Enamored (11 page)

Diego stole her thunder neatly by suggesting that the boy bunk down with her. It was only for the one night, because there were four bedrooms in the Chicago apartment. Matt would have his own room. Yes, Melissa thought, and that’s when the trouble would really start, because she and Matt had been forced to share a room. She could only afford a tiny efficiency apartment with a sofa that folded out to make a bed. Matt wasn’t used to being alone at night, and she wondered how they were going to cope.

But she didn’t want to borrow trouble. She was tired and nervous and apprehensive, and there was worse to come. She closed her eyes and went to sleep. And she didn’t dream.

The next morning, they left for Chicago. Despite the comfort of the chartered Lear jet, Melissa was still sore and uncomfortable. She had her medicine, and the attending physician at the hospital had referred her to a doctor in Chicago in case she had any complications. If only she could sit back and enjoy the flight the way Matthew was, she thought, watching his animated young face as he peered out the window and asked a hundred questions about airplanes and Chicago. Diego unbent enough to answer a few of them, although he did it with faint reluctance. But Matt seemed determined now to win him over, and Diego wasn’t all that distant this morning.

Back in the old days in Guatemala, Melissa had never thought about the kind of father Diego would make. In her world of daydreams, romance had been her only concern, not the day-to-day life that a man and a woman had to concern themselves with after the wildness of infatuation wore off. Now, watching her son with his father, she realized that Diego really liked children. He was patient with Matthew, treating each new question as if it were of the utmost importance. He hadn’t completely gotten over the shock of the child, she knew, and there was some reserve in him when he was with this boy he thought was another man’s son. But he was polite to the child, and once or twice he actually seemed amused by Matt’s excitement.

He was the soul of courtesy, but Melissa couldn’t help thinking he’d much rather be traveling alone. Nevertheless, he carried her off the plane and to a waiting limousine for the trip to the Lincoln Park apartment he maintained, and she had to grind her teeth to keep from reaching up and kissing his hard, very masculine mouth as he held her. She hoped he didn’t see how powerfully his nearness affected her. She was still vulnerable, even after all the years apart, but she didn’t dare let him see it. She couldn’t let him destroy her pride again as he had once before.

The apartment was a penthouse that overlooked the park and the shoreline, with the city skyline like a gray silhouette on the rainy horizon. Melissa was put to bed at once in one of the guest bedrooms and told to rest while Matthew explored the apartment and Diego introduced Melissa to Mrs. Albright, who was to do the babysitting as well as the cooking and cleaning. Apollo had recommended the pleasant, heavyset woman, and she’d been taking care of the apartment for Diego for over a year now.

Mrs. Albright was middle-aged and graying, with a sweet face and a personality to match. She took Melissa coffee and cake in bed and set about making her as comfortable as possible, insisting that she stay in bed to recuperate from the long flight. Then she took Matt off to the kitchen to spoil him with tiny homemade cream cakes and milk while she listened to his happy chatter about the flight from Tucson.

Once the boy and Melissa were settled, Diego picked up the phone and punched in a number.

Melissa heard him, but she couldn’t make out many of the words. It sounded as though he were speaking to Apollo, and in fact he was, because Apollo showed up at the apartment an hour later with a slender, petite black woman.

Diego introduced the tall, muscular black man in the gray suit. “This is Apollo Blain. Perhaps you remember him.” Apollo smiled and nodded, and Melissa smiled back. “And this is Joyce Latham, Apollo’s secretary.”

“Temporarily,” Apollo said with a curt nod in Joyce’s direction.

“That’s right, temporarily,” Joyce said in a lilting West Indian accent, glaring up at the tall man. “Just until the very second I can find anybody brave enough to take my place.”

Apollo glowered down at her. “Amen, sister,” he bit off. “And with any luck I’ll get somebody who can remember a damned telephone number long enough to dial it and who can file my clients alphabetically so I can find the files!”

“And maybe I’ll get a boss who can read!” Joyce shot back.

“Enough!” Diego laughed, getting between them. “Melissa has survived one disaster. She doesn’t need to be thrust into a new one,
por favor.
”

Apollo grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I got carried away.” He shot a speaking glance at Joyce.

“Me, too,” she muttered, shifting so that she was a little away from him. Her features weren’t pretty, but her eyes were lovely, as deep and black as a bottomless pool, and her coffee-with-cream complexion was blemishless. She had a nice figure, probably, but the floppy uninspired blue dress she was wearing hid that very well.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Melissa told the woman, smiling. “I remember Apollo from years ago, of course. How long have you worked for him?”

“Two weeks too long,” Joyce muttered.

“That’s right, two weeks and one day too long,” Apollo added. “Dutch and J.D. are coming over later, and Shirt says he and his missus are going to fly up to see you next week. It’ll be like a reunion.”

“I remember our last reunion,” Diego said, smiling faintly. “We were evicted from the suite we occupied at three in the morning.”

“And one of us was arrested,” Apollo said smugly.

“That so?” Joyce asked him. “How long did they keep you in jail?”

He glared. “Not me. Diego.”

“Diego?” Melissa stared at him in disbelief. The cool, careless man she knew wasn’t hotheaded enough to land himself in jail. But perhaps she didn’t really know him at all.

“He took exception to some remarks about his Latin heritage,” Apollo explained with a glance at Diego, whose expression gave nothing away. “The gentleman making the remarks was very big and very mean, and to make a long story short, Diego assisted the gentleman into the hotel swimming pool through a plate-glass window.”

“It was a long time ago.” Diego turned as Matthew came running into the room.

“You have to come see my drawing, Mama,” the boy said urgently, tugging at his mother’s hand. “I drew a puppy dog and a bee! Come look!”

“Momento,
Matthew,” Diego said firmly, holding the boy still. He introduced the visitors, who smiled down warmly at the child. “You can show your drawings to Mama in a moment, when our visitors have gone, all right, little one?”

“All right.” Matthew sighed. He smiled at his mama and went shyly past the visitors and back to his crayons.

Apollo said, “He’s a mirror image of you…” The last word trailed away under the black fury of Diego’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “Well, we’d better get back to work. We’ll be over with the others tonight. But we won’t stay long. We don’t want to wear out the missus, and don’t lay on food. Just drinks. Okay?”

“And we’ll come in separate cars next time,” Joyce grumbled, darting a glance at the black man. “His idea of city driving is to aim the car and close his eyes.”

“I could drive if you could stop putting your hands over your eyes and making those noises,” he shot back.

“I was trying to say my prayers!”

“See you later,” Apollo told Melissa and Diego. He took Joyce by the arm and half led, half dragged her out of the apartment.

“Don’t they make a sweet couple?” Melissa murmured dryly when they’d gone. “I wonder if they both carry life insurance…?”

Diego smiled faintly at the mischief in her eyes. “An interesting observation, Señora Laremos. Now, if there is nothing I can do for you, you can praise your son’s art while I get back to work.”

Her pale gray eyes searched his face, looking for revelations, but there were none in that stony countenance. “It offended you that Apollo mentioned a resemblance.”

“The boy’s father obviously had some Ladino blood,” he countered without expression. He put his hands in his pockets, and his black eyes narrowed. “You will not divulge your lover’s identity, even now?”

“Why should it matter to you?” she asked. “I had the impression when I left Guatemala that it would be too soon if you never saw me again.”

“I tried to talk to you at the time. You would not listen, so I assumed that my feelings would have no effect on you.”

“Do you have any feelings?” she asked suddenly. “My father said once that if you did it would take dynamite to get to them.”

He stood watching her, his slightly wavy black hair thick and clean where it shone in the light, his eyes watchful. “Considering the line of work I was in, Melissa, is that so surprising? I could not afford the luxury of giving in to my emotions. It has been both a protection and a curse in later years. Perhaps if I had not been so reticent with you the past five years would not have been wasted.”

Her pulse jumped, but she kept her expression calm so he wouldn’t see how his words affected her. “I understood,” she replied. “Even though I was young, I wasn’t stupid.”

“Had you no idea what would happen when you led me into that sweet trap, Melissa?” he asked with a bitter laugh.

“It wasn’t a trap,” she said doggedly. “I’d written a lot of silly love poems and scribbled some brazen note to you that I meant to destroy. I’d never have had the nerve to send it to you.” She colored faintly at the memory. “I tried to tell you, and my father, that it was a mistake, but neither of you would listen.” Her fingers toyed with the hem of her pink blouse. “I loved you,” she said under her breath. Her eyes were closed, and she missed the expression that washed over his face. “I loved you more than my own life, and Dad was on the verge of sending me away to college. I knew that I’d never see you again. Every second I had with you was precious, and that’s why I gave in. It wasn’t planned, and it wasn’t meant to be a trap.” She laughed coldly. “The irony of it all is that I was stupid enough to believe that you might come to love me if we lived together. But you left me with your family and went away, and when you came back and I tried so desperately to catch your attention—” She couldn’t go on. The memory of his contemptuous rejection was too vivid. She averted her eyes. “I knew then that I’d been living in a daydream. I had what I wanted, but through force, not through choice. Leaving was the first intelligent decision I made.”

He felt as if she’d hit him with a rock. “Are you telling me that you didn’t have marriage in mind?”

“Of course I had marriage in mind, but I never meant you to be forced into it!” she burst out, tears threatening in her eyes. “I loved you. I was twenty and there’d never been another man, and you were my world, Diego!”

His tall, elegant body tautened. He’d never let himself think about it, about what had motivated her. Perhaps, deep inside, he’d known all along how she felt but hadn’t been able to face it. He drew a thin cheroot from his pocket and lit it absently. “I went to see your father after he confirmed that you were still alive. He told me nothing, except that you despised me and that you never wanted to see me again.” He lifted his gaze and stared at her. “I was determined to hear that for myself, of course, so I kept searching. But to no avail.”

“I used my maiden name when I applied for United States citizenship,” she explained, “and I lived in big cities. After I was settled, I contacted my father and begged him not to let you know where I was. Later, when the attorney called and told me about my father’s death, I grieved. But I didn’t have enough money to go to the funeral. Even then, I pleaded with the lawyer not to reveal my whereabouts. I didn’t really think you’d come looking for me when you knew I’d—” she forced out the lie “—lost the baby, but I had to be sure.”

“You were my responsibility,” he said stiffly. “You still are. Our religion does not permit divorce.”

“My memory doesn’t permit reconciliation,” she said shortly. “I’ll stay here until I’m able to work again, but that’s all. I’m responsible for myself and my son. You have no place in my life, or in my heart, anymore.”

He fought back the surge of misery her statement engendered. “And Matthew?”

She pushed back her hair. “Matthew doesn’t concern you. He thinks you hate him, and he’s probably right. The sooner I get him away from here the better.”

He turned gracefully, staring hard at her. “Did you expect that I could accept him so easily? He is the very proof that your emotions were not involved when we were together. If you had loved me, Melissa, there could never have been another man. Never!”

And that was the crux of the entire problem, she thought. He didn’t realize that he was stating a fact. If he’d trusted her, he’d have known that she loved him too much to take a lover. But he didn’t trust her. He didn’t know her. He’d never made the effort to know her in any way except the physical.

She lay back on the pillows, exhausted. “I can’t fight, Diego. I’m too tired.”

He nodded. “I know. You need rest. We can talk when you are more fit.”

“I hope you didn’t expect me to fall in line like the little slave I used to be around you,” she said, lifting cold eyes to his.

“I like very much the way you are now,
niña,”
he said slowly, his accent even more pronounced than usual. His dark eyes smoldered as he drew them over her body. “A woman with fire in her veins is a more interesting proposition than a worshipful child.”

“You won’t start any fires with me,
señor,”
she said haughtily.

“¿Es verdad?”
He moved slowly to the bed and, leaning one long arm across her, stared into her eyes from scant inches away. “Be careful before you sling out challenges, my own,” he said in the deep, soft voice she remembered so well whispering Spanish love words in the silence of the Mayan ruins. “I might take you up on them.” He bent closer, and she could almost feel the hard warmth of his mouth against her parted lips, faintly smoky, teasing her mouth with the promise of the kisses she’d once starved for.

She made a sound deep in her throat, a tormented little sob, and turned her face against the pillow, closing her eyes tight. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, don’t!”