Mexican Nights (5 page)

He pulled a sheaf of papers from the hip pocket of his close-fitting denim trousers. "The poor girl is overworked. I happened to step into the hall just as she was approaching your door. Since I was coming here anyway, I offered to take your tray." He waved the papers at her. "I even tipped her, for which you might show a little gratitude."

Terri buttered a piece of toast and ignored him. He did not seem to notice that he was being ignored, nor that she was so scantily dressed. Probably he was used to seeing ladies in even less.

"My article on the calendar stone," he informed her, sitting down on the edge of her bed and holding the papers where she could see the photograph accompanying the article.

"Must we have lessons before breakfast?" she murmured crossly. "On Sunday, too."

"Oh, is this Sunday?" He had turned to look at her with a false look of Innocence on his tanned face—false because an innocent would not have let his glance stray along her neck and across her upper body in that suggestive way. Terri looked down self-consciously at the thin knit material that seemed to be clinging to every curve and line of her body. Then she raised blue eyes to meet dark liquid ones.

"You were going to tell me about the calendar stone," she quavered, reaching for the coffeepot once more, pretending that her mind was still on breakfast when all the time it was churning out shocking images like a runaway movie projector.

He cleared his throat. "Right—" The word was almost a growl. "What do you know about it?"

"Very little," she admitted in a small voice.

"You are aware, at least, that this is the face of Tonathiua, the sun god, in the center?"

"Vicious-looking creature, isn't he?" Terri ventured. "With his tongue lolling out like that. No doubt he's thirsting for human blood."

"Exactly." Derek brightened as if she'd said something intelligent for a change. "These four squares around his face probably represent the four seasons as well as the four different destructions that, according to Aztec legend, the world had suffered in the dim past—destruction by wild animals, wind, fire, and flood."

Terri was becoming intrigued in spite of herself. "What are the smaller squares in the next circle?"

"Those represent the twenty days of the Aztec month. The Aztec year consisted of eighteen months of twenty days each. That comes to 360 days, to which were added these five dots here—do you see?—which were sacrificial days."

Terri set her coffee cup aside and indicated eight angles at intervals around the next circle. "And these?" She had momentarily forgotten her self-consciousness—until, in gesturing, her hand brushed against Derek's long fingers. The effect was galvanic—invisible sparks sizzled between them, causing her to snatch back trembling fingers.

"The sun's rays at the eight points of the compass." He continued, but his tone was overly pedantic, as if he were mocking her. Of course, he knew exactly how unsure he made her feel. What was he doing sitting on her bed, anyway, and she still in her nightgown? Angrily, she tugged the sheet more tightly about her waist. Jack had wanted to come in last night, but she had been fully dressed then—and he had at least waited to be invited.

"The Aztecs had a perfect conception of orientation and built their cities according to the compass." Derek sounded abruptly serious, one long finger touching the bottom of the monolith where two ferocious serpents' heads faced each other. "These snakes were called in Aztec 'Xiuhcoatl.' You see, they have trunks like elephants and front legs like jaguars. Those are flames carved along the snakes' bodies, which is why they are called fire snakes. Some scholars think the flames represent fifty-two-year cycles."

Terri measured out her breath slowly, trying to concentrate on what he was saying. It was well nigh impossible to think about the calendar stone when he was sitting so close to her, smelling so deliciously of a musky after-shave—the world-famous writer and respected scholar. But it wasn't his scholarship that was making her chest feel as if it were collapsing.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Dark eyes gazed down on her. Could he sense the disturbing emotions he was rousing in her? Undoubtedly.

"It's almost as if they were obsessed with time." Her words came out unevenly, and a vein throbbed achingly in her temple.

"An astute observation."

She brushed at a few toast crumbs on the sheet, aware that he was watching her carefully out of the corner of his eye. The papers held in his hand crackled. "These holes on the edge held horizontal sticks that projected their shadows on the figures of the calendar. The stone was also used as a sun dial."

She continued to nod, wishing he would end this exquisite torture. He was so solid, so masculine, so full of a dark, mysterious force that seemed to reach out to Terri, calling to the deep throbbing in her blood. He affected her in ways that she had never felt with any other man, and she despised him for it! She wanted only to finish this assignment and go home. She realized suddenly that he was still talking, saying something that she had not heard. He was looking at her curiously.

"There is something you don't understand?"

How true! thought Terri, trying to appear studiously intent upon the article he held in his hand. She said the first thing that drifted into her mind. "You admire the Aztecs very much, don't you?"

"Of course," he said, as if he were thinking, "doesn't everybody? Their knowledge of astronomy and mathematics was amazing for the era in which they lived."

"Yet you could hardly call them civilized!" For some reason she felt a need to disagree with him—about anything.

"Oh?" He paused, the knowing eyes caressing her face, her tousled hair, the hollow at the base of her neck. When his gaze returned to her flushed face, he shrugged. "It depends on your idea of what is civilized, I suppose." He made a sudden movement and she started violently the second before she realized he only intended to lay the folded article on the bedside table. Oh, why was she behaving like such a shrinking violet? She wished for the earth to open and swallow her.

He grinned devilishly. "What is your definition of civilized, Terri?"

"You're making fun of me, aren't you!" How dare he look at her with that suggestive leer.

"Not at all. I'd like to know what you think. We ought to get to know each other better since we will be working so closely for some time."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't call a society based on human sacrifice civilized!"

"Ah, yes, there's that one thing."

"That one thing! Tearing out people's hearts while they're still alive—" She was almost overcome with feeling. "How can you admire a culture that engaged in such acts?"

His grin broadened. He was enjoying her disgust! "There are those who say they particularly liked to sacrifice virgins." He shifted so that his hand rested lightly against her sheet-covered leg. Was it accidental? "Fortunately, the Aztecs are no longer in control in Mexico." She was staring at his hand, but she could feel his eyes burning into her and realized suddenly the mocking implication in his last remark. A long, silent moment spun out between them, a moment vibrating with possibilities. She could not bring herself to meet his look. "But," he went on after a moment, "you must see the Aztecs in their own environment. This is a harsh land. Life—especially in those days—was precarious at best. Precarious and short. The sacrifices were a desperate attempt to gain a reprieve from whatever gods that be. Generally, the Aztecs had a sensible attitude toward their lot."

"What?" Terri had stared at his brown hand on the white sheet so long that it began to blur. She blinked, knowing that she had to get him out of the room somehow—had to get him out before something happened that she would learn to regret.

"They lived whatever life they had with vigor—with passion, Terri." The words were spoken softly, insinuatingly. "We could take a lesson from them. Life is still uncertain and fleeting." His hand moved slowly on her leg. "You are young and probably do not believe that yet, but you shouldn't waste such youth and beauty." The strong hand was lifted then and came to rest on her face. Supple fingers caressed her cheek, her neck, the sloping line of her shoulder.

She sat unmoving as if she were hypnotized. His other hand went to her chin, tilting her face up so that she was forced to look into his eyes. She felt paralyzed, or perhaps bound by invisible cords so that she could not move—perversely, did not even want to move.

Wings of fear fluttered inside her—and something else—a wanting. Wanting? What did she want? She didn't know. But she had to stop him. She moved suddenly, raising one hand to brush away his caressing fingers, which were straying toward the scooped-out neck of her gown.

He caught her hand and held it, not tightly but securely nevertheless. He gazed deeply into her eyes until she felt as if she were drowning in brown depths. "Relax, Terri. You can learn many things from me."

She caught her breath. He was still talking about the Aztecs, wasn't he? No, he wasn't! All at once she recognized the wicked light in his eyes.

"No!" She struggled to break his grip on her hand. "I don't want to learn anything from you." Her hand came free and she grabbed hold of the sheet, puffing it up to her chin. "Leave me alone!"

Still, he did not move to leave. Instead, he leaned closer, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her knees. "What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid!" Hah! That was a laugh! She was absolutely petrified.

Suddenly, he gripped her shoulder with one hand, and Terri had no strength to break free. Then one finger of the other hand traced the outline of her lips.

Somehow Terri managed to gather breath enough to croak, "Don't. I don't like you touching me."

"Really?" He pulled her toward him. "You're a terrible liar, Terri."

They stared into each other's eyes for what seemed to Terri an eternity, their faces only inches apart. "You want me to touch you. Admit it, Terri. Say that you want it as much as I do."

She would not! She would tell him to get out, never to come near her again! But the words stuck in her throat. She was mesmerized by those dark eyes. His face was coming closer. She hated being so helpless. How could she allow a man she despised to touch her like this? His hands were roaming over her back now, exploring where her bra would have been, had she been wearing one. Then one hand moved up to cup the back of her head, and the other moved lower to pull her against him. She closed her eyes as his lips came down on hers—but lightly, exploring tentatively, moving gently against hers like feathers that sent shivers down her spine.

Her brain spun with a feeling that she imagined must be close to drunkenness. Without her even knowing when she moved, somehow her arms had crept around his neck. He raised his head to look down at her. "You see how nice it can be to let go?"

Her lips tingled and she realized with horror that she wanted him to kiss her again—and again and again. She
wanted
him to! Her reeling senses suddenly snapped back into focus and she snatched her arms from around him, clasping the traitorous hands together tightly in her lap. He could take her breath away with his hands and his lips—and he felt nothing! He couldn't have felt anything or those dark eyes wouldn't be twinkling with amusement like that.

He smoothed the tumbling waves back from her forehead, an enigmatic smile curving his lips. "Let's get to work now."

Just like that? Work now—and later what? Terri was suddenly overcome with self-loathing. How easily she had melted. He only had to touch her, kiss her once. Well, it wouldn't happen again. Henceforth their relationship would be strictly professional. She would do her job—within sensible limits—but he might as well learn right now that she had no intention of being at his beck and call, even professionally, at whatever hour struck his whim.

"I've made plans to spend the afternoon with Jack and Mike," she announced. "We're going sightseeing."

A scowl drew two black brows together. "That will not be possible." The big-shot author was back, issuing orders. "I've sent Jack to the library and Mike is typing up some of my notes. It's a good time for you and me to go to Teotihuacán de Arista."

Her chin jutted defiantly. "A good time for you, maybe. I have other ideas."

He stood beside the bed, looking down at her with monumental condescension. "Of course, if you're not up to working today, perhaps yon should stay in bed and try to get your strength back."

She threw aside the sheet and scrambled to her feet, blue eyes flashing. "I can work as hard and as long as you can—any day in the week!"

"Good," he countered, striding for the door. "I'll meet you in the lobby in half an hour."

He was gone. Terri snatched up the plastic tray cover and threw it at the closed door. "I won't be there for at least forty-five minutes!"

Belatedly, she was amazed at herself. She was behaving like a shrew! No man had ever caused her so totally to lose her composure. No man but Derek Storm. She turned to stare at her rumpled reflection in the dresser mirror. It was as if a stranger stared back at her.