Man of Passion. Lindsay McKennaЧитать онлайн книгу.
to be my shrink,” Ben griped good-naturedly.
Chuckling, Morgan stood up. “I’m going to be late for my appointment with the Joint Chiefs of Staff if I don’t hightail it out of here, Ben.” He thrust his hand out to his old friend. “I’ll have my office fax a dossier on Rafe Antonio, and his photo, to you. You’ll have them by this afternoon. That way, you can talk intelligently with your daughter about him being her guide.”
“Bodyguard.”
Morgan released Ben’s hand. “That, too. My office will get in touch with Rafe by Iridium phone satellite transmission. Down there in the jungle, only direct satellite transmissions can get info in and out. Standard cell phones are useless. I’ll make sure my people give you the confirmation that he knows Ari is coming to Manaus. Just call and give them the airline and flight information.”
Ben sighed and looked dejectedly down at his desk. “I don’t know, Morgan. Being a parent is hell. I worry for Ari. I’ll probably have insomnia while she’s down there….”
“When you read up on Antonio, I don’t think you’ll lose sleep,” Morgan reassured him as he opened the door. “Just tell Ari she’s in good hands.”
Chapter Two
“Will you settle down?” Ari hissed the words to herself as she sat tensely in the living room of her condo. It was located near Georgetown University, where she’d spent five years of her life pursuing a degree she didn’t want. Her father was to meet her at 8:00 p.m. She knew he’d be punctual; he always was. In fact, he ran his life by that darned appointment book of his. After all, Ben Worthington was a power broker who moved in the highest circles of politics and government in the country.
Chewing on her full lower lip—a nervous habit she took up whenever she was about to have a confrontation with him or anyone—she uncrossed her legs and sat straight on the flowery print couch. Her mind raced. She had to have all the reasons why she had to go to the Amazon down pat or her father would shred them with his cold, analytical skills. Her heart almost burst with anticipation and she collapsed against the back of the couch. She had to go! Her father had to let her.
When the doorbell rang, Ari jumped what felt like three feet off the couch. Instantly, her stomach knotted as she leaped to her feet and walked breathlessly to the door, smoothing a hand over the long-sleeved lavender blouse she wore with dark navy trousers and comfortable brown loafers. Opening the door, she saw her father standing there, towering over her with his massive height. She could see dark shadows beneath his pale blue eyes, and the set of his mouth sent a frisson of fear through her. Beneath his left arm was a manila envelope, and he carried a black leather briefcase.
“Hi, Father, come on in….” She stepped aside. “You look really tired. Hard day?”
Ben ambled into the small, neatly kept condo. “It was a tough day, Ari. Yes, I’m beat.” He glanced around the room, realizing once again how much her condo reflected Ellen’s taste in furniture, colors and greenery. Ari had created space for about six orchids on the windowsills. Some of them were in bloom. When he halted, turned and looked down at his youngest daughter, he thought about how much she looked like Ellen had when they’d first gotten married. They’d been in their mid-twenties, and Ben recalled vividly how he’d plunged over the edge when he’d seen Ellen. She was so alive, almost ethereal. More like a diaphanous cloud than something created from terra firma. Though Ari had his light blue eyes, she had Ellen’s thick, gold hair and oval face. In fact, Ari was the same height and build as Ellen. His daughter had let her hair grow since graduating from college and it hung in a loose pageboy around her slumped shoulders.
Ben wished Ari would square her shoulders and stand up tall and proud. But she never did. He watched as she fluttered around the living room, removing several magazines from the couch to the coffee table, next to the lacy fern that sat there.
“Have you eaten?” Ari asked, her heart pounding hard with anxiety.
“Yes, I have.” Ben sat down. Ari took the overstuffed chair opposite him. Chewing on her lip, she watched as her father put down the briefcase and then slowly opened the thick manila envelope.
“What’s that?” She hoped it was her airline ticket for Manaus.
“Your adventure,” he muttered. Lifting his head, his hand resting on the papers he placed on his lap, he said, “Are you sure you want to do this, Ari? I’ve got a job on Wall Street waiting for you. Why can’t you drop this idea of yours and do something solid for your career?”
Hurt wove through her. She avoided his piercing blue gaze. Ari had a tough time looking people squarely in the eyes. She always felt so worthless, so inept and small in comparison to those who could boldly meet someone’s gaze and hold it. She admired people who could. She felt like a coward most of the time. Rubbing her face with her hands, she whispered, “Father, I’ve got to do this!” Her soft voice grew fervent. “Please? This is for Mom.” She put her hand against her heart. “She dreamed so much of going to the Amazon to hunt orchids and draw them. I really want to do this for her.”
Wearily, Ben studied his daughter’s features in the lamplight. She looked more girl than woman to him. Maybe Morgan was right and he needed to see Ari differently. But dammit, it was hard. Almost impossible to do. “But you can’t even draw, Ari!” Instantly, he saw how his words wounded her. Every little emotion registered across her face, just as it had on Ellen’s. They were so much alike that it broke his heart. “I’m sorry, Ari…you just don’t have your mother’s education and training. You never took a course in art.”
Pressing both hands to her heart, Ari fought back the tears. She felt like such a loser. She wanted desperately to please her father, but this thing, this urge deep in her heart and gut, was driving her like a fanatical force that would no longer be ignored. She had to respond to it, to how she really felt. Heart aching, Ari whispered, “I know I’m a lousy artist, Father. I don’t even pretend to call myself one. But I love to sketch. I used to sketch with Mom all the time. Remember how she’d loan me some of her paper and colored pencils and we’d both draw the orchid she chose?”
“Only too well,” Ben admitted tiredly. On the walls of Ari’s condo were at least ten of Ellen’s original paintings of her beloved orchids. Ellen had been a small sensation in the art world with her talent for portraying the luscious, feminine-looking orchids. It had started as a hobby, but she had eventually made a lot of money at it, as well as achieving no small amount of fame.
Ben studied Ari. She looked helpless to him, her hands pressed against her small breasts, her eyes pleading. What tore at him most were the unshed tears he saw in them. Dammit, he didn’t mean to hurt her or make her cry. Ellen would cry at anything and everything. Ari was no different.
“Look,” he said gruffly, “I’ve got your airline ticket here, your passport and everything you need. You’re going, okay?”
Instantly, Ben saw a shining, joyous light come to her large, widening eyes.
“Oh, thank you, Father!” Ari leaped off the chair, came around the coffee table and threw her arms around his neck, giving him a fierce hug.
“Ari…don’t get carried away,” he ordered brusquely, untangling his daughter’s arms from around his neck. “You’re not a little kid anymore,” he muttered. “You’re a young woman….”
Laughing delightedly, Ari sat there, one leg beneath her on the couch as she felt a thrill of freedom flow through her. He was going to let her go to Manaus! Suddenly she was scared. She’d lived with fear all her life, so this was just a new kind to her. It felt delicious in comparison to her other fears, however. Soaring giddily on the news, she said, “Father, are you saying I’m too old to give you a hug every now and then?” He had always been uncomfortable with touching and holding, and Ari never understood why. Her mother had been such a toucher and hugger in comparison, but Ari had never seen her parents kiss or even hold hands out in public. Yet she knew to this day that her dad still loved her mother fiercely. Her photos were everywhere in his condominium and on his desk at the Pentagon. Ari