A Taste of Temptation (Las Vegas Nights 3)

As he chewed a bite of crocodile, he wondered if maybe the producers of The Culinary Wanderer had been right about coming to Africa for this next season. He’d blocked out just how diverse and delicious the cuisine was.

“Tell me your news.”

“I found your father.”

“But I’d already done that.”

“Yes, but I know where he is right now.”

“How?”

“You forget how well-connected I am.” He saluted himself with his wineglass before continuing. “A guy I knew knew another guy who has used your father to gather wildlife footage in the past and had his phone number. Turns out he’s not far from here. I wasn’t able to get us into the camp where he’s staying, but there’s a lodge about an hour away that a friend of mine owns.”

Harper had stopped eating and was looking a little shell-shocked. “When?”

“Late tomorrow after you get your passport. I chartered a plane to take us into Nelspruit where we’ll pick up a car and drive to Kruger National Park. It shouldn’t take more than a couple hours. We can catch up with him before he heads out the following day.”

What he really needed to do was get on a plane and go back to Las Vegas, but she couldn’t bring herself to remind him that his first priority should be Batouri.

“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice wavered. “I’d prepared myself to leave without even meeting him. Thank you.”

“No thanks required.”

Her gaze locked on his face. “Well, I won’t take it back.”

Warmth spread from his chest through his whole body. He reached for her hand and smiled as she slipped her fingers through his. The couple sitting at the table beside them smiled. Ashton imagined the romantic picture he and Harper made. In the past while he’d never kept his personal life hidden, he hadn’t indulged in public displays of affection, either. With Harper he wanted the whole world to notice that she belonged with him.

He’d even started thinking in terms of guiding her to all the places he’d visited and loved. Her ambivalence about her future was a perfect opening to present all the possibilities they could explore together.

By two the next day, Harper’s temporary passport was ready to pick up. They headed straight for the airport where they were met by their flight’s copilot and escorted onto a well-maintained eight-passenger plane.

As the sun was approaching the horizon almost three hours later, Ashton was braking to a halt alongside a Range Rover of similar age to their own at the Grant Tented Camp. Scattered along the river were six luxurious tents with king-size beds, en suite bathrooms and private terraces. Tucked among thick stands of mature trees and connected by a raised wooden walkway, each tent enjoyed a great deal of privacy.

“Why don’t you have a look around while I get us checked in.”

Harper opened her door and stepped out, a look of awe on her face. “This isn’t exactly what I pictured when you told me we were going to spend a couple nights in a tent camp.”

He patted the roof of the Range Rover. “It’s not exactly a camel.” He gestured around them. “And it’s not exactly the desert, although we are close to the end of the dry season. But at least there are tents. I hope you enjoy it.”

She was touched that he’d gone to so much trouble to make her quest to South Africa such a marvelous experience. “Of course I will. How could I not?”

She accompanied him into the tented, open-air lounge and wandered toward the small pool nestled against the deck that overlooked the river. Built of local rock and surrounded by lush plants, it seemed like a completely natural addition to the landscape. Ashton went to see about their accommodations, and Harper wandered until she found the small dining room, also tented, with tables set with white cloth, china and crystal, mahogany chairs and candelabras awaiting the touch of a match.

Such elegance tucked into a wild, untamed landscape charmed Harper. Had Ashton guessed the place was so romantic? She was almost dizzy in anticipation of seeing where they would sleep as she went back to the lounge to await Ashton’s return.

The dozen or so guests she noticed scattered about spoke in low voices as if not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of such a tranquil spot. Harper hadn’t been here more than ten minutes and she was as relaxed as if she’d been hypnotized by a master.

“Ready?” Ashton’s low voice rumbled behind her.

She turned and willingly accepted the hand he held out to her. “I love it here.”

“I’m glad.”

They walked down a path bordered by hanging lanterns that wound through the vegetation behind the cottages. When they reached the last one, Ashton unlocked the door and pushed it open. Harper took a few steps inside and hesitated in the dimness until Ashton located a light switch.

She gasped in delight.

The tent fabric was held up by a pole in the middle of the large space, forming a fifteen-foot-high ceiling. There was a king-size bed with white bedding, a walnut wardrobe with glass doors and a chandelier suspended overhead, and a sitting area that held a couch flanked by two chairs and a fireplace. Golden light spilled from an assortment of lamps both attached to the olive-green walls and scattered on the various small tables. A bottle of champagne was cooling in a wine bucket on the colonial-style coffee table.