suntan lotion. She was a woman who drew a man’s attention. And his eyes weren’t the only ones focusing on her.
Who the hell was that approaching her? He frowned. The guy looked familiar, and it took him a few minutes to place him. Alejandro Medina? What was that piece of shit doing in Rio? He should be back in Colombia plotting the overthrow of the new democratic government. Only one reason for the guerilla leader to be in Rio and that was money. Drug money or ransom money. Or both. Lots of rich American tourists in town. Had he stumbled onto a kidnapping plot?
Mitch continued to watch as Angelique floated over the swells, chatting with one of the most dangerous men in the tropics, furious that she was indulging in what she probably considered a harmless flirtation. She knew better than to get cozy with the natives. She was in South America, for Christ’s sake; kidnapping was practically a regional sport! Did she think she was safe just because she was a doctor with an aid organization? She was one of the wealthy Americans Medina fed off. He gritted his teeth as his nemesis escorted Angelique to the shore, raised her hand to his lips. If she’d made plans with that animal, he’d damn well see to it that she broke them.
He kept an eye on Medina as the man made his way down the beach, occasionally looking back as Angelique dived back into the water and swam, her strong, steady strokes taking her well offshore. Shit. He had to put in a call to Emilio, warn him that Medina was in town and to keep a tight rein on Marina. He also needed to call his DEA contact. Something was about to go down; he could smell it. But first he had to do something about Angelique.
* * * *
Angelique spent the next three hours lounging in the sun and catching up on her reading. Acosta had departed while she was swimming, and she told herself it was just as well. She didn’t want anything to do with him anyway. If she spent too much time with the snake, he’d find a way to slither into her bed, and she was on vacation, which meant she didn’t have to accept his protection. Besides, it wasn’t like there weren’t other men interested in her. In fact, the chaise next to her had been occupied most of the afternoon by various young, good-looking men trying to engage her in conversation—and God knew what else. She had shooed them away, one by one, letting them know she wasn’t interested in a fling. She’d become more cautious since her time in Africa, and she wasn’t willing to take chances with her life anymore by hopping into bed with perfect strangers. She gave a mental shrug as she left the beach and climbed into the waiting limo. She needed a shower and some quiet time. Just because she wasn’t interested in those other men didn’t mean she had feelings for Mitch Acosta.
Back at the estate she sighed, grateful for the cool after a long day at the beach. She tossed her tote on the table, then skimmed out of her suit and headed for the shower.
She hummed softly, washing her hair and trying to decide what she wanted to do for dinner this evening. Marina and Emilio had been delayed, so perhaps she’d just eat in her room again. She sighed and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her hair before quickly toweling off. Damn, she’d left her moisturizer in her cosmetics bag.
She grabbed the cotton bathrobe hooked on the bathroom door and stepped out, shrieking at the sight of a man relaxing on her bed.
“Jesus, Acosta! How the hell did you get in my room?”
God, that cocky grin just drove her wild. Straight, white teeth, full lips, melty chocolate eyes that sparkled with mischief.
“I’m a guest here, just like you, Angel. You should learn to lock your doors if you don’t want people coming in. Looking for this?” He held the bottle of body lotion. “I’d be happy to rub some on your back for you. Or anywhere else, for that matter.”
Angelique stomped over to the bed and snatched the lotion from his
Who the hell was that approaching her? He frowned. The guy looked familiar, and it took him a few minutes to place him. Alejandro Medina? What was that piece of shit doing in Rio? He should be back in Colombia plotting the overthrow of the new democratic government. Only one reason for the guerilla leader to be in Rio and that was money. Drug money or ransom money. Or both. Lots of rich American tourists in town. Had he stumbled onto a kidnapping plot?
Mitch continued to watch as Angelique floated over the swells, chatting with one of the most dangerous men in the tropics, furious that she was indulging in what she probably considered a harmless flirtation. She knew better than to get cozy with the natives. She was in South America, for Christ’s sake; kidnapping was practically a regional sport! Did she think she was safe just because she was a doctor with an aid organization? She was one of the wealthy Americans Medina fed off. He gritted his teeth as his nemesis escorted Angelique to the shore, raised her hand to his lips. If she’d made plans with that animal, he’d damn well see to it that she broke them.
He kept an eye on Medina as the man made his way down the beach, occasionally looking back as Angelique dived back into the water and swam, her strong, steady strokes taking her well offshore. Shit. He had to put in a call to Emilio, warn him that Medina was in town and to keep a tight rein on Marina. He also needed to call his DEA contact. Something was about to go down; he could smell it. But first he had to do something about Angelique.
* * * *
Angelique spent the next three hours lounging in the sun and catching up on her reading. Acosta had departed while she was swimming, and she told herself it was just as well. She didn’t want anything to do with him anyway. If she spent too much time with the snake, he’d find a way to slither into her bed, and she was on vacation, which meant she didn’t have to accept his protection. Besides, it wasn’t like there weren’t other men interested in her. In fact, the chaise next to her had been occupied most of the afternoon by various young, good-looking men trying to engage her in conversation—and God knew what else. She had shooed them away, one by one, letting them know she wasn’t interested in a fling. She’d become more cautious since her time in Africa, and she wasn’t willing to take chances with her life anymore by hopping into bed with perfect strangers. She gave a mental shrug as she left the beach and climbed into the waiting limo. She needed a shower and some quiet time. Just because she wasn’t interested in those other men didn’t mean she had feelings for Mitch Acosta.
Back at the estate she sighed, grateful for the cool after a long day at the beach. She tossed her tote on the table, then skimmed out of her suit and headed for the shower.
She hummed softly, washing her hair and trying to decide what she wanted to do for dinner this evening. Marina and Emilio had been delayed, so perhaps she’d just eat in her room again. She sighed and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her hair before quickly toweling off. Damn, she’d left her moisturizer in her cosmetics bag.
She grabbed the cotton bathrobe hooked on the bathroom door and stepped out, shrieking at the sight of a man relaxing on her bed.
“Jesus, Acosta! How the hell did you get in my room?”
God, that cocky grin just drove her wild. Straight, white teeth, full lips, melty chocolate eyes that sparkled with mischief.
“I’m a guest here, just like you, Angel. You should learn to lock your doors if you don’t want people coming in. Looking for this?” He held the bottle of body lotion. “I’d be happy to rub some on your back for you. Or anywhere else, for that matter.”
Angelique stomped over to the bed and snatched the lotion from his
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