Dangerous to Hold by Merline Lovelace Read Free Book Online Page B

mosquito netting the gringo had rigged over both of them.
    She approached the second hammock with the assurance of a woman who danced with a joyful, natural grace and playeda mean game of tennis. She soon found, however, that negotiating her way into a swinging hammock with a child in one arm and heavy skirts draped over the other took more than grace or coordination. It took a skill she didn’t seem to possess.
    On her first attempt, the lightweight net swung out from under her, nearly dropping her on her bottom. On her second attempt, the knee she’d lifted to anchor the net swayed away, causing her to hop a few steps across the dirt floor on one foot to keep from losing her balance. Six year old Teresa clung to her neck, like one of those stuffed toys with the long, strangling arms, and giggled.
    The sound tugged at Sarah’s heart. She smiled down at the child. “Think that’s funny, do you?”
    Teresa put a dirty hand to her mouth to cover the gap from her lost front teeth. Her black eyes sparkled.
    â€œLet’s try this again. We’ll do it scientifically this time. One step at a time.”
    Grasping the edge of the net in a firm hand, Sarah rose up on tiptoe and swung her hips into the net. She gave a startled squawk as the hammock rolled high up in the air and dumped her on the floor.
    Teresa came down on top of her, giggling helplessly. Childish snickers from the other hammock told Sarah that Ricci was getting as much enjoyment out of this as Teresa. Even Eduard was smiling, she saw when she sat up and shoved back the once-starched white headband that held her veil out of her eyes.
    So was the mercenary. He leaned on one elbow, the floppy hat pushed to the back of his head. Even through the draped mosquito net, Sarah could see the crooked slash of white teeth that cut the darkness of his unshaven cheeks.
    Sarah had perfected a lot of skills during her years as a Washington political hostess. One of the most valuable was a ripple of musical laughter that went a long way toward minimizing any social disaster. André had often told her that herability to smile and shrug off domestic crises that would mortify other hostesses was among her most charming traits.
    So the answering smile she gave the gringo began as a well-learned, deliberate response to an embarrassing situation. But as her mouth curved, Sarah found relief from her fear and fatigue in the simple act. Her smile deepened.
    For a moment, their eyes met, his gray and shadowed by black lashes, hers free of the fear that had haunted her for so many hours. They weren’t mercenary and nun, but simply a man and woman enjoying a ridiculous moment. He broke it off first. Still grinning, he lay down again and tugged the hat over his eyes.
    Sarah dragged herself to her feet and plunked Teresa into the hammock. “It’s all yours, sweetheart.”
    The little girl grabbed at her hand. “Sarita!”
    â€œDon’t worry. I’ll be right here beside you.”
    Gently disengaging her hand, Sarah pushed aside the mosquito netting draped over the stained, uninviting bedroll. She lifted the sleeping bag by one corner and shook it once, twice. Something fell out and scurried away between the stacked crates. Sarah gasped, then grabbed the other corner and shook the mat for all she was worth.
    The man on the other bedroll grunted and rolled over on his side, his back to Sarah.
    After a vigorous shaking, she laid the edges of the limp bedroll down and sat back on her heels, eyeing it distrustfully. When nothing moved under its surface and no hissing lump appeared, she smoothed it out with short, swift and very cautious pats.
    â€œFor Pete’s sake, will you lie down?”
    Sarah threw his broad back an indignant look. Slowly, gingerly, she stretched out, then reached up to tug the mosquito netting back down. It settled around them both like a white cloud, enclosing them in an airy, strangely intimate cocoon. After a few