Postcards From Rio. Tina Beckett. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Tina Beckett
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon M&B
Жанр произведения: Короткие любовные романы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474095280
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your sleeping bag before you get into it in case a tarantula has crawled inside.’

      ‘Really?’ Clare paled. ‘I hate spiders.’ She winced as the Jeep hit a pothole in the road and she was jolted in her seat, only saved from hitting her head on the window by her seat belt. The dirt road was becoming progressively bumpier as they drove further west, and the trees on either side grew so densely that in places they formed a tunnel that the sunlight could barely penetrate. She did not want to think about spiders or any other deadly creatures that might be lurking in the humid gloom of the forest. Nor did she want to think of the evil men who had snatched Becky. She forced her mind to more pleasant thoughts. ‘I believe there are many different species of monkeys living in the rainforest. Do you like monkeys, Mr Cazorra?’

      ‘To eat?’ he drawled.

      ‘Of course not. You don’t really eat monkeys, do you?’ She gave him a horrified look, only realising when he grinned that he was teasing her. His smile should come with a danger warning, she thought, feeling the hard points of her nipples chafe against her lacy bra. Her inconvenient awareness of the prospector was making a stressful situation even worse. She could not bring herself to use his first name, preferring to keep a sense of formality between them. With a deep sigh, she turned her head and stared out of the window to remark on interesting flora and fauna as the Jeep bounced along the uneven road.

      They had been travelling for a couple of hours when the first drops of rain landed on the windscreen and quickly turned the dust-covered glass opaque, despite the efforts of the windscreen wipers.

      Diego cursed beneath his breath as within seconds the shower became a torrential downpour. From experience he knew the potholes in the road would soon fill up and the road would turn into a river of mud. He needed all his concentration to drive in these conditions, but his passenger hadn’t stopped talking for what seemed like eternity.

      ‘Sister Clare—’ he interrupted her mid flow as she listed some of the different types of flowers that apparently grew in the rainforest; the woman was a walking encyclopedia ‘—have you ever considered joining a silent order?’

      She blushed and Diego was fascinated by the rosy stain that spread across her cheeks. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a woman blush before, but the kind of women he associated with were not sweet virgins, he acknowledged. He pictured Sister Clare’s pretty face flushed with a glow of sexual arousal and shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his body reacted predictably.

      ‘I’m sorry.’ She nibbled her lower lip with her teeth, making Diego long to soothe the tender flesh with his tongue. ‘I tend to talk too much when I’m nervous,’ she admitted.

      ‘You’re right to be nervous. Torrente is not a nice place.’ He wished she had taken heed of what he’d told her about the town before they had left Manaus. ‘If you want to turn back, say so now. Once the road floods, I won’t be able to turn the Jeep round without the risk of the tyres becoming stuck in the mud.’

      ‘We can’t turn back!’ Panic made Clare’s voice sharp. The prospector gave her a curious glance and she forced herself to speak in a calmer tone. ‘I want to carry on to Torrente. I have a job to do there.’

      ‘Couldn’t you have taught at a Sunday school in England?’ he muttered, followed by something in Portuguese, and Clare guessed it was a good thing she did not understand.

      He had been right about the rain in the Amazon being a deluge. Five minutes ago the sun had been shining, but now it was as if a dam had burst and gallons of water were falling on to the Jeep and the road, which, as she peered through the windscreen, she could see was quickly becoming a river of mud.

      She was jolted violently as the wheels went down another pothole and the truck came to a standstill. Diego revved the engine but the Jeep did not move and, looking out of the side window, Clare saw the wheels spinning round in the mud. When he rammed the gear lever into reverse she held her breath as the Jeep moved backwards a little way before it stopped.

      ‘What are we going to do?’ Clare had to shout above the noise of the rain hitting the roof. ‘I thought the bad weather wasn’t due for a few days?’

      ‘It rains every day in the rainforest,’ Diego said ironically. ‘This shower will probably last for an hour. When the wet season starts properly it sometimes rains for days without stopping.’

      ‘I suppose we’ll have to wait until the rain stops before we can try to dig the wheels out of the mud?’

      ‘If we wait, the Jeep will sink up to the axles in no time. I’ve got some wooden planks in the back that I’ll put under the rear tyres.’

      Diego pulled the brim of his hat down low to shield his eyes from the rain and opened the door. Within seconds of stepping out of the Jeep he was soaked to the skin. ‘Slide across to the driver’s seat,’ he ordered Clare. ‘When you hear me thump twice on the Jeep I want you to start the engine, select reverse gear and then accelerate slowly.’ He looked at her closely. ‘Do you know how to drive a car?’

      ‘Yes, of course I do.’ She had never driven a four-by-four or attempted to free a vehicle that was stuck in mud, but Clare tried to sound more confident than she felt. After some fumbling, she found reverse gear and when she heard two thumps on the bodywork she pressed her foot down on the accelerator pedal. Nothing happened, so she pressed harder until finally the Jeep rolled backwards.

      They were free! Feeling a sense of achievement, she smiled at the prospector when he yanked open the door, but her smile faded as she took in his mud-spattered appearance.

      ‘Santa Mãe! I told you to accelerate slowly. Look at me.’

      Clare couldn’t stop looking at him! Even covered in mud he was the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on. She shifted across to the passenger seat so that he could climb into the Jeep. There was even mud on his face, but he still looked gorgeous and he exuded an air of toughness and raw masculinity that made Clare imagine being swept up into his arms and carried off to be thoroughly ravished by him.

      His T-shirt was sodden and her heart skipped a beat when he pulled it off to reveal his tanned chest, covered with a fuzz of golden hairs. Heaven help her. He had an amazing body. She could not tear her eyes from his well-defined six-pack and powerful shoulder muscles. Her parents would snap him up on to A-Star PR’s books, but she would feel a lot more comfortable if his toned physique was hidden from her view. ‘Do you have a spare shirt I could find for you?’ Her voice sounded annoyingly breathless.

      ‘There’s no point. It’s likely the Jeep will get stuck again and I’ll have to get out in the rain to free up the wheels.’ His eyes narrowed on her pink cheeks. ‘Next time, could you not stamp on the accelerator like you’re a racing car driver?’

      She was already overwrought with worry about Becky and felt ultra-sensitive to his criticism. ‘I’m sorry you got covered in mud, but I thought you wanted to get the Jeep out of the pothole,’ she said stiffly.

      ‘You have no idea what I want, Sister,’ Diego muttered. If she did not stop looking at him like she was doing—as if she had never seen a half-naked male before—he would be unable to restrain himself from showing her exactly what he wanted.

      He dragged his gaze from her cupid’s-bow lips and tried not to imagine how soft and moist her mouth would feel beneath his if he kissed her. It was likely she had never seen a man’s bare flesh, he conceded. His skin was burning up, but for the first time in his life he could not succumb to temptation. If she had been any other woman he would have suggested they climb into the back of the Jeep so that they could alleviate their mutual desire.

      For it was mutual. Diego’s extensive experience of women meant he was infallible at recognising the telltale signs of sexual awareness. Sister Clare was desperately trying to hide her reaction to the chemistry fizzing between them, but her big blue eyes reflected her sexual interest in him that her chosen way of life commanded her to deny.

      Deus, women were always trouble, he thought, reaching behind the seat for a beer. He flipped off the bottle top with the opener that, for convenience,