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nuzzled her neck. "I'll clean up and be waiting in bed for you."
    She laughed as she fished the key out of her pocket. "Well, all right, but I was planning to climb into the tub with you."
    "Got things to do, sugar. If I'm already cleaned up, we'll have more time in the sack."
    "In that case, get a move on." She winked and kissed him, and Ben sauntered out of the bar, aware of three sets of eyes watching him, but he was interested in only one. Women. Damn their sweet little hides, if they ever figured out just how wild men were for them, the power structure of the entire world would turn upside down. Maybe that was why men had been made bigger and stronger, just to give them a fighting chance.

    Rick had given Jillian instructions to have their belongings stored while they were away; then he and Kates had left the hotel to find the guide they had heard about. She was glad of the time alone, because she had some things to take care of that she didn't want either of them to know about. First she arranged for storage, searching out the hotel manager, who didn't seem overly pleased with the idea of holding their stuff. But as they wouldn't be leaving a great deal behind and since she paid him for two months' storage in advance, he was willing. After a few moments of conversation in a mixture of Portuguese and English, she understood that he disapproved of her going on the expedition at all.
    "Many men do not come back, senhora," he said seriously. He was very Latin in looks, short and stocky, with straight black hair and large dark eyes. "The jungle eats them up, and they are never seen again."
    Jillian didn't correct his assumption that she was a married woman, for it would only have embarrassed him and didn't matter to her. It wasn't an unusual assumption, that she was Rick's wife rather than his sister. They didn't resemble each other at all, except that they both had brown hair. The manager seemed like a nice man, and she wanted to pat his hand to comfort him. "I understand your concerns," she said. "I share them. Believe me, I don't take the jungle lightly. But I'm an archaeologist, and I'm used to rough conditions. I've probably slept more nights in a tent than in a bed, and I'm very cautious."
    "I hope so, senhora," he replied, his fine eyes worried. "Myself, I would not go."
    "But I must, and I promise you I'll take every care."
    She hadn't lied. Though she had done most of her work in dry, dusty climates, she knew the obstacles that faced them. Both flora and fauna could prove deadly. Her vaccinations were up to date, she had a good supply of antibiotics and insect repellent, a more than adequate first-aid kit, and was competent at stitching up minor wounds. She had also taken the precaution of getting a prescription for birth control pills and had brought along a three-month supply, smuggled into the country in her first-aid kit, disguised as antihistamines.
    Still, she didn't try to fool herself that she could cope with everything the rain forest would throw at them. She would be careful, but accidents could always happen, as could illness. Despite every caution, snakebite could happen. She also had antivenin in the first-aid kit, but there were some poisons for which there was no antidote. Hostile Indians were also a possibility, since there were great stretches of the Amazon basin that had never been explored or mapped. They literally had no idea what they would find.
    She quickly finished her business with the manager and left the hotel with one purpose in mind: to purchase a reliable weapon. She thought it would be a relatively easy task in Manaus; after all, the city, with its wide avenues and European ambience, was a duty-free port. Practically any mass-produced product in the world could be found in Manaus.
    Living in Los Angeles probably helped her endure the heat better than if she had lived in, say, Seattle, but still she found the humidity enervating. They were here in the best season, the winter months of