Lord of the Grrr's (25 page)

As night approached, signaled by the cry of hyenas somewhere on the reserve, he crept from his office, relieved not to find her in the area of the clinic set up for her patients. The four she had brought with her were resting on cots lined close together against one wall. The mother of the only child in the group was curled uncomfortably on the floor beside her daughter’s cot.

None of the patients stirred as he went through the room, pausing to lock up the clinic. He shook his head at the need, thanks to the soldiers in the area. Before civil war erupted, he wouldn’t have felt unsafe in the place where he had been a vet for ten years.

After securing the clinic for the night, Grant walked down the hallway to the back room, where he kept all the supplies necessary for the health center. A small room off to the left housed the operating theater, but he kept going into the storage area, tiredness catching up with him.

In mid-yawn, he paused as he entered his sleeping area. The sight of Zinsa curled up on a cot just a few feet from his double bed had him tripping over his feet. His mouth hung open, but he couldn’t seem to recover the ability to close it.

She looked up at him, a small smile on her perfect, full lips. “Hello, roomie.”

His eyebrow lifted of its own accord, just as his arms crossed his chest in a challenging way. “What are you doing here?”

She waved a hand to the front. “There’s no more room up front with the patients, especially if more come in. Manu suggested I put a cot back here.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “He didn’t think it was a good idea for me to take a bed in the bunkhouse. It would be too far from my patients.”

Grant barely bit back a snort. He doubted Manu’s concern sprang from the distance she would be from the patients. More likely, he realized Zinsa would be too big a distraction to the workers who slept in the bunkhouse. It should have been heartening to know his friend trusted him around the doctor, but he feared Manu’s trust was misplaced.

A full frown had formed now, creating an irresistible crinkle between her eyes. “Is that a problem?”

With a terse shake of his head, he turned to the bathroom. “No. You just surprised me.” Taking refuge in the bathroom, Grant sought any excuse to flee his bed, but couldn’t think of anything plausible. The last thing he wanted to do was reveal to Zinsa that he planned to steer clear of her, because that would lead to awkward questions. All he could do was bear the situation for however long it lasted. Local news reported the soldiers were close to crippling the uprising, so the war should be over in a matter of weeks. He could survive the ordeal that long. Couldn’t he?

Hurrying through his evening ablutions did little to occupy his thoughts or help him ignore the erection tenting his briefs. He left on his T-shirt and shorts, although he normally slept in the nude. When he could put it off no longer, he opened the door and stepped out of the small bathroom, taking a deep breath. Faux courage carried him to his bed, but deserted him when she spoke.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you, Dr. Hayden. I’m sure you don’t usually sleep in the clothes you wore all day.” After a slight pause, her voice seemed to deepen slightly when she spoke again. “I know I don’t.”

Slowly, he turned his head. He saw the tank top and shorts she had worn minutes before folded neatly on a nearby chair. A light sheet covered her from the breasts down, but everything above was bare. She might or might not be sleeping in panties, but she sure wasn’t wearing anything else. He swallowed, at a loss for words.

What could be just a friendly smile, but seemed deliberately sensuous, crossed her face. “Please be comfortable.”

With jerky movements, he looked away from his new roommate in all her glory, barely hidden by the thin sheet that rested so well against the curves of her body. He

pulled back the sheet and climbed into his bed, curling on his right side, although he never slept in that position. “I’m comfortable.” As he fumbled for the light without turning back to her, he swore a breathy laugh escaped her.

With no patients of his own, Grant found himself recruited to assist Zinsa when she reopened her treatment center in its temporary headquarters the next day. Inside an hour of opening for the day, they had a line extending out the door. With nearly one hundred patients awaiting treatment, he wondered how she’d ever coped on her own.

As Grant prepared a syringe with MMR inoculation for the next child waiting, he glanced over at Zinsa, who was palpating the belly of a grizzled old man with a racking cough. “How do you manage all this on your own?”

She spared him a quick look before returning attention to her patient. “I don’t normally. I had two nurses and a physician’s assistant up until a couple of weeks ago. My PA was the first to leave me, returning home to the States. Then both of my nurses quit within days of each other, terrified of the fighting and deciding they needed to be with their families. They were local women, so I hope they’ll come back once they hear the clinic has reopened in a safer area.” A grin flashed across her mouth. “Until then, I’m lucky to have you, Dr. Hayden.”

“Grant,” he said in a low voice, trying to appear offhand with the invitation. “Grant.” She practically purred his name, conjuring all sorts of illicit images to accompany the breathy repetition. Never before had he liked his name so much as he did right then.

The hours passed quickly, with a multitude of patients streaming in and out of the makeshift clinic. Most required nothing more than simple medication, perhaps a bandage, or just someone to listen, but they ended up with two additional inpatients by the end of the night. In awe, Grant watched Zinsa organize everything, somehow managing to squeeze two more cots into the room.

It was only when they left the clinic to sit outside in the coming twilight, glasses of cold tea in their hands, Grant realized how tired he was. With a groan that was a mix of pain and pleasure, he stretched his kinked back and rotated his neck.

She grinned at him. “You held up like a pro.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” His eyes followed a rivulet of sweat as it streaked down her cleavage, disappearing under her shirt. The sight made his mouth water, and he took a long drink of the tea, hoping to distract himself.

When she leaned back, the new pose emphasized her generous breasts. “I’m not usually going it alone, as I said. There have been times, of course. With a clinic like this, you do the best you can.”

“How did you end up so far away from home, practicing medicine in Mekimba?” A wistful sigh escaped her. “This is my home.”

He nodded. “I know how you feel. I was four when my parents came here. They were assigned here for four years, but when the term ended…they stayed.” They had stayed for him, knowing his new abilities forced him to live somewhere primitive. His control had been even more tenuous as a child and young teenager. It would have caused panic if they had returned to their home in Boston and he had morphed into a tiger running loose through the city. Blinking, Grant realized he had dropped into silence. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else now.”

“Me either, but this really is my home. I was born here.”

He arched a brow. “How did you acquire the English accent?” “My father is from London.”

Grant shook his head. “Amazing. You sound like you grew up there, instead of getting a trace from hearing your father speak.”

Sadness clouded her expression. “I did for most of my childhood. Dad came to Mekimba with one of the first missions of the newly established Médecins Sans Frontières—Doctors Without Borders. He met my mother when she came to him for treatment. He says it was love at first sight for both of them.” Her expression changed, becoming seductive. “I come from a long line of that. Dad claims every member of his family has met their partners and fallen in love in an instant.” She grinned. “He says it can either be a gift or a curse, depending on the circumstances.”

Grant chuckled. “A romantic notion.”

Her brow furrowed. “You don’t believe it?” “Has it happened to you?”

An odd intensity colored her gaze. “Oh yes. Just once.”

“What happened?”

A shrug was her answer before she plunged back into her story. “When the rest of the team left, Dad stayed behind, opened a clinic, married my mother, and I came along within a year.”

“It sounds idyllic.” From her sadness upon beginning her story, he knew it hadn’t stayed that way and had to resist the urge to reach out to offer a comforting hand.

“It probably was.” She set aside the tea she hadn’t drunk from. “I think they were happy here. If Mom hadn’t died in childbirth, along with my baby brother, I’m sure Dad would have stayed in Mekimba forever.”

“I’m sorry.”

Zinsa nodded. “I don’t remember her, but thanks. Anyway, Dad took me to London within three months, and that’s where I grew up. He fed me stories of his time here from the time I can remember.” She waved a hand at the expanse of veld that began just a few yards from the complex of building. “I grew up thinking this was as close to Paradise as I would find on Earth, so it was only natural for me to come here after I finally became a doctor. I opened the clinic, and the rest is history.”

Unable to resist, Grant put his hand over hers. “Has it been everything you hoped for?”

“Mostly.” She turned her head, meeting his eyes directly. “What has been missing seems like it might have been found.”

The words were cryptic, and Grant had the strangest feeling she was talking about him. He dismissed the idea with a shake of his head, knowing wishful thinking when he heard it…or thought it.

Suddenly, Zinsa was on her feet, pulling on his hand until he rose from the steps to stand beside her. “Let’s walk.”

He shook his head, his stiff neck protesting at the motion. “I’m too sore and tired.”

With a lighthearted laugh, she dragged him down the steps. “It will make you feel better. Trust me. After a long day of repetitious motion, there’s nothing better than a walk in the twilight. You’ll stretch your muscles.”

He allowed himself to be dragged forward, more because she hadn’t relinquished his hand than because he really thought a walk would help his tight muscles. His stomach clenched when she settled into step beside him, keeping his hand in hers.

They wandered without a particular destination, just moving from the clearing where the buildings were into the veld. An occasional acacia tree in their path forced them to detour, but the dry grass didn’t reach a high enough level to be more than an inconvenience, even though they both wore sandals.

The companionable silence between them felt natural, and he had no need to break it. Instead, Grant let his senses focus on Zinsa—on the levelness of her breathing, which was slowly increasing in rapidity, on the scent of her body, tinged mildly with female arousal, if he wasn’t mistaken, and on the sound of her sandals forging a path through the grass, each of her steps in rhythm with his.

Before he knew it, they had gone quite a distance. When he turned to look behind them, the headquarters of the preserve was a distant blur, the buildings barely discernable. He offered no protest when Zinsa sat on a large rock, breaking the physical connection between them for the first time in probably twenty minutes. Longing for it again, he edged in beside her, his heart racing when his legs touched hers.

Now seemed like the time to talk, but before he could speak, she asked, “How did you end up here?”

“My parents were aid workers—”

Zinsa shook her head. “I meant here at the Natunde Preserve, working as a vet? I’m sure you could have done other things. Modeling, for instance.”

“Oh.” A flush tinged his face, and he hoped the darkening sky hid it. It was ridiculous to be embarrassed by her casual comment. “I don’t think so. I’m more suited to be a vet. I went to university in Mawunyaga, but found the capitol too crowded for my tastes.” Those had been tense years, living in constant fear of losing control. Considering those should have been the most sex-laden years of his life, he had failed miserably, managing to get laid only twice, and not caring overly much for his partner either time. Deep affection was a luxury he couldn’t afford, lest he risk revealing his secret. Since it had left him feeling dirty to not have an emotional attachment with his bed partners, he had opted for a life of near-celibacy. “After I graduated, I looked for a quiet place to work and found the reserve.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “You’ll never leave Mekimba then?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember a thing about Boston, and I have no desire to see it. My parents are still here, living in a village a couple of days away. Everything I know is here.”

Zinsa leaned closer, licking her full lips. “Everything you want, too?” Somehow, he managed to swallow. “Er, yes.”

A grin blossomed, displaying the perfection of her teeth. “Good. I know I’ll live here the rest of my life.” She placed her hand flat on his chest for a brief second, before lifting her palm and trailing her fingers down his buttons. “This could work.”

“What could?” His voice emerged as a rasp, affected as he was by nerves.

Her hand moved upward in a flash, and she tapped him lightly on the side of the nose with her forefinger. “Don’t be dense.”

Grant searched for a way to withdraw, to let her down easy, but discovered he didn’t want to. Even knowing he had to, didn’t help him resist when she tilted her chin up, cupped the back of his head to force his face down, and touched her lips against his.

The kiss was soft and undemanding, with Zinsa offering, not taking. He couldn’t withstand the dewy sweetness of her soft lips, the sweet tang of her musky femininity, or the cautious dart of her tongue across his mouth before it disappeared inside hers again. His hands settled on her shoulders of their own accord and he pulled her as close as he could without displacing both of them from the rock.

Desire swept through him, causing his pulse to pound in his ears. His heart raced, and his cock throbbed, straining to escape the prison of his khaki shorts. Grant curled his hands tighter around her shoulders, struggling to maintain control. She whimpered at the pressure and he immediately let go, trying to pull away. Zinsa’s hand on his head turned to a steel vise, trapping him, refusing to release him.

Her tongue pushed between his lips, changing from coaxing to demanding, letting him know she wanted everything. Grant’s stomach clenched with dread, knowing he couldn’t give it to her. He should break the kiss and leave her before things got out of control. Already he could feel the need rising, his control slipping, as her tongue stroked his, exploring the depths of his mouth.

The first drops of rain saved him from losing control completely. They fell from the sky like large teardrops, striking their faces and heads. With surprise, Grant jerked away, looking up just in time to see forked lightning split the sky. Within seconds, the rain became a deluge. He cursed. “It isn’t even the rainy season.”

Zinsa bounded to her feet, extending her arms. A delighted laugh escaped her. “I know. That makes it even better.”

He frowned. “You’re enjoying this?”

“I love the rain, and when it comes down like this…” She shivered, but apparently with delight, not cold.

Grant got to his feet, taking one of her extended hands. “Come on. We’re getting soaked.”

“A little rain never hurt anyone.”

She didn’t resist when he drew her forward at a rapid pace, his familiarity with the area guiding him more than his sight in the heavy rain. “This isn’t a little rain.”

“Spoilsport.” She had to yell the word to project over another crash of jagged lightning. Silence was more convenient as they broke into a jog, Grant cursing having come so far without thought.

It was a relief to see the clinic come into sight a few minutes later. He was so wet his clothes clung to him like a second skin and his sandals slid around on his feet. The leather was probably ruined, but that was the least of his worries at the moment.

He rushed up the stairs to open the door to the clinic, pausing to look back when he realized Zinsa wasn’t behind him. At the sight of her twirling around in a circle in the heavy rain, he shook his head. “Zinsa,” he shouted, getting her to look up. She flashed him a disgruntled look, but came out of the rain, walking up the steps to join him. “You’re crazy.”

She shook her head. “Just spontaneous.”

“Spontaneity can be dangerous,” he said in a brooding voice as he followed her into the clinic, locking the door behind them. They crept quietly past the area where the patients rested before she responded.

Zinsa gave him a half-shrug, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I suppose, but life would be pretty boring if you followed a rigid set of rules all the time.”

Making a noncommittal sound, he walked toward the back room, conscious of her just inches ahead, just within touching distance. His enhanced sense of smell clued him in to her excitement, making it doubly hard to resist the thoughts circulating in his brain.

In the bedroom, Grant stepped aside, gesturing toward the bathroom. “You first.” When he flicked on the lamp, her breasts drew his gaze, the nut-brown areoles and nickel-size nipples plainly visible through the cotton. He jerked his gaze away, a blush heating his cheeks.

With a laugh, Zinsa peeled off her tank top. It had become virtually transparent in the rain, but had provided a modicum of modesty. Free of the shirt, standing with her breasts bared, she paused in the process of unfastening her shorts. “Don’t just stand there, Grant. You need to get out of those wet clothes. By the time you wait for me to shower, you could get ill.”