Just Trust Me…

4

A WAITER ESCORTED them to a quiet, secluded alcove in the back room of the nearly deserted restaurant, ensconcing them in a privacy that felt both warm and intimate. Once seated amongst the richly colored Andean textiles and exposed Inca stonework, Brett pretended to study the menu, but in reality he was studying the woman seated adjacent to him.

She’d removed her straw hat, revealing a sleek, glossy cap of chin-length auburn hair that his fingers itched to touch. He was debating the wisdom of giving in to the urge when she raised her gaze from the menu. “Have you decided what you want?” she asked.

You. In so many ways it’s making my head spin. “You mean from the menu?”

He really liked the heat that flared in her eyes. “Yes. For now.”

And he also really liked that she wasn’t shy. And that she clearly felt this same strong attraction as he. Setting down his menu, he said, “My Spanish consists mostly of silent gestures.” He demonstrated by nodding yes, shaking his head, then mimed asking for the check. “How’s yours?”

“Also pretty basic. I can say, ‘Where’s the hospital?’ ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ and ‘I need a policeman.’”

“Clearly our priorities are different because my two basic phrases contain the words cold beer and hot food.”

She laughed. “Between the two of us we have the necessities covered. You teach me your phrases and I’ll teach you mine.”

“I don’t know. Yours are all about asking for directions, which is something men don’t do. Do you know anything useful like-” he reached out and lightly entwined their fingers “-‘My dinner companion has the softest hands I’ve ever felt?’”

Her breath caught at the contact, then her lips twitched. “I’m afraid not. But I do know that pizza means, well, pizza, and that queso and tomate mean cheese and tomato, so I think I can order us a decent meal without too much trouble.”

“Excellent. I’ll leave the dinner order in your capable hands. Knowing my luck, I’d end up ordering something like sautéed earthworms by mistake.”

“I understand they serve those on the trail to Machu Picchu,” she said with a teasing grin.

“Thanks for the warning.”

She placed their order to the smiling waiter by pointing to the items on the menu she wanted. After he departed, Brett made an exaggerated eye roll and said, “Well, I could have done that.”

“Uh-huh. And we’d have ended up with sautéed earthworms.” She glanced down to where their fingers remained lightly joined, and he followed her gaze. Her hand looked remarkably small and pale and smooth next to his, and the sight of their entwined fingers looked stirringly intimate. And utterly arousing. His fingers bore dozens of pale scars from nicks and cuts and burns, mostly from childhood chemistry experiments. Luckily he’d gotten smarter and more coordinated as he’d grown. When he raised his gaze, he found her studying him.

“Care to share why your life’s out of balance?” she asked in a light tone. “If you tell me, I’ll tell you.”

He leaned forward and gave in to his craving to touch her hair. It was as silky-soft as it looked. “Okay,” he agreed, already deciding to offer up the very abridged version. “But you first.”

Kayla pondered for a few seconds, then decided to give him the full story, hoping that if she were open with him, he’d reciprocate. Reaching with her free hand into her bag, she pulled out her U.S. Weekly Review then opened it to the No Change, No Gain article and pointed to the first paragraph.

“‘Sex, love, career, family, friendships, marriage,’” she said, quoting the words. Then she looked at him. “Every one of those is, in some way, out of balance for me.”

He raised his brows. “Please tell me you’re not married.”

“I’m not, but my older sister, Meg, is getting married next month and I’m the maid of honor. Have you ever heard the term bridezilla?”

“No, but it doesn’t sound good-like a cross between a bride and Godzilla?”

“That’s exactly what it is, and it’s not good at all. This wedding has been in the planning stages for over a year, and to put it bluntly, it’s a nightmare that has turned my already type-A sister into a crazy person. She’s micromanaging every detail to death and driving everyone insane over the most ridiculous things-at least they seem ridiculous to me. I mean, does it really matter if the color of the cocktail napkins is eggshell instead of ecru?”

“Wouldn’t seem so, but then, I wouldn’t know eggshell from hot pink, so I’m not a good person to ask.”

“She calls me constantly to talk about the flowers or the photographer or the caterer or her future in-laws or how Robert-that’s her fiancé-isn’t helping her.” She shook her head. “They’re both lawyers and could argue the paint off the walls. Personally, I think Robert’s just tired of arguing, which is saying a lot.”

“So you’re saying I’m not missing much by being an only child.”

She laughed. “I love both my sisters, but there are definitely days when I wish they’d lose my phone number.”

He scooted his chair closer and lightly massaged her hand with both of his. “What’s your other sister like?”

“Hmmm…that feels nice.” Her eyes drifted closed. “Reeaally nice. What was the question?”

He chuckled and kept on massaging. “Your other sister.”

“Oh, right. Cindy is the youngest. Last week she pulled off an incredible trifecta. She graduated from college, announced she was moving to Los Angeles with her actor boyfriend, Jason, who just scored a minor part in the James Bond flick about to start shooting, and that she’s pregnant.”

“That is quite a triple play.”

“You have no idea. She’s been calling every day to ask for baby advice, as if I have any. Although, I have to admit I’m pretty excited about being an aunt. Not so with Meg. The news sent the bride-to-be into hysterics because now not only is she afraid that Cindy won’t fit into her Vera Wang bridesmaid dress, but she’s upset that everyone will be talking about the pregnancy and Jason’s movie role on her big day. She calls me hourly, alternately crying and complaining. I’ve taken to putting her on the speakerphone with the volume waaay down.”

“You might do better to just unplug the phone.”

“That’s next. Then there’s Mom. She can’t decide if she’s more distraught that Cindy is pregnant without, as she puts it, ‘benefit of clergy,’ or by the fact that she’s going to be a grandmother, which she claims she’s far too young to be. She calls several times a day to discuss either the wedding or the baby. When she isn’t talking about one of those things, she’s playing matchmaker, trying to set me up with every single man she can find.” Kayla blew out a huff of laughter. “Between the three of them calling me constantly, it’s like I’m caught in a Bermuda triangle of telephone agony.”

“No offense, but it sounds like you’re the only sane one in the family.”

“Only on days when I don’t answer my phone-which is becoming more and more frequent.”

“Where does your father fit in?”

She paused for several seconds, then said, “He doesn’t. He died five years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. He was a great dad.”

He nodded back toward the magazine. “Well, that explains about marriage and family.”

“Friendships, too. Believe me, remaining friends with my family has been challenging lately.”

“What about career?”

She hesitated, not certain how to explain without slipping up and giving away too much. “I’ve worked very hard to get where I am in my company, and I’ve always enjoyed my work. But lately, I’ve become…disenchanted with many of the people I’m working with. I’ve found them shallow and lacking in character.” Again she hesitated, then added softly, “It’s made me wonder if perhaps some of that hasn’t rubbed off on me.”

“You don’t seem shallow to me.”

“Says a man who’s known me all of two hours.”

His fingers lightly brushed over hers, the feathery touch pulsing heat up her arm. “True, but I’d be willing to bet that I’d say the same thing two hours from now.” He studied her for several seconds, his expression serious. “But I know what you mean. When you find yourself surrounded by superficial people, it’s easy to fall into that trap. To lose sight of yourself. And your goals.”

She nodded, surprised that he’d hit it so precisely. “Yes. That’s it exactly.”

“But your strength of character shows in that you recognize yourself falling. And you’re taking steps to change direction, to get back to where you want to be. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself for taking a slight detour.”

“This sounds like the voice of experience talking.”

A slight frown creased between his brows. “I guess it is.” His thumbs brushed slowly over the backs of her hands, a hypnotic gesture that lulled her into a pleasure-filled trance. “So that leaves love and sex,” he murmured. “Surely you have men begging for your company.”

“You know, you’re extremely good for my ego.”

“Just calling it like I see it. Bad breakup?”

“You can’t have a breakup unless you have a relationship, and my last one of those ended six months ago after I discovered we held polar opposite views regarding monogamy.”

“What’s your view?”

“At the point we were in our relationship, I felt it was essential. He was equally adamant it was optional. He claimed he loved me, but didn’t love only me. I decided he could love as many women as he wanted-but I wasn’t going to be one of them. Since then, my love life has consisted of a parade of really, really awful first dates.” She shuddered. “If you strung them together, they’d be a bad movie entitled Jerks, Egomaniacs, Cheaters and Other Assorted Whackos I’ve Recently Dated.”

“How can a guy cheat after only one date?”

“He cheated on the date. With one of the waitresses. In the ladies’ room. I recognized his shoes under the stall door. Based on the animal grunts, they were exchanging more than phone numbers.”

He winced. “Ouch. That’s really low. Makes me embarrassed to belong to the same gender as someone who would do that.”

She forced her attention from the magic his long, strong fingers were wreaking on her hand and wondered if he was sincere. He certainly sounded as if he meant it. “Definitely ranks as one of my worst first dates.”

“This first date is going very well,” he said.

“Is this a date?” She found herself holding her breath, waiting for his answer.

“A nice restaurant, a cozy, private alcove all to ourselves, a beautiful woman…feels like a date to me.”

Yes, it did. And she wasn’t really certain how she felt about that. Certainly it was unexpected. As was his effect on her. The last time a man had made her feel like this…like she’d been struck by lightning, was…never. “Well, this is definitely an improvement on the date with the guy who boffed the waitress in the bathroom,” she said lightly.

“Thanks, but that isn’t a high benchmark to exceed.”

“True. But if you claim to need the restroom, I’ll be mighty suspicious.”

“Not to worry. You have my full and undivided attention. Where are you meeting these losers?”

“Losers? Oh, no, my friend. They’re the best Manhattan has to offer.”

“Present company excluded, I hope.” He turned over her hand and traced his fingertip slowly around her palm, shooting fiery tingles up her arm and evaporating her concentration.

She had to swallow to find her voice. “Um, yeah. So far you’re way ahead of the Bathroom Banger.” And suddenly the thought of a hot, sweaty bang in the bathroom sounded really, really good. And far too tempting. And not her usual style. Certainly not with a man she’d just met.

Hey-it’s not as if he’s a complete stranger, her inner voice interjected.

Hmmm…very true. Even though they hadn’t met, Brett Thornton had been on her radar screen for the past four months. She had an entire file on him, filled with scientific articles he’d written-the technical aspects of which had glazed her eyes-and information about his education and professional life, but little regarding his personal life. Up until now she hadn’t cared to know.

But that was before she’d discovered that he could make her entire body flush hot with a single look. A single touch. It was definitely time to know more about this man whom she was envisioning naked-and liking what she saw. And to find out if her touch affected him as strongly as his did her.

“I’ve kept up my end of the bargain,” she said, slipping her hand from beneath his. “Now it’s your turn. What in your life is out of balance?”

Brett carefully considered before answering, surprised by his strong urge to tell her the entire story. He’d come all the way to freakin’ Peru to partake in an extreme adventure, one he hoped would exorcise the poison of the last few months. He sure as hell hadn’t come here thinking he’d be anxious to talk to a stranger about what a mess his life had become. Then again, he hadn’t thought he’d be anxious to begin an affair, most especially not with just the sort of woman he’d sworn to himself to avoid-one who had Fifth Avenue written all over her-but here he was, hot, bothered and aching.

He was about to speak when she settled her hand on his leg, just above his knee. His heart ricocheted for a few beats, pumping heat through him. When she’d said it was “his turn,” she’d obviously meant in more ways than one.

After taking a long swallow of water, he looked pointedly down at where her palm rested on his bare knee then said, “God knows I’m game, but I feel it only fair to warn you that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to remain focused.”

Mischief danced in her eyes and her fingertips skimmed down his shin. “Turnabout is only fair.”

“I only touched your hand. So you’ll owe me.”

Her eyes darkened in a way that let him know she wasn’t averse to paying up, and what felt like half the blood in his body rushed to his groin. He shifted to relieve the ache and stretched out his leg to offer her freer access. And hoped he wouldn’t forget how to speak English.

“Ever hear of that expression ‘be careful what you wish for because you may just get it?’” he asked.

She smiled and circled her fingertips behind his knee. Holy crap. She’d barely touched him and he felt as if he were about to spontaneously combust. “Of course,” she said in a smoky voice. “I’m hoping it will apply to me and winning the lottery.”

With an effort, he shook his head. “Just trust me…you don’t want to say those words out loud.”

“Hmmm…I’ve found that when people say ‘just trust me’ I probably shouldn’t. Are you saying you won the lottery and that it sucks-’cause I’d have a hard time believing that.”

A hard time…thanks to her slowly roaming fingers, he knew all about a hard time. “Not the lottery. But after years of research, I reached a personal and professional goal. Sort of a scientific breakthrough.”

“That sounds like a good thing.”

“I agree. But I found out very quickly that a lot of bad stuff came with the good.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes-which he nearly missed because her fingertips brushed beneath the hem of his khaki shorts, glazing his eyes over. “Everyone suddenly wanted in on your breakthrough,” she said, and he thanked God his hearing was still operating. “Professional jealousy and all that.”

“Um, something like that, yes. And, like the person who wins the lottery, I suddenly found myself with lots and lots of ‘friends.’”

Her eyes twinkled. “Ah-ha. So you did win the lottery. Are you sure I won’t try to hit you up for a loan?”

“If you keep touching my leg like that, I’m apt to give you anything you want.”

Her fingers slid a bit higher on his leg and he sucked in a breath. “Good to know,” she murmured, drawing slow, drugging circles around his inner thigh.

“But to set the record straight, I didn’t win the lottery, and you’d be sorely disappointed in my bank balance.”

“So then these false friends are trying to ride your professional coattails and share in your glory?”

He nodded even though it was only half of the problem, the other part being the relentless pursuit by the cosmetics companies, but her touch was rapidly depleting his ability to prolong the conversation. “I felt as if I was being pulled in a dozen directions, and I was losing sight of what was important. Of who I was and what I wanted. I needed to get away. Far away. Clear my head.”

“No change, no gain.”

“Exactly.”

“So what other aspects of your life were out of balance?” she asked.

“Family and friendships are fine, and since I’m not married, that’s not an issue.”

“What about love and sex?”

“I’m completely unattached.”

Deciding two could play at this game, he leaned forward and reached beneath the table to lightly grasp her ankle, enjoying her quick intake of breath. “And one of the first people I meet is from the same city I just flew nearly four thousand miles to escape. Unbelievable.”

“Sorry. If I’d known you were trying to escape all reminders of home, I wouldn’t have said hello.”

He stroked his fingers up her silky calf, a move she answered by stroking her palm higher up his thigh. “If you hadn’t said hello that would have been my very great loss.”

“Maybe not. I think I probably would have said hello anyway.”

“Why’s that?”

“Fishing for compliments?”

He slipped his hand over her knee. “Shamefully.”

Her gaze roamed his face, then said softly, “Something about the way you were sitting there, your expression. You looked…” She shook her head. “I’m not sure how to describe it other than to say that you looked how I felt. Glad to be here, yet somehow…lonely.”

He studied her eyes and his stomach seemed to swoop downward, as if he were falling. Which, crazy as it sounded, was precisely how he felt-as if he was in an emotional free fall. He’d gone from zero to lust to halfway in love with this woman in a millisecond.

“I was lonely,” he said, softly stroking her knee, “although I hadn’t even realized it. But I’m not anymore.”

“I’m glad. But I would have said hello to you anyway because I also thought you were really cute.”

“Right back at ya. Except I don’t think cute really does you justice.”

“Oh? What would you say does?”

“Fishing for compliments?”

“Shamefully.”

After considering for several seconds, he said, “You possess an abundance of millihelens and microhelens.”

“Whatever that means.”

“You’ve heard of Helen of Troy?”

“The woman over whom the Trojan War was started?”

“That’s the one. It’s said that her face launched a thousand ships. In the Troy system of units, a millihelen is the amount of beauty required to launch one ship. A microhelen is roughly the amount of beauty needed to motivate one sailor.” His fingertips skimmed behind her knee. “You possess enough of both to launch an entire armada of ships and motivate an entire army of soldiers.”

A slow, sexy smile curved her lips. She tickled her fingertips across his thigh and he damn near forgot how to breathe. “Thank you. Looks like I’ll be giving you some more points for originality.”

“Excellent. How can I earn a few more?”

“You could dazzle me with some interesting scientific facts.”

“One square inch of skin contains six hundred and twenty-five sweat glands.” He edged his hand higher under her skirt and slowly traced his fingers up her thigh. He noted with satisfaction that her own fingers stilled on his leg and her pupils dilated when his fingers drew leisurely figure eights on her exquisitely soft skin.

“I believe it,” she murmured in a breathless voice. “I feel like every one of mine is pumping steam.”

Without taking his gaze from hers, he rose, then gently pulled her to her feet. Hidden in their private alcove in the back room, he drew her into his arms and slowly skimmed his hands down her back. “In the adult human body, there are forty-six miles of nerves. The most sensitive cluster of nerves is here…” He lightly massaged the small of her back, urging her closer, until their bodies touched from chest to knee. “At the base of the spine.”

“Fascinating,” she murmured, skimming her hands up his chest then looping her arms around his neck. “What else?”

“Minks have sex that lasts about eight hours.”

“Oh…my.”

“Moose intercourse usually lasts about five seconds.”

“Note to self…would much prefer to be a mink.”

Leaning forward, he nuzzled the warm, smooth skin just below her ear with his lips. God, she smelled delicious.

“Bats have sex in the air.”

She breathed out a sigh then tilted her neck, affording him better access. “Sounds…adventurous.”

His teeth lightly nipped her earlobe. “A female praying mantis devours her partner while they’re mating.”

“Mmm. Depending on your definition of devour, that could also sound adventurous.”

“A female ferret can die if she goes into heat and can’t find a mate.”

Her fingers fisted in his hair and with a groan, she tugged his mouth towards her. “I know exactly how she feels,” she said in a husky whisper against his lips.

His mouth covered hers in kiss that drained every thought from his head. He’d intended to kiss her gently, seduce her slowly, savoring each touch, but the instant their lips met, a flash-fire reaction the likes of which he’d never before experienced sizzled through him, incinerating him where he stood.

She tasted as seductively delicious as she smelled, and, with a low growl, his arms tightened around her. He stepped backwards until his shoulders hit the wall, then he spread his legs, settling her in the V of his thighs, pressing her tighter against his erection, and feasted on her lush mouth, while his hands roamed restlessly up and down her back.

His tongue mated with hers, an erotic friction that quickly depleted whatever control she hadn’t already stolen. His hands skimmed over her lush curves, settling on her bottom. She shifted against him, dragging another growl from his throat. His hips involuntarily thrust into her feminine softness, and he knew they needed to stop this now…before he stood in real danger of not being able to stop at all.

Expending an effort that required all his will power, he lifted his head. Breathing hard, he looked down into her flushed face. Her hair was beautifully messed from his impatient hands, and with her lips parted and moist from their frantic kiss and her eyelids droopy, she looked sinfully aroused and sexy as hell.

Her tongue peeked between her lips, a flick of pink that spiked his temperature another few degrees. She blinked twice, a look of utter confusion filling her glazed eyes. “What was that?”

He shook his head, feeling as bemused and jumbled as she looked. “Damned if I know.”

“I…I’m at a loss to explain being so carried away.”

“Scientifically, I’d describe it as an instantaneous exothermic reaction.”

“Which means what, to those of us whose brain cells seem to have melted?”

“Basically, it’s a very fast, strong reaction that gives off heat-like when firecrackers explode.”

“Yes, that explains it very well. Although I’d have just called it ‘magic.’”

“Magic works for me.”

“Exactly what sort of science is your specialty that you know all this?”

He tucked a stray strand of shiny auburn hair behind her ear. “Chemistry. The study of matter and the changes that it undergoes…or what’s happening between us.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“I don’t suppose you know how to say ‘Can we get our meal to go?’ in Spanish?”

“No, but adios means goodbye. Probably if we said that, the waiter would get the point.”

“I’m willing to give it a try.” His hands lightly kneaded her bottom and every reason why he didn’t have the time or inclination for a relationship melted under the onslaught of heat between them. Relationship? his inner voice scoffed. No problem-this is just sex. Part of his mind instantly disagreed, but he ignored the warning.

Swallowing a moan of raw want, he said, “We either need to stop this or get out of here now. I know which one gets my vote. How about you?”

She looked at him with those beautiful green eyes smoldering with arousal, with the same wild need racing through him, and his heart performed a crazy rollover maneuver.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “Now.”