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“Ola. Onde gostaris de ir?”
Shit. “No habla Portugese.” Wait…was no habla the same in Portugese as it was in Spanish?
The driver turned to face me. “You speak English, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Ok. You tell me where you want to go, understand?”
“Oh. Sorry. Give me a second.” I quickly typed luxury hotels with spa in Rio into Google. The Internet connection was slow, but eventually I began to scroll through hotels looking for a chain I was at least familiar with. My search was interrupted by the cab door opening.
The driver began to shout something in Portuguese. The way his finger was wagging, I assumed he was telling the person that the cab was full. But the passenger didn’t listen. Next thing I knew, I was sitting next to someone in the back seat.
Someone wearing a uniform.
Captain Carter Clynes in the flesh.
He turned to face me with a wicked grin on his face. “My layover just got more interesting.”
Damn. He seemed to have grown that stubble overnight.
“How was your flight, Perky? Did you enjoy the ride I gave you?”
“My shirt’s dry. I think you can drop the Perky.”
His eyes lowered to my breasts. Of course, my nipples were standing at full attention since the sheen of sweat on my skin had met the cool air-conditioning inside the cab.
Carter scrubbed his hands over his face. “Damn. You weren’t kidding about those things. I haven’t slept in eighteen hours, and they just woke me up. I think they’re contagious, and I’m fucking perky now.”
“That’s not really an appropriate thing to say to a woman you just met, you know.”
“We didn’t just meet. This is our third date.”
“Third date?”
“I bought you dinner in an elegant restaurant for our first one and took you up for a plane ride for our second one. Those were damn good dates. Some women would kill for that kind of lavishness. Seems fitting date three we should be heading to a hotel.” He winked.
I wasn’t sure if it was the time change, my being tired from restless sleep on the plane, or if it was possible this man could say anything and I wouldn’t be offended. Why am I not I offended?
When I didn’t respond, he continued. “I’m glad I saw you. Didn’t think I would ever see you again.”
“That might be because you didn’t look for me.”
“I never thought you’d actually take my suggestion and fly to Brazil.”
I mumbled. “Neither did I.”
The cab driver interrupted, looking between us to ask, “You share cab, yes?”
Surprising me, Carter answered. In Portuguese. The language that sounded choppy and frustrating just two minutes ago, suddenly sounded sexy and romantic.
He turned back to me in English. “What hotel are you staying at?”
“I was just trying to figure that out with a little help from Google. Do you have one to recommend?”
“You trust me to pick out where you’ll stay tonight?”
I considered his question for a minute. It was illogical, that much I knew, but I did trust him to pick my hotel. Lord knows why. “I think I do.”
