9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  Tino pulled his thoughts back to the terrace and the means to get him near the dig. Moonlight glistened on the blade of the knife hanging from the doctor’s bag.

  “How did you get the knife?” He hated to bring up something that obviously upset the woman, but he needed to know everything about the mishap. Anything illegal usually was connected to the drug trade, making it his business.

  “My clumsiness helped for a change.” She shook her head slowly as if not believing her own words. “I was-am—exhausted. The man insisted the box was his. I planned to take off my backpack and prove the box had nothing he wanted. Only the weight of the pack and my irritation caused the bag to slide down my arm, swing, and whack the knife out of his hand and throw my box to the concrete. It popped open. But my vest wasn’t inside, it was—” Her wide almond-shaped eyes continued to seek answers. “He grabbed the contents and ran away. Leaving the knife behind.”

  Do I look sincere? Will she believe I’m one of the good guys? He needed to know what was in her box. Tino laced his voice with sincerity, “I will not pass on anything you say to the authorities.”

  Her head tilted as she continued to peer at him. “How do I know Virgil-Dr. Martin hired you? You could be a part of any of the illegal activities I read about in this country.”

  “True. But do you think I would have stated who I was in front of the others if I had plans to kill you? I sat in the chair in the lobby long enough the clerk can identify me should something happen to you. And the taxi driver…that is not his profession. He’s policia.”

  Dr. Mumphrey’s eyes widened, and her full lips opened, giving rise to thoughts he shouldn’t harbor about the woman. She was his ticket into the jungle around the dig and nothing more. If he let their relationship wander into anything other than guide and ticket, they could both end up jungle casualties.

  “You knew he was the police? How? And why didn’t he tell me?” Her hand clutched her throat. “Shamutz! I showed him the knife! And told him about the missing contents.”

  Tino straightened in his chair. He couldn’t cross examine her without reawakening her suspicions. “Not all the policia are bad. I do not know which side of the law he is on, but if he withheld from you that he was policia, it is good you did not tell him too much.” Had she mentioned the wrong contents in her box?

  She nodded and sighed. “I don’t know what to do. My package was used to smuggle—” Her shoulders rose and fell as she ran a finger around the lens of the camera on her lap. Indecision wrinkled her brow and she pursed her lips.

  He didn’t want to press and appear too interested, but at the same time he wanted to help. And the only way to help was to know what they were dealing with. “What was supposed to be in the package?”

  “My survival vest. Instead there were passports. At least a dozen.” She glanced up, her green-gold eyes beseeched him. “Why did they use my box to smuggle in passports?”

  “I do not know.”

  He shook his head. There could be more going on at the dig than perhaps even DEA knew.

  Chapter 3

  After the day she’d had, Isabella accepted the guide’s offer to walk her up to her room. She sneaked furtive sideways glances as they climbed the stairs side-by-side. He was handsome in a roguish way.

  “Be in the lobby at eight.”

  His deep, soft voice with an unmistakable Latin accent fluttered her stomach.

  She nodded and stopped at the door of her room. Before she could slip the key into the lock, his fingers closed around her hand.

  “Allow me to unlock the door and take a look.”

  His hand holding hers and the intensity of his eyes stole her words. She didn’t like the implication but nodded and relinquished the key.

  “Stay here.” He grasped her shoulders and set her to the side of the doorway. The lock clicked, and he disappeared into the room.

  Gathering her wits, Isabella stepped into the room behind him. Moonlight filtered through the thin curtain, highlighting his silhouette as he searched the closet, the balcony outside the window, and under the bed. Cool air from the air conditioner met her at the same time as its droning hum.

  “What are you looking for?”

  He snapped to attention and stalked toward her, stopping when his toes nearly touched hers. “I told you to wait outside.”

  “And I asked you what you’re doing.” She wouldn’t back down. If someone was out to get her, she had a right to know who and why.

  “Looking for unwanted creatures.” He grasped her hand turned it palm up and dropped the key.

  Her arm tingled. One by one he closed her fingers around the key, his gaze locked on hers. Heat vapors like the Arizona blacktop slithered up her neck and scorched her cheeks.

  “Eight.”

  The husky timbre vibrated her stomach. He released her hand and disappeared out the door.

  The curtain rustled. Isabella spun and stared at the closed door, clutching the key in her fist. The man did things to her body with just his voice. She shouldn’t trust him, but there was something about him that gave her comfort. Deep down her gut told her that was dangerous and she’d end up hurt.

  She tossed the key on the table and stripped. Washing with a cloth and basin of water her thoughts turned to her guide. Tino Kosta. He was definitely not of Mesoamerican descent. He didn’t have the classic flat facial features or dark coloring. His features were more European in appearance—less native. A Ladino. Someone of European descendents that traveled to Central America to make their fortune in coffee or some other export, married a local, and stayed. His dark blue eyes, while showing mirth at times, remained blank. As though he feared his secrets could be read in his gaze. His full black brows, shaggy black hair, and stubble shouted he didn’t use his looks to get what he wanted. No, his demeanor didn’t reflect a man who made a living escorting people about the jungle. He came across as a man on a mission. His name had Latin and Greek origins. How had he become a guide in Guatemala?

  His accent affected her like no other male voice. The timbre, softness, and lyrical qualities…she pressed a hand to her quivering belly. But he’d conversed in front of the taxi driver with a definite emphasis on appearing not as well spoken, while alone with her, his English had been flawless and heady with that sultry accent. So many questions.

  She slipped into a clean tank and panties and under the lightweight bedding. The raucous noise from a bar or party reminded her of trying to fall asleep during college parties in the dorm. But the long day and monotone of the air conditioner’s drone took hold, and she drifted to sleep within minutes.

  *~*

  Street noises and the soft glow of sunshine awakened Isabella. Stretching, she glanced at her wristwatch. Seven-thirty. Her stomach rumbled. Tino hadn’t mentioned whether they’d grab a bite to eat. She didn’t linger in bed or in her thoughts. Today, she would experience her first jungle excursion. Her rumbling stomach fluttered with anticipation. The only other digs she’d worked were in Arizona. This was her first big trek into another country and another biosphere. Excitement bubbled out in a gleeful laugh.

  Isabella stepped into khaki pants, tucked the cotton ribbed tank she slept in into the waistband, and cinched her belt. She grimaced at the small cut in her skirt before she rolled it up and stuffed the garment into the bottom of her bag. She shoved a pair of wool socks in her boots, and then situated the footwear and a long-sleeved shirt on top of the other items in her backpack. The extra apparel would be handy when they hopped in the boat to head down river. Before that, riding in a car, there would be no need for the extra clothing to ward off mosquitoes. She slipped into her sturdy walking sandals.

  With the knife tucked into the side of her bag for easy access, she slung the backpack over her shoulders and headed out the door.

  In the lobby, she found Tino lounging in a chair.

  “You are ready early.” He reached out to take her backpack.

  She shook her head. He may have sounded convincing last nigh
t, but she’d hidden her passport, identification, and traveler’s checks in her bag until she bought a new vest.

  He dropped his hands and motioned for her to exit the building.

  “I’m starving. Can we get something to eat before we head out?” She stepped out the door and spotted a dirty truck parked in front of the hotel.

  “I packed food and beverage.”

  Isabella raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t going to fall victim to Montezuma’s revenge.“Purified?”

  “Sí. I do not tolerate the water around here any better than gringos.” He opened the passenger door on the truck.

  Isabella climbed in. A duffel bag sat in the middle of the seat. She placed her bag on the floorboards and squeezed her feet in beside it. Tino climbed in behind the steering wheel. She studied him. If he cleaned up, his sultry eyes, sun-bronzed complexion, and Anglo features could grace the cover of any men’s magazine. She pictured him on GQ dressed in a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and white slacks with loafers and no socks. The image sent a warm wave of desire rippling across her skin.

  She’d better get her romantic thoughts turned. They’d only bring her hurt just like before. “I’ve already determined you aren’t from around here. How did you become a guide in Guatemala?”

  He revved the motor and shot away from the curb. “I have been a drifter and just landed here.”

  His off-handed remark sparked even more interest.

  “Where all have you drifted?” Her stomach growled louder than her voice.

  “The duffel on the seat has food.” Tino’s attention remained on the road as they wove their way through shacks made of anything the occupants could get their hands on to keep out the heat and rain.

  Isabella focused her attention on the food in the bag rather than the hungry-looking children. Her heart ached to roll down the window and dole out the food to the unhappy faces. Her father always found fault with her generous—though he called it tender—heart.

  Her fingers wrapped around a warm foil package. She pulled out the foil, then bananas, mangoes, and avocadoes she found nestled together in the duffel.

  “Keep digging. There should be queso fresco wrapped in a banana leaf.” Tino’s gaze strayed from the road to the pile of food she’d placed on the seat beside her.

  “There’s enough food in this bag for the town.” She found the leaf bundle. Her fingertips grazed something cold and hard. Curious, she ran her fingers over the object.

  A hand gun.

  Shivers slithered up her arm and centered in her chest. If Tino was part of the group who used her to transport passports, he wouldn’t have allowed her access to the bag with his weapon, would he? She shot a glance his direction as her heart raced. He was relaxed, unconcerned about her rummaging in his bag and finding the gun. In the jungle, it made sense a guide would have a gun. Her racing heart slowed, and she chastised herself for thinking he was anything other than the guide Virgil hired.

  His voice registered as he reached toward the bag.

  Isabella jerked the bag back, but not before he plucked a banana. Air squeezed out of her lungs. She didn’t know which would have been worse, him reaching for the gun or finding her clutching the weapon.

  “W-what?” She worked to focus her mind on what he said and not the unhealthy direction her thoughts had spiraled.

  “We need enough food to get us from here to the dig. It could take two to three days depending on the rains.” He stared at her, one dark brow raised in question.

  Could he tell she’d found his weapon? Should I just come out and ask him about it? Bravery had never been her strong suit, but directness—she had that by the boat load. She slipped her hand back into the bag and withdrew the gun.

  “What is this for?”

  He glanced her direction. Annoyance flashed in his eyes, but his body didn’t tense. Tino shrugged. “There are creatures in the jungle that only respect modern weapons.”

  “Do you plan on using this to force me to give up my valuables, or worse, my organs?” In her experience, bluntness always shocked the truth from people.

  He rolled his eyes. “¡Carajo! You are one paranoid señorita.”

  “I’m usually more trusting, but after my encounter yesterday, I’m not sure who to trust. I’d think you could understand. You have all the right answers about the dig and about Dr. Martin, but I’ve also read all the warnings about this country.”

  His lips formed a straight line, and his gaze drilled into the highway ahead. “Put the gun away and eat. I am not here to harm you. I use the gun to tranquilize jaguars. Traveling about as a guide, I also tag the cats for the government.”

  Isabella settled the revolver back under the clothing. His lack of agitation over her discovering the weapon and his nonchalant comment about her paranoia led her to believe he was the guide sent by Virgil. The bit on the end about tagging jaguars… Everyone knew they used rifles for tranquilizing. Her guide had secrets.

  She opened the foil and found a stack of tortillas. The scent of the warm corn rumbled her stomach even louder. “Do you want a tortilla?”

  A muscle on the side of his jaw moved under the scruff of dark whiskers as he chewed his banana. Again her mind took up the puzzle of her guide. His demeanor and speech spoke of education, yet he dressed low class.

  Tino’s seductive dialect cut into her musings.

  She hadn’t heard a single word he said. “What?”

  “After I finish this, I will take a tortilla.”

  The evening before he’d lapsed back and forth from refined language skills to more native sounding words. This morning, he was all refined. This guide Virgil sent piqued her interest in many ways. She didn’t back down from a challenge, and dissecting Tino’s background the next two days would be a good distraction from the anticipation of what she would find at the dig.

  Isabella unwrapped the banana leaf and found a mildly aromatic white cheese. She crumbled some on the top tortilla, rolled it up, and took a bite. The tangy cheese and sweet tortilla made her mouth water and satisfied her stomach.

  “Have you been to this dig before?” Tino asked, tossing his peel out the window as they sped down the highway.

  “No. Virgil—Dr. Martin—called me ten days ago and requested I come down. He needs my help to decipher a tablet.” She already owed Virgil so much. He’d encouraged her curiosity about her Native American roots, and then helped her enter the graduate program at a young age.

  “Decipher a tablet?” Tino glanced at her, his eyebrows arched in question.

  When asked about her life’s passion, even if he held a gun to her head, she’d talk.

  “He discovered a Mayan tablet that he believes holds great worth and knowledge for the Mayans. But he needs my help. My thesis was on Mayan symbols.” Electric jolts of excitement zipped up her spine. She shoved the last bite of the tortilla in her mouth and dug through the side pocket of her backpack for her journal. Every scrap of information she’d discovered in a Hopi dig that resembled the Mayan culture was written in this notebook. As well as all her notes on Mayan symbolism.

  “I’ve written four papers on Mayan symbols and language using what others have uncovered.” She stared at her notes and drawings.

  “So this is your first trip into the jungle?” His condescending tone suggested he considered her a tourist.

  “I’ve read everything ever written about this area and the Mayans.” She glared and challenged him to test her.

  “Books cannot prepare you for the first time a caiman snaps at you, a howler monkey makes the hair on the back of your neck tingle, or the constant buzz of the mosquitoes hoping to snack on you.” He sent her a lopsided smile that slipped her irritation down only a micron.

  “I’m sure I’ll be startled the first time I see or hear these, but I assure you I am not some scaredy-cat.” She wouldn’t tell him about her aversion to bats. From her research on the area, they were her greatest fear. The flying mammals filled her with unfathomable t
error.

  “Speaking of cats, you ever come face to face with a jaguar? Now there is a beautiful creature.” His voice dropped an octave and made her wish he spoke of her in such an ardent fashion.

  “No, I’ve only seen photographs.”

  Tino rolled up his right sleeve. Two long raised red marks ran from his elbow to his wrist. “I did not get one big female knocked out completely when I tagged her.”

  “I didn’t think they attacked humans?” She stared at the red raised slashes on his muscular arm.

  “They usually do not. But she did not care for me straddling her and injecting something under her skin.” His eyes lit with excitement. “We rolled around for some time before she ran away.”

  “Were you scared?” Her admiration for Virgil’s choice of escort escalated.

  “At first, but her breath reeked, and there was still hair in her teeth and blood on her lips. I struck her on the nose hard, and since she had a full belly, she left me alone.” He glanced at the food beside her. “I will take a tortilla.”

  Isabella studied him. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and merriment in their dark blue depths gave rise to the assumption he made the story up. Was he a good con-artist or was he playing with her gullibility? Virgil always said her naïveté would get her in trouble.

  “¿Tortilla, por favor?”

  She dropped her gaze to the food, dug a corn wrap from the foil, and crumbled cheese on it. She rolled the tortilla and handed it to him. Their fingers touched and her gaze jerked to his face. Was that a smirk on his lips? His touch and nearness jostled her insides like a fast ride on a teeter totter.

  Isabella peeled a banana and took a bite. The flavor outranked any banana she’d eaten in her life. Eating fresh picked fruit would be a treat on this expedition. She stared out the window and noticed a large plume of dark gray smoke beyond the dry lowlands.