Operation Tropical Affair: A Poppy McVie Adventure (Poppy McVie Series Book 1) (20 page)

He nodded. “It is what it is.” He shook his head. “And the girls back home…”
 

“Where’s home?”

“Montana. I grew up hunting and fishing. Loved the outdoors.”

I nodded. A lot of Fish and Wildlife agents had similar backgrounds.
 

He took another sip of wine. “As far as the undercover work, well, I’ve got no ties and I’m good at it.”

I glanced at my phone. Nothing.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asked.

“What? Why?”

“The phone.”

“Oh, no. Just checking the time.”

His brows raised. He wasn’t satisfied with my answer.

“Sorry, habit I guess.” I tucked it under my thigh so I’d feel it vibrate if I got a text. “I just realized,” I said. “I don’t even know your first name.”

His expression didn’t change. “Everyone calls me Dalton.”

“Isn’t that your last name?”

He nodded slightly. “You can call me Dalton.”

“All right.”
Mental note. Dig into that story.

I smiled. He smiled. There was a big awkward space you could steer a cruise ship through.
 

The waiter arrived to take our order. I chose the Pasta Primavera and Dalton ordered the Surf and Turf—tenderloin, rare, and grilled lobster.
 

I sneaked a peek at my phone. Nothing. I glanced at Dalton and suddenly felt like a complete fool. What if what I’d done backfired? What if I blew our cover to smithereens and everything he’d been working toward? Or worse?
 

I shook it off.
She’ll pay. She’s gonna pay. And then she’ll come running to us.
 

“So what’s your story?”

He caught me off guard. “What?”

“You’re a vegetarian.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “By the way, that first night, I felt bad for you, but you were a trooper, chewing away on that prime rib.”

I smirked.

“Don’t worry. No one else noticed.”

“Yeah, but how’d you know?”

He cocked his head to the side. “I was sitting right next to you.”

I sighed. Damn. I thought I’d covered pretty well.
 

“I know you’re into yoga. But that’s it. Oh, and you were a Navy brat. Overseas?”

“My mom was a physician on the Mercy. We were in the Philippines for awhile.” I hesitated. He didn’t need my whole life story. “High school in San Diego. Which SEAL team were you?”

“Three.”

“So you were West Coast.”

He nodded, impressed. “That’s right. But you’re changing the subject back to me. You’re good at that.”

I shrugged. It was true. I twirled my bracelet around my wrist.

“That’s a beautiful bracelet,” he said. “I’ve noticed you never take it off.”

I nodded. “My father gave it to me. It was the last…” I looked into Dalton’s eyes. “It was the last time I saw him.” I shook my head. “I should have been there with him.”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

I shook my head. “I was in school, my freshman year. I should have been there with him. If he hadn’t been alone…”

Dalton waited, giving me time before finally asking, “What are you saying?”

“My father was killed by poachers. I know it. I was told it was an accident, but I know where he was. They’d threatened him in the past, but my dad, he was stubborn.”
 

“Poppy, listen to me. If you’d have been there, you probably would have been killed, too.”

I stared off into space, into the past, when my phone buzzed and I jerked in my seat. Dalton eyed me with suspicion.

“You know,” he said. “Maria came out to the golf course this evening. She seemed agitated.”

“Oh?” I said and took a gulp of wine.

“She talked to George, then he canceled the card game with no explanation, and she led him away by the nose.”

“Really? What do you think that was all about?”

“I don’t know, but we leave day after tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow morning you should stop in, make friends. See what you can find out. You can ride over with me.”

“All right,” I said. No way. I couldn’t go there tomorrow morning. If I showed up on her doorstep, it would ruin everything I had going. She had to call me. I’d have to think of an excuse. “I should take something. I saw a bakery in town. We could stop on the way and get a torta chilena or something.”

He eyed me and I couldn’t read what he was thinking. “Okay,” he finally said.
 

Our dinner arrived. As the waiter placed Dalton’s plate in front of him, I stole a second to glance down at my phone. Text from Amanda read:
Done.
 

I raised my wine glass and held it in front of me. “Here’s to working with you,” I said. “It’s been, well, an experience.”
 

He laughed. “Yeah, I’ll say.”

As we ate our meals, I decided I really liked Dalton. I was feeling more comfortable with him. Too bad I’d probably never see him again after we left Costa Rica in two days.
 

Neither of us wanted dessert, so he called for the car and we headed back to our room. He parked and got out to open my door again. “Let’s take a walk,” he said and took me by the hand. He led me down by the pool to a deck that looked out over the valley. Tiny solar lights lit the walkway and gave a warm glow to the night. The insects croaked away in the thicket, the warm air full of the scents of the floral garden. He leaned on the railing and turned to face me. “Nice view, huh?”

“Yes,” I said. I could barely see him in the faint moonlight but the glow of Arenal Volcano stood out in the dark sky.

“Don’t look now but,” he whispered, “we’re being watched.”

“Oh?” I hadn’t seen Yipes or anyone around when we got out of the car. How had I missed him?

“Kiss me,” he said and pulled me to him. His lips met mine, a gentle caress, then he pulled me tighter, passion rising. It’s too dark for anyone to see, I realized, mid-kiss. But I didn’t care. I wanted his kiss. I wanted his arms around me. He pulled away for a moment, as if he were giving me the chance to back away, as though he knew that I knew no one was really watching. I hesitated. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I—”

I wrapped my hands around his neck and pressed my lips to his and I was like a teenager, back in high school at the homecoming dance. My nerves tingled. Oh he could kiss! I leaned into him, pressing my body against his. He held me tight, his hands at the small of my back. I remembered how he’d lifted me up and twirled me around in the airport. Strong but gentle. His kiss was like that, strong but gentle. A flush of warmth came over me and I wanted to give into it. I wanted him to take me back to our room. I wanted to feel his hands on me, to—I pulled away to catch my breath.
 

“We probably shouldn’t—” I bit down hard on my lip.

“I know,” he said and nuzzled my neck.

“I mean, essentially, you’re my boss and—”

“Yeah,” he said, his head nodding in agreement. “You’re right.” But he didn’t let me go from his embrace.
 

“We should call it a night,” I said. “Head back to the room.” I pinched my lips together. “I mean…you know what I mean.”

I couldn’t see his expression in the dark, couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his breathing changed and he held me against him as though he didn’t want to let go. Finally, he nodded and we walked straight back to the room. He shut the door behind him and I was in his arms again. This time he pulled away. “I thought you said—”

“Shut up and kiss me,” I said. He grinned. “No wait,” I said.
Crap!

I spun around and took a few steps away, then turned back to face him. His eyes had turned to a soft brown. He looked at me, waiting, his breath coming in short pants.
 

“I’m not sure we should—I mean, you and I—we probably ought to…”

He nodded.
 

“I’m going to take a shower,” I said. I escaped to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I looked in the mirror. My hair was all frizzed out.
This humidity has messed with more than your hair. Your damn hormones are on the fritz.
I cranked on the cold water.

I left the bungalow early under the guise of wanting to get to the bakery before they were sold out. I told Dalton to wait, I’d be back. I didn’t want him to catch me pacing and I didn’t want him going to the house. Maria hadn’t called yet and I was starting to wonder if she would. Either way, I was leaving tomorrow, back to the U.S., back to the grind, back to working my way up from the bottom. As Dalton had made clear, this was a one-time deal, a necessity wrung from a senior agent’s mistake.
 

My plan had to work.

I climbed the stairs to the tree house. Noah hadn’t been back yet and the place had a lonely aura. So small, so primitive. I went to the bathroom and gave the biscuit can a shake. I grinned with absolute, unadulterated relief when Clyde bounded up the side of the house and swung on the hammock, launching himself into position to catch a biscuit.
 

“There you are,” I said. I lobbed a biscuit into the air and he caught it. I watched him gnaw at it, holding it in his little hand and stump. I marveled at his ability to cope without his right hand. He compensated well. After all, what choice did he have? “Life is suffering,” I said. “That’s what the Buddha said.” He didn’t look my way, didn’t look up from his biscuit. He lived in the moment. That peace for which we strive, he’d mastered. Live for today. Live and let live. “If only others could share your wisdom,” I said.
 

I went out onto the balcony, leaned on the railing, and gazed out at the ocean. “Oh, Clyde, what if she doesn’t call?” The morning sun streamed down into the water making it glow an aquamarine. “I’ll never have this chance again.” I turned back to Clyde. He was swallowing the last crumb. “Maybe I should have listened to Dalton. Maybe I should tell him what I’ve done. I think he’ll understand.”
 

Clyde jumped onto the railing beside me and bobbed up and down, chittering away, his way of communicating.

“I’m just trying to make a difference, you know.” Clyde grinned at me, his round, black eyes looking into mine, like he knew. “You’re lucky now, little buddy. You have Isabella. And Noah.” I frowned. Noah. What was I going to do about him?
 

“I don’t think I’ll ever see you again, Clyde. This is goodbye, you know. Adiós.” Clyde frowned, covered his eyes with his tiny hand, and shook his head. “Isabella must have taught you the word adiós, huh?” He shook his head again. “Oh Clyde.” I picked him up, sat down in the chair, and cuddled him in my lap. “I’ll miss you.” I stroked his head and he cooed. I laid my head back, enjoying the warm morning scents, and warmth of another being, loving me. It was simple. “You’re the perfect man, Clyde,” I said. “Those other guys, complicated. But not you.” I scratched behind his ear. “Not you.”

The phone rang. I jerked in the seat. Clyde leaped from my lap. I looked at my cell. Unknown number. “Hello?”

“Brittany, this is George.”

“Hi, George.” Of course she’d have George call.

“Maria mentioned that you might be interested in looking at some animals yourself?”

“Oh that,” I gave him a Brittany giggle. “No need. I’m all set. Thanks anyway.” I hung up.

I gave Clyde a scratch on the head. “Time to talk to Dalton,” I said and headed for my moped.

He was in the bathroom when I got there. I paced around the room, doubting, rethinking how I was going to tell him. The door opened. “We need to talk,” I said.

“I know last night was—”

“What? No. This isn’t about last night.”

He looked confused. “All right, what then?”

“George just called me. He offered to show me some more animals.”

“What? George? Called
you
? Why would he call you? What did he say?” He paused. “Are you sure it was him?”

“He said Maria told him to call me.”

Dalton’s brow knit with confusion.
 

I shifted on my feet. “Maria believes I’m the one making decisions on the big ticket buys.”

He stared at me for a long, thoughtful moment, then his expression turned to annoyance. His temper in check, he forced out the words, “And why would she think that?”

I offered a don’t-be-too-upset grin. “I kinda told her that.”

His jaw tightened and he asked through clenched teeth, “And why would you do that?”

“She cornered me in the horse barn. She knew I spoke Spanish. She accused me of hiding something.” I gave up on the grin. “So I went on the offensive.”

He spun around, ran his fingers through his hair, and gripped a handful at the top of his scalp. “Please, tell me what you mean by offensive.”

“Nothing really, I just tried to connect with her, you know, psychology 101. Since she’s really in charge, and George is her lackey, I figured if I made her think I had really been faking the ditzy wife thing, give her a good reason, you know, the redirect, she’d understand and we’d bond.”

“Bond?” He spun back around to face me. “You’re not making any sense. And why didn’t you tell me this before?”

I held his gaze. I had no answer. At least one I could tell him.

“Tell me everything.”

“That’s about it really.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” He paced toward the window and back. “So where did George say to meet and when?”

“He didn’t.”

“What do you mean? I thought you said he called with an offer.”

“He did. I turned him down.”

“You what?” He grabbed his hair again and laced his fingers together. He looked like he was holding the top of his head so it wouldn’t blow off. “Why would you—”

“You don’t bite at the first offer.”

“Gee, don’t tell me, Negotiation 101?”

“Actually, I saw it on an episode of MacGyver,” I said, deadpan. He didn’t need to be a total jerk.

He held out his hands like he wanted to grab me by the neck.

“Don’t worry. She’s going to call me herself.”

His cheeks were turning red. “And how the hell do you know that?”

“Trust me. She will.”

He plopped down in the chair, his mouth hanging open.