Free Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) by Kate Fellowes Page B

carved wooden figurines modeled after the stelae of the ruins. “I’d like to cover important things. Issues rather than events, you know. With no sugar coating or deception.”
    “Ah, yes. The investigative reporting,” he said.
    “Exactly,” I agreed. “But, in the mean time, I’ll cover fashion shows and open houses, I guess.”
    “And go on zoo treks deep into the jungle.”
    “Of course!” I laughed, then sobered. “And, who knows, maybe this will be my springboard.”
    The light went out of those deep, dark eyes and his mouth set in a firm line of disapproval. “You said you would keep out of this. It was just a quirk that got you involved in the first place.”
    “And nearly killed me!”
    “It could have been serious, that’s true. All the more reason to stay as uninvolved as possible. You did promise me.” He reached for my hand, pulling me to a standstill and searching my face. Gently, so gently, he reached up, his fingers resting on my cheek as our eyes met.
    I held my breath, not moving. When his hands captured mine again, I took his willingly, enjoying the feel of his skin against mine.
    He gave my hand a squeeze, crunching my fingers together in a no-nonsense way. “Keep your promise, Allison,” he said, his voice making the request a demand. “I might not always be around to rescue you.”
    The night before I’d wondered why he had been so close both times I’d needed him. My overtired brain hadn’t wanted to assign scary motives, though. Today, in the bright sunlight, my fears lost some power.
    I blinked slowly, and squeezed back. “I’m a woman of my word. I keep all my promises.” The tingle I felt where our hands met spread like a trail of fire up my arms, then down my spine. Fighting the urge to shrug my shoulders and dispel the lovely bit of tension, I stood rooted in place.
    All around us, the life of the marketplace went on. Bargains were reached and money changed hands.
    What kind of bargain were we making? I wondered. It seemed to go beyond the matter at hand, if I was reading the situation correctly. And, oh, I thought, I hope I am!
    “It’s awfully warm, Allison. How about something cool to drink?” Mart’s welcome suggestion changed the subject, defusing a potentially intense moment.
    Side by side, we walked a few blocks down a narrow dirt street. It appeared to be the business district and, as we passed intriguing shop windows, I promised myself I’d explore them later.
    Mart caught my wandering eye. “Thinking of adding even more to the local economy?”
    “Maybe,” I hedged. “And I still don’t see why you object.”
    “To tourism in this country?” he clarified.
    “Yes.” I told him about how I’d felt in the jungle the day before. How, after seeing it and actually being a part of it, I was more concerned and aware than I’d been when the rain forest was just a faraway place on a map.
    “That’s good, Allison. I’m glad you’re concerned now. But does that mean until you see African elephants on the continent you won’t care about ivory poaching? What about whales? If you’ve never seen one swimming free in the ocean, you’re not bothered by their slaughter?”
    “Well — ” I interrupted with a sputter.
    He kept right on going without pausing for breath, gaining momentum as he went. “What about oil drilling in the Arctic? You don’t have to personally experience these things, Allison. Just knowing the facts — seeing the pictures — should strike a responsive chord in you. In everyone!” As he lectured, his hands flashed in constant motion. His voice wasn’t angry, just animated and fired with the strength of his convictions.
    I wouldn’t want to debate him , I thought, tuning out for a moment or two. In the end, I know I frustrated him enormously. Tactfully, I said, “I think both positions have merit. Tourism may do some damage, but it brings attention. Staying noncommercial may keep things pure and untainted, but it also keeps