Taste of Love: A Romance Sampler

by Susan Connell

  Chapter 3

  She was easy to find.

  No surprise. With those take-me-to-heaven legs, her impatient attitude, and a command of Spanish that wouldn’t get her through Taco Bell, a dead detective could have tracked her down. Reilly still said a prayer of thanks when he found her in the lobby bar of the Hotel de San Remo the following afternoon. He got himself a beer, then started toward her past the bank of potted palms and the cage of squawking parrots.

  Intent on the map spread out over her table, she didn’t see him coming. That was fine with Reilly. This way he had a few more moments to match his memory with the reality of Allison. At first glance she looked like an advertisement for Barbie Goes Camping with her perfectly tailored khaki shorts outfit, the pink scarf knotted at her neck, and a pith helmet dangling from her chair post. Smiling, he slowed his pace, then stopped completely. She was toying with the end of her French braid, brushing it back and forth against her cheek. How she managed to parlay that innocent gesture into an act of eroticism was beyond him. At least mentally beyond him. Quietly cursing his growing arousal, he pulled on the inseam of his trousers before continuing to her table. Dropping his hat beside her, he waited until she raised her eyes.

  "Mind if I sit down?"

  The large map she was holding crumpled slightly in her grip. If she was hesitating, it was only to straighten that aristocratic spine another ten degrees. "Yes, I’d mind. I’m expecting someone." With her gaze returning to the map, she reached for his hat and handed it back to him.

  Sitting down, Reilly dropped it in his lap and took a swallow of beer. "Who?"

  "A tracker named Ramon Quintero, if that’s any of your business." Then, apparently annoyed with herself for revealing that much, she folded her arms and looked away. "What do you want, Reilly?"

  Ignoring her question, he squinted in exaggerated surprise. "Ramon Quintero?" With a long, low whistle Reilly leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs. "Are you sure you want to hire him? He’s a lousy tracker and a worse guide. I heard he lost his last two clients down in Madre de Dios."

  Shaking her head, she gave him an indelicate snort. "I told you, my mind’s made up." Smoothing the map, she began studying it again. "I’m not leaving until I find Tony, so you can forget trying to scare me away."

  Taking a slow breath, he blew it out quietly as he picked at the edges of his beer label. The longer Reilly knew her, the more he realized how determined she was to get to her goal. As determined as he was to get to his. He stared at her, hoping to discover a weak spot in her composure. After a while she checked her watch, then looked toward the door.

  "I’m sure you didn’t fly down here just to ruin my afternoon. Why don’t you get on about your business and I’ll get on with mine."

  If he’d had any misgivings about his plan, they’d vanished when Allison had mentioned Ramon Quintero. Before Ramon took her money, everyone in the city, including El Diablo Timber, would know about an American botanist named Tony Church wandering around in the rain forest. And Reilly could say good-bye to his carefully tended low profile for Taylor Pharmaceuticals. He hated to think how quickly El Diablo would move its logging operations into that part of the rain forest, ending the chances of it becoming a pharmaceutical-research preserve. And besides all that, Ramon Quintero would take her for a swing in his hammock whether or not she was a willing participant. Dropping the front legs of his chair to the floor, he plunked his beer bottle down and reached for her hand. "Allison?"

  Since he’d appeared at her table, every second had been a struggle not to stare at him. It was hard enough fighting back the memory of their kiss while she was breathing in a mix of his clean male scent, his cold beer, and his new cotton shirt. Now he was touching her hand and quietly speaking her name. Her full name. Achy heat was spreading up her thighs when she turned to look at him. "What is it?"

  "I came looking for you."

  "Why?" Because you couldn’t get that unfinished kissing business out of your mind either? Because you woke up last night throbbing with the need to take it farther, to take me farther? Swallowing the unvoiced questions, she asked instead, "Have you heard from Tony? Did he come back to the Paradise Hotel?"

  "No. I was thinking over how things got out of hand up there between you and me." He heaved what sounded like a reluctant sigh. "I was wrong and you were right. Tony Church deserves to know he’s going to be a father. I know where we can cross paths with him, and if you’re still interested, I’ll take you to him."

  "Oh."

  Withdrawing her hand, she tried to dismiss the vague feeling of disappointment. Of course this wasn’t about that kiss they’d thrown themselves into or the touchy-feely moments that she had allowed him. This was about something far more important than the pursuit of hot sex. Wasn’t it? She eyed him skeptically; something was going on behind those gorgeous green eyes of his. Maybe this was a complete turnaround for Reilly. Maybe he was more responsible than she’d originally thought. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe if she thought about it for one more second, her head would explode.

  "Reilly, why would you do this for me?"

  "I’m not doing this for you. Tony deserves to know."

  She waited for him to blink and revert back to the cocky, confident Reilly Anderson she knew. He was holding a steady gaze while a crazy energy continued building between them. Agitated by her own indecision, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Who’s running the Paradise Hotel?"

  "Reverend Phillips is doing the cooking. The Bartolino sisters are sharing chambermaid duty in exchange for part of their bill. And Mr. Garfield is off on another Elvis lead."

  She wasn’t going to comment on his irresponsible behavior concerning his hotel. She had plenty to think about already. "I don’t know what to say. First you tell me to go home, and now you’re telling me you’ll take me to Tony." Shaking her head, she dragged her finger across her lip, then pointed at him. "No, there’s something else going on here," she said firmly. "You’re not telling me everything."

  Reilly squirmed forward in his chair. "Can’t a guy just change his mind and admit he was wrong?"

  "You’ll have to come up with something more convincing that that."

  "Like what?"

  They both heard someone crying Reilly’s name before she could answer. Chico came running through the door, sobbing hysterically and looking frantically in every direction.

  When he saw Reilly, he broke into a run across the room and threw himself against Reilly’s shoulder. The empty lobby echoed with the Spanish he managed between broken breaths.

  Allison was on her feet and around the table instantly. "What is it? What’s happened to him?" she asked, pulling the pink scarf from around her neck and shaking it out. She managed to wipe Chico’s nose and made a quick pass at his tears before he buried his face against Reilly’s chest.

  "I brought him down to visit his father and the kid just missed him. Sounds like the timber company he works for sent him to a camp upriver yesterday."

  She lifted her head slowly, then backed away. "You flew him down here to visit his father?"

  Cursing himself, Reilly patted the boy’s shoulder, then brushed the straight black hair away from his eyes. "Yes, but I should have brought him down sooner." Reilly lifted the boy’s chin on his finger and spoke soothingly in Spanish.

  The words meant little to her, but Reilly’s compassionate tone curled around her heart. Soon the boy’s heaving sobs quieted to an occasional shudder. She stared down at both of them. "How about a Coke, Chico?" she asked softy.

  "He likes it in the can," said Reilly, his eyes never leaving the boy’s. "Right, Chico?"

  Without turning around, Chico nodded. "I’ll open it myself, lady."

  She headed for the bar, realizing her challenge had been answered. Reilly’s actions with the disappointed child had turned out to be far more convincing than any explanation he could have attempted. When it came right down to it, Reilly Anderson had a heart as big as a teddy bear.

  By the t
ime she’d returned from the bar, she had a new plan ready for them. "Reilly, where exactly is this timber camp?"

  "Up by Pucalli."

  "Is that anywhere near Tony?"

  Reilly stared at her for a long time, then nodded. "Yes, it is."

  "Great," she said, handing Chico the soda. "If you’re serious about taking me to Tony, we can take Chico with us when we go."

  "Can we go, Reilly? Can we?" Chico asked, tugging on Reilly’s belt and splashing soda on his pants.

  "You bet," he said, standing up to inspect the extent of the damage. When he saw it was minimal, he folded the map and dropped it on the table. "Just as soon as we can get you two a couple of backpacks."

  "Oh, I won’t need a backpack," she said, waving off the suggestion and sitting down. "Everything fits nicely into my suitcases."

  "You’re only taking what you can carry on your back. Choose wisely. We’ll be gone at least a week."

  She came off her chair like a bouncing ball. "A week!"

  "At least a week," he said, placing her pith helmet on Chico’s head. "Let’s get going. We have some shopping to do." He tossed a few colorful bills on the table, then headed for the door with Chico in tow.

  "But you said you know where he is," she said, picking up her map and purse, then racing to catch up with them. "Why will it take so long to get to him? What’s he doing up there?"

  "Because we have to take a riverboat. After that, it’s deep jungle. And what he’s doing up there is his business. By the way, we’ll be on foot for a day. Maybe two. Think you’ll be able to handle that?" he asked as they stepped into the late-afternoon sunshine.

  The magnitude of what she agreed to began sinking in. Up in the jungle with Reilly… for days. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking and had to hurry through the heavy foot traffic along the boulevard. "Of course I can handle it. As long as you don’t decide to make it a race," she said crisply.