Page 5

Fuck, fuckity, fuck.

Rafa took a sip of his cafézinho at the sidewalk café across from the hotel the next morning while he scribbled in his notebook, debating how the hell he was going to get out of this mess. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. That wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go. Rafa had planned to wrap up his sting operation with the archaeological crew where no one would recognize him, then he’d waltz over to the hotel bar, buy him and Miri the “backpack consultant” a couple of caipirinhas. Laugh a little longer. Flirt a little more. And perhaps end up in one of their rooms for the night before saying goodbye forever.

Miri was not supposed to be working alongside him for the next who knew how many weeks. And she certainly wasn’t supposed to be assigned lead.

He couldn’t tear his mind from her lips. They were cute, delicate, and appeared to be impossibly soft. The kind of lips that would swell after a proper make-out session. Lips that looked in desperate need of a proper make-out session. But more than that, he couldn’t stop thinking about them because the words flowing out of those lips made him smile.

He’d been mesmerized as she talked about the expedition, even though he worried for a moment when she brought up os protetores. But he needed to know what she knew. Needed to know how far he had to push his interference.

And now Rafa would be personally responsible for her failure.

Fuck my life .

At least he hadn’t lied to her. Maybe he didn’t tell her the whole truth (though, what was a whole truth anyway, Jack Nicholson?), but skipping a few details here and there was fine. So long as she never found out the bits he omitted. He had planned to order caipirinhas. And, yes, he had used his accent to impress her.

But that was before everything changed.

She didn’t need to know the rest of his plan or his true intentions. Because it no longer mattered. He couldn’t sleep with Miri. Wouldn’t . He wouldn’t fuck her over on the job and in her bed.

Rafa hadn’t been looking for romance before, and he certainly wasn’t in need of it now that Miri was effectively off-limits.

He took another sip, when his phone buzzed beside him with an incoming call from his dad, he closed his notebook.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Did you make it to Manacapuru?”

His father launched right in, but he was a busy man. He didn’t have time for meaningless pleasantries, something Rafa never took personally. Jean-Luc Monfils was a man with a purpose: to do great things. Whether it was serving on a committee to raise money to save baby harp seals, teaching at a university abroad as an adjunct professor for a semester to open the minds of impressionable young adults to the dangers of deforestation, or sitting on the board of Global Geography to ensure the whole world knew about the Earth’s most precious biomes and fascinating civilizations, his father never ceased to amaze him. But the one thing he always had time for, no matter where he was in the world or what philanthropic endeavor was on his plate, was Rafa and his well-being.

Even if he didn’t have time to say the word hello .

“All in one piece,” Rafa responded.

“Good, good. And how are things with the expedition?”

“Fine. Though there have been a few changes of plans.”

“What do you mean, changes of plans? What happened at the team meeting last night?” his father asked worriedly.

“Well, I met the crew at the meeting. They put on a slideshow with information about the Moon City. Got drinks afterward with each of the new leads—”

“New leads? What do you mean, new leads?” his father asked, his voice kicked up another octave. “Socorro Mejía and Ford Matthews are supposed to be the leads.”

Confusion and another emotion Rafa couldn’t quite put his finger on vibrated through the phone.

“How did you know that?” Rafa asked, casting a curious glance at the phone. Or, better yet, how did everyone seem to know about the leads except Rafa? There sure were a lot of loose lips on this supposedly top-secret expedition.

“Your blabbermouth boss, of course. I’ve told you, Rafael, you can’t trust that man with a secret to save your life.”

Rafa rolled his eyes. Didn’t he know it. He still couldn’t believe his boss had called his dad to tattle about his resignation.

“Well, Dr. Matthews broke his arm,” Rafa explained, “so he and Dr. Mejía aren’t heading the expedition anymore. They put two other archaeologists in charge instead.”

“Who? Who did they put in charge?” his dad demanded.

Hmm…maybe it was anxiousness?

“Drs. Bradley Quinn and Miriam Jacobs.”

“Who the hell is Miriam Jacobs?” his dad asked.

The tenor in his dad’s voice threw Rafa off. Busy as he was, most of the time Jean-Luc was still an amiable old man who enjoyed reading the paper in the morning with a cup of tea at his favorite café while he chatted with other regulars. A cultured widower who everyone wanted to rub elbows with. A father who was always a voice of reason when Rafa needed to vent.

But there were two things his dad didn’t like: surprises and talking about Rafa’s mother. They brought out the worst in him—anger and sadness—and Rafa learned long ago to avoid those things if he could. Unfortunately, this expedition involved both.

“I’m sorry,” his dad quickly resumed. “This is unexpected, that’s all.”

“It’s okay,” Rafa said, knowing his dad didn’t mean to yell. “Dr. Jacobs is a colleague of Dr. Mejía’s.”

“Jacobs? Jacobs?” his dad mumbled to himself as if racking his brain. “From UC Berkeley?”

“Yeah, how did you—” Rafa started to ask, but caught himself—his dad knew everything and everyone.

“What’s the situation with this Dr. Jacobs?” his dad asked, not even bothering to entertain Rafa’s prior half inquiry.

But good question. Rafa had been wondering the same thing all last night. While Quinn had talked his ear off until almost midnight. While he’d lain awake in bed until well past two in the morning. While he’d slowly walked through the hotel before heading for coffee, not not hoping for a chance encounter with Miri in the hallway. While he’d…

A loud crash across the street at the hotel stole his attention. Two enormous ten-passenger vans were parked on the street, each with loads of gear being strapped to the top; or at least some of the gear had made it onto the roof. Several bags rested in the roadway, having toppled over during loading—and were now lying beside Miri’s feet.

Speak of the devil.

“I’m not…I’m not sure,” Rafa answered while his eyes remained on Miri, who was arguing back and forth with the driver. What was it with Miri and drivers?

“Hmm…I’ll need to check her background. What does she know about the Moon City?” his dad continued, oblivious to the commotion on Rafa’s end of the call.

“I don’t know. I don’t think much. Though there was a memo under my door this morning that was directed to the entire team saying to be packed up and ready to go at nine a.m.”

“Packed? Where are you going?” his father asked.

“Not sure.”

“Well, as long as you stay along the Amazon River, you should be okay. Just remember, keep them away from the Serra da Mocidade.”

His dad’s voice registered in Rafa’s ears, but he was too distracted watching Miri to answer. He couldn’t hear what Miri and the driver were saying, but based on the pointing and arms flailing about, it appeared she was being blamed for the bags falling over. With a final flourish of his hands, the driver turned and walked away. Her gaze shifted from the bags to the roof rack before Dr. Quinn walked over to assist.

No…wait…

What’s he doing?

Quinn shoved his own bag into Miri’s chest, then departed.

“What a dick,” Rafa unintentionally said out loud.

“Excuse me?”

Rafa snapped his attention back to the call. “Sorry, looks like we’re loading up. I have to go.”

“Send me updates…and find out what you can about Dr. Jacobs.”

“Will do,” he said.

He hung up without waiting for his dad’s goodbye as his eyes fixated on Miri. What is she doing? Miri strung a rope through the handle loops on the bags, then flung the rope over the top of the roof. She then backed up several feet and ran toward the van, hurling her body to reach the roof rack.

Her body slammed against the back of the van with a painful sounding kerchunk , causing Rafa to wince.

With the grace and precision of a giraffe walking on ice, she swung her legs every which way, trying to loop her ankle around the roof rack before struggling to pull herself up. Once on top of the van, she pulled the rope, heaving her entire body into it without success as the weight of the bags inevitably fell back to the ground.

Attempt number two wasn’t any more successful. She swatted her bangs out of her face— sure, Miri, that’s it…it’s the bangs getting in your way —and tried, and failed again, this time landing on her back atop the other bags on the roof.

Okay, he couldn’t sit there any longer and watch her struggle. He drained the contents of his mug and then made his way across the street. The tension in the rope tightened again as soft grunts came from atop the van and the bags lifted from the ground once more.

“I’ve got you. Don’t…let…go,” Miri grunted to herself, clearly unaware of Rafa’s presence below her.

He smiled at her utter adorkableness. She groaned again, clearly straining to pull the bags all the way up, when Rafa lent a hand and pushed the bags over the lip of the roof.

“What the—?” Miri said as she scrambled to the edge of the van to investigate the sudden ease with which she’d succeeded. One look at his face, however, and hers turned a bright shade of pink. “How long were you down there?”

“Only a few seconds. You seemed like you could use a hand,” he said.

“Well, here…help me tie this down.”

They circled the van, tossing the rope back and forth and looping it through the rack to secure the load.

“Why are you the one doing all this?” he asked.

“The driver got annoyed when I told him he’d smashed my chips, so he said he’d like to see if I could do a better job, and what was I supposed to do? Can’t decline a challenge.”

Rafa snickered. Of course. “And the chips?”

“Did you happen to see how many times I dropped the bags? I’m fairly certain they’re nothing but dust at this point. But it’s the principle that counts,” she said, pointing toward the sky with a cute and unintentionally sexy smile.

She finished securing the bags, then looked around, apparently searching for a way to dismount. “Here,” he said, reaching his hand up to hers. “I’ve got you.”

She ticked her head to the side with another smile. “Are you making fun of me?” She scooted toward the edge of the van and placed her hands on Rafa’s shoulders.

“Of course not,” he said, reaching his hands to her waist. “Just don’t…let…go.” His exaggerated grunts could barely hold in his laughter as he easily lifted her down from the van, her own snickering unable to be controlled. Her boots hit the ground as she buried her laughter in his chest, and Rafa looked down at her, her sapphire eyes staring back at him from behind her yellow-framed glasses. “Morning, Pringles.”

“Hi,” she said in an almost whisper as her cheeks turned a brighter shade of red.

“Hi.” It came out like the words of a person in a drunken stupor, but how else could Rafa explain the emotions overcoming him? Lost in the sapphire sea of her gaze, forgetting all the things he told himself about staying away from her.

The space between their bodies closed a fraction of an inch, sending a heat wave over his skin and pulling him out of his fog. He released his hold on her like she was a hot potato…which, come to think of it, wasn’t a bad assessment. But he hadn’t yet popped the top of this hot little can of Pringles. He still had a chance to stop before he did something he couldn’t take back.

“So, uh…what’s the plan today?” he asked, clearing his throat and taking a few steps back. “I got the memo under my door saying to be packed and ready by nine a.m.”

She smoothed her clothing out, then responded, “We’re heading into the rainforest to an eco-resort called Florestacasa. It will be our new base camp for a few weeks.”

Hmm… eco-resort and base camp didn’t exactly sound compatible. It also wasn’t on the itinerary as of last night. No, the schedule Anissa had handed out had them staying at the Hotel dos Sonhos for another three nights before their first trek into the rainforest.

How was he supposed to keep the team off the trail if he didn’t know where they’d be going?

“Funny, but I didn’t imagine I’d be glamping on this expedition,” he said.

“I use the term resort rather loosely. Imagine rustic cabins on stilts.”

“Cabins don’t exactly sound like we’re going to be roughing it.”

“We’re only moving the jumping-off point. Once we have a better sense of where we’re going, we’ll be in the rainforest.”

“Any particular reason we’re starting somewhere new?”

“I…I, uh, stayed up late doing research last night and think we need to start closer to Serra da Mocidade. And I found a resort that’s a few hours’ boat ride downriver on the Rio Branco from Caracaraí that’s got plenty of availability due to the impending rainy season, so they cut me a deal.”

Serra da Mocidade? Shit. How had she figured that out?

Rafa was going to be sick.

“I thought we were heading west? That’s what Quinn said last night,” he said.

Despite having tuned it out a few minutes earlier, his father’s warning had been loud and clear. Rafa hadn’t thought he had anything to worry about. Not with the original route Quinn had told him about over drinks.

“We are,” she said, as she started to walk back toward the hotel. “But my…research is pointing us more northwest toward Serra da Mocidade, so we’re changing course a bit.”

Rafa trailed behind her, trying to keep up. No, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Rafa needed to fix this, and he needed to fix it fast.

“I thought you didn’t know anything about the location of the city,” Rafa said.

“I told you. I studied up,” she called over her shoulder.

Something wasn’t adding up. If all one had to do was a couple hours of studying up , the Lost City of the Moon should have been the Not-So-Lost City of the Moon ages ago.

“And in the less than twelve hours since I last saw you, you suddenly became a Moon City expert and pinpointed a new starting place that dozens of explorers have searched for unsuccessfully for the last couple hundred years? You sure we shouldn’t stick with the original plan and head west along the Amazon first?”

Miri stopped short, causing Rafa to almost crash into her backside before she whirled around to face his chest. Her eyes went wide, taking in his pecs, before traveling up to his face. She pulled in a deep breath.

“You know, they put me in charge for a reason. Give me a little credit that I might know what I’m doing, would ya?”

Rafa stared back at her, stunned. Her voice was firm, albeit a little shaky. But her eyes were determined. Her finger, pointed. And her nipples, hard.

Whoa…that was hot.

She spun back around, and he watched her saunter with confidence inside to the hotel lobby. Under those nerdy glasses, subtle features, and klutziness stood a boss waiting to be unleashed. And it was fucking sexy as hell.

Fine. He’d let her lead them to Caracaraí and on this little boat ride through the jungle. He’d give her this win, but that didn’t mean he’d make the rest of the expedition easy.

Then he’d get serious about this sabotage business.