Free Island Tango (Silver Goddess Series, Book One) by Anisa Claire West

against him.  He opened his eyes and squinted for a moment, then smiled as he looked over at her.
    “Good morning?  Or afternoon… or evening? I really have no idea.” He mumbled in a groggy voice.
    “I think it must be close to sunset.” She conjectured, gazing at the patterns in the sky.
    “Then we should go have dinner.  You must be starving.” Pedro shifted and reached for his clothing strewn across some twigs next to them.
    At the mention of the word “dinner” Herculea’s stomach rumbled.  All she had eaten that day was fruit.  She looked down at her partial nudity, her dress twisted around her hips.  She readjusted her dress and stood up self-consciously.  Now she was wide awake and painfully aware of how vulnerable she had allowed herself to be.  The whole setting seemed surreal .  S he looked away from Pedro.
    “Your house is that way, right?” She asked, pointing east.
    “Yes, it is.  Let’s go.” He zipped up his pants and took her by the hand.
    It was quite a hike to get back to the house.  Herculea had forgotten how much ground they had covered earlier in the day.  When they finally reached the house, Herculea felt weak and in dire need of a wholesome meal.  Against her vegetarian beliefs, she found herself craving a plump, juicy steak with creamy mashed potatoes swimming in salty gravy.  And a glass of full-bodied red wine. Herculea began to salivate at the succulent meal she had created in her imagination.
    She trudged behind Pedro up the staircase leading to the patio and followed him inside.  The stepped into a large den.   Mahogany furniture and forest green walls occupied the masculine space.  There was a bar table with a decanter of what looked to be cognac.  It was surprisingly dark and windowless in the room, and Herculea did not notice any lamps or other electronics.
    As though reading her mind, Pedro said, “The only electricity I have here is the freezer.  It seems a waste to have other modern conveniences since I’m here so infrequently.  Call me a survivalist.”
    Herculea’s head began to spin with a combination of hunger and discomfiture.  She felt the need to be alone and collect her thoughts.  And remember her mission here in Brazil.  She did not want to spend the evening with Pedro.
    “I think I should be getting back to my hotel.” She blurted out as Pedro whipped around to face her with a stern expression.
    “Why would you want to go back to your hotel?  I’m going to take you to dinner.” He said tightly.
    “It’s been a long day.  And yesterday was a long day too.  I think I’m jet lagged.”
    Yes, Herculea thought.  That was a revelation.  The reason she had fallen asleep outdoors in broad daylight with a semi-stranger at her side was her jet lag.  Well, that and the mind-numbing sex that had preceded it.  But it was mainly the jet lag, she thought.  It was so unlike her to let her guard down in front of someone she did not know or trust.
    Suddenly, she could taste the mango juice on the tip of her tongue. Alarmed, she recalled the slight bitterness of the drink.  Maybe he really had laced it with alcohol and that’s what caused her to be intimate with him and sleep so soundly afterwards.
    “I guess we could have dinner at one of the hotel’s restaurants.” Pedro suggested, not seeming to grasp her desire to be alone.
    Feeling violated, but not wanting to discuss it, she protested, “I’m just so tired.  And this is a business trip for me, after all.  My time in Brazil is limited, and I have to get some strength back to do my work.” Herculea spoke decisively, not caring at the moment if she offended Pedro.  She was not his prisoner.
    “Oh, yes.  You are going to interview some c apoeira artists ?” Pedro asked with a hint of condescension in his voice.
    Herculea hesitated before replying.  She did not want to go into detail about her search for the Silver Goddess, but she would see if Pedro could at least point her in