by Ava Miles
“The only addendum to the understanding Boyd and I have concerns your welfare on the trip,” her brother said.
“My welfare?” Her cup rattled as she set it down. “I can handle myself, Con.”
“I know that,” Connor said, “but I told Boyd everyone in the family would feel better if you were accompanied by a family member.”
“Who’d feel better?”
Connor’s brow winged up. “Contrary to what you might think, I do care about your welfare, Michaela. Boyd says the travel won’t be too strenuous. I was thinking Uncle Arthur and Aunt Clara might be a good choice, along with Hargreaves, of course.”
Her mouth twitched, thinking of Aunt Clara’s butler accompanying them. Funny image aside, it wasn’t a bad idea. They were game for anything and would be good buffers. In fact, Aunt Clara had mentioned wanting to come along on one of her treks. She’d thought it would be fun. But Boyd agreeing? Insanity. “You are aware my aunt and uncle and their butler, Hargreaves, are all eighty.”
Boyd stared her down. “I am.”
“And you agreed?” she asked.
“I told Boyd I was uncomfortable asking Dr. Vajra to act as a chaperone and emotional mediator,” her brother said.
“Iggie as chaperone,” she said, shuddering. “That’s ridiculous.”
“That chaperone comment will look funny in a minute,” Boyd said, clearing his throat.
She shot him a glance as he and her brother shared a look she didn’t understand.
“Given your history,” Connor said, “Uncle Arthur and Aunt Clara can ensure things remain professional. We may also want to document the story too, and no one would be better suited for the job than Arthur Hale.”
Their honorary uncle, Arthur Hale, was a famous journalist who’d founded the newspaper known as the Voice of the West. The fact that he’d recently retired would only make an article, or series of articles, from him that much more valuable. Still, she suspected her brother’s primary concern was that Boyd might make a move on her. Or worse, that she’d try and jump his bones. He wasn’t wrong. She’d taken one look at him and gone all achy in the belly. His familiar scent hadn’t helped. “Your faith in me is inspiring, Con.”
“I also trust that if there is more of the emotional interplay between the two of you that I saw earlier—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, trying to keep a straight face.
Boyd snorted. “Really? You know, my mom might suspect foul play if I end up dying on this trip.”
This time she snorted. “Your mom loves me. When we broke up, she called me to say how upset she was. She cried on the phone, you moron.”
He flinched, his naturally leonine skin color leaching to white. “She didn’t say—”
“This interplay is exactly what I mean,” Connor said. “Besides Uncle Arthur and Aunt Clara, Dr. Vajra will also be representing Merriam Enterprises.”
Now Boyd’s comment made sense. She lurched to her feet as Boyd held out his hands and said, “Told ya.”
He and Iggie had never gotten along. “No way. Connor, I don’t need him to babysit me.” Or boss her around, something he excelled at doing. Iggie was a Grade-A scientist, no doubt about it, but he was as obnoxious as he was qualified.
Unfortunately for everyone who worked beneath him, he was also a renowned kiss-ass to the people who “mattered.”
“Besides being impractical,” she continued, “there’s a reason Merriam sends entry-level employees into the field.” She had her doctorate, sure, but she wasn’t afraid of sleeping under the stars. Iggie would want hotel rooms or luxury tents.
Connor smoothly rose, buttoning his gray suit jacket like he had all the time in the world. “This is an important find, and Dr. Vajra will be an asset. He’s a noted researcher and the head of our Plant Sciences division. Plus, if you got hurt on this trip, Merriam Enterprises would have no one representing it. I can’t take that chance.”
“But he doesn’t have the right field skills.” She cast a glance at Boyd. “I shudder to think how he’d react to peeing outside.”
“Crude, Michaela,” her brother said. “I imagine everyone will rise to the occasion.”
“Boyd, please, tell my brother how ill-suited Iggie is for this trip.” How you two are like oil and water.
Boyd finally stood. “Your brother insisted on this point, Michaela. We’ll make it work.”
“Make it work?” Boyd didn’t compromise. It was one of the things she’d always liked about him.
“It’s what your brother wants to make this happen.” His voice sounded pained, but it didn’t waver.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and jingled change.
As a tell, it was obvious. He was hiding something. She blinked, then narrowed her eyes.
Connor gestured to Boyd. “He had some conditions of his own.”
Hence his quick agreement to Connor’s ridiculous terms. “Of course he did,” she said, her voice laced with frustration. “Let me guess. He won’t tell you where the valley is.”
Her ex-boyfriend’s mouth tipped up. “I figure we all bring some trust issues to the table, so it’s allowed. I’ll fill you in incrementally as we proceed.”
“You’re spoon-feeding me the itinerary? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Tell her the other condition,” Connor said, smoothing his tie.
“I can’t guarantee we’ll be able to extract the find,” Boyd said.
She rocked back on her heels. “Why not? If we find it, it’s—”
“A piece of cake?”
There he went, finishing her sentences again.
“Before we go any further, we should call Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur and talk about them accompanying you two,” Connor interrupted, moving toward his desk and picking up the phone. “Martha, will you get Arthur and Clara Merriam Hale on the line, please?”
He punched a button on the console and set the receiver down on the desk, motioning Michaela closer.
It rang twice before Uncle Arthur answered and barked, “Hale residence.”
“Uncle Arthur, this is Connor and Michaela. How are you this fine day?”
“About as fine as I was yesterday, sonny,” he spat back. “Why in the world are you calling? I didn’t know the Big Bad Wolf made personal calls during the day. Now Michaela is another story. How are you, honey?”
“Pretty good,” she said, smiling. “Can you get Aunt Clara on the line?”
“That sounds ominous,” he said. “She’s doing her pretzel-thing this morning to increase her stamina and live longer. I’ll see if she can untangle herself.”
“Pretzel-thing?” Connor whispered.
Colorful speech was their uncle’s staple. She laughed. “Yoga.”
“Ah,” he said, shaking his head.
“You’ve got us both here now,” her uncle said. “What’s got you two calling on a workday?”
“Business,” Connor said. “I have a proposition for you. Do you remember that jerk who betrayed Michaela and broke her heart?”
Boyd shot her brother a look that could have stopped a gangster in his tracks.
“Is he still bothering her?” Aunt Clara asked. “I could bean him with a frying pan for hurting our girl.”
Boyd was studying his toes now, Michaela noticed. Good. Best he understand how things were going to be with her and her aunt and uncle, if they came.
“Well, it seems Boyd has found this rare flower that’s known for being a cure-all, and for business reasons, I’ve agreed that Merriam Enterprises will partner with him.”’
“Must be a big find for you to partner with someone like that,” her aunt said.
“I’m right here in the room,” Boyd whispered.
“Shhh,” Michaela said, whacking him with a hand.
“Anyway, I’m loath to send her with this jerk alone,” Connor said, giving Boyd a pointed look, “so I’d like to know if you’d
be willing to go to Africa with them and chaperone. Maybe break up a few emotional moments. We’d also love to have you write some articles about the experience, Uncle Arthur, if you’re so inclined. The travel shouldn’t be too strenuous. Mostly Land Rover and boat.”
“Speak for your own bones,” Uncle Arthur spat out. “I haven’t been in a Defender
90 since my safari in 1978, and my backside still twinges every now and then when I see a picture of a lion.”
“Oh, stop dramatizing, you old poop,” Aunt Clara said. “I’ve always wanted to go on safari. Michaela, honey, we’ve talked about going on one of your trips. This sounds like a capital idea.”
“Does it?” Uncle Arthur drawled. “I’ll need some background if you expect any articles to come of this. I don’t do that for just anyone now that I’m retired, you know.”
“No, you still only read a dozen newspapers every day and drive me crazy,” her aunt said, making him harrumph. “Michaela, do tell your uncle what he needs to know.”
She gave her smile plenty of teeth as she glanced at Boyd. “Well, we’ll be seeking a fabled healing flower in a place called the Valley of Stars. Until now, no one has found it because it’s been a carefully guarded secret.” She gestured to Boyd. “Care to add anything?”
“Who are you talking to, dear?” her aunt said.
“Me,” Boyd replied. “I’m the jerk you all have been talking about.”
“Oh, goodness!” Aunt Clara breathed out. “Well, hello there.”
Uncle Arthur barked out a laugh. “I hope you have a thick skin. You’ll need it.”
“If not, I’ll ask to borrow a rhino’s,” Boyd said. “Good to meet you both. Delighted to have you on board. So, picking up where Michaela left off, the valley hasn’t been located because it’s been closely guarded by a tribe for centuries. From what I’ve discovered, a few other people may have found it, but no one’s been allowed to bring out the flower.”
“Why are they allowing someone to bring it out now?” Uncle Arthur asked. “Clara, where is my pad and pencil? I need to write this down.”
“Will you please try and be a retired journalist, dear?” Aunt Clara asked.
“Black ink runs through these veins, my love,” he said.
“The tribe is looking for an ethical partner to share the flower find with the world. The tribe realizes the find won’t stay hidden much longer. Locals are leaving their tribal areas for opportunities in the cities. Heck, even the Maasai have cell phones now to communicate with the children they’re sending away to school.”
“Urbanization’s long reach,” her uncle mused.
“You found someone from the tribe who told you all this?” Michaela asked. If he was this confident, he had more than a lead—he had an in.
He shrugged again. She bit her lip to keep from yelling at him. He’d never held out on her before.
“Do you know when the valley was first mentioned in a text or book?” Uncle Arthur asked. “I’d like to do some reading.”
Boyd gestured for her to take this one. “The first mention was in a travel journal by a British naturalist in 1878. He’d come upon the location while documenting birds in the area. He fell sick, and the tribe supposedly found him and healed him with the star-shaped flower. After he left, he told two friends about his miraculous recovery. They went out to search for the location.”
“Sounds like a page out of Allan Quatermain in King Solomon’s Mines,” Uncle Arthur said. “That would make one hell of a story.”
Michaela’s excitement was building too. This was starting to feel like more than a trick or ruse. They might actually be on the cusp of making history.
“My goodness,” her aunt said breathily. “Do they know what became of the two friends?”
“The story goes that one never returned, and the other was said to have gotten sick and died,” Boyd said. “The tribe didn’t heal the man since he’d come out of greed.”
Connor frowned. “Greed, huh? Boyd, you left out that part.”
“There are lots of stories out there,” Boyd said, pulling on his jacket like it was uncomfortable. “Right, Mickey?”
So he wanted her to have his back, huh? He’d make it up to her later. “Exactly. Connor, this really is the chance of a lifetime.”
Boyd nodded. “Bottom line. We’re the tribe’s best bet for going global.”
“And two companies working together looks less greedy,” Michaela said, back in the flow of reading his thoughts and anticipating his next sentence. “It shows collaboration. They’ll know we’re capable of being team players and working with them rather than taking the flower for ourselves.”
“Yes,” Boyd said with a glance at her brother. “Plus, in our business, Michaela and I are what some call true believers.”
Yes, they were, and it was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him.
“But we aren’t the only true believers,” Boyd added, pointing to his watch. “I’d like to get going as soon as possible.”
“We’ll be ready as soon as you need us, won’t we, Arthur?” her aunt said. “And Michaela, don’t worry about Boyd there. I swear to you on Grandpa Emmits’ grave that I won’t let him do anything to upset you. I’ll bring my new sewing scissors in case he tries something. They’re extra sharp.”
Boyd made a show of crossing his hands over his privates, a move that normally would have made her laugh. Instead, she made a point of not staring at said privates. She had a feeling she was still tempted in that department.
“Hargreaves will be on watch too, dear,” her aunt said in that emphatic way of hers.
“As will I,” her uncle said. “So when do we leave?”
Connor shifted his gaze to Boyd. “Our private jet will pick the three of you up in…say three days? Will that be enough time to prepare for the trip?”
“Are you asking us or Michaela?” Uncle Arthur asked.
“No, three days won’t be enough,” Boyd said, shaking his head. “These nice people will need vaccinations and malaria medicine, right, Mickey? Oops, sorry. Michaela?”
“Yes,” she said, tapping her foot in excitement. “Care to narrow it down enough to tell us what country we’re traveling to? It has a bearing on the shots and such, you know.”
He smirked again. “Kenya with a little jaunt to Tanzania perhaps. Maybe even Uganda.”
Three sizeable countries situated around Lake Victoria. How nice. “Clear as mud,” she said, flicking her hand at him as if to swat a gnat.
He laughed and gestured right back.
“Shots!” Uncle Arthur said. “Maybe we should rethink this. My backside is too bony for needles these days.”
“You’ll be fine,” her aunt assured him.
“I’ll arrange for an infectious disease doctor to visit you in Dare Valley tomorrow,” Connor said. “I hope I don’t regret this.”
“Wonderful!” Aunt Clara said. “In that case, how soon can we travel?”
Michaela got enough checkups before her treks to know the answer. “Two weeks is best.”
Late October would be the perfect time for a trek across the savannah. It was one of the driest times of the year, and temperatures would be in the high seventies to low eighties during the day, dipping to low sixties or high fifties at night. The wildebeest would be starting to migrate. Breathtaking. Nature was the best office in the world to her mind.
“That works for me,” Boyd said. “Since I can’t make the shots work faster.”
“Finally, you agree you aren’t a miracle worker.” The smile she gave him was all teeth.
“No, guess not,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “I lost you, after all, didn’t I?”
Is that how he felt? There was nothing she could say to that.
Boyd looked away, picked up his coffee, and drained it. “I assume you’ll inform Iggie of the details, Connor.”
“Yes, of course,” her brother said.
“One final condition before I go. Have Flynn undo whate
ver he’s done to my satellite cable TV. Since we broke up, the only show it plays is Dora the Explorer. Twenty-four seven. It was funny for a day, but not six months. Even Marvin’s bored of it.”
Marvin being his Tokay gecko. She wanted to ask about the little guy, but instead she said, “Flynn did that?”
“You didn’t know?” he asked. “The cable people were worried about the hack, but I assured them it was targeted at me once I deduced the culprit.”
Connor was already laughing, and Michaela bit her lip to keep from joining him. Flynn would see it as a brotherly show of revenge to force Boyd to endure endless reruns of her favorite TV show from childhood.
“That’s a good one,” Arthur said, guffawing. “I’ll be sure to remember not to piss off Flynn.”
“Then I believe that covers it,” Boyd said. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. and Mrs. Hale. Connor. Michaela.”
He walked out of the office after saluting her. Saluting her.
“Since he’s gone, is there anything else we should know?” Aunt Clara asked.
Connor turned his head to look at her, his smile fading. “Yes, Aunt. Michaela is still in love with that jerk.”
Her heart burned in her chest as silence permeated the room.
Her brother was right.
Chapter 2
Boyd didn’t like being summoned to the Merriam compound in chi-chi Napa Valley, but he didn’t feel like he could refuse—not when Shawn Merriam himself had texted to request his appearance hours after his meeting at Merriam Enterprises.
At least the unexpected invitation gave him an excuse to text her. He suspected she was done ignoring him. She’d be pissed that he’d boxed her into this trip, but now that they were technically colleagues again, she was too professional to ice him out.
Your DAD wants to talk to me at six tonight at the house. If you don’t hear from me again, you might see if he buried me facedown in the vineyard. If you want to make sure I survive, you might want to show up at 6:15 to intervene. Also, I didn’t want to go to Connor. I wanted to go to you. We should talk.
She didn’t reply for nearly an hour, which must have killed her. One, she always answered promptly unless she was out of the country. Two, she’d want to know why her father had summoned him. And three, she’d want to kick him in the proverbial balls for his comment about Connor. He should probably wear an athletic cup tonight.