He’d bet that Adele Stephens’s work was going a lot better than his. His jaw automatically tightened at the thought. Her subject was more in vogue than his. Research on endangered species attracted way more attention—and resources—than trying to prove the existence of a creature most people believed to be a myth. Plus, ever since he’d refused Adele’s come-ons, the woman had had it out for him. He wouldn’t put it past her to talk down his work with the administration to further her career.
He spent every summer doing this because it meant so much to his dad, and it had become equally important to Dean. In truth, for the sake of loggerhead turtles, he hoped that Adele’s project went well.
He leaned his crutches against the night table and sat on the bed. If Ember’s guest quarters were this luxurious, the main house probably resembled a palace. Hard to believe that the three-room suite was part of the stables.
Rough-hewn wood beams supported the vaulted ceilings, and the floors appeared to be cherry. The living area was appointed with a leather loveseat and chair and opened to a full kitchen with all stainless steel appliances. The bathroom was almost as big as his entire apartment back in Gainesville and was stocked with soft, thick towels. Running his hand over the silky bedsheets, he suspected they were more expensive than any he’d ever owned.
Who was she? She was obviously wealthy. Maybe an heiress or something. And there was something familiar about her. Curiosity niggled at him. All he knew was that she was from Miami. He turned on his laptop and ran a Google search on her first name, setting the results to ‘Images.’ The first picture that popped up was her.
Ember Guerra. A Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue cover. And fashion magazine shots, dozens of them. Even tabloid photos of her.
Holy cow! She was famous. A supermodel. Which made total sense since she was stunningly beautiful. And tall. She carried herself like royalty. But then, she was a star.
He couldn’t wait to read up on her, to know all about her, and find out why she was here on this mountain in the middle of Georgia. But he could barely keep his eyes open. It was a lot later than he usually stayed up. Plus he wasn’t used to taking pain medication.
If he shut his eyes for a few moments, he’d be able to stay awake long enough to research Ember. So he lay back on the thick pillows.
He found himself back in the woods, crouching behind a bushy tree. Bigfoot picked up one of the apples he’d left on the stump.
My God! Bigfoot was there, only ten yards away. His dad had been right all along, and here was proof.
Dean’s heart thundered in his chest as he reached for his phone so he could videotape the evidence. With trembling fingers, he turned on the camera app and was about to hit the start button when something suddenly blocked the view. Gasping, he looked up and found Adele Stephens standing between him and the discovery of a lifetime.
“Get out of the way,” he shouted at her.
Adele’s lips curled into a smirk. “There’s nothing here to see.”
Rather than argue with her, he moved around her and searched for the creature.
Gone.
Desperately, he scanned the area. Too late.
His whole body burned with anger. His gut clenched. Fisting his hands, he spun around toward Adele, but in her place was Ember.
“You have to leave now,” Ember said.
Shards of pain stabbed at his temples.
She started walking away, and he noticed she now wore a sheer nightgown, long and emerald green like her eyes. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, he sensed an unspoken invitation. Desire coiled through him. And he followed her to a clearing. In the back of his mind, he knew he was forgetting something, and that it was important. But all he could think about was how beautiful she was, how much he yearned to kiss her, to touch and taste her. He was helpless to resist.
In the distance, a horse brayed, tearing his attention away for only an instant. Ember had vanished in the mist.
An ache just below his right shin nudged him awake.
Only a dream. His chest deflated. And not only because he’d missed the opportunity to capture Bigfoot on camera. The fact that Adele Stephens had been the one to stymie his efforts made the sting even more poignant. To be perfectly honest—if only with himself—he was sorry that he’d awakened before his dream self had gotten to make love to Ember.
Wow, where had that come from? He’d only just met her. And she might have shot him with her bow and arrow if her horse hadn’t injured him first. Well, probably not. But developing an attraction for the woman who was going to kick him off of her property in the next few hours, despite the potential loss for the scientific community, was foolhardy at best.
God, his ankle hurt. The medicine must have worn off. He checked his cell for the time. 6:30 am. He’d been out more than five hours. But who wouldn’t fall into a deep sleep in such a cozy bed? All the events of the previous day flashed through his head.
Ember didn’t want him working on her property. He’d have to find a way to convince her, to make her understand how important his work was, what it could mean to the world of science.
He opened his laptop to check the footage from his remaining cameras, but the search he’d started last night was still on the screen. The video would wait. Learning about Ember piqued his curiosity even more.
Most of the links were to magazine spreads featuring Ember—either by herself or with other models. A few were tabloid stories.
Fifteen-Year-Old Cuban-American Model Lands Multi-Million-Dollar Contract with Cosmetics Giant.
Supermodel Ember Guerra Gets Cozy with Emmy-Winning Actor.
Tipsy Ember Guerra Spills Red Wine on $10,000 Gown.
Dean’s gut clenched as he read the story, which made Ember sound like an alcoholic. The photos that accompanied the article showed her in compromising positions with two different men, and always a wineglass in her hand. He clicked out of the story and continued perusing the search.
Man Arrested in Alleged Kidnapping of Fashion Model.
He opened the page and quickly skimmed the story. A crazed fan who’d managed to distract Ember’s bodyguard had pulled her into his van and sped off with her. The police had found the vehicle a few hours later. The article didn’t mention what the perpetrator had done to Ember, or her condition when she was rescued.
Nausea swirled in Dean’s belly. And guilt. He shouldn’t have given her such a hard time when he’d met her. She’d been through a terrible ordeal only a few years ago.
Checking the list of search links again, he found one that made him feel even worse.
Ember Guerra Enters Rehab Program After Public Meltdown.
The date was shortly after the kidnapping incident. Clearly, she’d been heading in the direction of that meltdown before the kidnapping. How traumatic that must have been.
He clicked on the photo of the man the police had arrested for the crime. Dean’s whole body tensed. How dare he do that to Ember? Despite the fact that it had happened several years ago, and the man was surely still incarcerated for his crime, Dean wanted to rip the guy’s face off.
The pain in his ankle refused to be ignored. Hobbling over to the sofa, he retrieved the pill bottle from his backpack and took one. Then he washed up and shaved, which was no easy feat thanks to his cast.
After he’d changed into clean clothes, he stilled at the sound of a woman singing. He eased the door open a few inches. Yes, that was Ember.
The words were Spanish, and he had no idea what they meant, but it was one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard. He could listen to her sing all day. Stepping out of the suite, he walked toward the lovely music, doing his best to be stealthy so as not to stop her from continuing. He spotted her in one of the stalls, brushing her horse’s side, lost in the melody.
She startled when she saw him. “Good morning. How’s the ankle feeling?”
Sore as it could be. “Pain meds help.”
She nodde
d. “I hope I didn’t wake you.” In well-worn leather boots, faded jeans and a blue button-down shirt tied at her midriff, somehow she looked like a million bucks.
He leaned against a wooden post. “You didn’t, but even if you had, that would be the best alarm clock ever.”
Her olive complexion grew pink as she averted her gaze and returned to her task. She wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup, yet she was lovely. Perfect. Her skin was flawless, her eyes bright. He could see why she’d been such a successful model, with those high cheekbones, strong jawline and a delicately pointed chin.
“What was that you were singing?” he asked.
“Guantanamera. It’s an old Cuban song.” Her long hair fell nearly to her waist and reflected the early morning light spilling in through the open stall doors.
An image of her in that sheer nightgown flashed through his head. His dream. Swallowing past the dryness in his throat, he straightened. “What does it mean?”
The corners of her lips lifted in a smile as she continued her task. “The girl from Guantanamo. It’s about a man who is in love with a girl, but she doesn’t want him.” She hummed softly. “My Spanish isn’t perfect. Something about a wounded stag who seeks refuge on the mountain.”
“Or in my case, a mare that wounds on the mountain.”
That earned him a chuckle. She brushed Lycia’s mane. “I’m sure she feels awful for what she did.”
Before he could think of a witty response, two white cats scurried past him. One sat on a hay bale while the other jumped up onto a railing then strolled along the narrow length of an overhead rafter with the finesse of a tightrope walker. “Do these little guys belong to you?”
Another smile. “Guilty. The acrobat is Artemis, and the more grounded one is Athena.”
“I sense a theme with the names. You must be a fan of Greek mythology. Is Lycia also a goddess?”
The horse looked at him as if she recognized her name, which he suspected she did.
Ember put down the brush then washed her hands in the utility sink outside the stall. “Not a goddess, a place. My mother’s ancestors were from that area, many generations back.”
Now that she’d mentioned it, he vaguely remembered Lycia from Homer’s Iliad, or maybe The Odessey. “But you’re Cuban, right?”
Narrowing her eyes at him, she dried her hands. “I’m hungry. Can I interest you in a home-cooked breakfast before you leave?”
She had a knack for not answering his questions, which only made him more curious about her. But he had to admit that he was starving. “I’d appreciate that, thanks.”
“Meet me on the back deck of my house in half an hour.” With that, she marched off.
“I guess I was voted off the island, Lycia.” Not that he’d expected Ember to invite him to languish in her fancy guest quarters.
Athena meowed at him from her spot on the hay bale.
“Don’t worry,” he told the cat. “You get to stay since you live here. Lucky!”
Artemis abandoned her perch and leaped over him then ran after her mistress. Athena followed.
Very lucky. The cats got to be around Ember all the time.
Hearing his phone buzz, he checked the display. His dad. He prayed everything was okay as he answered. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hello.” His father’s voice sounded even weaker than it had only a few days before. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to reach you there.”
“Are you doing okay?”
“Sure, fine.” His father coughed. “I saw on the news there was a flood down there.”
A flood? Did he think Dean was somewhere else? “I’m in Georgia, Dad. No flooding here.”
“Georgia? For what? I thought you said you were in Brazil.”
A headache started behind his eyes. “That was a few years ago.”
“Right, right. I knew that. I haven’t heard from you for a long time, son.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Why bother telling him that it hadn’t even been a week since their last conversation? That would only upset him.
“You get those pictures you were after?” his dad asked.
Maybe he’d remembered.
“Still working on that,” Dean said.
“Damn shame about the fire, hmm?”
“Yes, Dad. But I’m confident that there’s a Sasquatch here.”
“Yeah?” His voice sounded suddenly younger, hopeful.
“Yeah. The moment I get photos, you’ll be my first phone call.”
His father sighed. “You’re a good son.”
Dean nodded, unable to find his voice.
After they disconnected, Dean started over to Ember’s house. He had to talk her into letting him stay for a while. He couldn’t abandon his research area when he was so sure that Bigfoot was here. And in truth, he hated the idea of never getting to know his beautiful hostess any better.
Maybe he could convince her to give him a little more time. He had to try.
Ember poured coffee into two mugs of warmed milk then pushed one over to Dean, who raised an eyebrow at her. “Café con leche,” she explained. “I like mine with a lot of sugar.”
He took a sip and winced. “Strong stuff. But good.” Tipping his now clean-shaven chin toward the spread she’d laid out, he said, “This looks delicious.”
So did he. In the bright morning light, she realized that his eyes were the most amazing shade of turquoise. Why hadn’t she noticed them last night? The blonde nurse certainly had. Not that it mattered if a hundred pretty women had come onto him. She had no interest in him. All she wanted was to get her privacy back. But since Lycia had injured him, she had an obligation to make sure that he didn’t further endanger himself. Soon as she could, though, she’d send him on his merry way.
She helped herself to a tostada then passed him the basket and a platter of eggs and bacon. “Mama always made us a hearty breakfast.” She scooped up a few pieces of mango and papaya from the bowl.
“Sounds like you’ve got a great family. You’re very lucky.” A cloud passed quickly over his features. Perhaps his childhood hadn’t been so happy.
“We’re still close. What about you?”
He shifted in his seat. “My folks should have gotten a divorce long before they did.”
She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
He forked up a hefty bite of his eggs, saying nothing for several minutes. Finally, he took a sip of coffee and met her stare. “I’d like to continue my work here, my research. I understand why you’re hesitant—”
“You have no idea.” Tossing her napkin over her plate, she leaned back in the chair and took in the view, which always relaxed her. Only a little this time. “Why do you think Bigfoot lives in this area? There must be all sorts of other locationa you can look.”
Serving himself a few chunks of fruit, he frowned. “I didn’t choose this place at random. There have been several possible sightings around here, promising leads.” He pointed to his crutches. “My options are a lot more limited thanks to my new mobility issue.”
No, she refused to let him play the injury card. She’d taken care of him last night and had even put him up. What more did he expect? “You should find a new location. Maybe you can research that while you’re convalescing. What’s the difference if your work is a little delayed? It’s not as if the world is waiting with bated breath to find out if Bigfoot really exists.”
He looked at her with such hurt in his expression, as if she’d just killed his dog or something. “You don’t understand the significance of discovering a new species, do you?”
She resisted an eye roll. “I’ll bet you’re going to educate me about that, hmm?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the expression, knowledge is power.”
Nodding, she drank her coffee, savoring the strong, sweet taste.
He scooted his chair closer to the table. “It’s more than that, though. Knowledge is opportunity, but we can never pr
edict what that opportunity will be. All we can say for sure is that if we don’t know about a thing, then we have zero chance of learning anything from it.” His brow furrowed as he fished in his pocket then set his bottle of painkillers on the table between them. “Can you imagine if we didn’t have drugs to take away pain? Thousands of years ago someone discovered that the poppy plant produced a pod that when cut, leaked a white liquid. That liquid hardened into a resin from which they were able to produce opium. Someone else figured out that boiling the bark of a willow tree also made a painkiller—aspirin.”
Spoken like a teacher. She thought about his statement. “You can’t deny that opium has been a double-edged sword. Look at the casualties of addiction.”
He shrugged. “Granted, but you can’t deny that it’s also had hugely beneficial uses.”
“Sure. There’s a difference between plant and animal species, though. Animals feel pain, yet they’re used for research all the time.” Her friend Jordan had assured Ember that animals experience many of the same emotions that people do. But she could hardly tell Dean that one of her best friends communicated telepathically with cats, dogs, horses, rabbits and more.
“Animals provide us with so much medical knowledge,” he said. “Not that I condone hurting them in the name of science. I don’t. I believe in ethical research. It’s a tough call, though. We have cures and treatments for a huge number of diseases thanks to experimentation with mice, rats, and other species. Without it, we wouldn’t have penicillin or blood transfusions. Thanks to animal research, we can treat diabetes, and there are promising therapies in the works for Parkinson’s disease and breast cancer.”
He had a point. “But lots of corporations still use animals to test cosmetics, and for other nonessential research. That’s just wrong.”
Biting a bacon strip in half, he nodded. “I completely agree with you.”
Beauty and the Bigfoot Hunter Page 4