Paradise (33 page)

“So, I’m going to meet George of the Jungle,” Leah cut into her thoughts. It took Robbie a moment to focus and remember they were flying up Interstate 95 not the Eastern seaboard.

“Yeah, George. You’ll like him. Don’t let him put you off with his humble, good ol’ boy act. And don’t believe a single word he says. He’s an incurable flirt, and every female is an open target.”

“He sounds like the kind of man you should avoid.” Her friend laughed.

“Oh, Leah, I should avoid him. Oh God, I should avoid him, but I can’t.” Robbie clung to her seat as Leah took the exit off the interstate at eighty.

“How are you intending to carry on an affair if he lives in a swamp and you live in the Big Apple?”

“Good question.” One she hoped would be answered for her. “No offense, but your aunt works for a loopy company. That interview yesterday was strange.”

“How so?” Leah took a right turn at sixty. Robbie closed her eyes and prayed her friend had passed the Jeff Gordon school of racing.

“Aside from throwing that curve ball about wanting to hire me instead of my company, everybody seems to have a say-so about everything. Seven people talked to me. I pitched my ideas. Things seemed to be going fine until I met the new VP of Information Technology. This is the guy I’d be working for who doesn’t want to outsource anything.

“Yeah, Aunt Grace mentioned him. She thinks he’s a real A-hole.”

“She’s right. Anyway, instead of an interview, he -- Leah! You’re going to hit the building!”

Robbie ducked as best she could in the tight compartment. Leah slammed on the breaks and allowed the car to spin a perfect one-eighty into a parking space next to the TV station door. Luckily, all the surrounding spaces were empty.

“Yes!” Leah gave an air punch. “I’ve been practicing that one. Come on, we’re going to make it.” They dashed into Channel Ten with minutes to spare.

“This is way too exciting,” whispered Leah. “I’ve never been in a TV studio before. Do you think we’ll see anyone famous?”

“Well, if you have your heart set on Johnny Depp, I’m afraid you’re going to be sadly disappointed. I don’t think he’s a regular on the Ten news.”

The security guard checked their ID and waved them through.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Leah groaned. “Do you think we’ll see any of the anchor people? I once saw the weatherman at the beach. Boy, is he hot. Oh, my goodness, there he is. I’ll be back.”

Robbie stopped short as Leah departed. In the dim light of the studio wings, she saw broad shoulders in a khaki shirt. Adrenalin pumped through her veins, her breath came in short spurts. There he was. Her very own Crocodile Hunter. How would he greet her? He had to be upset with her. That disappearing act she pulled Sunday morning wasn’t her best moment.

“Ah, Ms. Miller, right on time,” a stage hand called.

At her name, the Crocodile Hunter turned. “Robbie! How wonderful to see you!”

The smile remained plastered on her face, but her heart hit the studio floor. “Nick, it’s good to see you, too.” She glanced around. “You’re here by yourself?” she asked probably too eagerly.

“No, no, of course not. McGraw Tours never travels to the big city alone.” Her spirits soared again only to be dashed when Fran hobbled toward them. Robbie tried to mask her disappointment, but noticed it register on Nick’s face.

“Hi, Robbie,” she called. “Come on. They’re ready for us.”

* * * * *

So that was my fifteen minutes of fame -- and it only lasted ten. It figures. Robbie had prattled on about the wonders of the swamp and the knowledge and hospitality of the McGraw Tours guides, ignoring Nick’s raised eyebrow.

By the time she was through, the viewing audience had to believe her experience was more exciting than canoeing down the uncharted Amazon, surviving attacks by piranha, headhunters and wild boar. No mention was made of the actual guide. It was implied that Nick and Fran had been her escorts. With Fran’s leg hidden from the camera, none of them made any attempt to alter that assumption.

When the director indicated the commercial break, Robbie followed the McGraws off the set. “Thanks for a fantastic review, Robbie. We appreciate it more than we can say. It will go a long way to bring in business.”

“No, I need to thank you. It was a fantastic week, one I’ll never forget.” The look the McGraws exchanged clued her in that Eddie had described her reaction to the trip in less flattering terms.

“I’m glad it was such a memorable experience,” Fran bubbled. She seemed to bubble a lot, must be all those kids. “I was wondering if we could ask you a favor, Robbie.”

At her raised eyebrow, Fran continued. “I’ll get right to the point. I have a job for you.”

Nick put an arm around his wife and gave her a sidelong look.

Robbie laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re that desperate for tour guides. You know, I never did figure out how to light the camp stove.”

“After the review you just gave? You sounded like a pro. Actually, this is more in your line of expertise. Our, um, website crashed today and we need it fixed -- pronto. Can you come up and do it?”

“Fix your website? Sure, I’d be happy to, but I don’t need to go up to…” She stopped herself. Of course, she didn’t have to go to
Georgia
to fix it. She could repair it on-line from her apartment. But her apartment didn’t have a sexy Crocodile Hunter who she needed to see, who she needed to make things right with.

“What I mean is, sure, I’ll come up.”

“Wonderful!” bubbled Fran. “How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Yeah, tomorrow is great.” Robbie had no idea what was on her calendar, but it was gone now. “Friday’s are usually slow,” she lied. Every day was hectic; Friday was the worst. She hesitated. “Will Eddie be around?”

Fran and Nick exchanged glances. Nick shrugged. Fran bit her lower lip.

“Um, I’m afraid Eddie’s in…
Atlanta
at a fishing show. Yeah, he left yesterday and won’t be back till Sunday. Ah, that’s why he couldn’t be here tonight.” Fran brightened. “But thanks so much for coming up tomorrow. Can we do it early? Say nine o’clock?”

At Robbie’s nod, Fran’s smile widened and she squeezed her hand. “You’re a lifesaver.”

* * * * *

Robbie parked her car in the back lot, trying to forget the last time she had been there. Running away had never been her style.

She grabbed her laptop case, averted her eyes from the screened porch -- it wouldn’t do to lose herself in erotic memories when she was meeting the man’s brother and sister-in-law -- and hustled to the front of the building.

The orange morning sun created jigsaw patterns on the pavement through the billowing crape myrtle branches. Amazing how just a few days could raise the temperature in the South.

She wore the clothes Eddie had bought her. She hadn’t put them on since he’d taken them off her but figured why not? Even if he wasn’t there to see her, they made her feel as sexy as hell.

She took a cleansing breath before opening the front door. Maybe it was a blessing Eddie was in
Atlanta
. She hadn’t fully thought out what to say to him. Even though they’d shared a last night in
Paradise
, he might still hold her nasty comments at the lake against her.

“Horde of brats.” That’s the one that took him out. That’s the one she had to grovel for. She brightened. By the time he returned, she’d come up with a plan. She had time to work on the grovel of the century -- provided he was still open to an apology. The thought that he might not be killed her positive mood.

She stepped into the building. The entry way glistened from a fresh coat of lemon wax on the hardwood floors. She inhaled deeply. Nothing smelled cleaner than a fresh coat of lemon wax. They sure kept the place looking pristine.

Robbie ignored the flutter of her heart at the sight of the door at the top of the staircase. She’d had some intense orgasms plastered to the other side of that door. Stepping aside, she made way for a Crocodile Hunter and his band of tourists.

The bell over the office door jangled and another tour guide emerged with a young couple. Peering through the french doors into the office, she saw a dozen tourists milling about the lobby while uniformed guides shuffled paperwork. As each group completed their forms, a guide escorted them from the office.

Friday must be their busy day, too. She searched for Nick and Fran among the khaki uniforms but couldn’t spot them.

“Well, what you doin’ back up here, Miz Robbie? You seein’ that Eddie McGraw again? Sweetheart, you ken do much better en’ him.”

She turned sharply at the sound behind her. “JT! Hi.” A warm smile sprang to her face. She really did like the good ol’ boy.

The handsome hunk clasped her shoulder and squeezed. “How you doin’? You here ta see Eddie?”

“No. He’s not here today. I came to see Nick and Fran.”

“Not here taday? Sure, he is. It’s Nick and Fran who ain’t showed up. Fran had a relapse with her leg, whatever that means. Don’t know how ya git a relapse from a broken leg. Nick’s takin’ care of her.”

“That poor woman…What do you mean Eddie’s here?” She looked into the office but couldn’t see him.

“He called me ‘bout twenty minutes ago, askin’ me ta come on over and help him. Said he had ta leave and there’s no one ta watch the business. Ya can’t miss him.” He inclined his chin. “He’s the only one in thar wearin’ a R-Monty suit.”

She turned as a tall, dark businessman emerged from the walk-in closet carrying a backpack. Dressed in a charcoal gray suit -- unmistakably Armani -- that molded his muscles to perfection, he crossed the room and handed the backpack to a guide. The pristine white of his immaculately pressed shirt contrasted sharply with his deep, bronze tan.

He’d finally made that visit to the barbershop. His hair, neatly trimmed, was slicked straight back, although an errant lock strayed to his forehead. Her stomach cramped and refused to let her legs move.

JT stepped into her line of vision. “Honey, you best close that pretty little mouth afore flies start callin’ it home. Come on, looks like most of them tourists are clearin’ out.”

She followed JT into the office, peering around him, unable to take her eyes from Eddie. He oozed sex and sophistication. Her mouth went dry. She wasn’t ready. She hadn’t figured out what to say. It would have been hard enough talking to Eddie, the Crocodile Hunter, after sneaking out on him, but this new Eddie, his face set in grim lines, his power and authority seeping from every pore, this Eddie would be impossible.

Her sweaty palms refused to hold her laptop any longer. It thudded to the floor. At the sound, Eddie looked up and caught her gaze. His frigid eyes heated as recognition took hold. A myriad of emotions chased across his face. Desire. Incomprehension. Doubt. Until finally, his genial, impersonal tour guide face settled firmly in place.

“What you need me ta do, Eddie? Looks like you got it all under control. Hey, looky who I found” JT stepped aside as the last guide left with his tourists.

“Hey, JT.” Eddie looked away, breaking the spell. “Hello, Robbie. What are you doing here? I thought you never wanted to set foot in a swamp again for the rest of your life.” His tone was soft, unmistakably Southern, but it carried a slight edge. She deserved that.

“Last night, Fran asked me to come up. Said your website crashed. Needed help.” Robbie could hardly concentrate on what she was saying. The heat rising in her at the sight of him made her knees weak and her head fuzzy.

“That so?” JT said, moving to the computer. “Let’s take a look-see.”

While JT clicked on the keyboard, she hovered near the door, unable to make her legs move. Before he’d been a fling. Now there was no doubt. She needed to spend the rest of her life uncovering Eddie’s complex layers. His pseudo-Southern drawl seemed so out of place, spoken by such a sophisticated, urbane gentleman.