It wasn’t Ellie. I checked the number on the screen. Yep, I’d called the agency. Listening to the still ringing phone, I grumbled, “C’mon and answer, El.”
A tall man in a uniform stepped forward, sliding a pair of aviator sunglasses to the top of a full head of dark brown hair. “Pardon the interruption. Are you Miss Jones?”
My gaze locked onto smoky hazel eyes. And I do mean locked. “Ye-yesss. I’m Miss Jones. But how did you know?”
“Oh, we have our ways.” The corners of his mouth turned up, and he pointed to his badge. “I’m Sheriff Gonzales. We spoke on the phone.”
I got nothing. Total loss for words. Even my wildest dreams couldn’t have conjured this square-jawed, golden-skinned Mayan god straight out of a GQ Magazine. For the first time since this nightmare began, I wanted to fall to my knees and say, thank you, thank you, thank you, Ruby.
“I was already in the area on official business and finished in time to meet your flight. I’m parked at the curb. May I take your bag?”
I blinked a couple of times to be sure he wasn’t a mirage. “What? No, thank you, Sheriff. I can handle it myself. I appreciate the ride, but I could’ve taken a taxi, you know.”
“I apologize if you thought I doubted your competence, Miss Jones, but considering the stressful nature of the situation, I thought it best if someone picked you up. Finding transportation into the city can be confusing.”
My subconscious longed to blurt out “you might be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” With every ounce of strength I could muster, I coolly stated, “Cancun’s transportation system might be confusing for the average tourist, but I’m a travel agent, perfectly capable of finding my way into and around the city.”
Adjusting the strap of my carryon bag, I tossed my head and walked into the side of a trashcan.