“You’re growing into a young woman,” he said bluntly. “You and I have to adjust to that.” He hoped by using Morgan’s words that he could help Ari feel a little more confident about herself. A little more sure. Ben had never seen such a flighty, uncertain person as Ari. He blamed it on the unexpected death of Janis and then her mother. Despite their age difference, Ari and Janis had been very close. And Ari had almost given up on living after Janis died. She was just a shadow, no, a mouse who ducked and dodged her way through life, running to the safety of her dream world.
Trying to quiet her spontaneous outburst, because she knew her father disapproved of effusive emotional displays—touching him with her hand or, heaven forbid, hugging him around the neck—Ari asked, “Is all of that for me?”
“Yes.” Ben held up the packet. “I talked to an old friend of mine today. He knows someone—a guide down in Manaus—who is going to help you.” Ben did not mention that Rafe Antonio would also act as her bodyguard, because he knew Ari would instantly rebel. Let his daughter think she was on her own. He placed a color fax in her hands. “This is a photo of Rafe Antonio. He’s a forest ranger near Manaus. He’s got a camp three hours east of there on the Amazon River. I’ve hired him to help you hunt for your orchids. You can stay at his camp, which is near one of the Indian villages he takes care of.”
Awed and stunned by her father’s help, Ari held the paper in her hands. The man in the photo wore a short-sleeved khaki shirt with some kind of emblem on the sleeve. He was standing languidly on what appeared to be a very old, beat-up houseboat. She could see a wide, muddy river behind him. The Amazon? She hoped so. He was so tall and athletic looking as he rested his elbow on top of the wooden pilot house. His face was square, his skin a golden color, his hair short and jet-black. His eyes were filled with laughter, and the wide smile showing his even white teeth made her smile in turn. He looked like an adventurer. Ari’s heart began skipping wildly. Rafe was terribly good-looking, in her opinion. Was he married? Did he have a lot of kids? Ari thought so. He looked married.
“He has a kind face, Father.”
Ben snorted. “You’re just like your mother, Ari, thinking you can look at someone’s face and know him.”
“Sure you can.” She saw her father frown in disapproval. Lately, she’d been getting awfully mouthy around him. Normally she kept such thoughts to herself. Ever since the desire to go to the Amazon had taken hold of her soul and heart, she couldn’t keep the words, her true feelings, from spilling from her lips. Cringing inwardly, she saw the censure in his eyes.
“This man is to be trusted,” Ben said with an effort. He didn’t want Ari to know he was a mercenary in the employ of Perseus. Otherwise she would become suspicious. He had carefully extracted the info from the paperwork he was about to give her. “I’m leaving his résumé and curriculum vitae with you. You can read it on the flight down to Manaus. He’s got a degree in biology. Where he works, there’s plenty of orchids to keep you happy.”
“Wonderful!” she gushed. “Oh, I’m so happy, Father. Thank you!”
“I don’t approve of you going down there, Ari. Don’t mistake what I’m doing. I’m very disappointed you aren’t taking that job on Wall Street which I worked hard to get for you. You think life is easy. You think you can just traipse off on this airy-fairy dream of yours. You never took journalism in university. You need to do that if you want to write a book. And you don’t have a degree in art. I don’t know why you think you can create a book of orchid sketches with text and actually sell it.” Raking his fingers through his hair, he pinned his daughter with a dark gaze. She hung her head and avoided his eyes, as always.
“I’m doing this for you because I know you’ll do it anyway and I’d prefer you had my help. And dammit, I don’t want to see you floundering around in a foreign country, in a strange city, trying to find someone who can help you hunt for orchids. Chances are you’d be robbed, killed or worse, kidnapped, and I’d get a call for a million-dollar ransom to get you back. No, Rafe Antonio is in place because I want you as safe as you can be on this jaunt of yours.”
Pain filled Ari. “I—I understand, Father.”
“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” he demanded, barely keeping the anger out of his voice.
Looking from side to side, still afraid to meet his eyes, which Ari knew snapped with frustration, she said, “I don’t really know. Mom said it would take at least three to six months to find enough orchids to fill a book. And then I’d need to go to New York to talk to publishers, get them to buy it.”
Ben sat there helplessly. “Six months? You’re going to be in Brazil for six months?”
“I don’t really know, Father. It could be more or less. Mom figured it would take about thirty orchids per book. If I can find them sooner, I’ll be back sooner.”
“The sooner the better,” Ben growled. He flung his hand toward the packet of information he’d tossed on the coffee table in front of them. “Read through the stuff. Antonio has a recent photo of you. He’ll know you on sight. He’s going to meet you after you get out of Customs at the Manaus airport.”
Nodding contritely, Ari felt like crying. She was going on the adventure she and her mother had plotted and planned for months. During the last year of her mother’s life, when she had been sick with leukemia, Ari had spent hours sitting on her bed, writing notes on the dream trip her mother yearned to take—but never would. That didn’t stop her mother from imagining every day of it, however. And now Ari wanted to live that diary she’d filled with her mother’s dreams. She wanted to fulfill them even if she couldn’t draw or write very well. Ari was sure she’d never get the book sold, but she was going to try because it had meant so much to her mother, who had never had her dreams fulfilled. Ari was only sorry her father didn’t understand why she had to go to the Amazon.
“I’ve got to leave,” Ben said abruptly, and stood up. He rebuttoned his suit coat, smoothed his tie into place and gazed down at her. Ari seemed so fragile. Her skin looked so delicate that he could see the fine veins beneath her large, expressive blue eyes. In a robotlike motion, he reached out and briefly touched her sagging shoulder. “Have a good flight tomorrow, Ari. Call me when you get to Manaus?”
“Sure,” she murmured. His touch was so brief, like a butterfly landing and leaving. Ari ached to have him pull her into his arms and embrace her in farewell. She quelled her own desire to fling her arms around him again. He seemed so embarrassed and uncomfortable when she did it. Crossing her arms against her chest instead, she kept her distance.
Ben pulled out a package from the inner pocket of his coat. “Here, a going away gift, Ari. Use it frequently.”
Surprised, she took the gold-foil-wrapped gift, which sported a red ribbon. “Oh!” she gasped, and quickly sat down, tearing at the wrapping. When she opened up the long, rectangular box, she saw it held a phone. Looking up, a question on her face, she saw her father smile benignly.
“That’s an Iridium phone—the latest technology available. It cost three thousand dollars. Use that to call me anytime. It hooks up to satellites directly. Cell phones don’t work down in the jungle where you’re going.”
Touched, Ari gently put the gift on the couch. Against her better judgment, she threw her arms around her father. He was so tall! So strong and stalwart, when she felt none of those things about herself. Pressing her cheek against his chest, she sobbed, “Thank you, Father. Thank you…for everything….”
“Here, here,” Ben growled as he gripped her upper arms and eased away. “Now don’t go getting mushy on me, Ari. Buck up. And don’t cry. I can’t stand women crying.”
Sniffing, Ari swallowed her tears of joy. “Okay, Father.” She gave him a quick smile. “I’ll call you when I land at Manaus.”
“Yes,” Ben said sternly, “you’d better.” He jabbed a finger toward the fax photo of the mercenary. “And I want to know that you’ve hooked up with Antonio. Do not leave the airport unless he’s there. Do you unde
rstand?”
Ari tried to look appropriately contrite as her father went through a three-minute list of what he did and did not want her to do when she reached Manaus. Hands folded in front of her, unable to meet his eyes, she simply bowed her head and listened, as she always had. But her brain and heart were elsewhere while her father harangued her. Every time she stole a look toward the coffee table and saw Rafe’s picture, her heart leaped like a wild gazelle. Why? Ari was stymied. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. She was sure he was married. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy how handsome he was. She’d look, but not touch. Ari would never think of liking a man who was married. She held marriage sacred. Besides, she had been a wallflower, with few dates coming her way in university. Most men saw her as a weak-willed little thing incapable of holding their interest.
Still, when her father finished his list and headed toward the door, Ari brightened considerably.
As she quietly closed the door behind him, she sighed with relief. She’d won. She’d taken her first stand with her father and won. Her heart wouldn’t settle down, she was so excited. Walking back to the couch, she eagerly sat down and looked through the rest of the information on her guide. Ari was stunned by his impeccable academic credentials. He’d gone to StanfordMedicalUniversity and gotten a Ph.D. in biology! He was more than just a “forest ranger” as her father had said. Much more. Stanford’s medical school was one of the top in the world for medical doctors and scientists. Obviously, Rafe was a scientist.
That thrilled her. He’d have a wonderful knowledge of her beloved orchids. Because he lived in the Amazon, he would know the species and varieties. As she quickly perused his résumé, she noticed he was single and twenty-nine years old. Single? She picked up the photo of him, stunned by this revelation. How could someone as drop-dead handsome as this man be single? That didn’t make sense. Ari told herself he was probably divorced. Surely a man of his caliber, his looks and courage would have found his soul mate by now.
Rafe Antonio looked like a Spanish explorer from the sixteenth century, a world-conquering hero. The fax didn’t give details of his facial features or the all-important eyes. Eyes, to Ari, were indeed the window to a person’s soul which was probably why she was unable to meet most people’s eyes—she felt excruciatingly vulnerable when she did. As if the person staring at her could look directly into her heart and soul. That kind of vulnerability was something Ari experienced twenty-four hours a day. She had no way to turn it off or protect herself.
But Ari didn’t feel vulnerable now; she felt strong and alive. Unable to still the happiness that was palpably flowing through her like a river flowing over its banks in a springtime flood, she leaned back, closed her eyes and pressed Rafe’s picture to her heart. Oh! How wonderful she felt! At last she was going to get to fulfill her mother’s dream. How many books had they read on the Amazon? Ari remembered how her mother had read aloud to her as a seven-year-old. How she’d loved to hear her voice, for her mother knew how to make even the dullest book interesting, make the words come to life. Opening her eyes, Ari sobered a little. Yes, she was fulfilling a dream, but she feared she would never be able to draw the orchids well enough, or provide good text for the book.
“I have to try,” she told herself fiercely, her words echoing around the room. Looking up, she gazed at a huge oil painting her mother had done of the Phalaenopsis, or moth, orchids. The petals really did look like moths’ wings, she mused. The colors were rich and deep, from an elegant white orchid with pink luscious lips, to a pale yellow one and a vivid purple one. Their green, glossy oval leaves provided a fitting backdrop for the hanging spikes in the painting. Yes, there was no question that her mother was an exquisite artist. But Ari wasn’t going to try and pretend that she was too. All she’d take with her to the Amazon was her sketchpad and her trusty set of colored pencils.
“Tomorrow, Ari, you’ll be on your own for the first time….” And she was. She’d done everything her father wanted up until now. She’d gone to university. She’d lived in Georgetown and remained near his townhouse in the nearby suburb of Alexandria. Ari had been a faithful daughter to him by coming over to visit and making him dinner two or three nights a week. She’d been there for him as her mother might have been, if she’d lived. No, tomorrow was a brand-new chapter in her life and she knew it. Fear wound around her heart, yet Ari couldn’t stop the excitement she felt. At last she was going to make her mother’s dream come true…with the help of Rafe Antonio, a man who looked more like a Hollywood star than a forest ranger.
Chapter Three
Ari tried to balance her soft gold leather purse on her left shoulder, along with two pieces of luggage, as she hurried out of Customs at ManausInternationalAirport. She was late! When wasn’t she? It was a terrible habit that seemed to dog her all her life. Voices of people anxious to meet their loved ones sounded around her as she stumbled along, most speaking Portuguese or Spanish. She heard very little English. People of all skin colors milled about or moved slowly through the narrow hallway that led into the receiving area.
Had she worn the right clothes? Though it was spring in North America, it was autumn here. Trundling along, Ari wished she were taller. At five foot six inches, she melted into the crowd of men, women and children who moved good-naturedly but sluggishly forward, elbow to elbow. How would Señor Antonio be able to find her? Anxiety rose in Ari. What if he missed her? In her damp hand, she clutched the fax with his photo. He was supposed to be tall. That was good, at least.
Heart pounding with excitement and trepidation, Ari tried to stand on tiptoe. In her sensible, dark brown oxfords it was fairly easy to do. Colors were everywhere. The people of South America looked like colorful birds to her, their clothing bright and patterned with elements from nature, such as flowers and trees. The odors in the air ranged from spicy perfumes to the tantalizing scents of food cooking somewhere in the terminal ahead of her. The level of excited expectation she felt keenly within the crowd matched her own.
Where was Rafe Antonio? Anxiously, Ari peered around. People were jammed ten deep along the cordoned-off area for passengers coming out of Customs. The faces of the awaiting families buoyed her spirits. Happy cries drifted over the tumult and she felt as if she were standing in a waterfall of languages, the air rent with the joyful calls of friends and family to the arriving passengers. The glut of people ground to a halt every time one of the awaiting families rushed forward to greet a loved one.
Ari found herself glued front and back to people who had patiently stopped to allow others ahead of them to greet one another. Everyone seemed highly tolerant of the practice. Around her, people were smiling. She relaxed somewhat. If this had been a North American airport, people would have pushed forward, elbowing their way out of the crowd. Not here. Ari marveled at the generosity of the people here and found her anxiety abating.
Standing on tiptoe again, she searched the masses of people. The crowd crept forward and she eagerly stepped along. It stopped and she pushed herself up on tiptoe once more. There! No…Well, maybe…At the very back of the crowd a man was standing. He was spectacularly handsome, his head and shoulders rising above nearly everyone around him. Rafe Antonio was supposed to be six foot five inches tall—a basketball player’s height, in Ari’s mind. Yes, this man was tall. Gorgeously handsome. Could that possibly be her guide for the coming months?
The man she was gazing at had tousled, windblown black hair, one dark lock dipping across his broad, golden forehead. He was wearing sunglasses which gave him the aura of a movie star. But the sweat-stained, short-sleeved khaki shirt he wore told her this was no movie star, but a man not afraid of hard work. The shirt was open, and dark hairs curled across his chest. Ari liked his square face and the strength of his jaw. His mouth was relaxed, the upper and lower lip the same thickness, with the hint of dimples surrounding them. He had a nice, kind mouth, Ari decided.
This man couldn’t possibly be her guide. He was far too handsome, far too abo
ve the crowd; someone so confident in himself that Ari didn’t dare think that he was, indeed, her mentor. Yet she liked the way he stood—relaxed, yet alert, his broad shoulders thrown back, his chin lifted regally. Oh, if only he was her guide! Ari giggled to herself. Her father would just die if he could get inside her head! Looking down at the picture in her hand and then standing on tiptoe once again, Ari wasn’t sure. She hoped it was Rafe Antonio. He looked like he’d just come off the Amazon, sweaty and dirty, but that didn’t deter her, nor did his unshaved face. It only made him look that much more of an adventurer, dangerous to her vulnerable emotional state.
Something niggled at Rafe as his gaze raked over the crowded airport terminal. He was a man used to picking up subtle sensations around him. Sometimes his life had depended upon such perturbations of warning. Yet this wasn’t a danger sensation, but something else he couldn’t put words to. The fact that he couldn’t quite pinpoint it made him uncomfortable. A sizzle of anticipation wound through him. Every once in a while he’d catch sight of someone with blond hair bobbing up and down in the dense crowd. He couldn’t quite catch sight of her, except for that cap of sunlight she wore. Was that Arianna Worthington? The rich socialite daughter of the secretary of the Navy? His instincts told him yes.
The thought made Rafe move closer, although he tried to tell himself he couldn’t care less about this woman he had to babysit for Morgan. Oh, he’d tried to talk Morgan out of the assignment. Rafe didn’t have time for rich young women who were out on a lark. His business was deadly serious and dangerous. He needed someone like Arianna right now like he needed a choke collar around his neck. Life in his region was unsettled and dangerous. Rafe didn’t want to take time tending to the needs of a norteamericana who had never been in a jungle in her life.
He didn’t try to elbow his way into the pack of awaiting people. Instead, he made his way behind the crowd, toward the exit. Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his stained and dirty khaki trousers, he smiled to himself. By meeting her at the airport filthy and unshaved, he hoped that she’d turn tail and run back to the States. He had been working on the houseboat engine, at the wharf, for six hours before having to come here. In the steamy, humid heat, he’d sweated plenty, adding to the dirt, grime and grease. He knew a lot about rich women, and Rafe figured that this one would find him absolutely repugnant. Hopefully, she would refuse to go anywhere with him because he looked like a filthy pig with no manners.
Man of Passion Page 3
