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  Sara crossed her arms. “That’s not true. He wanted to be helpful. I am still trying to lose a few pounds.”

  “Sara,” said Erica, her voice going up a few notches. “I’d love to look the way you do. You’re beautiful.”

  Sara started, but Alicia cut her off. “Whatever excuse you’re planning to say. Don’t. Erica’s right. You’ve got a look that can send men crazy. Erica and I hate it when you knock yourself.”

  An announcer came over the PA system.

  Sara exhaled. “Looks like it’s time to board,” she said, and then her face broke into a wide grin. “Let’s forget about guys and just have a great time together this weekend.”

  “Amen to that,” said Erica, and they all raised their glasses in a final toast.

  Chapter 3

  Erica pulled the rental car up to the Le Pavillon hotel in downtown New Orleans. The flight from Atlanta to New Orleans had been carefree, but the drive from the airport made her anxious. She wanted to have a great time this weekend, but now she was forced to complete a work assignment in some loyalty test for the station. The sights and sounds of the city deserved her full attention, but she could only afford a passing notice.

  A bellhop came out and waited by the trunk as Erica popped it open for him. “This weekend could be fun,” grinned Alicia, eyeing him up and down.

  Sara grabbed her arm. “He looks like a teenager. I’m not bailing you out if you get arrested.”

  Alicia threw up her hands in a mock surrender. “Just taking in the sights of the city.” Then she frowned and looked over to Erica. “Is the whole Gary thing still eating you?”

  “I texted this cameraman I’m supposed to work with. He’s going to meet me in an hour so I can get this story done. Hopefully I can finish it in a couple hours and then meet you two by the pool.” She walked into the lobby and handed the bellboy a tip. Her check-in went fast and she decided not to wait for her sisters. “So I’ll see you both by the pool this afternoon,” she said as she hurried to the elevator. The faster she could finish this report, the happier she’d be. Maybe working outdoors would clear her head and she’d be able to figure out what to do once she got back. Whatever else, and no matter what Alicia thought, she would never consent to a three-way with Gary and her backstabbing, leg-spreading slut of an intern. There had to be another way to salvage her career.

  She hadn’t slept more than an hour since discovering Gary’s cheating. Her entire body cried out for rest. If she laid down, then she would never reclaim the motivation to finish this report. She let herself take a quick look out her window to the city around her. Traffic wove in and out, while people strolled along the sidewalk in a sea of color.

  She enjoyed a busting city life, and living in New York provided it in abundance. But it seemed vibrant here without the overwhelming intensity she always felt in NY. She drew the curtain shut and started emptying her bag. Living out of a suitcase didn’t have the carefree feeling she liked having when she traveled, so one by one, she placed her clothes in the dresser. She looked up to fold her bag and scarcely recognized herself in the mirror.

  Through her mascara, dark circles ringed her eyes. The quick wash she gave her hair before leaving had flattened into a bed hair look. Even the clothes she wore, that she thought were sophisticated only hours earlier, now appeared bland. Formal clothes that she thought presented herself as a professional, but only made her become boring. She opened the dresser and looked through her limited wardrobe again. None of the vibrant colors she wore even a year ago were there. Without even thinking about it, she’d allowed herself to become part of the studio machine. Bland and boring. A perfect match for the hyper-professional and buttoned down image the studio wanted to present to the public. She’d become a cog in a machine, that on the inside was oversexed and out of control.

  How this insight would help her save her career wasn’t clear, but she knew what she had to do. This report they intended for her, she’d do her own way, with her own style. She collected her purse and with a determination she hadn’t felt in years, headed down the to the boutique shop in the lobby. The hotel store wouldn’t be cheap, but they’d have everything she needed for a fresh, fashionable outfit. Then she could go meet the cameraman to do her report in style. She bounded into store like an overexcited teenager shopping alone for the first time, and ten minutes later walked out with her new look.

  Caution had been last on her mind while she shopped. She ended up choosing a white camisole that dipped a bit lower into her breasts than she usually wore, and then added a colorful jacket and skirt to round out the outfit. It reminded her of spring and she smiled at the old Erica blooming from the bland wardrobe prison she had locked herself into.

  Once the valet retrieved her car, she took off and detoured through the downtown. Small shops and restaurants lined the streets. The smell of gumbo and spices filled the air and mixed with the sounds of street performers playing their tunes. Music faded behind her as she eased onto the southbound highway. The directions she had led her forty minutes south of New Orleans in one of the farthest points of the bayou that were reachable by car. Once there, she would go to other sites by boat.

  She kept her windows rolled down and let the wind sweep through her hair. Alicia and Sara would be down at the pool by now. According to Alicia, picking up men at the pool typically led to a better hookup since the guy usually wasn’t all drunk and stupid. But Erica and Sara never bothered to try it with her. Erica hoped that Alicia would remember that this was a sister’s weekend and leave the whole hooking-up thing for when she got back to her own home in Boston.

  She’d have to sort Gary out after this trip, but whatever the fallout, she wanted to avoid all male entanglements for the near future. Men were too much trouble, and until she solved her own problems, she didn’t want to add any more.

  Traffic eased the farther she drove from the city. Soon all around her were the edges of the famed New Orleans bayou. Green screamed from every direction as trees stretched along the land and into the edges of the water. She’d been to Louisiana before, but had never taken much time to explore the bayou. A tourist boat tour along the river didn’t get into the heart of the untamed wetlands. If this cameraman was a local, then maybe she’d finally have a chance to see some of the usually unseen parts of the area.

  She smiled. He would probably look like the union cameramen back in New York: a forty-ish man with a good sized belly; faint traces of hair beginning to gray; pants that he needed to constantly pull up to stay on; and married, but seeing other people.

  She pinched her nose and made a face in her mirror. Her vow to steer clear of men should be easy with that kind of selection. The decision to skip most of the pool time seemed wiser with each passing mile. If she stretched out on a lounge chair in her bikini, she’d have too much attention focused on her. Well, at least a little attention. Men paid more attention to Alicia and Sara than they did her, but guys didn’t completely ignore her.

  Her phone GPS advised her of the last turn. Five minutes had passed since she saw another car. She exited off the highway, turned and went another mile down a dirt road. The road ended in a small parking area with a dock and boat launch. The GPS flashed arrival at her destination.

  She parked next to a tree, grabbed her phone, and got out. It took her longer to get here than she planned because of her side trip to the boutique, but the cameraman couldn’t have left already. She glanced at her phone. She was ten minutes late. He hadn’t tried to call or text so he should still be waiting. She looked around the dock area again. A small trail led off into the woods by the water. She decided to head down it. Another dock might be nearby.

  She started off and called out. “Hello. Is anyone here?”

  The trail followed the water’s edge and she looked around into the woods. The highway was too far away to see and the dock had passed out of sight behind her. She peered over the small strip of land between her and the water. Frogs and birds sang out and mixed with the sound of
her feet. No other dock came into view and the trail became damper. The ground was stable and dry enough to walk on, but no longer free of moisture. Up ahead, the trail seemed to split and fracture, with some viable paths crossing over the water. Farther past that, the bayou engulfed any visible way forward.

  She stood in place and listened for the noise of a boat or any other vehicle, but couldn’t hear anything manmade over the wildlife. She frowned. Was a real cameraman waiting for her? She’d wanted to call and make the arrangements over the phone, but he insisted on texting. The entire arrangement had been set up by the station. What if it was a prank her producer and Gary were playing on her? Had the entire idea of this report just been another way of telling her that she was expendable if she didn’t play along with Gary sexually?

  Her mouth went dry as she considered the possibility. If this wasn’t a real report they had sent her on, then the fragility of her situation at the station was worse than she realized. She pulled her phone out and dialed the cameraman. An automated voicemail picked up and she left a message.

  Water splashed and she heard branches crack behind her. She froze and called out again. “Hello?”

  Another crack and this time she knew it had come from down the trail back toward her car, but she couldn’t see anything or anyone. She considered running back to her car, but stopped herself. Any number of animals could break a branch. Running past wherever it may be hiding might scare it away. But the bayou had bigger animals too. Like Alligators. What if an alligator had gotten out of the water and waited in the brush just a few dozen feet from her. She stood planted in place and peered at the area where she thought the sound came from. Sweat tricked on her forehead and she pulled her phone out ready to call 911, but her hands shook enough that she dropped it. When the phone hit the ground, the brush down the trail rustled again. Erica screamed, turned, and ran farther down the trail.

  Justin Rossi steered his motorboat across the bayou to his meeting point. Birds resting in the water flew off as he sped by, and the mist from the wake of his boat sprayed him in the face. His frown faded as he breathed in the fresh air and took in the never ending sounds of life around him. Money might force him to escort another prissy New York reporter on a bayou tour, but the ten minute concern for the wildlife they all displayed wouldn’t bother him today. He’d take the station’s money, show their reporter around, and watch her weep a few crocodile tears on the wrongness of all the environmental damage. Then she’d go back to her big city life, and in-between her daily lattes, not spend a single moment thinking about the environment. At least until her producers wanted a follow-up.

  He’d seen in all. It didn’t matter what state or country they came from, it ended the same. The reporters wanted a quick story they could cram into a five minute segment. Maybe ten minutes, if the producers were ambitious about exploiting the situation. Then nothing ever happened for the better, except that his wallet bulged a little bigger.

  His last group, three women, came from NHK in Japan. Out of all the time he spent with them, he expected one of them to end the sexual drought he’d been through since filing for divorce. Nothing ever happened. But when he realized that they only wanted to do a story about the bayou damage to rally more Japanese people into opposing nuclear power in Japan, he wouldn’t have cared if the gators had gotten any of them. He didn’t understand how they figured to link environmental oil spill damage with nuclear power, but they paid well so he didn’t ask.

  It had been over a year since he’d been with a woman and his body lit on fire with need that he’d ignored too long. When he caught his ex in bed with his partner, a man whose integrity he’d never questioned, who’d been his friend for years, and who stood at his wedding, he felt the certainties in his life crumble.

  Now he doubted if he ever really loved her. Certainly he’d lusted after her for a time. The passion of their courtship seemed intense, but now he saw it for the mere hollow physical coupling that it was. Then he compounded his own foolishness when he escalated lust into marriage. Now her attorney was making him pay the price.

  He sighed and steered around a cluster of fallen trees. His phone beeped with a new voicemail and he pulled his cell from his pocket to check the number. The reporter called. She could wait; he was only a minute away.

  He slowed the boat as he approached the dock. Rocks, trees and sometimes gators lurked under the water this close to shore, and he didn’t want to hit any of them. He shook his head as he saw the Nissan Infiniti parked in the lot. Besides not really caring about the environment, reporters also professed indignation about the fate of the American worker only to turn around after their broadcasts to drive a foreign luxury car. The hypocrisy of the media continually amazed him.

  He scanned the shore for any sign of the reporter, but she wasn’t there. His frown came back. Most reporters didn’t like to get dirty, so wandering off alone into the foliage wasn’t something he expected from any of them. He hoped she had just reclined back in her car seat and he couldn’t see her. He wouldn’t be happy if she had gotten lost and he needed to go looking for her.

  The boat glided gently next to the dock. The engine revved so slowly that the noise was virtually unnoticeable. When the boat thumped to a stop against the wood, he quickly tied up to a post and jumped off onto the dock. He brushed himself off and headed over to the car.

  Empty. His frown morphed into a scowl and looked down the trail. City people usually had a misplaced sense of their ability to navigate the outdoors. They assumed that simply because someone had cut a trail, built a bench, or done some other minimal development, that nature had been tamed and they were as safe as they were in their city. She probably thought she could just poke around and find much of what she came down for on her own.

  He spat, wiped his mouth, and headed down the trail for his missing reporter. The scream sent him into a sprint. No frozen indecision. No wondering what to do. Adrenalin flowed into him on pure instinct. However foolish this New Yorker was, she needed help, and he never left a woman in trouble.

  He caught sight of her up ahead, just before she turned behind a tree. His nerves lit up on seeing her, even for a moment, and then faded. He ignored the feeling and kept moving. She was running, but he couldn’t see why. In front of him, by the water, a raccoon scurried across the path. He and the animal ignored each other as he raced by to catch the woman. She had climbed halfway up a tree by the time he rounded the corner of the trail. His mouth ticked up when he watched her hips sway as she unsuccessfully tried to shimmy herself up to the nearest branch.

  Now that she wasn’t moving farther away from him, he slowed to a walk. He moved silently across the damp ground. She struggled to get higher into the tree, completely oblivious to everything around her. Even over the fresh air and smells of the bayou, he could take in the scent of her perfume. The tantalizing smell sent a flush of excitement through him. Her brown hair fell back behind her in a tangled weave that reminded him of the forest and how the trees sometimes wove their branches together. He licked his lips.

  Her focus on climbing the tree amazed him, but his mind still put her in positions more suited for the bedroom than that bayou. He knew it was too much to ask for. That this be the woman who would break his sexual drought, but if she focused on a man as intently as she tried tree climbing, then it would probably be trip to heaven.

  She reached up for a new branch and swung her legs up to a knot in the trunk. Her foot hit the mark and she started pulling herself up when the branch cracked. A scream split the quiet and she tumbled backward. He covered the remaining distance in a heartbeat and had his arms stretched out under her. Her weight slammed into him and his knees buckled slightly under the impact, but he held onto her and pulled her into his chest.

  His eyes closed under the strain of stopping her descent. He’d read once about a man who caught a kid falling out of an apartment in New York. The papers lauded him a hero, but didn’t mention all the bruises he got by saving the boy. He wondered if t
his would be the heroic act that put him into a hospital with some broken bones or torn muscles. Under his hands, he could feel her body trembling. Slowly his legs stabilized.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” he said and he felt her relax slightly.

  She had wrapped her arms around his neck and he could feel her breath on his skin. Every ounce of her body radiated heat and it poured into him. Whatever had frightened her, it didn’t diminish for an instant the incredible sex appeal he had for her. Her trembling quieted some more. His right hand held her legs, but his left was under her back, and he pulled her tight. Her perfume smelled stronger, more inviting this close up and mixed in with the intoxicating smell of her hair. Everything about her had excited him. He stroked her skin through the fabric of her clothes and felt a tremble move through her.

  “I’ve never saved a lady like this before,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  Her breath deepened and she lifted her head from his shoulder. A wave of heat swept through him as he gazed into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. Perfectly formed, wide-open brown eyes locked with his gaze. He looked over her whole face from her thick, lush hair; past her eyes and over the curves of her cheeks; to end on her full lips. An urge surged into him to lean his head down and take her lips into his. He wanted to taste her, but he resisted. He wanted her, but she had run from something. If he went in for a quick kiss, his chances would be over. He needed to reassure her of her safety and avoid scaring her. He breathed in and lifted his eyes to meet her gaze again.

  Her mascara had smudged, but she wasn’t crying. Whatever tears she had were over as her body continued a slow descent from fear to calm. “What happened to the gator?” she blurted out, her eyes darting to look at the path behind them.

  His face contorted for a moment. Then he broke into a deep, rich laugh that rumbled through her body and heated her up. He held her close to him and she briefly wondered why she hadn’t jumped out of his arms yet. Here was a real man. Not the fake, made-up one she left behind in New York. Warmth flowed down between her legs, a place she thought she’d turned off for the time being, since learning the truth about Gary. But the arousal growing between her legs pulsed steady.