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"No. I only understand mammals." She shuddered. "Reptiles and bugs are...different. They don't want to communicate with us. All I feel is indifference and...disdain."
"You can't go into the jungle, Catalina. You can't shoot worth a damn. You can't protect yourself."
She frowned at him. "I'll learn."
"You'll be a burden."
"I'll be invaluable as a translator. I want to help."
"Why? I'll be looking for a mate, Caitlyn."
"You said it yourself. Raquel and Coco need a mother. I can help find them one."
He gave her an incredulous look. "You would risk your life to help them?"
"Didn't you?"
He turned his head front. Yes, he'd risked his life to rescue the children. And he'd died. Twice. He was now on his third life out of the nine allotted to his species. But Caitlyn only had one life. He couldn't allow her to risk it. "My decision is final. You're not going."
He could feel the angry glare directed at his face.
"Umph." She settled back in her seat, scrunching down and causing her skirt to hitch up another inch.
He groaned inwardly. That was the main reason she couldn't go. Her presence, her scent, her beautiful body, her heroic spirit and compassionate nature - it would be a constant, relentless torture.
With a twist in his gut he realized she was the perfect woman for him in every way but the only way that really mattered. She'd even be perfect for his adopted children.
He couldn't do it to her. Not if he truly cared about her. And he did care.
He glanced at her and noted one of her fingers tapping against her hand. Her eyes were narrowed. She chewed on her bottom lip. Merda. She was strategizing.
She wasn't giving up.
Chapter Eleven
Caitlyn groaned at the insistent knocking on her bedroom door. She opened one eye to glance at the window. Dim city lights filtered through the sheer curtains, but it was still dark. "Go away," she mumbled and dragged a pillow over her head.
"Caitlyn, wake up!"
She recognized Carlos's voice. Now he wanted to talk? Last night, while they'd eaten their gourmet delivered meals in the kitchen, he'd barely said a word. Two words, to be exact. Good night. Then he'd gone to his bedroom.
The knocking continued. "Come on, Caitlyn. It's almost dawn." The doorknob rattled.
He was trying to come in? Of all the nerve. "I'm up, already!" She fumbled along the top of the bedside table. No lamp. Great. She slid out of bed and squinted her eyes to see. She could barely make out the door frame across the room.
She shuffled around the edge of her bed, then rammed her toes into a box. "Ouch!" She jumped to the side and slammed her shin into the foot-board. "Ouch! Damn!" That was going to leave a bruise. She hadn't finished moving in, and her room was a maze of boxes and suitcases she could hardly see.
"What's wrong?" Carlos demanded from the hallway.
"You," she muttered.
"I heard that. I have super hearing and vision."
"Well, isn't that just super." She swiped her hands along the foot of the bed. Hadn't she left a robe there? "So do you have X-ray vision like Superman? Can you see through the door?"
"No."
She enjoyed taunting him. He deserved it. "What a shame. Since I'm standing here stark naked." She gasped when the door crashed open. Light spilled in from the hallway, surrounding his tall frame. "You pervert!"
He scoffed. "You lied."
"You broke my door!"
"Only the lock. The door still works." He flipped on the light switch close to the door frame.
"Ack!" She covered her eyes from the sudden bright light. "What are you doing here?"
"It's called a job, menina. I believe you've had one of those before?"
"Very funny." She lowered her hand and noticed he was focused on her nightie. More than focused. His eyes were glued to her clingy, silk leopard print nightgown. Since she was a bit on the tall side, the baby-doll top barely skimmed the top of her thighs. No doubt, a hint of her matching leopard print panties was showing. And if the hot gleam in his eyes was any indication, he'd noticed.
Instead of making her angry, it made her feel tingly and seductive. If he was going to choose an unknown were-panther lady over her, he might as well know what he was missing. She flipped her hair over her shoulders. His laserlike gaze didn't budge. "Hello? My face is up here."
His gaze lifted slowly, but hit a snag at her chest. She glanced down to see if she'd fallen out. It happened sometimes when she slept on her side. No, no such luck.
She sighed. What was her problem? She was acting like a cat in heat, and she never did that. She would normally be appalled for a strange man to see her like this.
She scanned the floor for her missing robe. "I thought we were going to start my training in the morning."
"We are."
"Then why did you wake me up? It's still night." And she hadn't slept worth a darn.
She'd replayed the recent revelations about her father a dozen times in her mind. The only way she'd managed to forget her anger with her dad was to think about her plans to accompany Carlos on his trip. Ah, there was the robe. It had fallen off the other side of the bed.
"Sunrise is in fifteen minutes," Carlos explained. "Phineas, Emma, and Angus will be tele - " He stopped with a strangled sound.
She froze, wondering what was wrong. She'd leaned over to pick her robe off the floor. Glancing back, she noted his eyes were wide-open, blazing with heat, and that he was gazing directly at her - Oops. She straightened with a jerk. She'd forgotten how much her French-cut panties exposed. Just the act of leaning over had given her a blasted wedgie. And given him an eyeful.
She slipped on the silk kimono-style robe she'd bought in Hong Kong. It was bright red, just a shade darker than her cheeks, no doubt. "You were saying?"
Amber flecks glittered in his eyes. "They'll be here any minute now, and I'm sure they'd appreciate seeing how eager you are to start your new job."
"Okay. I'll get dressed, then."
He nodded. "I'll meet you in the kitchen. Wear some gym clothes."
Gym clothes? She noticed for the first time that he wasn't wearing the usual khaki pants and polo shirt. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and judo pants, and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. "I thought we were going to practice shooting."
"We'll be doing a lot of things. Fencing, karate, kick-boxing, wrestling. What do you usually do for cardio?"
"I...shop?"
He stared at her with an incredulous look.
"I moved here yesterday. Had to carry all these boxes upstairs. It was quite a workout." She didn't mention that Lara and Olivia had helped her.
His gaze wandered over all the boxes and suitcases. "All this stuff belongs to you?"
"They're my treasures. I always visit local markets whenever I'm in a new country. Or city. Or...village. That's a lot of walking, you know. Very healthy."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Put on some gym clothes. I'll meet you downstairs in five minutes." He turned on his heel and strode away.
She glared at him and shut the door. Men never understood how important her treasures were to her. Not that they were expensive treasures. Some of them had been incredibly cheap. But each one meant something to her, and she took them everywhere with her.
She opened the nearest box and smiled. "Hello, my darlings." Her Russian nesting dolls were cradled in a thick woolen sweater she'd bought in Poland. She'd started collecting matryoshkas as a young girl, so she had over a dozen now. She grabbed two of the wooden dolls and set them on an empty bookshelf. Out of all the bedrooms on the first floor, she'd picked this one because of the two empty bookcases that could hold all her treasures.
Five minutes? She winced, remembering Carlos's demand. That was hardly reasonable. She rushed into the bathroom. No time for a shower. At least she'd taken a bath the night before.
Four minutes later she stood in a lacy bra and panties in front of her open closet, chewing on her bottom lip. Gym clothes? She pushed two evening gowns and three cocktail dresses aside. She'd learned early on at the State Department that she was expected to attend some glamorous functions at the embassies.
Business suits, no. She pushed them to the side. Jeans and T-shirts? She put on a turquoise T-shirt, then moved to the dresser. In her pajama drawer she found a pair of gray boxer shorts. They looked sorta like gym shorts, so she pulled them on and tightened the drawstring around her hips. Carlos had been barefoot, so she'd do that, too.
