The Flyboy's Temptation. Kimberly Van Meter

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СКАЧАТЬ that a snake would not think her derriere was a good place to sink its fangs.

      Finished, she returned to the plane to find J.T. doing the same, only he hadn’t felt the need to hide behind a tree.

      She shouldn’t stare.

      But J.T. had the kind of body that females noticed—even if they were doing their best to ignore every muscled inch.

      Hand bracing himself against the plane, pants slung low on his hips, he groaned with relief as he pissed on the ground.

      Hope had just enough time to whirl around before J.T. turned and saw her gawking at his body.

      “Oh, hey, sorry, I thought I could finish before you returned.” He zipped and said, “All clear. No worries about seeing anything that might frighten you. I remember what you said about snakes.”

      Hope turned and faked a smile at his joke. “Very funny. As long as your snake doesn’t bite, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

      J.T. guffawed and rubbed at the stubble on his beard. “Well, at least the rain has stopped, right? Gotta be thankful for small favors.”

      True enough, but even as she was anxious to get moving, she knew the trip wasn’t going to be easy.

      “Right. Let’s eat our rations and pack up. I want to use as much daylight as we can before we have to stop and make camp.” She rummaged in her pack and pulled out the last protein bar, breaking it in half so they could share it as they had before. “Bon appétit.”

      Hope made sure to really savor each pseudochocolaty bite in the hopes that her stomach realized it would have to go without for the rest of the day unless they happened upon a burger joint in the middle of the jungle that allowed you to pay with a credit card.

      Within moments they were finished with their woefully inadequate breakfast/lunch/dinner ration and began to pack, but Hope had to keep stopping when the torn sleeves of her blouse kept snagging and getting in the way. “This stupid shirt...” she grumbled, wishing she’d chosen something more practical for the trip.

      J.T. surprised her when he stepped over and ripped the sleeves plain off, untucked the blouse from her tattered skirt and tied the front in a knot tightly around her waist. “There, that ought to help,” he said, grinning. “And it looks better, too.”

      Hope gaped, unable to believe what he’d just done. She glanced down at her ruined shirt and realized he was right. At least it wasn’t going to get caught on branches now. Although she wasn’t entirely comfortable with how much skin was showing, J.T. seemed fine with it.

      Ahem, he seemed more than fine with it if the appreciative glimmer in his eyes told the truth.

      “Thank you,” she murmured, shouldering her pack and hoisting it higher on her back and tightening the straps.

      The low buzz of an approaching aircraft caught their attention and Hope immediately started waving frantically to catch the pilot’s attention. J.T. yelled, “Get down!” and tackled her to the ground to hide in the foliage.

      “What are you doing?” she screeched, unable to believe he’d just submarined a possible way out of the jungle. “That could be our rescue plane!”

      “I can guarantee that is not a rescue plane,” he growled, holding her tight. “Remember how I said there were guerrillas in this jungle? Well, they use ultralight aircraft to patrol their territory, such as that Cessna that just flew overhead. Chances are they saw the plane down, which means they’re going to circle back around for a better look. We gotta get out of here, now.”

      A flutter of alarm traveled her spinal cord. “What if they saw me?”

      “Let’s not hang around and find out,” he said, letting her go as they climbed to their feet. The sound of the aircraft returning put their feet into sudden motion as they ran into the jungle, trying to lose themselves within the dense canopy.

      Branches scraped her face and thick tree roots tripped her more than once as they ran like bats out of hell until they could no longer hear the plane, but by that point they were so deep in the jungle Hope was terrified that they’d gone from the frying pan to the fire.

      Breathing hard, sweat running down their faces, they stopped to catch their breath as they regrouped.

      “Do you think they saw us?” she asked when she could speak again.

      “No way to know,” he answered grimly, and drew a deep breath. “But we gotta keep moving.”

      “But we don’t even know where we’re going!” she protested. “We could be heading in the wrong direction.”

      “We’ll follow the river. At least we’ll have access to drinking water.”

      “But you said the river would take us over a cliff,” she reminded him anxiously.

      “I guess we’ll just have to be careful.”

      He flashed her a grin that belied the seriousness of the situation and she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit reassured that they were going to be all right.

      As long as they weren’t eaten.

      Or shot.

       4

      J.T. TOOK POINT, pushing through the dense jungle, getting slapped and scratched by branches, as they slipped on slick mud and swatted at the mosquitoes that buzzed around their heads. By the time they reached the river bend, they were both hot, sweaty and hungry.

      “That protein bar didn’t go very far,” Hope said, squinting at the midday sun, breathless. “I feel like my stomach is caving in.”

      “Same,” he agreed, looking around. He knew that the Lacandon had plenty of edible fruits, tubers and greens, but he wasn’t about to take a chance and gnaw on a leaf he couldn’t identify.

      And seeing as he wasn’t a botanist, he couldn’t identify much of anything.

      However, Hope had better luck.

      “Oh!” she exclaimed, moving past him to crouch on the jungle floor beside a leafy green bush that looked, frankly, exactly the same as the rest of the jungle, but when she rose with a triumphant smile and a handful of green pods, he knew she’d found something. “These are edible berries,” she explained, plucking the green buds and pouring a few into his palm.

      “Are you sure?” he asked, regarding the buds with uncertainty. “I don’t want to die hallucinating that the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man is coming to eat me.”

      “They are completely safe,” she assured him, popping her handful into her mouth. Immediately grimacing, she added, “But no promises on how they taste. Good gravy, that’s a different flavor altogether.”

      He followed suit and experimentally chewed on the berries. “Whoa, you aren’t kidding,” he said, trying to categorize the flavor. “Not sweet, a bit sour...and grainy.”

      She nodded and swallowed. “But edible. We should СКАЧАТЬ