"I don't want twenty minutes, English. I want forever."
His assertion struck her dumb. All she could do was stare up at him.
"No answer?" he prompted with a firming of his mouth.
"Why would you even bring that up?" she asked, feeling strangely betrayed, and even to her own ears, she sounded stricken. "Didn't you hear a word I told you yesterday? What we're feeling isn't going to last. It's only temporary!"
"Are you sure you're not trying to convince yourself?"
"No!" she railed. "I'm trying to tell you what I know to be true."
His face hardened. "So what are we doing here? All you want from me is a short-term fling, right?" he concluded.
His accusation flooded her with shame. But she'd been alone a long time. Who was he to judge her? "Well, why not?" she asked on a note of desperation.
His answering smile failed to reach his eyes. "I'm sorry, Emma," he said in a low voice, "but I don't do temporary."
Reaching for the shirt he had cast onto the adjacent seat, he swung himself off her chair and stalked to the railing where he threaded his arms through his sleeves and started buttoning it, keeping his back to her.
Shoot! Awash in chagrin, Emma clambered off the chaise longue, tugging her dress down and quickly zipping it up. Regret pressured her chest. An apology hovered in her throat. She had chased him away—again. Was she destined to repeat history? Couldn't she just acknowledge his romanticism and relent to the possibility of forever?
No, she couldn't. It would be cruel to mislead him. One of them had to be a realist.
"I think I should go," she said, locating her sandals and slipping them on. Her body ached, unfulfilled. Why couldn't Jeremiah be an opportunist like most men?
"I'll walk you out," he offered as she headed to the door, her knees wobbling slightly.
Moments later, he peeked into the hall and motioned for her to follow, before closing the door softly behind them.
In silence, they rode the elevator to the tenth level and coursed the busy corridor. In the casino, they found Tristan and Juliet exchanging their buckets full of coins for a more practical form of currency. Juliet glanced over at their approach and did a double take.
Her gray eyes searched Emma's face. With a word to Tristan, she broke away to pull her sister off to one side. "Are you all right?" she asked.
Emma fought the urge to cry. "I'm fine. Congrats on winning so much money. Is he going to give you some?"
"Half," Juliet replied, her gaze watchful. "We interrupted something," she guessed.
"I'm going to go get Sammy now," Emma said, not bothering to answer. Walking away, she had to pass Jeremiah on her way to the hall. He shot her a guarded glance, his expression identical to the day she'd begged him to drop her class.
Averting her gaze, she hurried off toward Kids' Zone.
* * *
Juliet watched her sister leave. Not five seconds later, Bullfrog turned and did the same, heading in a different direction.
"I wish we hadn't texted them," she lamented as Tristan turned to her with a fat wad of dollar bills. "They needed more time to work things out."
"Tomorrow, we wake up in Belize," he recalled. "You three are supposed to go tubing while Bullfrog and I ride ATVs."
"Right. And tubing is an all-day affair. They're not going to work things out if they're not spending time together."
"We could rectify that." He slapped the bills against his palm.
"How?" she asked.
"I tell Bullfrog that I'm dying to impress you with my driving skills and ask him to trade his excursion ticket for yours."
The twinkle in his dark blue eyes disturbed her because she couldn't tell if he was serious or joking. Did he really want to show off his skills to her, or was he mocking himself, which she'd noticed he had a tendency to do? It was one of the many things she liked about him, actually.
"You're assuming that I'd willingly give up my ticket in order to be with you." She propped her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at him. "Don't you think you're exaggerating your charm just a little?"
He belted out a laugh that caused her own lips to twitch.
"I was hoping you wouldn't notice that," he replied. "But, seriously, Bullfrog would much rather tube through those Mayan caves than get his thrills and chills watching me drive. He gets enough of that whenever we train in the desert."
Picturing Tristan behind the wheel of a desert patrol vehicle made her smile. The crazy nut had to love every minute of being a SEAL.
"What about me?" she asked him. "Am I going to enjoy myself four-wheeling?"
"I'll make sure of it. Plus I'll take you shopping in Belize City afterward and spend my half of the winnings on you." He waggled his eyebrows as he started counting out the money.
"Too bad I hate shopping," she retorted.
He glanced up in astonishment. "A woman who hates shopping?"
"There are a few of us," she allowed.
"Damn," he shook his head and looked back down at the bills in his hands. "Where have you been all my life?" he muttered.
Her pulse skipped at the comment, which clearly hadn't meant anything because he went right back to counting. "Two thousand three hundred, four hundred, five hundred. Here's your half." He held it out to her. "Don't spend it all at once, unless you want to buy me a new motorcycle."
"Right," she said, grabbing hold of the money.
But he did not let go. "Can I get a thank-you kiss for sharing my money with you?" he asked innocently.
She repressed the thrill that raced through her. "Technically, I won it all because I pulled the handle," she said.
"If you say so." He grinned at her but he still didn't let her have her half.
Heaving a sigh of mock disgust, Juliet slid the fingers of her free hand into his wavy hair and pulled his head down, glimpsing surprise in his eyes. She tried not to smile as she molded her lips against his sensually shaped mouth.
Mmm. Nice. Lingering just long enough to hint at what he would miss, she pulled away, tugging the money out of his slack fingers as she stepped back.
"I'll see you in the Fiesta Galley at 8:30 a.m.," she said. "Bring Bullfrog's excursion ticket, and I'll bring mine."
With a smile that felt far more flirtatious than she intended, she brushed past him, pocketing her money in the black shorts she wore and walking away fast.
"Don't follow me, don't follow me," she chanted as she hurried to the elevator.
God, she loved raising the ante on Tristan by keeping him on his toes, but she'd come off looking like a femme fatale just now, and the truth was she'd had very little practice at that.
Tristan's appeal gave her cause to fear that she might actually fall for him. And then where would she be? She'd be just another one of his conquests, memorable only for the fact that she'd helped him to get over Mariah, whom she'd heard enough about in the last seventy-two hours to decide she was the most adolescent, manipulative woman on planet Earth. Juliet did not want to follow in that woman's footsteps.
"Juliet."
Oh, crap, he was coming after her! Resisting a backward glance, she increased her speed. He could move a lot faster in his loafers than she could in her three-inch heels.
"Wait."
She rounded the corner pretending not to hear him.
Waiting for the elevator was out of the question. If he caught up to her, she was fairly certain what would happen next. He would back her into a corner and finish the kiss she'd just laid on him. Only he would give it to her long and deep. Her legs went weak at the thought.
If she took the stairs, she might get away yet.
Too bad that option didn't sound as exciting as the first one. And she was supposed to be living it up on this cruise. But Emma would be looking for her when she got back with Sammy. She would need someone to talk to, and that someone had always been Juliet, the down-to-earth sister. She couldn't afford to get sidetracked.
Plus, the alternative of yielding to Tristan's
incredible appeal while in the elevator would most certainly lead to something more. And having sex with him would be S-T-U-P-I-D.
Turning the corner, she ripped off her heels and bounded down the stairs, taking them three at a time. By the time Tristan neared the elevator, she would have vanished from his sight.
* * *
"Where are you going?" Emma called as Juliet crossed the boardwalk. "We're over here," she added, pointing out the excursion sign marked "Bottoms Up Cave Tubing."
Juliet came back, tugging the brim of her pink golf cap lower to shade her eyes. "Oh, I forgot to tell you." She gestured toward the other group where Tristan stood, conspicuously fit and tan amidst paunch-bellied men and skinny youths. "I'm switching excursions with Bullfrog, so I can hang out with Tristan. I hope that's okay with you," she added.
Emma snapped her open mouth shut and glared at Tristan, who stood there scratching his neck and trying to act like he hadn't planned the whole thing.
"You're setting me up," she accused her sister—although looking around, she couldn't see Jeremiah anywhere.
Juliet hitched her backpack higher. "Look, caves really don't do anything for me. Claustrophobic, remember? Plus I'd really like to spend the day with Tristan," she tacked on.
Torn, Emma looked back at the golden-haired SEAL. He and Juliet made an attractive couple. Good for her—living up to their promise and having a good time.
"Fine," she relented. "Just watch yourself," she warned.
Juliet took a step back in her direction. "What does that mean?"
Emma glanced at Sammy to make sure she wasn't listening. "I've heard that Tristan's never been alone, and I know you like your freedom. That's all."
Juliet's eyes narrowed under the brim of her ball cap. "Thanks," she said.
Turning away, her sister joined Tristan's group while Emma searched the pier for Jeremiah. After the previous night's abrupt derailment, she wouldn't blame him if he skipped the day's excursion altogether.
One by one, groups boarded their buses and departed, including Tristan and Juliet's, but the Bottoms-up-Cave-Tubing people hung around waiting for their missing passenger. Emma eyed the thunderclouds looming on the inland horizon, surging toward Belize City. Maybe this wasn't the best day to go tubing anyway.
"Well, it's time to go," said the guide, shepherding them toward the bus.
Disappointment dragged Emma's steps. Jeremiah wasn't coming. Why was she so glum when she was the one who'd insisted they had no future together?
As the bus idled in preparation to leave, their guide sketched them a brief history of Belize. The bus gave a shudder and Emma looked up to see Jeremiah making his way up the aisle. He shot her a grin that made his dimple flash and dropped into an empty bench across from her and Sammy's.
To her surprise, she read no recrimination in his expression—just the same intellectual eagerness she had remarked in him from their very first meeting.
"Why is he coming?" Sammy muttered in a glum voice. The bus began to move.
Emma turned her head to look at her daughter. "Aunt Juliet gave him her ticket." Sammy's sullen expression perplexed her. "Don't you like him?" she asked softly.
Sammy shrugged before turning her gaze out the window.
Emma heaved an inward sigh. Well, if that wasn't a sign, she didn't know what was. Sammy didn't want another father figure in her life, and who could blame her, given what Eddie had done? Yet the urge to defend Jeremiah, to point out his endless virtues, caught her off guard. She wanted her daughter to like him, but what was the point? They weren't going to deepen their relationship. He wasn't going to be part of their lives, so Sammy's opinion made no difference one way or another.
She stared out the window at the flat, lush terrain, her heart heavy.
* * *
Samantha Albright followed her mother up the jungle path. With her every step, the tube she carried bounced off her calves. The hot bus ride into the desolate countryside had been followed by a lunch of yellow rice and chicken. When she'd heard a rumor that the meat was actually iguana, she had lunged for the last hamburger, but some man swiped it right out from under her. As it turned out, iguana tasted just like chicken.
After lunch, they were given life jackets and headlamps and told to pick out an inner tube. Hers was almost as wide as she was tall, which meant she had to carry it on top of her head and down her back. Through the thin tread of her water shoes she could feel every rock that lined the trail. They had crossed the stream twice on their way through the jungle, and the water was cold.
"Can I carry that for you?"
"No thanks." Sammy sneaked a peek at Jeremiah Winters.
He nodded at her reply and walked around her.
He looked too old to have ever been her mother's student. She had to admit that he had a nice face, which made it hard to hate him. But she didn't have to like him, either.
Her mother liked him, though, which was unsettling. Sammy could tell by the way her gaze latched onto him as he bounded to the head of the line. He didn't shuffle along like everyone else; he bounced when he walked, like this hike was easy. He chatted up their new guide—a little guy with nut-brown skin who explained that he was Mayan.
Guilt dogged Sammy's heels. If her mother really liked Jeremiah, then maybe she should act a little friendlier. But then she'd seen what her father had done to them. Men couldn't be trusted to stick around.
After the cruise was over and they went home, her mom would forget about him. Things would settle down again—with her mother staying home alone on weekends. Sammy frowned.
"You won't see any toucans unless you look up."
Her mother's admonition had her raising her eyes to the dark fronds overhead. Though she didn't see any toucans, a monkey leaping from one branch to another captivated her. She couldn't help but smile.
At last, they arrived at the narrow beach where they would launch their rafts. When they came out from under the trees, they realized it was raining. Droplets of water dimpled the tea-colored water.
A rumble of thunder had them all glancing upward.
"Don't worry," said their guide as raindrops spattered their tubes. "You will get wet anyway."
Following his instructions, they waded into the water and climbed onto their tubes. Their guide lashed the floats together, and Sammy found herself beside her mother and in front of Jeremiah, his knees on either side of her head. Her mother pretended to ignore him, but her eyes were shining.
The guide began to pull them through the shallow water.
"Bottoms up!" he called, as he pulled their tubes over a bed of sleek pebbles.
The rain fell faster, pelting Samantha's arms and legs. As the water deepened, the guide started to swim. Holding the rope in his mouth, he kept the flotilla moving at a steady pace. The water grew cloudier as mud poured off the land into the stream.
Her mother sent a worried glance back at Jeremiah.
The rain shower didn't bother Sammy. Wiped out from staying up late every night at Kids' Zone, she rested her head against the back of her life vest, turned her cheek to the rain, and closed her eyes. The adult-sized vest rode up her skinny torso. Like a turtle, she felt her chin retreat into her shell.
"Honey, don't fall asleep," she heard her mother say. "You'll miss the cenotes."
"Wake me up when we get there." Sammy released the buckle on her vest so it wouldn't scrape her chin. In a semi-conscious state, she felt them moving faster. A couple of times, the rafts around her bumped into hers, rousing her briefly.
What seemed like only seconds later, a gentle hand shook her awake. "Sammy, wake up. We're going into the caves."
Dragging her eyelids open, she saw the sky give way to a high rocky roof. Darkness encapsulated them.
"Turn on your lamps," their guide called from up front.
Sammy didn't bother. For a while she listened to him talk about the bats living in holes in the sandstone. Then he spoke of the ancient Mayan rituals that had taken place within these cav
erns, as evidenced by the pottery shards found in the profound depths falling away beneath their rafts.
"Sammy, look," came her mother's voice. "You're missing the waterfall."
She pried her eyes open again. Craning her neck from her shell, she stole a peek. They'd come to a spot where the roof of the cave opened to the forest floor high above them. Water gushed through the opening and crashed into a basin-shaped pool. It overflowed, splashing the occupants of the tubes as the guide led them along the lip of the sinkhole.
Too sleepy to keep her eyes open, she fell back against her tube. The guide's voice sounded over the thunder of the falls.
"The sink hole is rumored to be bottomless."
His words merged into a dream about an underwater treasure.
"Can't you slow us down?" An irritated, male voice startled Sammy from her light sleep. "We're going too quickly."
The tubes jammed together as the guide put his back to the flotilla to slow them down. Jeremiah's tube bumped forcefully into Sammy's. She felt her head slip through her unfastened life vest. Her bottom went straight through the hole in her tube. She groped the slick rubber to catch herself, squeezed her knees to halt her descent, but the current sucked her entire body through the opening.
Water filled her nose and ears. The current seized her, keeping her from rising the same way she'd gone down. She clawed her way toward the surface but went nowhere. Panic jolted her wide awake. She realized she was drowning.
Chapter 7
Emma saw Sammy's feet flail in the dark then disappear. She lunged in her direction only to come away with an empty life vest.
"Stop!"
Her shriek of horror sounded over the waterfall and echoed off the sandstone walls as she threw herself over the spot where her daughter had vanished, fishing for her with panicked outstretched arms.
The flotilla of tubes gave a shudder. A light splash let her know that Jeremiah had rolled into the water, leaving his life vest behind. She swung her headlamp around in time to see him loop under the surface like a dolphin. The guide also went under, headlamp and all. Alarm rippled over the small group as they held a collective breath.
Friendly Fire (The Echo Platoon Series, Book 3) Page 7