Into the Wild (4 page)

Regardless of Gordo's Twitter campaign, Spenser had a bad feeling about the future of their show, similar to the feeling he was starting to get about River. Being sexually attracted
and
protective of a woman who was intent on winning back her fiancé was definitely bad.

“How do you know my name?” she asked, still gazing up at him in confusion.

“My sister told me.”

River's Kewpie doll mouth curved into a dazed smile
and suddenly all Spenser could think about was kissing. Oh, hell.

“Oh, good,” she said, moistening those plump lips. “You speak English.” But then she frowned. “Your sister? Wait. You can't be… Please. Tell me you are
not
Spenser McGraw. You are!” she blasted before he could answer. “The billboard,” she rasped.

She'd gone from pliant to rigid in his arms. Spenser was beginning to tense himself.

“I knew I'd seen you before. That stupid billboard on Route Thirty-one. The one Eden posted last year right before the Apple Festival, featuring the booked talent and highlighting a promo shot of you. As if you'd really show up,” she muttered under her breath.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? “I never promised—”

“No wonder I didn't recognize you right off,” she rushed on in a brittle voice. “That photo was airbrushed.”

Stunned by the unprovoked insult, Spenser merely raised a brow and stared. The studio had been digitally manipulating his publicity shots for over a year now, erasing crow's feet and smile brackets, whitening his teeth, enlarging his already muscled biceps. He wasn't happy about it, but figured it went with the territory. Nature of the beast, he'd told himself. The entertainment industry obsessed on sex and youth. He got that and usually he took it in stride. However, he was still smarting from Necktie Nate's “over-the-hill” reference. And now this woman, this impossibly attractive,
young
woman, just implied he was a disappointment in the flesh. Well, hell.

Visibly mortified by his silent regard, River bolted upright and squirmed off his lap onto the adjacent seat. “I just meant…” Cheeks flushed, she looked away. “That photo didn't do you justice.”

His lip twitched. “Apology accepted.”

“You're not supposed to be here,” she said with a weary sigh. “You're supposed to be in Peru.”

“So are you.”

“What? Oh, right. How did you know I was here?”

“I'm resourceful.”

“I told Kylie I didn't want to impose.”

“You're not.” Although the sooner they got out of Ecuador, the happier he'd be.

“I'm sorry you came all this way, Mr. McGraw—”

“Spenser.”

“—but, I don't need you.”

A lie on multiple levels, but he admired her independence. “You sure as hell need someone, angel. You're ill.”

“No, I'm not.”

“You fainted.”

“I'm exhausted. I haven't slept in thirty-eight…” she squinted at her watch “…thirty-nine hours. I haven't eaten much either. Then there's the jet lag.”

“You're massaging your chest.”

“I'm short of breath. Stress, I guess.”

He got it then. “It's the altitude.”

“But we're not in the mountains.”

“Ecuador is a high-altitude country. You went from below one thousand feet to above nine thousand feet in less than a day. Some people bear it better than others.”

“I can bear it,” she said, looking annoyed. “I'll get used to it. Right?”

Why the hell was she mad? “Eventually.” He snagged a bottle of water from the side pouch of his backpack. “Drink this. You need to hydrate.”

She used the end of her sleeve to wipe down the nozzle. “Kylie was right about you,” she said after draining a quarter of the bottle. “You're bossy.”

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.”

N
O 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.

She'd never met anyone like him. Or at least she'd never been affected by a man like him. He was dangerous. She didn't go for dangerous. She went for safe. Stable. Dependable. Men like David…before he'd flipped out.

Still, she couldn't remember ever looking at David and aching for him as she ached for Spenser. As much as she tried to rationalize the visceral encounter, she couldn't dispel it.

Feeling weirdly unfaithful, she'd finally dozed off after recalling a dozen special memories involving David. Their first date. The first time they'd kissed. The first time they'd made love.

Yet, she'd dreamed of Spenser.

After waking and showering, her mind was still crowded by thoughts of the six-foot hunk of walking charisma.

That wouldn't do.

She was in love with David. Yes, he'd crushed her when he'd jilted her, but he hadn't obliterated her tender feelings. They'd dated for three years and had been engaged for two. Two weeks ago, she'd almost been Mrs. Snodgrass. She didn't even mind taking his god-awful last name.
That's
how much she loved him. She was
certain—when he worked through this life crisis or whatever it was that caused him to choose an old college buddy and an adrenaline-charged jungle expedition over her and their romantic honeymoon cruise—he'd realize his mistake. They were good together. They belonged together. As soon as she found Henry and sorted through this treasure mess, she'd find David and sort through their mess. This trip was about closure and new beginnings.

As for Spenser…well, it wasn't like she was ever going to see him again.

Two hours, a banana muffin and three cups of coffee later, River ventured out of the hotel and hailed a taxi for the Terminal Terrestre. She attributed her rapid breathing to the altitude and not an impending panic attack. Even though she felt like an alien in this bustling foreign city, she wasn't lost. She had her cell phone, her GPS unit, paper maps and, most importantly, a plan.

Next stop Baños.

On the trip south, she'd either study Henry's journal or catch the shut-eye that had eluded her last night. She would
not
think about Spenser McGraw.

 

“W
HY WOULD SHE
go to Baños when her boyfriend's in Peru?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Gordo. I called Kylie hoping for a clue. She didn't have one, but said she'd contact River's assistant. I'm still waiting for the callback.” Spenser popped a Tylenol and downed it with a swallow of Inca Kola, his South American soft drink of choice.
His sister's huge favor had turned into a massive pain. He still couldn't believe his shit luck.

“Are you absolutely positive the bus she got on is bound for Baños?”

“Unfortunately.” He'd been waiting outside the hotel in his rented jeep when River had exited right on schedule. Last night, in her attempt to assure him she was prepared and capable, she'd mentioned she'd booked a nine a.m. bus out of town. She didn't mention her destination. He didn't figure Peru. But he didn't figure Baños. Of all the damned towns.

“You're not following her, are you?”

“I don't have a choice.”

“But you haven't been in Baños since—”

“I know.”

“You said you'd never—”

“Goes to show.”

“Never say never. Still…”

Spenser adjusted his Bluetooth headset while passing a slow-ass car in order to keep the tour bus in sight. He'd been following at a discreet distance for the last hour. “I promised Kylie I'd look out for this woman.”

“Yeah, but Baños? Are you sure about this, Spense?”

He quirked a mirthless smile. “Maybe it's time to face my demons.”

“Maybe I should fly up and help.”

“Hell, no.”

“If I didn't know your history, I'd be insulted.” After
a thoughtful pause, Gordo added, “What if I promise not to catch the fever?”

Spenser flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. Just talking about this made him uneasy. “You're a treasure hunter, Gordo. Of course you'll catch the fever.”

“Not if we don't go into the Llanganatis.”

The name taunted him, called to him. Instead of glancing at the formidable mountain range to his left, Spenser stared straight ahead at an exhaust-belching bus. “Did you dig up any more info on River?”

“If you don't want me to join you, just say so.”

“I did.”

“Right.” Gordo blew out a breath. “Let me just say it's hard to dig up dirt on a squeaky-clean person who leads a low-profile life. These days most people belong to some social network—MySpace, Facebook, Bebo, Twitter, LiveJournal. Not River Kane. Aside from the website for Forever Photography, she has zilch Internet presence.”

Spenser had discovered the same thing last night when he'd used a computer at an Internet café. “Kylie said she's a private person.”

“Maybe she's one of those technophobes.”

“Don't think so. Last night in the taxi, she checked text messages on her cell and thumbed coordinates into a Garmin Colorado.”

Gordo whistled. “That's a pretty advanced GPS unit.”

“Mmm.” Spenser signaled to make a turn when the tour bus veered off the main highway and headed for the
entrance of the Cotopaxi Volcano National Park. Miles back it had stopped at the Pasochoa Volcano reserve—another tourist hotspot. He wondered if River would disembark to stretch her legs and take a few pictures as she had before. He hoped so. He felt better seeing her, knowing she was safe and managing the altitude. Although she still looked weary and pale, at least she didn't look like she was going to faint.

Just like before, Spenser parked a safe distance away and watched several tourists stream off the bus, including—thank you, Jesus—River. After nodding to the man who handed her down, she veered off and squirted liquid sanitizer into her palms.

“So she's not a technophobe,” Gordo said.

“No, but she might be a germaphobe.” Between last night and today, Spenser had watched her apply that hand sanitizer at least a dozen times. “She's obsessive about washing her hands. Every time she touches something or someone.”

“Maybe she's worried about catching a tropical disease. You said she'd never been to South America. Who knows what misconceptions she has about yellow fever and malaria?”

“I'm sure she did her homework.” She'd made a point of letting him know she'd researched and prepped for this trip even though it had been spontaneous.

“Speaking of homework, since I couldn't find much on the Internet, I e-mailed a friend, a P.I. who has some shifty ways of obtaining background information.”

“And?”

“I've been waiting to hear back and, lucky you,” Gordo said, sounding distracted, “I just got an e-mail.”

“What's it say?”

“Hold on. I'm reading.”

Spenser massaged the back of his neck and watched as River photographed the distant slopes of the Cotopaxi Volcano. She was so intent on her subject, she didn't notice various men looking her way. Even though her attire was far from provocative—cargo pants, crew-neck T-shirt, denim jacket and a looped scarf—she was a damned beautiful sight. Ivory skin, golden curls, wide green eyes. An angelic aura that drew some devilish attention. Spenser tensed when one of the men approached. He couldn't blame the guy for wanting to make time with River, but if he laid a hand on her…

“Not a lot here,” Gordo said, “but it's interesting. I'll forward it to you so—”

“Hold on,” Spenser said. “I've got an incoming call.” He thumbed over. “Morning, kitten. What have you got?”

“Not much. I heard back from Ella. She said River got a package the day before yesterday. It was postmarked Baños, Ecuador. Knowing River's ex was in South America, Ella assumed it was from him.”

“What was in it?”

“Don't know. River wanted to open it in private. But Ella said it felt like a book. Less than an hour later, River called Ella and told her the same thing she told me. That she was flying to South America to get back the man she loved.”

Spenser flexed his hands on the wheel. A decent night's sleep hadn't cured him of his infatuation. Knowing River pined for the guy who'd dumped her made his balls twitch, and not in a good way.

“If the package was from David,” Kylie went on, “why did River tell me David was in Peru?”

“Don't know, hon.” He watched as River sidestepped the touch of the man who'd been speaking with her for the last three minutes. When she turned to leave, the creep made a lewd gesture to his friend. Spenser reached for his door handle, then eased off.
Get a grip, McGraw.
“Listen, I gotta go, Kylie. Gordo's on the other line.”

“Promise me you'll look out for River.”

“I already did.”

“Yes, but that was before you knew you'd end up in Ecuador. I know this can't be easy, Spenser, but—”

“I promise.” Not wanting to have
the
conversation, he said goodbye and transferred over to Gordo. “What's the scoop?”

“All I can say is, this is one fricking small world.”

Bothered by the surge of jealousy he'd just experienced, Spenser snapped at his friend, even as River hotfooted it back onto the bus. “Spit it out, dammit.”

“River's dad.”

“What about him?”

“He's Professor Henry Kane.”

Spenser frowned. “
Our
Professor Henry Kane?”

“Looks like.”

They'd crossed paths with the eccentric archaeologist three years ago. They'd had dinner and drinks
in a desert cantina. He hadn't mentioned a daughter. Then again, Kane had talked of nothing but the Seven Cities of Cibola. The man was obsessed with legendary treasure.

Llanganatis.

Baños.

“Shit.”