The Lourdes Brothers of Key Largo

And he also needed to power his way past this slower moving traffic into a clearer stretch of road.

Checking the rearview mirror, he slid his vintage Corvette into the fast lane, getting out from behind a brake-happy minivan. As they passed the van, he noted the map sprawled out on the dash. That explained everything about the somewhat erratic driving behavior.

He used the opportunity of an open road to check out Portia, noting her slender face, porcelain skin and pointed nose. The edges of her mouth were tensed slightly. Her hair was gathered into a loose ponytail, not completely down, but definitely more casual than her usual tightly pulled-back twist. The hairstyle had led him to believe getting through to her today would be easier.

Apparently, he would have to work harder at getting her to reveal her thoughts. And work harder at restraining the urge to slide his hands through her hair until it all hung loose and flowing around her shoulders. He remembered well the feel of those silken strands gliding through his fingers as he moved inside her—

Hell, there went his concentration again.

He draped his wrist over the steering wheel and searched for just the right way to approach her. Often times the simplest ways worked best. Maybe he’d been trying too hard.

“When my brother and I were kids traveling the world with our parents, we became masters at entertaining ourselves during long flights. I’m thinking now might be a good time to resurrect one of our games.”

She tipped her head toward him. “Oh really? What did you two play?”

Ah, good. She’d taken the bait.

“Our favorite was one we called Quiz Show. I was about ten when we started playing. I was determined to beat my older brother at something. He was still so much taller, but I figured since we were just a year apart, I had a fighting chance at taking him down in a battle of the minds.”

“Tell me more,” she said, toying with the end of her ponytail, which sent his pulse spiking again.

“We’d already been on a transcontinental flight and then had to spend ten more hours in a car. So we’d burned out on books and toys and homework. We started asking each other outrageous questions to stump each other.”

The result? Two very tight brothers. He hoped to re-create that experience with Portia. To learn something about her. “Would you like to play?”

“Uh, sure. You go first, though, and I reserve the right not to answer.”

“Fair enough.” A natural quizmaster, he paused, thinking of his first question. One that would help them flow into more personal topics. “What do you do for fun?”

“Are you being rude?” she asked indignantly.

Well, hell. “What do you mean?”

“You said the questions were meant to stump the other person so your question could be taken as an insult.”

“Damn. I didn’t mean that at all. How about consider this as a new game, our rules. I meant what does Portia Soto do for fun? To unwind? Because I don’t know you well and I’m trying to get to know you better.” He needed more than just raw data. He wanted her quirks, her idiosyncrasies. He wanted to figure out his attraction to her. Once he did, then he could put those tumultuous dreams to rest.

Or know whether to pursue an all-out affair.

She shot him a sideways look, her ponytail swishing, the ribbon rippling in the wind. “Okay, I see what you mean. But you have to promise not to laugh at my answer.”

“I would never. Unless you tell me you make to-do lists for fun. Then I might.” He kept his tone casual, his grip on the leather steering wheel light.

“I may be a Post-it note princess, but that isn’t my ‘fun’ time. No. I actually like to draw.” She said the words so quietly that they were almost swept away by the wind.

“You draw?” He spared her a sidelong glance, noting the way her cheeks flushed, even beneath her oversize sunglasses.

She nodded, pony tail bobbing. “I do.”

“Well, what do you like to draw?” He pressed for progress.

She took a deep breath, hand floating in the air as she made an uncharacteristically theatrical gesture that drew his attention to her elegant fingers. “Oh, you know, the usual kinds of things. Animals mostly. Lots of animals. People, too. Their faces especially. I like the small details.”

“You are just full of surprises, Ms. Soto.” He bet her way of noticing made her a brilliant artist. Nothing seemed to escape her gaze. He liked that about her. He was finding he liked a lot more about her than he’d realized. Apparently before now his absentminded professor ways had made him miss things. His attention to detail wasn’t as fine-tuned as hers.

Something he intended to rectify.

“Hmm. I can be... Well, how about you, Doctor Lourdes? What do you do for fun?”

His formal salutation felt unnatural coming from her. He knew she used it to put distance between them, but he wasn’t allowing it this time. “I’m afraid to confess my favorite downtime activity is fishing.”

“Really?”

In the corner of his vision, he saw her angle toward him.

“Really,” he responded without hesitation. “I know some would say that goes against the conservationist, animal lifesaving oath I took, but I’m not a vegetarian and I always eat what I catch.”

“It’s not bungee jumping or something equally adrenaline inducing?”

“I know. I’m a letdown. I like fishing because I enjoy the quiet time to think and reflect. And I’m humbled by the way the ecosystem works—how connected everything is.”

“Now who is full of surprises?” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

“My turn. What about your dreams? What do you really want to do?”

“I’m happy to be your assistant.”

He shook his head. “Not what I asked.”

They were only a few minutes away from the Hemingway Home and Museum, and the traffic around them increased, taillights glowing all around like a faux fire.

Portia tugged on her ponytail, thinking.

“In a perfect world? Like a money-and responsibility-free world?”

“Yep.” Tall palms stretched above them, casting shadows over her face.

The bright-colored houses and tropical foliage made the island look more like a movie set than reality. Foot traffic was dense too, but the cruise ship passengers on tour for the day would be pulling out before too long and things would quiet down.

“I think I’d like to do something with art. Maybe a nonprofit for kids that focused on creativity after school. Especially for kids who don’t have a strong family support system. I’d love to help them see they have the ability to create something beautiful and wonderful.”

Her words touched him as he turned the corner, traffic heavier as they drew closer to the historic landmark. “That’s a wonderful idea. There isn’t enough of that in the world. Any particular reason you chose this need over others?”

“When I was younger, I saw a lot of kids bogged down by circumstances out of their control and they had no outlets of support. I hated that.”

He could hear in her voice a more personal reason for her dream, one he felt like she wanted to share. This woman was more like the one he remembered from the night of the storm, the Portia who’d told him of her need to keep on the lights during storms as a child so her brother and her stuffed animals wouldn’t be afraid. But he’d seen in her eyes that she’d craved that light and comfort then too, but even now was unwilling to admit her own need for support. Even as her standoffish ways frustrated him at times, he also couldn’t help but admire her strength.

If he could keep her talking, he could win her over. What he’d do once he had her, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he wanted her like he’d wanted no one and nothing else.

But how to tease this information out of her?

He slowed the car to a halt, the traffic in front of him growing worse.

And then the unthinkable happened, interrupting his thoughts. A crash echoed in his ears less than an instant before the car jolted forward.

They’d been rear-ended. Damn. His protective instincts went on high alert and his arm shot across in front of Portia.

Only keeping her safe mattered.

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