“What about me? What do they want with me?”
      He laughed. “I don’t think you have to worry. How old are you?”
      What did that have to do with the price of bananas? “Twenty-six.”
      “Much too old. You’re safe.”
      She clenched her jaw so hard it hurt. Twenty-six hardly qualified her for the early-bird special. “Safe from
what?”
      His blue eyes glinted with humor. “Their shaman had a vision that if he mated with a woman with pale skin
and golden hair, the tribe would be safe from outsiders.”
      Her stomach flip-flopped. “Mated?”
      “There’d be a marriage ceremony first, but even though you have the right coloring, you won’t do at all.”
      She didn’t want to be some shaman’s wife, but he didn’t have to be so insulting. Narrowing her eyes, she
ground out, “Why is that?”
      Coop winked again. “The shaman needs a virgin.”

                                                                                      ***

      The schoolmarm’s creamy white skin turned a shade whiter. Bloody ‘ell, she couldn’t hear the word “virgin”
without fainting? He thought these American birds were made of stronger stuff.
      She even resembled one of the women made famous in the Amazon with her tall stature and lush figure.
Those knee-length khaki walking shorts had to go though, along with that white blouse buttoned up to her chin
and that vest. A vest! Did she realize how hot it could get out here? Only the sweat soaking her blouse
revealed she had a body under all those clothes. From the little he saw, the shaman would be only too pleased
to explore that body. He wouldn’t be the only one.
      Lucky for her a twenty-six year old American wouldn’t fit the bill. Coop had a mutually beneficial deal going
on with the shaman, but if the shaman wanted to deflower a pale-skinned virgin, Coop couldn’t do much to stop
him. At least not too much.
      “Here, sit down.” He offered her a gourd of water from his bowl. “There’s no need to worry.”
      Her hand trembled as she took the gourd from his. That martial light died out of her bottle-green eyes, and
her lower lip quivered, making her seem more vulnerable than the stiff, blond icicle who ushered a chill into his
tent.
      He rubbed her arm, his fingers lingering on her smooth skin. “We’ll have you back on the trail to your
camp in no time, but I’d appreciate it if you kept quiet about your encounter here.”
      She gulped the water, dipped her fingertips in the remaining drops, and dabbed her temples. A smile
curved her mouth. She’d been so busy pursing her lips in disapproval he hadn’t noticed how ripe they were
before.
      “What do you hope to accomplish here, Mr. Coop?”
      Mr. Coop? He sat here naked, except for his loincloth, and he’d only pulled that on when he heard the
commotion outside, and she acted like they were taking tea at bloody Buckingham Palace. “Just call me Coop.”
      “That still doesn’t answer my question.”
      The ice age returned and the lips thinned out again. Maybe her husband wouldn’t be too thrilled at her
return after all. “It’s not every day a man can be king. I’m enjoying the ride while it lasts.”
      Frowning, she shook her head. “I think it’s silly, and it could be dangerous.”
      He snatched the gourd from her. “I’m not the one who wandered away from my tour group in the middle of
the rainforest. Won’t your husband be sending out a search party?”
      She grew still and clasped her hands between her knees. “I don’t have a husband.”
      “Boyfriend?”
      Her face softened again, and her long lashes swept down. “No.”
      “You’re not with one of those lesbian tour groups, are you?”
      She jumped up, knocking the gourd out of his hands. “I’m traveling by myself. Nobody knows I’m here. I
doubt the tour group even realizes I’m missing because I joined the group for this tour only. I’m all alone.”
      He held up his hands to defend against her rapid fire words. Must be a sore point, but relief swept through
him that this tasty package didn’t do women. “All right. What’s your name anyway?”
      “Anna Winter.”
      That figured. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he guided her back to her seat, and then retrieved the
gourd and filled it again. “Have some more water, Anna Winter.”
      She sipped slowly, the color stealing back into her cheeks. English women were supposed to have the
peaches and cream skin, but Anna’s could rival the complexion of all the Englishwomen on the whole bloody
island.
      Her tongue darted out to catch a drop of water glistening at the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry. This whole
situation is unreal. I just want to get back to the camp.”
      Getting ready for the hard part, he took a deep breath. “We’ll get you back to your camp. Just as soon as
the inspection is over.”
      The tongue stopped, and he relaxed because if he had to watch it sweeping across her full bottom lip one
more time, his loincloth would resemble this tent he called home.
      Her golden brows shot up. “Inspection?”
      He pushed up from the floor and busied himself with the tent flaps. The other ones. “Remember, I told you
the shaman needs a virgin?”
      “Yes.”
      Her voice sounded very far away, so he peered over his shoulder. She clasped her hands between her
knees again. She did a lot of clasping.
      “It’s a small matter, really. He just needs to make sure.” He felt such a coward, so he swung around to
stand in front of her.
      Bad move.
      Her eyes were slits, resembling some creature out here in the jungle. “Sure of what?”
      He crouched in front of her, his loincloth swinging to the floor. “He needs to make sure you’re a virgin. Or
not, in this case.”
      She swayed toward him, and he caught her in his arms inhaling her floral scent. Despite her austere
appearance, she smelled and felt like pure woman. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, Anna. He doesn’t perform the
inspection himself. The women do.”
      He began to enjoy the feel of her soft body against his when her head shot up from his shoulder. “The
women?”
      “His other wives.”
      A wail started somewhere deep in her throat, and he clamped his hand over her mouth before it could
explode in the tent. “Shhh. It won’t be so bad. Think of it as a gynecological exam. Once they determine you’re,
ummm, not intact, you’ll be on your merry way.”
      Her eyes formed two huge circles above his hand, and he dragged his thumb across her lips before
caressing her cheek. “There won’t be any men present, and I’m sure they’ll allow you to leave the rest of your
clothes on.”
      She knocked his hand away. “You’re insane. I’m not submitting to any exam. This is the twenty-first
century.”
      Why did she keep bringing up the bloody century? He shook his head. “Not here.”
      She rose from the stool and thrust her shoulders back. Did she realize one of the buttons on her blouse
had popped off, revealing the lacy edge of her bra? He didn’t need to point that out.
      “Aren’t you King Coop? Tell them I’m not a virgin and have them take me back to the camp. I won’t tell a
soul about this crazy place. I’d rather forget it.”
      Anna obviously knew how to order people around. Maybe a few weeks in this Amazon hideaway would do
her some good, bring her down from her high horse. Unlike the men in her world, the men in this community
possessed all the power. And he was the cock of the walk.
      “It’s not that easy, Anna.”
      “Yes it is. Tell them.”
      “The shaman won’t be satisfied until he gets an official report from his wives. Relax. Once that report
comes back stamped ‘impure,’ you’re history.”
      All her bravado seemed to seep from her body as she sank to the stool and bowed her head. “There’s
only one problem.”
      He crossed his arms to keep from stroking her golden hair. He’d like to see it loosened from that restrictive
braid. In fact, everything about her screamed hands-off. Why did she hide under all those clothes and that
superior attitude?
      “Your modesty? I told you; think of it as a gynecological exam. Surely even you’ve had one of those.”
      She snapped, “Of course, I have.”
      Yeah, probably in a darkened room wearing a burlap sack. “Then what’s the problem?”
      Her gaze met his for a fleeting moment before she dropped it. “I am a virgin.”