9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  She walked into the forest, hunting for a place to have a few moments to herself.

  “Do not go far,” Tino called in his seductive Latin accent.

  She cursed her reaction to his voice, raised a hand acknowledging his order, and tromped deeper into the trees. The murmur of the river faded away in the steady drone of mosquitoes. She slapped at the leaves on the plants and wandered deeper. Rustling in the underbrush shot her heart into her throat. Jaguars were nocturnal weren’t they? A small, furry, pig-like animal trotted across her path, followed by five smaller versions.

  She giggled at her jumpy nerves and the animals’ comical parade as she watched the last one disappear through the greenery. The waning light enlarged the shadows. Reluctance played war with her logical self. She should return to the boat before darkness descended and she couldn’t find her way back. But her pride, something she usually didn’t consider, wouldn’t let her face Tino.

  Not yet.

  It was stupid to believe he wanted to kiss her. Tino was handsome, virile, and so unlike any of the men she’d met during her college days or professionally. Exactly the type who toy with women like me. His chivalry and her attraction to him made her feel attractive, something she rarely experienced. But the way he brushed her off after he’d initiated the kiss... He’d only proved he could kiss her and not that he wanted her. She mentally slapped herself at her stupidity and virginal cravings.

  The walk hadn’t settled her anger. Reliving the event only escalated her rage.

  How could one be a genius yet stupid about life lessons?

  She pulled out what she now considered her knife and hacked at the plants along the way. With each swing she lopped off something of Tino’s. Blue penetrating eyes. Devastating smile. A hand, so good at soothing her. The other hand. Her smile grew, and her frustration turned to the healthy exhaustion of an extensive taekwondo class.

  Isabella wiped a sleeve across her sweaty brow and heaved a sigh of contentment. The vigorous exercise worked wonders on her disposition.

  A fierce roar vibrated through the trees.

  Her heart stopped and air screeched from her lungs. The sound echoed all around her. Ducking, she covered her head with her arms. Her hands shook as she lowered her arms and peeked through the foliage. A second roar, closer and fiercer than the first, filled the air and shivered her skin. Was she surrounded by jaguars?

  The crashing sound of an animal charging through the forest jerked Isabella into motion. She scurried for a tree, wrapped her arms around the smooth trunk, and climbed it like a flag pole. Adrenaline worked her feet faster than her arms, and she lost more distance than she gained.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as the thrashing grew louder, closer.

  The sting of bile rose up her throat. She spit and clung to the tree.

  “Ezzabella! Ezzabella!”

  Through the pounding in her ears, Tino’s muffled call registered at the same moment he charged into her sight. His gaze found her up the tree, and he immediately scanned the underbrush, his pistol mimicking the action of his eyes.

  “What are you doing up there?” he asked, pushing the gun back into its holster. The growing darkness hid the details on his face.

  “A jaguar roared. I was getting away from him.” She used her best indignant tone, but the snicker coming from Tino reminded her she was mad at him. Savior or not.

  “Jaguars do not hunt for another couple of hours. What you heard was a howler monkey.” He stepped to the tree and reached up to help her down. “And a jaguar could climb this tree faster than you.”

  She kicked at his hands and worked her way down the trunk of the tree. The bark dug into her palms and tugged at her clothing. Funny, she hadn’t noticed those things when climbing.

  “How do you know it was a howler monkey? I thought they made…monkey noises?” She kept her gaze averted as she straightened her pack. Rarely did she find something she didn’t know about.

  “This is the time of night they start calling, telling others to stay out of their territory. They call at sunrise, too.” He grasped her hand, leading her through the forest. “I thought you knew all about this area.”

  His joking tone only fueled her mortification. Jerking her hand from his, she swallowed her pride. She had boasted she knew everything about this country. “It seems evident that reading about a place and actually visiting or living there are two different things.”

  He peered at her over his shoulder. “You are a quick learner.”

  Another roar rolled through the canopy. The fierce, deep, guttural growl trembled her insides and she flinched.

  Tino slowed, touching her arm as if to comfort but not fully committing. “That is the howler monkey. He stays high in the trees and is harmless.”

  She nodded, still unable to peer into his eyes. He was being darn nice to her considering she’d fallen apart at a monkey’s call.

  They walked into a cozy camp. A tarp draped across a rope in tent fashion, the corners tied to tree roots. Their supplies were stacked at the far end, and a small gas burner hissed under a pot of water simmering over the blue flame.

  “You’ve been busy.” She eased the backpack off her tired shoulders.

  “It does not take long to set up camp.” He dug into a box and pulled out two packages of dehydrated dinners. He held them up and grinned. “In the jungle we serve only the finest cuisine.”

  She couldn’t stop her quivering face muscles from smiling. His attempt at levity proved more comical than his actual words. His misguided attempt at calming her almost allowed her guard to waver. But not quite. She had to prove to herself she could be civil and not fall victim to his seductive voice. “So, you’re a five-star chef?”

  His deep blue eyes bore into hers. “I am five star at everything I do.”

  Staring into his eyes and knowing he’d charged to her rescue, she believed he was. Her gaze dipped to his lips. His kisses proved more than five star. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed every ounce of her being to shed the memory of his lips. It was a onetime happening. Nothing more and the sooner she let the whole thing go the better.

  Tino swallowed the groan of desire bubbling in his throat when Isabella stared at his lips then closed her eyes. Was she hiding regret? He knew pulling away from her earlier had wounded her pride. But he couldn’t let his body overrule his head. Once he touched her intimately, she would be his responsibility. Once he gave a piece of himself to someone, they became family. And he’d been raised to protect family. He couldn’t worry about her at the dig while chasing drug dealers in the jungle. It was a good way to get himself killed.

  He sliced the meals open and dumped them into the pot of boiling water, glancing at the tent. Two tents would be more appropriate, but he hadn’t expected his client to be a charming, enticing sirena. From the name and occupation he’d been given, he’d expected an old, grumpy woman who would fall asleep way before him and snore.

  Isabella moved away from the fire, untangling her hair. The rain and her trek in the trees had loosened half the strands. Her long, thin fingers worked the braid loose and then combed through the straight auburn tresses. Shimmers of copper reflected the faint glow of the waning light.

  Tino shifted his attention back to the food. Watching her carved her image into his mind and made him want things. Things like running his fingers through the strands to see if it was as silky and tantalizing as it appeared in her hands. He stirred the stew and inhaled the aroma. It wasn’t nearly as fragrant as his mother’s stews.

  A pang of regret pierced his chest. Eight years and he still missed his mother’s cooking, her soft body hugging him, his father’s hearty slaps on the back and praise for his athletic abilities and brains, and his younger brother’s adoration. Grief gripped him, twisting his gut and holding him hostage just as it had the night his abuela called.

  He stood abruptly and paced into the darkness as tears stung his eyes. He missed his family. They had been close. Loved one another without fail.
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  He still remembered the night he received the call at the university. “Augustino, tu mamá, tu papá, y los pequeños, todos son muertos.” His abuela Juanita’s voice had shaken as she told him his family’s small jet had been gunned down by drug runners while flying to South America to visit relatives. She asked him not to take revenge. He had respected her request until four years ago. At his grandmother’s death, he entered the training program for the DEA. He would seek revenge for his family and for his compadre’s son—his godson who had died of an overdose. And for all the other families who lost loved ones to the parasites who traffic drugs.

  “Tino, I think our dinner is ready.” Isabella’s soft voice floated to him on the warm evening breeze.

  He swiped a hand over his eyes wiping away any trace of tears, took a deep breath, and sauntered back to the fire. Isabella had dug two tin plates out of the supply box along with utensils and a beer for him. She’d arranged the items neatly on the covered box.

  “This looks nice,” he commented and sat cross-legged on the ground across the crate from her. She looked warm in her long-sleeved shirt and vest. “You should take your vest off. You look warm.”

  She shook her head. “This is my survival vest. It has everything I would ever need should I become lost.”

  “Does that happen often?” He raised an eyebrow, wondering if he should have let her wander alone earlier.

  “No. In my profession I go to remote areas. I like being ready for any circumstance.” She patted one pocket. “I have first aid items here.” She patted another pocket. “Food.” Another pocket. “Survival equipment. Every pocket has a function.” Her eyes shimmered with confidence, and her sensual mouth tipped into a smug smile.

  “Do you wear that to bed?” He hadn’t meant the words to slip out so intimately. But they did.

  Her eyes widened and she inhaled. “I-I attach it to my backpack, which I use as a pillow.”

  “In other words, you are ready to run at a moment’s notice.” He nodded and picked up the stew, dishing it onto their plates. “I like that. It is a good practice, especially here, when you never know when a drug trafficker or artifact thief could come upon you.”

  She stared at him. “I know there are problems with these undesirable people in this country. Reading the travel advisories is enough to make one think twice before coming. But the Guatemalan government is behind all the efforts to dig up information surrounding their Mayan ancestors. The archeological digs are safe.”

  Tino shook his head. “Do not go to the dig with the attitude you are safe there. As with all countries, there are corrupt people in government. Not all of them have their people’s interest. They only wish to fill their pockets with money.” He cleaned up his plate.

  “I’m sure Virgil has taken precautions to make sure everyone at the dig is there for the right reasons.”

  The faith she put in this man frustrated Tino.

  “The crooked are sly and can cover their tracks. Do not depend on your faith in another to keep you safe. The only person who is looking out for you, is you.”

  She stared down into her plate, scooting the uneaten food around.

  “Eat. Just be vigilant when you are at the dig.”

  Tino picked up a mango. He sliced off one cheek with his knife and scored the orange flesh while Isabella finished her portion of stew. He inverted the skin and fruit handing her half the prepared mango. “Eat this and I will clean up the dishes.”

  “I can help. You don’t have to wait on me.” She started to rise.

  “It is what I get paid for.” His statement, though not true at all, caused a frown to wrinkle her forehead.

  He gathered the dishes and the pot and went to the river to wash them. Crouched by the river, deep in thoughts of how to get through the night knowing Isabella would sleep only inches away, he rocked back on his heels. A branch cracked to his right. His senses sprang alert as he drew his gun.

  His breathing resumed to normal as dark objects dropped from the branches and glided over his head. Fruit bats on the move. Though ugly, they were harmless. He stared across the dark water glittering like diamonds from the reflection of the moon shimmering on the surface.

  A light on the distant shore caught his attention. The only boats on the water as they traveled downstream belonged to locals. He knew for a fact no one lived on the other side at this bend. He’d picked this spot knowing it was a safe place to spend the night from traffickers and locals looking to help themselves to supplies.

  Who camped over there and why? He’d tuck the doctor in for the night and then slip across the river and investigate.

  Tino picked up the clean dishes and headed toward the soft yellow glow of the gas lantern he’d hung from the end of the tent. Isabella must have lit the lamp. It shone like a beacon. If he could see the light across the river, whoever was over there could see this one.

  ¡Coño! Now he would have to stay on this side to protect the doctor in case someone came nosing over here.

  He dropped the dishes. They clattered into the box. Isabella jumped and faced him, her toothbrush protruded from her mouth and light gleamed off her scrubbed clean face. A mosquito cloud hovered above her head. The whole scene should have knocked sense into him. But instead, he felt sucker punched by her purity and tranquil beauty.

  “What?” she asked around the toothbrush in her mouth.

  “Do not take too much longer. I want the light out soon.” He stomped past her and was rewarded with a fragrant whiff other than DEET. A spicy, earthy scent that reminded him of sex. He ran a hand over his face and knelt at one end of the tent. This space was much too small for the two of them. He grabbed his sleeping bag and mosquito net.

  “Why are you taking your bedding out?” Her voice drifted above him.

  Her accusing tone did little to squelch the need flaming his groin.

  “Are you done?” He grabbed the lamp and doused the flame. With luck, whoever the light belonged to across the water hadn’t noticed their lantern yet, or if they had, didn’t have time to judge where to find this camp.

  “Yes. But you didn’t answer my question.” She stood beside him. Her spicy scent twined around his head, arousing his senses even more.

  “Look across the water.” The other light still twinkled like a grounded star.

  “Who is that?” her voice dropped to a sexy whisper.

  Tino swallowed a groan and shook his head. “I do not know, but I would rather they did not know we are here. Go to bed.”

  “Are you sleeping out here to keep guard?” She knelt beside him. Her shoulder touched his and her exotic scent pulsed his blood.

  “Yes. Do not worry. I am a light sleeper and no harm will come to you tonight.” He told himself not to look at her. But his head didn’t listen. His neck twisted, and he stared into her eyes.

  Enough moonlight reflected off the river to sparkle in her eyes and accentuate silver highlights on her high cheekbones. He’d never stared at such kissable lips before. They were his downfall. He leaned, bumping shoulders. His gaze locked on her tongue darting out and wetting lips that called to him like a hummingbird to nectar.

  He raised a hand and smoothed a stray strand of hair from her face. Her head tilted, pressing her cheek into his palm. The heat and softness of her skin, her alluring scent, and full wet lips beckoned.

  He leaned in to taste.

  “Eeeee!” she squealed and shoved him away as she scampered into the tent. “Get it away! Get it away!” Her arms and legs flailed as she flopped around inside the tent.

  “What? Get what away?”

  Tino dove into the tent, ready to do battle. He found nothing other than Isabella and their supplies. He grasped her wrists and flattened her on her back, his body pressing hers into the foam pad.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked, wondering if he’d been about to kiss a woman with a sanity issue.

  “The bat. It was-was hideous! I h-hate bats!”

  Her tense body vibrated.
He welcomed the sensation, sliding his hands up her arms and experiencing the satin caress of her hair.

  “The bats here are fruit bats,” he calmly explained. “Now if that spicy scent I smell were fruity, you might have a problem.”

  Even in the darkness, he felt the weight of her gaze on him.

  “I don’t care if they only eat fruit. I-don’t-like-bats. They’re ugly, nasty creatures that should never have been placed upon this earth.”

  “They have a right to be here, too.” He softened his voice and inhaled her scent. The pressure of her hips against his, her warm breath fluttering against his damp skin, and the realization that her body had grown limp, set off warning signals in his head. This was one time when his body overruled his head. His hands continued to explore her long neck and dainty ears. He hadn’t touched a woman so intimately in a year. That had to be the reason he found it hard to keep his hands to himself.

  She rolled her head slowly from side to side. “No bats.”

  He heard her swallow. Lowering his mouth, his lips hovered above hers. “There is no room for bats in here with the two of us.”

  “N-no room.” Her breathing quickened.

  He wasn’t a saint. Never claimed to be. Fighting his conscience was useless. He ran the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips. She gasped and he captured her mouth. Her full lips were soft, pliable, and so succulent.

  He drew back to change the angle of the kiss, and she followed him. Her eagerness, heat, and clumsiness affirmed his assumption. She was an un-plucked flower. The knowledge hardened his miembro. He pressed against her.

  She gasped, wedged her hands between them, and shoved back, gulping for air.

  Yes, she was a virgin, and he wouldn’t be the one to take her gift even though every nerve in his body was about to explode with need.

  He pushed up to his knees. She remained on her back, one wrist resting on her mouth. If a splash of moonlight could penetrate the small quarters, he was sure he would see recrimination darkening her eyes.