Man of Passion (23 page)

Rafe
eased his mouth from hers. He tasted the salt of her tears upon his lips. Gently smoothing the tendrils of hair around her face, he tried to smile and failed. "Once the orchid begins to die, press it for me? And when you want, bring it back to me. I'll be here, waiting for it…and you…."

Ari cried off and on throughout the flight back to the
United States
. When Condor Airlines landed at
JFK
International
Airport
, she walked as if she had a million pounds of fear upon her shoulders. When she realized she was becoming like her old self again, her shoulders rounded, her head hanging down, she gave herself a good talking to. After
Rafe
had given her the orchid, she'd attached the spray to her hair, and every so often she would touch it to ensure that it was still in place. Touching it was almost like having
Rafe
beside her.

After she made her way through Customs, and then out into the airy terminal packed with thousands of human beings like bees coming and going from their hive, Ari retrieved her luggage. Weighted down, she glumly walked outside. Night had fallen and in the distance she could see the brightly lit skyline of
Manhattan
. This was her destiny. Grimly she flung back her shoulders and forced herself to lift her chin. If Inca saw her so down, she'd pounce on her like a jaguar and give her a chastising she'd not soon forget.

Making her step more confident, Ari sought out a cabbie and got into his bright yellow vehicle. Her plans for
New York
had been made before she'd left for
Brazil
. She'd done her homework on which hotel she wanted to stay in. The Sun-flower Hotel was located in the heart of
New York
, near where most publishers had offices.

Tiredness ate at her. The flight had been long and exhausting. She wished to be home, with
Rafe
, at the houseboat. Already she missed him so much. Ari had relied on his levelheaded maturity. He'd been a wonderful and patient teacher. And how she'd grown beneath his nurturing!

Rubbing her chest, her heart aching without respite, Ari forced herself to think ahead. Once she got to the hotel at
42nd Street
and
Lexington
, she would have to call her father and let him know she was back. Her stomach clenched. What would he say?

"Ari!
You're back. Thank God."

Ari stood over the phone next to her bed in the hotel. Her heart was beating with fear. "Hi, Father. How are you?"

"I'm fine.
But you?
Where are you calling from? Are you at your
Georgetown
condo?"

Her heart fell. Her fingers wrapped spasmodically around the phone. "No…I'm not. I'm in
New York City
. Remember? I told you that after I got the drawings completed, and the text, I was going to try and sell the book?"

"You're where?"

She closed her eyes and sat down on the edge of the queen-size bed. He hadn't changed one whit in three months. And Ari felt like she was a new person, in comparison to him. "Father, nothing has changed. I'm staying in
New York
until I can sell my book."

"Don't tell me you managed to actually draw orchids?" She heard the sarcasm in his deep voice.

At first Ari was crushed. And then anger flared inside her. She remembered what Inca had said about people who wanted to
disempower
her; that it was up to her to first recognize it, then stop it, and keep her own truth at the center of her heart. Moving the phone from her right hand to her left, she allowed the anger to be heard in her voice. The old Ari would have been cowed and spoken in a soft, apologetic tone. She didn't do that now.

"Father, it's obvious you don't think I'm capable of doing anything on my own. I may not have my mother's talent, but I can draw orchids pretty well. Anyway, an editor will determine that, not you or me."

"Don't you get snotty with me, young lady—
"

"I'm not being snotty. I'm being honest. You're not taking away from me what I've done," she said, her voice wobbling with anger.

"What the hell has gotten into you, Ari? Who do you think you're talking to? I'm footing all your damn bills for this little escapade. The least you owe me is respect, not anger."

Shaking now, the adrenaline flooding through her, Ari sat with her right fist clenched on her lap. "That's another thing I was going to talk to you about, Father. I'm staying here in
New York
and I'll get a job. I don't care if it's a menial job or not. I'm staying in this city, making the rounds, knocking on doors until I get this book sold."

"
Dammit
, Ari!
Has going down to
Brazil
made you crazy?"

Tears jammed her eyes. She scrunched them shut and forced the tears back. This was not a time to cry. Her father always took her tears as a sign of weakness. But right now, she felt scared and overwhelmed. Recalling how many times
Rafe
had placed himself in real danger for others fueled her. Ari had a mission to accomplish for her mother. She saw her father as an enemy trying to stop her. "Yes, it's made me crazy! I've finally gotten out from beneath your thumb, Father. I've had three months to find out who Ari Worthington is. And I'm not going to cower any more. I'm going ahead with this dream of mine."

"You've lost your senses, young lady! Now, I'm going to send one of my attachés up there and—"

Ari slammed the phone down. She sat there, shaking visibly. Fists tight in her lap, she tried to breathe deeply, to center
herself
as Inca had taught her. Within a minute, she felt calmer. Her heart was settling back down. Reaching over, she touched the waxy, thick petals of the orchid
Rafe
had given her, which now sat in a small glass of water on the
bedstand
. She could almost feel his smile, his approval of her standing up to her father.

"Well, I've burned all my bridges,
Rafe
and Inca. You're probably cheering me on, and I'm scared to death…." Looking around, worried and fretting, Ari knew that her hundred-dollar-a-night hotel room would have to go, and soon. She'd saved some money, but not enough to stay in such a place for long. No, she'd have to get a job—fast. Looking around the Victorian-style room, she chewed on her lower lip. How she wished
Rafe
was here. He made her feel strong, as if she could accomplish anything she set out to do.

Lonely as never before, Ari got up and started to unpack her sketchbooks. She brought them back to the bed and sat down, the first one across her lap. One day, when
Rafe
was working on his reports at the campfire, she'd made a sketch of him. She'd never shown it to him for fear he'd laugh at her. Turning to that page, she sighed as she studied the sketch. He was in profile, his face clean and strong looking. She had many canisters of film yet to be developed, including a number of photographs of him, but Ari knew she'd have to get a job first in order to be able to afford the processing.

Briefly touching his tousled black hair, she closed her eyes and imagined that she was threading her fingers through his hair once more, as she had that night she'd held him. That night was indelibly branded upon her heart, her spirit. No man had ever trusted her enough to cry in her arms.
Rafe
was so different from all the other men she'd encountered in her life thus far. Opening her eyes, she glumly looked around the room.

Well, tomorrow a new chapter in her life would begin; she had to find a job and then start knocking on editors' doors. Frightened as never before, Ari knew she'd have to walk through her fear and keep her eyes on her dream. Glancing at the orchids, she wanted more than anything to be home with
Rafe
.
In
Amazonia
.
Was that a dream, too? Could she make it come true?
Rafe
wanted her back. He had not said he loved her, but in her heart, she knew he did. And she thought she understood why he hadn't said those words to her. He was a throwback to ages past, when a man was a courtly gentleman.
A Victorian era aristocrat who respected her completely.
Enough to allow her the freedom to follow her dream of having her book published.

As Ari listlessly stood and opened her suitcase to find her nightgown, she remembered
Rafe
telling her that if love was real between a man and a woman, it allowed each of them to walk their own path. That marriage, to him, was a partnership, and that each partner had to respect the other's passions and dreams. Well, he was giving her that freedom now. And he'd given her an orchid that was an open invitation to go back home. How desperately she wanted to! Being in a large city, alone, without friends or help, was daunting. Yet Ari knew she had to do this. Inca had told her that there were tests in everyone's life, where they had to walk a gauntlet of fire alone. Those that had the heart, the faith in themselves and the driving need to reach their goals would survive.

A new sense of determination flowed through Ari. It was surprising, and yet she welcomed it. Over the next few minutes, she felt a trickle of hope that she would be able to meet her adversity face-to-face. As Inca had said, all she had to do was
try.
That was all that was asked of anyone. Even if she failed, that didn't mean she'd lost anything. But if she didn't try, she would be a failure. Buoyed by Inca's words, and
Rafe's
unspoken love for her, Ari took in a deep breath. On the
bedstand
was the orchid. All she had to do was look at it, hear
Rafe's
emotion-filled request that she come back to him, and that was enough….

"Father?"

Ben Worthington was working at his massive cherry desk in the Pentagon late on a snowy December afternoon. It was Friday, and most people had left early because of the snowstorm that was stalking the East Coast. He hadn't; there was too much paperwork to catch up on. When he heard his daughter's strong, clear voice, his head snapped up. Ari stood in the open doorway, his assistant, Becky, standing behind her, an apologetic look on her face. No one saw the secretary of the Navy without an appointment, even his daughter, who had disappeared out of his life in July.

Clearing his throat, he nodded to his assistant. "That's all right, Becky. Bring us some cookies and coffee, please?" He stood, feeling anger and curiosity and relief mix violently within
himself
as Ari moved into the office. She was wearing a soft pink wool beret, her golden hair tucked beneath the camel hair coat that fell to her knees. She wore black wool slacks and a pair of black galoshes still shiny with melting snow. The vivid purple wool muffler thrown around her neck and shoulders made her blue eyes seem even larger.

"Ari…" he murmured, coming around the desk, his hands outstretched
. "
I've been worried sick about you." He stopped about six feet away from her. What was different about his daughter? Many things, he realized, beginning with the look in her eyes. He no longer saw fright there, and she was able to meet and hold his gaze. The way she held herself was different, too. Instead of being slump-shouldered, as if ashamed of something, she stood confidently before him, her chin uplifted. She gripped a large parcel wrapped in plastic against her breast.

"I'm fine, Father," she answered unsteadily. It took all of Ari's courage to meet his hard, assaulting gaze. That look of the eagle in her father's eyes had always scared her, but now she had to move through that fear. She saw him hesitate, his brows knitted in confusion. And then he dropped his hand and looked suddenly very old, his skin gray, not its normal ruddy color. Still, he looked strong and powerful in his expensive Italian pinstripe suit and ebony leather shoes. The tie was a paisley blue, black and cream design, equally conservative.

"This is quite a surprise," he uttered, and then saw his assistant rushing in with a silver tray filled with coffee cups and cookies. Smiling faintly, he gestured to the leather wing chair nearest him. "Have a seat, Ari. Becky will serve us and then we'll talk."

Ari swallowed hard. She was afraid of her father. After hanging up on him so many months ago and not contacting him since, she figured he would be furious with her. Now he appeared worried, yet grateful that she'd showed up. Gripping the parcel, she walked toward the chair only after he'd backed away, walked around the desk and sat down. Her hands moved nervously over the package as she placed it on the wing chair and divested herself of her coat, beret and muffler.