Desire in the Everglades

by Hoff, Stacy

“It fell out of the bag? But how—?”

  “What bag?”

  “What do you mean ‘what bag?’ Jennifer, the receptionist, didn’t give it to you?”

  “I’m sorry, Colin. I never got a bag.”

  “I dropped it off at around four o’clock. She said you were in a meeting. Of course she said a lot of things.” He shook his head. “Teleworld has more than its fair share of nut jobs.”

  She laughed mirthlessly at that. “Yeah. I’ll agree with that all right, although I didn’t know Jennifer had joined the ranks. Oh, well. Anyway, I headed out right after my meeting. I barely even stopped back at my office. Maybe Jennifer still has it.”

  “That’s too bad. I hate when my messages get lost. So here’s another one.” He leaned forward, putting his hand gently over her up-do and drawing her close. “I am going to kiss you,” he whispered in her ear. “Say you want me to.”

  She stared into the depths of his blue eyes. The color reminded her of the water by the mangrove beach. Colin wasn’t there to hurt her. He was there to protect her. Most of all, her heart. “I do, Colin.”

  “Good to hear.” He tugged her gently on the hand until she stood up with him. “By the way, I love the hairstyle. Very pretty. You’re a little confused with the outfit though,” he teased. “I don’t think most women wear high heels with their robes.” Without another word, he untied her belt and lowered the robe to the ground. “Nice underwear,” he said approvingly. “Now let’s get it off.” He picked her up in one easy motion and carried her into her bedroom.

  “I’ve got to go,” Colin said the next morning. He tossed his napkin onto the small breakfast plate and carried it into the kitchen.

  Stephanie felt her stomach clench. “You’re going to meet with Mark, aren’t you?”

  He walked back into the dining area, “Yes. You don’t think I should do the show anymore?”

  “Right,” she answered with a heavy exhale. She walked into the bedroom to finish dressing. Colin followed her in.

  “I’m going to get a million dollars for twelve days’ worth of work. These kinds of deals don’t come often.”

  “I know. But you still shouldn’t do it.”

  “You’re worried about me.” He tilted her head down to lightly kiss her forehead. “Don’t be. I can handle it.”

  “You may not be able to handle it. That’s because they’re setting you up. They’re going to deliberately add extras so the show never has a dull moment.”

  “Extras? What the heck does that mean?”

  “Caged animals they’re going to bring in. Panthers and alligators, probably. They said they’ll be extra aggressive. That’s the meeting I was in.”

  “You’re kidding! Those sons of—”

  “I know. Why do you think I quit?”

  He was quiet for a minute, looking at her with a half smile on his face.

  “You’re creeping me out, Colin. I don’t know what you’re thinking when you have that weird expression.”

  “I’m thinking a few things. The first is, now that I know their trick, I’m going to be prepared. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, too. They want a show, I’ll give them a show. But I guarantee you I’m going to survive. And get the money.”

  “Colin, I can’t keep doing this—setting myself up for heartbreak. If something happens to you, I won’t be able to take it.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he said, kissing her cheek affectionately. “But if something did happen to me on the show, or even afterwards, you’ll be fine. You’re strong.”

  “I am not,” she denied harshly.

  “You are. Think of yourself as the Evergladiator of relationships. You made it through a tough situation with your ex. You survived. You came out a winner.”

  She let his words sink in. Like the show, life itself was a challenging game. And winners always played the risky cards. “You’re right,” she said at last. “But we’re both going to be winners. You’re going to beat them at their game and be the Evergladiator. And you’re going to get the money.”

  “I have to get it. There’s no other choice. Without the prize money I’ve got no way to pay off the debt on my family’s farm.” He surveyed her apartment and frowned. “Steph, it’s my farm I want to go back to. The only reason I ever left home was to save it. Could you ever leave the City?”

  Colin took one look at Stephanie’s furrowed brow and watery eyes and suddenly remembered why she couldn’t leave the City. Her desire to help out her family was as strong, and valid, as his desire to do the same. “Forget it. After I’ve got all the farm’s issues squared away, I’ll move here,” he announced firmly.

  “You’re kidding? You’d do that for me?” she asked in a small voice. “But your life on the farm—”

  “It’s more important to be with you. Wherever you are.” Taking a look at her odd expression, he laughed. “Now you’re looking at me weird. I thought you’d give me a better reaction.”

  “I’m thinking the same thing I was thinking before.”

  “Which is?”

  “You’re wonderful. I knew you were special from the moment Mark showed me your headshot. No, actually my first reaction was just plain old lust.”

  He burst out laughing. “Yeah? Well I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.” He kissed her lips, lingering for a long moment. “Steph, I’ll do anything to be with you.”

  “You’ll even move to the City for me? You’re sure? I don’t want you to be unhappy. But I can’t leave my family behind. My mother—”

  “Your mother needs you, I know. She’s got a lot going on dealing with your father’s illness. Howie can handle everything on the farm. At least for now. With the money I’m going to win, I can fly back when he needs me.” He picked up her hand and kissed the palm. “I’ll adapt to city life. I’m good at surviving anywhere. If I can do the Everglades, Manhattan should be easy enough.”

  “Brooklyn.”

  “What about it?”

  “I want to reduce our expenses. Brooklyn’s much more affordable.”

  “What are you worried about?” He scratched his head, confused. “I can take care of you financially. You’ll need me to, anyway. You just quit your job. I assume you want to go back to writing. It could be a while before you finish a book, and then you’ll need to wait to sell it, and wait even more for royalties. But it’s no problem. I’ve got us covered. Keep your apartment and I’ll move in.”

  Closing his eyes, he did his best to wipe away the vision appearing before him, the one of her closet. Filled to the brim with designer duds on one side, western-style denim on the other. Maybe he should change his look while he was here. No need to be stared at like he were a rodeo reject as they walked down Fifth Avenue.

  “I want to live with you. That will be great. But in Brooklyn. At least until I get another job.”

  “Writing is a job. Why do you need another? I just told you, I’ll pay all our bills.”

  Silence filled the air, looming large.

  “I appreciate the gesture,” she said. “Really. But please understand, if I agree, I’d be making myself financially vulnerable. I can’t depend on anyone to that extent. Ever again. Especially a man. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  He sat quiet for a minute. “I’m going to try not to be hurt by that,” he said, slowly. “I know you’ve been burnt, but Freddie was the fire, not me.”

  It was her turn to be quiet for a moment. “Colin, I trust you more than I ever trusted Freddie. But now I need to trust myself. Know I can depend on me. It’s my own odyssey, just like the Evergladiator is yours. Can you understand that?” she asked softly.

  “For you, I’ll try,” he said, trying not to sound begrudging.

  Geez, women were tough. And this one was stubborn, too. All he wanted out of lif
e was to protect the people he loved. Why the heck did she have to make it so hard for him? Giving was part of his nature. She needed to accept that. She also needed to completely trust him. Understand him, like she wanted him to understand her. If she couldn’t, how could he stay with her?

  Even in civilian life, military principles applied. If they were going to be together, live together, they had to function as a single unit. If you couldn’t trust your partner one hundred percent, you were better off doing the mission alone. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  He’d be patient. Continue making the first moves. “Okay. Brooklyn it is. Just don’t run to give this place up yet. Not until after the show’s over and we can take the time to figure things out slowly.”

  “Yes, of course.” She threw her arms around him, pulling him close.

  He gave her a kiss before releasing her. “Explain something to me—you can sell your books, can’t you? The whole idea is to be published, right?”

  “That’s the idea, yes,” she said, frowning. “But a regular job is a more solid bet.”

  “For who? I’d bet on you any day.”

  “Thanks,” she said, the corner of her eyes watering. “I know you would. The problem is me. I’ve got to learn to bet on myself. One step at a time. I’ve got to continue standing on my own. When I’ve gotten that down, then I can take a bigger gamble with myself. Writing professionally is like free-falling. You’ve got to hope a financial bungee cord saves you from the poverty pit you’ve dived into.”

  “With fancy talk like that, you oughta believe you’re a writer.”

  “I’ll get there. Eventually. I’ve got you to cheer me on along the way.”

  “All the time, babe.”

  “You really mean all this, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I mean it. A box of chocolates never lies,” he said, giving her a wink.

  “Chocolates? What chocolates? What are you talking about?”

  “The package that went with the note.” It looked like he had been insecure for no reason. “When Jennifer told me you weren’t in your office, I left a brown paper bag, with the note in it, for you.”

  “You did?” Her voice sounded high pitched.

  “Yes, baby, I did.” He hesitated. “You’re not mad? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Believe me, I thought I was being discrete, but I technically violated your ‘hide our relationship from the co-workers’ policy. I shouldn’t have done it. I guess I was feeling desperate to see you.” His eyes were downcast.. “Pathetic, huh?” he asked sheepishly.

  “Not pathetic. Endearing.”

  “Glad you think so. I shouldn’t have admitted to all this.”

  “I like your soft side. But I don’t want you to lose your tough side either. You’ll need it for the show.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to retain it.” He pulled her onto the bed and lowered himself on top of her. He stretched her arms over her head and held them together at the wrists with one hand. “Tough enough for you?” With his other hand, he traced her curves. “Of course, cultivating one’s soft side isn’t so bad.”

  “Oh no,” she said in a seductive, throaty voice, “the big, tough gladiator’s got me pinned down. How am I ever going to get out of this situation?”

  He held her chin to look directly into her eyes. “You don’t, Steph. Not ever.”

  “I’m the gladiator’s prize, huh?”

  “You are my prize. I need you to know that.”

  “Trust me, I’m learning.”

  Chapter 24

  Successfully catching a cab in New York City during a rush hour rainstorm was no doubt harder than enduring twelve days in the Everglades. It’d have to be, because cab catching was impossible. Colin got more ticked off with every second that ticked by. Finally seeing a checkered cab with its roof light turned on, he shot his hand in the air and ran to the curb to catch it. A moment later the cab sped by him, dumping a torrent of gutter water on his trousers. Ready to use one of his sailor-endorsed four letter words, he noticed the roof light had the “off duty” message displayed.

  It was high time for deployment—he used the “F bomb.” Giving up his hope for a taxi, he slogged toward the subway. Getting to Teleworld on time to sign the damned documents was going to happen if he had to walk all the way from the Upper West Side to Rockefeller Center. Luckily, a bus pulled up. With a grin, he yanked his umbrella closed and lined up in anticipation. Stepping on a moment later, he pulled out his wallet and handed the bus driver a twenty-dollar bill.

  “Exact change only,” the bus driver said.

  “But I only have twenties.” Damn ATM machines.

  “Then you need a Metrocard. Ya’ got one, or not?”

  “But—”

  “Look, buddy, if you don’t have exact change or a Metrocard, get off the line. It’s rainin’ out here!” shouted an older man.

  “Where do I buy one?” Colin shouted back to the bus driver.

  “You buy it in the subway stations. Nearest one is seven blocks away,” the bus driver answered in unison with the crabby old guy behind him.

  Stepping aside and soaked, Colin fought with his umbrella to open it back up. He ran under the awning of a bodega to pry the stuck mechanism open. Almost worse than having the umbrella stuck was having the abomination in the first place—if any of the guys back in Special Ops could see him with this designer label, kitty-cat adorned device, they’d die laughing. Mike Zameldi would be farting for sure.

  Colin sighed. Military. Days. Over.

  Still, he could keep some dignity. If Steph insisted on girly frou-frou crap like this, he’d buy his own damned umbrellas. Heck, if he’d known it was going to rain today, he would have run out last night and bought a brown one. Now he was stuck using this cat-clad nightmare. And having the pressure of hiding it in his suitcase as soon as he got to his destination. He could only hope the Rockefeller buildings’ security guards wouldn’t insist on opening his bag. There’d be a lot of explaining to do. Maybe he’d tell them he was the “Evercatilator.” No. Not funny.

  Pushing the umbrella’s release button down hard, he finally got the damn thing to open. He dodged out from under the bodega’s awning just in time for a pool of water to dump down on him, dousing the back of his overcoat. Halfway waterlogged and cursing, he trudged the full seven blocks to the subway station.

  When he finally saw the sign heralding the presence of the underground station, he let out a groan of relief and hustled down the stairs, wallet once again at the ready. He took his place in line and waited for the clerk at the window.

  “One way, please,” he said, when it was his turn.

  “I’m sorry, mister, but this window is for information only until they re-stock my Metrocard supply. But you can still buy your Metrocard at the kiosk over there,” the clerk said, pointing across the station.

  “But—”

  “Get off the line, man,” said a teen-aged boy wearing a backward Yankees cap, his pants hanging down past his waist a good five inches. One of his earrings had gold block lettering spelling out “awe.” The other earring, “some.” A Yankees logo belt, presumably worn to coordinate with the cap, hung loosely over his hips. Whether for fashion, or to provide sufficient space for his ample belly, couldn’t be determined.

  “What the heck is with y’all’s manners?” Colin shot back. Upon hearing his southern twang, he cringed. When in doubt, the South came out. “Never mind,” he muttered, making his way over to the kiosk.

  After figuring out the kiosk, he grabbed his Metrocard just in time to see the subway pull up to the platform. Shoving the card through the slot in the turnstile, he pushed his way through. He bounded across in a few large leaps and heaved a sigh of relief when the doors closed behind him. Weaving through the crowd, he found a seat and sat down.

&nbs
p; Victory. It was about time. In his mind, he threw confetti in the air while Kool and the Gang’s “Celebration” blared over loudspeakers. In his reality, he closed his eyes to savor a rare moment of relaxation. New York had been tough on him. Yesterday, a Yorkshire terrier attacked his ankle. He had tried to hurry past twelve of these wannabe Pit Bulls, all bunched together by a single dog walker. Certainly no reason for the hairy rat to turn into Cujo. When it charged at him, however, he couldn’t bring himself to push the animal away with any force. The dog walker glared at him like it was his fault the dog was upset and yanked the terrier away by saying, “Come on, Cupcake, stay away from the bad man.”

  Colin had to grit his teeth to not respond and almost ground his molars down when he saw claw marks on his new slacks. Storming away, he directly stepped into the dog’s remains. Right underneath a sign that read: ‘Please pick up after your dog.’

  All this had actually been better than the day before. A city garbage truck speeding by had a dirty, greasy rag fly off, and onto his face. God only knew what substance the rag had soaked up to smell that bad. The worst part was that it hit his overcoat, too, immediately staining the fabric with sticky, slimy grease. When Colin brought the coat to the dry cleaner, the owner had given a doubtful prognosis.

  Cow “pies” in his pasture back home were a lot less disgusting than piles of dog crap on a sidewalk. Not that he wanted to step in either. And grease from one of his old tractors was practically drinking quality compared to whatever substance had been on that rag. For the past few weeks, he had caught himself daydreaming he was back on his farm. Events like he’d had the past two days brought wishful thinking to the forefront of his mind.

  Shaking off the memories, Colin checked his watch. He should be on time, which was why it always paid to leave early.