When It Hooks You

by Nicki Elson

  “Not the whole weekend.” He tickled her bottom lip with his thumb while the rest of his fingers curled against her jaw. “Our hosts this evening are old-fashioned. It would be best to limit any physical contact while we stay with them.”

  “Oh?” She wanted to ask him why he’d make such an arrangement but didn’t want to sound ungrateful or waste what was left of their limited kissing time. His lips were back on hers, greedily sucking her breath into his mouth. When he pulled back, it was with what seemed like a tremendous amount of effort. Trish grinned, gratified by his blatant desire for her.

  The car pulled up to a large adobe home. Its wide first floor was topped by a narrow second story rising at its center. The pale corn color of the outer walls stood in gentle contrast to the darker ruddiness of the tiled roof. As the car crunched on the gravel drive, the screen door at the front of the house opened. A short, ebony-haired man and a slightly taller woman with equally black hair came out to greet them.

  Adam pulled away from Trish, opening his door and stepping from the car. “Buenos tardes,” he called to the couple. He walked around the back of the vehicle to open the door for Trish. Adam said more words in Spanish, ending with “Trisha.” To her, he said, “These are our hosts, Luis and Elina.”

  Trish smiled, shaking Luis’ and then Elina’s hands.

  “Con mucho gusto,” Elina said, nodding and smiling. Trish repeated the phrase back to her, hoping she was correct in assuming it was a polite greeting. Those three years of Spanish in high school had apparently been wasted.

  The couple ushered them inside, where Trish did more smiling while Spanish words flew rapid fire around her. Adam’s rich voice rolled easily over the unfamiliar syllables. He could’ve been butchering the language for all she knew, but to her he sounded like a linguistic maestro. Though she didn’t understand a word being spoken, she could see by Adam’s relaxed posture and hear in Luis’ and Elina’s hearty laughter that there was genuine rapport among the trio.

  Trish felt immediately comfortable here, so much so that she nearly forgot Adam’s instruction to limit physical contact. His tight, narrow waist was so close, practically begging for her arms to wrap around it. She wanted to burrow the side of her face into the crook of his neck so she could feel the vibration of his Spanish as it formed at the base of his throat. Luckily, there was plenty of eye candy to distract from her desire to rub against him like a lascivious cat. While the others talked, she studied the tasteful muted tones of the open rooms offset by bold pops of color via tiled countertops and Mayan textiles.

  Elina led them out the back door to a narrow veranda. The four of them took seats on the modest wooden furniture. Trish and Elina shared a long bench while the men took separate seats. A young woman soon followed with a tray loaded with glasses, bottles of water, and iced tea. Amid the continuing discussion, Trish sat back with her tea, taking in the stunning view. Hills covered in thick and varied vegetation rolled all the way up to the oversized red tiles of the porch. Misty mountain peaks in the background began to fade into darkness as dusk settled all around them.

  Adam turned to Trish. “Elina says she knows we must be tired and hungry from our travel, so dinner will be served soon. She asked if you enjoy spicy foods.”

  “Sí,” Trish said, nodding with an enthusiastic smile.

  The foursome soon relocated to the long dining table inside, where they passed plates of warm corn tortillas, black beans, and stuffed red peppers. Adam did his best to keep Trish tied into the conversation. Elina was able to speak short phrases in English, which also helped. Trish gleaned enough information to understand that Luis and Elina were business associates of Adam’s.

  Neither of the flights that day had been long, nor had Trish changed time zones, so she was caught off guard when jet lag set in. As the meal continued, she zoned out on even the English words. When the young woman from earlier cleared the dishes, perceptive Elina came over and took Trish’s hand. She led her to an upstairs bedroom, where Trish saw someone had deposited her bag.

  “Duerma bien, Trisha,” Elina said, touching her hand to Trish’s cheek. Elina shut the door as she left, and Trish stretched her arms wide in the small, sparse room. She changed into her pajamas and crawled under the covers on the twin-sized mattress. She was too tired to worry about washing up—but not so overcome with sleepiness that she wasn’t disappointed Adam hadn’t been the one to walk her to her room.

  A soft tapping at the bedroom door roused Trish the next morning. “Yes?” she said, somewhat disoriented.

  The door creaked open, and Adam poked in his head. His hair was in a casual, un-sculpted style, but he’d clearly paid it some attention. “Sorry. I’d let you sleep longer, but if you want to shower before we get going on our day, you should probably get started.”

  “What time is it?” she asked. The lighting in the room was still dim.

  “It’s going onto nine.”

  “What?” She shot straight up to sitting, barely thinking to throw an arm across her unbridled breasts covered only by her thin tank top. “But it’s still so dark. How can it be that late?”

  “Heavy clouds this morning.”

  She blinked until her vision cleared. “I can’t believe I slept that long.”

  Adam smiled but stayed outside the room, the door not budging an inch further open. “Luis and Elina have gone ahead of us. The bathroom is down the hall, and coffee and breakfast are in the kitchen.”

  He left her then, and she hurried through her morning ritual. After she’d showered and dressed, Adam allowed her enough time to swallow a cup of velvety rich coffee, some scrambled eggs, and fried plantains before whisking her to the dusty Jeep that their hosts kept for guest use. As they bumped along a dirt road, he explained that he was taking her to see his newest business venture.

  The car slowed as they approached a small grove of spindly trees. Adam parked and led her to walk among the trunks. She now noticed several large pods, bigger than her hand, growing up the base of the trees and amid the wide, glossy leaves. Taller trees towered above the shorter, pod-bearing ones, creating a pleasant, dappled shade in the humidity.

  “Should I have brought breadcrumbs?” Trish asked, following him further into the woods.

  “Nervous about being in a strange land with a strange man?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “I probably should be. But strangely, Mr. Helms, I feel like I’d follow you anywhere.” She took two extra-long steps to come directly behind him and snake her arms around his waist, like she’d wanted to do since arriving at Luis’ and Elina’s. Lifting onto tiptoes, she touched her lips to the back of his neck.

  He half turned, reaching his arm over her head to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. She tilted her face upward, and he bent his to give her a soft kiss. “I dreamed about you last night,” he murmured against her mouth.

  She wanted to ask for details but they were interrupted by the hum of another vehicle’s engine as it pulled up and idled just beyond the tree line. Adam stepped back, causing her arms to slip from around his waist. A man walked to the edge of the forest, calling out something in Spanish. Adam responded in the same language, speaking so swiftly, Trish had no hope of making out even a hint of meaning. The man said something else, then got back into his truck and drove away.

  “They’re waiting for us,” Adam explained. “But before we go, I’d like you to guess what’s in these pods.”

  She studied the long, almost squash-like, ribbed objects. Some were yellow, others dark orange or even red. Some were roughly the length of a human head, while others were far smaller and shriveled-looking. “Aliens?”

  “No. Not aliens.”

  “Baby dinosaurs?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yes. You figured it out. I intend to make a fortune in the black market dinosaur business.” He started toward the Jeep.

  Trish stood still for a moment, examining the mystery pods, and then dashed to his side. “What’s really in there?”r />
  He smiled but didn’t answer until they were again bouncing along the dirt road. “They’re cacao pods. Inside are seeds used to make cocoa and chocolate. The cacao seed was important in ancient Mayan culture. It was thought to make the drink of the gods and was viewed as valuable enough to be used as currency. But the harvesting and processing of cacao is a labor-intensive prospect. New trees take years to produce ripe fruit, and only a small percentage of the blooms are ever pollinated. Guatemalan agriculture has turned away from cacao to produce more financially profitable crops, like coffee beans and sugar cane.”

  “And you prefer to go into businesses that are less profitable?”

  “Profit can be defined in many ways. What’s the value of preserving cultural tradition? How important is establishing a healthy ecosystem? One reason larger-sized cacao plantations don’t work is because they lack the shade of bigger trees that young cacao trees need to thrive. The environment’s too dry and sunny to attract the midges necessary for pollination. Luis and Elina are helping small-scale farmers establish healthy plantations. Entire communities will be provided with work during the harvest seasons.”

  “Where do you fit in?”

  “In addition to financing, I’m working with them to develop a marketable product. When the time comes, I’ll spearhead the effort to bring the product to sustainable markets.” They pulled up to a long, flat structure with metal walls. “I need to have a brief meeting inside, but Elina has something fun for you to do while you wait.”

  They entered a large room with a long table at one end. Elina was at the table with two young women. She waved Trish over, introducing her to the women, who smiled their hellos. “They show you,” Elina said, nodding at Trish and gesturing for her to have a seat.

  Elina and Adam walked across the open space and disappeared inside a smaller room. Trish could hear other voices coming from beyond the doorway.

  “Worry doll,” enunciated one of the women sitting at the table. She held up a thumb-tip sized figure wrapped in a teeny, colorful outfit. Trish noticed a small pile of miniature dolls on the table, along with wire, yarn, and bits of fabric. For the next hour or so, the girls showed Trish how to bend the wire into a form and then wind yarn and fabric around it to create the tiny dolls. They encouraged her to try it on her own.

  Trish’s creations didn’t look nearly as neat and adorable as the others, but she had fun making them, anyhow. When Adam emerged from the office and came over, she smiled, holding up a tiny man with a tuft of yellow hair and what was supposed to have been a highly stylized purple suit. He laughed, taking it from her. “I’m sure he and I will have many long conversations.”

  Trish quirked an eyebrow in question.

  “These are worry dolls,” Adam explained. “When the bearer has trouble sleeping at night, he tells his worries to the doll and places it under his pillow. The doll takes on the worry, allowing its bearer to sleep in peace.”

  “I like that,” Trish said, smiling up at him.

  “We plan to include a worry doll with each candy bar and each tin of cocoa powder we sell. How do you like this for a slogan: Chocolate and a worry doll—problem solved.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “This way, we can train and employ artisans as well as farmers.”

  He’s so not playing fair, Trish thought to herself. She’d already set Adam on a very high pedestal—now she could add kind-hearted and generous to everything else that attracted her to him. How did a girl stand a chance of ever getting over him? “Will I get to touch you tonight?” she murmured almost involuntarily.

  His eyes opened wide before shifting to glance toward the others. They were engaged in their own conversation several feet away. Swinging his gaze back to her, he murmured, “Would you like to?”

  Pressing her lips into a small smile, she nodded. Heat prickled at her cheeks and up her neck when she took in the inviting way his eyes devoured her.

  “Then I think it’s time for us to get out of here,” he said.

  Chapter 17

  ADAM REACHED ACROSS THE JEEP, taking Trish’s hand into his as he drove into a bustling village. They’d departed from the others and were on their own for the rest of the day. A misting rain had started during their drive, dampening the dirt road and keeping dust clouds from kicking up under cars and trucks as they pounded over it. Adam treated Trish to tapas at a modern café. After lunch, they wandered into a shop, where Trish admired and purchased a richly patterned Mayan huipil-styled tunic. At the market, Adam bought a bottle of wine, some nuts, and fruit.

  It had been far too long since Trish had left the US. Once upon a time, she’d expected her communications degree to lead her all over the world, either working for a news agency or as a marketing professional for an international firm. But life had led her in a different direction, and she’d been happy enough staying put in her favorite city. Until now. This trip had reignited her itch to experience more of the world.

  She and Adam climbed back into the Jeep, and their route took a decidedly upward angle. “Where are we going?” Trish asked, playfully tickling her fingers up Adam’s forearm as he steered.

  “To our accommodations for the evening.” The sun had remained hidden behind clouds all day, but shifting tones of darkening gray indicated it was drawing close to the horizon.

  “We’re not staying with Luis and Elina?” Trish asked.

  “Not tonight.” He kept his eyes steadily on the road. Trish could tell he’d made an effort to keep his tone light, but she heard a thickness in his voice, as if he was teetering on the edge of their agreement to keep from getting too physical.

  Wary of forcing the issue and pushing him back onto the strictly celibate side of the fence, she opted for a subject change. “So, the cacao project…does this the sort of thing make investors in Helms Enterprises nervous?” she asked, eager to confirm the harmless nature of the “new areas” Hayden’s associate Len wasn’t comfortable investing in. It would be vindicating to report back to Lyssa that it was something as innocent as a chocolate bar.

  Adam let out a small laugh. “It makes Helms Enterprises itself nervous. Even under the best scenario, the operation won’t start paying dividends for years. The board would never approve it.”

  “Then how are you involved?”

  “This is what my father would call a hobby. I call it a personal investment.”

  The Jeep continued its climb, and Trish flexed her jaw to relieve the pressure that built around her eardrums with the change in elevation. Adam turned the car onto a narrow drive, and they arrived at a large cabin.

  “Oh no,” Trish said. “All my stuff is still at the house.”

  He smiled. “It’s in the back of the car. I asked the house girl to pack your things and put them in here while you had your coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “You sneaky devil.” Her grin let him know she didn’t mind a bit.

  “Wait here.” He leaned toward her, laying a kiss on her cheek before he went into the cabin and soon returned with a key. They drove a bit further, and Trish spied a deluxe-looking fort perched high in a tree. The car stopped directly beneath it. “Ready to climb?” he asked.

  Trish’s mouth fell open. “Up there? That’s ours?”

  He laughed. “I’ll get our bags.”

  Trish saw that a rough staircase built of thin boards led to their hideaway. She and Adam skittered through the light rain to the bottom step and moved gingerly up the slick slats of wood. They arrived in a small living room with a rustic sofa, two side chairs, and a coffee table. A large window overlooked a stunning view of rolling forests and rocky peaks in the distance. An opening on the adjacent wall revealed a room barely large enough to hold the king-sized bed within it.

  Adam dropped Trish’s bag on the bed and returned to set his own next to the couch. He apparently intended to stick to their “separate rooms” agreement. We’ll see about that, Trish thought, setting the bags of nuts and fruit onto a narrow counter that held a sma
ll sink.

  “If we get hungry for more than that, there’s a restaurant behind the cabin,” Adam said, coming up behind her.

  She turned and reached for his hand. “I think I’ve got everything I need right here.” She cringed. “Oh God. That was horribly cheesy. Can we forget I said it?”

  He laughed. “You haven’t seen the best part yet.” He pulled her around the counter and through a doorway to a covered balcony. It was wide enough to hold a hammock at one end. The view from here was even more gorgeous than any Trish had seen so far. The cool rain against the humidity of the day created an ethereal mist above the rolling forests below them, casting a mysterious haze over the looming mountains.

  Trish and Adam spent a long moment in silence, soaking in the beauty. He spread his arms wide, resting both hands on the thin wooden rail. Everything around them grew dimmer as the sun continued its descent. Their remaining time together ticked steadily away. Trish didn’t want to waste another second. Gently lifting one of his hands, she slid in front of him so that his arms encompassed her. She pulled his hand to her waist and leaned into his chest, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. He pressed his cheek into her hair, and a small, satisfied growl rolled up his throat. She watched the bones at the back of his hand on the rail protrude as he strengthened his grip, exhibiting a tension at odds with the contented sounds she’d just heard from him.

  Staying silent, she hoped her own gentle vibe could somehow calm the racing of his heartbeat against her back. She stared at the underside of the darkening clouds—they looked almost like rippling waves. “Everything about this place is beautiful,” she whispered, snuggling deeper into him.

  After a beat, Adam spoke. His words came out slowly, his voice deeper than usual. “I often feel like I’m being suffocated by the circumstances of my life. This is a place I can come to breathe. Having you here…it’s from a storybook. Too good to be real.” He let go of her waist, returning that hand to the rail, and his face lifted away from her. She felt immediately colder. “Some things are best left in my imagination.”