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Lee was behind the wheel. He gave a brief nod in greeting.
“Do you like curry?” Tim took the seat next to her in the back.
Was he kidding? She grew up in Cape Town. Curry was her staple diet. “Love it.”
“Good.” He patted Lee on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
They drove to the village and parked in front of a small wooden building with a thatch roof. There was no name or sign, but judging by the three small tables inside, she assumed it was a restaurant. Through a door that led to a kitchen, she saw a woman bent over a chopping board, working the large chopping knife in her hand swiftly. A man with a red bandana tied around his head stepped out of the kitchen with a broad smile.
“Tim!” He crossed the floor, grabbed Tim’s hand, and slapped him on the back. “It’s good to see you, man.” He nodded at the bodyguard. “Lee.” He turned his gaze to Maya. Taking her hand between both of his, he gave a firm squeeze. “And who is the beauty?”
“Maya,” she said, “nice to meet you…”
“Carlos. You’re always welcome.” He lifted his hand to indicate a deck on the beach. “My best table for you.”
There were two tables outside, but once they were seated, Carlos removed one so that they had the deck all to themselves. Lee didn’t join them, but sat down at a table inside.
“Carlos’s wife, Lidia, makes the best curry in Costa Rica. There’s no menu,” Tim explained. “It depends on the catch of the day.”
“Can’t wait.”
She studied Tim. He was dressed in butt-hugging jeans and a white linen shirt that exposed just enough of his perfectly sculptured chest to make her crave more. He looked hotter than any mouth-watering curry, hands-down fifteen million units on the Scoville scale. Atomic. There was also an unmistakable tenseness in the set of his body and the way he regarded her.
Could she get him to open up to her, to tell her about what really occupied his time when he wasn’t out screwing girls or manipulating businessmen into making investments?
“You seem preoccupied,” she said, covering his hand with hers. The concern in her voice wasn’t all acting. “Politics stressing you out?”
He opened his mouth, but shut it again when the waitress stopped next to their table. Maya turned her head to look at the girl and inaudibly caught her breath. It was the pretty girl from Mango, the one Tim had slept with.
The girl shook out her glossy curls and smiled. “I’m Gabriela, your waitress. What can I get you to drink?”
Maya’s attention went back to Tim. She searched for his reaction, but he merely glanced at Gabriela before once more fixing his penetrating stare on Maya. “What would you like, baby girl?”
She looked up at Gabriela. There was no jealousy, no sparks, no cattiness, nothing in the other woman’s expression to hint at the fact that she’d shared a passionate night with Tim.
“What do you have?” Maya asked.
“Wine, soft drinks, freshly squeezed juice, and mineral water.”
“May I recommend the pineapple juice?” Tim said. “It’s delicious.”
She couldn’t drink alcohol for at least twenty-four hours before a dive, but she didn’t have any diving scheduled for the following day. “I’d like a glass of wine, please.”
He reached for her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “Alcohol right now isn’t a good idea. Trust me.”
The statement puzzled Maya, but she decided to let it go. She wanted to focus on Gabriela.
“I’ll be right back,” Gabriela said to Tim, shooting him a lively smile, but there was nothing private in it. It was just a smile a waitress would give to a customer.
She needed to speak to Gabriela alone, away from Tim and Lee’s ears and eyes.
“Maya,” Tim said, drawing her attention back to him, “I’d like you to come with me to the Ambassador’s gala dinner in San José. It’s a boring affair, but I’d love for you to be there. It’ll make the evening more bearable, and it’s for a good cause.”
It was to raise funds for children’s welfare organizations. Tim hosted it annually, sponsoring the event. All of his most influential and wealthy business associates would be present. The gala dinner was a good opportunity to observe Tim with his business contacts, to see if there were any possible links to his criminal operations, not to mention the pleasure she’d be getting from figuratively kicking Frida’s lilywhite ass.
“I’d love to.”
He let out a small breath he was holding, as if he was worried she’d say no. “I’ll get Frida to send you an invitation so you know what to expect. It’s in two weeks. I’ll collect you on the Saturday morning. We can drive together.”
“No need. I’ll meet you there. I have shopping to take care of in San José.”
“I said I’d take you. We’ll go shopping together.”
