“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I wish they’d left it with the front desk or something. It would have been less creepy.”

He glanced around, then frowned. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“When you get back tonight, will you call my room from the lobby? I’ll meet you and walk you to yours.”

“Uh, sure.” After a pause she asked, “Why?”

He grinned. “Do I need a reason to ask a beautiful woman to call me?”

She blushed. People had called her all sorts of things—short usually at the top of the list—but never beautiful. “I’ll call. But now I have to go, or they’ll definitely come up here looking for me.”

“Have an amazing time tonight, Cynthia.” He pivoted to watch her make her way to the elevator.

She paused at the elevator and smiled at him over her shoulder. “I’ll try.”

She wore a silly grin the entire ride down. Something about Rick Norton made her feel capable, worthwhile. Rather the opposite of how Andrew, her philandering former fiancé, had left her feeling. As she floated across the lobby, someone whistled. She glanced over and spotted McBride and Swanson.

“Looking good, Doc,” Swanson said. “No offense.”

McBride nodded. “Careful, Doc. You’ll break hearts walking around looking like that.”

With a giggle and a wave, she breezed through the doors and out of the hotel. Immediately a car pulled up. A different agent than before got out of the passenger’s side and opened the back door for her. As she slid into the car, she saw her father.

“Daddy,” she said. “I didn’t expect you here.”

He put down the paper he was reading and focused on her. He had on a black tuxedo with a white vest and white bow tie. “Ah, you chose the blue. I told Margaret that was my favorite.”

Margaret had worked as her father’s assistant for twenty years. “She always has good taste.”

“She always listens to your mother.” He patted her knee. “Tonight will be fun. I’m glad you’re my guest.”

They rode in silence for a few moments. She tried to relax so he wouldn’t see how tense she was.

Finally, he said, “I don’t appreciate having to make you heed my caution.”

Startled, she looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I wanted you to choose to leave. Now I have to play the bad guy.”

With eyes wide, she asked, “How will you do that?”

He fiddled with his tie before he said, “Katangela will revoke your visa effective the end of this month.”

She gasped. “Why would you do that?”

“You forced my hand. You could have made a different decision—the right decision.”

Anger boiled in her chest, and she clenched her hands. “I’m willing to risk it. It’s a big jungle. They’re not going to come looking for me to deport me.”