“Rafe Antonio at your service, Señorita Worthington.”

As his strong mouth grazed Ari’s hand, a wild series of shocks leaped up her arm. No one had ever kissed her hand before! But the minute Rafe raised his head, she saw that his brown eyes were hard and merciless looking.

“Ohh…well…thank you, Señor Antonio.” She quickly pulled her hand away.

“Call me Rafe,” he told her. He didn’t want to like her. He couldn’t bear to think of spending the coming months keeping guard over a woman—especially a woman like this.

But Morgan Trayhern was counting on him. And Rafe wasn’t the kind of man who would shirk his duty.

Man of Passion
Lindsay McKenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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A homeopathic educator, Lindsay McKenna teaches at the Desert Institute of Classical Homeopathy in Phoenix, Arizona. When she isn’t teaching alternative medicine, she is writing books about love. She feels love is the single greatest healer in the world and hopes that her books touch her readers on those levels. Coming from an Eastern Cherokee medicine family, Lindsay has taught ceremony and healing ways from the time she was nine years old. She creates flower and gem essences in accordance with nature and remains closely in touch with her Native American roots and upbringing.

To Karen David, a delightful maverick

in her own right, and a dear friend.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

“Morgan, I’m glad you could make it,” Ben Worthington said, standing up from behind his large cherry desk and thrusting his square hand out toward him.

“Ben, it’s been awhile since we saw one another,” Morgan replied. Grasping the secretary of the Navy’s hand firmly, he saw Ben’s blue eyes narrow with concern, and wondered once again what had prompted his old friend’s sudden invitation.

“Have a seat,” Ben invited. “Becky,” he called to his assistant, who sat in the outer office, “is the coffee on the way?”

Morgan took a seat in the leather wing chair at the corner of Worthington’s desk and looked around the spacious Pentagon office. All kinds of Navy memorabilia—paintings, photos, diplomas—were affixed to the walls. Ben had been a Navy pilot on the carrier Enterprise during the Vietnam War. Ben’s desk looked just as cluttered and busy as his own, Morgan thought. Through the venetian blinds Morgan could see a patch of blue sky and fluffy white clouds. It was spring in Washington, D.C., and hundreds of cherry trees with white perfumed blossoms surrounded the Capitol and nearby monuments.

As Worthington’s prim and brisk secretary entered the office, silver tray in hand, Morgan gave her a nod. She smiled and handed him a white china cup decorated in gold trim.

“If I remember right, Mr. Trayhern, you like your coffee straight?”

Grinning, Morgan took the proffered cup and saucer. “Indeed I do, Becky. You’ve got a long memory.”

She smiled broadly and gave her boss his coffee. “Details are important around here, as you know, sir.” She set the tray on a cherry coffee table that sat off to one side, near the cream-colored, buttery-soft leather sofa. “And in case either of you wants a midmorning snack, there’s a delicious coffee cake drizzled with caramel just begging to be eaten.”

Groaning, Morgan thanked the tall, graceful secretary, whose red hair had become peppered with silver since he’d last seen her. In her mid-fifties, Becky had been working for Ben Worthington for a long time, and she was more than just an assistant, she was his right hand.

“I need that coffee cake like I need a hole in my head,” Morgan confided to Ben as Becky quietly closed the door to the office to leave them in complete privacy.

Ben raised his thick, sandy-colored brows as he sipped his coffee. “Makes two of us. I don’t get out and exercise like I used to.” He looked around the office. “Maybe it’s this place.”

“Or the pressures and crises that keep popping up to throw you off your scheduled maintenance,” Morgan said, his mouth twisted wryly.

“I see you know that one, too.”

“My middle name is crisis,” Morgan agreed with a chuckle. He eyed the coffee cake. “I shouldn’t, but I’m going to….” Rising to his full height, he unbuttoned his dark blue pinstripe jacket and moved over to the coffee table. Twisting to look over his shoulder at Ben, he asked, “Want to join me in collusion?”

Laughing, Ben patted his girth. “I’m twenty pounds over right now, Morgan. I don’t dare.”

“I just thought I’d have some company so I wouldn’t feel so guilty about cutting such a huge piece for myself,” he murmured as he sliced off a healthy portion and placed it on a china plate. Picking up the plate along with one of the forks and white linen napkins Becky had thoughtfully left behind, Morgan moved back to the wing chair and sat down.

“What’s on your mind, Ben?”

Scowling, Ben put his coffee aside and picked up one of several gold-framed photographs on one side of his massive desk. “How long have we known one another?”

Morgan sat back and chewed on the sweet, mouth-melting coffee cake. “Almost as long as Perseus has been in existence,” he replied, referring to the covert government organization he headed.

Moving his hands over one small photo, Ben studied it. “That was ten years ago. Arianna was only fourteen years old when you formed Perseus.” He looked up. “She’s my youngest of three children.” Turning the photo around, he placed it so that Morgan could get a good look at her.

“Pretty young lady,” Morgan commented. The photograph showed a woman of perhaps twenty-four or -five sitting among a number of potted plants in a greenhouse. She was delicate looking, with short, blond hair and her father’s sky blue eyes in an oval face. She was dressed in a pair of jeans, a pink tank top and tennis shoes. The expression on her face was one of pure joy.

Ben leaned back in his chair, his hands folded across his belly. “Arianna was only eight when her mother died of leukemia. She was the youngest and it was very hard on her. She was too young to understand…and her mother’s death changed her forever…. I tried to help, but I was hurting so much myself that I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job of being a parent at that time….”

Morgan lost some of his joviality as Ben turned another framed photograph around for him to look at. It showed Ben and his wife, Ellen. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured sincerely. In some respects, Ellen reminded him of his own wife, Laura, who also had blond hair. “Arianna really takes after your wife, doesn’t she?”

“In every respect,” Ben muttered. “Which is why I asked you to drop by and see me.” Ben waved his hand. “I know you have other appointments today, equally important, and I’m grateful you could squeeze this impromptu visit into your schedule.”

Morgan finished the tasty coffee cake. He blotted his lips with the napkin and picked up the cup of coffee. “I’m glad I could do it. I gather this involves something personal instead of professional?”

Ben sat for a moment, his square face stern, his jowls set, his gaze pinned on his daughter’s photograph. Rousing himself, he nodded. “Yes…it concerns Arianna. And what she thinks she’s about to do.”

Morgan heard the pain in the man’s somber voice and sympathized, though he had a feeling he knew what was bothering him. Ben was a hard-hitting Type A personality—a born leader, who liked to control every nuance of his life. As secretary of the Navy, his commanding leadership was a good thing. But Morgan wondered how Ben’s controlling personality might have impacted his family. He’d seen too many military men who were far too rigid with their wife and children.

“Fill me in on how I can help you,” Morgan said.

Ben sighed and picked up the picture of his daughter, holding it as he spoke. “Arianna is so much like her mother that since she’s grown up, I sometimes forget and think Ellen’s in the town house whenever Arianna comes over. Arianna’s twenty-five now, and has just graduated from Georgetown University with a degree in business and a minor in Spanish.”

“Impressive,” Morgan murmured. He thought of his own children, who were growing up quickly. Jason was ten now, and little Katy wasn’t far behind. And the fraternal twins, Peter and Kelly, were a year old. “I’ve got a college fund already established for my four kids. I’m hoping they’ll see the benefits of a college education like your daughter, Arianna, has.”

Worthington’s mouth tightened slightly. “I forced her into getting a degree in business. Maybe it was wrong of me, but I wanted Ari to have a solid foundation, so she could earn money and control her own life instead of having it controlled by others. She’s a very intelligent girl, if she’d just settle down.”

Touching the frame, Ben continued unhappily, “She’s a dreamer, not a hard-core business type, Morgan. My wife was a dreamer, too. Lord, she had so many dreams. Ellen loved to travel. She wanted to go around the world. She loved orchids, and I had a small greenhouse built for her. Ellen and Arianna spent hours out in that little steamy box where she grew all those orchids. In fact, the year before Ellen died, she made a concerted effort to be with Arianna. They spent a couple hours every day, up until the last two weeks before her death, out in that greenhouse.”

Touched, Morgan murmured, “It was a parting gift of love that Ellen gave to her then.”

Ben’s normally hard face softened somewhat. “Yes…Ari was all she had left. Our son, Kirk, was at the Naval Academy at the time.” He gave Morgan a pained look. “I think you already know our middle daughter, Janis, died at age thirteen. She took a stupid dare from a boy at a riding stable. He bet that the horse she was riding couldn’t jump a four-foot fence. It didn’t, and she fell off and broke her neck, dying instantly. It was a blow to all of us, but especially Ellen.” Rubbing his neck, Ben muttered, “I sometimes think that the shock of her death—the trauma of our loss—triggered Ellen’s leukemia. She contracted the disease six months after Janis died. It’s too coincidental, in my book.”

“And Ari got shunted aside during that time?”

“Yes, but she was the kind of little girl who would go off to her room and play for hours in a make-believe world.” Ben roused himself and gave Morgan a half smile. “She still does. And that’s the problem.”

“How?”

“One of the things my wife wanted to do more than anything else was take a trip down to the Amazon in Brazil to find orchids and draw them. My wife had a master’s degree in art. She was an incredible artist. She talked to Ari endlessly about all her dreams, and urged her to fill her life with exploration, with adventure, with going places.”

“All the places Ellen hadn’t gotten to go, right?”

“Yes.” Grimly, Ben sat up and said, “Ari has it in her head to go down to Brazil, to that damned jungle, and do exactly as her mother said—find orchids, draw them and have a book published on them. The only problem is that Ari is a delicate child. She hasn’t got any backbone. She’s painfully shy and has low self-esteem. Yet,” Ben growled in frustration, “she wants to traipse off to Brazil and do this crazy, stupid thing.”

“She’s twenty-five,” Morgan said. “Old enough to make up her mind on what she wants to do.”

“That’s the point!” Ben shot out of the chair and began to pace, his hands resting on his hips. “Ari has been a good girl. She’s been responsible. She’s done everything I’ve ever asked of her. Then, all of a sudden, she comes for a visit and tells me—tells me—that she wants to fulfill this crazy dream for her mother.”

“Why not let her?” Morgan asked. He could easily understand what was fueling the daughter’s rebellion. In making her mother’s dying wish come true, she would help to heal herself from the loss of her beloved parent.

“Because,” Ben said, turning and glaring at Morgan, “she’s not an artist! She has no degree in art. Oh, she dabbles with her colored pencils, and her mother did teach her some art techniques…but to think that she’s got the kind of artistic professionalism that a book demands? No. No way. I just don’t want to see her set herself up for disappointment. And risk her neck by running around a foreign country alone.”

Ben sighed. “Ellen used to read Arianna books on Brazil. They would sit for hours with five or six orchid books spread all across her bed, and they’d make plans about which species should be drawn for the book. Ari has it in her head that she can go gallivanting off to the jungle and draw those orchids.”

Shrugging, Morgan finished the coffee and said, “I haven’t met a twenty-something yet who didn’t rebel, didn’t want to go out and knock heads with life, Ben. If this is her rebellion, I’d say it’s a pretty healthy one, from my perspective.”

“Don’t side with her on this,” Ben warned. “There’re drug runners down in Manaus. There’s as much cocaine being funneled up through that country as there is rainwater pouring down on the Amazon jungle. I’m worried about her. She’s been a homebody. She’s not an explorer. She’s not worldly or even practical, Morgan.”

“In other words, Ari needs a babysitter and a guard dog? Is that why you asked to see me? You want me to assign a merc to her while she’s down there, to keep her out of trouble?”

“Out of harm’s way,” Ben added fiercely. He raked his fingers through his short, neatly cut hair. Sitting down, he sighed. “Ari is a mouse, Morgan. She’s a shadow. She clung to Ellen. She was afraid to do anything unless Ellen cajoled her into it. Ari was happy to stay at home, work with my wife on the orchids, be in the greenhouse with her. She doesn’t have the drive my son or I have. She doesn’t have a game plan for her life. Ari goes around in this idealistic, spacy kind of state, believing good of everyone and everything. She’s too damned trusting. Too forgiving.”

Sighing, Morgan said, “Life has a way of giving us more backbone, more reality-based perspectives, Ben. But to get that, you have to go out of the home and through life’s revolving doors into the fray we call the real world. You know that. It sounds like Ari is ready to do it. I don’t see that as bad, do you?”

“Why the hell couldn’t she just take the job I got her on Wall Street? I have a major stock brokerage firm that wants her right this minute. But she said no. She wants to take a year off, go to the Amazon and draw orchids and create this book. Hell, it’ll fail. She’ll fail.”

“Failing is a part of living,” Morgan said. “Failing gives us strength, endurance and backbone.” When Ben’s face flushed with anger, he held up his hand. “I think I’ve got just the man for this personal mission to protect Arianna from herself.”

“Who is he?” Ben demanded, getting up again. He poured himself more coffee and filled Morgan’s cup while he was at it.

“Name’s Rafe Antonio. He’s what they call a mateiro or a backwoodsman, in Brazil. In our country, he’d be known as a forest ranger. He has a territory about three hours east of Manaus, down the Amazon River, that he protects from poachers, miners and drug runners. His main care is for the Indians in that region. He’s a good man, Ben. Someone you can trust.”

“And you’ve worked with him before?”

“Many times. Antonio is a mole in the Brazilian government for Perseus. He’s aided us on a number of missions over the years. He’s also our eyes and ears down there regarding the drug trade.”

“And how do you think he’ll react to having to babysit my daughter?”

“I don’t know,” Morgan said. “I’ll contact him and find out. Rafe is someone you want around if trouble stirs. He comes from a very rich, old, aristocratic family in Manaus. His father’s family comes from direct Castilian Spain aristocracy. His mother was a socialite from São Paulo. Señor Antonio is a very rich and powerful man in Brazil.”

“Sounds like Rafe went his own way,” Ben muttered. “If he comes from rich and successful parents, not to mention aristocratic bloodlines, to be nothing more than a damned forest ranger—”

“Hold on,” Morgan warned. “Rafe has a Ph.D. in biology from Stanford Medical University in California. He’s written several books on herbs used by the medicine men and women down in the Amazon Basin. He’s widely regarded as an expert on them by scientific and pharmaceutical industries around the world.”

“Oh,” Ben muttered, “I thought he was just a junkyard dog.”

“With no breeding and papers?” Morgan controlled his mounting anger. Sometimes Ben Worthington was a snob. He was born of money, power and position, and had not come up through the ranks of the little people, as Morgan had.

“All right, all right. I was out of line. I apologize. So you think he can handle my daughter?”

“Rafe won’t ‘handle’ your daughter,” Morgan said softly. “I’ll give him orders to protect her, though, to help her fulfill her mother’s dream. He lives on a houseboat three hours from Manaus. I’m sure he can provide shelter for Ari.”

“Frankly, I’d like him to talk my bullheaded daughter into coming straight home.”

“You aren’t going to be able to tell a twenty-five-year-old much,” Morgan said with a chuckle.

Ben scowled heavily and drummed his fingers on the desk. “Tell this Antonio that if he talks my daughter into doing an about-face at Manaus International Airport, there’s a hundred thousand dollar bonus in it for him.”

Morgan hesitated. “I’m afraid that kind of carrot dangling in front of Rafe won’t work. He’s got pretty strong moral and ethical boundaries. He can’t be bought off, Ben.”

“You mean he wouldn’t try and talk my daughter into turning around and getting back on a plane headed for the States?”

Morgan shook his head. “He’s a man of honor. The type of honor the old Castilian aristocracy still has. Actually, he should be living in Victorian, or maybe Napoleonic, times. He’s fighting for the underdogs, the weak, and those who need the kind of help he can supply. The miners, drug runners and drug lords hate him and have a heavy price out on his head. Rafe is a modern-day knight in many respects. I don’t think he would take money to do something he saw as underhanded to someone like Arianna.”

Snorting, Ben rolled his eyes skyward. “Just my luck.”

“I choose people with strong morals and values, Ben. You know that. If they aren’t in that category, Perseus won’t hire them.”

“I know, I know….” he said in exasperation. “On one hand, I feel good he’ll protect Ari. On the other…well, dammit, everyone can be bought for a price. It just depends upon what’s important to them. Does he have a foundation or something set up for his Indians?”

“Yes, he does.” Morgan eyed him warily. “If you think a hefty donation to his foundation will make him talk Ari out of staying in the Amazon to complete her dream, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Ben. In this case, Ari is the underdog and Rafe won’t take your side against her at any price.”

“Just a thought…” Ben leaned back in his chair, pondering the situation. “Well, I’ve got one last chance to talk Ari out of this fiasco adventure of hers. I swear, she’s like Joan of Arc on a mission. I’ve never seen her like this. Before…well, she did what I wanted or asked of her. Now she’s digging in her heels like some kind of fanatical zealot and refusing to budge from her position. This is a girl who always knew the meaning of the word compromise and would bend over backwards for me.” Drumming his fingers again, he added in a frustrated tone, “But not this time.”

Sitting up, Morgan said gently, “Ben, maybe your daughter needs to spread her wings. She’s at that age. I watch our kids growing up, and every day I see them becoming more and more independent from us.”

Arching one brow, Ben said, “And you encourage it?”

“Of course. The last thing Laura and I want are kids who can’t struggle and survive in life. They have to learn how to do that. It hurts us to see Jason and Katy exploring, knowing that they’re going to make a mistake, or learn a hard lesson. No denying it’s painful to watch. But they’ve got to make mistakes, Ben. You can’t keep protecting Ari because you lost your other daughter. And reading between the lines, it looks like you did just that and she’s become very dependent upon you as a result.” Opening his hands, his voice becoming softer, Morgan added, “Loving our kids is hell on our hearts, Ben. And with you losing Ellen, as well as Janis…well, I can’t blame you for wanting to protect Ari like you have. Someday I’m sure she’ll appreciate what you’ve done and are trying to do for her.”

“But not now?”

“She’s only twenty-five,” Morgan said, smiling faintly. “Remember when you were in your twenties, Ben?”

“Yeah, I had a jet strapped to my butt and I was shooting Migs out of the skies over North Vietnam.”

“Not exactly a safe job, was it? Did you ever think what your parents must have felt or thought?”

“Not at the time, no. I felt it was my right to do what I wanted to do.”

“Okay…then transfer that feeling, that driving need to be yourself, to Ari. That’s where she’s at.”

“Humph.”

Morgan drank his coffee and allowed his words to sink in. He saw Ben’s large, fleshy features set into a bulldog look of denial. Placing his cup on its saucer, Morgan said, “At least she hasn’t got a jet strapped to her, out in combat. Look at the bright side of this. Hunting down orchids and sketching them isn’t exactly dangerous. Let her off that protective leash you’ve got her on. Rafe Antonio is a man of honor. A modern-day knight. I know he’ll care for Ari like you or I would, if we were in his shoes.”

“But…she’s just a girl!”

“Maybe you need to shift how you see Ari,” Morgan warned. “At twenty-five, Ari is no ‘girl.’ She’s a young woman.”

Rubbing his brow fiercely, Ben glowered across the desk. “Dammit, Morgan, did Ari pay you to come in here and be on her side of this thing?”

Grinning sourly, Morgan sipped his coffee. “Not a chance, Ben. This is a parent talking to a parent. Jason’s ten. In three years he’ll hit his teens, and from what I’m seeing, he’s going to be a rebel without a cause. A handful. At least Ari is rebelling for the right reasons. She wants closure with her mother’s death and maybe she hopes to find herself—her real self—without any of her family being around. All kids need that adventure in life to give them a sense of who they really are. Ari needs to find out who she is. Not the daughter. Not the sister. But herself.”

“I should pay you a hundred bucks an hour to be my shrink,” Ben griped good-naturedly.

Chuckling, Morgan stood up. “I’m going to be late for my appointment with the Joint Chiefs of Staff if I don’t hightail it out of here, Ben.” He thrust his hand out to his old friend. “I’ll have my office fax a dossier on Rafe Antonio, and his photo, to you. You’ll have them by this afternoon. That way, you can talk intelligently with your daughter about him being her guide.”

“Bodyguard.”

Morgan released Ben’s hand. “That, too. My office will get in touch with Rafe by Iridium phone satellite transmission. Down there in the jungle, only direct satellite transmissions can get info in and out. Standard cell phones are useless. I’ll make sure my people give you the confirmation that he knows Ari is coming to Manaus. Just call and give them the airline and flight information.”

Ben sighed and looked dejectedly down at his desk. “I don’t know, Morgan. Being a parent is hell. I worry for Ari. I’ll probably have insomnia while she’s down there….”

“When you read up on Antonio, I don’t think you’ll lose sleep,” Morgan reassured him as he opened the door. “Just tell Ari she’s in good hands.”

Chapter Two

“Will you settle down?” Ari hissed the words to herself as she sat tensely in the living room of her condo. It was located near Georgetown University, where she’d spent five years of her life pursuing a degree she didn’t want. Her father was to meet her at 8:00 p.m. She knew he’d be punctual; he always was. In fact, he ran his life by that darned appointment book of his. After all, Ben Worthington was a power broker who moved in the highest circles of politics and government in the country.

Chewing on her full lower lip—a nervous habit she took up whenever she was about to have a confrontation with him or anyone—she uncrossed her legs and sat straight on the flowery print couch. Her mind raced. She had to have all the reasons why she had to go to the Amazon down pat or her father would shred them with his cold, analytical skills. Her heart almost burst with anticipation and she collapsed against the back of the couch. She had to go! Her father had to let her.

When the doorbell rang, Ari jumped what felt like three feet off the couch. Instantly, her stomach knotted as she leaped to her feet and walked breathlessly to the door, smoothing a hand over the long-sleeved lavender blouse she wore with dark navy trousers and comfortable brown loafers. Opening the door, she saw her father standing there, towering over her with his massive height. She could see dark shadows beneath his pale blue eyes, and the set of his mouth sent a frisson of fear through her. Beneath his left arm was a manila envelope, and he carried a black leather briefcase.

“Hi, Father, come on in….” She stepped aside. “You look really tired. Hard day?”

Ben ambled into the small, neatly kept condo. “It was a tough day, Ari. Yes, I’m beat.” He glanced around the room, realizing once again how much her condo reflected Ellen’s taste in furniture, colors and greenery. Ari had created space for about six orchids on the windowsills. Some of them were in bloom. When he halted, turned and looked down at his youngest daughter, he thought about how much she looked like Ellen had when they’d first gotten married. They’d been in their mid-twenties, and Ben recalled vividly how he’d plunged over the edge when he’d seen Ellen. She was so alive, almost ethereal. More like a diaphanous cloud than something created from terra firma. Though Ari had his light blue eyes, she had Ellen’s thick, gold hair and oval face. In fact, Ari was the same height and build as Ellen. His daughter had let her hair grow since graduating from college and it hung in a loose pageboy around her slumped shoulders.

Ben wished Ari would square her shoulders and stand up tall and proud. But she never did. He watched as she fluttered around the living room, removing several magazines from the couch to the coffee table, next to the lacy fern that sat there.

“Have you eaten?” Ari asked, her heart pounding hard with anxiety.

“Yes, I have.” Ben sat down. Ari took the overstuffed chair opposite him. Chewing on her lip, she watched as her father put down the briefcase and then slowly opened the thick manila envelope.

“What’s that?” She hoped it was her airline ticket for Manaus.

“Your adventure,” he muttered. Lifting his head, his hand resting on the papers he placed on his lap, he said, “Are you sure you want to do this, Ari? I’ve got a job on Wall Street waiting for you. Why can’t you drop this idea of yours and do something solid for your career?”

Hurt wove through her. She avoided his piercing blue gaze. Ari had a tough time looking people squarely in the eyes. She always felt so worthless, so inept and small in comparison to those who could boldly meet someone’s gaze and hold it. She admired people who could. She felt like a coward most of the time. Rubbing her face with her hands, she whispered, “Father, I’ve got to do this!” Her soft voice grew fervent. “Please? This is for Mom.” She put her hand against her heart. “She dreamed so much of going to the Amazon to hunt orchids and draw them. I really want to do this for her.”

Wearily, Ben studied his daughter’s features in the lamplight. She looked more girl than woman to him. Maybe Morgan was right and he needed to see Ari differently. But dammit, it was hard. Almost impossible to do. “But you can’t even draw, Ari!” Instantly, he saw how his words wounded her. Every little emotion registered across her face, just as it had on Ellen’s. They were so much alike that it broke his heart. “I’m sorry, Ari…you just don’t have your mother’s education and training. You never took a course in art.”

Pressing both hands to her heart, Ari fought back the tears. She felt like such a loser. She wanted desperately to please her father, but this thing, this urge deep in her heart and gut, was driving her like a fanatical force that would no longer be ignored. She had to respond to it, to how she really felt. Heart aching, Ari whispered, “I know I’m a lousy artist, Father. I don’t even pretend to call myself one. But I love to sketch. I used to sketch with Mom all the time. Remember how she’d loan me some of her paper and colored pencils and we’d both draw the orchid she chose?”

“Only too well,” Ben admitted tiredly. On the walls of Ari’s condo were at least ten of Ellen’s original paintings of her beloved orchids. Ellen had been a small sensation in the art world with her talent for portraying the luscious, feminine-looking orchids. It had started as a hobby, but she had eventually made a lot of money at it, as well as achieving no small amount of fame.

Ben studied Ari. She looked helpless to him, her hands pressed against her small breasts, her eyes pleading. What tore at him most were the unshed tears he saw in them. Dammit, he didn’t mean to hurt her or make her cry. Ellen would cry at anything and everything. Ari was no different.

“Look,” he said gruffly, “I’ve got your airline ticket here, your passport and everything you need. You’re going, okay?”

Instantly, Ben saw a shining, joyous light come to her large, widening eyes.

“Oh, thank you, Father!” Ari leaped off the chair, came around the coffee table and threw her arms around his neck, giving him a fierce hug.

“Ari…don’t get carried away,” he ordered brusquely, untangling his daughter’s arms from around his neck. “You’re not a little kid anymore,” he muttered. “You’re a young woman….”

Laughing delightedly, Ari sat there, one leg beneath her on the couch as she felt a thrill of freedom flow through her. He was going to let her go to Manaus! Suddenly she was scared. She’d lived with fear all her life, so this was just a new kind to her. It felt delicious in comparison to her other fears, however. Soaring giddily on the news, she said, “Father, are you saying I’m too old to give you a hug every now and then?” He had always been uncomfortable with touching and holding, and Ari never understood why. Her mother had been such a toucher and hugger in comparison, but Ari had never seen her parents kiss or even hold hands out in public. Yet she knew to this day that her dad still loved her mother fiercely. Her photos were everywhere in his condominium and on his desk at the Pentagon. Ari knew he kept a color photo of her mother in his wallet, too.

“You’re growing into a young woman,” he said bluntly. “You and I have to adjust to that.” He hoped by using Morgan’s words that he could help Ari feel a little more confident about herself. A little more sure. Ben had never seen such a flighty, uncertain person as Ari. He blamed it on the unexpected death of Janis and then her mother. Despite their age difference, Ari and Janis had been very close. And Ari had almost given up on living after Janis died. She was just a shadow, no, a mouse who ducked and dodged her way through life, running to the safety of her dream world.

Trying to quiet her spontaneous outburst, because she knew her father disapproved of effusive emotional displays—touching him with her hand or, heaven forbid, hugging him around the neck— Ari asked, “Is all of that for me?”

“Yes.” Ben held up the packet. “I talked to an old friend of mine today. He knows someone—a guide down in Manaus—who is going to help you.” Ben did not mention that Rafe Antonio would also act as her bodyguard, because he knew Ari would instantly rebel. Let his daughter think she was on her own. He placed a color fax in her hands. “This is a photo of Rafe Antonio. He’s a forest ranger near Manaus. He’s got a camp three hours east of there on the Amazon River. I’ve hired him to help you hunt for your orchids. You can stay at his camp, which is near one of the Indian villages he takes care of.”

Awed and stunned by her father’s help, Ari held the paper in her hands. The man in the photo wore a short-sleeved khaki shirt with some kind of emblem on the sleeve. He was standing languidly on what appeared to be a very old, beat-up houseboat. She could see a wide, muddy river behind him. The Amazon? She hoped so. He was so tall and athletic looking as he rested his elbow on top of the wooden pilot house. His face was square, his skin a golden color, his hair short and jet-black. His eyes were filled with laughter, and the wide smile showing his even white teeth made her smile in turn. He looked like an adventurer. Ari’s heart began skipping wildly. Rafe was terribly good-looking, in her opinion. Was he married? Did he have a lot of kids? Ari thought so. He looked married.

“He has a kind face, Father.”

Ben snorted. “You’re just like your mother, Ari, thinking you can look at someone’s face and know him.”

“Sure you can.” She saw her father frown in disapproval. Lately, she’d been getting awfully mouthy around him. Normally she kept such thoughts to herself. Ever since the desire to go to the Amazon had taken hold of her soul and heart, she couldn’t keep the words, her true feelings, from spilling from her lips. Cringing inwardly, she saw the censure in his eyes.

“This man is to be trusted,” Ben said with an effort. He didn’t want Ari to know he was a mercenary in the employ of Perseus. Otherwise she would become suspicious. He had carefully extracted the info from the paperwork he was about to give her. “I’m leaving his résumé and curriculum vitae with you. You can read it on the flight down to Manaus. He’s got a degree in biology. Where he works, there’s plenty of orchids to keep you happy.”

“Wonderful!” she gushed. “Oh, I’m so happy, Father. Thank you!”

“I don’t approve of you going down there, Ari. Don’t mistake what I’m doing. I’m very disappointed you aren’t taking that job on Wall Street which I worked hard to get for you. You think life is easy. You think you can just traipse off on this airy-fairy dream of yours. You never took journalism in university. You need to do that if you want to write a book. And you don’t have a degree in art. I don’t know why you think you can create a book of orchid sketches with text and actually sell it.” Raking his fingers through his hair, he pinned his daughter with a dark gaze. She hung her head and avoided his eyes, as always.

“I’m doing this for you because I know you’ll do it anyway and I’d prefer you had my help. And dammit, I don’t want to see you floundering around in a foreign country, in a strange city, trying to find someone who can help you hunt for orchids. Chances are you’d be robbed, killed or worse, kidnapped, and I’d get a call for a million-dollar ransom to get you back. No, Rafe Antonio is in place because I want you as safe as you can be on this jaunt of yours.”

Pain filled Ari. “I—I understand, Father.”

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” he demanded, barely keeping the anger out of his voice.

Looking from side to side, still afraid to meet his eyes, which Ari knew snapped with frustration, she said, “I don’t really know. Mom said it would take at least three to six months to find enough orchids to fill a book. And then I’d need to go to New York to talk to publishers, get them to buy it.”

Ben sat there helplessly. “Six months? You’re going to be in Brazil for six months?”

“I don’t really know, Father. It could be more or less. Mom figured it would take about thirty orchids per book. If I can find them sooner, I’ll be back sooner.”

“The sooner the better,” Ben growled. He flung his hand toward the packet of information he’d tossed on the coffee table in front of them. “Read through the stuff. Antonio has a recent photo of you. He’ll know you on sight. He’s going to meet you after you get out of Customs at the Manaus airport.”

Nodding contritely, Ari felt like crying. She was going on the adventure she and her mother had plotted and planned for months. During the last year of her mother’s life, when she had been sick with leukemia, Ari had spent hours sitting on her bed, writing notes on the dream trip her mother yearned to take—but never would. That didn’t stop her mother from imagining every day of it, however. And now Ari wanted to live that diary she’d filled with her mother’s dreams. She wanted to fulfill them even if she couldn’t draw or write very well. Ari was sure she’d never get the book sold, but she was going to try because it had meant so much to her mother, who had never had her dreams fulfilled. Ari was only sorry her father didn’t understand why she had to go to the Amazon.

“I’ve got to leave,” Ben said abruptly, and stood up. He rebuttoned his suit coat, smoothed his tie into place and gazed down at her. Ari seemed so fragile. Her skin looked so delicate that he could see the fine veins beneath her large, expressive blue eyes. In a robotlike motion, he reached out and briefly touched her sagging shoulder. “Have a good flight tomorrow, Ari. Call me when you get to Manaus?”

“Sure,” she murmured. His touch was so brief, like a butterfly landing and leaving. Ari ached to have him pull her into his arms and embrace her in farewell. She quelled her own desire to fling her arms around him again. He seemed so embarrassed and uncomfortable when she did it. Crossing her arms against her chest instead, she kept her distance.

Ben pulled out a package from the inner pocket of his coat. “Here, a going away gift, Ari. Use it frequently.”

Surprised, she took the gold-foil-wrapped gift, which sported a red ribbon. “Oh!” she gasped, and quickly sat down, tearing at the wrapping. When she opened up the long, rectangular box, she saw it held a phone. Looking up, a question on her face, she saw her father smile benignly.

“That’s an Iridium phone—the latest technology available. It cost three thousand dollars. Use that to call me anytime. It hooks up to satellites directly. Cell phones don’t work down in the jungle where you’re going.”

Touched, Ari gently put the gift on the couch. Against her better judgment, she threw her arms around her father. He was so tall! So strong and stalwart, when she felt none of those things about herself. Pressing her cheek against his chest, she sobbed, “Thank you, Father. Thank you…for everything….”

“Here, here,” Ben growled as he gripped her upper arms and eased away. “Now don’t go getting mushy on me, Ari. Buck up. And don’t cry. I can’t stand women crying.”

Sniffing, Ari swallowed her tears of joy. “Okay, Father.” She gave him a quick smile. “I’ll call you when I land at Manaus.”

“Yes,” Ben said sternly, “you’d better.” He jabbed a finger toward the fax photo of the mercenary. “And I want to know that you’ve hooked up with Antonio. Do not leave the airport unless he’s there. Do you understand?”

Ari tried to look appropriately contrite as her father went through a three-minute list of what he did and did not want her to do when she reached Manaus. Hands folded in front of her, unable to meet his eyes, she simply bowed her head and listened, as she always had. But her brain and heart were elsewhere while her father harangued her. Every time she stole a look toward the coffee table and saw Rafe’s picture, her heart leaped like a wild gazelle. Why? Ari was stymied. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. She was sure he was married. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy how handsome he was. She’d look, but not touch. Ari would never think of liking a man who was married. She held marriage sacred. Besides, she had been a wallflower, with few dates coming her way in university. Most men saw her as a weak-willed little thing incapable of holding their interest.

Still, when her father finished his list and headed toward the door, Ari brightened considerably.

As she quietly closed the door behind him, she sighed with relief. She’d won. She’d taken her first stand with her father and won. Her heart wouldn’t settle down, she was so excited. Walking back to the couch, she eagerly sat down and looked through the rest of the information on her guide. Ari was stunned by his impeccable academic credentials. He’d gone to Stanford Medical University and gotten a Ph.D. in biology! He was more than just a “forest ranger” as her father had said. Much more. Stanford’s medical school was one of the top in the world for medical doctors and scientists. Obviously, Rafe was a scientist.

That thrilled her. He’d have a wonderful knowledge of her beloved orchids. Because he lived in the Amazon, he would know the species and varieties. As she quickly perused his résumé, she noticed he was single and twenty-nine years old. Single? She picked up the photo of him, stunned by this revelation. How could someone as drop-dead handsome as this man be single? That didn’t make sense. Ari told herself he was probably divorced. Surely a man of his caliber, his looks and courage would have found his soul mate by now.

Rafe Antonio looked like a Spanish explorer from the sixteenth century, a world-conquering hero. The fax didn’t give details of his facial features or the all-important eyes. Eyes, to Ari, were indeed the window to a person’s soul which was probably why she was unable to meet most people’s eyes—she felt excruciatingly vulnerable when she did. As if the person staring at her could look directly into her heart and soul. That kind of vulnerability was something Ari experienced twenty-four hours a day. She had no way to turn it off or protect herself.

But Ari didn’t feel vulnerable now; she felt strong and alive. Unable to still the happiness that was palpably flowing through her like a river flowing over its banks in a springtime flood, she leaned back, closed her eyes and pressed Rafe’s picture to her heart. Oh! How wonderful she felt! At last she was going to get to fulfill her mother’s dream. How many books had they read on the Amazon? Ari remembered how her mother had read aloud to her as a seven-year-old. How she’d loved to hear her voice, for her mother knew how to make even the dullest book interesting, make the words come to life. Opening her eyes, Ari sobered a little. Yes, she was fulfilling a dream, but she feared she would never be able to draw the orchids well enough, or provide good text for the book.

“I have to try,” she told herself fiercely, her words echoing around the room. Looking up, she gazed at a huge oil painting her mother had done of the Phalaenopsis, or moth, orchids. The petals really did look like moths’ wings, she mused. The colors were rich and deep, from an elegant white orchid with pink luscious lips, to a pale yellow one and a vivid purple one. Their green, glossy oval leaves provided a fitting backdrop for the hanging spikes in the painting. Yes, there was no question that her mother was an exquisite artist. But Ari wasn’t going to try and pretend that she was too. All she’d take with her to the Amazon was her sketchpad and her trusty set of colored pencils.

“Tomorrow, Ari, you’ll be on your own for the first time….” And she was. She’d done everything her father wanted up until now. She’d gone to university. She’d lived in Georgetown and remained near his townhouse in the nearby suburb of Alexandria. Ari had been a faithful daughter to him by coming over to visit and making him dinner two or three nights a week. She’d been there for him as her mother might have been, if she’d lived. No, tomorrow was a brand-new chapter in her life and she knew it. Fear wound around her heart, yet Ari couldn’t stop the excitement she felt. At last she was going to make her mother’s dream come true…with the help of Rafe Antonio, a man who looked more like a Hollywood star than a forest ranger.

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