by Style, Linda
“Oh, that’s so good!” She licked the garlic from her lips. “Spicy, but not too spicy. It tastes a little like lobster.” She stabbed another and poked it into her mouth.
“It is, but smaller. Langosta means lobster but these are actually more like crayfish. Langoustines. They’re little crustaceans, prepared with garlic and basil. This dish has a bit of extra spice.”
As he spoke, his eyes sparkled with mischief…and suddenly her mouth was on fire. She grabbed her beer and guzzled the rest of it.
He laughed heartily. “You’ll get used to it. Want another beer?”
She nodded, then started laughing, too, releasing all the pent up tension of the day. After that, the conversation was easy and natural, and as the night wore on, the music and party atmosphere rose to a fever pitch, and Jillian couldn’t help moving with the rhythmic beat as they polished off the plate of appetizers and then shared steaming platters of food, drinking and laughing all through the meal.
By the time they finished and caught a cab back to their hotel, her face hurt from laughing so much and Jillian felt light-headed from all the beer. She couldn’t remember ever having such a fun evening.
Adam was a tough man to figure out. On one hand he seemed thoughtful and kind, a man who liked children, but on the other, he purported to be a loner who wanted nothing to do with marriage and family.
As they walked to her room, a sobering thought hit her. If she’d never had such a fun evening, what did that say about her marriage?
When she unlocked the door to her room, Adam touched her shoulder, moving her behind him, then he told her to wait while he checked out the room. When at last she went in, she asked, “What was that all about?”
“Force of habit.” He shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. Now, lock up after me, okay?” His eyes caught hers then, but he quickly looked away.
Her pulses quickened. She wished he’d stay just a little longer, wondered how he’d react if she asked him to. “Why? Do you think I’m in danger?”
He smiled. “No, but if I stay any longer, you might be.
CHAPTER NINE
JILLIAN AWOKE AT 5:00 A.M, stretched and kicked off the sheet.
It was too early yet to be hot, but her body glistened with sweat and the sheets felt clammy and moist. But, for the first time since she met Adam, she’d slept like a rock.
She’d enjoyed their dinner so much that even her reservations about Adam lying to her had faded. Later at her door when he’d joked she might be in danger if he stuck around, she’d been as flustered as a teenager wondering if she’d get a good-night kiss. Heat reached her cheeks just thinking how stupid she was.
Good grief. Patti was right. She really did need to get laid.
Before getting out of bed to tackle the shower, she allowed herself the luxury of another stretch and was struck by the importance of what she and Adam were going to do today. They were off to confront the man who called himself Jack Sullivan. The man who looked exactly like her husband. The man Detective Ramsey thought was her husband.
Knots twisted in her gut at the thought. She should be relieved that her search might be over soon. But instead she wanted to flee, to go back home and pretend none of this was happening. Worse yet, her thoughts flip-flopped over what she might find…and what she wanted to find. She’d been telling herself it just couldn’t be true, and yet, here she was.
Some part of her had to believe it was possible or she wouldn’t be here.
And thinking like that was borrowing trouble. There would be time enough to decide later. If events turned out as she suspected, she’d soon be on her way home and her life would get back to normal. Despite the fun she’d had last night with Adam, she liked normal. She needed normal.
Today, the shower worked as it should, and when she was finished, she towel-dried her hair, combed out the tangles and fluffed it with her fingers. Then she dressed in a pair of safari shorts, a white T-shirt with a small stars-and-stripes emblem on the front and opted for her running shoes, instead of sandals, since Adam had said the trip could be rough.
No point in even trying the elevator, she decided on her way past it, and with her wheeled carry-on in hand, she trekked down the four flights of stairs. This time Adam was waiting in the lobby…without his suitcase.
He glanced at his watch. “Right on time.”
“Of course,” she said, as if being on time was normal for her. Chloe had been on the nose with her comment about her mom’s habits.
Adam was wearing khaki cargo pants, hiking boots and a white T-shirt with Mickey Mouse emblazoned on the front. She grinned. “Cute.”
“A present from the nieces and nephews.”
“And you actually wear it. That’s cool. Not all guys would do that.”
“I like it. The kids have good taste,” he answered almost dismissively.
He seemed distant this morning and it caught her off guard. Last night they’d developed a rapport she’d enjoyed and hoped would continue.
“I picked up a thermos of coffee,” he said, “and some stuff from the grocery store. We can eat as we go.”
So much for a nice leisurely breakfast. After last night she’d been looking forward to a little more relaxation. But he was all business. “Are we in a hurry?”
“I don’t want to be searching for a restaurant this early, and I’m not sure what we’ll find along the road. I spoke with the car-rental agent, and he told me we could reach Mirador by nightfall if we don’t run into any problems along the way. But it’s a long haul and it wouldn’t be good to be stuck on the road at night.”
“Any particular reason?”
“The roads aren’t the best. They’re not lit up like the highways back home…and there’s a safety factor.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean, like, bandits?”
“Could be. That’s why I suggested you might want to stay here and wait for me. Still can, you know. You might even be able to snag a room at the other hotel if someone checked out last night. You could lounge around the pool, relax and enjoy your first trip out of the country. Would you like me to call the other hotel and check on it?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me, Ramsey?”
“I think it would be safer if I went alone.”
She clenched her hands. Gritted her teeth. “There’s safety in numbers.”
“It’ll be faster if I go alone.”
“I don’t see why. I think you are trying to get rid of me.”
His eyes narrowed.
Ignoring the look, she picked up her suitcase. “Where’s the car?”
Adam started walking. “On the other side of the hotel.”
She plodded after him, and rounding the corner, she saw a half-dozen cars parked in a line. She followed as he headed toward a brand-spanking-new white SUV. Her spirits lifted. Whether he wanted her along or not, they’d have a reasonably comfortable ride and, she was sure, air-conditioning.
She stopped at the passenger side, but Ramsey kept on walking.
“Madame, your carriage awaits.” He gave her his bright white smile and gestured toward the car behind the SUV.
As she reached it, her heart sank. He stood next to an old Volkswagen bug with a mangled front fender and a passenger-side door that looked as if someone had taken a battering ram to it. Most of the paint, except for the scratched puce-green on the hood, was primer gray.
“So, let me guess. Like the hotel, all the good cars are rented, too?” She glanced inside. Most of the seat padding on the passenger side was gone and what little was left billowed out like dirty hunks of cotton. Through a hole in the floorboard, also on the passenger side, she could see the asphalt.
He shrugged, palms up. “I kind of like it. Reminds me of my first car.”
He smiled again, only this time she detected a bit of smugness.
“You want to reconsider?”
Did he think a little discomfort would make her quit? “Not a chance.” She grabbed the door, swung it open and was about
to chuck her suitcase into the back when she saw the tiny backseat was already full. She gestured to one of the items, a large box. “What’s that?”
“Some stuff I picked up. We’ll have to put your luggage in the trunk so I can see out the rear window.” He grabbed her bag, went to the front of the VW and pulled up on the hood to the trunk, then tossed her suitcase inside. Unable to close the hood tightly, he finally took a rope and tied it down.
So be it. She climbed into her seat and, straddling the hole with her feet, searched for the seat belt. Nada. She should’ve figured as much. Well…it wasn’t likely they’d be going more than a few miles per hour, anyway—if the relic even started.
She steeled her nerves. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Standing squarely in front of the car, he glared at her, then came around, yanked open the driver’s door and crammed his big body into the tiny car. She felt a moment of pity. Obviously he wouldn’t have rented the sardine can if he’d had any other choice.
Maybe he really was thinking of her when he said she’d be more comfortable back at the hotel. But dammit, if he could handle it, so could she. “I’m also ready for that coffee.”
He turned the key and got only a grinding sound. After another attempt, the engine sputtered to life. “The thermos is in the bag in the back, along with some cups and rolls and things.”
Junk food. She almost made a face. But her appetite had grown since she’d arrived here. She’d always heard that appetites were suppressed when temperatures rose, but obviously not so for her. “Thanks. I’m starved.”
She reached around and pulled a grocery bag onto her lap. Inside she found the thermos and two thermal cups. She wondered if he’d brought them along or purchased them this morning. “Would you like me to pour a cup for you, too?”
He shook his head. “I’ve had my fill already. You can be the navigator and man the map, okay? I have a GPS, but once in the interior, the reception may not be good, so you’ll need to follow along on the map as a backup. I circled our location, where we’re going and the roads involved. Just let me know when the next turn is coming up.”
“Okay.”
He waited until she poured the coffee and screwed the lid back on, then he shifted into first gear and the car lurched forward. She stashed the cup between her legs, reached for the map he’d placed on the dash in front of her, shook it out and laid it on her lap. Then she rummaged through the grocery bag to see what fat-laden sustenance he’d chosen.
Powdered-sugar doughnuts. She set those on the dashboard where the map had been. A package of sweet rolls with different jelly fillings and white frosting. She took a deep breath. Okay. Doughnuts or sweet rolls. Blech.
He cranked the steering wheel and veered around a corner as she clutched the bag against her chest and, feeling something weighty inside, dived back into it. This time she pulled out a bunch of bananas and a clear plastic bag with a few other fruits inside, ones she didn’t recognize. “Hey, fruit. Great choice.” She offered him a banana.
“No, thanks. They’re all yours.”
“Really? How…nice of you.” It was. That he’d thought about her preferences at all gave her a warm feeling inside.
“I think you’d better take a look at the map and let me know if we’re getting close to the road that goes to Mirador. That street back there looked familiar.”
She shifted the grocery bag from her lap to the back seat, since she didn’t want it to disappear down the hole between her feet, and then looked at the map. “We turn in about three inches.”
“Oh, man. Now I know I’m in trouble.”
“Just kidding. It’s about three miles before we turn left, then we take a right, and after that another left, and then we’re on the road to Mirador.” She gave him a satisfied smile. “‘The road to Mirador.’ Sounds like an old movie, doesn’t it?”
“Thanks,” he said, ignoring her attempt at humor.
He didn’t sound thankful at all. He sounded cranky and annoyed, and she supposed she knew why. He didn’t want her along. But if he didn’t want her along, why did he buy the fruit and let her think he was being thoughtful?
She was getting mixed messages. She really didn’t know how to take him anymore. It was better when he was just a detective doing his job. Their camaraderie last night changed that for her. Obviously not for him. Didn’t matter, she decided, as long as he got her where she wanted to go.
She had to focus on her goal. If she could. Focusing had always been an effort for her. She was too easily led astray by other interests and ideas. With her business, however, she’d managed the necessary tunnel vision and then forged successfully ahead.
This was no different. She needed to narrow her scope—stop thinking about Ramsey and concentrate on her mission. His being along for the ride made no difference. She peeled a banana and, while eating it, took mental inventory of her Mirador to-do list, then centered her thoughts on what she would do if she found it was Rob.
While she was busy narrowing her scope, the road had narrowed, as well. After a few more turns, they were out of town and the paved road was crisscrossed with ruts and dotted with potholes, and the farther they drove, the worse it got.
Fifteen minutes later, the road turned into a four-foot gravel path that looked as if it’d been cut through the jungle by machete. The car dipped into a hole. She flew upward then slammed back down on her tailbone.
“Ouch! Oh, jeez.” It hurt like hell. She reached around to cushion the jolts with her hand, but all she succeeded in doing was mashing her fingers. She adjusted herself so she wasn’t sitting on the part that was sore, which then faced her toward Adam.
RoboCop just kept on driving, and the car dipped and twisted right along with the road. “What happened to the halfway-decent road we were on?”
He turned his I-told-you-so steely gaze on her. “Want to go back?”
She glanced around, as if looking for someone else, then came back to him. “Are you talking to me? I don’t recall saying anything about going back. In fact, I thought I asked what happened to the better road.”
“So you did. Well, it went the way of all good roads when they head off into the jungle.”
“The jungle?”
“The rain forest. Which is just another word for jungle. Lots of trees, vines, animals, birds, reptiles, snakes and bugs, and the deeper in we go, the worse the roads and everything else gets.”
“So, it’s a good thing we don’t have that far to go,” she said, forcing some perkiness to her voice.
He gave a hearty laugh. “That’s one way to look at it.”
“It’s the best way. If there are two or more ways to look at something, why not take the way that makes you feel better?”
“If you can manage that, more power to you. In my business, it pays to be realistic. People get hurt if I’m not.”
She thought for a moment. “Okay. I can understand that. But your business isn’t your whole life.”
“Wrong. My business is my life. I forgot that once and I didn’t like what happened.”
She wondered what he meant, then guessed he’d been hurt by someone—no, not just any someone—probably a woman he’d cared about. That would explain his aversion to relationships or marriage.
They drove a long time in silence, during which the car bumped and lurched almost nonstop. As the day wore on, the heat intensified, and the cloying sweetness of exotic flowers, some of which looked like orchids, made her nose and eyes itch. She was hot and sweaty, her clothes were damp, and she was pretty sure her hair was frizzy beyond recognition.
“How much farther do you think it is?” she ventured about three hours into the trip. “Maybe we should stop and stretch our legs. And if we can find something to cover this hole, I’d be really happy. It’s uncomfortable sitting like this, and I’m afraid we’re going to hit a bump and I’ll accidentally poke a foot through and lose a leg.”
He frowned. “You’re right. I should have thought of covering that f
irst thing. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She couldn’t tell if the remark was one of regret or sarcasm, but preferred the former.
“It’s no big deal,” she said.
The road was so narrow there was no place to pull over, so they stopped in the middle. Since they hadn’t passed another car in all the time they’d been driving, it didn’t seem to matter where they stopped. She reached to open the door, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Wait.” He reached behind the seat, pulled out a sack, then dropped a pair of knee-high rubber boots into her lap. “You better put these on first.” He reached into a bag and pulled out a plastic bottle. “And put some of this on, too.”
“All that just to stretch our legs?”
“Just do it.”
She glanced at the bottle. “What is it and why the boots?”
“Heavy-duty mosquito repellent, and the boots are for protection from the snakes. Be careful where you step when you get out.”
He opened his door, stuck out one leg at a time and pulled on his own boots. Then he slathered the pungent repellent on his arms and face and, after handing her the bottle, unfolded himself from the VW.
She followed suit, making a face at the acrid scent, hoping it would fade after a few minutes. When finished, she repeated her question, “How much longer do you think it’ll take to get there?” Her bladder felt ready to explode. “I think I drank too much coffee.”
As she walked around to his side of the car, he stretched his arms above his head and planted his feet apart.
“If the rest of the road is like this, it’s going to be a while. I’m just hoping we make it before dinner.”
“You’re joking, right?”
He shrugged.
He’d said earlier that they wouldn’t get back to San José tonight, but she’d had no idea the trip itself would take the whole day. “Well, I definitely can’t wait that long.”
