Rainbows and Rapture Read Online Free PDF Page A

suddenly.
    “What?”
    “I cain’t really and truly throw up my socks on account o’ I didn’t eat none. This is all your fault, y’know.”
    His bitter thoughts were so intense, it was a moment before her statement registered. “What? What’s my fault?”
    “If you hadn’t yelled at me the way you done, I wouldn’t have bited my tongue plumb nelly in half. If I hadn’t bited my tongue in half, I wouldn’t have bleeded, and if I hadn’t bleeded, I wouldn’t have got sick enough to throw up my socks even though I didn’t eat none.” She sat upright and put her feet on the floor, rotating her head around her shoulders.
    He watched her. “What are you doing?”
    “Testin’ to see if I’m still dizzy. What’s it to you?”
    “You look like a damn turtle.”
    She glowered at him. “Zamora, you’re about as nice as a snake with a abscessed fang. Whatcha got against turtles anyway?”
    He decided her stupid question wasn’t worth answering. Confident that she’d recovered from her swoon, he strode to the bed and lay down, waiting for her to begin. When she remained on the sofa, his anger returned. “Look,” he said from between clenched teeth, “I’m going to ask you three questions, and I want answers.” He took a second to calm himself. “Have you ever seen a naked man before?” he asked very softly.
    She couldn’t seem to find her voice. After looking away from him, she managed a weak “Yes.” To reinforce her answer, she nodded vigorously, then let out a small shriek when her flower headband fell to her nose.
    Santiago allowed her to adjust it before gently asking his second question. “Have you ever been bedded?”
    Though the temptation was enormous, she refused to look at him, knowing that if she did she wouldn’t be able to talk. “Yes.”
    “Then what the hell are you waiting for?” he thundered.
    Gathering the remains of what courage she had left, she stood and forced herself to look at him, making sure her gaze remained on his face and not on his dark, bare chest. “I need you to find a man fer me, Zamora.”
    “You’ve got one, Valentine. Me.”
    As if it were made of fire, his meaning set her ablaze with a strange heat she’d never once felt before.
    “Take off your clothes, Russia.”
    She gasped. “Pissin’ pineapples, Zamora, I didn’t come up here fer that!”
    He didn’t know whether to comment on her ridiculous expression or the fact that she had no intention of getting into bed with him. “Pissing pineapples?”
    She ignored the taunting look on his face. Instead, she stared at his hair. In long raven waves, it lay spread out on his white pillow. The thought of sliding her fingers through it brought those peculiar feelings back to her again.
    “Russia,” he prompted.
    “What?” She stared at him blankly before remembering what she’d been saying. “I come up here,” she began, chancing a quick glance at his powerful body, then wishing she hadn’t. Lord, the man had muscles in places she never knew they grew! “Um…I come up here to—to talk to you. I need you to find Wirt.”
    “Wirt? What’s a wirt?”
    She twisted one of her long curls around her hand so thoroughly it took her almost a minute to get her fingers free. “Wirt ain’t a ‘it,’ he’s a ‘he.’ Wirt Avery. The bastard’s been follerin’ me since the Dead Sea was only sick. I hear you’re the best tracker in the country, and I want you to git him.”
    He propped himself up on his elbow, allowing his gaze to travel down the length of her slender body. “You can’t afford me.”
    His statement erased her excitement at the thought of hiring him. He was right. She was penniless. Her chin dropped to her chest; she watched her breasts rise and fall with her breaths. The sight gave her a solution to her problem. As she dwelled on it, an odd but sweet ache began deep inside her.
    “I cain’t pay you them thousands o’ dollars you’re used to gittin’,” she told him, raising