Quito, the capital city of Ecuador, was perched almost two miles high in the Andes Mountain range in northwest South America. The bustling city was a striking combination of the sleek, modern world and pockets of the bygone years, quaint old churches, and colonial architecture.

Sitting in the back of the cab on the way to the hotel, Marcus asked, “You’ve never been?”

Tia could only shake her head. “I’ve heard about the Galapagos Islands, of course, Charles Darwin’s whole thing. But I’ve never had occasion to actually come here.”

Marcus chuckled. “For me, this is home away from home.”

“You spend most of your time in Amsterdam running your business?”

“When my work allows me to take some time off, I travel as much as I can. They might as well install revolving doors on the borders.” They shared a little chuckle. “We’ll spend some time here in the city, travel around a bit. You’ll love the rain forest.”

“The Amazon rain forest?”

“Is there any other rain forest?”

Another casual chuckle crackled between them, warm and familiar and reminding both why they were there, and with whom.

They took a room at the lovely Casa Gangotena in the historic city center, the finest and most expensive hotel in the city. Old and elegant, the room was plush with thick drapes over the windows, sumptuous bedding, a crystal chandelier. But it had been a long flight over several time zones and both Tia and Marcus felt like a long, refreshing nap. Waking up just before the dinner hour, they showered and dressed in elegant evening wear which the hotel had pressed and cleaned the hours before.

One of many amazing restaurants in Quito, Zazu offered some of the most colorful, flavorful food Tia had enjoyed in a long time. Though she was used to the finest restaurants and organic foods, nothing in the United States could come close to the freshness of the food. Even the Andean wines seemed more vibrant.

Marcus had the octopus paired with heirloom potatoes and a colourful salsa, which they prepared over an open flame right there at the table. Tia opted for a filet mignon, tender and juicy and perfectly accented with a variety of roasted tropical vegetables.

Tia broke out in a spontaneous little chuckle, but quickly suppressed it, not quickly enough to evade Marcus’s notice, however. Reading his curious expression, Tia waved her hand in front of her face and shook her head. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Everything is something,” Marcus said, his voice suddenly low and cool.

“I was just thinking about our stupid little bet. I mean, if you still wanted to kidnap me, you’d be in a pretty good position to do it: we’re in your home turf, well, home away from home, I’m in a foreign country where I don’t know anybody, you and all your European SPs and shadowy connections. I’d be a sitting duck.”

Marcus smiled gently, taking a sip of wine. “Yes, I suppose you would.”

“And beyond just the bet. If you had some old grudge, maybe you wanted to settle things—”

“Tia, there’s nothing I could or would do to you here that I couldn’t have done in New York without you ever knowing I’d had anything to do with it.” Marcus took her hand in his from across the table and rose it slowly to his lips. “Accept, of course, to kiss you…” He gently kissed the backs of her fingers, sending a quiver running up her arm. “Ravage you,” he added, a sexy growl in his voice, his eyes fixed on hers. “Love and adore you…”

A lump rose in the back of Tia’s throat. She’d spent her life learning to read people, judging clients and service providers alike. And Tia knew then without a doubt that Marcus meant her no real harm. In fact she felt safe with him, safer and more secure than she’d felt since leaving his company a decade before. It had been her sense of independence which had split them apart, but Tia McBride had earned her independence, nobody could doubt.

But Tia had other cravings too, other needs and desires, and Marcus Pike was the key to satisfying them all.

* * *

La Bodequita De Cuba was alive with loud Caribbean rhythms: drums pounding with a metallic clang, cowbells and other percussive instruments cutting through the driving beats. Electric keyboards tapped out the chords in perfectly chaotic sync, trumpet players wailing out a screeching solo that rose above the rest.

The music was hot and sexy, and the feelings it inspired in Tia were a perfect match. The thumping bass drum felt like it was pumping up straight from the dance floor, into Tia’s feet and up her legs, dictating her every movement and motion. Her hips swayed in tempo, seeming to match her heartbeat exactly, like her body was just an extension of the music, or the music an extension of her body.

Tia raised her arms over her head, shaking her curly red hair and letting it fall over her face, her breasts so supple under her silk dress. She knew her hardened nipples were showing through the silk, to Marcus and anybody else, but Tia didn’t care.

She wanted them to see. Tia was feeling bold, strong, finally the woman she’d always hoped to be and worked hard to become. She was a sexy man-eater, a woman every man wanted to possess and every woman wanted to be. She’d risen to a great occasion in her life and was about to be rewarded, but first, a celebration.

And she wasn’t celebrating alone.

Marcus was a fantastic dancer, taking Tia in his arms and swinging her with mastery and confidence. Tia let him spin her out and then pull her back, the restaurant seeming to spin around her and then come to a sudden halt with Tia in Marcus’s embrace, faces close, eyes locked.

The whole restaurant seemed to be watching them as Marcus spun and flung her, the two of them possessing the dance floor, and one another. They had a special connection—everybody in the place could sense it—an animal attraction, a meeting of hearts and minds and souls. The music swelled; their feet clacked against the wooden floorboards. As the rhythm crescendoed, Marcus dipped Tia back, holding her effortlessly as her arm dipped back, languid and lovely, the crowd bursting into spontaneous applause, for their dance as much as for the music—as much for them as for their dance.