by Lori Wilde
“I get it, Soph.”
The first monkey stuck the bracelet in his mouth. He bit down on it, took it out of his mouth, studied it and then bit on it again as if testing to see if it was real. A third monkey closed in on the first. This one wasn’t playing coy. He was clearly intent on getting his hands on the bracelet. He puffed up his chest and made quarrelsome noises that Gibb imagined was something along the lines of “hand it over, buddy,” in primate speak.
The thieving monkey bared his teeth at the third and held the bracelet behind his back like a kid playing keep away. The second monkey popped back up again behind the first monkey while he was fending off the third monkey.
The second monkey snagged the bracelet and took off, making a deriding noise.
The monkey who’d originally made off with the bracelet let out a shriek and the chase was on. Three monkeys swung and shook the trees, jabbering at each other like trash-talking professional boxers.
“Why do I feel like I’m on an episode of Punked?” Gibb mumbled.
Sophia elbowed him in the ribs. “Keep moving. If they get away we have no chance of getting that bracelet back.”
Not knowing what else to do, he followed her once more. “You are clearly an optimist, Sophia Cruz.”
“I can’t believe you are such a pessimist,” she tossed over her shoulder as she plunged deeper into the jungle. “As successful as you are, I thought you would have learned by now that you have to see past external appearances in order to achieve goals. Just because all seems lost doesn’t mean that’s the case.”
“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“When my father gave me El Diablo everyone laughed at me. No one except my father thought I could make a go of a bush charter service.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“More determined than ever. I am very headstrong when I set my mind to something. Besides, I had Poppy on my side. All it takes is one person to believe in you.”
The way that James had believed in him. His adopted father might not have been demonstrative or ever told Gibb that he loved him, but he’d set the bar high and held Gibb to that standard.
“It wasn’t easy,” she went on. “El Diablo was not in the best shape. The plane had been grounded for over a year before my father finally came to terms with the fact he was never going to fly again.”
“That couldn’t have been easy for either one of you.”
“I remember the day Poppy came to me and said, ‘Mi, hija, I have been a vain man, unable to admit when my race is run, but it is not right for a beautiful bird like El Diablo to stay grounded simply because I am. It is his destiny to fly and you are the one I want to fly him.’ Then he gave me the keys and hugged me and we both started crying.”
“I can’t get over the amount of courage it took for you to succeed in spite of the naysayers.”
“‘Daydreamer,’ they all called me. ‘Just like your mother.’ But they did not know that daydreaming is how you see the big picture. I looked past the obstacles, fixed my gaze on my goal and went after what I wanted.” She cocked her head and grinned. “That, plus I’ve read Jonathan Livingston Seagull like nine hundred times.”
“You have an amazing spirit, Sophia Cruz.” He heard the admiration in his voice, acknowledged he did admire her deeply.
“So take a page from my notebook and believe that we can get that bracelet back.”
“There’s optimism and then there’s pipe dreaming.”
“But how do you know it’s only a pipe dream until you try?”
“I’m optimistic when things are within my control,” he said. “When things are out of my hands...then that changes the playing field.”
“You can never tell when the tide will turn.”
Gibb slogged through the dense underbrush. His feet kept slipping on the slick lichen and the silk boxers were swishing against his thighs, causing a friction rub. “I could do with a turning tide right about now.”
Sophia disappeared from his view again. Damn, he better pick up the pace if he didn’t want to get left behind in the jungle. He wished he had his phone to use the GPS. He shoved aside a banana leaf and she wasn’t there. It would be so easy to get lost in here. One big green frond looked pretty much like another.
“Sophia? You there?”
No reply.
“Soph?”
Well, he’d be lying if he said his pulse hadn’t kicked into overdrive. What if something had happened to her? Disturbing images of a jaguar snatching her up in its jaws raced through his head, but when Sophia reached out a hand from the overgrowth, slapped her palm over his mouth and pulled him up beside her, what he felt was—
Utterly aroused.
Her soft breasts were pressed against his back, her palm tasted both sweet and salty against his lips and her elbow was crooked around his neck. Her sexy scent invaded his nostrils, fanned the flames burning inside him.
“Don’t say a word,” she whispered in his ear, her voice low and her breath warm and ticklish against his skin.
Silk boxer shorts didn’t disguise a thing. Gibb closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and fought a losing battle against nature. The only saving grace? She was behind him.
“They’re close to the ground.” She removed her hand from his mouth.
Who? What? Huh? What was she talking about?
Chattering and rustling came from the nearby trees.
Oh, yes, the monkeys. Gibb opened his eyes.
Just inches above their heads sat the three monkeys playing tug-of-war with the bracelet.
“Don’t move,” she murmured. “They’re so busy fighting that they haven’t noticed we’re here.”
They stood like that, not moving, Sophia’s lush body pressed to him. At this point, he was so worked up that he didn’t give a damn about the bracelet. Which, considering he’d worn it every day for the past ten years, was saying something.
The spider monkeys swatted at each other, slapped and bickered.
“Monkeys are interesting,” he observed, determined to get a handle on his desire by grabbing hold of anything that could shift his attention.
“They are,” Sophia concurred.
The monkey who currently had the bracelet jerked his head up, spied them, let out a screech and took off through the trees, the other two hot on his trail.
“Come on,” Sophia said. “Let’s go.”
Gibb groaned. “How long are we going to do this?”
“Until we get that bracelet back.” The grit in her voice spoke of the kind of determination it took to be a venture capitalist.
He smiled. “Let’s get it, then.”
They were so deep into the forest now that no sunlight filtered through. Everything was shaded and shadowed and the air was distinctly cooler. From far behind them came the faint roar of the waterfall. They’d been out here for hours. Even if by some miracle they managed to get their hands on the bracelet now there was no way Sophia could repair the plane in time to fly out of here before sunset. Another day. They’d lost another whole day, but sometimes admitting defeat was the best plan of action.
He was just about to say this, when the miracle happened.
The monkey dropped the bracelet—plunk—right there at Sophia’s feet. She snatched it up with a triumphant hand. “Got it.”
The monkey screamed and started jumping up and down on the branch. His cohorts joined in.
“You snooze, you lose,” Sophia told the monkeys and slipped the bracelet into the front pocket of her shorts.
One monkey snatched a passion fruit from a tree and chucked it at them.
“Hey!”
The second monkey joined in, then the third.
It was a monkey melee as they pelted Gibb and Sophia with passion fruit.
“Ouch!” Sophia raised an arm to protect her face. “Vicious little freaks.”
“C’mon.” Gibb grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Laughing, they ran through
the trees, sticky with passion-fruit juice. Once they were out of range of the ill-tempered simians, they stopped running and paused to catch their breath.
“Boy, are monkeys sore losers,” she muttered.
He met her gaze and they started laughing all over again.
“You’ve got stuff on your ear,” he said, leaning in to flick away the glob of fruit seeds with his thumb.
She stared deeply into his eyes and he had the sensation that he was falling into her welcoming arms.
“What now?” he murmured.
“I don’t know about you, but I need to rinse off. Let’s see if we can retrace our steps and find the waterfall.”
Gibb glanced around them. “How can you retrace your steps in the jungle? I mean, plunk me down in Manhattan or Miami or Paris and I’m your guy. But this place?” He shook his head. “Your bailiwick.”
“We’ll try to follow the sound of the water. If worse comes to worse, we’ll eventually find the ocean. This is an island, after all.”
“Lead the way.”
It was odd, being the follower for once. He was normally a hard-charging dynamo, rampaging from one project to another. But he wasn’t too proud to admit when he was out of his league.
They tramped through the jungle for what seemed like hours but was probably no more than thirty minutes. He was more than ready to get back to the beach and into some clothes.
The vegetation started to thin and the sound of the waterfall was growing louder when Sophia stopped so abruptly, Gibb almost plowed into the back of her.
“Look,” she said breathlessly. “Oh, Gibb, just look!”
He peered over her shoulder to see what she was pointing at, but he was too distracted by her scent to pay much attention. Her breathing was coming in quick little inhales and exhales of air, her sensual lips were parted, her gaze transfixed, the blue vein at the hollow of her throat pulsed rapidly.
She was excited.
And her excitement excited him. Everything about her turned him on.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Ghost orchids,” she whispered.
“Huh?” Finally, he wrenched his gaze from her and looked to see what she was talking about. Dazzling white flowers hung suspended from a thin network of vines wrapped around the base of a number of bald cypress trees.
“One of the rarest orchids in the world,” she said. “Do you know how special this sighting is?”
“Pretty unique?”
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime find.” Legs shaking, she edged forward. “The ghost orchid.”
Gibb examined the flowers with new respect. Anything that had the power to reduce tough little Sophia to trembling deserved his reverence.
The luminous white flowers had no leaves and hardly any stem. In fact, they seemed to be suspended in midair. He’d never seen flowers shaped quite like this. They resembled albino frogs with long legs extended.
“Magic,” Sophia murmured, running her fingertips over the slender petal. “Pure magic.”
As the twilight deepened, the flowers took on an ethereal glow. From the shadows descended a flurry of giant moths almost as big as hummingbirds. They fluttered about, from flower to flower, hungrily drinking sweet nectar.
“I can’t believe we are lucky enough to be here to witness this! Amazing. Sharing this moment with you is something I will remember for the rest of my life.”
She was going to remember him for the rest of her life? Exaltation swelled Gibb’s chest, made him catch his breath. Impulsively, he reached for her hand, squeezed it.
For the longest time, they stood there, holding hands and watching the flying ballet. Breathing in the calliope of fragrance—an effervescent aroma, fresh and clean with undertones of grapefruit, moss, vanilla and the barest hint of star anise. The hot, steamy jungle night enfolded them. Insects chirped. Unseen creatures rustled through the foliage. The queenly orchids glowed, beguiling beacons in the sultry darkness.
Suddenly, Sophia giggled.
“Wanna share?”
“The nickname of the sphinx moth.” She kept giggling.
“What is it?”
“The flying tongue.”
“Oh, ho?” He grinned at her.
“Only the sphinx moth can pollinate the ghost orchid. They have six-inch tongues.”
“Only six inches?”
She giggled again. “Trust a man to make that comment. The sphinx moth follows the scent of the ghost orchid like bees involved in a pollen orgy.”
“That’s erotic imagery.” He was already aroused.
“The ghost orchid is erotic,” she purred.
He lowered his lashes, studied her through the fringe.
Sophia spun in a half circle. Like a sprite among the sexy jungle plants, arms extended wide, she lifted her face to stare up at the thick canopy of trees and murmured again, “Magic.”
Gibb could not take his eyes off her. Yes, yes it was. Magic unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He had to agree. The scent was as intoxicating as the finest wine. It swelled and surged on the night breeze like symphony music, a heady rush of exuberant notes.
Sophia had stopped spinning and was staring at him now with heavy-lidded eyes. Gibb caught his breath, knew she felt it, too—this headlong craving to be joined.
He gave her the most sensuous look he could muster and the one she sent him in return smoldered with sexual intensity. He aimed a notorious smile at her.
Her answering grin was just as deadly, reaching straight through to his heart.
What a woman—sexy, beautiful, compelling! He loved the way she loved life. He thought he’d known how to enjoy what he had. He drove fast cars, dined in four-star restaurants, traveled to places around the globe, but now he knew that he’d experienced it all wrong. Money had buffered him from true, honest living. And he’d missed so much—exploring new places, finding rare orchids in the wilderness, and the simple things like catching fish and showering under a waterfall. He would have experienced none of this without her.
Admittedly he could not think of another person on earth he’d rather share these experiences with.
When he looked at her he saw all the things he had not realized he needed. A woman who liked him for who he really was, not the wallet or the image or what prestige they thought they could get from being with him. He wanted to keep Sophia near his heart night and day. But of course, even if he could do that, he would not. Sophia was like a butterfly. She had to be free to shine.
How she’d lit up his world when he’d never even known he was in the dark.
And that expression on her face. It was a come-to-me look if he’d ever seen one.
“Sophia,” he said. “I want you so badly I can’t breathe.”
“I want you, too,” she murmured.
“I don’t want you to regret this. Are you sure you’re just not intoxicated with the joy of finding the ghost orchid?”
“I am intoxicated. With you.”
“But see, that’s the thing. Intoxication wears off and you wake up the next morning hung over and full of apology.”
Her eyes met his. “I won’t regret this. In fact, if we don’t make love, that I will regret.”
“How can you know for sure?”
“Because passion like this only comes along once in a lifetime. I’ve been fighting the attraction tooth and nail since you climbed into my plane.”
“I know,” he said huskily, “so have I.”
“But being here.” She held her arms wide again. “Among these rare and beautiful flowers, you realize you can’t pass up once-in-a-lifetime opportunities when fate presents you with them. I want to grasp the brass ring, Gibb.”
“You’re absolutely certain?” he rasped.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything ever.”
Gibb couldn’t keep his hands off her any longer. He forgot all the reasons why this was not smart and he simply acted. He moved toward her.
Eyes sparkled impishly, and her smile was sm
ug. She stepped toward him, too.
Oh, she knew full well what she did to him.
She toed off her sneakers.
He kicked out of his loafers.
She grabbed hold of the hem of her skimpy little crop top and wrestled it off over her head.
He stopped breathing.
When she dropped her shirt to the ground, giving him a stunning view of her gorgeous breasts filling a pretty pink bra he’d guessed was under there, his heart leaped.
He gulped.
“Are you planning to stand there and stare at me all evening or are you going to unhook my bra?” she whispered in a sleek voice as lovely as the ghost orchids surrounding them. She touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip and gave him a look that said, Mister, I’m gonna turn you inside out.
Part of Gibb wanted to fall to his knees and worship at her beautiful feet, but the alpha male in him rejected the idea and pulled her into his arms.
Thoroughly, ravenously, he kissed her and she kissed him back with the same starving wildness. It had never been like this for him.
Ever.
He wondered if it was special for her, too, or if it was just sex.
She made a low noise and arched, exposing her neck to him. He planted his lips to the sweet spot, while his hands slipped around her to find the clasp of the bra.
“Wait,” she said suddenly, pushing him back. “Do you have a condom?”
“In my boxer shorts?”
She gave a high cry of frustration, fisted her hand and pounded lightly on his chest. “In my fantasies, I didn’t even think about condoms.”
“You’ve been having fantasies about me?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past two weeks while I stared at you? Guessing your balance sheet?”
Maybe women before her had, but he was so pleased to hear that she’d been fantasizing about him that he almost panicked because they had no condoms. But then he said, “Sweetheart, there are all kinds of ways we can pleasure each other.”
Her smile went sly and she brought up an index finger to stroke his cheek. “Back up.”
His mind was so addled it wasn’t sure what she was asking of him. “What?”
“Back up against the tree.”
He took a step backward, felt the bald cypress at his back, and when he turned his head, he found himself staring at a ghost orchid. “Now what?”