Diamond Legacy Read online

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Neither of us had a conventional upbringing.” She curled her legs up beside her and leaned toward him on one hand. “We are fortunate, you and I.” She poked him in the chest with her finger, and his skin tingled from her touch. “We’ve experienced things normal children in normal families would not.”

  Something he never considered a good quality. “Sometimes that experience comes with a price. One that, given a choice, you wouldn’t pay.”

  “Meaning the loss of your parents.”

  He gazed up at the stars and saw his parents as they once were—happy and full of life, their energy for helping others endless. “They’d be alive today if we lived that normal life.”

  “Don’t do that.” She reached across and brushed his cheek with her fingertips before tracing the line of his jaw and dropping away. “It was their choice. Can you honestly see them doing anything else? See living your own life any differently?”

  His gut clenched at the impact of her words. Or maybe it was the effect of her touch. Either way, she’d made her point. Despite a long-standing wish otherwise, he couldn’t envision life any other way.

  He lifted his gourd. “A toast then. To the unconventional.”

  She laughed and reached for her drink. Lifting it high, the gourds made a hollow thunk as they knocked them together and drank.

  “Tell me more about your life growing up.”

  She seemed genuinely interested and, for some reason, that surprised him. Most people steered away from personal details, or maybe it was him that kept the distance. Why things felt different with Miranda, he couldn’t begin to fathom.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked.

  “How old were you when you came to Africa?”

  He thought back. “Eight, I think. I was about ten when we arrived in this village. My parents were the first missionaries to bring them modern medicine, and we lived among them for over three years. Now and then we’d visit other villages, but we stayed here longer than any other place.”

  “What was it like growing up here?” She hiccupped but still managed to sound intrigued.

  “Liberating, but I didn’t know it at the time.” Memories crowded in, and for once, he let them. “I learned to track game, throw a spear, and read signs in the land. I ate native foods, helped build thatch huts, and did just about anything any African child was expected to do.”

  “Incredible.”

  He glanced her way and swore she appeared envious. He wasn’t used to that kind of reaction to his life.

  “How about school?” She took another sip and brushed the back of her hand across her chin. “Were you able to keep traditional grade levels?”

  “Not in the strictest sense.” Matt matched her drink with a long one of his own. Liquid courage to face memories long shoved aside. “My mother was a teacher and made sure my studies weren’t neglected. Not an easy task considering my penchant to roam. Her persistence paid off, though. When I had to go live in Arizona, I tested much higher than the ninth grade they forced me to enter.”

  “I would’ve liked to meet her. She must’ve been an amazing woman to live the kind of life she did.”

  Admiration was not something he associated with his past. Regret was. Now, for the first time, he saw that life through someone else’s eyes and a trickle of warmth crept in. “My parents loved their work. I’d watch them labor all day in the mud and heat, be worn out, tired, and hungry, and both still grinning like kids.”

  “You miss them, don’t you?” Her softly spoken question jarred him back to reality.

  He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Anger was the inevitable result. “I’ve learned to live with it.” His answer came out sounding curt.

  “I don’t think you have.”

  “It makes little difference,” he scoffed. “The past doesn’t change, and life goes on.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  She must be feeling the liquor, because she made no sense.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Just what are you talking about?”

  “Everything in one’s life is affected by their youth.” She shifted position again, hugging her knees and gazing at him with a compassion he didn’t want. “The way I see it, your very job stems from a desire to get even. To make the bad guys pay.”

  Absolutely. And he had no intention of discussing it. In fact, this line of conversation was over. Tonight was supposed to reveal things about her. Not the other way around.

  “It’s my turn,” he said.

  “Your turn for what?”

  “Twenty questions.”

  A frown settled between her brows. “Must we?”

  “It’s only fair.”

  She seemed to consider it for a moment, then shrugged.

  Good. He’d start with the basics. “How old are you?”

  “That’s easy. Just turned twenty-nine.”

  “And you’re from San Diego, working at the zoo.”

  Her fingers covered her mouth as she gave a light yawn. “That’s right.”

  “Have you ever been married?”

  “Almost,” she said absently. “Once.”

  Now this was interesting. “What happened?”

  “I came here instead.”

  That recent? “Who was he?”

  She grabbed her gourd and took another drink before answering him. “Hank Meadows, staff director for the zoo. A nice man, but Erika said he had no zing.”

  “Erika, as in your sister?”

  Miranda nodded and wiggled the gourd. The liquid sloshed inside. “You know, this stuff is stronger than a martini. Which I like, by the way. Especially the apple kind.” She hiccupped again and set the drink aside. “I think I’ve had enough.”

  He hadn’t. “What’s zing?”

  She looked his way and wiggled her eyebrows. “Spark, excitement, desire. The stuff that makes you crazy. In a word? You.”

  She smiled and swayed in place. How could one get wobbly sitting down?

  Suddenly she gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth, looking at him in wide-eyed dismay. “Tell me I didn’t just say what I think I just said,” she mumbled through her fingers.

  His grin turned sly. Mampoer was better than any truth serum. Miranda hadn’t really stood a chance, something that should make him feel guilty, but it didn’t. He had zing.

  “Would Erika agree with you?”

  Her assessment of him was thorough. He could see heat smoldering behind her eyes, and it triggered an instant tightening in his lower belly. When she parted her lips and traced the lower with her fingertip, he wanted to yank her into his arms and show her the real meaning of zing.

  She didn’t seem to notice. “I believe Erika would likely shove me in your direction.”

  “So what’s stopping you?”

  “I’m only here five weeks.”

  Nowhere near long enough, but he’d work with what he had. “So?”

  “There’s no point starting a relationship that has no chance.”

  Now why did that thought bother him? “You’re wrong.”

  She angled a sideways glance at him. “How’s that?”

  “What are the odds of two people from opposite sides of the planet meeting? It’s more like we’ve been given a chance. What a shame to waste it.”

  She frowned and turned to stare at the darkened Kalahari, as though she were contemplating his words. Matt held his breath, anticipation running high. She’d come around. Zing was surely irresistible. It was only a matter of time. He could wait a second or two.

  When she lifted her gourd and drank, perhaps like him for courage, he sensed victory within his grasp. Yet she still didn’t move. Instead, she sat there worrying that delectable lower lip of hers, driving him insane with the urge to make the decision for her.

  He saw the second she turned the corner.

  She faced him and the sultry smile that curv
ed her lips sent his pulse into overdrive. “Show me what I’d be missing.”

  Oh, yeah. This woman was going to be trouble. The kind that was hot, delicious, and rare. He should take warning. Instead, his fingers drifted across that inviting lower lip, curled behind her neck, and pulled her slowly toward him.

  She wouldn’t wait. She grasped the collar of his shirt with both hands and yanked him closer. “Now!”

  Denial was the farthest thing from his mind, yet he hovered, savoring victory and the hunger lighting her eyes.

  “If you don’t get busy,” she threatened, “I’m going to change my mind.”

  He took that threat seriously and wasted no more time. He closed the gap, capturing her lips with a swirl of excitement and desire.

  And she responded with equal enthusiasm. Her arms slid around his neck and pulled him closer. She pressed so tight against him, it was hard to tell if the shudder was hers or his, but it didn’t matter. Not when she was warm, willing, and demanding.

  Her tongue stroked his lower lip, paving the way for her teeth to capture and tug softly. Fire surged through his veins. He wanted her, wanted her to want him with the same hunger that thundered in his ears. He kissed her deep and long, his tongue tangling with hers, his entire body thrumming with sensual energy.

  This was zing. Hot, spicy, can’t get enough kind of zing. It was more intoxicating than mampoer. A primal urge to possess her took control. The world fell away, and when she moaned low in her throat, he growled with the need to take more.

  He wasn’t even close to satisfied, but he needed to breathe. His fingers twisted through her silky hair, gently tilting her head back, breaking the kiss long enough to taste her neck, to dip lower and nuzzle her tempting curves beneath the frilly top. Her soft floral scent surrounded him, and he breathed deep, enjoying its freshness.

  Miranda’s chest rose on a deep sigh, and her hands slid from his shoulders. She relaxed back against his arms, and he lowered her to the rock, stretching alongside her. Sliding his leg across her thighs, he brushed his hand over her flat stomach. When he moved up to cup a breast, he realized something was wrong.

  Her eyes were closed and her breathing slow and deep. Alarm raced through him, and he lifted her arm, only to have it to drop back to the rock, limp.

  She was asleep!

  No! This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to end. Desire still fired his blood, and he lifted his gaze to the sky, wanting to howl his frustration at the moon.

  Instead, he rolled onto his back beside a sleeping Miranda and stared up at the stars. They mocked him, laughed at his stupid plan of getting her tipsy enough to break past that thorny barrier of hers. He had succeeded all right, too well.

  African moonshine had won this round. He wouldn’t be so foolhardy next time.

  Next time? Did he actually want to pursue this woman? He sat up and stared at Sleeping Beauty. Spent the next hour detailing every reason why he shouldn’t. Yet for every mark against, he came up with two saying yes. In the end, he resolved nothing.

  With a heavy sigh, he admitted defeat for tonight. He set to work, rousing Miranda enough to lift her into his arms and head out. It was going to be a long trek back to the Rover.

  Chapter 14

  Morning sunlight slashed across Miranda’s bed, and with a pain induced groan, she rolled over and slid a pillow over her head. With awareness came agony, a hammering in her brain that sounded like an echo of last night’s drums.

  Flashes of the wedding, the dance, and karamu jolted her awake. She fought against consciousness, wanting nothing more than to drift back into oblivion. It wasn’t happening. Images of Matt under a blanket of stars teased her, and snippets of conversation floated across her memory.

  Something hovered just out of reach. Something important. Yet the harder she tried to focus, the more her head pounded.

  She lifted the pillow’s edge and glared at the bedside clock. Seven-fifteen. Another groan of misery escaped her. Time to get moving. Jason and breakfast were less than an hour away.

  With super-human effort, she rolled over and flipped back the covers. Cool morning air met her bare legs and for a split-second she savored the relief it offered. Then she frowned. Something was wrong.

  Moving as easy as her head would allow, she swung her legs over the edge and glanced down. What happened to her pajamas? Why was she only in her camisole and panties? She always wore pajamas. Always.

  More disturbing than that, no memory of climbing into bed existed. How did she get here? A suspicion formed in the back of her mind, one she refused to acknowledge. No way would she ever allow Matthew Bennett to undress her and put her in bed.

  Unless she had drank herself insensible.

  No. She wasn’t that foolish. She must’ve stripped off her clothes and dropped into bed. Totally a plausible scenario, given her late night condition. At the edges of her memory, the shadow of an all-consuming kiss taunted, but it couldn’t have possibly been real. It had to be a mampoer-induced dream.

  She risked a glance about the room and found her blouse and skirt tossed over the back of a chair, her sandals on the floor beside it. They told her nothing.

  Growing unease added to her headache. Today would be difficult enough without worrying over missing pajamas. Untangling the mystery would have to wait. What she needed now was a hot shower, a couple aspirin, and multiple cups of coffee.

  And she needed them yesterday.

  * * * *

  Jason whistled when she joined him at breakfast, and she flinched as she slid into the chair across from him.

  “That must’ve been some wedding reception!” He pushed a carafe of coffee her way.

  “You’ve no idea.” She slid an empty mug over, added cream, and filled it to the brim with rejuvenating caffeine. “A tribal ceremony on a dry lakebed at the edge of the Kalahari.”

  “What?”

  She winced. “Please…not so loud.”

  “Are you saying I declined the event of the trip?”

  She sighed. “Right off the Discovery Channel.”

  “Oh, man! I’m gonna kill him. Why didn’t he tell me it was that kind of wedding? What happened? What was it like? Did you take notes?”

  “No notes.” Steam from the coffee tickled her nose, and she breathed deep the rejuvenating aroma. “I learned a hard lesson on the power of native liquor, however.”

  “Evidently.” Jason chuckled, buttered up a cinnamon scone, and slid it her way. “Eat this. You’ll feel better.”

  For twenty minutes, he drilled her with questions, demanding every detail of the ceremony, the bonfire, and the dance. She recreated karamu, described the foods, the people, and the scenery. Three cups of coffee later, it was an overly disgruntled Jason and a slightly improved Miranda that headed out of the lodge.

  Her punishment continued, however. Jason didn’t stop quizzing her the entire drive to Katanga, only stopping when they pulled into the parking lot and straight into unexpected chaos.

  Jason whistled again, and she winced. “Stop doing that!”

  “Fine, but have you ever seen a tent that big?” he asked.

  She hadn’t. It covered a huge portion of asphalt, and it wasn’t alone. Several tents were in various stages of completion as workers unloaded long rolls of red and white striped canvas from two delivery trucks. Others assembled poles or stacked tables and chairs.

  Katanga employees, including the deceitful Warren Graham, set up orange cones to direct employee traffic to the back, and Jason steered the Jeep that direction.

  “Did you hear about this?” he asked.

  “Not a word.”

  “Man! Something like this requires serious planning.” He found an empty parking spot near the veterinary doors. “How’d they keep it a secret?”

  Miranda had no answer. She just added it to the unsettling knowledge of who undressed her and put her to bed last night.

  They headed toward the clinic doors just as Le
tta emerged with her arms full of fold-up chairs.

  “What’s going on?” Jason asked as he relieved her of the load.

  “Free Day Festival,” Letta replied. Then her eyes grew round. “I forgot to tell you!”

  “You’re forgiven if you tell me where to put these.” Jason hefted the chairs. “And what is Free Day?”

  “A no-charge veterinary care-a-thon,” Letta said as she led the way around the front of the castle. “It’s a community involvement project Katanga sponsors each year. It always draws a crowd, too. There’s free food and games, educational classes, and workshops. My favorite is the petting zoo for kids.”

  She pointed Jason toward the front sidewalk where a mountain of tables and chairs were growing.

  A heady sense of excitement filled the air, a positive energy that worked to lessen Miranda’s headache a notch, giving her hope for recovery. It also revitalized a fresh wave of determination. A commotion like this offered easy cover for illicit trade. Had Matt considered the idea?

  She glanced up at the castle battlements and squared her shoulders. Katanga deserved protection. If Matt couldn’t give it, then she would.

  “When is the big event?” Miranda asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Letta replied. “Those who can’t afford regular vet care bring their animals in for checkups and vaccinations. Cats, dogs, cattle, and sheep—you’ll see a bit of everything. Umm,” she hedged as a guilty expression crossed her face, “I guess I also forgot to mention they expect you both to work…”

  Miranda didn’t hear the rest. Matt had exited the building. At least she thought it was Matt. All she could clearly see were coverall clad legs beneath a load of white posts and miles of white plastic chain. The strange apparition took a quick detour her direction and her suspicion was confirmed.

  Matt walked right past her with a flirty wink and a chipper, “Morning, sweetheart.”

  As she stared at his retreating back, a disconcerting flashback made her frown. An important decision was made last night, she was certain, but nothing coalesced. The maddening suspicion added a pounding heart to work in rhythm with her throbbing head.

  And honestly, couldn’t Katanga find a uniform that fit him? The tight coveralls stretched enticingly across his broad shoulders and revealed the play of muscle as he moved. Even half hidden by the pile he carried, he still looked much too good for her comfort.