Pictures of You (11 page)
Authors: Barbara Delinsky
“What good will daylight do in the dark of the shafts?” Eva thought aloud, trying to follow his logic.
“Good question!” He smiled affectionately at her. “I asked Roberto the same question while we were still down there. It could clue us in on a particularly weak section in the upper level of the mine. In other words, if we see daylight we know we've got holes ⦠and trouble!”
Aware of the situation, Eva now shared the concern of the others. “I'm sorry, Paul. What will I be able to do?” She doubted that Roberto would let her get near the mine, let alone in it, lest she be in the way during the sensitive digging.
Paul would not presume to second-guess Roberto, so he responded lightly, “Right now, you can give me a hand with supper!” They silently walked together to the food supplies, where they set to work.
That evening the atmosphere within the group was one more of psychological fatigue than physical. Concern was evident on all faces, although there was enough excitement in anticipation to make the evening a pleasant one. Even Roberto's humor improved as the evening wore on.
Eva excused herself early, suspecting that the men would be less inhibited if she were not there, and she wanted some time to herself anyway. She headed in the direction of the waterfall that had given her so much pleasure earlier that evening. The moonlight had filtered through the foliage enough to sprinkle silver dust liberally over the cascading water.
Sitting down on a large rock out of range of the droplets, she concentrated on the hypnotic rhythm of the falls as her mind retraced her earlier conversation
with Paul. He had read her like a book, she mused. She had once told Roberto that Paul could be a best friend. Her instincts guided her well; she had confided in Paul as she would have confided in a best friend. Somehow she knew she could trust him to keep her secret. After all, he had betrayed nothing of Roberto's feelings, if indeed he knew them.
with Paul. He had read her like a book, she mused. She had once told Roberto that Paul could be a best friend. Her instincts guided her well; she had confided in Paul as she would have confided in a best friend. Somehow she knew she could trust him to keep her secret. After all, he had betrayed nothing of Roberto's feelings, if indeed he knew them.
What saddened Eva more than what Paul had said was what he had not said. When she had admitted her love for Roberto, Paul had made no comment on it. She had a mental list of the things he could have said. He could have told her that she was much too vulnerable at this point to think herself in love; there was some truth to that. He could have told her that Roberto was all wrong for her; instead he had just acknowledged the chemistry at work between them. He could have made excuses for Roberto, saying that he was too busy to settle down or too concerned about the expedition to care for Eva or perhaps that he was involved with someone somewhere else; Paul had offered no such excuses. He could have said that Roberto liked her; but then, Paul would never have betrayed that information, even if it was true, which it wasn't. For although Eva knew that she could physically arouse Roberto, she also knew that she aggravated him more often than not.
What did she really know of Roberto? What did he do during the rest of the year? She knew he had taken over his father's business, but what exactly did he do? This puzzled Evaâshe was in love with a man about whom she knew next to nothing. Her life had always been dominated by reason; now all of her theories about the mind ruling the body were being disproved. The feelings she had for Roberto had nothing to do with reason, yet she knew that they would be part of her forever.
Once again, as had happened the previous night, a
hand on her shoulder shattered her concentration, and she looked up half knowing that she would see Roberto standing above her. It was a repeat performance on a different stage, she thought, and she was still too raw from the last one to be able to handle another.
hand on her shoulder shattered her concentration, and she looked up half knowing that she would see Roberto standing above her. It was a repeat performance on a different stage, she thought, and she was still too raw from the last one to be able to handle another.
“I was just returning to camp,” she lied, jumping to her feet and moving forward until Roberto barred her way, his strong body firmly planted before her. He had withdrawn his hand from her shoulder when she had risen, and now stood with his arms folded across his broad chest.
“Don't let me frighten you off. You had no intention of going back just yet. I just wanted to talk. I think I owe you an apology.” The smile on his face, self-satisfied as it was at his own perceptiveness, fascinated her. And if he had an apology for her, she wanted to hear it.
“Go on,” she ordered, keeping her voice stern.
“I shouldn't have spoken to you in front of the others the way I did this afternoon. It was wrong of me. I'm sorry.” He seemed genuine enough, she thought.
But apology or not, her anger flared up at the reminder of the afternoon's humiliation. “You're damned right you owe me an apology! And I accept it. There was no reason why I couldn't have gone into the mine,” she snapped.
His eyebrow arched at her response. “You misunderstand me. I would never have let you go into the mine this afternoon, and I was right about that, knowing what we now know about its safeness. I apologize for embarrassing you in front of the others.”
“That figures,” she countered sarcastically, then her eyes widened in alarm as she understood his further meaning. “You mean that you won't allow me to go in at all tomorrow? Roberto, you can't do that to me!” she pleaded.
“I certainly can, and I will.” His dark eyes glared at her, daring her to argue. He was not disappointed.
“What gives you the right? I'm an adult. You don't have the authority to prevent me from doing what I want to do! Just who do you think you are?” She was approaching the boiling point, her hands on her slim hips, the flush of anger on her cheeks, her feet set in as firm a stance as his. She had no intention of budging.
Suddenly his face softened. A smile spread across his lips, his eyes narrowed with humor, sending laugh lines radiating from their corners to the crown of his cheekbones.
“You look terrific when you're angry! Maybe that's why I provoke you. It's so unusual to see a woman who stands up for things the way you do. You look very alive right now!”
“And you're trying to change the subject,” she retorted, her anger abating somewhat under the warming glow of his expression.
“No, I won't do that. And I won't let you go into the mine until I feel it is completely safe. I don't think I could live with myself if ⦠it's my responsibility, don't you see?” Now he was the one who was pleading, or as close as a man such as he could come to it, she thought. His concern did touch her, though she warned herself that it meant absolutely nothing.
He put his hands gently on her shoulders, sending an involuntary thrill through her, as he reassured, “I know how much it means to you to go into the mine. If it is at all possible, you will. Trust me?”
Of course she would trust him, she knew. She would trust him to the ends of the Earth with her life, she was that far gone! How could she fight him? Regardless of his motivation, he was protecting her in a way that she craved.
His touch was already upsetting her balance, and
that she did have to fight. Gazing down at the hands on her shoulders with a look of alarm, she backed out of his grasp and added without looking up, “I have to get back now.”
that she did have to fight. Gazing down at the hands on her shoulders with a look of alarm, she backed out of his grasp and added without looking up, “I have to get back now.”
He spoke quickly, extending his hands out to the sides in a clear hands-off gesture. “No, please stay. Talk with me for a while. I promise I won't touch you, if that's what you want.” His voice had lowered to a murmur at the last phrase, causing Eva to blush.
“Yes, that's what I want,” she insisted, refusing his backhanded invitation before she could be further tempted. And a sweet temptation it was! Eva had always known of the strong passion within her, but this man had awakened it with a ferocity which frightened her, even as it excited her.
Roberto repeated his initial request, sensing that she would still bolt if he challenged her. “Come and sit. Tell me about your life in New York.” He coaxed her softly, purposely seating himself first to let her choose her own distance. Eva could not turn down this more innocent invitation, as much as her better judgment told her to. She felt drawn too strongly to the man to deny herself the time with him, particularly given his gentlemanly assurance of pure conversation. She sat down a short distance from him, far enough to preclude physical contact yet close enough for easy conversation. She held herself stiffly, suddenly feeling awkward in the presence of this man whom she secretly loved. As always, he noticed her actions.
“Relax! I said I wouldn't touch you,” he offered gently, his velvety command having its desired effect. “What kind of work were you involved in when you packed up to come down here?”
Eva did relax, especially when he broached such an interesting and indeed neutral subject. “I work for a newspaper group and had been given an assignment to
photograph the old mansions in the area. Oh, I know it may sound dull to you,” she went on quickly, “but it's exactly what I most love doing.” Her eyes lit up in proof of her statement. “I love being in the houses, to begin with. They are so dignified, so rich in history, interesting in a way new houses never could be. You know, winding staircases, hidden niches.” She blushed at her own excitement. “I guess I'm a romantic at heart,” she added shyly.
photograph the old mansions in the area. Oh, I know it may sound dull to you,” she went on quickly, “but it's exactly what I most love doing.” Her eyes lit up in proof of her statement. “I love being in the houses, to begin with. They are so dignified, so rich in history, interesting in a way new houses never could be. You know, winding staircases, hidden niches.” She blushed at her own excitement. “I guess I'm a romantic at heart,” she added shyly.
“I know what you mean.”
About the houses or me,
Eva wondered. “Wasn't it difficult to photograph the dark interiors?” he went on.
About the houses or me,
Eva wondered. “Wasn't it difficult to photograph the dark interiors?” he went on.
“That's where the real challenge came in. You have to use wide-angle lenses and lots of floodlights. I was even going to try some light painting for eerie effects when ⦔ She paused but then realized she should finish what she'd begun, “ ⦠when Stu took sick.”
“Was your marriage a happy one?” His forwardness took her by surprise.
“Isn't that overstepping your bounds?” she snapped, pulling herself together quickly.
He responded softly, his expression so sincere that Eva melted once again. “I'm just curious. I won't hold it against you!” he teased.
Once more helpless to deny his request, she raised sad eyes to his. Speaking almost inaudibly, she began. “No. My marriage was not a happy one. It was a terrible mistake. I was all wrong for Stu. I couldn't make him happy. We disagreed about nearly everything. I guess I jumped into marriage at a vulnerable time for me. My parents had recently died; I felt very alone. Stu wanted me then. After the first few months we had very little to say to one another in a civil tone.” She lowered her eyes in shame. “But this is wrong of me to be saying. Stu is dead.”
Roberto broke in forcefully, “No, Eva, it needs to be
said. You can't keep it bottled up inside, or it will explode at some point ⦠maybe in the arms of a stranger.” The last he added in a lower, more husky tone of an afternoon remembered.
said. You can't keep it bottled up inside, or it will explode at some point ⦠maybe in the arms of a stranger.” The last he added in a lower, more husky tone of an afternoon remembered.
Color flooded onto Eva's cheeks at the memory, though mercifully the moonlight hid the extent of her embarrassment. “I usually am able to control myself,” she defended herself somewhat apologetically. “I'm afraid I made a fool of myself that day,” she added, half to herself.
Roberto had been watching her intently. Now he looked off in the distance as he flexed his denim-clad legs into a more comfortable position. Even in the moonlight Eva could see the rich outline of his shoulders straining against the fabric of his shirt and the sturdiness of his neck. She thought him, in that moment in the dim light, with his black hair and dark features at peace, the most handsome figure she had ever seen.
“No, Eva, you didn't make a fool of yourself. You merely discovered that you have weaknesses like the rest of us!”
Now it was Eva's turn to joke, albeit with a twist of seriousness. “And what are your weaknesses, Roberto?”
“My weaknesses?” he began with pretended pensiveness. “My major weakness right now seems to be an attractive young widow who turns me on!” His voice had taken on the huskiness which Eva now recognized as his own desire.
Annoyed as she was by the implication of his remark, she felt too close to success at getting him to talk about himself to object to his undertone. Instead, she totally ignored it and went on. “What kind of work do you do, Roberto, when you're not off hiking through the mountains?”
He smiled slyly, a twinkle of moonlight catching in
his eye as he glanced at her. “Taking a different tack, are you? Okay, I said we'd play by your rules.” He became more serious and hesitated, studying the cascading waterfall before answering in a steady, businesslike tone. “I own a coffee plantation just west of São Paulo. It's quite large and quite successful. It has led me into other business ventures. I've been fortunate.” There was an odd sense of resignation as he revealed this seemingly harmless information, and he paused and looked straight at Eva, as though expecting to catch some immediate reaction to his words. When she had none, he seemed puzzled but continued on. “I spend most of the year in Brazil but I do make frequent trips to the States for business and to visit ⦔
his eye as he glanced at her. “Taking a different tack, are you? Okay, I said we'd play by your rules.” He became more serious and hesitated, studying the cascading waterfall before answering in a steady, businesslike tone. “I own a coffee plantation just west of São Paulo. It's quite large and quite successful. It has led me into other business ventures. I've been fortunate.” There was an odd sense of resignation as he revealed this seemingly harmless information, and he paused and looked straight at Eva, as though expecting to catch some immediate reaction to his words. When she had none, he seemed puzzled but continued on. “I spend most of the year in Brazil but I do make frequent trips to the States for business and to visit ⦔
“Your mother?” she interrupted.
“Yes,” he replied with a tenderness of tone which touched Eva. “I don't get to see her as often as I'd like, but I try to whenever possible. She's alone now.”
“You seem very fond of her,” Eva probed, her innate curiosity getting the better of her.
“Of course I'm fond of her. She's my mother!” he snapped, his impatience at her pointed questions growing by the minute. “My mother is a fine person who had some rough breaks in life. I'm very close to her now ⦠though I spent my earliest years resenting her.” The last was said almost as an afterthought, tempering the anger which had crept into his voice. Bringing his thoughts back to the present, he continued, “In answer to your original question, I keep busy.”
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