dressed up in a tiny party sari, a bright, shimmering affair shot with gold. Kohl circled her large eyes, blusher faintly colored her cheeks and lipstick brightened her lips. She looked like a delicate costume doll, perfect, beautiful—except for the expression in her dark eyes, which were full of very unladylike mischief.
Shanna had no idea why the little girl was at a grown-up party, but there she was, pretty as an exotic butterfly, fluttering among the adults, cooking up something naughty.
Shanna looked back at Rand, feeling a softening inside her, a strange, ephemeral feeling of elation. And then he met her eyes and his face hardened and all the amusement and warmth vanished from his eyes.
Her stomach lurched and she clenched her hands around her glass and turned away, giving her attention again to the Kenyan woman by her side, a doctor working in a maternity clinic.
Sometime later she found Nick standing next to her. “You’re not working, by any chance, are you?” he whispered in her ear.
She laughed and hooked her arm through his. “I’m just talking, enjoying myself.”
He grinned down at her. “You don’t fool me.”
“Women everywhere like talking about their lives, Nick. All I do is listen.” She laughed and then her eyes caught Rand’s cold gaze directed at her and her laughter froze. She let go of Nick’s arm and took a drink from her glass.
“My, that Rand is a cold one,” she said to Nick, and she saw him frown.
“He never was one of the world’s great extroverts, but I have to admit I seem to remember him as more congenial.” Nick shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I saw him last.” He studied her with a sudden gleam in his eyes. “Why don’t you warm him up a little, Shanna? You’re good at loosening people up. Give him some of that irresistible charm of yours.”
She grimaced. “I tried. He’s immune.”
“He keeps looking at you, I’ve noticed.”
“Oh, really? You must be imagining it,” she said lightly. But he hadn’t, and she knew it.
She was standing at the buffet table surveying the food when Rand appeared next to her.
“You’re quite the party girl, aren’t you?” he asked, an unmistakable hint of mockery in his voice.
For a moment she just stared at him. Since when was it a sin to be gregarious and happy, to enjoy being with people? Since when did that make you automatically a shallow or frivolous person? Well, apparently in his mind it did.
She resisted the urge to say something sharp in return. He wasn’t going to goad her, she was determined. Instead, she gave him a cheery smile.
“I’m enjoying myself. That’s all right, isn’t it? I mean, there isn’t something wrong with having fun, is there?”
His mouth twisted and he reached for some of the food and placed it on his plate without answering her.
She tilted her head and made a show of observing him. “You don’t look like you’re having any fun. You ought to work on it a little, you know. Live dangerously. Smile a little. You might just like it.” She couldn’t help taunting him; his arrogant attitude was bringing out the worst in her.
He gave her a stony stare. “I didn’t come here to have fun.”
“That’s a shame,” she said, pseudo-sympathetic. “So, why are you here, then?”
“Business.”
“Oh, I see. Is that why you look so grim? Business is not fun? You don’t enjoy your work?”
There was a silence as he observed her with wintry eyes. “Not everything in life is fun. But if fun is what drives you, let me assure you that I have none to offer you.”
Shanna had had little experience being treated with disdain. Hot indignation welled up inside her. The man was offensive, insufferable and infuriating. It was tempting to tell him so, but presenting him with her opinion of him would only give him satisfaction, she was sure. She managed, with admirable control, to keep her cool and not show him the anger heating her blood. Instead, she nodded solemnly at his statement.
“I figured that one out all by myself,” she said calmly. “You’re no fun at all.” She sighed theatrically, she couldn’t help herself. “I’m afraid you’re a lost cause.”
“Oh,” he said lazily, “perhaps it depends on whose cause. Not all men are fooled by beauty and charm.”
His meaning was clear. She had beauty and charm, but he wasn’t fooled by her. The man was an ego maniac. Her stunned mind grasped wildly for an apt reply, failing miserably.
Rand picked up his plate, offering her a contemptuous look. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
He strode off, leaving her speechless and seething.
CHAPTER TWO
THREE days later, sitting on a rock in the bush, peering through her binoculars, Shanna was still seething.
She’d been trying very hard not to think about Rand Caldwell. It was not easy. Fortunately, baboons proved a great distraction, infinitely more amusing than the hermit man with the cold eyes. She focused the binoculars on the cliffs in the near distance, zeroing in on a tiny baby baboon clinging to its mother’s back, holding on for dear life as she leaped around with the rest of the troop, foraging for food. They were yanking out grasses, digging up roots, peeling fruits. Shanna could not believe she was here, by the cliffs near Kanguli, watching the baboons, as if she had never left.
She had found the village with its thatch-roofed mud huts, found the old house where she’d lived for four years, a dilapidated colonial settlers’ house abandoned by its English owners at Independence decades before. She’d seen a line of washing—jeans and T-shirts and brightly colored Jockey undershorts with some intriguing designs. A man lived in the house now, a male with a sense of humor, a Peace Corps or VSO volunteer probably, but no one had been at home yesterday, or today.
And she’d found the baboons. She did not recognize any of the animals, but of course she would not. Too much time had passed. The old ones had died, young ones grown up and new ones born. Also, it might not be the same troop. She ached to come closer, but she knew well enough it was out of the question. They did not know her and it was dangerous.
She was so entranced in watching the baboons’ activities, that the sound of a car engine startled her. A Land Rover came bumping over the uneven terrain toward the rocks where she was sitting. She trained the binoculars on the dirt-covered vehicle and saw Rand behind the steering wheel. Her heart turned over and she lowered the binoculars in her lap.
Rand? What was he doing here?
If fun is what drives you, may I assure you that I have none to offer you. His words flashed through her mind, the outrageous insinuation flooding her with new indignation. Her stomach clenched. Why was he here now, disturbing her peace? Sucking in a fortifying breath, she braced herself.
The vehicle came to a stop and Rand leaped out. He wore khaki shorts, a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a battered bush hat. He came
