Chapter 2
"Do I look pale?" Jack asked, still reeling from her mention of Ramon Quintero. "It’s probably the, uh, light from these candles," he said, moving them several inches across the table.
Of all the characters Joanna could have named, Quintero was the sleaziest. He had the movements, not to mention the morals, of a jackal. And Joanna McCall was Quintero’s favorite kind of prey—beautiful, lively, and, most tempting of all, alone. Lacing his fingers together, Jack leaned forward in his chair to explain the situation. "Joanna, there’s something—"
Her gaze had drifted across the lawn, but at the mention of her name she turned to him again.
"Yes?"
The alertness in her expression was underscored by a distinct challenge in her tone. A little voice inside Jack’s head made him hesitate before offering his advice. He’d known her for less than an hour. One word, besides beautiful, kept coming to mind every time he looked at her. Determined. She knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t going to be swayed by a few colorful anecdotes about the guide she’d hired.
He raised his brows; there was only one thing left to do. And he did it so well. He would deal with Joanna McCall in the same way he was dealing with his other responsibilities in San Rafael. By manipulating, maneuvering, and lying, he would finesse his way to a greater good. In Joanna’s case, saving her butt. He pulled in a lungful of gardenia-scented air and smiled. "I was just wondering how you met Ramon Quintero?"
"I haven’t actually met the man yet," she said, running her hands along the armrests of the chair.
"You haven’t?" he asked, watching her long, tapered fingers gliding over the gleaming dark green enamel surfaces. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Hell, he’d been staring at her nonstop since they sat down. When she clutched at the thick metal pieces, the pleasant tension he’d been experiencing quickly intensified. He never imagined any woman capable of producing such pleasurable sensations in him by simply grabbing at two metal armrests. Yet she was. So what did that make him? A man on the verge of developing a metal fetish? Or someone who’d gone too long without sex? Or, simply, a good ol’ boy stirred up by the notion of an unpredictable woman?
Scratching his temple, he told himself to get a grip on reality. Where it concerned Joanna McCall, his one and only objective was to get her safely out of the country. No matter how much she was turning him on, he was not giving up another inch to his libido. He blinked. Bad choice of words, he thought as he continued to watch her while repositioning himself more comfortably in his chair.
Clicking her nails against the curved ends of the armrests, Joanna’s gaze moved to his face, then quickly skidded past him. This time she fixed a stare on the tropical flower arrangements spilling over the china pots lining the veranda. When she finally turned back to him, her furrowed brow and steely stare made no sense, unless… A sinking feeling dragged at his insides. While he was thinking about how her naked body might appear in flickering candlelight, she could be suffering a concussion.
"Are you all right? You’re not feeling dizzy again, are you?" Starting from his chair, he reached for her chin and tilted it upward. "Joanna, look at me. Let me see your eyes."
"No, no. I’m fine," she said, looking as upset and confused as he had felt. "I’m sorry I—"
"I’m the one who is sorry. You need rest. We can talk later."
"It’s nothing, Jack. I was… distracted by… s-something," she said, taking his hand in hers and lowering it to her lap. For a long, liquid moment she stared up into his eyes as she leaned closer to him. "You’re being so kind to me," she said as if she could hardly believe it.
"You sound as if you’re surprised, Red," he said, patting her knee as relief uncoiled a few of his major organs. "Is there a reason I shouldn’t be kind to you?"
"No, of course not. It’s just been a strange night," she said, letting go of his hand to retuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Sitting up straighter, she backed away from him. "Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh, yes. The guide I hired. His cousin runs the travel agency next to my hotel. I’m meeting him in the morning to discuss the details of the trip."
Visions of Joanna sitting in a seedy cafe in a questionable part of San Remo with Quintero danced before his eyes. "What time?" Jack asked, retaking his seat.
"Ten-thirty. Why?"
"Ten-thirty," he repeated, picturing the man fighting off his usual morning hangover. "I want to make sure you don’t miss him," he said, consciously hardening himself to the fact that he lied so easily.
"Oh, he’ll be there," she said, turning at the sound of footsteps behind her. "I’ve already paid the travel agent half his fee."
"Then I guess you’ve taken care of things, and all I can offer to do is get you safely to your meeting," he said in a deceptively innocent voice as he glanced up at his housekeeper. Before Joanna could deliver her response, he asked the older woman a series of questions in rapid Spanish. When she’d answered him, he turned back to his redheaded guest. "You wanted to say?" he asked, standing and offering Joanna his hand.
"You’ve done too much already, Jack. I can’t let you chauffeur me around town. I’ll take a taxi in the morning."
"Nonsense, I have business over that way tomorrow," he said, lying once again as his plan started to jell. "So what’s the going rate for a guide these days?" Sorry, Red, but whatever you paid, you’ll never see your money again.
"Twelve thousand pizoles now and twelve thousand when the trip is over. The travel agent said that the timber companies employ most of the guides now, so I think I was lucky to get him for that."
Following the housekeeper down the hall and into a spacious powder room, Joanna twisted back to him as the woman turned on the light in the shower room beyond them. "Well, don’t you agree?"
Standing outside the door, Jack was achingly aware of her backlit figure. He began drumming his fingers against the dark wood doorjamb. If he hadn’t been aware of her shapely from-here-to-Saturday-night legs before this moment, he was aware now. Joanna McCall wasn’t wearing a slip. "Lucky? You bet." He pointed to clothing spread out on an upholstered bench. "Marisol laid out those things for you. The wife of a friend left them last time they visited. She won’t mind you using them."
"Jack, there’s no need to go to this trouble. All I need is soap and water and a towel. You forget, for the next month or so I’ll probably be putting up with much worse conditions than this," she said, pointing to the spots on her dress.
"Then enjoy a hot shower while you can. I’ll ask Marisol to stay with you if you want. Otherwise, you can give her your dress to wash while you clean up."
"Thank you, but please don’t keep her here for me. I don’t need a personal maid standing by."
"At least give her your dress, and she’ll take it to the laundry and wash it for you." He held up his hand. "Don’t say no. She’ll be offended if you refuse."
"Offended? Why?"
"Integrity. I pay her better than most housekeepers and she wants to know she’s earned it." He turned to explain to Marisol in Spanish what he wanted. While the woman waited for the soiled dress, Jack turned to go. "I’ll be in my office down the hall."
"Wait, Jack," Joanna said, walking back toward the door. "You know Ramon Quintero, don’t you?"
Behind her, Marisol narrowed her eyes toward Jack, mouthing Quintero’s name with tightened lips. After making the sign of the cross, the housekeeper hurried around Joanna, under his arm, and out of the room, whispering fiercely in staccato Spanish. Jack kept his gaze on Joanna as she ducked under his arm to watch Marisol’s departure.
"What was that all about?"
"She must have forgotten something in the kitchen. Just leave your dress here. She’ll be back for it later."
She raised her brows but let the matter of Marisol’s emotional departure drop with her next words. "You haven’t answered my question about Quintero."
"Do I know Ramon?" he asked as guilt crawled up his back. For reasons he couldn’t fully u
nderstand, he hated concocting another lie to tell her. Maybe this assignment was getting to him, although he didn’t know why it would. It hadn’t gotten to his predecessor, Reilly Anderson, and Reilly had had to tough it out up on the edge of the rain forest in a run-down hotel for ten miserable months. Of course, while securing Paradise province for pharmaceutical research, Reilly managed to lay the groundwork for Jack’s cover, meet the love of his life, and get a transfer to Brazil. Jack turned his head to stare at the hall ceiling fan. All he’d accomplished in his undercover work for Taylor Pharmaceuticals was to go over budget with the parties he’d thrown, bribe several government officials who did next to nothing for him, and fend off the advances of more military officers’ wives than he cared to count. Was he ever going to feel that he was doing something worthwhile? Or honest? Or at least ethical?
"Well, do you or don’t you know Quintero?" Joanna asked, moving to his side to rest her shoulder against the wall.
He looked over his braced arm at her. The eager expression in those wide-set eyes of hers made him ache all over. She had just enough guts to get herself into deep trouble, but not nearly enough experience to get herself out of it. Maybe the small victory of seeing Joanna McCall safely out of San Rafael was exactly what he needed before he threw himself into investigating the coup he knew was coming. He shrugged. "I’ve run into him once or twice." With that fake diamond embedded in his front tooth, Red, he’s hard to miss.
She moved closer, whispering, "Is it true what the desk clerk told me? Is part of his ear missing?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Jack!" she said in that comfortable way that made him want to tickle her just to hear her laugh some more. But he wasn’t going to tickle her. Ever.
Reaching up, she squeezed his shoulder, then gave him a playful push. "Don’t look at me like that," she said as a jolt of riveting pleasure shot to his groin. "This is my first trip outside of the United States, and I’ll be honest… I’m ready for anything." Her brows shot upward as she moved her face closer to his. "So tell me, is it true?"
He rested his chin on his arm and smiled. Her eyes were sea green with gold flecks. "It’s true. Half of his left ear is gone." And no, Red, you’re not ready for Quintero, but if circumstances were different, I’d be more than ready for you.
"Hmmm," she murmured. "From that skeptical look, I have a feeling you don’t believe the story about a wildcat tearing it off." A devilish smile lit her face as she rolled her eyes in his direction. "Or do you?" she asked teasingly.
He smiled back, knowing it was a much weaker version of the one she was beaming at him. "Oh, he lost it in a cat fight, Red, but I’m not sure about the details," he said, gently closing the door. Except that the cat fight involved two women, turned into a major brawl, and took place in a whorehouse.
He tried to remember the last time he’d run into Quintero. The self-described guide had been trying to sell a pitifully thin puma from a cage in the back of his Land-Rover. Before the illegal transaction could occur, the police seized the animal and arrested Quintero. The next day Quintero was out on bail and headed upriver with several empty bird cages in tow. Piece by piece, Quintero and his kind were destroying the rain forest. They sickened him with their disregard of anyone or anything but their own greed. But he’d never felt alarmed until he found out about Joanna’s plans to travel alone with Quintero.
Jack checked his watch as he headed down the hall to his office. If he had to lie, cheat, and steal, he was going to make certain that Quintero never got close to Joanna.