Rare Breed. Connie Hall

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СКАЧАТЬ drifted from behind them.

      MacKay was rambling on about the jeep breaking down. The guy knew how to beat a topic to death. “You need a new mechanic. That radiator had a leak. You couldn’t miss it.”

      Hellstrom was listening, nodding, with a gracious smile, but his deep-set gold eyes were on her. His straight black hair tapered to a razor-sharp widow’s peak on his tanned brow. Several strands fell on either side of his temples and made him look younger than his thirty-something years. His features were sharply chiseled, beautiful in a Michelangelo’s “David” sort of way. He was a walking Ralph Lauren ad. Charisma oozed from him and she found herself unable to look away.

      Was he wondering why she was here? She felt the roller coaster take another dive. Just breathe. Smile. Be friendly.

      MacKay seemed to realize he’d lost his audience and he said, “Better have your vehicles checked out by someone competent.” Then he remembered Wynne and said, “Look what I dug up.” He gestured toward her.

      “Wynne, how have you ended up with my guest?” Hellstrom’s voice held a hint of an apology.

      “I found him lost down by the river. Next time a guest ventures out alone at night, I’d make them take a guide along—for their own safety. And make them aware of the park’s hours.”

      “Of course, how remiss of me.”

      “And you might want to instruct them about firearms.”

      “Of course.” Hellstrom pulled at a ruby cufflink.

      “Don’t read the riot act to the man. It’s my own fault.” Oddly MacKay’s grin had been replaced by a sober expression. “I thought it would be all right to look at the park. He didn’t know I took off and went sightseeing.”

      Wynne thought MacKay had jumped at that too easily. And there was a note of falseness in his voice. He was covering something. He and Hellstrom were probably better acquainted than MacKay had let on.

      “You’ll know better next time, won’t you, Jack?” Hellstrom said smoothly.

      “Sure.” MacKay nodded, not at all contrite, just unusually curt with his one-word reply.

      “I’m sorry he took you away from your duties, Wynne.”

      She waited for the invitation. It didn’t come. Hellstrom seemed to be giving her an entry for an exit.

      “I should go.” Wynne turned to leave.

      MacKay said, “Wait. You’ve come this far. You can’t leave now.”

      Hellstrom shot MacKay a glance, but the four hundred-watt smile never left Hellstrom’s face. “Quite right.” He took in her appearance. “But you might want to freshen up a bit.”

      Wynne glanced at her torn shirt. The slingshot was wrapped around her waist, bits of leaves stuck in it. Her hiking boots were slathered in river mud. The mosquito remedy still caked to her neck and her face was beginning to itch. She hadn’t realized just how grubby she was. In her line of work, she was used to getting dirty. She had never been more aware that her femininity had taken a back seat since coming to Africa.

      She maintained a smile and felt her cheeks straining in an attempt to be civil. “You’ll have to forgive my appearance. I’ve been working.”

      “I wonder how she cleans up?” MacKay said, while his blue eyes roved over her body. “Versace might look real nice on her.”

      Wynne smiled sweetly at MacKay, though it was slowly killing her. “I’m afraid I’m all out of designer dresses. There isn’t much use for them in my line of work.”

      A door opened and a beautiful woman in a strapless black evening gown glided through. The woman’s complexion was so smooth and white it looked transparent. Her dark curly hair fell in waves to her shoulders. She was model thin, maybe in her late twenties.

      A cacophony of voices followed her into the foyer, along with the cloying scent of her perfume. She gently closed the door behind her and muted the sound. She stepped over to Hellstrom and touched his arm possessively. “Noah, dearest, we’ve run out of champagne,” she spoke in a British accent.

      Slight annoyance flashed across Hellstrom’s expression, then it disappeared into his usual polite demeanor. “Jacqueline, you’ve met Mr. MacKay, but I don’t think you’ve met Wynne Sperling.”

      “Charmed, I’m sure.” Jacqueline gave Wynne an uninterested passing glance, then her gaze settled on MacKay. “Jack, it’s always a pleasure.” Her smile turned sensual.

      MacKay’s blue eyes glittered as he winked at her. “The pleasure’s all mine, darlin’.”

      Did MacKay flirt with every woman within eyeshot? Or was Wynne picking up on a kinky factor between the three-some? Did they pass Jacqueline around like a pool cue? Maybe she’d found Hellstrom’s dark side. If she had any doubts that MacKay and Hellstrom were more than business associates, they were gone now.

      The pool cue turned her attention back to Wynne. “And are you one of Noah’s customers?”

      “I’m a ranger. We kinda work together.”

      “Oh.” Jacqueline leaned so close to Hellstrom her breasts touched his arm.

      Gracious as ever, Hellstrom said, “And she’ll be staying for the party. Wynne, I’ll have a servant show you where to freshen up—”

      “Thank you.”

      “I should change, too.” MacKay winked at Wynne and said, “I’ll definitely see you later, darlin’.”

      Wynne wanted to say “Fat chance,” but she had to play the game. She watched him walk out the front door, grinning like a hyena. He must be staying in one of the guest quarters.

      “My servant will show you where to go,” Hellstrom said to Wynne, then clicked his fingers.

      A short slender African came running down the hall. His head reached the top of Wynne’s rib cage. He was enrobed in a white gauze tunic and scandals. The Pygmy looked more child than man. How he heard Hellstrom’s summons over the music and conversation puzzled Wynne. He kept his head bowed as he listened to Hellstrom’s orders.

      Hellstrom spoke a dialect that Wynne recognized as one of several languages Pygmies used, then said to Wynne, “Tungana will take care of you.”

      “Thank you.”

      Tungana motioned for Wynne to follow him, but didn’t lift his eyes up to her face.

      Wynne trailed Tungana down the hall, feeling Hellstrom and Jacqueline’s gaze on her. She wondered about the extent of the relationship between Hellstrom and MacKay, and when they were out of Hellstrom’s hearing range, she casually asked Tungana, “Is MacKay an old friend of Mr. Hellstrom’s?”

      “Don’t know.” Tungana spoke in broken English and shook his small head.

      “You’ve never seen him in Mr. Hellstrom’s company before?”

      “Don’t know.”

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