continuously, much closer now. A sudden breeze lifted, delightful in its coolness. She took off her hat and let the fresh wind lift her hair. The sky was darkening dramatically.
Then the darkness was split by great sheets of lightning, brightening the dim jungle with dazzling white. The wind died and a great calm settled on them. The hot, still air was heavy with the decaying odors of the thick vegetation that loomed on the bank.
"Here it comes," Ben said. He turned and took her arm, holding her steady as the boat began to surge beneath their feet. "Get under the roof."
A huge blast of wind pressed against the boat, and the temperature plummeted. Even sheltered behind the tarps, Jillian began to shiver. The cove was much calmer than the open river, but even so, the water was churning and lifting under the boat, whipped by the wind. A few heavy raindrops pounded against the roof like hammers; then the deluge hit. There was no talking; the effort would have been useless in that din, as overwhelming as if they had been inside a huge drum.
Everyone seemed to take the storm as a matter of course, having been through similiar ones more times than they could count. Pepe, the Indian, squatted in a corner and calmly waited. The Brazilians found comfortable niches and settled back to smoke. Ben sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against the solid heat of his big body.
She started to pull away, but his arm tightened and she looked up to protest. He was looking down at her, his blue eyes steady, warning her to sit still. In a split second, she realized that the others had noted his action. Ben had marked her as his woman. She might not agree, but she was realistic enough to see that, considering the prevalent macho attitudes, he had just given her a measure of protection.
So she sat there, letting her weight rest against him, letting his heat protect her from the chill, and against her will she was swamped by primitive female satisfaction. Women had felt the same way thousands of years before, sitting in firelit caves and leaning against their rock-hard, muscled mates, men who used their strength to keep their families fed, to guard them, to stand between them and danger. Her field might be archaeology rather than anthropology, but she was well aware of the seductiveness of his strength. A few hundred years of civilization couldn't override instincts developed over years that numbered in the millennia.
In a flash she saw how easy it was for the dominant male in a group to have his pick of the females. His very dominance made him their prime choice. Ben was definitely the dominant male in this little group, and she was the only female. He had been right to warn her about being the lone woman on an expedition, an uneasy situation he had instinctively recognized, while she had let her advanced education and life-style blind her to the basic nature of life.
It would take some very fancy footwork on her part to keep him out of her tent, because everything about the situation would work to force them together. He seemed certain she wouldn't be able to long resist giving in to him, and she had to admit he probably had the upper hand in this old battle. She had to fight him as well as herself and her own sexual instincts that had been stirred to life. Physically she was strongly attracted to him; mentally she didn't want to have an affair, didn't want to become involved in messy emotional tangles. She was strong and whole as she was. An affair would be too much trouble.
Not only that, his self-assurance ticked her off. He was so certain that he was eventually going to wear down her resistance and tempt her into having sex with him that he didn't even try to hide it. His confidence showed itself in every cocky, heart-stopping grin, in the wicked gleam in those deep blue eyes. He was challenged by her resistance, but she was equally challenged by his assurance, and her female pride had immediately
Then the darkness was split by great sheets of lightning, brightening the dim jungle with dazzling white. The wind died and a great calm settled on them. The hot, still air was heavy with the decaying odors of the thick vegetation that loomed on the bank.
"Here it comes," Ben said. He turned and took her arm, holding her steady as the boat began to surge beneath their feet. "Get under the roof."
A huge blast of wind pressed against the boat, and the temperature plummeted. Even sheltered behind the tarps, Jillian began to shiver. The cove was much calmer than the open river, but even so, the water was churning and lifting under the boat, whipped by the wind. A few heavy raindrops pounded against the roof like hammers; then the deluge hit. There was no talking; the effort would have been useless in that din, as overwhelming as if they had been inside a huge drum.
Everyone seemed to take the storm as a matter of course, having been through similiar ones more times than they could count. Pepe, the Indian, squatted in a corner and calmly waited. The Brazilians found comfortable niches and settled back to smoke. Ben sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against the solid heat of his big body.
She started to pull away, but his arm tightened and she looked up to protest. He was looking down at her, his blue eyes steady, warning her to sit still. In a split second, she realized that the others had noted his action. Ben had marked her as his woman. She might not agree, but she was realistic enough to see that, considering the prevalent macho attitudes, he had just given her a measure of protection.
So she sat there, letting her weight rest against him, letting his heat protect her from the chill, and against her will she was swamped by primitive female satisfaction. Women had felt the same way thousands of years before, sitting in firelit caves and leaning against their rock-hard, muscled mates, men who used their strength to keep their families fed, to guard them, to stand between them and danger. Her field might be archaeology rather than anthropology, but she was well aware of the seductiveness of his strength. A few hundred years of civilization couldn't override instincts developed over years that numbered in the millennia.
In a flash she saw how easy it was for the dominant male in a group to have his pick of the females. His very dominance made him their prime choice. Ben was definitely the dominant male in this little group, and she was the only female. He had been right to warn her about being the lone woman on an expedition, an uneasy situation he had instinctively recognized, while she had let her advanced education and life-style blind her to the basic nature of life.
It would take some very fancy footwork on her part to keep him out of her tent, because everything about the situation would work to force them together. He seemed certain she wouldn't be able to long resist giving in to him, and she had to admit he probably had the upper hand in this old battle. She had to fight him as well as herself and her own sexual instincts that had been stirred to life. Physically she was strongly attracted to him; mentally she didn't want to have an affair, didn't want to become involved in messy emotional tangles. She was strong and whole as she was. An affair would be too much trouble.
Not only that, his self-assurance ticked her off. He was so certain that he was eventually going to wear down her resistance and tempt her into having sex with him that he didn't even try to hide it. His confidence showed itself in every cocky, heart-stopping grin, in the wicked gleam in those deep blue eyes. He was challenged by her resistance, but she was equally challenged by his assurance, and her female pride had immediately
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