answer to a question, “but I have seen the Pygmy only a few times. And never has one member of the Mgembe tribe been converted to Catholicism.” His dark eyes glowed sadly. “It would gladden my heart if such would happen, but—” He shrugged his thin shoulders.
“Maybe someday,” Dana said.
Millicent spoke up. “I’m appalled that the Mgembe still hunt elephant, which is an endangered species. Everyone knows that.”
Conveniently, Millicent had switched from Pygmies to elephants, almost as if she’d been guided by Dana. “Is that true?” Dana asked. “Do they still hunt?”
“Elephants are protected,” the priest said, “but the Pygmies obey no rules except their own. Who knows what they do, hidden away in the rain forest.”
Alex suddenly leaned forward, his gaze on Dana. For an instant she thought there was suspicion in his eyes. Or was it just curiosity, like her own? “Why are you so interested in the Pygmies?” he asked. “Most of the world has never heard of the Mgembe.”
“I inherited my interest from my father, Phillip Baldwin. He was in the Congo years ago and began a study that I would like to complete. If only I could get to the Pygmies...”
“Not much chance of that,” Alex said dismissively. But if he paid little attention to her goals, he paid plenty to her, surveying her with his potent gaze.
“It’s true that not many people know about the Mgembe,” Dana agreed. “Except for Monsieur Bertrand.” She smiled at Louis, who was pouring himself another glass of wine.
“Louis is a wonder, isn’t he?” Alex commented. “So eager to share his knowledge, especially if the questioner is young and pretty.”
Dana felt herself flush, and to cover, she turned on Alex. “Louis was only being polite by answering my questions.”
Millicent, who’d watched the byplay speculatively, directed her remark to Alex. “You and Louis used to be such good friends, I hate to see you on the outs.”
Louis rose from his chair. “Alex is not an easy man for one to remain friends with, madame. If you will excuse me...” Wineglass in hand, he headed for the veranda.
“I’ll see after him,” Father Theroux offered.
“Coffee?” Alex asked the women without skipping a beat, as if nothing had happened. “Perhaps in the garden...”
Millicent spoke for both of them. “That would be delightful. And a little cognac, too, Alex, dear.”
But Millicent didn’t make it to the garden. Mr. Longongo cornered her, and as Dana passed by his table, she heard a snatch of his long, involved questions about a partial refund of his tour fee since the boat had broken down. He reminded Dana of a ferret with sharp little features and darting black eyes. There was something creepy about the man, she decided as she drifted into the garden alone.
The air was sweet with the fragrance of jungle flowers and, as always, the dark mysterious scent of the mighty Congo. Dana wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath, throwing back her head, breathing the rich, heady scent of the jungle air. The moon rode low in the sky, huge, round, so close she felt she could touch it. Despite the delays and problems, the petty arguments of the others, she felt wonderful.
She was in Africa! A stone’s throw from the Congo, and even if she never saw her first Pygmy, this was already the adventure of her life. She closed her eyes and inhaled pure excitement.
She didn’t hear the footsteps approaching on the sandy path, and when a hand touched her shoulder, Dana jumped, startled. “Don’t be afraid,” a voice told her, in a tone so soft and low that it heightened her fear rather than dispelling it. She started to move away, toward the hotel, and then she recognized him.
The vague shadowy figure in the moonlight was Alex. “I decided to skip the coffee,” he told her. “My cognac is excellent. French. A hundred years old and saved for special guests.” He handed her a glass.
“Thanks.” For an instant his long fingers curled around hers. He was so near that she could smell the scent of his tangy after-shave and hear the even flow of his breathing. There was something dark and compelling about him that made her nervous even as it attracted her. She didn’t know how to behave around him, and she certainly had no idea what he would do next.
She took a step away from him and raised the glass to her lips. A warm glow began in the pit of her stomach and spread upward, but she couldn’t relax. Not when Alex was still too damn close to her, not when her heart refused to slow down.
She wanted him to move away. The blatant sexuality that emanated from him made her uncomfortable. He seemed so damned sure of himself, as if she was his for the asking, as if she’d arranged a romantic rendezvous in the garden especially for him. To cover her nervousness, she took another sip from her glass.
“Like it?” His voice was as smooth and rich as the cognac, and she was afraid that it could have the same power over her.
“Yes, it’s wonderful. But now—” She handed Alex the glass and attempted to step around him.
Holding her with his his eyes, he let both glasses slip from his grasp and drop onto the sandy path. She looked down at them, startled. Then he encircled her waist with his hands and pulled her close. “You’re not running away from me, are you, Dana?” The strength that she’d feared in his voice had become a power of intimacy—and danger.
“No, of course not,” she lied. “I just want to get away from, I mean get out of, the night air. It’s...” Her voice trailed off and she realized she didn’t want to get away at all, not when she saw Alex so clearly in the moonlight, his lips parted in a smile to reveal even white teeth that gleamed against his tanned skin. Hungry light glowed deep in his green eyes. Dana shivered, and she didn’t know why. Was it excitement—or fear?
He still held her, easily now, with one hand lingering on her waist, the other at the small of her back. The warmth from his body reached out and caressed her. She felt an urge to touch his face, run her fingers across his cheek and chin. But she willed her hands to stay at her sides. Alex Jourdan was trouble.
He looked at her with a knowing, intimate smile as if he’d read her thoughts. “I’ve been waiting for you, Dana.” His breath was warm against her face.
“What do you mean by waiting?” Her voice sounded breathy, surprised, not like her at all. And her heart—why couldn’t she control its erratic pounding?
“Waiting for a long-legged blonde to come into my life. Now you’re here, and I’m glad.”
He slid his hand from her waist upward along her back, beneath the fabric of her blouse. His touch was sensual, practiced, erotic. And her skin tingled wherever he touched her.
Alarm bells went off inside Dana’s head even while her body responded. Alex Jourdan was handsome and exciting, and there was a part of her that wanted to know him, that desired to be swept away by his dark, romantic power.
But the other side of her was more careful, even wary. He was a man with a disreputable past, a womanizer and, according to the gossip, a probable cheat if not a possible crook. He was certainly a stranger, not someone to be alone with in the dark night.
Dana struggled to get
