Entangled (Serendipity Adventure Romance Book 2) (16 page)

When she came back out, Tobin was leaning on the bike, staring at nothing in particular. A rugged cross between James Dean and Indiana Jones. He looked weary. Worldly. Smoking hot. What the hell had she been thinking to ever let him go?

There was something round and dark in his hand. When he snapped back into focus on her approach and lifted it, she saw what it was. A motorcycle helmet. A brand new, shiny one.

“Come here.” He waved her over and slipped it over her head. They stood face to face, neither saying a word as he ran a finger inside, smoothing her hair back with a touch so soft and tender she barely held back a sigh. She closed her eyes, leaned into his hand, and shut out everything in the world but him.

He kissed her, and though his lips were dry and cracked, it still felt like home. A hopeful, almost yearning kiss. For what, she didn’t dare wonder. It was another second before Tobin pulled away, and another second before he opened his eyes. When he did, there was a promise in them. That he’d get her where she needed to be. He’d do whatever it took, for her.

Then he pulled his own helmet on — the old one they’d left strapped to the handlebars in the rush of their escape — got on the bike, and nodded toward the road.

“Panama City, here we come.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A hundred times over the next five hours, Tobin told himself to lighten up and enjoy this beautiful-girl-on-the-back-of-his-bike gig. To enjoy the warmth of Cara pressed up against his back. The comfortable hold of her arms around his waist. The curve of her legs snuggled up behind his.

Except the clock was ticking, and every mile that took them closer to the city was a mile that threatened to drive them further apart.

He hadn’t even realized it until now, but the rain forest had slowed time down. He’d been living a fantasy, where Cara was his and he was hers and that was all that mattered. Now they were back in the fast lane — literally — and it felt as if a dozen fingers were snapping at him, hurrying him up. Saying
Come on, hotshot, finish this off.

The question was, how to finish it off.

You’ve served your purpose, hotshot. Don’t overstay your welcome.

Clearly, Cara appreciated what he’d done. She might even be thinking they might give themselves a second shot, judging by the warm looks and easy touches she gave him. But where would it all lead? The thoughts crowded and tangled in his mind, much like the traffic that built as a jagged city skyline appeared on the horizon. Panama City. A glittering city stuck between the jungle and the sea. From a distance, it looked almost futuristic, but up close, it was a crumbling mess. He’d been through there before heading to Catalina, and once had felt like enough.

Traffic slowed to a crawl when they reached city limits, and he checked his watch. Two o’clock.

“An hour to the presentation,” Cara said into his ear.

“You know the way?”

She pointed to a sloping steel high-rise to the right of the others, near but still far. Maybe too far.

He tapped his fingers on the handlebars and cursed the traffic. Didn’t matter that it was two o’clock on a Friday and they were heading into the city and not out. In Panama City, the roads were nearly always bumper-to-bumper.

“Screw this.” He revved Lucy up and swung into the breakdown lane.

It worked for a while, until the other drivers did the same thing. Another glance at his watch. Two-thirty. Cara’s fingers plucked nervously at his shirt, even after he put a hand over hers and squeezed it against his ribs. Which only made the ache in him grow stronger.

Maybe they could stay in traffic all day.

But he’d gotten her this far, damn it. Failure wasn’t an option. A man had to have some pride, after all.

He nearly laughed out loud.
Him? Pride?

But on the other hand… Why the hell not?

He took off through the narrow space between the crawling cars, praying none of them made a sudden lane change. Cara pointed him down one street, then another, and even down one that was closed. He raced around a construction site, flew down a one-way side street, and even a couple of sidewalks before Cara pointed.

“Over there.”

He screeched to a stop and parked as Cara spoke rapid-fire Spanish to the guard. Then they were sprinting for the doors. Two fifty-five.

“What floor is it?”

“Sixty-fourth.”

Sixty-fucking-four? He pushed the buttons for all the elevators and didn’t stop pushing until one of them pinged open and let them in.

The doors closed in a solemn slide. Within two stories of the climb, he was tugging at his shirt collar. For the past couple of days, he’d been outdoors, and even the bungalow they’d slept in felt like a natural extension of the jungle. Now they were in a suffocating metal box on their way to the sixty-fourth floor.

Panama. What a country.

There were mirrors all the way around the elevator, each of them a tease filled with Cara’s reflection. She was everywhere, but still too far, so he pulled her close and kissed her for the count of three measured breaths, making the world slow down again. Making him wonder: maybe it wasn’t just the jungle that had the magic power to slow things down. Maybe the magic was in the two of them.

The elevator rattled and they broke apart, looking at each other. Her lips twitched like she was going to say something monumental. Something he really, really wanted to hear.

But then the bell pinged. The doors rolled open. It took everything he had not to punch the
Close Door
button to shut them again.

Too late. Cara blinked, stepped out, and strode down the hall.

“God, how do I look?” she murmured, and something in him bubbled with hope, because if she’d missed the mirrors in the elevator, she might have been thinking about him. Maybe even thinking about
them
.

“You look great,” he said, plucking a leaf out of her hair. Never mind the mud splattered on her shirt. Cara always looked like a million bucks.

Then they turned a corner and a secretary rushed up to her, whisking Cara toward a glass-walled conference room. Cara only let go of his hand when they got to the very end of their fingertips.

“Will you wait for me? Please?”

He nodded. Of course, he would wait. A hundred years if he had to.

He was about to say as much when a man in a slick Armani suit stepped up, his jaw hanging open. “Cara?”

Her eyes shot daggers at the man. “Surprised to see me, Enrique?”

Enrique? The schmuck who wanted Cara’s job? The ass she suspected of holding back the message that she needed help? His fingers closed into two tight fists.

Cara rolled her eyes and strode past the man like he wasn’t even worth her time. With a tongue-tied Enrique in tow, she stepped into the conference room. All eyes jumped to her — including the appraising gaze of a couple of men twice her age. Tobin nearly growled aloud. She asked him to stay? He’d stay all right. Right here.

He parked himself on the edge of a plush chair, folded his arms, and did his best to channel
my-woman, keep-your-eyes-and-hands-off
energy through the glass.

She got right to work with a marker, scribbling notes and numbers on a whiteboard. It was like a TV drama, with the glass wall forming an oversized screen. The way she punctuated each argument with insistent chopping motions of her hands, the way her eyes flashed. Hell, if it were him, he’d give her the bid in a heartbeat. And fire that idiot Enrique, who sat hunched in defeat in a corner of the conference room.

But it wasn’t up to Tobin who won and who lost. It was up to the suits in there. He hated them already. There was a groomed and styled Latino with poaching eyes. Yeah, that guy wanted Cara. The gray-haired boss looked at her with thinly veiled desire, too. All of them, in fact, looked highly suspicious. She could do better than any of them by a mile.

His soul slumped at the thought that came on the heels of that one. Cara could do better than Tobin Cooper, too.

He spent the next hour contemplating that reality as the meeting dragged on. He would always just be Tobin, and that would never be enough.

Maybe it was time to cut his losses and quit while he was ahead. Because somewhere between the rope bridge and the ping of the elevator, he’d finally figured out what he’d been hoping for over the last couple of days. It wasn’t a second chance at Cara or an adventure or even for a night of heaven wrapped around her body, blissful as that was.

It was closure.

Closure on six years of wishing. Wishing to see her smile at him, one more time. To win her trust, even if it was only while hanging off the back of a bike or hurtling off a waterfall. To see her look at him with that special shine lighting up her princess eyes.

And he’d gotten all that. So what was he sticking around for now? Yeah, they loved each other as much — or more — than any two people could. But ultimately, her father was right. Cara could do better.

Unless…

He started sifting through the possibilities, hauling out old plans.

The conference room opened, and the babble of voices shook him out of his thoughts. Cara skipped over and smacked into him with a giant hug.

“I did it! We got the bid!”

He couldn’t care less about which company won the bid, but he spun her around twice because he’d always cheer for her team. Even if it was filled with a bunch of stuffy-looking assholes in suits.

“That’s great!” He kissed her a couple of times, savoring every one.

She rewarded him with a huge smile and a pat on the chest. “It is great. But we have to negotiate a couple of points right now.”

“Right now?”

She shrugged. “It’s Friday afternoon, and the bigwigs want this settled now. It’ll take another hour or two at least.”

He shook his head. “No way. You’ve just crossed half of Panama. Jumped off a waterfall!” Whoa. Had all that really happened today? “You need a break. Food, water.” He was babbling, but damn, didn’t Cara deserve a break?

She patted his arm. “They’re sending food up now. You can snag some off the tray before they bring it in, too. But then I think it makes more sense for you to go to my place and wait there. The secretary can tell you the way.”

He didn’t want to go anywhere, but her gaze flicked back to the conference room where the suits were watching. Waiting.

“I really have to go.” She kissed him and backed away, and it nearly killed him, wondering if that might be the last one. “I’ll see you there soon.”

He didn’t like it, not one bit, but maybe it didn’t help to have her seen with a ragged gringo sporting three days of stubble. He looked around until he caught his reflection in a pane of glass. Didn’t look any better or worse than usual.

In other words, he stuck out in this office like a sore thumb. He gave himself a little shake, like a dog trying to shed a coat full of burrs.

Cara hurried back into the conference room, blowing him a kiss. “See you soon.”

“See you soon,” he whispered, wondering if it was a lie.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Her apartment wasn’t far, and with the secretary’s directions, Tobin was there in twenty minutes. He swung the door open and peered inside, feeling strangely alone. Three days with Cara and he was already spoiled for life. He sighed and stepped in.

It was one of those modern places where everything was a cool white-on-white. He walked around, feeling like a burglar who wasn’t sure what he was looking for. The only comfort was the little hints of Cara filling the corners of the place. The pictures of her family on the fridge. The scrappy college blanket spread across the couch. The picture books arranged neatly on the coffee table.

He scanned them and snorted out loud.
Rain Forests of the World
, said one. He flipped it over and read the back cover.
This stunning visual journey will bring you to the heart of the rainforest and the fascinating cultures that live in harmony with nature…

Stunning visual journey? It was stunning, all right. His ass still throbbed from the bumps they’d hammered over, because he’d been treated to tactile impressions, too. Not to mention olfactory, because even the stink of the city hadn’t purged the rich jungle scent from his memory.

Visual, tactile, olfactory. What else? He rifled through the memories until he screeched to a stop at one.

Sensual. A sensual journey.

They’d had that, too, starting with the kiss under the waterfall and moving on to a night of sexual aerobics in her hut. His eyes strayed to the open door of her bedroom, two steps away. Him and Cara, together again.

His whole body sighed and fast-forwarded through a hundred happy scenarios. Inserted kids and a dog and summer sails on
Serendipity
. Winters on the slopes, autumns full of falling leaves, Halloween costumes, and Thanksgiving feasts. He played them forward, then played them back again. But he kept getting stuck on one scene.

There they were, at a cocktail party to celebrate her company’s successful bid, somewhere in the near future. Him and her, cleaned up and looking like a million bucks. Happy as can be until one of the slick suits ambushed him at the bar.

“So, you’re Cara’s fiancé, huh?” Slick Suit would start, sounding almost-but-not-quite chummy and sincere.

Tobin would stand a little taller and give a little nod, pretending his soul didn’t sing every time he heard those two words aimed in his direction.
Cara’s fiancé.
He was hers, she was his. Forever.

“Lucky guy,” Suit Guy would say, picking his teeth.

Luckiest guy on earth and he knew it, so yeah, he’d give a modest shrug.

And then the assault would begin. Subtly, craftily.

“So, what do you do?”

He’d open his mouth then shut it again, and Suit Guy would smirk. Never mind that Tobin was good at what he did, or proud of what he did. Never mind that it kept him healthy and happy. That it made him money, too — more than the average person would guess. None of that counted for anything, though, not in Cara’s world. He’d always be the ski bum. Never good enough.