Just Trust Me…

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  Still buried in her slick heat, heart still pounding, he lifted his head. And found her looking up at him through green eyes still hazy with arousal. And knew in that moment that there was no better place on the entire damn planet than this-stretched out over her warm, soft body.

  He wanted to say something lighthearted, toss out some quick-witted quip, but he had nothing. A veritable beehive of unfamiliar feelings buzzed through him, but not one of them could be described as lighthearted.

  She reached up and traced her fingertips over his face, as if trying to memorize his features. “What am I going to do,” she whispered, “when friends ask me what my favorite part of this trip was? How can I tell them that even amidst all this history and scenic beauty, my favorite part was falling asleep in your arms? Waking up wrapped around you? Soft, slow, morning sex with you?”

  He had to swallow to find his voice. “I don’t know. When you figure it out, pass it along, because I’ll need to know what to tell my friends when they ask me that question.”

  A tiny frown creased her brow. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For last night. For holding me and keeping me warm and…being my friend.”

  He touched his forehead to hers. “Thank you for letting me help. It felt good to be needed.”

  The sound of muffled voices drifted in through the tent flap. Brett raised his head and sniffed. “Hey. I smell bacon. And coffee.”

  She raised her head and sniffed, then her eyes widened. “Me, too.” She shot him a devilish grin. “Bet I can get dressed and make it to the bacon and coffee before you can.”

  “A princess like you?” he said with an exaggerated scoff. “I don’t think so. Especially seeing as how you’re on the bottom.”

  “I won’t be as soon as you reach for your clothes.”

  “You’re dealing with a man who really likes bacon. And really needs a cup of coffee.”

  “You’re dealing with a woman who really likes bacon and who really needs a cup of coffee. Care to place a wager?”

  “I’m not normally a gambling man, but hell, this is like shooting fish in a barrel. What are you willing to lose?”

  “What do you want?”

  You. The word jumped into his mind, reverberating through him. Since the answer was so glaringly clear, he said it out loud. “You.”

  “Ah. A flesh payment.”

  “Correct.”

  “And if I win, oh great professor of chemistry, what are you willing to lose?”

  He shot her a slow grin. “I’m not going to lose.”

  “Humor me.”

  “Okay, princess. What do you want?”

  “You.” Her eyes filled with mischief. “Twice.”

  “You realize that’s a win-win for me. Literally.”

  “Never let it be said that I’m not willing to share the prize.”

  “And if I refuse your wicked demands?”

  “Then I won’t let you have any of my bacon after I get to the kitchen tent first.”

  “You’re very confident for a woman who’s going to get left in the dust.”

  “You’re very confident for a man who’s going to have to pleasure me for hours-in the method of my choosing.”

  He raised his brows and nodded approvingly. “Dealer’s choice?”

  “Absolutely. Any complaints?”

  “Hell, no.”

  She smiled up into his eyes, and his heart executed that crazy acrobatic maneuver it had taken to performing every time she looked at him.

  “May the best man win,” he said.

  “May the best woman win,” she corrected. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “On your mark, get set, go!”

  17

  “YOU TOTALLY cheated.”

  Brett’s words, uttered softly so only she could hear them, had Kayla biting back a smile. The group had just departed the campsite, falling into pairs as they made their way along the trail which, according to Paolo, would soon begin to climb.

  Arranging her face into a mask of innocence, she turned toward him. In spite of his grumpy tone, his golden-brown eyes glowed with teasing warmth. She lifted her chin and said in her haughtiest voice, “Cheat? I did no such thing.”

  “Did, too. When you made the wager, your exact words were, ‘Bet I can get dressed and make it to the bacon and coffee before you can.’ The only reason you won was because you didn’t bother to get dressed before you hauled ass to the kitchen tent.”

  “Not true. I was dressed. Did you see me haul my naked ass to the kitchen tent? No, you did not.”

  “A technicality-although I have to admit that’s a sight I wouldn’t say no to seeing. And now you’re cheating again-trying to distract me by mentioning your naked ass.”

  She batted her eyelashes. “Is it working?”

  “Yes. So cut it out.”

  “You know, you’re really cute when you’re all frowning and fierce.”

  His lips twitched, but he recovered quickly and glowered at her. “Stop that. The point is you led me to believe that we had to get dressed. You dashing out of the tent wearing only my flannel shirt does not constitute getting dressed.”

  “I disagree. All my pertinent parts were covered.”

  “Barely.” His scowl deepened. “I thought Miguel’s and Alberto’s eyeballs were going to pop out on springs-right after they picked up their jaws from the ground.”

  As much as she was ashamed to admit it, she couldn’t deny the feminine thrill that curled through her at the jealousy in his disgruntled tone.

  “Don’t be silly. They didn’t say a word about it.”

  “That’s because they took one look at you, all sexy and tousled and bare-legged and sexy, and swallowed their tongues.”

  A bubble of laughter tickled her throat. “Good grief, I wear less at the beach.”

  A low groan passed his lips. “Which makes me wish we were at the beach.”

  That makes two of us, Mr. I Want to Get My Life Back in Balance so I’m Gonna Take a Freakin’ Four-Day Hike in the Freakin’ Mountains Where Freakin’ Bathrooms Don’t Exist. “You’re just upset that you didn’t think of not putting on all your clothes before leaving the tent.”

  “And do you know why I didn’t think of that?” Before she could answer, he leaned closer and said in a stage whisper, “Because I’m not a cheater.”

  She raised her chin, refusing to acknowledge the warmth that spread through her when their shoulders bumped. “There’s a difference between cheating and finding a legitimate loophole.”

  He snorted. “Legitimate loophole…that’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one.”

  “The problem is that you’re looking at this with a glass-half-empty mindset. Instead, you should be thanking me for my ingenuity.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Jeez. For a guy with a Ph.D., you sure are slow to grasp the salient point. If you’d won, I’d owe you one flesh payment. Because I won, you owe me two.” She inched up her chin another notch. “I think I’m insulted that you’re complaining.”

  “Oh, I’m not complaining. And I’m not failing to grasp anything. I had no intention of making it to the kitchen before you. I would have spent half an hour tying my boots if necessary to insure you left the tent first.”

  She stared at him, nonplussed, then sputtered, “You mean you let me win?”

  “With two flesh payments on the line? Hell, yes.”

  “But…but that’s cheating!”

  He laughed. “Now that’s like rubidium calling cesium an alkali metal.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Okay, I don’t know what that means, Mr. Science, but I’m guessing it’s along the lines of a dog calling a cat hairy.”

  “Exactly.” He waggled his brows. “And thanks to my delaying tactics, I’ll not only get lucky twice, I also got to enjoy the view of you all bent-over and pantyless while you struggled to get out of the tent before me. Gotta tell ya, Kayla, it was one hell of a fabulous sight.”

  “Humph. I
think I’m mad at you.”

  “Great. I’ll get make-up sex, too. And then there’s also the matter of that erotic massage someone we both know mentioned.” A positively wicked grin curved his lips. “Wow. This is the best four-day hike ever.”

  It was nearly impossible to keep a straight face, but she tried. “You are completely incorrigible.”

  He shrugged. “Sticks and stones and all that jazz. Now you’ve merely given me more incentive to inspire you to find other, more complimentary, words to describe me.”

  “What makes you think I’ll come up with anything more complimentary than incorrigible?”

  His gaze wandered down her body, the blatantly lustful fire in his eyes sending a surge of heat right into her socks. By the time his gaze settled again on hers, she felt as if she’d been roasted over a barbecue spit. “Based on me losing our wager, I have at least two opportunities to inspire you,” he said in a low, compelling voice. “And I intend to do so.”

  Good grief, they must have hiked significantly closer to the sun because it was hot out here. The thought of all the delicious things he’d do to her so thoroughly hazed over her brain receptors, Kayla had to shake her head to clear away the lust-induced fuzz. “Looking forward to that.”

  An understatement if she’d ever uttered one.

  “Good.” He shot her a wink, then a slight frown formed between his brows. “You said something about me having a Ph.D. How did you know that?”

  Her footsteps faltered and her breathing stuttered at the instant realization she’d made a mistake-because he’d never mentioned having a Ph.D. She knew he’d earned his doctorate because of the file La Fleur had compiled on him. Guilt nearly strangled her, warring with a sense of relief that he might figure out the truth and she’d be finished with her distasteful mission.

  Still, her promise to Nelson weighed heavily on her mind. Didn’t she owe it to him, if not actually to spy on Brett, then at least not to screw up La Fleur’s chances of winning his formula? Yes, she supposed she did. And then there was the matter of the bonus, perks and promotion Nelson had hinted at-very tempting in spite of herself. But she liked this less and less. And herself less and less right along with it.

  She forced a smile and hoped she didn’t look the way she felt-like a deer caught in the headlights. “You must have mentioned it.” Ouch. Her conscience slapped her hard for that one and she barely managed not to wince at the blow.

  “I didn’t. I rarely mention credentials unless I’m specifically asked. Otherwise it sounds like I’m pushing an agenda or showing off.”

  “Oh.” Jeez, could she feel any worse? The man was not only a genius, he was modest, too. “I guess I just assumed, what with you teaching a class at Columbia and all. I wouldn’t think such a prestigious university would hire anything less than the best and brightest to teach all those brilliant students.”

  She was saved from finding a way to change the subject when Paolo halted the group. “The trail will become steeper and more rugged from here and you’ll notice our current sub-tropical vegetation, which is quite dense, changing as we gain altitude. The next ruins are at Llullucharoc, about an hour’s steep climb. I caution you all to watch your step and regulate your breathing. Keeping conversation to a minimum will help, although feel free to speak if you feel capable. If anyone needs to slow down or stop, please signal me.” He flashed his bright smile. “We do not want any casualties on the trail.”

  Everyone fell back into line and Kayla pressed her hand to her jittery midsection. “Casualties?” she whispered to Brett. “Jeez, that Paolo. He’s a laugh a minute.”

  He chuckled and reached out to squeeze her hand. “You have a last will and testament, right?”

  “Oh, you’re hysterical, too. Really. You and Paolo should take your comedy tour on the road.” Even as she said it, she was damn glad she did have a last will and testament.

  Following Paolo’s instructions-because she had no intention of becoming a hike casualty-she focused on the trail and her breathing. The terrain was indeed rough and steep, and her lungs and legs burned with the strenuous uphill climb, none of which was helped by the ever-thinning air and the load of crap she lugged on her back.

  By God, if she was ever insane enough to do something like this again-not that she ever would, but just in case a rock hit her in the head and she became that insane by mistake, she would make damn sure she packed less crap. If she was going to lug anything heavy up another mountain, it would have Porta Potti written on its side.

  That was, of course, assuming that she survived this excursion up the mountain.

  After arriving at the ruins, they stopped for a much-needed drink, protein-energy bar, and picture-taking break.

  They then prepared to continue on toward the next stop, Llulluchapampa, an isolated village in a flat meadow.

  “This next leg of our journey is approximately a two-hour climb, after which we will stop for lunch,” Paolo said as they left the ruins. “It is strenuous, but the cloud forest and extraordinary valley views make it well worth the effort.”

  “You holding up okay?” Brett asked, shrugging his backpack onto his broad shoulders.

  “Not too bad. I feel better since I ate something.”

  “Me, too.”

  “It’s weird, but just when I start to think ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ we see something else amazing. Another species of orchid or bird or these latest ruins, and it hits me what an incredible experience this is.” She rolled her sore shoulders and grimaced at the deep ache radiating down her back. “Of course there have also been plenty of moments when I’ve thought I’d be just as happy, if not happier, looking at pictures of this place while in the comfort of my own bathroom-equipped apartment.”

  The hike resumed, and Paolo had not exaggerated about the difficulty of the climb. There was little conversation, for which she was grateful, as ignoring the growing ache in her legs and back required all her concentration. Yet, as hard as the going was, the sights were astounding. They literally walked through clouds, fingers of white vapor brushing over them, dissipating as they passed.

  The views of the verdant valley and churning river below brought exclamations of wonder, and camera shutters clicked at regular intervals. When they finally stopped for lunch, the entire group released a collective groan of relief. Kayla shrugged off her backpack, letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud. She then plopped down beside it, closed her eyes and groaned.

  She felt the thud of Brett’s backpack landing next to hers. Heard his long release of breath as he sat next to her. Felt his hand settle on hers.

  “I used to think my yoga and spinning classes were brutal,” she murmured, “but those last two hours really kicked my ass. I think I need a transfusion.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, princess, everyone’s ass is kicked.”

  She peeked her eyes open and noticed that all the other hikers were also sprawled on the ground. It offered little comfort that Ashley, who was probably a good ten years younger than her, looked as wrung-out as Kayla felt. They exchanged weak smiles, then Kayla’s gaze fell upon their guide.

  “Everyone’s ass is kicked except Paolo’s. And his siblings.” She regarded the four Trucero siblings with a baleful, yet grudgingly respectful look. “They all appear fresh and energetic and probably could have sprinted up the damn trail.”

  “They’re used to the altitude.”

  “Right. It’s solely the altitude that has my thighs screaming and my back weeping.”

  “Well, that’s my excuse. And I’m sticking to it.”

  After a simple but delicious lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches, the group started out once again. Before picking up her backpack, Kayla rubbed her lower back and shot the heavy load of crap-as she not so affectionately called it-a dirty look.

  “If all this damn hiking doesn’t make my ass smaller, I’m going to write a very strongly worded letter of complaint to the Inca Trail authorities.”

  “There i
s nothing wrong with your ass,” Brett assured her.

  “Right. Except that it feels like it’s dragging on the ground. And, according to Paolo, aka Mr. Susie Sunshine, we haven’t yet even hit the most difficult part of the day’s hike.”

  “We’re now about to embark on the most rigorous and punishing segment of our journey,” said Mr. Susie Sunshine, and Kayla barely managed not to groan. Rigorous and punishing. Sooo not the two words her already abused muscles wanted to hear.

  “The terrain will change from light woodland to scrub, and then to grassland and bare slope, growing ever more rugged until we reach the highest point on the trail at nearly fourteen thousand feet, Abra de Huarmihuanusqa, or Dead Woman’s Pass. The origin of the name is unknown.”

  “Seems self-explanatory to me,” Kayla said, in an undertone to Brett. “Unfortunately.”

  They started off and Kayla quickly realized that punishing and rigorous were understatements. She would have used torturous and grueling. The going was slow, the thin air forcing numerous thirty-second breaks. The sun scorched down in brutal, relentless rays, baking them, only for the weather to abruptly change to freezing winds as they neared the summit.

  She might have voiced her misery out loud, but she simply didn’t have the energy or lung power to do so. All her efforts and strength were required to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  Yet, despite the harshly exhausting conditions, everyone in the group took comfort in that they were all in this together. Clearly misery did love company, and it made it easier to bear the hardship knowing she wasn’t alone.

  When they finally reached the summit, the bedraggled, exhausted hikers all exchanged hugs and high fives. After a well-deserved rest complete with another light snack, they readied themselves to begin the steep descent into the valley toward Pacamayo, where they’d camp for the night.

  Kayla took one last look back at the trail from which they’d come. “Never in my life have I done anything that draining or intense,” she told Brett.