houston shot a glance at Ann, who was on her knees, digging furiously in his backpack. All the tiredness, the cloudy look in her eyes, had dissolved. When she looked up, protective green latex gloves in hand, he reached out and took them. With expert swiftness, he donned them. “Get the goggles, too. If he vomits, I don’t want it in our eyes.”

“Right!” Ann handed him a pair of plastic goggles. Her hands trembled slightly as she placed the white OPA, a plastic device known as an oropharyngeal airway, into the patient’s mouth. This device would keep his tongue from falling back and blocking his breathing passage once they started pumping air into his lungs.

Ann grabbed the bag-valve mask and moved once more to the man’s head. She knelt and settled the translucent, soft plastic mask over his face. The mask was attached to the blue, oval-shaped rubber bag that would start pumping air into him.

Mike watched her get into position. She leaned over the man, ready.

“Have you got paramedics posted here at the terminal?” she demanded, squeezing the appliance.

“Hell, no.” Mike looked up and barked at a younger man dressed in business clothes. “You! Get to a white phone! Call security for help. Tell them we’ve got a cardiac case in terminal three. Tell them to call an ambulance, pronto!”

“Sí, sí!” the man shouted, and he turned and worked his way through the crowd.

“Okay, let’s get on it,” Ann whispered.

Mike appreciated her cool efficiency as he knelt on the other side of Antonio and placed his hands just below the man’s sternum. He laid his large palm flat against his chest, then nodded in her direction. “Give ’em air. Two breaths.”

“I know CPR.”

He heard the warning clip of her voice. Scowling, he concentrated on his part of the two-person procedure. After two breaths, he leaned over Tony and delivered a powerful downward push over the sternum. The heart lay under that long, flat bone that held the rib cage together.

In moments, they were working like a well-oiled team. Houston forgot the pandemonium around them, forgot Elena’s sobbing. He counted to himself, his mouth thinned, his nostrils flaring.

Two minutes into the process, he rasped, “Stop CPR.” Anxiously, he placed his fingers against Antonio’s neck.

“No pulse.” He leaned down, praying for the man to at least be breathing. “No breath.”

“Do you know him?”

Houston gave a jerky nod as he repositioned his hands. “Yes. Start CPR.”

Ann squeezed the bag-valve mask, delivering a long, slow dose of oxygen into the man’s chest cavity. She saw the patient’s wife kneel down at his feet, sobbing and praying. She was so young and pretty—she couldn’t be more than in her late twenties.

“How old is he?”

“Forty-five.”

“Perfect age for a CA.”

“Yeah, isn’t it, though?” Mike continued to push down on the man’s chest again and again. He kept looking at Tony’s color. “Damn, this isn’t working.”

“How long before an ambulance arrives with a defibrillator machine?”

“Too long,” he muttered. “Too damn long. Stop CPR. We’re going to do something different.”

Ann watched as Houston jerked the shirt completely away from the man’s chest. She saw him ball up his fist. She knew what he was going to do. In the absence of a defibrillator, which with an electrical shock could jolt the heart into starting again, a medic could strike the sternum with a fist. Sometimes, though rarely, the hard, shocking blow would get the heart restarted. It was risky. She noted the strain on Mike’s face, the glistening sweat on his wrinkled brow. His eyes had turned a dark, stormy blue, and she knew all his focus was on his abilities as a paramedic, despite the many other emotions he had to be feeling.

“Is he a friend of yours?” she asked, holding the man’s head steady as Mike prepared to strike his chest.

“Yes. A damn good friend. God, I hope this works,” he said.

Mike measured where his fist would strike the man’s sternum. He gripped Tony’s shoulder to hold him in place. Raising his arm, he smashed his fist downward in a hard arc. Flesh met flesh. He heard his friend’s sternum crack loudly beneath his assault.

“Come on! Come on!” Houston snarled as he gripped the man’s lifeless shoulders and shook him hard. “Damn you, Tony!” he breathed into the man’s graying face, “don’t you dare die on me!” He put his fingers against his neck.

“Nothing,” he growled.

“Do it again,” Ann ordered in a hushed tone. She saw the fear in Houston’s eyes.

“He’s dumping on us….”

“I don’t care. It’s all we got! Hit him again!”

For a split second, Ann met his distraught eyes. And then he balled his fist again. Once the sternum was broken there was a danger that any further strikes to jolt the heart could create lacerations in the liver and possibly the heart itself, from fragments of bone that had been broken by the first blow. Antonio could bleed to death as a result.

“You mean son of a bitch,” Houston growled at Tony as he raised his fist. “You live! You hear me?” Then he brought his fist down just as hard as the first time.

The man’s whole body jarred and jerked beneath the second blow. Ann held the man’s head and neck in alignment and continued to pump oxygen into him. She watched as Mike leaned over to check for pulse and breathing. Whether it was because she was already numb with tiredness and drained emotionally, she didn’t know, but for a split second as he leaned down, snarling in Spanish at his friend, she thought she was seeing things.

Houston’s growling voice wasn’t human any longer. It sounded to her like a huge jungle cat. It shocked her, the primal, sound reverberating through every pore in her body as he leaned over and shook Antonio. She sensed an energy in the air, pummeling her repeatedly like wildly racing ocean waves. She realized it was emanating from Houston as he leaned over Antonio, almost willing him to breathe again.

“You’re not dying on me,” he rasped, striking him even harder than before, in the center of the chest. “Live! Live, you hear me?”

Ann blinked belatedly. As Houston struck the man a third time, she knew she was seeing things. His head disappeared, and in its place she saw the golden face of a jaguar or leopard, black crescent spots against gold fur. She was hallucinating! Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and opened them again. Mike was leaning over his friend, his fingers pressed insistently against his neck. My God, what was happening? What was she seeing? For the first time, Ann clearly realized that she was on a mission with an incredibly attractive man whose power was beyond her own rational mind.

“Tony!” he pleaded hoarsely. “Don’t die on me! Don’t!”

Houston’s plea shook her. Gone was the hard soldier’s mask. She trembled at the raw emotion of his voice. Tears stung her eyes. What a horrible thing to come home to—seeing a good friend go into cardiac arrest and then watching him die. Ann was ready to tell Mike that it was too late. Only seven percent of people suffering from a heart attack ever revived with the help of CPR.

Again she gazed up through her veil of tears. She no longer heard the onlookers or felt them closing in on them, inch by inch. She watched as Houston hunkered over the older man, gripping him by the shoulders and giving him a good, hard shake. Yet again Houston struck him in the chest.

“Mike—” she begged.

“Wait! A pulse! I’ve got a pulse!” He gave a cry of triumph and watched intensely as the man’s face began to lose some of its grayness. “Bag ’em hard,” he snapped. “Pump all the oxygen you can into him.” He grinned tightly and put a coat beneath the man’s legs to elevate them slightly. Leaning over him again, he called, “Tony? Tony, you hear me? Open those ugly eyes of yours and look up at me. It’s Mike. Mike Houston. Come on, buddy, you can do it. Open your eyes!” And he shook him again, all the time keeping a firm grip on his friend’s arms.

Houston watched the dark lashes tremble against the man’s pasty features. “That’s it, open your eyes. I’m here. You’re gonna be okay. Come on, come on back. You’re too mean to die yet….” Then he grinned as Tony opened his dark brown eyes and stared groggily up at him.

Almost immediately, the patient started gagging. Ann removed the bag-valve mask from his face, took out the breathing appliance and threw it aside. She quickly replaced the mask, holding it there until she and Mike were both sure he was getting enough oxygen and was breathing well on his own.

Houston heard Elena cry out her husband’s name as she bent over him.

“Calm down, Elena,” he coaxed, reaching across and soothingly moving his hand against her thin shoulder as she gripped her husband’s hand. “He’s okay….” Mike wasn’t sure how okay Antonio really was. He knew the man had suffered a massive heart attack. How bad, they’d only know after a series of tests at the hospital.

Risking a look up at Ann, who was still kneeling at Tony’s head, delivering the life-giving oxygen, he saw tears sparkling in her eyes. They caught him completely off guard. Returning his attention to his friend, he reached down, got his stethoscope from the bag and listened intently to his heart. It was a good, strong beat. Then Mike took his blood pressure.

“Eighty over sixty,” he announced with satisfaction.

“It could be better,” Ann said.

Grimly, Mike deflated the blood pressure cuff. “Give him five minutes. He’s not dumping on us. Color’s flooding his face. His capillary refill is better,” he murmured as he pinched the index fingernail of Tony’s right hand. Normally, the capillary refill took two seconds or less to flow back into the pinched area. It was a good indicator that the heart was pumping strongly and normally, supplying the life-giving substance to even the farthest extremities of the body.

“Three seconds?” Ann asked.

Houston nodded. He waited to recheck the blood pressure, but five minutes seemed to take forever. Glancing at his watch, he wished the second hand would move faster.

Elena was speaking in hushed tones to her husband. When Tony tried to reach up and touch his wife’s wet, pale face, Mike grinned. “You’re gonna be fine, Tony. But right now, keep your hands off Elena, you hear me? Just lie there and let your strength come back.” He glanced at Ann. “Stop bagging him.”

She nodded and watched as he took another blood pressure reading. Houston’s expression was intense and hard now. She was seeing his professional side as a paramedic once more. He was very good at what he did. He had an incredible confidence that radiated from him like the sun sending energy earthward. She watched as his thinned lips relaxed. A cocky, one-cornered smile tugged at his mouth as he removed the stethoscope from his ears and settled it around his thick, well-muscled neck. When he looked in her direction, she felt incredible tenderness coming from him. It wasn’t for her, but she basked in that invisible glow just the same. In that moment, he looked like a little boy, his blue eyes sparkling with unabashed joy.

“One-ten over eighty. He’s stabilizing. He’s through the worst of it.”

“Yes,” Ann quavered, giving him a trembling smile of triumph. “He’s going to live….”

Houston stood with Ann at his side as the ambulance paramedics took Antonio Valdez away on a gurney. Most of the crowd had disappeared now that the life-and-death drama was over. Without thinking, Mike put his hand on her shoulder. “Hell of a welcome to Lima.”

Ann felt the warm strength of his hand. She recognized his gesture for what it was. People in the medical field had to be devoid of emotion, keep ahead of the curve in any emergency, think rationally and stay calm when everything around them was shaking apart. She lifted her chin and met Mike’s blue gaze, absorbing his touch, the energy that seemed to tingle from his hand into her shoulder. It made her feel safe and cared for. His touch felt like life itself throbbing through her. It wasn’t the first time she had felt this unusual sensation. Now it was far more palpable and comforting. A soft smile flitted across her face. “Yes, it was…but you were good. Very good. You knew what to do.” Her heart expanded wildly. How could she stand the thought of not being near Mike? Suddenly, Ann realized how much her life had changed since he had walked into it.

Digesting the feelings that overrode her normal fears, she understood for the first time how much Houston had become a part of her, and vice versa, it seemed. They had been a good team. They’d worked as one. Perhaps it was due to sleep deprivation, but there in the Lima terminal Ann listened to her heart more closely than she had in a long time.

Houston absorbed that hesitant, fleeting smile Ann gave him. How beautiful she was, even though her hair was in mild disarray and her white blouse rumpled from the long flight. “So were you. We’re a good team, you and I.” And then he grinned. “Even if we do fight like dogs and cats.” He didn’t want to remove his hand, but he knew it was best. Allowing it to fall back to his side, Mike thought he saw a fleeting darkness in Ann’s wide, intelligent eyes. Unable to interpret what it meant, he cocked his head.

“Let me at least buy you a good cup of espresso before I leave for the clinic. It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping save Tony’s life. I owe you one….”

Ann frowned. “I’ll take the offer, but what makes you think you’re leaving this terminal without me?” For better or worse, she had made a decision to stay—because of her feelings toward Mike. She was scared to death, but she had to take the risk. Her mind screamed at her that she was a fool, but her heart was expanding with such joy over her decision that she felt breathless. Inwardly, she knew she was making the right choice, regardless of her dark, haunting past.

Scowling, Houston halted abruptly and turned to face her. There was surprise written on his features. “You made it very clear you didn’t want to be down here with me,” he began slowly, his voice low with raw feeling. Tony almost dying had left Mike more vulnerable than usual. He was afraid to believe what he’d just heard. His heart pounded briefly to underscore his need for Ann. His fear. Mike searched her calm features. Her eyes shone with hope. The fear was still there, but it had lessened. What was going on? Stunned by her words, he rasped, “Or was I hearing wrong?”

“You didn’t hear wrong, Mike. I changed my mind, that’s all. You got a problem with that?” Ann held his flaring look of surprise. She felt an avalanche of that powerful energy deluge her momentarily. She remembered how, when she was bagging Antonio, she’d seen the awe in people’s faces as Mike worked over the man. All eyes had been riveted on him as he struggled to save his friend’s life.

There was no question in her mind why Houston was not only a leader, but one that few people, including herself, could resist. Even if it was dangerous to her wounded heart. She was too afraid, still, to admit for sure why she agreed to stay on. Only time would tell, and another six weeks would hopefully yield the answer she was searching for.

Her mouth twisted wryly. “This is probably the sorriest decision I’ll ever make, Houston, but I’m sticking it out down here for six weeks. With or without you. I honor Morgan’s commitments. I go where he sends me.” She saw hope burning fiercely in Mike’s eyes, and more…much more….

Mike just stared at her for a moment. Here was the confident, gutsy woman he knew lived inside her, but who he’d rarely seen. The question why are you staying? was almost torn from him, but he forced the words back down. Whether Ann knew it or not, he had a powerful, ongoing connection with her. He sensed a lot more about her than she realized. He knew she was scared, but he also sensed her feelings for him—feelings that had existed all along but that she’d refused to share with him. Now, for whatever reason, she was doing that. Euphoria robbed Mike momentarily of words. Was it possible that she was going to allow their relationship to grow? The thought was heady. Wild. Full of promise. At the same time, he felt full of fear for an uncertain future. Those he cared for died. She would die, too. No, he had to keep his distance. He had to protect her from himself at all costs. His whole life was committed to killing Eduardo Escovar. Mike was in a death spiral dance with the drug lord and he had no room for a woman in his life. Especially a woman like Ann Parsons. Another part of him, one that surprised the hell out of him, reveled in her decision to remain with him in Peru, regardless.

Ann watched a slow grin crawl across his face. Houston had such a strong, chiseled mouth. A beautiful mouth, she admitted. One that she wanted to feel against her lips again and again. For whatever reason, she felt bolder than she had in a long time. Maybe seeing Antonio almost die had ripped away something inside her, made her realize life was precious and should be lived in the moment, not hidden in some dark closet of fear…. Chagrined, Ann cut off the thoughts and feelings that seem to grow like grass whenever she was around the charismatic army officer.

“Well,” she challenged, her voice husky, “are you going to stand there gawking or are you going to buy me that espresso you promised?”

Snapping into action, Houston slid his hand around her upper arm and guided her forward. “No, ma’am, I’ll buy you that well-deserved cup of espresso.” He felt edgy with fear. He was raw with wanting. Wanting her. Breath-stealing elation raced through him as Ann strode at his side. This time she didn’t seem to mind his hand on her arm. Indeed, it was as if she liked it there. But Houston didn’t fool himself. They’d just been through a very intense life-and-death situation. He found it normal that medicos automatically drew close to one another for emotional support after a crisis was over. It was only human, he warned himself. Still, his fingers tingled wildly as he felt the slip and slide of Ann’s light wool blazer against the white silk of her blouse, the firmness of her flesh beneath it. He reveled in the pleasurable sensation, feeling once again like a greedy beggar taking whatever crumbs she’d unknowingly thrown out to him.

Had Antonio’s heart attack triggered her own need to live life more fully? To possibly reach out to him? Grinning recklessly, laughter rumbling up from his chest, he said, “This has been one wild ride so far, Dr. Parsons, and the day is young yet….”

She raised one brow and glanced up at him as they walked. “I give you that,” she replied, her pulse speeding up. The undisguised happiness in Mike’s eyes affected her, left her aching to kiss him, to feel his hands slide around her torso as he pulled her uncompromisingly against his body. She longed to experience his sweet assault upon her senses once again, and it almost overwhelmed her.

When Mike glanced down at her, he realized in that split second that Ann had dropped her guard, because she was grinning, too. There was bright color in her cheeks, and she looked damn beautiful when she blushed. Instantly, she turned away to avoid his eyes. But not even that could mar Houston’s happiness at her decision to stay in Peru.

To hell with it. Mike threw all caution aside. “Come here….” he murmured huskily as he drew Ann out of the traffic of the busy terminal. Backing her against the wall, he leaned close to her. In her eyes he read the need she felt for him, and registered in every fiber of his being. The connection between them was as palpable as the feel of his fingers as he grazed the slope of her flushed cheek.

“I need you,” he rasped, placing his hand against her cheek and guiding her face upward. The driving need to kiss her and the need he saw in her eyes made him let down his own guard for this one, exquisite moment. He saw her eyes widen momentarily, heard her breath hitch. He sensed her emotional response, and it felt damn good washing through him. Smiling tenderly down at her as he lightly brushed her parting lips with his, he saw the fear in her eyes dissolve. Yes, she wanted this as much as he did.

For one heated moment out of time, all the terminal sounds, the people’s voices, faded from Ann’s awareness. All she’d longed for moments ago was happening. Somehow, Mike had known she needed him. It was all so crazy. So mixed up. Yet as she lifted her chin and felt his strong mouth settle upon her lips, nothing had ever felt so right. So pure. So devastatingly beautiful. His strong arm moved around her back and she felt him pull her against him. There was no mistaking his gesture; it was clearly that of a man claiming his woman.

Her lashes swept downward and the ache inside her intensified as his mouth skimmed hers. How good he tasted! She inhaled his very male scent into her quivering nostrils, slid her hands upward against his barrel chest, her fingers digging convulsively against the fabric of his shirt, marveling in the strength of his muscles tightening beneath her exploration. His mouth slid surely against her lips, rocking them open even farther, his tongue thrusting boldly into her mouth. She gave a moan of sweet surrender as she lost herself in the fiery, hungry mating. All that existed in that moment was Mike, his maleness, his tender domination of her as a woman yielding to him in almost every way possible. Oh, how stupid she had been not to give herself to him sooner!

His mouth moved possessively and she responded just as hungrily and boldly to his dizzying assault. With him, she felt a primal wildness she’d never felt with any man. He brought out her earthiness, her need to be her untamed, untrammeled self. His hand slid behind her head, holding her, trapping her so he could taste her even more deeply. The sweet hotness and longing built between her thighs as she felt him grind his hips demandingly against hers. There was no mistaking his need of her. Ann felt urgency and frustration. Her fingers opened and closed spasmodically against his thickly corded neck. She couldn’t get enough of him and drowned in the splendor of his tender assault upon her.

Ann wanted the hot, branding kiss, the sweet, unspoken promise between them to last forever. As Houston began to ease his mouth from hers, she cried out internally, not wanting to cease contact with him in any way. Yet she knew they must. She was sure they were making a spectacle of themselves in the corridor. People were staring at them but for once, Ann didn’t care. Mike had somehow dissolved all her fears, her need to be proper and prudish out in public. He tore away her doctor’s facade and stripped her naked, revealing her hot, womanly core of primitive needs and desires. As she looked dazedly up into his narrowed, gleaming eyes, she had never felt so protected or desired.

His face was alive with feelings—for her. Ann saw it in his burning look, his mouth only inches from her own as he stood over her, his arm continuing to press her tightly against him. She tasted him on her lips. She felt the masculine hardness of him against her abdomen and her own heated response to his hunger. Never had Ann felt more alive than now. Never. Her breath was shallow and gasping. She tried to speak.

“No…” Houston rasped thickly, “don’t think for once, Ann. Just feel. Feel!” he ordered, and captured her glistening lips one more time.

Sinking against him, her knees like jelly due to his renewed assault on her senses, Ann felt the world skid to a dizzying halt. Only Mike and she existed. She no longer cared what anyone thought as she held him tightly against her, her breasts hard against his chest. Their hearts were pounding; she could feel his as if it were inside her. The sensation was shockingly beautiful and one she’d never experienced before. The sandpaper quality of his beard against her cheek, his hot, moist breath, the taste and power of him as he grazed her lips repeatedly, almost teasingly, left her aching painfully. She wanted to feel him inside her, filling her, taking her, making her his in every conceivable way. Whatever fear had held her was gone now, and in its place, a fierce desire for Mike welled up, surging through her like a tidal wave.

Gradually, ever so gradually, Houston forced himself to ease back from Ann’s lips. Lips made of the wild honey he’d found only in the jungles of Peru. Honey that was so sweet it made him dissolve beneath her searching, innocent mouth. There was no question he needed her. None. And as he opened his eyes and stared down into her dazed blue-gray ones, he knew she needed him, too. She was trembling with need of him. But so was he. He regretted kissing her here in the terminal. Anywhere else would have been better than here. The painful knot in his lower body attested to the poor choice of location. He wanted to love her thoroughly, to indelibly print his essence within her. Wanted so badly to claim her and make her his woman it was nearly his undoing. The fierceness of his desire for Ann was far more than just sexual, because he was in touch with every subtle essence within her—from her emotions to her spirit. Ann didn’t know that, but he knew she could feel his bond with her as much as he did. That much was clear in the awe he saw reflected in her eyes, the questions about what she was feeling.

“Shh,” he whispered, grazing his thumb across her wet lips, “just feel, Ann. Just feel…. It’s real…all of this is real, I promise you. You aren’t imagining anything.” He closed his eyes and rested his brow against hers, letting himself sink back into that invisible connection that he’d allowed to fully form between them. Once Ann could talk to him about her feelings and openly confide in him, he vowed to tell her all that had happened to him in the jungle. Another part of him told him he was crazy for allowing her to get close to him. Did he want to put her in that kind of danger? How could he? But Ann would have to know the truth very soon. She had to make her own decision about whether he was worth desiring or not.

Easing away, Houston cupped her shoulders and gently moved her away from him. Ann’s face was flushed, her eyes soft and filled with desire—for him. Never had he felt stronger…or more protective. His mouth curved ruefully.

“Would you like to go freshen up in the ladies’ room?”

Swaying uncertainly in his embrace, Ann nodded. Looking around, she felt embarrassment flooding her. Many people had stopped to watch them. “Oh dear…yes, yes I would….”

Mike nodded and placed his arm around her. “Don’t worry, folks around here understand lovers. They aren’t staring at us because we kissed, you know. Down here, everyone loves lovers.” He guided Ann toward the women’s restroom up ahead.

Grateful for his humor, his protective demeanor against the many prying eyes, Ann tried to contain her escaping feelings. She pushed strands of hair away from her face and forced herself to breathe more evenly. Lovers. The word flowed through her. Yes, she wanted to be Mike’s lover. Every cell in her body was aching with need of him, more than ever now. Just being close to him was feeding that brightly burning fire that had roared to life in her during his searching, hungry kisses.

Reaching the ladies’ room, Ann forced herself to walk into it. She felt drunk. Drunk with pleasure and desire. Somehow, she had to pull herself back together again. At the washbasin, she sloshed cold water repeatedly into her face until she felt some semblance of order returning to her. She spent a great deal more time in there than was necessary; it took a good ten minutes to gather herself. Blotting her face, she quickly ran a brush through her mussed hair and put lipstick back on her soft, well-kissed mouth.

All of her carefully orchestrated life had just exploded. Completely. Ann was no longer thinking with her head, only her heart. The switch was shocking to her. All her life, she’d allowed her head to rule her, not her emotions. In Mike’s presence, all she wanted to do was feel—and then feel some more. What was going to happen? Could she control herself where he was concerned? She felt like a teenager with her hormones running away from her, like she had no control over anything. All she had to do was think of Mike, allow his hard features to gel before her, and she grew hot and shaky all over again. Ann thought it was because she’d denied her real feelings for him throughout the last two months. This time his kiss had ripped the lid off Pandora’s box.

Groaning, she took a deep breath, talked sternly to herself and left the restroom. She found Houston standing across the corridor, his back to the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. How calm and centered he seemed! Ann stood there for a moment, envying his obvious control. He looked fine. He looked like nothing had happened. But it had. Something life-shattering had occurred within her when he’d held her minutes ago. Something so profound, so deep had occurred that Ann needed time to try and understand what had taken place.

As if sensing she was there, he turned his gaze to her. In that instant, her heart responded violently, and again that sense of warmth and protection he gave her overwhelmed her. Suddenly dizzy, Ann leaned against the wall, unsure of what was happening. Instantly, she saw Mike straighten and walk directly to her.

Before he could say anything, she held out her hand. “I’m okay. I really am.”

He smiled a little and placed his hand on her left arm, just in case. “You look beautiful,” he whispered huskily. And she did. Her lips were soft from his kisses, her eyes velvet with desire. The flush across her cheeks was still there, and as he drew her back into the traffic, he thought she looked like a teenage girl who had just experienced her very first kiss from the boy she had a crush on.

Ann leaned against him as he placed his arm around her shoulders and led her along. Grateful for his understanding, she managed to murmur, “I’ve never felt like this, Mike. Ever.”

Chuckling indulgently, he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I told you Peru would cast her spell on you. Down here, magic happens all the time.”

“Magic? Humph. More like a sledgehammer to my head, if you ask me.” Ann heard him laugh deeply over her remark. She felt his steadying care and she acquiesced to his superior strength.

“Well,” he drawled, giving her a teasing look, “maybe our kiss had a little something to do with that?”

Refusing to be baited, Ann tried to give him a dour look. “You don’t have to look like a satisfied cat about it, Houston.”

Preening a little, Mike broadened his grin into one of boyish delight. “That kiss has been a long time in coming. And there’s no way I’m apologizing for it. Ah, here we are.” He halted. “This is just what you need—espresso to settle your nerves.”

Ann laughed a little as they stood in front of the restaurant. “Oh, sure, coffee to soothe my jangled nerves. Right.” They stood looking at the small café with its red-and-green-striped awning.

“I always stop here, at Federico’s Place, to get my espresso when I’m coming in off a long flight.” Mike gestured to the brass-and-glass doors. “Come on. He’s got the best espresso in Lima. I swear it.”

Once they were seated at a small round table covered in expensive white linen and decorated with colorful flowers in a cut-glass vase, Ann smiled gratefully at the waiter. When he delivered their coffee a moment later, she cautiously sipped the tiny, fragile cup of espresso, and studied the man before her. Mike Houston was simply too large for the white wrought-iron chair, the table or even this small café. But it was there that he frequented because the owner, Federico, had recognized him instantly. There had been a lot of backslapping, smiles and greetings. And it seemed the two young waiters knew him, too. She was beginning to wonder who Houston didn’t know, but then, he’d been down here more than ten years, and in his line of business, it was good to know a lot of people.

“Well?” Mike demanded. “What do you think?” He’d already drunk half of his espresso, while Ann had only hesitantly tasted hers. He supposed she was like that with everything in her life: cautious and slow. Why? She had that shadowed look back in her eyes as she lifted the English china cup to her lips and looked at him over the rim.

“It’s sweet…and tastes surprisingly mild.” Ann set the cup down. “I thought it would taste bitter because it’s so concentrated.”

Chuckling, Mike finished off his first cup. A second magically showed up seconds later, Federico himself brought it over with a flourish. Mike nodded and thanked the restaurant owner. “What you poor folks up in Norteamérica get for coffee beans, is a sin,” he said to Ann with a laugh. “Sudamericanos aren’t stupid.” He raised the cup in toast to her. “We keep the best beans down here, and that’s what you’re drinking—Andean coffee raised on slopes so high that the condors fly over them daily. Coffee growing in some of the finest, richest lava soil in the world. It has to taste good.”

Ann couldn’t help but smile. “You are so passionate about everything. I’ve never met anyone like you before.” It was Mike’s passion that was somehow encouraging her to tap into her own desires on such a primal, wonderful level of herself as a woman.

His reckless grin broadened. “My mother often told me when I was a young kid growing up that if I didn’t love whatever I was doing, I’d eventually curl up and die. She told me to do things that made my heart sing, that made my heart soar like the condors that hang above the Andes.” He sobered a little and sighed. “She was a woman of immense intelligence, I realized as I got old enough and experienced enough to really understand what she was telling me.”

“To live life with passion,” Ann murmured. “That’s not one I’ve heard of late.”

“So,” Mike said, “do you live your life with passion? Do you love what you do as a medical doctor?”

“I like what I do. It feels good to be able to stop a person’s pain, to stop death from cheating a life…but passion? I don’t know about that.” She frowned and picked up her cup once again. “I certainly don’t live with the gusto you do.”

“A little while ago,” Mike murmured in a low intimate tone, as he turned the tiny cup around and around between his massive, scarred hands, “I saw a different Ann Parsons out there. Not the one I knew for eight weeks in Arizona. This woman, the one I kissed today, was—different. Provocative…passionate…committed…”

“Translated, that means what?”

“Just that I felt a much different woman,” Mike said in a whisper, so that no one could eavesdrop.

Avoiding his heated look, Ann tinkered nervously with the cup in her hands. “Mike…give me time. I—I’m just not prepared to say much right now.”

Holding up his palm in a gesture of peace, he added huskily, “You’re a woman of immense feelings. I understand. You’re like a deep, deep well of water. Not many are privy to the real feelings you hide so well.”

Ann couldn’t deny any of it. Stealing a glance at him, she whispered, “I don’t know what happened to me today, Mike. Maybe something changed in me when I saw Antonio almost die. I usually protect myself from personal feelings in these situations….” Her words trailed away as she became pensive. Mike deserved her honesty here. Setting the cup down, she forced herself to add, “I guess your passion for living life with emotion has rubbed off onto me a lot more than I realized. Watching your friend almost die probably shook that loose in me. It was time, I guess….”

Mike nodded, feeling the gravity of her statement. She was being honest on a level he’d never experienced with her before—due to that magical connection forged between them earlier, in that beautiful moment when he’d kissed her. He decided to return some of her honesty. “When I was trying to save Tony, I was afraid,” he admitted. “I was afraid he was dead. I wanted him to live so damn bad I could taste it. I could feel myself willing my heartbeat, my energy or whatever it was, into his body. And when I looked up at you in that moment, I felt hope. It spurred me on.” With a shrug, he added a little shamefacedly, “I can’t tell you what went on between us in that split second, I only know that something did. And somehow, it gave me hope when I didn’t really have any left.”

“All that in one look,” Ann murmured as she sipped the espresso. “I’m amazed, frankly.” Still, she felt good at Mike’s sincere praise, at the admiration in his eyes. She liked the feeling.

“You have a very healing effect on people, whether you know it or not,” Houston said sincerely.

“Something else happened back there, Mike,” Ann began hesitantly. “I think what I saw may have been a result of sleep deprivation.” She saw him frown. With a wave of her thin hand, she said, “Not that it was bad. It was just…shocking.”

“What happened?”

“Promise you won’t tell me I had a brief, acute psychotic episode?”

“No problem. You’re sane and well grounded.” Interested in hearing her experience, Houston asked, “This happened while we were bagging Tony?”

“Yes. At one point,” Ann continued, setting the espresso aside and folding her hands on the table, “something changed. You got far more intense than before. You’d hit him twice in the chest and he hadn’t started breathing again. I know you were desperate. You wanted your friend to live. That was normal behavior, but…” she folded her hands “…then something happened, and I can’t explain it or even begin to get a handle on it.”

“What?” Mike’s scowl deepened. He saw a flush stain Ann’s cheeks. “Something that upset you?”

“It didn’t upset me exactly, Mike. I just felt these incredible waves of energy striking me, like waves from the ocean, only…they were coming from you. I actually felt buffeted by them as you leaned over Tony, working so intently with him, willing him to live. And then, the silliest thing of all, I saw this shadow or something…. It descended over you. Well, part of you. And it was only for a split second. I’m sure it was a sleep-deprivation hallucination….”

“What did you see?” he demanded darkly.

Taking a deep breath, Ann dived into her experience. “I saw this dark shadow appear above your head. It just seemed to form out of nowhere. I’m not sure anyone else saw it.” Moistening her lips and avoiding his sharp, glittering gaze, she added, “I saw it come over you like a transparency of some sort, fitting over your head and shoulders.” Embarrassed, she gave an awkward laugh, and said, “For a moment, it looked like a jaguar or leopard over your head. I no longer saw your face, your profile. Instead I saw this huge cat’s head and massive shoulders. Well,” Ann murmured wryly, risking a look up at him, “I’m sure by now you think I experienced a psychotic episode.”

Mike shrugged. “Down here,” he muttered uncomfortably, “I carry a name.”

“Excuse me?”

His brows knitted and he stared down at his espresso cup. “I have a nickname….” He heaved a sigh. Lifting his head, he met her frank blue-gray gaze. “I’m sure you’ll hear it sooner rather than later, so I might as well tell you myself. I’m called the jaguar god. It’s a reputation I’ve garnered over the years. The cocaine lords started calling me that a long time ago. The name stuck.” He grimaced.

“It’s not a bad name,” Ann murmured. “Why are you so uncomfortable with it?”

Mike sat up and flexed his shoulders. “Someday, Ann, I’ll tell you more about it. More than likely my friends at the clinic will fill your ears about me, about the legend surrounding me, until you’re sick and tired of hearing that name.”

Ann frowned. “You mean there’s more to this? I wasn’t seeing things?”

Mike rose and pulled some sols from his pocket. “You’re a trained therapist. You know how sleep deprivation and emotional stress can make you hallucinate during intense moments of crisis,” he said, deciding that the truth would have to wait. He couldn’t risk her rejection of him. Not after that nourishing kiss. “Come on, that van should be ready by now and those medical supplies loaded in it.”