“Actually, I gave you points for originality.”

“Oh? Good to know.” His fingertip skimmed over her hand once again, then he leaned back in his chair and gave her a speculative look. She barely refrained from stretching out her hand toward him in a silent invitation to touch her again. “About your profession…given that you’re friendly and have no difficulties talking to people, I’d guess you’re in sales or marketing.”

She laughed. “You went from underwear model to marketing?”

“All part of the scientific method. How about talk-show hostess?”

“You were closer with marketing. I’m in public relations.”

He nodded. “Yes, that makes sense.” His grin flashed. “So, what sort of relations do you have with the public?”

Not the sort I’m suddenly fantasizing about sharing with you. “Some good, some troublesome. Some clients are easy to deal with, others require more…finesse.”

“I’m sure you’re very good at it.”

“I am,” she said, without false modesty. Because she was good at her job, and she worked damned hard. “But lately…” Her voice trailed off and she frowned, wondering why she’d continued.

“But lately what?”

She shrugged, not prepared to confide feelings she barely understood herself to a man she scarcely knew, and also unwilling to say anything that might cast a pall on their easy camaraderie. Forcing a smile, she said lightly, “Lately I’ve needed a change. Which is why I’m here.”

He raised his bottle of water. “Amen to that.”

She tapped the rim of her drink against his and took a sip, watching him tip back his head to draw a long swallow, his strong throat working, his large hand dwarfing the bottle. Good grief, he even looked good when he drank water.

When he lowered his drink, their eyes met and held, and just as before, she felt the impact of his direct, compelling gaze like a heated wallop. One that made her breath catch, but not in any way she could blame on the eleven-thousand-foot altitude.

“Which hiking tour are you taking?” he asked.

“It’s a four-day, three-night tour with Inca Trail Explorations. It departs at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.” She shot him a half smile. “I’m not sure if I’m more excited or more nervous.”

“Do you know your guide’s name?”

“Not off the top of my head, but I can easily find out.” She pulled the leather pouch where she kept all her travel documents from her tote bag, then scanned her tour itinerary. “His name is Paolo Trucero.” She looked up from the papers. “I’m hoping Paolo’s done this a thousand times before and knows what he’s doing.”

“According to my travel agent, he does.” His lips curved into a sexy, lopsided smile. “I’m on that same tour.”

She feigned surprise and experienced a sharp, unexpected jolt of self-reproach. A guilt-induced heated flush swept up her back all the way to her scalp, and she wished she’d slipped her sunglasses back on to hide her eyes to prevent him from possibly seeing the truth-that she knew damn well they were on the same tour. She wanted to look away from his warmly admiring regard which only served to heap on more guilt.

What had happened to her desire for payback? Darned if she knew. All she did know was that revenge was not among the tingly feelings this man inspired.

Would he guess the truth? Part of her almost wished he would so as to put an end to her spying mission which she found less and less palatable with each passing minute. But no hint of suspicion showed in his gaze. No, instead he was looking at her as if he’d just been given an unexpected gift. Hello, another layer of guilt.

She offered him a smile. “Looks like we’ll be spending the next four days together.”

“I’m thinking that’s good news.”

“I’m thinking I agree.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

An image instantly materialized in her mind…of him and her, naked, sweaty, her legs wrapped around his waist, him thrusting deep inside her.

Heat pooled in her stomach and she had to swallow twice to find her voice, and even then only managed a whisper. “Starving.”

“A porter at my hotel recommended a place at the other end of the plaza that serves everything from local dishes to wood-fire pizzas. He assured me the food is good and embarrassingly cheap. Would you care to join me?”

Another erotic image flashed through her mind…of her joining him under the deluge of a hot, steamy shower. She blinked to clear the image. No wonder it was recommended that travelers give themselves at least a day to get used to the altitude. The thin air was clearly affecting her ability to think of anything other than sex. Or maybe it was just that for the first time in a long time, she felt…free. With no one to look after except herself. No family drama to deal with. There was, of course, the work issue-the reason she was here-but spending time with Brett Thornton was precisely what she was supposed to be doing. Right?

Or maybe it was that she found herself not only extremely attracted to this man, but curious about him as well. Her instincts-which she considered very reliable-were telling her that this man was trustworthy, and not the sort to make false claims. And that if he blew off an important party, maybe he’d had a good reason for doing so. Still, she needed to consider that her instincts might be somewhat derailed by the surge of hormones racing through her body.

But, regardless of the reason, there was only one answer to his question. “I’d love to join you.” She shot him a teasing grin. “But what if we share a meal together and discover we can’t stand each other? It might make things awkward on the trail.”

He rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. His face was no more than a foot from hers and her breath caught at the heat simmering in his gaze. “Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be problem. But I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

And again, there was only one answer. Looking into his eyes, she said, “I’m willing to risk it.”

4

A WAITER ESCORTED them to a quiet, secluded alcove in the back room of the nearly deserted restaurant, ensconcing them in a privacy that felt both warm and intimate. Once seated amongst the richly colored Andean textiles and exposed Inca stonework, Brett pretended to study the menu, but in reality he was studying the woman seated adjacent to him.

She’d removed her straw hat, revealing a sleek, glossy cap of chin-length auburn hair that his fingers itched to touch. He was debating the wisdom of giving in to the urge when she raised her gaze from the menu. “Have you decided what you want?” she asked.

You. In so many ways it’s making my head spin. “You mean from the menu?”

He really liked the heat that flared in her eyes. “Yes. For now.”

And he also really liked that she wasn’t shy. And that she clearly felt this same strong attraction as he. Setting down his menu, he said, “My Spanish consists mostly of silent gestures.” He demonstrated by nodding yes, shaking his head, then mimed asking for the check. “How’s yours?”

“Also pretty basic. I can say, ‘Where’s the hospital?’ ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ and ‘I need a policeman.’”

“Clearly our priorities are different because my two basic phrases contain the words cold beer and hot food.”

She laughed. “Between the two of us we have the necessities covered. You teach me your phrases and I’ll teach you mine.”

“I don’t know. Yours are all about asking for directions, which is something men don’t do. Do you know anything useful like-” he reached out and lightly entwined their fingers “-‘My dinner companion has the softest hands I’ve ever felt?’”

Her breath caught at the contact, then her lips twitched. “I’m afraid not. But I do know that pizza means, well, pizza, and that queso and tomate mean cheese and tomato, so I think I can order us a decent meal without too much trouble.”

“Excellent. I’ll leave the dinner order in your capable hands. Knowing my luck, I’d end up ordering something like sautéed earthworms by mistake.”

“I understand they serve those on the trail to Machu Picchu,” she said with a teasing grin.

“Thanks for the warning.”

She placed their order to the smiling waiter by pointing to the items on the menu she wanted. After he departed, Brett made an exaggerated eye roll and said, “Well, I could have done that.”

“Uh-huh. And we’d have ended up with sautéed earthworms.” She glanced down to where their fingers remained lightly joined, and he followed her gaze. Her hand looked remarkably small and pale and smooth next to his, and the sight of their entwined fingers looked stirringly intimate. And utterly arousing. His fingers bore dozens of pale scars from nicks and cuts and burns, mostly from childhood chemistry experiments. Luckily he’d gotten smarter and more coordinated as he’d grown. When he raised his gaze, he found her studying him.

“Care to share why your life’s out of balance?” she asked in a light tone. “If you tell me, I’ll tell you.”

He leaned forward and gave in to his craving to touch her hair. It was as silky-soft as it looked. “Okay,” he agreed, already deciding to offer up the very abridged version. “But you first.”

Kayla pondered for a few seconds, then decided to give him the full story, hoping that if she were open with him, he’d reciprocate. Reaching with her free hand into her bag, she pulled out her U.S. Weekly Review then opened it to the No Change, No Gain article and pointed to the first paragraph.

“‘Sex, love, career, family, friendships, marriage,’” she said, quoting the words. Then she looked at him. “Every one of those is, in some way, out of balance for me.”

He raised his brows. “Please tell me you’re not married.”

“I’m not, but my older sister, Meg, is getting married next month and I’m the maid of honor. Have you ever heard the term bridezilla?”

“No, but it doesn’t sound good-like a cross between a bride and Godzilla?”

“That’s exactly what it is, and it’s not good at all. This wedding has been in the planning stages for over a year, and to put it bluntly, it’s a nightmare that has turned my already type-A sister into a crazy person. She’s micromanaging every detail to death and driving everyone insane over the most ridiculous things-at least they seem ridiculous to me. I mean, does it really matter if the color of the cocktail napkins is eggshell instead of ecru?”

“Wouldn’t seem so, but then, I wouldn’t know eggshell from hot pink, so I’m not a good person to ask.”

“She calls me constantly to talk about the flowers or the photographer or the caterer or her future in-laws or how Robert-that’s her fiancé-isn’t helping her.” She shook her head. “They’re both lawyers and could argue the paint off the walls. Personally, I think Robert’s just tired of arguing, which is saying a lot.”

“So you’re saying I’m not missing much by being an only child.”

She laughed. “I love both my sisters, but there are definitely days when I wish they’d lose my phone number.”

He scooted his chair closer and lightly massaged her hand with both of his. “What’s your other sister like?”

“Hmmm…that feels nice.” Her eyes drifted closed. “Reeaally nice. What was the question?”

He chuckled and kept on massaging. “Your other sister.”

“Oh, right. Cindy is the youngest. Last week she pulled off an incredible trifecta. She graduated from college, announced she was moving to Los Angeles with her actor boyfriend, Jason, who just scored a minor part in the James Bond flick about to start shooting, and that she’s pregnant.”

“That is quite a triple play.”

“You have no idea. She’s been calling every day to ask for baby advice, as if I have any. Although, I have to admit I’m pretty excited about being an aunt. Not so with Meg. The news sent the bride-to-be into hysterics because now not only is she afraid that Cindy won’t fit into her Vera Wang bridesmaid dress, but she’s upset that everyone will be talking about the pregnancy and Jason’s movie role on her big day. She calls me hourly, alternately crying and complaining. I’ve taken to putting her on the speakerphone with the volume waaay down.”

“You might do better to just unplug the phone.”

“That’s next. Then there’s Mom. She can’t decide if she’s more distraught that Cindy is pregnant without, as she puts it, ‘benefit of clergy,’ or by the fact that she’s going to be a grandmother, which she claims she’s far too young to be. She calls several times a day to discuss either the wedding or the baby. When she isn’t talking about one of those things, she’s playing matchmaker, trying to set me up with every single man she can find.” Kayla blew out a huff of laughter. “Between the three of them calling me constantly, it’s like I’m caught in a Bermuda triangle of telephone agony.”