Beth Ciotta: Into the Wild

Ah, the complexities of a big brother–little sister relationship. He grinned. “Huh. I call it helpful.” He gestured to the bottle in her hand. “Drink more.”

“I don’t—”

“If you know what’s good for you, River, you’ll listen to me.”

Her pale skin flushed red. Frowning, she glanced at her trekking boots, then back at him. “Good thing you’re sitting down.”

“What?”

Glaring, she polished off the rest of the water, then handed him back the bottle. “Thank you for your concern and the information. Feel free to return to whatever it was you were doing.”

The words were polite. Her tone wasn’t. She was pissed. At him. Which chafed, because, dammit, he was doing her a huge favor. Or rather a huge favor for his sister.

Spenser rolled back his shoulders and kept his voice light. “Kylie would ream me out if I didn’t help you find your boyfriend.”

“Fiancé.”

“Ex-fiancé. From what I understand, David had second thoughts.” Okay. That was cold. But, dammit, her stubborn streak was grating.

“Most relationships are not without problems, Mr. McGraw—”

“Spenser.”

“It boils down to how far you’re willing to go to make things work,” she said, pushing unsteadily to her feet.

“And you’re willing to venture into the Amazon rain forest.”

She readjusted the strap of her pack. “I’m not as delicate as I look.”

He raised a brow. “Maybe not. But you’re in a foreign land. You don’t know the language or the customs. You sure as hell don’t know your way around.”

She reached down and gripped the handle of her rolling bag. “I’ll manage.”

He stood and adjusted his own backpack. “According to Kylie, David is on an extreme tour in Peru. You’re in Ecuador.”

“I know where I am.”

“Did you book a private puddle jumper?”

“I’m taking the bus.”

“Why? If you fly, you can be in Lima in two hours. The bus will take—”

“I’ve never been to South America. I want to soak up the scenery. Once again, sorry for the inconvenience. Have a safe trip back.” She turned and wheeled her bag toward a horde of people pulling their luggage from the loaded carousel.

Unbelievable. Either the altitude sickness was affecting her judgment or she was a loon. He didn’t know whether to shake her or scoop her up and take her to the nearest hospital. He caught up to her in three long strides. “You’re not going to see much, traveling through the night,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

“I’m not leaving until tomorrow.”

“Where are you staying tonight?”

“I booked a hotel near the city’s center. I’ll taxi over, get a good night’s sleep, acclimate to the altitude and set off first thing in the morning. I even know where the bus station is, and that I should take a tour bus as they’re the most comfortable and have the least problems with pickpockets.” She stopped at the carousel and turned to face him. “I did my research, Mr. McGraw. You don’t have to worry about me. Honestly.”

He almost believed her. Captivated by those earnest green eyes, he’d take her word on anything. But then she glanced away and he knew she was lying. He trusted she’d done her research. Kylie had described River as smart. A smart woman wouldn’t wing a trip like this. But he didn’t buy that scenic route business. Nor the part about not needing to worry about her. He realized suddenly that he’d misread River Kane. She wasn’t stubborn, she was desperate. Desperate to get rid of him.

Why?

Never one to resist a mystery and a challenge, Spenser reassessed the situation.

“There’s my duffel,” she said.

“I’ll get it.”

“I can—”

“I know.” He hefted the rolling duffel that doubled as a backpack off the carousel. “You can fend for yourself. Thing is, I have old-fashioned sensibilities. Sorry, angel.”

The starch went out of her spine as he set the duffel at her feet. For a second, he wondered if she was going to faint again, but then he realized that she simply was no longer angry.

“Don’t apologize for being courteous,” she said, looking contrite. “If anyone should apologize it’s me. You greeted me, revived me, stated concern for my safety…. I’ve been rude. I’m sorry. I’m not at my best right now. It’s just…” She nailed him again with that earnest gaze, only this time she didn’t look away. “I need to do this on my own.”

Desperate, vulnerable and determined. Those three qualities added up to disaster in Spenser’s book. Even if he hadn’t promised his sister, no way would he let this lamb circulate in the wild without a shepherd. He wouldn’t rest easy until he saw her in David’s arms, and even then he wouldn’t be happy. It was insane. But he was pretty sure he’d fallen in love with River Kane the moment she’d fallen into his arms.

He quirked his most persuasive smile. “Okay. Here’s the deal. I won’t force my company on you, but allow me to escort you to your hotel. It’s late. You’re exhausted. At the very least I could tell my sister that we spoke and I saw you safely into the city.”

She moistened her lips and again he thought about kissing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard for a freaking kiss.

“So, you’d just see me to my hotel and then you’d be on your way?”

“Mmm.”

She blew out a weary breath. “Okay.”

He raised a brow.

“I don’t want to upset Kylie any more than you do. Plus,” she smiled a little, “God forbid I insult your old-fashioned sensibilities.”

He grinned. “God forbid.”

“Would you watch my bags for a second? I need…” She pointed to the nearby ladies’ room. “All that water I drank…”

“I’ll be right here.” Spenser waited until she’d disappeared into the bathroom, then snagged his cell phone. He planned on hitting an Internet café after dropping River at her hotel, but it wouldn’t hurt to double his efforts. Besides, Gordo was a wiz on the computer. “Feel like playing cyberdetective?”

“As opposed to sitting in Cajamarca with my thumb up my ass?”

“That bored, huh?”

His friend grunted. “What am I researching?”

“Not what. Who. I want to know everything there is to know about River Kane.”

NO SLEEP FOR THE WEARY. No sleep, or at least restful sleep, for those fostering sinful thoughts.

She should have been obsessed with Henry’s unknown whereabouts. Or contemplating Professor Bovedine’s untimely death. Or analyzing her wrecked wedding. Instead, River had spent a fitful night fixated on Spenser McGraw.

Why did he have to be so nice? So confident and capable? So…gorgeous?

When she’d spotted him on that billboard last fall, she hadn’t given him a second thought. First of all, she only had eyes for David. Second, Spenser’s profession was a personal turnoff. Third, driving by at fifty-five miles per hour, all she’d seen was a cocky-looking pretty boy. A less contrived photo might have made a stronger impression. Whoever had made the decision to airbrush the character and ruggedness out of Spenser McGraw was an idiot. Why mess with perfection? It wasn’t just his handsome face. It was the entire package. As. Is.

The man exuded a raw sexuality that set her nerves on edge. He’d burned an indelible image into her brain. Teased her artistic nature. She ached to photograph him…naked.

He was a prime example of masculinity. A perfect gentlemen. In hindsight, even his bossiness was sexy, in a caveman me-protect-you kind of way. For some reason it was only easy to take exception in the heat of the moment. In hindsight…he’d been trying to help and she’d been overly sensitive.