Love Me Love Me Knot Read online

  Stop. He wasn’t here for that. For her. As soon as this cruise was over and the transition complete, he’d be back in San Antonio. And that was best for everyone.

  Amy slid up behind Sophie wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. She had sunscreen in one hand and a beach towel in the other. “It’s full?”

  Sophie stepped back from the podium, her eyes still glued to the brochure. “It would appear so.”

  Amy placed a hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “Pity. Sorry, Soph.”

  Sophie glanced at Amy and then did a double take. “Why are you dressed in a bathing suit? You can’t wear that on our tour today.” She eyed her friend up and down. Amy’s red bikini with black polka dots beneath a swim cover was clearly not excursion-appropriate.

  “I’m sorry to bail, but I don’t think I can go into a foreign country where I don’t know the language or the culture. It’s poolside for me.”

  Sophie furrowed her brows. “What are you talking about? More people speak English here than they do Spanish. This is tour central. They probably know your culture better than you do.”

  Amy glared at her. “Okay, fine, you caught me. I drank too much last night and all I see are the black dots behind my eye lids. My head is killing me, and I’ll be awful company. All I want to do is lie out and relax. But we’ll catch up tonight before the cocktail party.”

  Sophie eyed the top of the ship. Loud squeals from kids echoed from the Lido Deck. “You’d rather endure that level of torture over a tour today? Was it at least top shelf stuff you drank? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Leave me in my hour of need.”

  “You’ll survive. And you’ll cover more ground without my hair getting in the way. But if you really want someone to go with you take Donovan.”

  “No, he’ll just want to bar hop and shop.”

  “Um, how about Terri and Lori?”

  “Did you seriously just suggest them?”

  “Hire a tour guide.”

  Sophie glared at Amy. “That’s how you end up on an episode of 20/20.”

  Amy shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I’m just offering suggestions.”

  Gobs of people walked by the clearance area where a drug-sniffing dog checked everyone. This didn’t seem like a place they wanted people to gather to decide what to do with their day. Ryan ambled toward Amy and Sophie. “I’ll go,” he said before he could think twice about what he was offering.

  Amy’s eyes met Ryan’s first, a wicked grin splitting her face. “Yeah, take him with you.” She wagged her eyebrows suggestively. “He doesn’t seem as bad as you make him out to be.”

  Ryan wasn’t sure what made him offer to go. It was clear after last night Sophie didn’t want him around. But the idea of her alone in Mexico seemed wrong.

  Sophie turned toward him.

  If looks could kill, he’d be lying dead on the ground. Probably with a jagged dagger in his eye. Not a terrible way to go, Ryan mused. Maybe not the most pleasant, but since he’d returned, he had yet to do one thing to earn her approval. Apparently, saving someone from drowning didn’t count for much these days.

  “No thanks. It’s okay.” Sophie leaned over the excursion desk again, her cheekbones flushed with frustration. “Excuse me, what do you mean book a tour on the main strip?”

  The staff member seemed slightly annoyed now. “That’s where you book excursions. Like I said, I’m just checking people in and telling them where to go.”

  “I’m going to head back,” Amy said. “Good luck. We’ll catch up tonight. Love ya.”

  “You too.” Sophie exchanged a fast cheek kiss with Amy.

  “Hey, Sophie,” a voice called from among a gathering of camera-laden tourists sporting sun hats. Asher Hughes stood below an ATV tour sign watching Sophie with a sordid look. The guy rubbed Ryan the wrong way. “I think I got the last spot.”

  “You have something sticking out of your pants. Oh, I’m sorry, it’s a stick shoved up your—”

  “—And why don’t we find something else to do, Soph,” Ryan offered. “It’s not like there aren’t a ton of other tours to check out, and I hear Señor Frog’s serves incredible drinks.” And the perfect excuse to steer her away from Asher. If Ryan knew anything about grade-A jerks in the journalism industry, it’s that shady ones like Asher are only effective if they get in your head. Ryan had a personal vendetta against guys like that, and he wouldn’t let this guy have that over Sophie.

  Again, if looks could kill. “Then go,” she chided. “I appreciate the offer, honestly. But it’s okay. You don’t have to do that. I’m fine now. Sorry about last night.” She returned to the itinerary.

  Ryan frowned. The way he saw it, she didn’t want to ask for help, but she needed it.

  Not this time, sister. Ryan stepped around the podium forcing her to focus on him. “Let’s go.”

  Her brows narrowed. “What?”

  “Come on.” Ryan took her hand and guided her away from the podium and toward the main road where a city bus would take them to the main strip.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t let him get to you. Trust me.”

  She finally softened. “Look, Ryan, I get it. You’re trying to help, but I can handle this. I have to get on that tour.”

  Ryan pointed to the group of tourists now pulling away in the bright red and blue bus. “That tour?”

  “No!” She threw her hands up and then slammed them on her hips. “That’s just great.”

  “Why would you want to go on a tour with him anyway? I get the feeling he’s a jerk.”

  “You wouldn’t understand. I just need to go off-roading where I can collect some . . . objects. For the girls back at the café.” She shrugged. “I promised them some unusual souvenirs.”

  Ryan recognized a lie when he saw one. Sweat pooled at the back of his neck. Was this about the scavenger hunt? “I’m sure there are other options.”

  “Pssst.” A hoarse voice caught their attention. A man standing off to the side nodded for them to come closer. He stood all of five-foot-seven wearing an oversized wife-beater. An old, dingy bungee cord held his shorts above his hips and the fact that he was slithering among the other tourists spelled trouble with a capital T. “You need to rent ATVs?”

  “No,” Ryan said at the same time Sophie said, “Yes.”

  Sophie flashed a hopeful look his way, but Ryan shook his head.

  “What do you have?” Sophie asked.

  He gestured for them to move away from the tourist-filled pathway. “I haves jus’ the thing,” he said in a rich Hispanic accent. “I am Luis. Follow me.”

  “Sophie,” Ryan warned. She seemed hell-bent on this ATV thing but something about this shifty guy screamed dubious.

  “Ryan,” she answered, mirroring his tone. “I’m just going to look.”

  “You have cash?” Luis asked, leading them along trail leading to an alleyway.

  “How much for an ATV?”

  “No ATV.”

  “What?” Sophie retorted. “I thought you had some for rent.”

  Ryan scanned the immediate area. Following a stranger to a garage off the main walkway in a foreign country was not smart. The guy was about as stout as a green bean, so it wasn’t a mugging that concerned him, but the sleaze ball way he so easily lured Sophie off the main road.

  “Journalism one-oh-one, Soph,” Ryan whispered. “Don’t chase stories where you can be backed against a wall.”

  Sophie creased her brows, shushing him.

  “No, what I have is better. Se maneja muy rapido.”

  “Huh?” Sophie asked.

  Luis, if that was his name, looked a little south of Sophie’s eyes. Ryan slid in next to her. Towering over the ogler suddenly made his gaze turn true north. There we go, big guy.

 
“Um. Fast.” He smiled and nodded. “It goes very fast.”

  He led them inside the garage and pulled a plastic tarp off six brand-spanking new Ducati motorcycles. Ryan’s jaw dropped. These were fully equipped—160 horsepower, 9,500 revolutions per minute, with a sporty suspension setup and decision support system mapping.

  Sophie’s mouth was as wide as Ryan’s eyes. “Wow!”

  At this moment a feather could have knocked Ryan over. These bikes flew rocket fast, clocking in at 200 miles per hour. He used to own a Ducati. It made his commute to work feel like mere seconds. He actually rode this very model when he interviewed Jeff Gordon last spring.

  “No way.” Ryan nudged Sophie, reining her in. “There’s no way these are legit.”

  “Shut it, Dad.” She shot him the slitty eyes of death, which seemed to be her go-to when looking at him.

  Dad? Ryan met her gaze and held it, daring her to walk away. Please let her walk away.

  “How much?” she asked.

  “Uh, two hundred dollars,” Luis answered. “Per hour.”

  The air seemed to deflate from Sophie’s sails. “I don’t have that much.”

  “We can make . . . other arrangements,” he drooled, dropping his eyes again.

  Did I hear that right? Ryan started to step in front of Sophie, but she raised her hand against his chest, halting him.

  “How about fifty bucks for two hours and I don’t kick you in your junk for saying that.”

  Luis laughed nervously and his eyes cut to Ryan. “She for real?”

  “I wouldn’t test her.”

  “Okay.” He smiled, flashing his gold and silver teeth. “You a lucky man.”

  Sophie handed Luis the cash and bounced over to the bikes.

  Ryan sauntered behind. “You know these things are stolen, don’t you?”

  “I just want to do a little sightseeing.”

  “But what about an ATV? A much safer, four-wheeled ATV?”

  Sophie’s exaggerated sigh told him he’d better get with the program or go sip cocktails alone on the ship. Despite their past, something about Sophie drew him. Or maybe it was because of their past. Who knew? Either way he didn’t feel like fighting the urge. What would it hurt to catch up?

  “I’m trying to avoid sightseeing on public transportation and I want something that can move,” she said.

  “Can you handle one of these things? They go incredibly fast. You’ll lose your hair if you’re not careful.” She’d lose a lot more than that if she lost control.

  “Yeah, I rode a little after college. I almost got my class C, but decided against it.”

  “This is not like riding your run-of-the-mill motorcycle.”

  “I know, right?” She approached the Ducati closest to her, running her hand over the slick, leather seat.

  “No, no!” Luis hustled toward them with some form of paper work in his hand. “No señorita drive.”

  Apparently, Sophie hadn’t convinced Luis of her crotch-rocket driving skills.

  “Why not?” Sophie raised her voice. “I can drive.”

  “No,” he said again, a crisp harshness in his voice. He looked at Ryan. “Is too much power for her. She’s a girl.”

  “Excuse me? I know how to ride a motorcycle.”

  Luis tried to hand back Sophie’s money. “No. My sister crashed into the wall and broke her leg.” He jutted his chin toward another motorcycle in the corner. “It no run now. She thought she could handle it, too. And guess what? I’m out eight hundred bucks.”

  Ryan cocked his head. “You paid eight hundred American dollars for each one?”

  Luis bared his gold teeth. “I know a guy.” He turned to Sophie. “Here. You take your money. Go back to the bus.”

  “I guess that’s that,” Ryan said, barely able to contain a twitch at the corner of his lips.

  “Wait! Can he drive?” Sophie reached for Luis’s wrist. She bit her bottom lip, and purred, “Please.”

  Luis eyed Ryan, rubbing his chin with his finger and thumb. “Yeah, that is okay.” He pocketed the cash and walked off.

  Ryan hiked a brow and lowered his voice. “Are you flirting?”

  “Journalism one-oh-one: Use whatever assets you have to get a story . . . or in this case a nice bike.”

  “It’s not just any bike, Sophia. It’s a Ducati. I think they come equipped with their very own souls.”

  “Oh, pulling the ‘Sophia’ card.” She offered an enigmatic smile and mounted the back of the Ducati. “Note to self, don’t call a Ducati a bike.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes, but slid onto the seat in front of her.

  “Put your arms around me, okay? And hold on tightly.”

  Sophie scooted forward so her body was flush with his and wrapped her arms around him, locking her forearms together above his waist. “Like this?”

  He could feel every curve of her body. Ryan swallowed hard. “Yes, but first you need to put this on.” He was not happy with the poor quality helmet, but at least the chinstrap was better than nothing. “Don’t grab the straps on the seat. They will do nothing to help you stay on.”

  “Okay.”

  “When we turn, I need you to lean into the turn, even if you feel like you’re falling. If you fight against the turn, we can crash. Got it?”

  “Yes, can we go already?”

  “And if anything is wrong, I need you to pat my thigh. I may not hear you, so that’s how I’ll know to stop.”

  “Okay, okay, I get it.”

  “So where are we going?”

  Sophie signaled Luis. “Where would you suggest two tourists go to see the best your city has to offer?”

  “Ah.” Luis smiled, his gold teeth glistening. “You go to La Bufadora. Is the most beautiful sight.”

  “La Bufadora?” Ryan asked. “You mean the blowhole?”

  “Si. You will never see a more grandiose place.”

  Ryan could think of more than a dozen sights grander than a blowhole—Taj Mahal, any of the hundreds of Egyptian pyramids, or even the Grand Canyon—but he didn’t respond.

  Sophie tapped Ryan’s thigh. “What do you think?”

  Her touch startled him. Jolted him, actually. “Um.” His voice cracked like a fifteen-year-old boy. She was just following his directions, sarcastically, but he’d take that as a rocky start. He cleared his throat. “Right. It’s true. I’d say it’s worth a trip.”

  “Sounds great. Let’s go.”

  After they signed a few papers and Luis offered vague directions in broken English, Ryan checked Sophie’s grip around his waist. He dropped the throttle, squeezed the clutch, and popped the Ducati into first gear.

  It had been a very long time since anyone’s close proximity quickened his pulse. Hell, it had been too long since any woman had been in this close of proximity. And he hated to admit, the fact Sophie pressed up against him might have something to do with that quickened pulse more than anything. Her breath against his neck only added to his already searing internal temperature. He slowly released the clutch as they glided out of the garage.

  He was uncertain where they stood after all these years. But part of her must still trust him. Why else would she be on the back of this bike holding on to him?

  He’d messed up years ago with that article. He’d own up to that. The article had been motivated by trying to make sense of his own desperate pain. If he had the opportunity now, with ten years of growing up under his belt, he never would have written it. But she had dumped him, and for no reason that he could figure out other than he had poured out his heart and she didn’t like what she saw. Ryan clenched his jaw. Let’s not forget who charred whom.

  Regardless of their past, he was certain of one thing in this moment. He liked her arms wrapped tightly around
his waist more than he cared to admit.

  Chapter 12

  Ryan drove the Ducati slower than a grandma pushing a baby buggy, which, she was pretty sure, went against its creator’s religion. Normally, Sophie would be okay with just taking in the beautiful scenery, but not today.

  Today she needed to kick butt finding the perfect scavenger hunt item.

  During this morning’s meeting, she’d logged on to her email, hopeful to hear back from any of the grant applications. But when she checked, there was nothing, not even a hello from Grandmoo.

  The warm air blew dust into Sophie’s eyes. She rested her head against his shoulder and clamped her eyes shut. The guilty pleasure would remain her little secret. Something she wrapped up tightly and stuck in her back pocket. Because no matter how right he felt, she reminded herself he was very wrong.

  This morning’s scavenger hunt instructions clearly indicated she had to collect a unique item while touring, and the item had to be native to the land but could not be purchased. Unique, creative, and thought to be valuable by the panel, which included a pre-selected group of carefully picked cruise employees. She suddenly felt the time crunch.

  “Can we go a little faster?” Sophie yelled over the hum of the engine.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Ryan turned his head so she could hear him over the wind. “Because there are a slew of people and the driving laws around here are a little less formal than the States.” He paused momentarily. “Do you want to see anything else along the way? I don’t think they have much for off-roading on the beaches here, but we can ask some locals for some trails along the coast if you want.”

  “No,” Sophie said. No use wasting precious hunting time sightseeing. She wouldn’t be able to focus anyway. Not with the pressure to beat Asher, and well, focusing with Ryan around was growing impossible. “Just head to La Bufadora.”