Just Trust Me… Read online

  She feigned surprise and experienced a sharp, unexpected jolt of self-reproach. A guilt-induced heated flush swept up her back all the way to her scalp, and she wished she’d slipped her sunglasses back on to hide her eyes to prevent him from possibly seeing the truth-that she knew damn well they were on the same tour. She wanted to look away from his warmly admiring regard which only served to heap on more guilt.

  What had happened to her desire for payback? Darned if she knew. All she did know was that revenge was not among the tingly feelings this man inspired.

  Would he guess the truth? Part of her almost wished he would so as to put an end to her spying mission which she found less and less palatable with each passing minute. But no hint of suspicion showed in his gaze. No, instead he was looking at her as if he’d just been given an unexpected gift. Hello, another layer of guilt.

  She offered him a smile. “Looks like we’ll be spending the next four days together.”

  “I’m thinking that’s good news.”

  “I’m thinking I agree.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  An image instantly materialized in her mind…of him and her, naked, sweaty, her legs wrapped around his waist, him thrusting deep inside her.

  Heat pooled in her stomach and she had to swallow twice to find her voice, and even then only managed a whisper. “Starving.”

  “A porter at my hotel recommended a place at the other end of the plaza that serves everything from local dishes to wood-fire pizzas. He assured me the food is good and embarrassingly cheap. Would you care to join me?”

  Another erotic image flashed through her mind…of her joining him under the deluge of a hot, steamy shower. She blinked to clear the image. No wonder it was recommended that travelers give themselves at least a day to get used to the altitude. The thin air was clearly affecting her ability to think of anything other than sex. Or maybe it was just that for the first time in a long time, she felt…free. With no one to look after except herself. No family drama to deal with. There was, of course, the work issue-the reason she was here-but spending time with Brett Thornton was precisely what she was supposed to be doing. Right?

  Or maybe it was that she found herself not only extremely attracted to this man, but curious about him as well. Her instincts-which she considered very reliable-were telling her that this man was trustworthy, and not the sort to make false claims. And that if he blew off an important party, maybe he’d had a good reason for doing so. Still, she needed to consider that her instincts might be somewhat derailed by the surge of hormones racing through her body.

  But, regardless of the reason, there was only one answer to his question. “I’d love to join you.” She shot him a teasing grin. “But what if we share a meal together and discover we can’t stand each other? It might make things awkward on the trail.”

  He rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. His face was no more than a foot from hers and her breath caught at the heat simmering in his gaze. “Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be problem. But I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

  And again, there was only one answer. Looking into his eyes, she said, “I’m willing to risk it.”

  4

  A WAITER ESCORTED them to a quiet, secluded alcove in the back room of the nearly deserted restaurant, ensconcing them in a privacy that felt both warm and intimate. Once seated amongst the richly colored Andean textiles and exposed Inca stonework, Brett pretended to study the menu, but in reality he was studying the woman seated adjacent to him.

  She’d removed her straw hat, revealing a sleek, glossy cap of chin-length auburn hair that his fingers itched to touch. He was debating the wisdom of giving in to the urge when she raised her gaze from the menu. “Have you decided what you want?” she asked.

  You. In so many ways it’s making my head spin. “You mean from the menu?”

  He really liked the heat that flared in her eyes. “Yes. For now.”

  And he also really liked that she wasn’t shy. And that she clearly felt this same strong attraction as he. Setting down his menu, he said, “My Spanish consists mostly of silent gestures.” He demonstrated by nodding yes, shaking his head, then mimed asking for the check. “How’s yours?”

  “Also pretty basic. I can say, ‘Where’s the hospital?’ ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ and ‘I need a policeman.’”

  “Clearly our priorities are different because my two basic phrases contain the words cold beer and hot food.”

  She laughed. “Between the two of us we have the necessities covered. You teach me your phrases and I’ll teach you mine.”

  “I don’t know. Yours are all about asking for directions, which is something men don’t do. Do you know anything useful like-” he reached out and lightly entwined their fingers “-‘My dinner companion has the softest hands I’ve ever felt?’”

  Her breath caught at the contact, then her lips twitched. “I’m afraid not. But I do know that pizza means, well, pizza, and that queso and tomate mean cheese and tomato, so I think I can order us a decent meal without too much trouble.”

  “Excellent. I’ll leave the dinner order in your capable hands. Knowing my luck, I’d end up ordering something like sautéed earthworms by mistake.”

  “I understand they serve those on the trail to Machu Picchu,” she said with a teasing grin.

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  She placed their order to the smiling waiter by pointing to the items on the menu she wanted. After he departed, Brett made an exaggerated eye roll and said, “Well, I could have done that.”

  “Uh-huh. And we’d have ended up with sautéed earthworms.” She glanced down to where their fingers remained lightly joined, and he followed her gaze. Her hand looked remarkably small and pale and smooth next to his, and the sight of their entwined fingers looked stirringly intimate. And utterly arousing. His fingers bore dozens of pale scars from nicks and cuts and burns, mostly from childhood chemistry experiments. Luckily he’d gotten smarter and more coordinated as he’d grown. When he raised his gaze, he found her studying him.

  “Care to share why your life’s out of balance?” she asked in a light tone. “If you tell me, I’ll tell you.”

  He leaned forward and gave in to his craving to touch her hair. It was as silky-soft as it looked. “Okay,” he agreed, already deciding to offer up the very abridged version. “But you first.”

  Kayla pondered for a few seconds, then decided to give him the full story, hoping that if she were open with him, he’d reciprocate. Reaching with her free hand into her bag, she pulled out her U.S. Weekly Review then opened it to the No Change, No Gain article and pointed to the first paragraph.

  “‘Sex, love, career, family, friendships, marriage,’” she said, quoting the words. Then she looked at him. “Every one of those is, in some way, out of balance for me.”

  He raised his brows. “Please tell me you’re not married.”

  “I’m not, but my older sister, Meg, is getting married next month and I’m the maid of honor. Have you ever heard the term bridezilla?”

  “No, but it doesn’t sound good-like a cross between a bride and Godzilla?”

  “That’s exactly what it is, and it’s not good at all. This wedding has been in the planning stages for over a year, and to put it bluntly, it’s a nightmare that has turned my already type-A sister into a crazy person. She’s micromanaging every detail to death and driving everyone insane over the most ridiculous things-at least they seem ridiculous to me. I mean, does it really matter if the color of the cocktail napkins is eggshell instead of ecru?”

  “Wouldn’t seem so, but then, I wouldn’t know eggshell from hot pink, so I’m not a good person to ask.”

  “She calls me constantly to talk about the flowers or the photographer or the caterer or her future in-laws or how Robert-that’s her fiancé-isn’t helping her.” She shook her head. “They’re both lawyers and could argue the paint off the walls. Personally, I think Robert’s just tired o
f arguing, which is saying a lot.”

  “So you’re saying I’m not missing much by being an only child.”

  She laughed. “I love both my sisters, but there are definitely days when I wish they’d lose my phone number.”

  He scooted his chair closer and lightly massaged her hand with both of his. “What’s your other sister like?”

  “Hmmm…that feels nice.” Her eyes drifted closed. “Reeaally nice. What was the question?”

  He chuckled and kept on massaging. “Your other sister.”

  “Oh, right. Cindy is the youngest. Last week she pulled off an incredible trifecta. She graduated from college, announced she was moving to Los Angeles with her actor boyfriend, Jason, who just scored a minor part in the James Bond flick about to start shooting, and that she’s pregnant.”

  “That is quite a triple play.”

  “You have no idea. She’s been calling every day to ask for baby advice, as if I have any. Although, I have to admit I’m pretty excited about being an aunt. Not so with Meg. The news sent the bride-to-be into hysterics because now not only is she afraid that Cindy won’t fit into her Vera Wang bridesmaid dress, but she’s upset that everyone will be talking about the pregnancy and Jason’s movie role on her big day. She calls me hourly, alternately crying and complaining. I’ve taken to putting her on the speakerphone with the volume waaay down.”

  “You might do better to just unplug the phone.”

  “That’s next. Then there’s Mom. She can’t decide if she’s more distraught that Cindy is pregnant without, as she puts it, ‘benefit of clergy,’ or by the fact that she’s going to be a grandmother, which she claims she’s far too young to be. She calls several times a day to discuss either the wedding or the baby. When she isn’t talking about one of those things, she’s playing matchmaker, trying to set me up with every single man she can find.” Kayla blew out a huff of laughter. “Between the three of them calling me constantly, it’s like I’m caught in a Bermuda triangle of telephone agony.”

  “No offense, but it sounds like you’re the only sane one in the family.”

  “Only on days when I don’t answer my phone-which is becoming more and more frequent.”

  “Where does your father fit in?”

  She paused for several seconds, then said, “He doesn’t. He died five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. He was a great dad.”

  He nodded back toward the magazine. “Well, that explains about marriage and family.”

  “Friendships, too. Believe me, remaining friends with my family has been challenging lately.”

  “What about career?”

  She hesitated, not certain how to explain without slipping up and giving away too much. “I’ve worked very hard to get where I am in my company, and I’ve always enjoyed my work. But lately, I’ve become…disenchanted with many of the people I’m working with. I’ve found them shallow and lacking in character.” Again she hesitated, then added softly, “It’s made me wonder if perhaps some of that hasn’t rubbed off on me.”

  “You don’t seem shallow to me.”

  “Says a man who’s known me all of two hours.”

  His fingers lightly brushed over hers, the feathery touch pulsing heat up her arm. “True, but I’d be willing to bet that I’d say the same thing two hours from now.” He studied her for several seconds, his expression serious. “But I know what you mean. When you find yourself surrounded by superficial people, it’s easy to fall into that trap. To lose sight of yourself. And your goals.”

  She nodded, surprised that he’d hit it so precisely. “Yes. That’s it exactly.”

  “But your strength of character shows in that you recognize yourself falling. And you’re taking steps to change direction, to get back to where you want to be. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself for taking a slight detour.”

  “This sounds like the voice of experience talking.”

  A slight frown creased between his brows. “I guess it is.” His thumbs brushed slowly over the backs of her hands, a hypnotic gesture that lulled her into a pleasure-filled trance. “So that leaves love and sex,” he murmured. “Surely you have men begging for your company.”

  “You know, you’re extremely good for my ego.”

  “Just calling it like I see it. Bad breakup?”

  “You can’t have a breakup unless you have a relationship, and my last one of those ended six months ago after I discovered we held polar opposite views regarding monogamy.”

  “What’s your view?”

  “At the point we were in our relationship, I felt it was essential. He was equally adamant it was optional. He claimed he loved me, but didn’t love only me. I decided he could love as many women as he wanted-but I wasn’t going to be one of them. Since then, my love life has consisted of a parade of really, really awful first dates.” She shuddered. “If you strung them together, they’d be a bad movie entitled Jerks, Egomaniacs, Cheaters and Other Assorted Whackos I’ve Recently Dated.”

  “How can a guy cheat after only one date?”

  “He cheated on the date. With one of the waitresses. In the ladies’ room. I recognized his shoes under the stall door. Based on the animal grunts, they were exchanging more than phone numbers.”

  He winced. “Ouch. That’s really low. Makes me embarrassed to belong to the same gender as someone who would do that.”

  She forced her attention from the magic his long, strong fingers were wreaking on her hand and wondered if he was sincere. He certainly sounded as if he meant it. “Definitely ranks as one of my worst first dates.”

  “This first date is going very well,” he said.

  “Is this a date?” She found herself holding her breath, waiting for his answer.

  “A nice restaurant, a cozy, private alcove all to ourselves, a beautiful woman…feels like a date to me.”

  Yes, it did. And she wasn’t really certain how she felt about that. Certainly it was unexpected. As was his effect on her. The last time a man had made her feel like this…like she’d been struck by lightning, was…never. “Well, this is definitely an improvement on the date with the guy who boffed the waitress in the bathroom,” she said lightly.

  “Thanks, but that isn’t a high benchmark to exceed.”

  “True. But if you claim to need the restroom, I’ll be mighty suspicious.”

  “Not to worry. You have my full and undivided attention. Where are you meeting these losers?”

  “Losers? Oh, no, my friend. They’re the best Manhattan has to offer.”

  “Present company excluded, I hope.” He turned over her hand and traced his fingertip slowly around her palm, shooting fiery tingles up her arm and evaporating her concentration.

  She had to swallow to find her voice. “Um, yeah. So far you’re way ahead of the Bathroom Banger.” And suddenly the thought of a hot, sweaty bang in the bathroom sounded really, really good. And far too tempting. And not her usual style. Certainly not with a man she’d just met.

  Hey-it’s not as if he’s a complete stranger, her inner voice interjected.

  Hmmm…very true. Even though they hadn’t met, Brett Thornton had been on her radar screen for the past four months. She had an entire file on him, filled with scientific articles he’d written-the technical aspects of which had glazed her eyes-and information about his education and professional life, but little regarding his personal life. Up until now she hadn’t cared to know.

  But that was before she’d discovered that he could make her entire body flush hot with a single look. A single touch. It was definitely time to know more about this man whom she was envisioning naked-and liking what she saw. And to find out if her touch affected him as strongly as his did her.

  “I’ve kept up my end of the bargain,” she said, slipping her hand from beneath his. “Now it’s your turn. What in your life is out of balance?”

  Brett carefully considered before answering, surprised by his strong urge to tell her the entire story
. He’d come all the way to freakin’ Peru to partake in an extreme adventure, one he hoped would exorcise the poison of the last few months. He sure as hell hadn’t come here thinking he’d be anxious to talk to a stranger about what a mess his life had become. Then again, he hadn’t thought he’d be anxious to begin an affair, most especially not with just the sort of woman he’d sworn to himself to avoid-one who had Fifth Avenue written all over her-but here he was, hot, bothered and aching.

  He was about to speak when she settled her hand on his leg, just above his knee. His heart ricocheted for a few beats, pumping heat through him. When she’d said it was “his turn,” she’d obviously meant in more ways than one.

  After taking a long swallow of water, he looked pointedly down at where her palm rested on his bare knee then said, “God knows I’m game, but I feel it only fair to warn you that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to remain focused.”

  Mischief danced in her eyes and her fingertips skimmed down his shin. “Turnabout is only fair.”

  “I only touched your hand. So you’ll owe me.”

  Her eyes darkened in a way that let him know she wasn’t averse to paying up, and what felt like half the blood in his body rushed to his groin. He shifted to relieve the ache and stretched out his leg to offer her freer access. And hoped he wouldn’t forget how to speak English.

  “Ever hear of that expression ‘be careful what you wish for because you may just get it?’” he asked.

  She smiled and circled her fingertips behind his knee. Holy crap. She’d barely touched him and he felt as if he were about to spontaneously combust. “Of course,” she said in a smoky voice. “I’m hoping it will apply to me and winning the lottery.”

  With an effort, he shook his head. “Just trust me…you don’t want to say those words out loud.”

  “Hmmm…I’ve found that when people say ‘just trust me’ I probably shouldn’t. Are you saying you won the lottery and that it sucks-’cause I’d have a hard time believing that.”