along with me?"
She pouted her lips. "Maybe to show you my worse side, because that's what I've done."
"That goes for both of us." He released her. "We need to cool off. In the water."
For the next two hours they dived and played in the crystalline waters. He helped her with the mask and snorkel, and they watched schools of yellow fish with black stripes and iridescent blue fish dance among the varied shapes of underwater lava rocks and coral. Later they drank more beer and relaxed on the beach.
"What's the Texas appeal, Jake? Why have you stayed there?"
He folded his arms under his unruly hair. "Oh God, it's big and roomy, gives you the feeling that the sky's the limit."
Alyse closed her eyes. "Houston's the home base of my favorite fictional character. Sometimes the story takes place on a cattle ranch or a seaside resort or a Mexican village or a big metropolitan city. Which one is the real Texas?"
"All of it. Texas has just about everything."
"So does California."
"But Mexico is different. Traditional in many ways. Exotic. Wild. Beautiful. A place to play and forget everything."
"Do you have a lot to forget, Jake?"
"Oh yeah."
"What?"
He was quiet a long minute. "Not now. Maybe some other time."
"You have one thing on your mind."
"Yep. With you or without."
"Don't you want to know my rules to this game you're playing?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
"It's my boat. That makes it matter. I want your assurance to get us there with the boat in good shape. And I want… " She paused and almost said, You, Jake Bronson! I want you in my bunk. But she didn't.
He pretended to ignore her so-called rules. "How about those fish tacos I promised you? The sunset is beautiful on Pichilinque Bay. We can both relax."
"I want… to meet your aunt."
He jerked his head upright. "You don't trust me?"
"No."
"I don't know if that's possible."
She shrugged and climbed aboard the small motorboat, pretending not to care about his answer. They rode in near silence back along the coast, past pelican and seal islands until they reached the public beach and ferry crossing that marked Pichilinque.
The scene was romantic and exotic with the sun setting behind them, spreading gold, red, and purple arms across the sky. Their table was close to the water's edge, on the sandy beach. Tiny waves curled over the sand near their bare feet. Alyse touched his hand. "Why are you doing all this, Jake?"
"Doing what? I promised you the best shrimp tacos in La Paz. Aren't they good?"
She took a bite of the shrimp rolled in a soft corn tortilla and spiced with salsa fresca. "Delicious. Best I've ever had. But what are you trying to prove to me?"
He shrugged and turned his palm up to mate sensually with hers. "That I'm not perfect, but not such a bad guy either. I have a problem, and I need help. Your help, Alyse."
She looked at him curiously. "No one has ever said that to me before. No one has ever needed me, Jake. It's… it's an interesting feeling."
She was reminded of the Bristol Bordeaux adventure set in Galveston: The ruggedly handsome man leaned across her desk. 'They've taken my sister hostage. You're the only one who can help me, Ms. Bordeaux. Penetrate the slave ring and bring her back. Please help me. I'll pay you well, I need you...'
'Then maybe I can help you. . .'
Alyse smiled at the handsome, rugged man across the table who needed her help. If she were the only one who could help him, wouldn't she try? Oh, it was romantic . . . and exciting . . . and compelling. Just like the life of Bristol Bordeaux. "Maybe it's possible that we can help each other. . ."
"Then can we say we've struck a deal? We'll leave together on the Skye Command tomorrow." Jake's hand tightened around hers.
Alyse looked dubiously at their hands, pressed together and fingers laced. Her blue eyes grew large with apprehension. What would Bristol Bordeaux do in this situation? How would she know if this stranger was telling the truth? If only . . .
Alyse
She pouted her lips. "Maybe to show you my worse side, because that's what I've done."
"That goes for both of us." He released her. "We need to cool off. In the water."
For the next two hours they dived and played in the crystalline waters. He helped her with the mask and snorkel, and they watched schools of yellow fish with black stripes and iridescent blue fish dance among the varied shapes of underwater lava rocks and coral. Later they drank more beer and relaxed on the beach.
"What's the Texas appeal, Jake? Why have you stayed there?"
He folded his arms under his unruly hair. "Oh God, it's big and roomy, gives you the feeling that the sky's the limit."
Alyse closed her eyes. "Houston's the home base of my favorite fictional character. Sometimes the story takes place on a cattle ranch or a seaside resort or a Mexican village or a big metropolitan city. Which one is the real Texas?"
"All of it. Texas has just about everything."
"So does California."
"But Mexico is different. Traditional in many ways. Exotic. Wild. Beautiful. A place to play and forget everything."
"Do you have a lot to forget, Jake?"
"Oh yeah."
"What?"
He was quiet a long minute. "Not now. Maybe some other time."
"You have one thing on your mind."
"Yep. With you or without."
"Don't you want to know my rules to this game you're playing?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
"It's my boat. That makes it matter. I want your assurance to get us there with the boat in good shape. And I want… " She paused and almost said, You, Jake Bronson! I want you in my bunk. But she didn't.
He pretended to ignore her so-called rules. "How about those fish tacos I promised you? The sunset is beautiful on Pichilinque Bay. We can both relax."
"I want… to meet your aunt."
He jerked his head upright. "You don't trust me?"
"No."
"I don't know if that's possible."
She shrugged and climbed aboard the small motorboat, pretending not to care about his answer. They rode in near silence back along the coast, past pelican and seal islands until they reached the public beach and ferry crossing that marked Pichilinque.
The scene was romantic and exotic with the sun setting behind them, spreading gold, red, and purple arms across the sky. Their table was close to the water's edge, on the sandy beach. Tiny waves curled over the sand near their bare feet. Alyse touched his hand. "Why are you doing all this, Jake?"
"Doing what? I promised you the best shrimp tacos in La Paz. Aren't they good?"
She took a bite of the shrimp rolled in a soft corn tortilla and spiced with salsa fresca. "Delicious. Best I've ever had. But what are you trying to prove to me?"
He shrugged and turned his palm up to mate sensually with hers. "That I'm not perfect, but not such a bad guy either. I have a problem, and I need help. Your help, Alyse."
She looked at him curiously. "No one has ever said that to me before. No one has ever needed me, Jake. It's… it's an interesting feeling."
She was reminded of the Bristol Bordeaux adventure set in Galveston: The ruggedly handsome man leaned across her desk. 'They've taken my sister hostage. You're the only one who can help me, Ms. Bordeaux. Penetrate the slave ring and bring her back. Please help me. I'll pay you well, I need you...'
'Then maybe I can help you. . .'
Alyse smiled at the handsome, rugged man across the table who needed her help. If she were the only one who could help him, wouldn't she try? Oh, it was romantic . . . and exciting . . . and compelling. Just like the life of Bristol Bordeaux. "Maybe it's possible that we can help each other. . ."
"Then can we say we've struck a deal? We'll leave together on the Skye Command tomorrow." Jake's hand tightened around hers.
Alyse looked dubiously at their hands, pressed together and fingers laced. Her blue eyes grew large with apprehension. What would Bristol Bordeaux do in this situation? How would she know if this stranger was telling the truth? If only . . .
Alyse
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