years older than she but barely taller, he was attractive in a sophisticated, slightly dissipated way—a world-weary man. She’d misplaced a bag; he found it for her. Over her protests, he tipped her porter. Then he took her arm, and they headed up the path toward the hotel. She stopped for a moment, shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare and took a long look at the building that was their destination.
“So that’s the Stanley Hotel.” It was constructed of old brick, faded and mellow, surrounded by a two-story veranda. Charming from the distance, the building looked more and more rickety as they approached. The paint was peeling, the roof sagged and a tangle of vines displaced the mortar between the bricks.
Louis gave a little chuckle. “Not exactly a four-star establishment, eh?”
She was about to respond when someone else did.
“What the hell would you know about four-star hotels, Louis?”
A tall man had stepped out of the shadow of the palm trees and blocked their path. Millicent was standing beside him, but Dana scarcely noticed. She was lost in the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, cool eyes that met hers with a look of long and thorough appraisal. Dana tried to look away, but it wasn’t possible. Her eyes were locked on his.
She heard Millicent’s voice. “Dana, this is Alex Jourdan. Our host. Alex, meet Dana Baldwin, one of our tour members not yet initiated into the ways of Porte Ivoire.” Millicent gave an amused little twist to her smile.
Dana could feel Alex’s energy reach out to her, and the sultry African sun grew even hotter under his speculative gaze. Dana had to tilt her head to meet Alex’s green eyes; he had to be half a foot taller than her own five feet eight inches. He wore a faded blue T-shirt that molded the muscles of his arms and chest like a second skin. His cutoffs were frayed, his sandals scuffed, but the casual look didn’t hide his animal magnetism.
His full and sensual mouth curved in a half smile. His thick, dark brown hair grazed the neck of his shirt. Dana registered subliminally that he needed a haircut. What he didn’t need was one more ounce of virility. Sensuality simmered in the midday heat.
Dark, handsome, dangerous. Those were the words that came to her mind and wouldn’t go away.
“Bienvenu. Welcome to Porte Ivoire and to the Stanley Hotel,” he said at last in a voice that was deep and husky with a trace of French accent. Only a hint, enough to make it both memorable and sexy as hell. She’d heard a great deal on the boat about women who’d fallen under Alex Jourdan’s spell. Now she understood.
“I hope you enjoy your stay,” he added when she didn’t reply.
Everyone seemed to be waiting for a response. Dana finally managed to include the hotel in her gaze while not quite tearing it away from Alex. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll enjoy every moment.” God, she thought, every moment! Why did she say that?
“The moments could turn to days,” Millicent reminded her. “If that engine doesn’t get repaired.”
Alex didn’t seem to be listening. “How do you like my hotel?”
“It’s very—interesting,” Dana managed to say.
Alex laughed, a deep, rich sound. “I think of the old building as a grand lady past her prime, a little tawdry but with quite a past. A lady with many secrets.” His smile intimated that he might be willing to share those secrets with Dana. “Let me take that for you.” He reached for the bag she had slung over her shoulder.
“That’s all right, I—”
It was too late. His hand was on her arm, insinuating upward and under the strap of the bag, which he slipped off her shoulder. “I’ll get you checked in.”
Louis spoke up. “Ignoring your old ami, eh, Alex? Well, in the company of one so lovely, that is understandable.”
Dana saw Alex’s eyes flicker quickly to Louis and then back to her. “I didn’t expect you to turn up, Bertrand,” he said coolly.
“But you know how much I love the river, and I needed a respite from the heat and crowds of Brazzaville. I had delightful company aboard the steamer. As for this young lady, you will be interested, as I certainly was, to learn that she shares my fascination with the Mgembe. The Pygmies, you know.”
Alex gave Louis a long look and shrugged. “To each his own, Bertrand. And now, ladies...” He bowed slightly. “If you’ll come into the lobby with me. Oh, and you, too, Bertrand,” he added as an afterthought.
“You have one more guest,” Louis reminded him. “Monsieur Longongo is still loading down the porters with his bags. He cannot manage to travel light.”
Alex glanced at the little man just leaving the dock. “Maybe by the time he gets here, all my rooms will be booked.” With that, he slung Dana’s bag over his shoulder and led the way into the hotel.
* * *
DANA opened the door, stepped into her room and into a scene out of an old movie. Crossing on mahogany plank floors, she dropped her bag onto a simple iron bedstead painted white with a bright colored spread. Overhead a slow-moving ceiling fan circulated the humid air.
Admittedly, the flowered wallpaper was peeling a little, the throw rugs faded, the bedspread worn. But that was part of the charm. As Alex had said, the hotel was a little past its prime but still grand.
She closed the door, almost expecting a director to shout, “Cut.” A slight smile spread over her face. If she was acting out a role in an old movie, she was also thinking about the film’s hero, a handsome hotelier with a wicked reputation. She crossed the room and pushed open the French doors to the upper-level veranda. The Congo River lay before her, curving like a huge serpent, slithering into the depths of the tropical rain forest.
Her own private movie was interrupted when Betty Weston stepped onto the veranda next door. “At least the hotel has a nice view,” the redhead said grudgingly.
“All this is new to me,” Dana admitted, “and very exciting.”
Betty faced her, leaning back against the railing. “Yes, you are rather a novice.” Her brown eyes were hard and glittering. “I saw you with him.”
“Him?”
“Alex, of course. I thought you’d heard enough about him on the boat.”
“I try not to listen to gossip,” Dana responded.
Betty snorted with disgust. “You won’t have to worry about gossip if we’re here long enough. You’ll find out for yourself what a cold and ruthless man he is—”
Dana was speechless at the angry words.
“Oh, he’s interested in you,” Betty went on. “He always likes new women, but in the long run, he’s after one of two things. Sex or money. So remember to lock your door—and hide your valuables.”
The knock on Dana’s door was a welcome sound. Without hesitation, she made her apologies to Betty and left the veranda. Millicent was waiting at her door.
“Oh, there you are, dear. I’ve come to take you shopping.”
“But
