The Seduction of Goody Two-Shoes

remember which number-the one about not coveting thy neighbor’s wife. But he felt certain he was okay on that score, too, because the way he understood it, covet meant wanting to have for himself, and the last thing McCall wanted was to have any woman for himself-married or otherwise.

For the past seven years he’d been careful to keep his liaisons with women uncomplicated and hassle-free- “safe sex” being a concept he took very seriously, in more ways than one. And if there was anything he was certain of right now it was that this woman-whether she went by Ellie Lanagan, Mrs. Ken Burnside or Cinnamon, as she would always be to McCall-could complicate his life in ways he hadn’t even thought of yet.

He tossed away his cigarette, but instead of reaching immediately for another, sat very still for a while, listening to the sounds of the night: the singing of insects and of frogs, wind rustling through palm trees, the disconcerting crunching noises Inky was making somewhere in the dark bedroom behind him. The small voice inside him that kept saying, Fool, she’s already complicated your life, don’t you know that?

Oh, yeah. Forget about the perky little breasts, smooth, tan legs, cinnamon freckles, ratchety voice and killer smile. There was still the small fact that, as of this moment, he was guilty of aiding and abetting her in the commission of a felony. What was he going to do about that?

He had until tomorrow to think of something.

From the crossroads town of Tulum, the highway left the coast and angled abruptly inland. Ellie, who’d been dividing her attention between the view from the VW’s windows and the map spread across her lap, rubbernecked so avidly when they passed the marked turnoffs to the Mayan ruins at Coba on the right, and the Punta Allen peninsula on the left, that McCall asked her about it.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, but with a wistful sigh. “I was just wishing-”

“Say the word,” he said roughly. “If you want to change your mind about going through with this-”

“No, no-I’d just like to see the Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve someday, that’s all.”

McCall gave her a quick, hard look. “Not the ruins? That’s where most tourists wind up-unless you’re into reef diving.”

Ellie shrugged. “I’m not much into ruins. It’s the wildlife that interests me-you know, the birds, the animals.”

“Ah,” said McCall. “Of course.” From Ellie’s angle his smile looked wry, and without much humor.

“Well, have you ever been there?”

He threw her a glance. “To the Reserve? Nah-been down the peninsula, though, many times. Diving.”

“What’s it like?”

He gave her the same crooked smile, but it seemed easier, now. She could see the creases at the corner of his eye. “It’s a great place to go if you want to get away from the world. And don’t mind a few inconveniences.”

“Well,” said Ellie dryly, “I can see why you’d love it.” And she was pleased beyond proportion when he laughed.

It didn’t take much encouragement, then, for him to tell her about his travels on the peninsula, and his adventures diving the reefs along the coast there. She listened to him talk, shivering with a strange happiness, marveling at how articulate he was, how comfortable with himself and with words when the subject wasn’t his personal or past life. Questions rushed into her mind like an unexpected gust of wind, leaving her breathless, unsettled, off-balance.

What must he have been in his former life-a lawyer? Teacher? Used-car salesman? CEO? He was good with people, once. He had a wife. Money, too-he said so. What could have happened, to make him give it all up? What was it that brought him here?

For once, wisely, she kept her curiosity to herself, and instead opened her mind and allowed it to wander through the worries and uncertainty she’d been ruthlessly trying-without much luck-to squelch.

Who is this man? Can I really trust him? Just because he has kind eyes, and a kinkajou… Am I out of my mind to be doing this?

At the time, of course, back there in that cantina, she’d felt as though she’d had no choice. She’d been scared, at a loss, and he’d walked in. And later, it had seemed unthinkable to let it all fall through, with the money paid, the arrangements in place…all the months of preparation…to let it all be for nothing. Now…oh, it seemed so clear to her now…she knew that what she should have done was inform General Reyes and let him break the news to the USFWS and let them figure out what to do about it.

She could still do that. It wasn’t too late. I can call the whole thing off.

“You want to call it off?” McCall’s voice rasped across her raw nerves.

She jumped and answered reflexively, “No! I don’t want to call it off.” She saw now that the VW had slowed almost to a crawl, and that he was staring at her, eyes the sharp, cold blue of the October skies back home in Iowa. She felt her stomach fill up with queasiness and butterflies.

“You still can, you know.” And he was himself again, at least the McCall she knew-crusty, crude and cantankerous. “Give up this crazy idea. Go on back home-to Portland or Iowa, what-the-hell-ever. Forget about the damn money-it’s only money, for God’s sake!”

“I can’t call it off. I told you-my husband-”

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, as if what he really wanted to do was break it in half. “You sure your husband would want you doing this? Going into a Mexican jungle to meet up with armed criminals? They are armed, you know-I hope you noticed that. Does he even know-do you know-how dangerous this is? Jeez, what kind of man lets his wife-”

“He trusts me,” Ellie said tightly. “He knows I can handle it.”

“But you can’t handle it, can you?” His voice was suddenly very soft…gentle, almost. “Not alone. Not without me.”

She went utterly still, staring at him. His face looked set, hard as stone. “You promised-” Her lips felt stiff; she licked them and finished hoarsely, “You gave me your word.”

“Yeah…I know.” He said that on an exhalation as he shifted gears. The VW’s engine sputtered and slowly picked up speed.

She waited, nerves strung tight as wire, with a high-tension pulsing inside her head: You promised. You gave me your word. You promised…

It seemed a long time before he spoke again. “We should be coming close to Felipe Carillo. We’ll stop there-fill up the tanks. It’s the last chance for gas, unless we want to detour to Chetumal.” He said that in a disconcertingly normal voice, as if the tense little exchange had never happened. But Ellie had a sense of a crossroads passed…a moment of truth come and gone. Decisions made. Things settled.

It’s going to be all right, she told herself, relaxing a little. Maybe he really is a man of honor.

In any case, for better or worse, she felt certain he wouldn’t try again to talk her out of doing what she had to do.

McCall considered himself a man of his word. He’d promised a crazy woman he’d accompany her into a Yucatan jungle and pose as her husband in a meeting with armed smugglers, and if she insisted on going through with it, by God, he’d be right there with her, keeping his word. That didn’t mean he couldn’t try every way he knew of to keep her from going through with it. Backed up against a wall, all reasonable appeals having failed, he’d come up with a plan. A brilliant plan it was, too, in his opinion; devious but simple. Practically foolproof.

It was late morning when they reached the bustling jungle crossroads town of Felipe Carillo Puerto. It was too early for a full midday meal, but since McCall knew it was going to be a good long way to the next decent restaurant, he suggested they stop for a botana-Mexican for a light snack-of garnachas, which was basically fried masa patties topped with pork and chicken, onions, tomatoes and avocados. After that, on the way out of town they stopped at a gas station where a big hand-lettered sign reminded travelers: Ultimo Gas. While Ellie bought bottled water from a vending machine, McCall topped off the VW’s tanks and to make it look good, checked the oil, hoses and tire pressure.

He was hunkered down and peering into the engine in a businesslike way when Ellie came up to him, holding out a bottle of cold water. He saw her, of course; felt her in his bones, muscles, nerves…in the very pit of his stomach. But he didn’t acknowledge her presence until she said, “Are you sure this car can make it all the way to Chetumal?”

He gave an exaggerated wince. “Ssh-she’ll hear you.” He slammed the engine cover and straightened up,