Chapter 1 Canaima Landing #3
"Please do not attempt to touch the macaws," he says, his accent lilted. "They look friendly." A pause. "This is a misunderstanding."
From somewhere behind me, Ryan makes a sound of sincere approval.
Erica is already writing something down on the notes app on her phone.
Andrew puts his hands in his pockets and looks at the macaws with the expression of a man who very much wants to touch them and is making the responsible choice.
Once everyone has filed onto the dock, Mateo turns to us all and says loudly, "Welcome to Canaima."
A thrill of unexpected excitement runs through me.
The rest of the afternoon passes by in a blur of checking in, finding rooms, taking notes, drinking fancy wine, and admiring the lagoon.
When dinner time rolls around, I find myself absolutely famished. We have a private room with a long table to seat the entire Adler leadership team. There are familiar faces and some not-so-familiar faces.
Andrew tells a story, and then another, and everyone within earshot leans toward him like he's a fire and they need to warm themselves.
Ryan has his map out and is happily chatting with two new faces representing the new French Riviera acquisition.
Santiago Reyes is sitting three seats away next to Derrick, who is listening to Riley chatter with a lovesick expression that I pray I can capture for my story.
I've ended up next to Erica again. "So," she says quietly and pointedly. "I haven't met that guy next to Derrick yet. Do you know him?"
I glance across the table. "Oh, that's Santiago. Santi, for short."
Erica sips her drink. "You guys know each other?"
I shrug one shoulder. "We cross paths every now and then in Manhattan. He's corporate development, and I'm financial strategy. But we've only butted heads once... why are you looking at me like that?"
Erica's smirk is unmistakable. "I think you should be asking why he is looking at you like that."
I frown and look across the table to where Santi is sitting. I hadn't noticed it before, but he's looking directly at me. And his expression is... intense, to say the least. This is not the polite eye contact of a colleague checking in. This is... something else.
Santi is a very attractive man; I've always thought so. He has smooth, dark hair and eyes blacker than night. Those eyes are hooded now, calculating. Watching. Glittering with something dark and dangerous. A prickle of awareness runs across my scalp and down my spine.
Then he looks down at his plate.
I look back at Erica, my mouth dry.
She wipes away her grin with her napkin. "So, in chapter six," she says. "I'm thinking the anaconda turns out to be Ryan in disguise, which I think has real thematic potential—"
I eat my dinner and avoid looking across at Santi again. But a couple of times, I'm certain I can feel the heat of his stare again.
***
Santi
Nora is deep in conversation with Erica Sloan, leaning forward, her hands moving animatedly when she talks. The candlelight casts interesting shadows across her features. She looks radiant.
I want her to look at me again.
For eighteen months, I have been meticulous.
Careful. Always looking away the instant she might notice, always keeping exactly enough professional distance to maintain the fiction that I am simply a colleague who occasionally shares meeting rooms with her.
In this one specific area, I have been very controlled.
And tonight, in the dark, with the waterfalls going outside and the jungle pressing in around the lantern light and something in the Canaima air that is getting into me whether I want it to or not, I look at her, and I do not stop. Even when she is about to look up at me.
I let her see me watching.
Her eyes widen slightly, her lips part in surprise. I hold her stare for four long seconds, pouring all of my desire and hope into that one moment. Then I drop my gaze, reveling in the heat that washes through me. The thrill of being noticed by her.
Mateo stands at the head of the table and clears his throat once, just enough to settle the conversation.
"Tomorrow is a rest morning and lagoon orientation," he says.
"Day Two, we begin the trail program. I have divided the group.
" He consults the list in front of him, but I don't hear anything except that Nora and I will be in the same group for the week.
I don't turn to look at Nora, but I am certain she glances at me when Mateo says our names together.
She's wondering about me now, I'm certain. For the first time, she's noticing me.
I reach for my water and take a sip.
I'm going to be spending the week with Nora Valdez. Not across a conference table. Not four rows ahead of me on a floatplane. Not from a careful, professional distance maintained for eighteen months.
Next to her.
I set my water down.
The jungle outside the lantern light is complete: the falls in the dark, the warm, ancient air coming in through every open wall, and the sound of a large, unbothered creature moving in the high canopy above the lodge.
The jungle, I am beginning to understand, has its own agenda.
And apparently, so do I.