by Zoe Dawson
“Could you point me in the right direction?”
“Of course.” She came from behind the counter and went to the front door, conscious of every move he made. What the hell was wrong with her?
The bell tinkled as she went outside into the cool air of June where it was winter in the Southern Hemisphere. He didn’t seem to mind the chilly air even in his short sleeves. A light drizzle coated the streets. A long line of mountain bikes that would be loaded for the trip tomorrow stood by the front door. He came up beside her, leaning down slightly as she pointed down the street.
“Right down to the end of the block. You can’t miss it. It has an arched entrance and is a tan colored stucco building. It’s next door to a quaint church.” She turned and brushed her hand across his chest when she gestured down the street. He was too close.
He went stock still, taking a breath. She did her best to ignore his reaction. “That way is where the bazaar is and all the shops are and you can shop until you drop. Just don’t wear high heels.”
Oh, Lord. Why did she provoke him? He was too damn close. A warped grin appeared, and there was a touch of humor in his voice. “Well, ma’am, I’ll have to pass on that. I left them in my other duffel.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Now what will I wear with my pretty dresses?”
She laughed and the spark of humor in his eyes faded. “You have a nice laugh, Paige Sinclair.”
She experienced a weird sensation in the pit of her stomach. His voice had a peculiar huskiness to it that jangled her nerves.
He backed toward the street, his eyes on hers. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Seven-thirty sharp at Café El Mundo. Hope you enjoy your stay.” He kept backing up, his eyes glued to hers. “Oh, wait—” she called out, but it was too late. His butt hit the first bike and the rest of them fell like dominoes with a crashing clash of metal and leather.
He landed on his back on top of them in a heap. She rushed over. “Oh, my God. Are you all right?”
He looked up from the chaos he’d made of the bikes and grinned like a fool. “Nothing hurt but my pride.”
“Let me help you up,” she said as she reached out and clasped his hand.
There was that jolt again as if she’d been zapped with lightning. He came up a little faster than she expected tangled up as he was in the wreckage of the bikes. His dexterity surprised her, caught her off-guard and threw her completely off balance. She was the one now in jeopardy of falling. She wasn’t exactly sure how he did it, how he kept them upright. But he did, and before she knew it, she was jammed up against all that hard muscle.
She clutched his broad shoulders as he gave her a solid base to cling to. Once her mind was free from keeping her on her feet, her responsiveness to him as a man jumped up a million notches. She went still rather than move away, every cell in her body throbbing.
They stared at each other and everything but the sound of her heartbeat faded away, her world narrowing down to his face, those eyes, something expanding between them, the air thickening until she could barely breathe around the awareness locking her…them…in place. He was just as affected as she was and that sent a frisson of warning down her spine. Her normal guardedness when it came to men who had an interest in her seemed to desert her here. She was all about working hard and that meant long hours and no personal life. Getting ahead in her job was worth every long, hard hour, every minute it took away from pursuing…she gulped…pleasure.
She found it hard to maintain direct eye contact in the face of his rather intense focus. There was a wealth of vibrancy, a man who rushed at living as if it would be his very last chance to wring every ounce of exuberance, a man who couldn’t be contained.
Oh, man, don’t go down that road, Paige. That road led to a loss of control and rules and discipline would get her where she wanted to go. She had a plan and getting hot and bothered with adrenaline junkie, Ashe Wilder wasn’t a good move or a smart one. She was working. But did he have to look so good, so alive as if he could infuse her with the kind of energy that would fuel her, take her places she had never gone, energize her beyond her imagination?
Maybe if she just got physical with him, it would take the edge off everything, a fling in beautiful Bolivia with a very intriguing man. What could be the harm? She could see what it would be like to juggle sex and her job. Maybe it wasn’t as difficult as she thought. Her body craved the weight of him instantly.
Once her mind went there, she couldn’t stem the images of touching him, every inch of the body that was so intimately pressed against hers. This close the intensity of the blue of his eyes seemed as wide and deep as the ocean, and, boy, did she want to swim. His skin was incredibly smooth, despite the hint of five o’clock shadow with such a downright dark richness to his skin, it made her fingers and palms itch. He had such a cute, boyish look to his face, but those eyes told her that he was no boy and he knew exactly what to do with a woman.
Without warning, longing washed over her, and she recognized the feel of it from the years she’d spent helping to raise her brothers with her overworked and tired father. He had praised everything she’d done to keep their family together. But loneliness, that was something that pulled at her now. He blinked a couple of times as if he’d seen the vulnerability in her. She swallowed and her heart lurched, the dynamic changing between them as if he’d identified with the emotion in her eyes. That gave her the impetus to push away. A fling with him? What the hell was she thinking? He would suck her in like a vortex and the distraction could cost her everything, her promotion, her job, her very life.
“Is everything all right out here?”
She looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Oyola, the co-owner come rushing out. “Damn, I’m sorry.” Ashe said, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Mr. Oyola gave her a knowing sidelong glance. “That happens around Paige.”
She nudged him and the mischief maker only grinned.
“Yeah, I bet it does,” Ashe said, a smile flirting with the corners of his mouth—a beautifully sculpted mouth.
A mouth she had no business looking at.
There was a tremendous pull between them, the kind of pull that was almost impossible to ignore. “At least I didn’t end up on my ass.” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them, and they were filled with a teasing breathlessness that she was unaccustomed to hearing in her own voice.
He laughed and the sound of it tightened around her like gentle, but tough vines. Flirting with him came much too naturally.
“Thanks to me.” The husky inflection to his voice only made her tingle more and that wasn’t what she wanted. She could still feel the imprint of his arm around her waist and his hand tight around her arm to keep her from falling to the street.
Mr. Oyola reached out his hand and said, “Cristopher Oyola.” She was thankful for him breaking up this flirt-fest.
“Ashe Wilder. Nice to meet you.” Reaching for Mr. Oyola’s hand meant he had to let go of her. She stepped back, and they shook briefly.
“Mr. Oyola is part owner of Going Down Wilderness Excursions,” Paige said, taking another step back, then going around Ashe bending down to haul Ashe’s duffel from among the fallen bikes.
It was heavier than it looked, and even as she went to move it, Ashe took it effortlessly out of her hands.
“I’m looking forward to the trip down Camino El Muerte,” he said as he propped the duffel against the office wall.
Road of Death. It was no joke. She drove the van, and she could attest that the narrow road was harrowing at the very least and in bad weather, downright treacherous. But there was genuine challenge and pleasure in Ashe’s voice. She shook her head. Adrenaline junkies and their crazy ways. She reached for the first bike and righted it, moving onto the next. Ashe and Mr. Oyola went further down the line and began to pick up the other downed bikes.
“I’m really sorry about this. If there’s any damage, I can take ca
re of it.”
“That’s generous of you, but it looks like there’s no harm really done here,” Mr. Oyola said.
“We can take care of this,” she said, wanting him to move along. She had work to do. “We’re sure you must be tired and hungry from your long trip. The hotel is just down the street, like I said.” She pointed in the direction of the quaint, well-regarded hotel.
He looked at the bikes as if he felt responsible for helping them. “Really, Mr. Wilder. No harm done.”
“Mr. Wilder?” he asked, walking to his duffel and hefting it once again to his shoulder. “It’s Ashe, ma’am.” He took a few steps and then turned back, “I’ll see you both tomorrow.” But he was looking at her the whole time. There was that intense gaze again. She was in for some kind of day tomorrow. It didn’t have anything to do with the Road of Death and everything to do with Ashe Wilder.
She watched him walk away, that broad back supporting the duffel. She couldn’t help thinking that the man looked just as good from behind as he did from the front.
Mr. Oyola nudged her. “Something distracting you?”
She dragged her eyes from Ashe’s retreating form and gave him a sidelong, don’t go there look.
“Not anything I can’t handle,” Paige said. She reached for another bike.
“I have no doubt about this,” her boss said. “You might stop being so controlled and give yourself permission to let loose every once in a while. What’s the worst that could happen? You get your heart broken. It builds character.”
“What would you know about broken hearts?” she smiled. “You and your wife still act like newlyweds.”
“This is also true, but faint heart never won hunky man.”
She laughed out loud. “You let me worry about my love life—and hunky men.” She picked up another bike and gave him an affectionate look. “I’ve got this, Mr. Oyola.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Paige, to call me Cris?”
“It doesn’t seem professional to call someone I work for by his first name, but if you insist—”
“I do.” He gave her a warm smile. Mr. Oyola—Cris had the warmest brown eyes and he was always teasing his employees in that soft, earnest voice of his. Working for him was so completely different from working for NCIS where the atmosphere was always tense and driven. Of course, Mr.—Cris had the kind of business that was conducive to relaxation. This was what people did when they were on vacation.
He inspected the bikes very thoroughly. She had no doubt he wanted to make sure they were sound for tomorrow.
“Okay, Cris it is.”
“Then you need to start calling me Bryant.”
She stiffened at the deep, commanding voice behind her. She turned to find the other co-owner, Bryant Anderson, the man she’d come to investigate. He looked every inch of what he was—a mercenary. Big, honed, thick muscles bulging everywhere. But unlike Ashe Wilder, he was arrogant and smug, giving off a vibe that told her he was more dangerous than she could imagine. She had disliked him from the get go and nothing had changed. She couldn’t understand what had possessed Cris to go into business with such a man, convincing herself that Cris just didn’t know what was going on. He was a family man, strong supporter of his community, ran his business with the kind of joy that showed he loved what he did. He was the people guy and Anderson, well he was the hard-ass who took the bikers down the side of a mountain. So maybe he was the necessary evil.
He gave her a once over like he always did. So the opposite of Mr. Oyola who had eyes only for his wife, Ariane. Together they embodied true love and had two kids, Riky and Jhosselin whom Paige adored.
“What happened here?” he asked, coming to stand next to them.
“Nothing serious, just a little mishap with one of the customers.”
“Doesn’t bode well for him riding down a mountainside. What a joker.”
“It was an accident,” Paige said more harshly than she meant to, retreating toward the front door as three men entered.
His eyes narrowed as he tracked her toward the office.
She’d always been respectful of Anderson only because her job was to get him to trust her, but she couldn’t help defending Ashe. Damn, he was already getting her into trouble. She smiled to lessen the impact and then ducked inside to handle the new clients.
Ashe Wilder. Yeah, some trouble, indeed.
3
That was so freaking smooth, man. He said to himself as he walked away from the carnage he’d left behind. That woman had taken over his senses. Hell, he could still smell the floral, enticing scent of her.
All the way up the street, Kid resisted the urge to turn around. He wasn’t too far gone that he couldn’t recognize some potent attraction when he felt it. That girl was five feet eight inches of sexy brunette knockout—a one-two punch to the chin.
After his breakup with Mia, he’d gone on a binge for the rest of his leave, trying to understand how he could keep getting it so wrong. Cowboy was just simply there for him, not judging and wholly supportive. Kid had exhausted his mind with constant movement and sated his body with countless women, the kind that had no problem with a short-term affair with a SEAL. Sex was the answer and still was for him right now.
But that wasn’t the vibe he got off the beautiful brunette with the stunning golden green eyes. She was more than an affair and that was reason enough to steer clear. He was here for a vacation. That was it. Not that he wouldn’t want some kind of a hook-up. He just suspected that Paige Sinclair came with plenty of complications. More than Mia, a lot more than Caitlin.
Right now, he wanted hot and reckless easy in his bed. She might slide over him hot as hell and it would be just as easy to let the scenario in his head play out in real mode, but some alarm, deep in his brain, sent out warning vibes. Kid might pull out all the stops when it came to ops, but matters of the heart were much trickier.
And a whole helluva lot more painful.
Sex wasn’t love, though, and it wasn’t trust, and though he didn’t know a damn thing about love anymore, and in retrospect, doubted if he ever had, he did know about trust—and he wanted that in a relationship.
Mia had been easy and uncomplicated or so he’d thought until she’d blindsided him six months ago. Now, he figured he didn’t know squat.
He’d convinced himself he needed that type of woman, the kind who was always waiting for him, keeping home and hearth warm while he went to bad places and did bad things to bad people, and so far, every time, he’d come back alive—he and his elite team. It’s what his mother had done for his father and that was all he’d had to go on.
Even though he’d been only ten when his father had died, he remembered him, a big, bold presence in his life and the way his mom had loved him. With anything that was tied to his dad, he wanted to be worthy of that memory, of his dad’s sacrifice, but as for his doubts about being as good as his dad…that was something he reserved in private. Not even Cowboy knew that information.
What would it take to be that man he had built up in his head over the years? The ultimate sacrifice? It certainly required him to go in with both barrels blazing and damn the consequences. All out war with that image was something Kid battled in the darker moments when he allowed himself to think about it.
As he passed the first block through a mad carnival of jostling pedestrians, honking, diesel-spewing minivans, feeling as gritty, congested, and cosmopolitan as New York City, it was clear this was the urban jungle. A jumble of cobblestones and concrete, Gothic spires, sharp-suited businessmen, and shoe shine boys. Streets lined with vendors, he glimpsed the steeple of the church and waited until the street traffic had slowed enough to cross.
La Paz was the highest capital city in the world with an immense, scrubby plains flanked by barren, even more intense mountains, all of it under a flat and penetratingly bright sky. He’d seen some harsh places in his travels all over the globe, but this area was stark and harsh—yet also stunning, the sort of landscape th
at put people in their place, in the very best way possible.
The altitude had nothing to do with his giddiness of being here with the prospect of biking in challenging terrain. He’d spent a lot of his normal training as part of a SEAL team in San Diego, riding the steep and winding trails, climbing and running through the rolling hills and mesas that rose from the Pacific shore. With his constant PE and his preferred training, he’d be able to handle the steep mountains here with virtually no problem. The trick was staying hydrated and getting plenty of rest.
He spied the boutique hotel, the arching doors and the sign with the name in flowing gold letters on a black background.
He checked in easily and left once he’d set his stuff in the bathroom and unpacked his clothes. He went downstairs to get a meal, then walked through the city to the bazaar because he was a bit bored.
Near the intersection of Calle Max Paredes and Calle Graneros, the streets were filled with peddlers hawking clothing, handcrafts, and household goods. Making his way through the twisting maze of knock-offs and cheap imitations, but taking his time here would net him some good gifts. Tucked into the alleys and courtyards were tambos, thatch or tin roof structures, meaning ‘place of rest’ where shoppers could purchase oranges, bananas, and coca leaves. The leaf was chewed by farmers and miners and sometimes tourists to ward off hunger and the effects of the altitude. Being in the military, he avoided the leaves, but bought three oranges.
At a booth, he found some cute stuffed llamas and bought two, one for each of his nieces, a necklace for his sister with pretty blue beads and silver stars, a jaguar pendent for his mom who was very fond of them and, for his brother-in-law it was organic coffee. The guy loved his caffeine and it was his hobby to try different beans from around the world.
Once Ashe was back in his room, he prepared to sleep. Relaxing on his bed, leaving the curtain open so he could see the magnificent icebound peak of Mount Illimani rising imperiously to the southeast, the beautiful Paige glided through his mind. As he drifted into sleep, he thought about how many mountains he’d scaled in his life, the pressure to climb even more pressing at him, conquering every challenge. It’s what his dad had done up until he’d died.