Just Trust Me…

“Yeah…for now. After dinner, once we’re settled in our tent, I’ll show you what I’m really hungry for.”

She smiled, but a cloud of doom hovered over her sunny sense of anticipation. Because with each moment spent in his company, with each experience they shared-both sexual and on their hiking adventure-the more she didn’t want her time with Brett to end.

And the more she realized that she had no choice.

14

WITH ALL the hikers seated on sturdy logs set around a large campfire, Brett breathed in the mouthwatering scents wafting up from the plate cradled in his lap.

“For mountain dwellers such as the Incas,” Paolo explained, “meat, served with potatoes, was a mainstay of their diet. But corn was their most important and revered crop. The food Ana has prepared for you exemplifies that of a typical Inca meal. The corn raised in Cusco and around the Sacred Valley was, and still is, called choclo, and was considered the finest in the entire empire, with large, puffy white kernels and a distinctive, sweet taste. Tonight you will enjoy it in the classic style-boiled on the cob and served with a wedge of mountain cheese.”

“The main dish,” he continued, “is called lomo saltado, which is strips of beef mixed with tomatoes, onions and potato chunks served over rice. She has also prepared rocoto relleno-a hot bell pepper stuffed with meat and vegetables. Ana makes the filling mild, but be warned, the pepper itself is quite spicy.”

He smiled then raised his cup. “Tonight we shall drink one of Peru’s most delicious beverages, chicha morada. It is nonalcoholic and the deep purple color is due to the blue corn from which it is made. But before we begin our meal, we shall observe the Peruvian custom of offering a sip of our drink to Pachamama, or Mother Earth, to show thanks for the earth’s generous bounty.” He tipped his cup and spilled just a bit, then raised it to his lips and drank.

Everyone followed his example, and the cool, sweet, drink slid down Brett’s throat. He looked at Kayla, noticed that her eyes were closed as she savored the unusual but tasty flavor. Paolo then picked up his fork, smiled and said, “Enjoy!” and everyone applied themselves to the meal.

Under any circumstances, the food would have been delicious, but after such a strenuous day, capped off by mind-blowing sex-twice-Brett mentally dubbed the meal the Best Damn Food Ever. Everyone made appreciative noises and comments, to which Ana responded by smiling and thanking them.

Conversations broke out about the day’s hike, with everyone adding their impressions and discussing what they’d enjoyed the most.

“The Inca Trail offers a cornucopia for the senses,” Paolo said. “I invite each of you to tell what you liked best based on which of your senses was most engaged.”

Eileen and Ashley chose sight, enthusing over the exquisite orchids, awe-inspiring vistas, and miles of deep- blue sky. Dan, Bill and Shawn chose touch, claiming they’d most admired the ruins at Llaqtapata, being able to run their hands over the centuries-old stones.

Brett considered for a moment, then said, “I’d have to choose smell. I’ve always been interested in scents, studying the ways they affect us. The combination of fragrances here-clean air, forest, sunshine and something else, something indescribable that is unique to this place-makes it smell…peaceful.”

Everyone agreed that a serene atmosphere permeated the trail, and how, in spite of the rigors of hiking in the high altitude, they felt very relaxed.

“My favorite was the sounds,” Kayla said. “The rushing river, the crunch of leaves beneath my feet, the birds singing, the branches rustling. Living in New York City, I never get to hear the sounds of nature.”

While they continued to share favorite moments of the day, Ana offered second helpings and no one refused.

“This is incredible.” Kayla leaned closer to Brett while forking up another bite of the savory beef. “How Ana managed to prepare such a feast in the middle of a forest, without benefit of electricity, boggles my mind. I couldn’t hope to match something like this even with the aid of a professional kitchen and an assistant chef. I think she should have her own cooking show. I’ll do the PR.”

He popped a piece of the smooth, creamy, mountain cheese into his mouth. “You don’t cook?”

She shot him a sideways glance. “Depends. Do you consider smearing cream cheese on a bagel cooking?”

“Depends. Is the bagel toasted?”

She laughed. “You’re probably a good cook, what with knowing about combining chemicals and all.”

“All that gives me is the knowledge to start fires in the kitchen-and, luckily, how to put them out. I’ve learned the hard way that combining chemicals in a lab and ingredients in a kitchen are two very different things.”

“Here’s something I don’t tell everyone,” she said inching closer and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I use my oven as storage space for my bread, cereal and cookies.”

He shot her an exaggerated look of shock. “You mean it has other uses?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. Who needs an oven when you have a microwave and dozens of take-out places within a two-block radius?”

“That’s my philosophy,” he agreed. “What kind of cookies do you keep in your oven?”

“All kinds, because my philosophy is-There’s no such thing as a bad cookie. But my favorites are the hand-dipped double chocolate chunk biscotti from Delriccio’s bakery on the corner near my apartment.”

“Sounds pretty uptown to me, princess. I’m an Oreo man, myself. Although, I’m a sucker for anything dipped in chocolate.”

“Me, too.” Her eyes glittered with mischief and she sent a very pointed look toward his groin. “Which fills me with all sorts of ideas.”

His body’s reaction was swift and immediate and he had to press his lips together to withhold a groan. “I’m going to choke on my mountain cheese if you keep looking at me like that,” he warned in a laughing undertone.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but I wasn’t looking at you. I was looking at your…” she silently mouthed the word cock. “And imagining it covered in chocolate.”

Okay, who the hell tossed him onto the campfire? Heat sizzled straight to his groin. His fingers went lax and he dropped the piece of cheese he held. It landed on his plate with a soft thud, utterly forgotten.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asked in a low, strangled voice.

Before she could answer, Ana stood and asked, “Who wants dessert?”

“I do,” Kayla answered immediately, laughter dancing in her eyes. Everyone else chorused their yeses. The empty dinner plates were cleared away to the sound of many compliments, then Alberto and Miguel offered coffee and tea while Ana served them each a small, individual cake baked in its own ceramic bowl.

“It’s still warm,” Kayla said, wrapping her hands around the bowl.

“And it smells delicious,” Dan said, leaning his face over the bowl and breathing deeply. “Chocolate. My favorite.”

“Mine, too,” Kayla and Brett said in unison. Their gazes met and they both smiled.

“After dinner the first night on the trail,” Paolo said, “it is customary for everyone to share something of themselves, about their lives, with the group. Where you live, your occupation, your hobbies, things of that nature. And most importantly, what drew you to make this journey. It helps to bring you closer to the people with whom you are sharing this wondrous experience. Many times lasting friendships are formed on the Inca Trail.”

He smiled, then continued, “I usually go first so there is no shyness. I was born and raised in Cusco and still live there, very close to the house I grew up in-the house where my younger siblings Alberto, Miguel and Ana still live. Although, they tend to spend very much time at my house.”

“Pretty girls always at your house,” Alberto said with a wide grin, and everyone laughed.

“And handsome men,” Ana added, ignoring the scowls her brothers instantly shot her way.

“I teach history during the school year,” Paolo continued, “and spend my summers guiding tours along the Inca