Hold Me by Lucianne Rivers

thought of her mom reminded her of her task for today. Finding Dad.
    Jane found ground coffee in the fridge. Discovering the coffeemaker proved easy, since it was one of few automated machines in the rustic kitchen. She rustled up a strong carafe of caffeine-rich brew. After finding the back door to the house through a tiny utility room, she walked outside, cup in hand.
    The sun shone through the green foliage and warmed her back. Birds chirped and other jungle animals screeched. Somewhere, a rooster crowed. She rounded the abode and the lake came into view in stunning glory.
    A girl could get used to living in the jungle.
    A short wooden dock led out to the bright, reflecting water and she wandered along it in bare feet. A blue boat bobbed at the end, paddle inside. Beyond, a scaly tail slithered by. She jerked backward, spilling coffee onto the damp planks.
    “Lake’s full of crocs.”
    Her heart skipped a beat. Cady had come up behind her. Afraid to turn, she waited until her pulse settled. “I’m glad I didn’t dive in for a swim.”
    “I do it all the time. It’s usually safe.”
    She turned, shaking her head.
    Cady wore a sexy, navy tee and tight jeans. He took her cup from her hands, gazing at her as he drank several gulps. His eyes read hers, brown and searching.
    “I need to use a phone,” she said, remembering she should check in with Allison back home, and Margo somewhere in the Virgin Islands. Was Margo having any luck following the investigator’s lead?
    Cady’s eyes narrowed and he shoved the coffee back into her grasp. That shuttered look dropped over his features. Had she said something wrong?
    “I need to call home,” she explained.
    “Right, the whole finding your father thing.”
    “Right.”
    “I need to buy groceries in town. I’ll come with you.”
    She bit her lip, hoping he could do more than that. “I was thinking. If you didn’t mind, I’m gonna need a translator.”
    He looked down briefly, as if thinking it over.
    “I have a photo of my father,” she said. “It’s twenty years old, but it might help.”
    “What makes you think he’s here?”
    “The investigator I hired found a four-year-old newspaper article about a Zach Caldwell from the U.S. who lived here. He pulled a girl out of a mudslide. More research turned up a rental agreement with his full name. The P.I. made some phone calls and, supposedly, a man matching my father’s description was seen here in town.”
    Cady stared at her mouth, and she was struck by the memory of what his lips felt like molded to hers.
    “You want more coffee?” he asked.
    Her cup was empty, her throat suddenly dry. “Sure.”
    Her back burned from his gaze as they returned indoors. She wondered why he had he become so withdrawn just then. He didn’t seem to want her calling home.
    Cady pulled two travel mugs from a drawer and offered them up. “Let’s take it to go.”
    …
    Jane and Cady showed Zach’s photo in several shops, ending up in a grocery store after discovering that Zach had rented an apartment on the premises. Jane asked Cady to tell the old man behind the counter about the will, and that she was Zach’s daughter who wanted to take him home to claim his inheritance and his family. She spotted a pair of comfortable shoes and brought them to the clerk, trying to follow their Spanish.
    “We thought he’d died in the military,” she added, pausing to let Cady translate.
    “He says Zach Caldwell left here three years ago,” Cady said after the clerk responded.
    “Where did he go?” she asked.
    Cady spoke in impressive Spanish while the clerk tallied the total. She bought the cheap running shoes, relieved to have a substitute for her high-heels.
    “Since Caldwell vacated the apartment upstairs, he’s heard no more about him.”
    Jane sagged in disappointment. Had she come this far only to have missed her dad?
    A dark-haired, brown-faced teenager in the line behind them identified himself as Carlos, and nodded at