The Bride Tamer (12 page)

He stopped, resting for a while. Then he began again, grabbing her hips hard and thrusting with such powerful force that she came again and again. Afterward, she went limp and began to weep, clinging to his neck.

She placed her head beside his on the pillow and he brushed
her damp hair out of her eyes. “It isn't over. Not nearly,” he murmured, whispering love words in languages she did not understand.

“I dreamed about this,” she said. “The first night…that's why I decided to swim. Then you had to go and take off your clothes. And now here we are just like in my dream…me on top of you.”

He laughed. “It's my turn to be on top.”

“I'm too tired.”

“Why, love? When I'm doing all the work.”

“How dare you call making love to me work?”

“Can I help it if I enjoy my work?” Laughing, he rolled them over and began to make love to her slowly. His lips suckled each nipple. Shuddering like a wanton, she came again and again, weeping afterward each time.

“Why are you crying?” he whispered in a deep, concerned tone.

“Does there always have to be a reason.” He was too wonderful. What had she done to deserve anyone so wonderful?

“You're getting ahead of me, wild thing,” he teased when she lay back down beside him, curled into a sensual, boneless puddle.

“I'm embarrassing myself, that's what I'm doing. I didn't want you to know how much I wanted you.”

“I knew. I think that was always a big part of your appeal.”

She wrapped her arms around him and he entered her again. “You're deliciously wet,” he said.

This time he held nothing back. With a guttural cry he came, deep inside her, and she locked her legs around him and held him fast, never wanting to let him go.

Afterward, she thought maybe he would make love to her again, but he just lay there holding her, stroking her back, while she combed his beautiful black hair with her fingers.

She would have fallen asleep without a single guilty qualm, if only her cell phone hadn't rung.

She said, “Don't answer it.”

“We can't hide forever,” he said.

It stopped ringing, and she snuggled closer to him, but after a minute or two it rang again.

With a groan he got up. More than anything, she wanted to call him back to bed, to hold on to this precious time they'd shared.

“Hello, Isabela,” he murmured casually before falling silent for a while. His deep, melodious voice grew concerned. “Yes, I'm afraid you'd better send a wrecker as well as a cab for us. Eusebio ran off last night, and the Suburban won't start. Yes, yes, we're fine…don't worry about us. She's fine.”

Vivian cringed guiltily.

“I'll put her on,” he said, “so she can give you the necessary directions.”

“No! No, I can't possibly talk to her now!” Vivian whispered urgently.

He leaned over and kissed her brow. “I'm sorry, but we can't avoid this.”

When she nodded, he handed her the phone.

Vivian took the phone, which felt icy to the touch.

“Isabela,
querida
—”

I
n spite of the heat in the back seat of the cab of the wrecker, Vivian's shaking hand at her throat felt cool and lifeless. Her head ached from the strain of her tense conversation with Isabela.

She turned and stared out the back window. Cash's head and broad shoulders were in her line of vision. He was working even harder than Eusebio, who had finally returned, and the other laborers to attach the Suburban to the wrecker. Every time he braced a brown hand against the sides of the vehicle and shoved, his muscles strained, causing Vivian's heart to beat strangely.

Guilt over Isabela coupled with her desire for him had her totally confused.

She needed to talk to him. She needed to sort this out.

Other than the blue sky, the dense humidity and the countryside seeming cleansed and somehow greener, there was barely any sign there had been a storm. The limestone earth had soaked up the deluge like a sponge.

She leaned forward and caught a glimpse of her flushed, wide-eyed face in the mirror. Unless she confessed, would
Isabela, who trusted her, even see? Vivian touched her cheek in wonder. Were all traces of the passion she'd felt this morning erased, at least from the surface? She knew her heart, however, would never be the same.

Vivian wiped her perspiring brow and turned away to stare at the jungle. Isabela didn't deserve to be hurt.

She felt torn too, because her feelings for Cash ran deeper than any she'd ever felt for anyone. She would never forget him. Her hands knotted the thick black fabric on her knees. No way did a divorcée who was a college dropout deserve a man like him.

Finally the men finished and Cash tipped each of them. Eusebio climbed into the wrecker's truck, and Cash slid unsmilingly into the back seat with her. Like her, he kept to his side of the cab and stared out his window, his stiff posture and the tight line of his mouth telling her he wasn't any happier with himself than she was with herself.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, once they were speeding toward the outskirts of the village. “So terribly sorry…for ruining everything.”

He turned. His face was dark, his green eyes brilliant and bleak. Suddenly the quiet felt ominous in the cab.

“Will you ever forgive me?” she asked. “Will she?”

“Is that really the issue?”

She swallowed. Turning, she stared at the blur of tropical green foliage. She put her hand to her perspiring temple and felt the hammer of her pulse beneath her fingertips. She felt as dazed as a sleepwalker waking from a bad dream. And yet…

“I don't understand,” she said at last.

“Don't you?”

She bit her lip again. Everything looked the same as yesterday—the dense foliage, the stone
albaradas,
these walls that had no cement, and yet the familiar village felt alien and unreal. The giant thatched huts that look liked beehives rushing past them were as quaint as ever. So were the Mayan
women she taught, who were wearing their immaculate white, embroidered dresses and standing in front of their houses to wave goodbye to them as their two-vehicle parade passed.

“You want to just pretend it never happened, don't you,” he said. “We never saw each other naked. We never kissed. We never told each other the stories of our lives.” His voice deepened. “We never made love…. You even want to act like we don't feel the way we do.”

His tension and his unhappy, shadowed eyes made her ache for the kind and gentle lover who'd been so wonderful to her in bed. But he belonged with a woman from his own class—someone richer, more accomplished and sophisticated.

“I wish it had never happened,” she said.

“Damn you for that lie.”

She knotted her fingers. When he reached for her hand, she pulled it behind her and held it there, keeping it balled into a tight fist.

For a while they drove in a silence that grew so thick and oppressive, she was almost glad when he spoke again.

“What are those three-foot-high metal racks over there?” he murmured, his voice astonishingly soft and deep, the husky sound sending a chill through her because it was so impersonal now.

“Over there!” he persisted gently when she stiffened, refusing to be drawn into conversation. “The ones that look like rusting bedsprings?”

When she still didn't answer, he nudged her arm. “Can't we even talk to each other about safe subjects?”

Against her will, her body responded to the warmth of his hand. Instead of showing it, however, she scooted as far from him as she could.

“The rusting bedsprings,” he repeated. “What are they?”

He was driving her crazy. She wanted to ignore him. She had to ignore him. Stubbornly, she thrust her chin out and bit her lips.

“We didn't commit murder. We made love,” he said. “And now—”

She didn't want to talk about now. There was no now. Better to talk about the
henequen
plantations.

“All right. All right.” Her voice caught and she made a little choking sound. “That's where they used to dry the
henequen,
” she mumbled, looking before lowering her head and closing her eyes. “As if you could possibly care.”

“I care.”

“Don't.”

After that, she only spoke to him when Cash asked her a direct question about the big houses in ruins or the ancient machinery on the
henequen
plantations.

Finally, she blurted, “Quit asking me stupid, tourist questions. This is all wrong—you and me, together… Last night… Us… Trying to act like it meant something when you're supposed to marry Isabela.”

“It's you I want,” he said gently.

“You can't change your mind just because…”

When he wouldn't stop shaking his head, she moaned. “I'll hate me forever for ruining her chances with you.”

“Why? It just happened. You came into my bedroom and stripped. You were beautiful—like a dream—but it wasn't a dream. I like you as a person. You changed my life.”

“Right. Blame me.” She was being crazy, difficult, impossible, but she couldn't help it. Her life had turned upside down, and she didn't know what to do about it.

This was all her fault. She should have checked on that water pipe the night he arrived. It took weeks, dozens of conversations to get anything repaired down here. She'd known that.

“Isabela's wonderful, and I've betrayed her,” Vivian said. “I'm a thousand times worse than Julio! I can't believe I'm this horrible person! Can't you pretend this never happened and go back to courting her?”

“Then it would be me who was worse than Julio.”

“You can do it. You're a man.”

“Great,” he snarled. “I've fallen for a crazy woman.”

“She's everything you said you wanted. We discussed this. You said you could plan out your life.”

“And then I met you—crazy, wonderful you.”

“Last night was just sex.”

“Then why are you so damn mad about it? And why do I feel the way I do about you?”

“We'll get over it.”

“This conversation is getting ridiculous,” he said.

“I was supposed to play fairy godmother. I was supposed to get you to like her more. I don't have a clue what to do next.”

“We run away together and make love for a week in a thatched hut by the sea until we can't do it another time.”

“No!”

“Then we tell Isabela the truth.”

She moaned.

“Then I'll tell her, since you're so afraid of her.”

“I'm not afraid. I'm—”

“You're confused,” he said gently, edging closer. “And so am I.”

When his hand touched her arm, she shuddered.

“No, I have to tell her myself,” she said. “And since I'm going to tell her the truth, I might as well level with you.”

Finally knowing what she had to do, she turned toward him, and his dear, dark, handsome face struck her like a blow. Feeling sick and empty even before she spoke, she blurted it out anyway.

“Isabela bribed me to entertain you. She said if I got you to propose, she'd take me with her when she moved to the States. That's why I came.” She hesitated. “I don't know why I slept with you. But I know I'm not right for you. It was just something crazy that happened because I'm scared of rep—amphibians.”

“Do you have to talk so damn much?”

“All I wanted was an airplane ticket and enough money for a fresh start.”

“Really? So all that fire and light and love was just for money?”

It was a ridiculous lie. Anybody could see through it, but her stubborn streak took over, and she stuck to it. She sighed.

“I guess I got carried away.”

“You damn sure did. So—all you want now is a ticket home and money for a fresh start?”

She locked her eyes on his dark face and nodded.

He drew a slow breath. “Well, you were worth every penny. If Isabela doesn't come through with the ticket, I damn sure will.”

 

When the driver of the wrecker drove into the carport, Cash and Vivian had long since quit speaking. Miguelito, wearing wet swimming trunks, ran to greet them. Concho leapt up, barking, his tail thumping excitedly.

“Why didn't you come home, Mommy?
Tía
was screaming and crying. Papacito even called the police.” Miguelito smiled. “But the police were too busy to come.”

“Thank goodness.” As she knelt, he took her hands and held on tightly. “There was a storm, my darling. We hit a wall.”

“Were you hurt?” Miguelito's troubled black eyes were huge.

She shook her head and drew him closer.

“She was with me. She was fine,” Cash said.

Vivian wrapped her child in her arms and hugged him fiercely. Moments later a gate slammed, and Julio strode into the carport.

“Miguelito! There you are. You're not supposed to run off without telling Papacito, where—”

“He's with me,” Vivian said.

“Vivi!” Then Julio saw Cash. “I see,” he murmured, his voice thick with insolence and innuendo.

Vivian lowered her eyes. “Not in front of Miguelito.”

“Isabela went crazy last night,” Julio said.

Vivian said nothing.

“I was worried sick about you, too,” Julio persisted.

“As you see—I'm fine.”

“Julio?” Tammy yelled from the other side of the wall.

“In the carport,
querida!
” Julio responded.

“We were in an accident,” Cash said matter-of-factly. “The phones were out. We got back as soon as we could. Period.”

She could feel the heat of Julio's eyes burning her face. She had to get Miguelito away before Julio erupted.

Tammy ran into the carport in a minuscule black bikini, water dripping down her long, golden legs.

“Take Miguelito back to the pool,” Julio said.

“Thank you,” Vivian said, as Tammy took the child and led him away.

“You come here to see my sister, Mr. Cash McRay, but you stay out all night with my wife.”

Cash's mouth thinned. “She divorced you, remember?”

“Isabela is my sister. Vivi is the mother of my son. Vivi's vulnerable. She's family.”

Vivian winced at Julio's high-handedness.

“She's all those things…and more,” Cash said.

“I don't want you using her and hurting her. You're rich and famous. You overpower her better judgment.”

“Give her a little credit,” Cash said.

“Stop it. I won't have you discussing me like this!”

To her surprise they obeyed her. When she was sure the conversation was over, she left them to check on Miguelito.

Miguelito beamed happily when he saw her, and she smiled too.

“Watch me dive,” he said.

“Don't run—”

Of course, he forgot and ran, and she had to tell him again.

A few minutes later Cash stopped by the pool. His eyes
were dark and his mouth still grim as he sat down in one of the heavy teak chairs beside her.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he said.

Her eyes on Miguelito, she leaned forward. He ran onto the diving board and began to jump up and down before he got to the end. He was so excited he wasn't concentrating on what he was doing.

“Watch me,” he screamed as he leaned over the water, arms out in front, fingers pointed.

“I had a wonderful time with you,” Cash said. “No matter what kind of woman you think I want, you are special—at least to me.”

So are you.
Cash's face was so classically chiseled it might have been one of the Mayan gods. Her stomach tightened, and she turned, squinting against the glare.

“Please—just leave me alone. I have a little boy…a little life.”

“I have no life without you.”

“You got laid. You're wealthy and attractive. You can have any girl. So big deal.”

“You're not watching me!” Miguelito yelled, bouncing higher than he ever had before.

“Just go,” she continued. “I'll tell Isabela that I seduced you. That it wasn't your fault. I'll let you off easy.”

“Do you ever listen? You're the first real thing that's happened to me in a long time,” he said. “I think I'm falling in love with you.”

Falling in love—

She made a soft, almost inaudible sound. Julio had used those same words so easily, and she'd fallen for them hard.

Somehow she resisted the urge to throw herself into his arms and kiss him senseless. She had to be smarter this time. She had to do what was right for all of them.

“It was a dream,” she said. “And dreams can't last. Isabela's the kind of woman you should marry.”

“Do you ever listen? I repeat—she's not right for me.”

“Do
you
listen? I love Isabela like a sister,” Vivian said.

“I know. That's how I probably love her too.”