Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(3)

Calli licked her lips. “You mean rebels, don’t you? They are rebels in the mountains.”

He smiled. “Touché, Miss Munro. You have revealed my own prejudice.” The smile was deprecating, touched with wry humor. It reminded her he was only a man, with weaknesses and passions.

He stood much too close. Despite the bars and the mere inches that separated them, she could feel his body heat against her. His masculine, strong scent curled around her, evoking a sense memory of being wrapped in a man’s arms.

The man watched her, not moving, his gaze as fixed as a hunter’s.

The pit of her stomach rolled. “Do you know me?” Her voice was husky.

“Yes.” The answer was low, a verbal caress as beguiling as his scent.

Her heart leapt and thudded hard. “I mean...” She cleared her throat. “You know my name.”

“I know all about you, Miss Callida Munro.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket. Her passport was in it. He slid it through the bars toward her. “Take it. Keep it on you. Once I am gone, you will be released. Your uncle, Joshua Benning, waits for you, downstairs.”

She took the passport with a sigh of relief and pushed it into the back pocket of her jeans. It was warm from his body heat.

His hand returned to his pocket.

“Do you have anything else of mine in there?” she asked, nodding toward his hand.

“Should I have?” He seemed surprised.

“They took my handbag, my luggage.”

“They?”

“The soldiers. The police. The men who arrested me.”

“This country is run under a military junta.” His tone was polite and formal, as hers was when she lectured.

“I’m sorry. I’m woefully ignorant about Vistaria. I’m insulting you.”

“You are no worse than most tourists here.”

“I’m usually better prepared. I’m a college professor. You make me feel like a big, ugly American blundering around and tripping over her own ignorance. I came in a hurry. That’s my only excuse.”

“Just as I have requested of you, I am also making allowances.” He gave the same little lift of the corner of his mouth. “And you are not quite a professor, yet.”

“How on earth do you know that?”

“The Internet is available in Vistaria, too, Miss Munro. I looked up your college website.”

“Dry reading for a festival night.”

“On the contrary.” He took his hand out of the pocket. “You may or may not get back your belongings. I will see what I can arrange. Consider yourself lucky regardless of what is returned. Good night, Miss Munro.”

She grabbed the bars. “Wait.”

He swiveled back. One brow lifted in query.

“Are you going to tell me who you are?”

“No.”

“No name? Nothing?”

“No.”

“No, wait!”

He turned back, patience in every line of his body.

She swallowed. “This is inappropriate and I don’t know how to do it in a way that isn’t totally forward...only...can we...can I...hell...” She cleared her throat again.

He showed curiosity, then dawning understanding. She recognized it as clearly as if he had spoken, for her whole body took an internal leap. Her heart was choking her.

Throughout their short interview, the expression in his eyes had not changed from the cool assessing one. Now she saw heat flicker there. “You have not had your fill of Vistarian men?”

The knowledge in his gaze made her chest hurt. Her body tingled. It killed her finesse. She had run out of time, anyway. He wanted to leave. She shook her head. “Not you.” She kept her tone as soft as his.

“Ahh...” An entire conversation lived in that breathed response. Calli heard understanding, pleasure...and regret.

He lifted his hand to where she clutched at the bars. It was his right hand, hidden from the sergeant. The long fingers rested against hers. His touch thrilled her. The tip of his finger slid against the tender flesh of hers. She shivered as desire rippled through her.

He recorded every minute reaction with his dark blue eyes. He gave another of the half-smiles. Regret lingered in his face. He moved his head a fraction.

No.

She let her hands fall away. This time, when he turned to leave she did not stop him. Instead, she rested her heated forehead against the cold bars and closed her eyes, as shame flushed through her.

Now, more than ever, she wanted to go home. Even if the man lived up to his promise set her free, she would still be a prisoner on Vistaria.





Chapter Two


Fifty-three minutes later, a sullen soldier escorted Calli down the narrow, steep stairs to the front office of the police station. Her escort was one of the four chastised by him, the stranger who had churned her insides so much she still felt a lingering, throbbing need.

The soldier led her to the high desk in the corner and dug behind it. He placed a single sheet of paper on top and held out a pen. He tapped the sheet with his other hand.

She turned the sheet around, glanced at the gibberish. “What does it say?” She suspected the document was a release or waiver.

He shook his head. “No Ingles.”

“Callida! Thank god!”

Calli whirled to face the shouter. Her Uncle Josh, his curly brown hair rumpled, strode toward her. He was sweating despite his tropical weight suit. He hugged her, squeezing tight. “We’ve been worried sick!”