Just Trust Me…

curiosity had pushed him to refine it. And after three years of research and experimentation, he was convinced it was ready to be introduced. All it had taken was publishing an article in a scientific journal, and then, like an exponential equation, the news had spread rapidly, mushrooming like a nuclear explosion. And his life hadn’t been the same since.

The upside was that if the formula proved successful and he sold it, he’d be financially set for life. Definitely a huge inducement, especially for a guy living in a cramped apartment in a very untrendy section of Manhattan with another decade worth of student loans to pay. And certainly it would be nice to pay off his parents’ mortgage and treat them to the sort of vacation they deserved.

The downside was that except for his folks and a few close friends, he didn’t know who to trust. People and offers were coming at him from all sides. He was a scientist, not a businessman. He knew squat about negotiating deals and finalizing contracts and all the myriad things that he was suddenly required to know. He needed expert advice and over the past few months had worked on figuring out who he wanted in his camp. What he’d learned during that time was that there were a lot of shallow, greedy people in the world. And unfortunately, it seemed most of them had his phone number.

Most surprising and most hurtful of all, was the realization that Lynda fell into that shallow, greedy category. How, after being together for a year, had he not seen her true character? He’d thought them very compatible, their scientific natures completely in sync. While their relationship might have lacked some physical chemistry, he’d found their shared passion for science quite fulfilling.

He’d learned how wrong he was two months ago at a party thrown by La Fleur Cosmetics in his honor, when he’d found her on her knees, servicing a male model-a discovery which had prompted him to abruptly abandon the festivities. He hadn’t been impressed with the company’s aggressive campaign to lure him their way, and seeing his girlfriend’s lips wrapped around their model’s cock hadn’t endeared them.

He grimaced then swigged his water, suddenly wishing for a beer. Damn. If only he could invent a formula that would erase that visual from his mind. Not that he was heartbroken. No, rather, he’d been totally shocked. And royally pissed-at her for cheating and at himself for not recognizing that she would. And with a pretty-boy model type, no less. That was the last sort of guy he’d ever have expected the very serious Dr. Lynda Maxwell to go for.

But go for him she had. In a big way. Thanks to his failed relationship with Lynda, he’d learned the hard way that dating a work colleague was not a good idea-especially after the romance ended. He’d heard through the grapevine at their laboratory at Scientific Industries that she and the model had recently jetted off to some exotic Caribbean resort. According to Lynda’s own explanation of the attraction, she’d taken one look at the guy and been “hooked up to a nuclear reactor.” Completely unscientific and ridiculous.

But between Lynda and the constant pressure and people and companies trying to woo him, he’d had enough. He needed peace. Quiet. Away from everyone and everything pulling him in so many directions he couldn’t even concentrate on his work. In a place where no one knew him. In a location that would cleanse him, body and soul, of the craziness that had wrapped itself around every facet of his life with a chokehold. A place where he could get back to basics and find inner peace. Somewhere plain and simple. Filled with history and a sense of legend. A step back in time.

There’d been no doubt in his mind where he’d wanted to go. Traveling to Cusco, then hiking from the gateway city to Machu Picchu had been a sojourn he’d wanted to take for years, ever since studying the Inca empire in high school. The Inca people, their society and culture, had fascinated him. Unfortunately college and life had prevented him from making the trip, but the desire to go had remained bubbling in the back of his mind.

And now he hadn’t allowed anything to stop him from taking the journey. Because now it wasn’t just a case of wanting to make the trip-he needed to do so. He’d use this time away to renew himself and reflect and when he returned to New York, he’d be prepared to deal with the future of his formula.

He finished off his bottle of water and was looking around for the waiter to order another when his attention was caught by a woman walking toward him across the plaza. Huge dark glasses and a floppy straw hat obscured most of her face. But it wasn’t her face that riveted his attention. No, it was the sinfully sinuous way she moved- combined with the fact that the sun’s bright rays slanting behind her rendered her gauzy, ankle-length skirt nearly transparent.

Whoa, baby. And what a view it was.

He sat up straighter, mesmerized by how the transparent material outlined her outrageously curvy hips and long, shapely legs. His mouth went dry and he instantly fantasized about what, if anything, she wore beneath her skirt. With every step closer, his temperature notched up another degree. He was surprised she didn’t leave a trail of smoke behind her. His gaze flicked upward, noting a bright turquoise tank top that showed off toned arms and a hint of cleavage. When he’d planned this trip, the last thing on his mind had been women-other than wanting to get away from the ones fawning over him because of his formula.

But one look at smokin’ hot Miss Transparent Skirt sure as hell had women racing to the forefront of his mind. And this woman in particular. Along with the reminder that he hadn’t been with anyone since Lynda. And in a single heartbeat, this woman made him want to banish the phrase hadn’t been with anyone lately from his vocabulary. With an intensity that surprised him. The last time he’d been so instantly smitten with a woman, especially just on the basis of her looks, was…never.

A cloud drifted across the sun, ending his unexpected view. “Damn,” he muttered. He reached into his pocket, intending to toss some centavos on the table to pay for his water then go after her, but he realized she was heading toward the cafe where he sat. Sitting back, he adopted a nonchalant pose and from behind his sunglasses watched her sit down several tables away. Before he could strike up a conversation, however, she reached into her canvas tote bag, withdrew a magazine, and promptly opened it and started reading.

His gaze drifted idly over her reading material and halted. U.S Weekly Review. His favorite magazine, which, along with its like-minded competitor, Newsweek, was the only publication outside the scientific community he religiously read. He took particular note because the issue she held was one which contained a very inspirational article on stress and balancing your life. The article’s catchphrase flashed in his mind: No change, no gain-a bit of advice he’d taken to heart. Advice that had inspired him to finally get off his ass and make this trip.

At that moment, the waiter approached her and she lowered the magazine. Thanks to her huge dark glasses and floppy straw hat, all he could tell was that she had a great smile, one which clearly dazzled the waiter. And, after hearing her order a bottle of water, that she sounded distinctly American.

Now that his brain cells were no longer stupefied by her transparent skirt, he decided she was most likely here with someone, a husband no doubt, although a quick glance at her left hand showed she wore no ring. Okay, so a boyfriend. One who probably had a black belt and was on his way to the cafe right now.

Just then, she looked directly at him-or at least he thought she did. It was hard to tell with those crazy huge sunglasses. And she smiled. Although her transparent skirt was a tough act to follow, that smile did a damn decent job.

Just in case a black-belt boyfriend hovered in the area, he turned his head left then right, then took a peek over his shoulder. As there was no one else around him, he concluded her smile was meant for him, which greatly pleased him, although sort of surprised him. While he’d had his fair share of girlfriends and lovers, he’d never describe himself as a babe magnet. In his experience, not all women found his everyday look of goggles and dingy lab coat sexy. Discounting, of course, the models who’d draped themselves over him at the numerous gatherings recently thrown in his honor by the various cosmetics firms vying for his attention. But then he hadn’t been wearing his goggles or lab coat at those functions. Still, he normally wasn’t the guy hot women flocked to at parties.

Maybe because you never go to parties, his inner voice interjected. When you did, look at all those gorgeous, hot models who’d wanted a piece of you.

Not him, he reminded himself. His formula. A sobering reality check.

But this woman didn’t know anything about his formula. That smile was just for him. And that felt damn good.

He smiled back, and she asked, “Do you speak English?”

Her voice was soft and slightly husky, as if she’d just rolled out of bed. His imagination conjured up an image of her long legs tangled in his sheets, and heat that had nothing to do with the bright sun sizzled through him.

“Only when I want someone to understand what I’m saying,” he said.