A Stirring from Salem (15 page)

Minibars had always been Scarlett’s friends, and the fully stocked fridge in the bedroom of her suite was no exception.

The morning had been grueling, not only physically but also emotionally. The debacle at the watering hole had turned the entire shoot into upheaval. They had originally scheduled three days at Londolani and then had planned to go to Cape Point at the tip of the country, another dazzling location with enormous sea cliffs above the battering ocean. Then on to one of the clubs in Cape Town, followed by two days in the red sands of the Serengeti. But because of Brigitta’s accident, everyone agreed that, for safety’s sake, she should sit out the rest of the day and get some much-needed bed rest.

Rather than lose an entire morning of shooting, Charley suggested they could do what was known as guerilla shooting with Vince’s second unit. The method, which was basically driving aimlessly until finding a spot that instilled inspiration, had succeeded wildly for Vince in his early days as a photographer.

Vince thought it was inspired thinking.

Charley was the golden girl once again.

And Scarlett would have none of it. She’d rather be shooting with real gorillas than be anywhere near Charley.

At that point, Vince would rather have had Scarlett anywhere but near them. So, when Brigitta was driven back to the game farm after her bruises were tended to, Scarlett went with her.

And there, in the privacy of her room, feeling a mixture of guilt and frustration, Scarlett got very friendly with her “mini-friends.” Orange juice and vodka, cranberry juice and rum, tequila and ginger ale.

Yum, yum, and yum.

By 10:00 a.m. she was sloshed. She tried to sleep but couldn’t. Between jet lag, lack of sleep, the experience at the watering hole, and too much alcohol, she was restless. So, she got up and poured herself another drink.

Maybe some fresh air will help.

Dressed in nothing but lightweight shorts and a cropped tank, Scarlett went out on the large wooden deck and looked out across the beautiful, peaceful terrain.

Looks like Santa Barbara, she thought. Someday I’ll retire there with some handsome billionaire.

Taking a long deep breath, she started to cough. The heat and the alcohol were not a good mix.

The spa would be nice, she thought. A hot stone massage or a lymphatic drain. Maybe a facial! Damn, where is the spa?

Against all warnings, she took off to find it by herself.

The elevated wooden paths back to the lapa and the spa wound through the grounds, and Scarlett sipped on her gin and lemonade as she strolled them.

Down to the last of the glass, she saw two ice cubes stuck to the side and was determined to get them. She’d always loved to suck on ice and let it roll around in her mouth while it dissolved. It was a sensuous move that she used often on her sexual conquests.

Tipping her head back and tapping the fine cut-glass tumbler, Scarlett lost her balance and fell off the pathway. She landed face first in a puddle of slimy mud. She lay there a moment and then sat up. She was a mess. But instead of being furious, all Scarlett could do was laugh.

At least I didn’t knock myself out, she thought.

Extricating herself from the slime, she looked around to see where she was.

Doesn’t look so friggin’ dangerous to me, she thought as she glanced around the area. Getting her bearings, she realized she could easily take a short cut across grassy paths to her salvation. That way, no one on the well-trodden path would see her covered in goo.

She carefully made her way through the foliage past the next private suite, all the while keeping out a keen eye for creatures.

Then she smelled something. An odor she knew well. Turning to look in the direction of the aroma, she spotted someone smoking a joint on the deck of the Xings’ suite.

Never fearful, Scarlett made her way toward the pungent smell. The sound of her footsteps was masked by the sounds of small animals scurrying nearby.

“Do not kill a calf again, or we will have to sever our ties!”

Scarlett stopped dead in her tracks.

“It’s never happened before and it will never happen again, I promise you.”

Scarlett recognized the Afrikaans accent and the voice.
Cornelius.

“The small horn is less than two pounds,” Jiao-jie scolded. “You realize how much money you threw away by slaughtering that animal?”

“With an average horn weighing eight to ten—” he started.

“Close to a million dollars on the black market!” Jiao-jie snapped.

Scarlett dropped her glass in shock.

Cornelius turned to see her. While she was less than five feet away from the deck, no one else could see her. Before he could react, she put her hands to her lips, warning him to be quiet.

Something told him he should do it.

“We leave tomorrow,” Jiao-jie said as she ended her diatribe. “Forty-thousand U.S. cash if you can deliver by takeoff.”

Scarlett was not only drunk and covered in mud, but she was also dumbstruck.

“We have a car waiting now, so go,” Jiao-jie said as she dismissed Cornelius with a wave of her hand.

He jumped down from the deck and moved toward the supermodel as they both heard Jiao-jie and Wen leave with their escort.

It seemed like an eternity before either of them spoke. Scarlett went first.

“Nice per-formance last night,” she slurred. “Rhino poach-ing a bad, bad thing.”

“You all seemed to buy my little speech,” he countered as he noticed how wobbly she was. “And now you’ve heard how profitable it can be,” he said, indicating the deck. “The Xings have made millions. And rhino? So what if they disappear?”

Scarlett’s mind was muddled. She was terrified of the danger she’d stumbled into and desperate to find a way out.

“Then you’d be out of a job…” she smiled lazily.

Cornelius wasn’t sure what to make of her.

“You’re lucky Wen didn’t see you, you know,” Cornelius stated.

“And you’re lucky you did,” she smiled lazily.

“I could make you disappear faster than a hit off that joint,” he reminded her.

“You wouldn’t,” she responded. She was terrified of his threat, but she knew she couldn’t show any fear if she was going to get out of this. “Not when I can make you even more money.”

“I’m listening…” he said.

“Rhin-o horn,” she answered. “Who needs a middleman? Every supermodel in the world still wants it. I can get them to buy from us direct.”

“Us.”

“Us,” she said confidently. “I’m the one with the connections.”

Cornelius was impressed. This girl was not only hot, but she had nerve.

“You’re smarter than you look, Ms. O’Hara,” he chuckled. “Especially right now.” He pointed at her mud-streaked face.

“Not the time to be funny, Mr.—”

“Bekker.”

“Mr. Bekker.” Scarlett was sobering up fast. “Do we have a deal?”

Cornelius studied her for a long moment.

“You’re the perfect package, aren’t you?”

“Some say. Deal?” she repeated firmly.

“Deal.”

Scarlett put out her hand and Cornelius grabbed it firmly. Then he yanked her close and hungrily kissed the one clean and exposed side of her long neck.

“I’ll watch you, now go!” he ordered. “I’ll contact you,” he said before releasing her.

Scarlett nodded quickly and then headed in the direction of the spa. From the look on his face, it was clear she needed a spa now more than ever.

Stretching out between gnarled jackalberry and Acacia thorn trees, the spa at Londolani was created to encapsulate all the African experience has to offer. With the majestic sky as its ceiling and built around a courtyard with traditional African touches, the spa was as popular with some visitors as the magnificence of the bush.

John had opted to stay at the game farm after breakfast while Marlena traveled with Patch and Kayla to their volunteer project in Rooiboklaagte.

His rehabilitation had been complete for less than a year, and John was determined to stay in the best shape of his life. Not only for himself, but also for Marlena and the rest of his family. He owed them that.

John spent the morning in the state-of-the-art gym, adhering to the strict routine he’d followed since he’d passed his ISA endurance tests less than a year earlier. Then he took a vigorous swim in the 25-meter pool while he waited for a therapeutic massage by one of the finest internationally qualified therapists in the world.

John had just completed his twentieth lap when he noticed Scarlett entering through the Indian teakwood doors.

At least he thought the woman was Scarlett. She had that flowing red hair, but she was covered in mud.

Scarlett gasped when she saw John. She had expected the spa to be empty.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” John said as he picked up his towel from the chaise lounge nearby. “Or did you run into some ferocious creature?”

“I did.” She nodded as she thought of Cornelius and his threat.

“What was it?”

Scarlett had a choice to make. She could spill everything to John or keep her full, pouty lips shut. She opted for the latter.

“I—don’t know,” she stammered. “It all happened so fast.”

She wouldn’t make eye contact with him. And if John had learned one thing in his training in the International Security Alliance, it was to recognize the signs of a liar.

“Let’s get you cleaned up here,” John said masterfully. Protecting a woman in need was woven into his DNA, and this was no exception.

The spa had a number of outdoor showers close by, so John strode to one and turned on the water. Scarlett stood under the cleansing flow as John removed the gooseneck showerhead and directed it over her body. The water washed away the grime from her hair, her face, and her shorts while the tank top clung to her breasts. John couldn’t help but notice.

Scarlett looked up at John, and his blue eyes were inviting. Though John did not initiate or even invite it, she kissed him. Thoroughly.

Neither of them saw that Charley had just entered the spa.

Charley was horrified when she saw them. She ducked out of sight, nearly knocking over Tuma, who was behind her, before she saw John pull away.

Was he kissing her? she asked herself, trying to shake the image out of her head. Is he as bad a womanizer as Richie was? she wondered as she tried to catch her breath. She leaned against the back of the teak doorjamb.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” Tuma asked. “Do you need to sit down?”

“I’m just a little faint, Tuma,” she said, trying to cover her shock.

“Let’s get you something to eat, then.” He smiled warmly.

She nodded weakly as he led her toward the dining room.

Her mind was whirling.
Is that happy family in the album really a lie?

Abby nestled in Jackson’s arms as they lay between the luxurious sheets in his massive bed. The morning light of London filtered through the bedroom window.

Abby had a contented smile on her face. Jackson just stared at the ceiling.

His mind had been whirling since Chance had given him the news at Mahiki. Unless there was a miracle, he’d lose his sanctuary within a month.

The alarm went off. Abby shifted her weight as her eyes slowly opened. Her fingers ran across Jackson’s inviting lips.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He looked at her and half smiled. She was truly beautiful when she woke up, one of those girls who didn’t need makeup. He’d had plenty of the others over the years and had been shocked plenty of times, come the light of day.

“Thanks for last night,” he said.

“My honor,” she replied.

Jackson was starting to appreciate her more than ever. Abby was a wonderful lover. She’d become one unexpectedly through her work. Her gossip site was always rife with indiscretions, divorces, and turmoil. So in true journalistic fashion, she had investigated everything she could about sex and relationships. Everything from studying the art of the geisha to reading
The New Joy of Sex
had turned Abby into a master. Now Jackson was reaping those benefits.

“’Morning, lover,” Jackson said.

She sensed something in his tone, but she didn’t want to ask. In fact she was afraid to, considering her growing insecurities about Scarlett.

“Coffee or cappuccino?”

“Coffee,” he answered. “With—”

“Two sugars, I know,” Abby said, smiling. “And fresh orange juice.”

Jackson smiled. She seemed to know his every like and dislike, and she doted on him without smothering him. He knew this had to be hard for her, but she still seemed determined to make it work. Why? Maybe she truly loved him.

Abby slid out of bed and pulled Jackson’s silk pajama top over her naked body. He appreciated the fact that she had so little pretense. As she headed out, she flipped her long, blonde waves to keep them from getting caught under the collar. It was a sensuous move, and she looked back as she exited.

But Jackson hadn’t seen her. His mind was already elsewhere.

***

Abby was pouring Jackson’s coffee into a fine porcelain mug as he walked into the kitchen. He was wearing the matching pajama bottoms, and she smiled.

“You didn’t have to get dressed for me,” she said playfully as she took two cubes of raw sugar from the canister on the counter and plopped them into Jackson’s mug. “I like naked.”

“Me, too,” he responded, trying to match her mood.

“And, while I love my soon-to-be sister-in-law, I have to admit I love having this place to ourselves more right now. Sex in any room without having to worry is quite liberating.”

“As if you need liberating,” Jackson answered, chuckling.

“At last.”

“What?”

“I thought I saw a smile.”

“Oh,” he sighed deeply.

“Don’t go serious on me this morning, Sugar,” she begged.

“’Fraid I have to. Abby, we have to talk.”

“We talk all the time,” she answered, trying to lighten the moment.

“I’m serious.”

“I’m warning you…” she said with a lilt in her voice.

The last thing Jackson wanted was this discussion, and that showed on his face.

“I don’t know how else to say this—”

“Then don’t—”

“But I have to have the ring back.”

Abby’s stomach caved in as if she’d been punched.

“I am so sorry…” he said as he reached out to her.

But at that moment, everything else in the world stopped for her. The deep, rapid thumping of her heart drowned out the rest of the words coming out of Jackson’s mouth. If she could have listened, she’d have heard him explain the real reason he needed the ring back, and that he truly loved her and knew what having that ring meant to her. Like his mother’s sapphire, which Prince William gave to Kate Middleton, Jackson’s mother’s ring was more special than any newly bought diamond.

But she didn’t hear him. Instead, she lashed out.

“My dad was right, dammit,” Abby said as she started to boil. “You
are
a no-good playboy who can’t get a job because of his family’s reputation.”

Jackson was stung.

“On top of that, you’re a liar!”

“What—?”

Abby ripped the ring off her left hand and threw it at him. Jackson caught it in midair.

“I knew you were still in love with her!”

She stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Jackson stunned. He stared at the ring. It felt as though it was burning through his hand.

“What? Who am I still in love with?” Then it dawned on him, and he ran after her.

Abby was madly pulling her slim dress over her head as Jackson entered the bedroom.

“We need to talk,” Jackson insisted.

“We did talk. Now go away!” she spewed as she fastened the zipper. “I knew it was over when you didn’t say ‘I love you’ back! I am such a fool!” She grabbed her cashmere sweater from the back of the lounge chair.

“Abby—” Jackson said as he moved toward her.

“Stay back, and you just keep your lying little paws off me!”

“I never lied! Do you think I’m in love with Scarlett O’Hara?”

“Yes, or is there someone else?” Abby demanded to know.

“No. And no!” Jackson said, defending himself. “I don’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe it,” Abby snapped as she grabbed her coat from the back of his Eames chair. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I’ve never been such a fool!”

Before Jackson could stop her, she was gone.