The Unexpected Honeymoon (9 page)

She waited while Carlos rattled the chain against the gate.
“Hola!”
he greeted.
“Estamos aquí para nadir en el
cenote!”

“There's a
cenote
here?” Hearing the word
,
Larissa suddenly realized that's what was painted on the sign. She craned her neck hoping to spot one of the famous Yucatán underwater sinkholes but saw nothing but dirt and scrub.

“The landowner discovered it on his property several years ago. Mostly locals use it, but the resort sends divers here when they are looking for someplace off the beaten path.”

A thin gray-haired man ambled out of the building and down the path.
“Cincuenta pesos cada uno. Y no proporcionamos chalecos salvavidas.”

Carlos turned to her. “How's your swimming?”

“Pretty good,” she replied. Enough so she could hold her own in deep water.

“No problema.”

Larissa tried to keep up with the exchange, but her Spanish was too rusty and basic to understand most of what was being said. Based on the fact Carlos reached into his pocket and peeled off several bills, she assumed the man was the aforementioned Pablo. The old man stuffed the money in his pocket, then wordlessly opened the gate.
“Asquirese de tomar su basura,”
he said as he let them pass.

“He's really got his people skills down,” she noted after the man headed back to his house.

“Now you know why only the locals visit. I think Pablo considers visitors a necessary evil. If he didn't like the money, he'd keep everyone off his property. The
cenote
is this way.” He gestured toward the path on the right, leading into the jungle.

Larissa picked her way beside him, keeping an eye on the ground so she wouldn't stumble again. Stumbling meant Carlos would reach out and catch her. The way she reacted to his touch disturbed her. Tom touched her hundreds of times, and far more intimately at that, and she never broke out in shivers.

“Do you come here a lot?” Until today, she wouldn't have said he looked like the swimming hole kind of guy, although she had to admit, the shorts made him look like a different person.

“Once, when I first arrived, so I knew the kind of place the front desk clerks were recommending. I didn't want to be blindsided by a bad review.”

Why wasn't she surprised? Guests seemed to be the most important part of his world.

Dear Lord, but it was hot. For something that was supposed to protect her from the sun, her hat wasn't doing a very good job. The back of her neck felt like it was on fire. “Do we have much further?”

“We're here.”

Looking up, Larissa saw the vegetation had dropped away, creating a large cavern in the middle of the trees. Peering over the edge, she saw a pool a hundred or so feet below, part of the great underground river system that flowed beneath the entire Yucatán peninsula. The water was so clear, that despite the drop, she could make out rock formations in its depths.

“You're right,” she said, smiling up at Carlos. “This is way better than the ecopark.” Better than better; they had the entire place to themselves.

A crude wooden ladder lead into the cavern. With Carlos leading the way, they climbed to the base. There the rocks formed a natural spiral staircase leading to the water.

“I can see why the Mayans thought these places were portals to the underworld,” Larissa remarked. It really was like entering another world. Tree roots twisted from above like giant gnarled fingers, their ends disappearing into the rocks beneath the water. Meanwhile, long strings of vegetation formed a curtain along one edge. Sunlight streamed through the gaps to fill the dark space with an otherworldly glow. Nature's mood lighting.

“Be careful,” Carlos said. “The condensation makes the rocks slippery and unless you want to practice your cliff diving, I'd watch your step.”

Larissa took the warning to heart and pressed a palm to the wall. After a few more minutes, they reached bottom. The rock formed a shelf a few inches above the water. Beneath the surface, Larissa caught sight of a school of fish darting away from one of the stalagmites and gasped with delight.

“This is amazing! I can't believe we have the whole place to ourselves.”

“I did see snorkeling equipment poking out of that bag of yours, right?”

“You did.” The water was so clear she could see the stalagmites rising up from the depths. She couldn't wait to jump in and explore. Ditching her hat and sunglasses, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt. No sooner did she start to lift the garment than she froze. Carlos was in the process of peeling off his shirt, and damn if he didn't make the task look effortless. The cotton slipped up and over his head in one swift movement. He'd definitely been a cat in a previous life. His body was sleek, with muscles made for action, not show. A dusting of dark hair lent an unnecessary rugged edge.

“If it's all right, I thought I'd cool off while you explored,” he said, when he caught her watching. “Is that a problem?”

“Don't be silly. Of course it's not a problem.” Beyond the fact he was standing shirtless while she was about to strip off her clothes.
Dear Lord, she'd pressed her hand against that chest.
She raised her own shirt, conscious of every wiggle and twist needed to pull the garment over her head. The air hit her bare shoulders in a rush, causing goose bumps. At that moment, her one-piece bathing suit felt way too skimpy. When she finally pulled her head free, she found their positions reversed, and Carlos was staring at her.

“Be careful,” he said. Was it her imagination or has voice dropped a notch? “The water's very deep.”

“O-okay.” Her mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed, then reached for her waistband. Carlos eyes locked with hers. Without breaking their gaze, she popped the button on her shorts and slipped them over her hips. They dropped to the rock with barely a sound. They stood inches apart, the sound of their breathing magnified by the close space, making it seem as though no other noise existed.

Larissa had never felt more exposed. The whole moment was fraught with an intimacy way beyond their surroundings. As for Carlos, his eyes still hadn't released their hold on hers. In the dim light, they looked darker than ever. Predatory, even. She wished she could see past their surface to know what he was thinking, but like all the other times he'd looked at her, she found their depths shuttered.

That didn't stop her skin from igniting from the inside out. Or an ache from starting low in her stomach. She felt on the edge of a far bigger plunge than the water beside her.

“Who dives in first?” Her voice came out a whisper, the question's double meaning hanging in the air.

A strand of hair clung to her damp cheek. She shivered as Carlos brushed it away.
“Dios me ayude,”
he whispered in return. Then, turning, he dove in to the clear blue water.

Good idea,
thought Larissa, ignoring the heavy disappointment in her stomach.
Take the safe plunge.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

“S
URELY
,
YOU
 
ARE
a prune by now?”

Rotating onto her back, Larissa pushed off the ledge with her feet, the water slapping the rock with a soft whoosh. “Possibly,” she replied. “I didn't check.”

Okay, she had checked, but she wasn't ready to dry off. So long as she stayed in the water, she could avoid dealing with what happened earlier. The tension between them seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. At some point, the line had to snap, sending them in one direction or another. Her body knew what direction it wanted. Forty minutes in the cool water and it still tingled from his touch.

And, he'd merely brushed his fingers across her skin. Goodness knows how her body would feel if he actually kissed her. Her mind, on the other hand, wasn't entirely sure finding out was a good idea.

Which was why, pruny fingers be damned, she stayed in the water while Carlos lounged on the rock shelf like a copper-skinned god.

“You have to remember,” she told him, “we don't have underground rivers and caves in New York. We have sewers.”

“Mexico isn't all
cenote
s and tropical lagoons, either, you know. We have our droughts, our poor sewage systems, our earthquakes—”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop being a buzzkill.”

“I'm simply trying to inject a little reality and remind you no place is perfect.”

Maybe not, but her current location certainly came close.

Using the backstroke, she glided across the surface and stared at the cloudless blue sky through the chamber opening. “I still can't believe I'm swimming in my own private underground cave,” she said. Her favorite part was on the far side of the cavern. There, above two giant root systems, the water flowed from the source in a waterfall. She angled her body in that direction, prattling as she paddled.

“When I was a kid, I watched this movie about star-crossed island lovers. In it, the hero comes across the heroine bathing in a lagoon. I remember thinking how she rinsed her hair in the waterfall was the coolest thing ever.”

“Should I go ask Pablo for some shampoo?”

“Would you?” She leaned back and let the stream wash off her forehead. Somehow she suspected the host in him would oblige if he thought her serious. “Anyway, the princess falls in love with the hero. Or Bob Hope. I don't remember which one.”

“Sounds like you watched a lot of movies.”

“Tons. My grandmother used to sew to the classic movie channel.” And God forbid she should change the channel. “While other kids grew up with video games, I grew up counting satin buttons and watching Errol Flynn rescue princesses.”

“I'm beginning to see where you got your romantic streak.”

“What can I say? I'm a sucker for happy endings.”

“Except life isn't like the movies, is it?” A soft plop echoed through the chamber. It was Carlos tossing a pebble into the water. He sat leaning forward with his body hunched over his knees, his attention focused somewhere in the depths.

“That doesn't mean happy endings don't happen.”

“Don't tell me you still believe happy endings are possible after what happened with your own engagement?”

“Why shouldn't I?” She had to believe in them. Otherwise, the alternative was that she didn't get a happy ending, and that idea was untenable. Surely after sitting on the sidelines for so long, she deserved some happiness, even if she failed this time around. “Look at Paul and Linda. They're happy.”

“Si,”
he replied. His unspoken
for now
hung in the air.

The waterfall's appeal faded. Turning around, she began the slow kick back toward the ledge. “My friend Delilah has this saying,” she told him. “Every puzzle has its missing piece, and I think she's right.”

“I don't understand.”

“It means all of us have that one special person who completes us. Our soul mate.”

Carlos laughed and took a drink from the water bottle he'd retrieved from his cooler. “If that were true, La Joya wouldn't have repeat customers.”

“I'm serious.”

“So am I. Five years from now, at least a third of the people lounging by the hotel pool will be unhappy. What will you say about soul mates then?”

“I'll point out the two-thirds who
are
happy, that's what.” Why was he so determined to rain on her parade? “I have to admit, I really don't understand why you're so cynical. You were married.”

“An experience that taught me quite definitively that nothing lasts forever.”

He tried to sound casual, but pain still leaked from between the words. How deep his grief must run. The thought left an ache beneath her breastbone. Was that why he closed off his gaze? Was he trying to keep the world from seeing how much he hurt?

“I'm sorry,” she said in a soft voice.

Carlos set down the bottle. His eyes were black as he looked down into the water. “For what?”

For the fact he'd been left alone. For his anger. “You must have loved your wife very much.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Why else would you be so angry?”

She watched as his attention moved to an invisible spot on the rock. His finger scratched at the surface, each stroke leaving a wet streak, black against gray. “I fell in love with my wife the moment I laid eyes on her. I would have done anything for her.”

And she died leaving him alone. Larissa still didn't understand the cynicism, but she did get the bitterness.

He reached down to grab her by the hand. “Your lips are turning blue. Come out and towel off.”

“My lips are not blue,” Larissa protested. She grabbed his hand anyway, marveling at how effortlessly he pulled her up. Once out of the water, the cold air hit her skin and the comfortable body temperature she'd been enjoying disappeared into a fit of shivers. Instantly, a fluffy towel settled around her shoulders. “See?” Carlos said. “Blue.”

He tightened the terrycloth cocoon, then brushed the damp hair from her face. The sensation of his fingers caressing her skin ignited a new set of shivers.

“You must miss her very much.”

“I miss— She shouldn't have died.”

“No, she shouldn't have,” Larissa replied. What were the words he bit back? Did he think she wouldn't notice the sorrow in his words? The man could shutter his expression all he wanted, but clearly, he hurt and hurt deeply. With good reason. The love of his life died too young. Still, something about the way held back made her think there was more to the story.

“You stayed in too long,
querida,
” he told her.

“Did I?” Based on how her insides were trembling, she wondered if she should still be swimming.

“
Si.
You need to be careful. Too long, and you'll grow weak from the cold.”

“I'm not cold.”

“Your shivering says otherwise.”

Larissa looked him in the eye, her gaze telling him what they both already knew: that her trembling had nothing to do with the water. His hands slowed, the touch becoming sensual. “I don't...I'm not...” He struggled for words to caution her no doubt but the way his gaze dropped to her mouth even as he spoke left no doubt as to what he wanted.

“Me, neither,” Larissa whispered. This was purely physical. Two people giving into an attraction and nothing more. That her heart pounded in her chest in anticipation meant nothing.

Carlos cupped her jaw.
“Tan bella,”
he murmured.
“Me vuelves loco.”

She wanted to ask the translation, but his mouth slanted over hers, erasing all thoughts of conversation. He kissed like he moved, confident and masterful, his lips coaxing a response without effort. Her eyes fluttered shut. Tom's kisses never felt like this. Carlos's kiss pulled the ground out from her feet. It made her head spin. She was dizzy, breathless, aching for more.

And then it ended, broken by a need for air. Carlos's breath was ragged as he rested his forehead against hers. A solitary Spanish oath escaped his lips. Larissa didn't need to translate the hoarsely whispered word. She felt the same way. Just what that feeling was, she couldn't say for sure, but all of a sudden, to call their attraction
purely physical,
sounded very inadequate.

“We should go,” Carlos said, breaking away.

“You want to leave?”

This disappointment in her voice killed him, and it was all he could do to rein in his impulse to erase the tone from her voice. Of course he didn't want to leave. He wanted to pull her back into his arms and kiss her senseless. But with his head spinning, going back to La Joya was the better option. He turned so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye. Any kind of sad expression would be the death of him. “The evening shift starts soon. I need to go back in case there are questions.”

“What's the matter, afraid the hotel won't manage without you?”

He could sense her smile. “You sound like Jorge. He tells me the same thing, although this is the longest I've stayed away since our arrival. I'm curious to see how he reacts.” Originally, he planned only on taking a drive to clear his head, ironically enough, of his thoughts about her.

“I'm sorry if I screwed up your afternoon.”

“Don't be silly. I'm the one who offered.” He was still trying to figure out what made him make the suggestion in the first place instead of driving her to the ecopark as planned. One moment she'd been talking about her childhood, fighting hard to keep her voice upbeat and positive while telling a story that was anything but, the next he was possessed with the urge to show her something unique gripped him.

To make her smile...

So what if he did want to do something nice? Larissa did him a great service today. Why not treat her to something out of the ordinary. His decision had nothing to do with how her story squeezed at the center of his chest. Nothing whatsoever.

As for the kiss... What could he do? She'd been stirring his blood from the moment she opened her hotel room door, and there was only so much resistance a man could muster, especially a man who'd been living as a monk for half a decade.

A soft sigh broke his thoughts. Turning, he saw Larissa folding her towel, a wistful expression on her face. She caught him looking, and blushed. His chest squeezed again.

“I know I've said it before, but thank you for an amazing afternoon,” she said. “This place is unlike anything I could have imagined.”

“I'm glad. Considering how helpful you were with the Stevases, showing you an underground river is the least I can do.”

“Anything to make a guest happy, right?”

“Naturally.” No sooner did he speak than he regretted his answer. “I didn't mean—”

“Relax. I was making a joke.”

Then why did her eyes turn shadowy? Perhaps the fading light was playing tricks with his head. Too many years of weighing every sentence lest he say the wrong thing had turned him overly wary. If Larissa said she was joking, he should take her for her word.

“You're more than a regular guest,” he told her.

“I should think so, unless you kiss all your guests.”

“No. You're the exception.”

“Good to know.”

With his confession came a bout of nerves, bubbling up from place he couldn't name. He needed to explain his actions fully. So she would understand. “It wasn't planned,” he rushed to explain. “The kiss, that is. I'm not...” Again the words failed him. How did you explain to a woman who talked of island princesses and soul mates that the woman you thought was the love of your life drained you dry?

She rallied a smile, saving him. “There's no need to explain. I understand.”

“You do?” Because he wasn't sure he did anymore.

“Sure. Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss.”

Carlos let out a silent sigh. “
Gracias,
querida.
I'm glad we are on the same page.”

Although he'd feel better if she hadn't quoted another movie.

Or if a tiny voice in the back of his brain didn't disagree.

* * *

It didn't take long for them to pack their belongings and climb back to the surface. When they reached the top of the ledge steps, Larissa paused to snap a photo with her cell phone. Something to help her remember paradise. On a whim, she snapped a photo of Carlos as well, catching his profile as he looked down at the water. Another memory to hold.

She lied when she told him a kiss was just a kiss. Kissing Carlos was more like a carnival thrill ride: Exhilarating, euphoric, a dizzying freefall that left her insides trembling with adrenaline and eager to ride again. Would she, though, or was his kiss, like this afternoon's surprise trip, a one-time deal?

Above ground, the weather was as hot as the
cenote
had been cool. By the time they walked back to the entrance and waited for Pablo to unlock the gate, Larissa had gone from refreshed to sweaty again. Perspiration ran down her back and between her breasts.

“So much for blue lips,” she said, pulling at the ruching on her swimsuit. “I have half a mind to turn around and head back to the cavern.”

“I'm—”

Again, she rushed to reassure him. She appeared to be doing that a lot this afternoon; reassuring saved her from hearing apologies. “Evening staff meeting, I know.”

* * *

They walked into the lobby to find a scowling Jorge pacing behind the front desk. “Don't you answer your phone?” he snapped.

“We were in the jungle. You know what the reception is like. What's the problem?”

“We?” His eyes switched to Larissa, and his expression softened. “Oh. I didn't realize.
Lo siento,
Señorita Boyd. I've been trying to contact my cousin regarding an issue that requires his attention.”