The Unexpected Honeymoon

by Barbara Wallace

  A sign by the side of the road said they still had several kilometers before their exit. “Are you sure I’m not disrupting your afternoon?” she asked again.

  “I assure you, my plans are flexible. It’s far more important that you be happy.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are a guest,” he said, as though the answer were obvious.

  He seemed to play the “guest” card often around her. Was it his not-so-subtle way of telling her not to read anything into his actions? Larissa wondered if her attraction was that blatantly obvious. Probably.

  “Customer service is very important to you, isn’t it?” she said. “I don’t mean, simply because of recent events. It means a lot to you, what people think of your hotel.”

  “Because customers I can make happy.”

  “I don’t understand.” At first, she thought she heard wrong, he said the words so softly.

  “Lo siento. I mean that, yes, how people view our resort is very important. The hotel’s reputation is my reputation, and by extension, my family’s. Discredit the hotel, discredit the Chavez name.”

  That wasn’t what he said the first time, but she let the comment go. “My grandma used to say something similar, although it came out more like ‘I won’t have some high and mighty prom queen bitchin’ all over town that I don’t know how to sew.’”

  “Your grandmother sounds like a very astute woman.”

  “She had her moments. I think when you’re really good at your job, you can get away with being crotchety.”

  “And she was good?”

  “Best in town. The house was always full of gowns. On the backs of closets, the china cabinet doors—basically anywhere she could hang a hook. Other kids had posters hung in their room. I had bridesmaid gowns.”

  “No wonder you became such an expert on weddings.”

  “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right? Do you know how hard it was, not to play dress up when I was little? All those beautiful gowns belonging to other people. My grandmother would have had a fit if I so much as breathed on one.”

  Remembering how badly she’d wanted to have a dress to call her own, she felt a hollow feeling spread across her chest. Careful. That’s how you got in this mess. By wanting to belong.

  “My brother Pedro dressed up in one of our mother’s gowns once. My brothers and I never let him forget how pretty he looked.”

  Larissa smiled, both at the image and his attempt to lighten the mood. “Sounds like Delilah and me when our friend Chloe dyed her hair. We still tease her about looking like a wire-haired circus clown.”

  “Your friends...the three of you sound very close.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without them. They’re the closest thing I have to a family these—” Damn. It’d be too much to hope he didn’t catch her slip, wouldn’t it?

  “I didn’t realize your grandmother had passed. I’m sorry.”

  No, she was the one who was sorry, because the whole story was more pathetic. “We’d stopped talking long before, so it wasn’t a huge loss.”

  “I’m sorry. Did you have a fight?”

  “Not really. Once I turned eighteen, she um...well, she sort of retired.”

  “From dressmaking.”

  “From raising me.” She cringed knowing what he must be thinking. A man like him from a large, established family. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. After all, I’d left Texas behind, so why shouldn’t she leave me? After all, she’d already had to raise two generations on her own.” Wasn’t her grandmother’s fault time had wrung out the best of her.

  “What about the rest of your family?”

  Ah, that. She should have realized that she couldn’t mention a second generation without getting a question or two. “There isn’t any more. At least any that I care to talk to.” If her mother, wherever she was these days, wanted to find her, she would have. Wasn’t like she was hiding out.

  Carlos reached over and covered her hand with his. “I am sorry if I brought up a sad topic.”

  “You didn’t.” She watched as his thumb made small circles on the back of her hand. His touch chased the hollow feeling away. If only she could entwine their fingers and hold on tight.

  To her dismay, he moved his hand back to the steering wheel. “Why don’t we make a pledge, to focus on pleasant topics for the rest of the ride?” he suggested. “Are you looking forward to snorkeling at the ecopark?”

  “Both will be new experiences,” she replied. “Have you been? To the ecopark, that is.”

  “I have. It’s very nice. Crowded though. Most of the serious divers prefer more out-of-the-way places.” He paused, and Larissa could see an idea forming in his head. “Would you be interested in trying a different location? One that wasn’t so touristy?”

  “Sure. Why not? I’m not all that keen on crowds myself. Where do you suggest I go?”

  His profile broke in to a slow smile. Damn if the look didn’t make her nerves tingle with excitement. “You willing to trust me?”

  A loaded question to be sure. In spite the warnings whispering in her ear, Larissa shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  It was only snorkling. Sitting back, Larissa watched the road signs for clues to their destination, seeing none. A short time later, they turned off the highway onto a narrow unmarked road which in turn became dirt. The narrow pathway was carved with ruts and potholes so deep she feared one might swallow them up. Tropical foliage formed a wall on either side of them, the broad leaves reaching out to slap the sides of the Jeep. Forgetting about trying to save her hat, she reached up to grab the roll bar to save herself.

  “You won’t fall out, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Carlos said.

  Maybe not, but holding on made her feel more secure. “What kind of road is this, anyway?”

  “I believe Americans would call it the road less traveled.”

  Did the road get traveled at all? They hit another pothole and she gripped the bar tighter. Now she understood the point of driving the Jeep, as well as what happened to the shocks. “Is it going to be this bouncy the entire way?” She might not fall out, but another jolt like that one, and she’d need her spine realigned.

  “We’re almost there,” he said. Ahead, nailed to trunk of a large tree was a wooden sign on which someone had painted...something. The letters were too faded to read clearly, although Larissa thought she made out the letters C, N and T. A few feet beyond, the road narrowed even further, becoming no more than a rocky foot path that ended with a rusty gate held shut by a chain.

  The first thing that struck her when he cut the engine, was the quiet. There wasn’t a sound beyond the rustle of leaves and the occasional caw of a bird. Carlos got out and walked to the rear where he removed her beach bag and his cooler. “We will have to go the rest of the way by foot,” he told her. “It’s not a very far walk. No more than a quarter mile.”

  Question was, a walk to where? All of a sudden she wasn’t so certain about this trip. Serves you right, she said to herself, as a giant mosquito buzzed her ear. A warm, earthy smell hung in the air. Without the breeze, her skin was already hot and sticky. She took a step, only to turn her ankle on a rock.

  “Careful! The path is uneven.” In a flash, Carlos appeared at her elbow and despite carrying their belongings, still managed to have a hand free to guide her. Larissa did her best not to shiver as his fingers brushed her bare skin.

  “Is it safe to leave the Jeep parked here like this?” she asked. Every piece of literature she read cautioned about leaving belongings unattended, yet here they were parking an open car in the middle of the jungle. She was suddenly having visions of being stranded. Not because she didn’t trust her companion—if anything, she trusted him too much—but with the way her luck had been running this week, who knew what could happen.
/>   “The Jeep will be fine. Pablo will keep an eye on it.”

  “Pablo?”

  He pointed to where the path turned into a clump of foliage. Beyond the bushes, the path split into two, one way continuing on into the trees, the other leading uphill to a small building.

  She waited while Carlos rattled the chain against the gate. “Hola!” he greeted. “Estamos aquí para nadir en el cenote!”

  “There’s a cenote here?” Hearing the word, Larissa suddenly realized that’s what was painted on the sign. She craned her neck hoping to spot one of the famous Yucatán underwater sinkholes but saw nothing but dirt and scrub.

  “The landowner discovered it on his property several years ago. Mostly locals use it, but the resort sends divers here when they are looking for someplace off the beaten path.”

  A thin gray-haired man ambled out of the building and down the path. “Cincuenta pesos cada uno. Y no proporcionamos chalecos salvavidas.”

  Carlos turned to her. “How’s your swimming?”

  “Pretty good,” she replied. Enough so she could hold her own in deep water.

  “No problema.”

  Larissa tried to keep up with the exchange, but her Spanish was too rusty and basic to understand most of what was being said. Based on the fact Carlos reached into his pocket and peeled off several bills, she assumed the man was the aforementioned Pablo. The old man stuffed the money in his pocket, then wordlessly opened the gate. “Asquirese de tomar su basura,” he said as he let them pass.

  “He’s really got his people skills down,” she noted after the man headed back to his house.

  “Now you know why only the locals visit. I think Pablo considers visitors a necessary evil. If he didn’t like the money, he’d keep everyone off his property. The cenote is this way.” He gestured toward the path on the right, leading into the jungle.

  Larissa picked her way beside him, keeping an eye on the ground so she wouldn’t stumble again. Stumbling meant Carlos would reach out and catch her. The way she reacted to his touch disturbed her. Tom touched her hundreds of times, and far more intimately at that, and she never broke out in shivers.

  “Do you come here a lot?” Until today, she wouldn’t have said he looked like the swimming hole kind of guy, although she had to admit, the shorts made him look like a different person.

  “Once, when I first arrived, so I knew the kind of place the front desk clerks were recommending. I didn’t want to be blindsided by a bad review.”

  Why wasn’t she surprised? Guests seemed to be the most important part of his world.

  Dear Lord, but it was hot. For something that was supposed to protect her from the sun, her hat wasn’t doing a very good job. The back of her neck felt like it was on fire. “Do we have much further?”

  “We’re here.”

  Looking up, Larissa saw the vegetation had dropped away, creating a large cavern in the middle of the trees. Peering over the edge, she saw a pool a hundred or so feet below, part of the great underground river system that flowed beneath the entire Yucatán peninsula. The water was so clear, that despite the drop, she could make out rock formations in its depths.

  “You’re right,” she said, smiling up at Carlos. “This is way better than the ecopark.” Better than better; they had the entire place to themselves.

  A crude wooden ladder lead into the cavern. With Carlos leading the way, they climbed to the base. There the rocks formed a natural spiral staircase leading to the water.

  “I can see why the Mayans thought these places were portals to the underworld,” Larissa remarked. It really was like entering another world. Tree roots twisted from above like giant gnarled fingers, their ends disappearing into the rocks beneath the water. Meanwhile, long strings of vegetation formed a curtain along one edge. Sunlight streamed through the gaps to fill the dark space with an otherworldly glow. Nature’s mood lighting.

  “Be careful,” Carlos said. “The condensation makes the rocks slippery and unless you want to practice your cliff diving, I’d watch your step.”

  Larissa took the warning to heart and pressed a palm to the wall. After a few more minutes, they reached bottom. The rock formed a shelf a few inches above the water. Beneath the surface, Larissa caught sight of a school of fish darting away from one of the stalagmites and gasped with delight.

  “This is amazing! I can’t believe we have the whole place to ourselves.”

  “I did see snorkeling equipment poking out of that bag of yours, right?”

  “You did.” The water was so clear she could see the stalagmites rising up from the depths. She couldn’t wait to jump in and explore. Ditching her hat and sunglasses, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt. No sooner did she start to lift the garment than she froze. Carlos was in the process of peeling off his shirt, and damn if he didn’t make the task look effortless. The cotton slipped up and over his head in one swift movement. He’d definitely been a cat in a previous life. His body was sleek, with muscles made for action, not show. A dusting of dark hair lent an unnecessary rugged edge.

  “If it’s all right, I thought I’d cool off while you explored,” he said, when he caught her watching. “Is that a problem?”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course it’s not a problem.” Beyond the fact he was standing shirtless while she was about to strip off her clothes. Dear Lord, she’d pressed her hand against that chest. She raised her own shirt, conscious of every wiggle and twist needed to pull the garment over her head. The air hit her bare shoulders in a rush, causing goose bumps. At that moment, her one-piece bathing suit felt way too skimpy. When she finally pulled her head free, she found their positions reversed, and Carlos was staring at her.

  “Be careful,” he said. Was it her imagination or has voice dropped a notch? “The water’s very deep.”

  “O-okay.” Her mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed, then reached for her waistband. Carlos eyes locked with hers. Without breaking their gaze, she popped the button on her shorts and slipped them over her hips. They dropped to the rock with barely a sound. They stood inches apart, the sound of their breathing magnified by the close space, making it seem as though no other noise existed.

  Larissa had never felt more exposed. The whole moment was fraught with an intimacy way beyond their surroundings. As for Carlos, his eyes still hadn’t released their hold on hers. In the dim light, they looked darker than ever. Predatory, even. She wished she could see past their surface to know what he was thinking, but like all the other times he’d looked at her, she found their depths shuttered.

  That didn’t stop her skin from igniting from the inside out. Or an ache from starting low in her stomach. She felt on the edge of a far bigger plunge than the water beside her.

  “Who dives in first?” Her voice came out a whisper, the question’s double meaning hanging in the air.

  A strand of hair clung to her damp cheek. She shivered as Carlos brushed it away. “Dios me ayude,” he whispered in return. Then, turning, he dove in to the clear blue water.

  Good idea, thought Larissa, ignoring the heavy disappointment in her stomach. Take the safe plunge.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “SURELY, YOU ARE a prune by now?”

  Rotating onto her back, Larissa pushed off the ledge with her feet, the water slapping the rock with a soft whoosh. “Possibly,” she replied. “I didn’t check.”

  Okay, she had checked, but she wasn’t ready to dry off. So long as she stayed in the water, she could avoid dealing with what happened earlier. The tension between them seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. At some point, the line had to snap, sending them in one direction or another. Her body knew what direction it wanted. Forty minutes in the cool water and it still tingled from his touch.

  And, he’d merely brushed his fingers across her skin. Goodness knows how her body would feel if he
actually kissed her. Her mind, on the other hand, wasn’t entirely sure finding out was a good idea.

  Which was why, pruny fingers be damned, she stayed in the water while Carlos lounged on the rock shelf like a copper-skinned god.

  “You have to remember,” she told him, “we don’t have underground rivers and caves in New York. We have sewers.”

  “Mexico isn’t all cenotes and tropical lagoons, either, you know. We have our droughts, our poor sewage systems, our earthquakes—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Stop being a buzzkill.”

  “I’m simply trying to inject a little reality and remind you no place is perfect.”

  Maybe not, but her current location certainly came close.

  Using the backstroke, she glided across the surface and stared at the cloudless blue sky through the chamber opening. “I still can’t believe I’m swimming in my own private underground cave,” she said. Her favorite part was on the far side of the cavern. There, above two giant root systems, the water flowed from the source in a waterfall. She angled her body in that direction, prattling as she paddled.

  “When I was a kid, I watched this movie about star-crossed island lovers. In it, the hero comes across the heroine bathing in a lagoon. I remember thinking how she rinsed her hair in the waterfall was the coolest thing ever.”

  “Should I go ask Pablo for some shampoo?”

  “Would you?” She leaned back and let the stream wash off her forehead. Somehow she suspected the host in him would oblige if he thought her serious. “Anyway, the princess falls in love with the hero. Or Bob Hope. I don’t remember which one.”

  “Sounds like you watched a lot of movies.”

  “Tons. My grandmother used to sew to the classic movie channel.” And God forbid she should change the channel. “While other kids grew up with video games, I grew up counting satin buttons and watching Errol Flynn rescue princesses.”

  “I’m beginning to see where you got your romantic streak.”

  “What can I say? I’m a sucker for happy endings.”