Path of the Jaguar Read Online Free PDF Page A

looked exactly like Sid. "Mother, Father," Sid introduced, "this is Lennea Andrews."
    "I'm Lucas. " Lennea shook hands with Mr. Guerrero, who had stepped forward to greet her. She felt the sharp tension between shoulder blades begin to ease. She moved toward the woman, who had remained seated. "So nice to meet you, Mrs.—"
    The pleasant, dark-skinned woman stopped her with a wave of the hand. "Nobody dares to call me Mrs. Guerrero," she laughed. "Just Neysa."
    "Or Mother Neysa," Sid put in. "She likes that. Don't you, Mother?" His brown eyes seemed to seek hers for approval. "I'm flattered when people consider me to have those qualities of a mother. There's no higher praise that a woman can receive."
    No women's liberation here. Val would adore her. In fact, her sister would like the entire family, she decided, her eyes returning to the white-haired, aristocratic father.
    With a wink so similar to Sid's, Lucas added, "My wife often gets carried away on the subject of motherhood." He gave an appreciative chuckle. "She wanted many children. Nature provided us with only one."
    "One, but to make up for it, the very best."
    Sid turned away with embarrassment, from which he quickly recovered, saying, "Lennea arrived last night with Joseph."
    Was it her association with Joseph which made them feel so friendly toward her—or was it something else? How could she be suspicious of such kindly people?
    "Any friend of Joseph's is a friend of ours," observed Lucas.
    "We've just met," Lennea explained, anxious that they not jump to mistaken conclusions about her relationship with Joseph. "Though I guess we'll both be working at the excavation site this summer." She shifted uncomfortably, aware of the feel of the navy bag at her side. Something inside of her wanted to scream or to laugh. Here she was, making chit-chat with polite strangers while a fortune in money lay hidden inside her purse.
    "The whole town's buzzing about the new excavations around Chichen Itza. Imagine, you both working there with Professor Hern!" Neysa said enthusiastically. "You must have so much in common."
    "If I were predicting," Sid went on mischievously, "I'd say we have a match."
    "You tell Joseph that we want to see him. It seems like ages since he was last here," Neysa scolded, as if the two of them were already a pair.
    "And I must admit that I've missed your cooking," came a familiar voice from the doorway. Lennea looked up to see Joseph standing there. The white, woven shirt made a striking contrast to his thick, dark hair. The casual clothing emphasized his olive skin, slightly prominent nose, and black eyes. Except for his impressive height, he could have passed for one of the Mayas. The hand upon her bag tightened. She searched his face for something secretive, deceptive. But she saw only openness in his clear eyes and handsome face.
    "We'll have you two over for dinner, then," Neysa was saying. "Soon. Lennea, do you like Mexican food?"
    "Yes, if it's not too hot."
    "You name it, she can cook it," Joseph said. He stepped further into the room until he stood by Lennea's side. "I love some of those exotic Maya dishes. My favorite is Dzotolbichay."
    "Chicken in tamarind sauce," Sid explained, beaming. Joseph took Lennea's arm. "And speaking of food, we have a table waiting for us in the dining room."
    "Enjoy your lunch," Sid said. His brown eyes rested upon Lennea for a moment. "If there's anything you need, just ring the desk." Although Lennea had enjoyed meeting Sid's parents, she felt an odd sense of relief as she walked with Joseph down the spacious hallway toward the dining room. She wondered how many guests were actually allowed into the cozy haven of the Guerreros' private domain. This immediate and total acceptance of her didn't quite ring true. The Swedes back home were warm, friendly people, but even they tended to be clannish until friendship was firmly established.
    The navy blue bag suddenly felt awkward against her waist and shoulder. She