As he spoke, he looked so deeply into her eyes that she could discern tiny flecks of color in his pupils. Reluctantly, she found herself enraptured once again. She was powerless to ask any further questions. She was swimming in his presence, but struggling to stay afloat, sinking breathlessly beneath the water of his cappuccino eyes.
“I don’t know what to say. The necklace is so beautiful. Thank you. I’m just so shocked right now.” Herculea said in a soft tone, as Pedro reached over and gave her hand a squeeze, banishing any doubts that he was a hallucination.
“De nada. You look like you need a good meal. Let me take you somewhere.”
He enfolded her hand in his and started to lead her towards the hotel’s revolving doors. He seemed to know the place so well, it was uncanny. Suddenly, she remembered her breakfast with Kent. He was already worried about her and would be frantic if she stood him up.
“Pedro, I can’t go with you right now. I’m supposed to meet my colleague for breakfast.”
Pedro’s glittering expression instantly darkened. “Herculea, you are supposed to be with me. Our adventure has not even begun. Come, trust me.”
Hypnotized as she was by Pedro, she definitely did not trust him and found it disingenuous for him to make such a request of someone he had met a week ago.
“What’s the hurry? I just got to Brazil, and I don’t like to disappoint my friends.” Herculea spoke confidently and felt satisfied to have regained some of her normal composure, not to mention good sense.
Before Pedro could respond, a deafening roar of thunder tore across the sky. Herculea looked out the window, shocked to see a violent onslaught of rain pounding down. Chaos instantly erupted in the hotel.
“Tropical storm!” A young man ran by shouting. “Hurricane! Bring everything inside!” He urged in Portuguese.
Unfazed, Pedro looked condescendingly at the frantic young employee. “It’s just a little rain shower,” he scoffed.
“I don’t think so,” Herculea protested. “Look how dark the sky is.” She pointed outside to an atmosphere that was shaded in gloomy gray and raven.
As Herculea assessed the unexpected assault from Mother Nature, Kent strolled up next to her.
“There you are. Are you ready for breakfast? I believe the dining room is just down the hall,” Kent addressed Herculea.
Kent didn’t notice the volatile expression plastered on Pedro’s face, nor did it register in his head that Herculea knew the man. Pedro spoke before Herculea could.
“But what about our breakfast date, Herculea?” Pedro gave her a meaningful look.
Kent noticed Pedro for the first time, frowning at the sight of the man’s impeccable business suit, thick black waves, and rugged stubble.
“Who is this?” Kent addressed Herculea.
Uncomfortably, she introduced the two men. “Kent, this is Pedro. Pedro, this is my colleague, Kent. We work together at the university back home.”
The two men held a competitive stance and refrained from shaking hands.
Pedro remained smugly silent, but Kent was not satisfied with Herculea’s vague introduction. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch how you know Pedro?”
Herculea was again at a loss for words. Pedro had no title in her life, no significance at all, really. What would be the appropriate way to introduce him? For some reason, she felt guilty telling Kent that she and Pedro had been on a date. Even though he had no right to be, Kent was clearly jealous, and she did not want to hurt his feelings.
As Herculea mulled over an answer in her mind, Pedro stepped in and said possessively, “Herculea and I are in a new relationship. We met in San Francisco, and I have flown halfway around the world to be with her…and to present her with a necklace unworthy of her beauty.”
Herculea winced. The pain on Kent’s face was almost tangible, and for the first time, she wondered if he had real feelings for her.
Collecting himself quickly, Kent cleared his throat and said, stone-faced, “Enjoy your breakfast, Herculea.”
Without looking in her direction, he turned and walked away. She felt unreasonably devastated as she watched Kent’s broad back disappear into the distance. Herculea did not notice that the rain had begun to pour in sheets, nor did she see the swarm of workers buzzing around her carrying inside soaking picnic tables and patio-style furniture. Pedro gently encircled her wrist in his grip.
“Come, Herculea. Let’s go to my home for breakfast.”
“Your home?” She echoed.
“Sí, I told you I travel frequently. Brazil is one of many places I call home.”
Pedro produced a black umbrella from his jacket pocket, opening the door in front of them and shielding Herculea from the incessant rain. They ran in unison from the hotel to Pedro’s car. It was obviously expensive with a sunroof they would not be using today. Pedro repeated his gentlemanly ritual of escorting her into the passenger’s seat.
“Such a humid day. But now it feels cold from the rain. Would you like some heat?” He asked politely as Herculea nodded emphatically, shivering in her wet cotton dress.
The man was as much an enigma as ever, and Herculea wasn’t sure if she could ever probe the depths of his heart. The kind of arrogant hardness Pedro exuded came from severe heartbreak, Herculea knew too well herself. She would be exceedingly cautious in her interactions with him, as she knew instinctively that opening her heart would lead him to shatter it.
But no one could be more useful in guiding her to the Silver Goddess. She refused to get sidetracked from her goal of researching and writing a book that would transform her career. With an acclaimed book under her belt, Herculea would be hired by any university she desired. The possibilities were limitless, and Herculea was determined to succeed, even if it meant spending her time in Brazil under Pedro’s influence. Kent would understand; he was, after all, the consummate workaholic.
The ride went on for what seemed like hours, and it was obvious to Herculea that they had left the confines of the city. The panorama changed from high rise buildings and billboards to free roaming farm animals and flowering trees. Pedro said little, glancing over at Herculea occasionally with a sensual smirk. She coolly returned his gaze each time, nervous about what would transpire once they reached his home.
The storm had passed, and rays of afternoon sun were blazing by the time they arrived at Pedro’s house. Set on multiple acres of rural land, his house was impressive. Although the estate’s size was palatial, the design was rustic and reminiscent of a New England farmhouse.
Herculea exclaimed, “This is your house?!”
Pedro merely grinned. “Yes,” he said matter of factly. “Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, observing a cluster of birds sipping from a porcelain bath in the front yard.
Herculea was again struck by how little she knew about this man. She had no idea what he did for a living to be able to afford such a spacious residence. She hadn’t seen his home in San Francisco, but if it were anything like this, then he must be a millionaire.
“How often do you come here?” She queried once they were out of the car.
The drinking birds trilled a happy tune as they continued to frolic in the bath. A few cats appeared from the side yard and began chasing after the birds, who squawked and flew away hastily in a whirlwind of feathers.
“Not nearly as often as I would like. I do love to come here.” Pedro inhaled the fresh country air and said expressively, “Look at those animals. I’ve missed them.”
Pedro pointed lovingly to the cats, and Herculea’s eyes widened. Was this a tender side the arrogant seducer was displaying? She wasn’t sure if she should believe it.
“I love animals,” he continued. “Those cats live on the property. I feed them and give them milk. So they stay even when I’m away for months. They wait for me.”
Herculea’s disbelief mounted as she threw him a puzzled look. Suddenly, the cats ran over to Pedro, perhaps catching a whiff of his scent. The trio of
felines rubbed against his legs as he bent down to stroke each one. He clearly had a connection with the animals. Each of the cat’s fur bore a distinct pattern. One was a calico, another was a tuxedo cat, and the third was snowy white with crystal blue eyes.
“These cats really love you too,” Herculea observed. “I wish I could have a cat, but I travel too much. A tabby would be nice. Maybe an orange or silver tabby.”
She remarked offhandedly, flinching as she finished her thought. The moment she had spoken the word “silver” Pedro’s expression had transformed to an odd mixture of ominous and mournful.
Ignoring her comment, Pedro began striding ahead, muttering, “Let’s go eat. Wait for me on the patio.”
He led her unceremoniously to the backyard, up several flights of stairs that revealed a furnished patio with breathtaking views of the property. His backyard looked like a misty jungle. Lush trees populated the yard, some bearing ripe fruits and others offering fragrant blossoms. Exotic species of birds flitted around the trees, and a few wild monkeys clung to the branches. The patio itself was a replica of the vibrant yard, decorated with potted plants.
Pedro disappeared inside, and Herculea shut her eyes for a few sweet moments. This was the first morsel of peace she had tasted in a very long time. The natural setting, made even more refreshing by a lingering drizzle of rain, calmed her senses and made those hellish plane rides seem almost comical.
Pedro emerged from inside the house carrying a large tray and pitcher. The tray contained a tempting cornucopia of fruits: guava, watermelon, strawberries, tangerines, and a sprinkling of black cherries. The glass pitcher was filled with a transparent orange liquid and ice cubes.
“Mango juice,” he explained, filling a glass for her.
“Ooh, I’ve never had mango juice.”
She took a mighty gulp of the frosty citrus juice, savoring the soothing feel of it lacing her parched throat.
“Mmmm,” she murmured.
The juice was sugary, but with an oddly bitter aftertaste that Herculea could not identify. It almost tasted of rum or some other alcohol. But, no, he wouldn’t serve her an alcoholic drink in the middle of the day. This was not a champagne brunch; it was a light snack of fruit slices.
“I hope the fruit will be enough for now. I kept it frozen while I was away. Any perishable food would be disgusting by now.”
“I read that frozen fruit has even more nutrients than fresh fruit. The transportation process from farm to supermarket causes the fruit to lose nutrients,” Herculea remarked as Pedro raised his eyebrows.
“Do you always think of everything from an intellectual perspective?” He asked pointedly and with unhidden amusement.
She blushed. “No. I was just commenting.” She lowered her eyes to the plate in front of her. “The fruit looks delicious.”
Hungrily, she stabbed her fork into a banana, still cold from whatever Pedro had done to defrost it. One by one, the cats climbed the stairs to the patio. They sniffed around briefly and, not finding anything to their liking, disappeared into the yard.
“I promise to take you out to a three course Brazilian dinner later on.” Pedro spoke as he dipped a slice of tangerine into his sensual mouth.
Herculea tried not to fantasize as she watched him eat the fruit. She resisted a sudden urge to sit closer to him and feed him the fruit. Some people preferred oysters or chocolate as aphrodisiacs, but to Herculea, fruit was the most erotic of all foods. It came unadulterated from the earth, not tarnished by the hands of man. It was juicy and pulpy and light, the perfect appetizer to a much more satisfying carnal meal.
The look on Pedro’s face was blatantly inviting, and Herculea knew instinctively that he was trying to seduce her. Yet, he was also aroused, she realized, as she caught a glimpse of the smoldering depth his eyes had taken on. It would be a battle of wills if she were to resist this man indefinitely. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to resist him. It bothered her that women always worried about men conquering them and seizing the power. If it pleased her to go to bed with him, then she would, without consideration of archaic rules.
“A Brazilian dinner sounds wonderful,” Herculea enthused, as Pedro topped off her glass with mango juice.
“Good. I know just the place to take you.” He stood up and gestured towards the massive yard. “Would you like to explore?”
Herculea immediately caught the double meaning of his words. Rising from her seat, she allowed him to take her into the thick, wet jungle that lay ahead.
Chapter 6
Back at the hotel, Kent paced in his room. Herculea had been gone for hours. The memory of Pedro’s smugly handsome features made Kent’s blood pressure soar. Then, he felt foolish. Why hadn’t he confessed to Herculea long ago that he was in love with her?
Kent conjured the image of Herculea the first time they met. Her shiny black hair had been embroidered into a silky French braid that trailed down the middle of her back. She had been wearing a form-fitting beige business suit and high heels to boost her petite stature. Herculea had burst at the seams with enthusiasm and ambition. Kent had fallen in love with her that day. All these years he had restrained himself around Herculea, putting up a front of professionalism.
Kent couldn’t take it anymore. He was sure he would go insane if he stayed one more minute in his hotel room. He walked across the hall to Herculea’s room. Maybe she had returned and he didn’t even realize it. He knocked gently at the door, shocked when it budged inward. It was open!
“Herculea? Are you in here?” Kent called out to an empty room.
When no reply sounded, he walked cautiously inside. Nothing was in disarray. Everything seemed to be as she would have left it. Kent walked towards the unmade bed, startled to see Herculea’s cell phone on the nightstand. She had been in a hurry that morning. Kent found it unsettling that she was out with Pedro without her cell phone. If she didn’t return by that evening, Kent resolved to find her.
*****
Hand in hand, Pedro and Herculea walked deeper into the thicket of trees and plants. The vast acres of land that lay beyond the house were uncultivated. Herculea stumbled over a stray branch, and Pedro gripped her hand tightly. The air felt cool, even though the humidity was relentless.
“Where are we going?” Herculea asked a bit nervously.
They must have walked a mile by now through coarse and winding terrain. She hoped Pedro knew where they were going.
“Just exploring,” he answered in his typical evasive fashion.
Herculea glanced behind them. Everything looked the same. Without a compass, she would never be able to find her way out of this natural maze. She eased closer to Pedro’s body, as he squeezed her hand.
“Don’t be afraid,” he soothed. “I thought you liked adventures?” He added, smirking.
“I do. I just don’t like to get lost.”
He paused in midstep and boldly wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing the length of her body into his. “Sometimes it is good to get lost,” he said in a low voice that ended on a subtle growl.
He leaned down to capture her lips in his, sliding his mouth masterfully across hers and holding her even more tightly. In an instant she was lost. There was nothing she could do to stop the rollercoaster of sensations that ascended, swirled, and plummeted through her as he claimed her in his embrace. She did not allow herself to think, only to feel, to feel fully and rapturously the contact their bodies made.
She entwined her hands in his wavy hair, standing on tiptoes to offer her mouth completely. Pedro claimed her lips with a hunger she felt deep in the pit of her stomach as well. It was a hunger that had raged inside of her all through the many months it had been since a man had touched her. Now, against all common sense, she permitted herself to satiate that hunger with Pedro.
Gently, he eased her onto a bed of wet leaves. She shivered deliciously at the mixture of cool sensations from the earth and burning emotions radiating from Pedro’s mouth. She lay willingly on her back, in
stinctively wrapping her legs around Pedro’s lean waist, even though they were both still fully clothed. He reciprocated those instincts by positioning himself between her legs, which were bare in her sundress and covered in moist leaves. He was surprised to hear her moan in pleasure a moment later. This woman was starving for sensuality, he realized, as his arousal mounted.
“Lost,” he whispered, while trailing his full lips down her neck and yanking on her dress.
She helped him, pulling the dress down to her hips, revealing a lithe body and lace bra. Hastily, he grabbed his belt and undid the buckle. In a cloud of furious haste, his shirt and pants came off as well. Herculea surfaced from erotic oblivion long enough to take a thorough inventory of the man’s beautiful body. His chest was even broader and more finely muscled than it looked in clothes, and he had a virile covering of hair on his perfect bronze skin. His chest was like a comforting forest. She reached up her hands to weave in the thick mass of hair covering his rib cage and firm pectoral muscles.
Pedro returned his attention to her mouth, inserting his tongue as he peeled her bra off her delicate shoulders. Once her breasts were revealed, he bowed his head reverently to them, staring intently before darting his tongue out to taste one. He licked the bud back and forth as rhythmically as he had danced the tango with her. She arched her back beneath him, tossing her hair onto the bed of leaves and lightly digging her nails into his back as he made a feast of her flesh.
Her body felt wet from head to toe. She was not sure if the moisture was from pure arousal, the wet leaves, or the rain that had begun to fall again ever so lightly. She opened her eyes to see a sheath of sweat on Pedro’s torso and realized that the stickiness in her hair was sweat as well.
The ground felt fertile; the elements were alive and wild. She cried out exultantly when Pedro finally pressed his hardness demandingly against her womanhood. She could feel his complete arousal and commanding size, and she relaxed all her muscles, opening her body excitedly. He pushed into her with a single, skillful stroke, burying himself all the way inside the soft wetness and groaning with pleasure.
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