Read Online Man of Passion by Lindsay McKenna - Free Book Online Page B

expanse of the Amazon as they began to drift closer to the right bank. Forcing a smile she didn't feel, Ari looked up at Rafe . His black brows were drawn down and she was shocked to see anguish, for just a second, in his eyes. Her father never showed his grief over her mother's passing. She had never seen him cry. He had stood at the funeral tall, strong and unmoving. It was she, Ari, who had sobbed for the two stoic males in her family. She'd cried for weeks after that, without end. To realize that Rafe was showing his feelings was a shock to her.
    Mesmerized by that discovery, Ari simply stared up at him. So men could feel and emote. It was a wonderful discovery to her. The boys at Georgetown University were nothing like this man who stood so tall and knightly before her. But then, Ari reminded herself, Rafe was not a boy. Clearly, he was a mature man, even emotionally. That thrilled her. Scared her. She had no idea how to react to a man who could share his feelings with her so openly. They barely knew one another, yet he was unveiling his vulnerability to her. Trust…he trusted her. The concept was euphoric. Frightening.
    Rafe felt her inspection of him. He purposely didn't turn to meet her eyes, though. Let her look him over real good. He knew to treat her just as he did the wild animals he encountered. In the forest, when he came upon a herd of wild pigs, they wouldn't flee unless he looked them squarely in the eyes. Instead, he'd halt, remain motionless and allow them to gauge him with their senses. When he did that, they would remain and continue digging for roots, or they'd amble off without squealing in fear. Ari was just like a wild animal in some respects, he was discovering. Still, her nervousness told him that she didn't know what she was getting into in spending months in the Amazon.
    "Losing two of the most important people in your life when you were eight had to be a special hell." He shook his head, his hands tightening momentarily on the aged wooden wheel he stood over. If he didn't grip hard, he was going to reach out and gently curve his hand across the top of her wispy golden hair, to soothe the grief he heard in her soft voice. The impulse alarmed Rafe . How could this waif inspire such a powerful feeling in him so suddenly?
    "It's been hard," Ari admitted. Patting the journal on her lap, she said, "Mom asked both of us to come to her bedroom every day. Kirk didn't want to. I think he was afraid and couldn't stand the thought of losing her, or seeing her slip away from us, month after month."
    "But you did?"
    "Yes. And you know what my parents did? It was the most wonderful gift of all. They took me out of school for that last year of my mom's life. She tutored me at home, on her bed. On good days, if she felt like it, we'd be in the living room and she'd sit on the couch. On bad days, she'd stay in bed and I'd sit cross-legged on the quilt, just listening to her, or reading to her from one of her favorite books."
    Satisfaction soared through him. "That was a beautiful parting gift." Try as he might, Rafe could no longer see Ari as rich, spoiled and inexperienced, though he struggled to hold that view of her. He had to.
    "It was my father's idea."
    "He saw how close you were to your mother and probably realized the loss of Janis had so devastated you that you needed that time with her. Time to help heal yourself and say your goodbye to your mother."
    Shrugging, Ari said, "I don't know. My father is like a fortress, Rafe . He doesn't cry. He doesn't show emotion, except for his anger and disgust over my bad decisions. That's the only way I've ever seen him." She almost added , I wish he was more like you, but bit her lower lip instead. Sometimes she gushed too spontaneously. Her father often accused her of hoof-in-mouth disease.
    "Men can be stoic," Rafe agreed. He pointed ahead. "Look, another flight of macaws. This has to be your day."
    Excitedly, Ari slipped off the chair and walked outside the