Chapter 5
Chapter 5
T he Major had no need to go to the market, at least not for himself. He had zero needs for which the army didn’t provide, from shaving cream to clothing, it was all covered. But he went to the market regardless, walking the open air stalls each week as a sign of goodwill to the locals. He bought things he never used, for that same sense of community. Most of the women who sold their wares had no other source of income. His need to provide for them trumped his desire not to buy things he didn’t need. “ Bonita, bonita ,” he said, nodding as a woman stuffed a woven purse into his fingers, beaming. He gave her more than it was worth, not enough to be insulting or obvious, but enough to make himself seem ignorant of how much things cost. She beamed at him, a little stunned, and he turned away, not wanting to see gratitude for something so simple.
It was in that turn that he saw her, a flash of blond curls. He didn’t believe in auras, but if he did Juniper’s would be sparkling. She radiated energy, movement, and good cheer. John was so focused on staring at her it took a moment to realize to whom she talked. And when he did his heart somersaulted for other, more sinister reasons. Slovenka. It wasn’t his real name. Or maybe it was, John had no idea. The Eastern Bloc had become masters at misinformation. Whatever his name, he was John’s Soviet counterpart, the man sent from the USSR to oversee the Sandinistas, the man now fueling all the unrest John attempted to keep a lid on. They were polar opposites, enemies of the highest order. Of course he would find Juniper. This was what John feared, that someone would figure out their connection and use it against him.
Though, as he studied the two as they talked, neither seemed aware of him. They chatted like old friends, both faces alight with animation. He said something that made her laugh, and she said something that made him chuckle in return. John clenched his fists, fighting a losing battle with some darker emotion. Not jealousy, he assured himself. Juniper was free to talk to whomever she chose. It was merely that she chose to talk to this man, his enemy.
He realized, belatedly, that he needed to turn away and disappear before they saw him. Because if Slovenka saw the way he now stared at Juniper—like a lovesick idiot—he would know, he would understand she was somehow meaningful to John.
He pivoted and strode away, but too late. Three long strides later, he heard his name on her lips. And his idiot heart flipped with the knowledge that she had walked away from Slovenka to call after him. He was all set to ignore her, a thing which would doubtless enrage her. Confirmation of that rage arrived in the form of a piece of rotten fruit to the back of his head. He stopped short and pivoted again, this time facing Juniper.
She stood in the middle of the aisle of the market. Everyone had apparently witnessed her assault on him because everyone now stood aside, ogling them, even as they gave them a wide berth. They squared off like two actors in a western movie, about to have a duel. And that was how John felt, as if the showdown that had been hovering between them was now about to begin. Juniper realized it too, with more than a hint of panic. He wondered if she regretted her rash act because, as soon as he faced her and planted his hands on his hips, she immediately dropped her offending arm, the one that had hurled the fruit, and tucked it behind her back, pressing her lips together.
“Well, hey, fancy seeing you here,” she said, aiming for polite indifference. Her eyes sparked with amusement, amusement on his behalf, no doubt, dispelling any notion that she was anything less than ornery.
“Now you’re gonna get it,” he said, silky, soft and dangerous.
She squeaked and turned, darting away. Either the crowd of women believed he was a true danger to her or were in on the game because they massed, hiding her as she made her escape. John wove through them with difficulty. Suddenly each of them felt it necessary to reach out and present him with their wares, impeding his progress. When he was finally through the throng of humanity, Juniper was nowhere in sight.
He stood on the other side of the crowd, searching, stilling his senses, trying to use them to locate the lone girl who eluded him. He felt…he had no idea what he currently felt, nor did he actually care to find out. It was enough that Juniper was once again making him feel something unwelcome. And everything he felt was unwelcome, especially in regard to her. She frustrated him, more than anyone in recent or long-term memory. And yet…
“You might as well come out. I know you’re here, and you know I’m going to find you.”
When another piece of fruit landed on the back of his head, he whirled. Juniper stood at the edge of the jungle, leaning casually against a tree, tossing a mango in her palm. “Getting kind of rusty on those tracking skills, Major. Must be because of your advanced age,” she yelled, cupping her hand around her mouth to be heard.
“Who taught you to throw like that?” he yelled in return. Unlike her, he had no need to cup his mouth. His voice boomed from so many years barking orders.
“I’m lookin’ at him,” she called.
He shouldn’t grin at that, shouldn’t encourage her—not that she’d ever needed encouragement to find trouble. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. “Girl, you need a whoopin’,” he called in return.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” she returned.
He took a step toward her. With a squeal, she tossed the mango in the air and disappeared into the thick foliage. John debated the merits of chasing her. He had too many things to do today, actual work for which he was being paid. But he was tempted, a little too tempted to pursue.
Slowly and with effort, he made himself turn away from the temptation that was Juniper Dunbar. And found everyone in the market staring at him with a matching grin of delight. He sighed. This little interlude had absolutely ruined his credibility as a staid army commander. On the other hand, it had likely done far more for community relations than any market day purchase he might have made. They seemed to be waiting on him to say something. He rolled his eyes and wound his finger around his ear. “La mujer esta loca.”
One of the women clucked her tongue at him. “ El amor enloquece a las mujers. ” Love makes women crazy.
John swiveled his attention back to the jungle. Of course Juniper didn’t love him; she barely knew him. She was cuckoo for other reasons, by nature of being a Dunbar.
The woman had eased closer, getting the unexpected drop on him while his mind was on Juniper. She reached out and tapped his temple, drawing his attention back to her. “Y los hombres tambien.” And men, too.
“No hay problema,” he told her, holding up his hands in surrender. Not him, he would never be in love.
The woman grinned at him. “Palabras famosas.” Famous words.
John walked back to camp shaking his head. Maybe all women were insane; maybe they were all in on it together. Good thing he was in no danger of succumbing to their ways.