Love In The Jungle Read online

  “And dancing around questions, it seems.”

  He exhaled softly, looking rather attractive if not somewhat flustered.

  “I’m an engineer,” he said, and suddenly the fancy clothes and pricey laptop and leather notebook made sense. “I travel a lot for work.”

  “Bet that’s nice,” I chuckled. “I wish my work paid me to fly to exotic places.”

  Though I could never be an engineer. From my university days, I remember their crazy workload and chaotic schedule. PR was hard work, but it was nothing compared to the stress my few engineering friends endured.

  “And what’s work for you?”

  There was no way I was telling a successful engineer that I’d been fired for not following instructions. “Public relations mostly.”

  “Ah.” He seemed neither impressed or put out; instead he started packing up his laptop. “I don’t think I could do PR work… People are so frustrating.”

  I let out a short laugh, thrilled with his reasoning. People are frustrating. “You can say that again.”

  “I don’t want to be presumptuous,” he said as he started to stand, still packing his things away, “but would you care to accompany me to the gate? I think they’ll start boarding soon.”

  “Why sir,” I chuckled, thrown by the formality of his request. “I’d be delighted.”

  I didn’t have much to put away, but I did chug the remainder of my coffee and stuff the rest of the pastry in my mouth. After disposing of the trash, I threw my backpack on and strolled beside him out of the café. I felt small beside him, which was a rarity.

  I had always been at that height where I wasn’t exactly tall, but I still towered over all my friends who were of “average” height. I hadn’t worn heels on a date in years, worried that I’d breach the six foot marker even though I was still a few inches under. Grant was a head taller than me, obviously in the six foot plus range, and now that we were next to each other, I noted that he wasn’t huge—broad was a good word, I guess, but there was a sleekness to him that I liked.

  It must have been the fancy clothes. I had dressed for comfort, and looked like a total slob next to him. I wore my old university sweatpants and a plain crew-neck t-shirt. I had a sweater rolled up at the bottom of my backpack, as planes tended to get cold, and I’d chosen an old pair of sneakers to bring with me—no need for high-end shoes where I was headed.

  We kept our conversation light as we strolled to the gate, commenting on the airport’s shopping venues and the way people rushed to and fro. Once we’d reached our destination, he pointed to the sign.

  “Business class can board now, apparently,” he noted, nodding a bit. “I hope you don’t mind if I…”

  He trailed off and pointed a thumb toward the attendants manning the entryway. Of course he was flying business class. Smiling, I shook my head and tucked some hair behind my ear. “Not at all.”

  “It’s nice to have met you…” He extended his hand to me again, and he seemed to be struggling to recall my name. Just as I was about to help him out, a sarcastic, snippy tone on the tip of my tongue, he said, very softly, almost appreciatively, “Clara.”

  I took a deep breath, willing away the color in my cheeks, then grabbed his hand. “You too.”

  We both held on a little longer than necessary—anyone watching us could see it. I pulled back first, my palm tingling again, and nodded to the gate. “Hope you enjoy your fancy meals and your cushy seats.”

  “They’re not much cushier, I promise.” He almost seemed embarrassed to admit it, which was kind of endearing. My eyebrows shot up, and I let out a snort.

  “Uh huh,” Like I’d ever believe a business class seat wasn’t better than an economy class one. I mean, why would people pay thousands of dollars more to sit in seats that weren’t any better?

  We held one another’s gaze briefly as a woman’s voice called for all business class passengers to check in. I nodded toward the gate once more.

  “See you on the other side, maybe,” I offered, giving him my most genuine smile.

  “Yeah.” He nodded, lingering still, until he seemed to work up the resolve to pivot on his feet—which were wrapped in shiny, polished black shoes—and make his way toward the counter. I waited, and then waved when he turned back on the other side of the gate to smile at me.

  Once he was gone, my heart rate finally slowed. I sought out an uncomfortable blue chair with the rest of the commoners, waiting my turn to board, all the while knowing there was a very small chance of seeing him again, on the other side or otherwise.

  Chapter Five

  You know, if anyone had ever told me that my plane wouldn’t be flying because of an engine failure, I would have been relieved. But here I was, stuck in a small airport hotel in Accra overnight, twiddling my thumbs until it was time to go.

  The flight from home to Ghana had been calm, cool, and collected. Sure, there were a few crying babies here and there. Yes, the food hadn’t been great, but then again, when was airplane food ever supposed to be good? I watched a lot of movies, dozed for a good four hours, and tried not to touch elbows with the guy sitting next to me, who’d been keen on territorial expansion between our two seats. I had a bunch of books to read, but the cabin pressure gave me a constant headache, making it downright impossible to focus on any words. I probably should have expected that, considering I can’t read any of the buses, trains, or cars. All in all, it was an uneventful flight.

  I was able to easily grab my bag off of the carousel, and head to the custom counter. . The airport had been littered with travelers from all over the world—but not once had I seen Grant anywhere. As I’d predicted, our chance encounter before the flight was probably the last I’d ever see of him.

  It wasn’t until I’d reached the section of the airport where I needed to catch my connecting flight to Togo that I knew I’d be delayed—again. Apparently, the small aircraft had been experiencing engine problems since it landed after its previous flight. For safety, I’d been told my flight had been cancelled tonight. Pushed to tomorrow at noon, I was now stranded in a strange city, one Grant had called beautiful, with no idea where to go or what to do.

  Luckily I hadn’t needed to panic for long. The counter attendant handed me over a stipend and a pass to use at a hotel nearby that housed passengers from delayed and cancelled flights on a temporary basis.

  I didn’t want to just sit around in a hotel room. I wanted to see and do things—I wanted to be an adventurous traveler.

  Unfortunately, the cab ride had been expensive and a little dangerous, which sort of dampened my yearning to try new things. Sure, the driver might have felt at ease whizzing through traffic, but I got to the hotel wanting to vomit on the back of his seat. Even though I’d come over here to find myself, I’d spent almost a full half-hour in the shower, then slept most of the afternoon away.

  Here I was, jetlagged and bored. I still had books to read, a lot of them, more than six months’ worth. So, really, I could have spent the night wrapped up in a good book.

  “But where was the fun in that?” I said to myself.

  Even though it was still a little sunny when I locked my room and wandered down to the main floor, I wasn’t feeling brave enough to peruse a new city on my on at night. I mean, I was about to spend six months being adventurous; my restless spirit could wait another night before throwing itself out there.

  Despite being an airport hotel, I actually liked the place. All the employees were friendly, and the hostess at the small restaurant recommended trying the bar food over the dining room, whispering that the better cook was in the bar section tonight when I arched an eyebrow at her. Nodding, I took her not-so-subtle hint and made my way to the bar. Located at the back of the hotel, it overlooked a grassy ravine, with some tables and chairs outside on a small balcony. It wasn’t anything special in a decorative sense. In fact, as I settled atop a barstool and grabbed a small menu nearby, I couldn’t help but think it looked like a bar you might find in an actua
l airport: franchised, without any special touches, and a little sterile.

  Not that it mattered. My growling stomach wanted something greasy and fatty, and I could do with a beer or two after the day—night?—I’d just had in the air and on the ground.

  After I’d decided on a burger and a plate of spinach dip, plus a local beer, I closed my menu and set it aside. The bartender was busy with two couples at the other end of the long wooden counter. Based on the faint conversation I heard over the music and the various TVs placed strategically around the bar, I guessed that they were British tourists.

  I wonder where they were headed. I’d been told that I wouldn’t be the only one traveling to Togo as a part of the volunteer effort, but when I was at the airport, I didn’t take the time to look for my fellow out-of-sorts volunteers. I should have. We could have gotten to know each other at the hotel.

  Drumming my fingers on the dark wood paneling, I nibbled my lower lip, wishing I’d brought my book with me. I’d look like more of loner reading a book at a bar, but at least it’d be a distraction while I waited for my food. I wasn’t a sociable person; I had a decent group of friends and could easily talk to strangers. But I was out of my element here. With nothing familiar to grasp onto and no one making the first move, I felt uneasy approaching a stranger and starting up a conversation with them.

  I must have been nervous, having worked retail and PR for most of my adult life, striking up a conversation with a stranger should have been easy.

  I’ll blame it on the jetlag.

  Once he was finished taking care of the older British group, the bartender made his way over to me and I was able to place my order.

  “Would you like it delivered to your room?”

  I shook my head, patting the countertop. “No, I think I’ll sit down here.”

  He nodded and disappeared without another word, just as I drew a breath to start some friendly banter. Damn.

  “Well, isn’t this a small world?”

  I nearly fell off my chair when Grant climbed on to the barstool next to mine, a grin spread wide across his handsome face. He looked even fresher than I did, and my hair was still wet from the shower. Clean-shaven, his hair tousled just right, he looked like he belonged more in a fashion shoot than a sad airport hotel bar.

  “No kidding,” I chuckled, turning on the spot to face him. “It is a small world.”

  “Please don’t sing the song,” he joked. He then ordered a beer, raising his hand to catch the bartender’s gaze, and then turned his attention back to me. “So, how was the flight with the common people? Riveting?”

  “Ha ha,” I groaned, making sure he saw me roll of eyes. “It was beyond riveting, I’ll have you know.”

  His eyebrows shot up, “That good, huh?”

  “Better than you can possibly imagine.”

  When the bartender delivered our drinks, I snatched mine and took a big gulp. With my insides dancing and my heart racing, I had to wonder if Grant made every girl feel like she was having a stroke? I was so thrilled to see him that I didn’t even bother to ask why he was at this hotel in particular. After all, don’t engineers make heaps of money? Engineers who fly business class probably stay at five-star hotels in the city—not airport hotels surrounded by roadways and nothingness.

  As we grabbed our drinks and headed for a table, I decided that it wasn’t the fact that I saw Grant specifically that made me so happy. For some reason, he felt like a piece of home. He was the familiar face I wanted.

  “Do you mind if I join you for dinner?” he asked once a bus boy dropped off a menu for him. “My flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow, and I know for a fact that they make excellent nachos.”

  Tomorrow, huh? That’s two coincidences for us. I couldn’t help but wonder if there might be more. “Where are you headed?”

  “Oh, here, there, everywhere,” he told me with a slight wave of his hand and a chuckle. “Work never stops.”

  I wasn’t offended that he wouldn’t give me specifics. I mean, it made sense. Aside from our brief conversation at that café, we were absolute strangers. I could learn a thing or two from him about not divulging my life’s story to strangers while in a foreign country.

  “Well, same here,” I said after downing the rest of my beer. Wow where had all the beer gone? These glasses were freakishly small, but he still seemed impressed that I’d managed to guzzle it down. Oh yeah, I’m a real classy lady, friend. “And I’d be happy for some company… I ordered the burger.”

  “Also spectacular,” he admitted. “I love eating here. People don’t give it enough credit.”

  I studied him for a moment, wanting to tell him that that was a nice thing to say. However, before I could get the words out, my spinach dip had arrived, along with a bowl of fresh bread to use for dipping. I noticed Grant eyeing the arrival, his menu grasped in his large hands, and I pushed the bread bowl toward him.

  “Dig in, cowboy,” I laughed. “We can always order more…”

  “You’re too kind.” I could hear the teasing in his voice as he reached for the bread, and I tugged the bowl back quickly. My eyebrow arched at him, and he cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

  “Much better.” I wasn’t sure where my confidence had come from, but I was glad it had finally reappeared. After the bartender dropped off my second beer, I broke a piece of bread in half and dunked it in the green dip.

  “Delicious,” Grant said, wiping his dirtied fingers on a napkin. “Good choice, m’lady.”

  “Thanks,” I remarked, smiling again at the pet name. “Now, Mr. Fancy Engineer… Tell me all about business class. I need to know what I missed.”

  Chapter Six

  “So here it is,” Grant said dramatically, throwing the door to his room open and bowing low. “The piece de resistance.”

  I poked my head in, arms crossed, and nodded. “Wow.”

  “Isn’t she something?”

  “Yeah,” I laughed, leaning into him when he straightened up and placed his hand on my lower back—it had been there since we left the bar. “It looks exactly like my room.”

  “I’ve been told that before,” he murmured, saying the words, his voice low and husky, in my ear. My skin prickled with excitement. I wasn’t sure how we’d gone from discussing the pros and cons of flying with private seats (cue Grant’s endless stories about all the amazing airlines he’d flown with) to touching and giggling and whispering on the way to his room, but here we were.

  I definitely wasn’t going to complain. I wasn’t drunk; we’d spent a few hours chatting, and the effects of the few beers I guzzled when he first arrived had faded. I was left instead with a tingly feeling in my hands, a full feeling in my stomach, and a deliriously giddy feeling in my head. I’d never had someone as handsome as Grant, with his bright eyes and the effortless way he carried himself, focus his attention on me and me alone for so long.

  I knew, in part, it was because we were two almost acquaintances in a strange place who had a small spark of connection. I bet if I’d chatted with anyone else and the conversation had been amicable and they were sitting at the bar, I would have sat with them for dinner too.

  But there was something about him… something that made me nervous, but in the best way possible. Maybe that same thing encouraged me to shift my chair closer, to not flinch back when our legs accidentally brushed against one another under the table.

  I guess that “thing” also helped me find the courage to step into his room. As I crossed the threshold, I let out the small breath I’d been holding, trying my best to keep up the game we’d set in motion hours ago.

  “As you can see,” Grant continued as he shut the door behind us. He didn’t lock it, perhaps for my benefit. I could appreciate that. “There is a lovely double bed… roomy without being obnoxious. A stellar bathroom with all the necessary amenities…”

  I peered into the bathroom, which was to the immediate right as soon as I stepped into the suite. Exactly like my room, his countertop was t
he same faux-marble vanilla. Unlike my room, however, the space wasn’t littered with toiletries. No, there was a single unopened black bag tucked neatly in the corner, and I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d find inside.

  “It truly is a spectacular sight,” I noted, putting on my snootiest accent. He chuckled as I stepped away from the bathroom, his hands suddenly falling to my hips. Both hands, both large… warm hands. His fingers curved around me, and I couldn’t help but stare. There was a brief pause in our game, as if he was asking me if this was acceptable, and I responded by leaning back against him again.

  Standing so close, back to chest, I realized I’d almost forgotten how tall he was. I tilted my head back, my eyes wandering from his bright blues to his slim, kissable lips. Like every other part of him, they were beyond attractive. I licked mine instinctively, drawing in a tentative breath. He mirrored me exactly, but as I eased my face toward his, he raised his arm and pointed to the window.

  “Have you seen the view?”

  I arched my back as his other arm slid around my snuggly, pulling me back against his hard body—it was obvious where this game was headed.

  “I like this view,” I murmured. While bright and blue as ever, it was like his gaze had darkened with desire, with need. I also felt both of those in the way his hips pressed up against my backside, a telltale sign of lust from him igniting something in me.

  “Me too.”

  His words were cut off, muffled, as I tilted my head back and pressed my lips to his. The time for games was over. The time for polite niceties about our travel plans could wait. All I knew was that I wanted him, right here and now, and I wasn’t going to leave until that happened. He responded in kind, hoisting me up once I’d turned in his arms, my hands cupping his face.

  There was no hesitation from either of us. I realized I was trembling a little, but with anticipation, with want. Grant set me down on his bed, just as squishy and well-used as mine was, and I clung to the front of his shirt as I lay back, dragging him down with me.