Every once in a while, Lucio would pull away from conversation with the boys and give Ginger a smile or nod. She didn't know him well enough to be sure, but he seemed to be conveying to her that he liked her kids and was enjoying himself.

One thing Lucio didn't leave open to interpretation was his opinion of her cooking. This is exquisite, he said, helping himself to a third chicken enchilada. Do you cook this extravagantly every night?

Ginger chuckled. She'd never seen canned beans and enchiladas made with grocery-store rotisserie chicken as extravagant. What do you usually eat, Lucio? she asked.

Ah, well, that is not a simple answer. He thought about it as he served the boys an extra enchilada each. I eat what is on the menu wherever I am. When I'm in San Francisco, that means anything and everything I wantChinese, Greek, Spanish even.

What about when you're on assignment? Jason asked.

Yes, well, then it can be a handful of nuts and a drink from my canteen if that's all that's available. Depending on my location, eating can be the biggest adventure of all.

You mean you've eaten some weird shii Jason's eyes flashed toward Ginger as he stopped himself in mid-profanity. You've eaten some weird stuff, right?

Oh, yes.

Jason propped his elbows on the table and leaned in, fascinated. Like what? What was the strangest thing you've ever eaten? Pig brains? Goat feet?

How about refried beans and saltines? Josh asked, laughing.

I ate that last night, Jason explained to Lucio, looking embarrassed.

Hmm. Lucio smiled at Ginger again and stroked HeatherLynn's fur. The bichon looked perfectly content. Well, I remember that once on the island of Okinawa I ate a live octopus.

Live? Josh's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

As I recall, it was more of a wrestling match than a dinner. Lucio laughed at the boys' horrified looks. The creature bit my tongue on the way down. I'd probably do the same if someone tried to eat me alive.

Whoa, Jason said, gulping.

Joshua's face lit up. What else?

There were those bamboo worms in Laos, Lucio said, as if he were going down a checklist in his mind. Quite crunchy, I recall. A hog-ear salad in Vietnam. Moose-bone soup in the Alaskan interior. Oh, and the reindeer herders of northwestern Russia make a mean ptarmigan stew.

Jason looked slightly green. I don't even know what a ptarmigan is, and I'm afraid to ask.

It's in the grouse family, Joshua told him impatiently. Anything else? he asked Lucio.

Well, let me see He silently checked in with Ginger to see if it was all right to continue. She smiled at him, though she felt slightly green around the gills. Lucio seemed reenergized with the go-ahead. Boiled fish eyeballs off the coast of Mexico. Ants in Zimbabwe. Fried sheep testicles in Iowa.

Whoa, Joshua said.

Okay, I think we get the picture, Jason said, swallowing hard.

Ginger sighed. That certainly explains why you thought my enchiladas were extravagant, she said.

Everyone laughed.

The boys wanted to know more about Lucio's work at Geographica magazinewhere he'd studied photography, how he'd been hired, the kinds of stories he photographed, and his favorite adventures.

Lucio talked a long while before he told the boys he had a thousand stories, and that he'd share more later. But he said there was one thing he wanted them to understand. The job of a nature photographer used to be to capture the wonder and beauty our world has to offer, but lately the job is to capture it one last time before it is gone forever. It is the only story worth telling these days, but still, few people want to listen.

I do, Joshua said, his face solemn.

Then we will have much to talk about, Lucio said, smiling at him.

So why is it you came back to the States? Jason asked.

With that last question, Ginger noticed Lucio's demeanor grow even more serious. His shoulders, usually level and held high, dipped under the weight of the topic.

I ran into some legal and political problems in China, and had to come back to the States to try to sort it all out.

What happened? Ginger asked. Lucio shut his eyes, which made her momentarily regret her inquiry. I'm sorry for asking thatit isn't any of our business. You don't have to answer.

Lucio's eyes opened and he locked his gaze on hers. His dark irises swirled with emotion. Oh, but I have nothing to hide. I have done nothing wrong. He turned to the boys. Someone took my raw video footage and delivered it to the Chinese government, then managed to submit several false expense claims on my magazine account. They even forged my signature. Lucio shrugged and looked at Ginger again. I was accused of spying and stealing. I got kicked out of the country and lost my Geographica contract.

Ginger's spine straightened. The boys looked excited.

So you're a spy? Joshua asked, practically drooling at the prospect of having a secret agent at their dining room table.

Lucio laughed. I just take pictures. And I'm not a thief, either, though no one seems to believe me. So now I must pay back the money and start again.

Do you know who did it? Joshua asked.

I have a few ideas, and someday soon my name will be cleared.

With that offhand comment, the events of the last few weeks began to make sense to Ginger. This was why Lucio had suddenly decided to switch to pet portraitshe needed the money. The concept may have originated as a pickup line at Rick and Josie's wedding, but now Lucio was desperate. That's why he had showed up at her house a couple weeks ago. It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him making a few bucks.

Uggghhh. Ginger's tasty enchiladas had suddenly turned to rock in her belly. Men! Who was she fooling? Lucio Montevez was not one of the point-one percent of decent men left in the world. He was just like all the others.

Ginger began to stack plates and silverware to clear the table.

I will do this, Lucio said. Please, bonita. You have done too much already. She watched as Lucio took HeatherLynn in his arms and rose from his chair. He walked through to the living room and headed right toward the dog's bed by the fireplace. He placed her on her pillow, as if he'd done it a million times before.

How did he know to do that?

We'll help, Jason said, and the boys jumped up and followed Lucio into the kitchen, stacks of dishes in their hands.

Ginger sat alone at the table, trying to get her mind to sort out all the inconsistencies. Okay, she could believe Lucio wasn't a spy or a thief. She'd give him that much. And she believed he was who he said he was, because Rick Rousseau was his friend, and Rick was the most stand-up guy she'd ever encountered.

And the boys sure seemed to like him.

And HeatherLynn obviously loved him.

But what, exactly, was happening between the two of themLucio and Ginger? That was where it got muddled.

She'd allowed herself to believe there really was something to the feelings she had for him. She'd let herself think his kiss and caress delivered such a thrill because he was special. She really thought all the heat and passion she felt were somehow linked to destiny. She'd considered the possibility that he'd been waiting for her, just as Mrs. Needleman had predicted.

But what if all that sexy sweetness was an act, a sales pitch? A sales pitch from a desperate guy prone to stretching the truth?

The sound of her boys' laughter jarred her from her thoughts. Ginger rose from the table and peeked around the pocket doors that were open to the kitchen. Lucio was elbow-deep in a sink full of suds, scrubbing out the casserole pan. The boys were loading the dishwasher, continuing their barrage of questions, including one from Jason about whether he could work as Lucio's assistant.