Part 4 (1/2)

No man in his right mind would make such bizarre statements. She returned the favor of examining his nicely revealed physique. The slopes and valleys of his chest and midriff were prominently delineated through the wet fabric of his s.h.i.+rt. Both it and his trousers were a little unusual in cut, as were his mud-splotched boots. He wore a heavy leather belt and some kind of bandoleer hung with small pouches and loops. Expedition wear of the sort you'd see in a '40s safari movie.

Another surge of recklessness moved her mouth before her brain could stop it. ”It's Miss,” she said. ”MacKenzie's the name. But I think it's 'Ms.' to you.”

He didn't get it. She could see it went right over his head. Maybe it was time to start asking a few questions of her own. ”I didn't catch your name, Mra”

His gaze made another sweep from her boot toes to her dripping hair. ”Dressed as you are and in such a state, Miss MacKenzie, I doubt you could catch anything but the grippe.”

She guessed what he implied. She knew how she must appear, in waterlogged jeans and camp s.h.i.+rt, not in the least pretty or delicate or curvaceous in the way that seemed to attract the opposite s.e.x. She had no reason to want to be attractive to a man like this. She'd thought she was well past caring.

But, oddly enough, she wasn't.

”Charming,” she said. ”What century did you emerge from, pray tell? The first? Or maybe a little earliera”the Precambrian era, perhaps?”

The creases deepened between his strong brows; Mac saw more puzzlement than anger in his expression. Didn't the guy know when he'd gotten as good as he gave?

But his apparent confusion didn't last long. ”I see,” he said. ”I've heard of your type. Are you one of those female suffragists who think they're the equals of men in all things?”

Female suffragists? Where'd he dig up that label? ”I don't just think it, I know it. You have a problem with that?”

For the first time he smiled. It wasn't a particularly nice smile. A spark of some undefined sensation shot the length of her spine. She could be playing with fire here, pursuing her own imaginary game with no thought to who or what this guy really was. She wondered why that edge of danger didn't trouble her any more than the bizarre coincidence of his appearance. The last time she'd felt this way was when she'd been on prescription muscle relaxants for a pulled shoulder.

This is what Homer meant, she thought incoherently. You can get drunk on adventure. a ”I'm not the one with the problem, Miss MacKenzie,” he said. ”It's clear you have more than you can handle. Is that why the disguise?”

”What are you talking about?”

”The trousers. The hair.” He adjusted his stance to one that practically shouted masculine challenge. ”You've done well disguising your gendera””

Mac choked.

”a”but not well enough.”

His eyes were no longer fixed on hers. Now they were trained on her chest. She was suddenly, terribly aware that the rain had stopped, her s.h.i.+rt was clinging to the unimpressive curves of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and her nipples were still puckered.

She might as well have been naked. Liam's clone spent a little too long studying that part of her, and his demeanor was no longer quite so pitying. There was a certain distracted quality to it, a slight loosening of his jaw and mellowing of his gaze. Mac was far less familiar with that kind of regard.

The sensation of having a man look at her as if her body were of any interest whatsoever was so novel that she was momentarily incapable of any emotion but surprise.

Until she remembered that this guy might be more than merely eccentric, and it was getting very close to sunset. The almost drunken feeling of invulnerability drained in an adrenaline rush from her body. She took a step away from him, forcing herself to keep from wrapping her arms across her chest.

”Did you consider this masquerade a way of ensuring your safety?” he asked, scowling ominously. ”You're fortunate it worked this long.”

What was this stuff about hiding her s.e.x? He thought she'd come to Tikal disguised as a boy, and that made about as much sense as the rest of the things he'd said.

”I wasn't trying to 'disguise' anything,” she retorted, unable to help herself. ”I just decided to leave my high heels and miniskirt at home.”

”You should have stayed at home, Miss MacKenzie. Your guide could have slit your throat, or worse. You're more a fool than he was.”

She tried to imagine that young man slitting her throat and felt an unexpected need to defend him. ”No way. Sure, he left without me, but I can make it back just fine on my own.”

”Back to where? How long have you been alone?”

Serious warning bells rang in Mac's mind. This time she listened. All at once it seemed like a good idea to let him believe she wasn't alone. For all she knew, he might be contemplating slitting her throat.

”Oh, not long,” she said airily. ”In fact, he's probably right down the trail. I think I should go find him.”

Yes, very good idea. The game had gone on long enough. Mac turned cautiously toward the path her erstwhile guide had cut through the jungle.

And realized a moment later that something wasn't right. The ragged clearing that had been there before wasa”gone. The heavy rain had obscured everything until a few minutes ago, and then she'd been too absorbed by Liam's double to pay attention.

Now she noticed. A few steps away from the temple and she was. .h.i.tting waist-high foliagea”not as dense as in the jungle itself, but thick enough to trip her up at a moment's inattention. She stopped and scanned the area. Yes, she was in the right place. She had to be. The temple and ruins were exactly the way she'd seen them when she'd emerged from the path.

Okay. She must have gotten more confused than she'd thought when she'd been lost in the tunnel. She kicked and batted dripping plants out of her way until she reached the place where a certain crumbling stele had marked the path's end.

The stele was still there. The path wasn't. Mac checked her alignment again. This was the right place. The jungle closed in like a wall where the path should have been, solid and impenetrable.

”I know plants grow fast in the jungle,” she muttered, ”but this is ridiculousa”

”Is something the matter, Miss MacKenzie?”

Mac stiffened. She'd had her back to Liam's improbable twin all this time, and she'd never heard him take a single step. He moved up beside her now, jerking his chin toward the fortress of young trees, vines, and intertwined bushes. ”Is that the way you came from Tikal?” he asked. ”You said you'd walked here.”

”I did,” she said. ”There's a path, right here.”

He brushed past her and examined the area, one brow c.o.c.ked. ”Perhaps you'd point it out to me. My vision isn't as keen as yours.”

Mac just managed not to glare at him. She marched forward. Trailing lianas slapped across the nose. d.a.m.n it, it had to be here. A few broken branches, at least. Something.

The stranger leaned against a convenient tree trunk, arms folded. ”Do you need a.s.sistance, Miss MacKenzie?”

Definitely patronizing, that was the word for his tone. She ignored him and paced a few yards away, still searching. It wasn't her imagination; the break in the dense vegetation simply wasn't there.

Mac wanted very badly to sit down and swear in the myriad creative ways Homer had taught her, but she'd be d.a.m.ned if she'd let Liam's annoying clone see her defeated. Great set of priorities, Mac, she chided herself. But she was coming up blank. She'd have to make a circuit of the ruins, keep searchinga ”There is no path.”

She whirled to face him in spite of her best intentions. ”I didn't fly here,” she snapped.

”But he did abandon you.”

”The guide? Yes. I meana”no, he cut me the path, and it was right here.”

He pushed himself away from the tree. ”I know these ruins. The only path is the one I made, on the other side of the temple. It leads to my camp.”

Great. Mac lined herself up with the stele and made another attempt at the jungle wall.

”It'll be dark in a few hours,” he said behind her. ”Whatever suffragist cant you hold dear, Miss MacKenzie, or however you came here, you can't travel through the jungle alone.”

She almost s.h.i.+vered at the certainty in his voice. Better to be alone in the jungle than here with you, she thought irrationally. But he refused to read her mind. He strolled up beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body even amidst the sweltering humidity.

”And I doubt your unusual lantern will cut you a way through the forest,” he said. His gaze dropped to the flashlight hanging from her belt.

It momentarily occurred to her that the flashlight was probably in more danger from this hunky weirdo than she was herself. Hadn't he said he'd broken his lantern?